Chapter 118: Chapter 118: Awesome
The chatroom audience was still caught up in the thrill of Renee Morgan scoring points, and many were startled by the looks in their eyes.
[What’s up with those two’s eyes? Damn, I swear I saw the infamous killer vibe.]
[No doubt about it. They’re out for Renee’s blood.]
[If this weren’t at the base, surrounded by hidden cameras, they wouldn’t have let it slide like this.]
[Merrick Base is full of shady types, no better than Freyos Arena. With that intense aura, someone ought to check their records—bet there’s bodies in their past.]
[Run, Morgan, RUN! If something really happens, by the time backup arrives, it’ll be way too late.]
Jay Monroe pressed up against the corner suddenly broke cover, grabbing Renee Morgan and bolting.
The two behind kept their eyes locked on Renee’s retreating figure.
Their clenched fists relaxed; they pulled out their comm units, ready to notify Kennedy...
Base match rules: If you get popped in the head and knocked out, all your resources vaporize.
They hit the comm, connecting to Kennedy.
Renee’s string of head-shot points had just wrapped up in their earpieces.
"..."
"Team Blue sniper, Renee Morgan scores one point, total score: 75."
This name was etched into their souls by now—no need for reminders.
After the tally, they waited for the connection, only to realize the comm had glitched, with a mechanical voice repeating: "You have been eliminated."
Warning them to clear out ASAP, because any breach of the rules would bring down base sector sanctions.
Everyone knew the base sector rule: you can lose the game, but break the rules and you’re screwed. The consequences are brutal.
They wanted to help, but could only give up.
The pursuers behind were relentless; Dane really wanted to unclip his SMG and throw down, but there were too many foes—if they tagged his helmet, getting eliminated would be pointless.
He wasn’t afraid of a fight, wasn’t scared of pain, but hated being knocked out even more.
He ran loops, finally shaking them off, thinking of how earlier Jay had screamed for Renee’s help over earpiece—so damn contemptible, some grown dude acting helpless...
He looked up and saw a shadow blocking his path—a man with a rifle, muzzle pointed right at him.
The darkness warped his vision, but Dane could still see the man’s lips curled up in a wicked smirk.
Kennedy...
Dane slammed on the brakes, frozen in place.
Footsteps echoed behind him—the pursuers had caught up.
Dane glanced left and right, boxed in by high walls on either side—he was trapped.
Is he about to get wiped?
Dane was pissed, gripping his SMG, ready to go all in...
Kennedy squeezed the trigger, a sharp gunshot cutting through the air.
Dane didn’t even get a chance to counter; clutching his SMG, he rolled on the ground, hoping to dodge head shot point loss with some quick evasion.
When the pursuers started closing in, step by step, he knew his luck had run dry.
Kennedy eyed Dane, whose face was red and gaze turning dull, lips twisted in a sneer. With a flash of icy chill in his sinister stare, he aimed for Dane’s head and pulled the trigger...
But right before the gun went off, Kennedy looked up as if sensing something—on top of the wall stood a woman, gripping a sniper rifle with high-powered scope, aimed squarely at him.
Kennedy hadn’t even seen her face yet when the bullet cut through the air toward his forehead. He instantly ditched his attack on Dane, scrambling to dodge.
Dane watched Kennedy stumble and dodge, then turned and saw Jay Monroe aiming his sniper rifle at the guys behind him...
For a second, Dane felt thoroughly ashamed of ever trash-talking Jay Monroe.
They were partners shoulder-to-shoulder in battle—not abandoning, not giving up. That’s team spirit, and not embarrassing one bit.
After dodging that shot, Kennedy snapped his rifle up, sighting on the woman atop the wall.
But Renee Morgan, cool as ever, leveled her rifle at him. She seemed to find the perfect angle, her almond eyes narrowing...
"Bang!" Unlike normal gunshots, the sniper rifle’s crack was short and crisp—evoking the raw power of a hunting leopard: when it strikes, it kills.
Kennedy squeezed his trigger at the same time, watching his bullet vanish in the night, then a sharp impact sounded on his helmet—smoke starting to rise, that smell getting stronger.
He’s out?
The earpiece chimed in to confirm his fears.
"Team Blue sniper, Renee Morgan scores one point, total score: 76."
Kennedy refused to accept it; he tried mashing the trigger, spraying at Renee Morgan.
But the gun only clicked—after being knocked out, his weapon was automatically disabled.
His earpiece finally played that delayed mechanical voice: "You have been eliminated"...
Kennedy was nearly livid, yanked off his helmet, which had a wisp of smoke lingering, fueling his rage—he hurled it to the ground.
The helmet shattered instantly, but that wasn’t enough; he stomped the shards with both feet, grinding them to dust.
He looked up at Renee Morgan, packing away her sniper rifle and heading out, raised a finger and snarled with a venomous smirk: "Renee Morgan, right? I won’t forget you."
Renee paused, glanced back. Her lily-white face was bright and calm as moonlight, lips curving in a breathtaking arc, but up close, that blossom beauty held no hint of a smile.
"We have a saying in Z Country: ’Winner takes all, loser’s dirt.’"
Those almond eyes narrowed, looking down from above, voice chilly: "Right now, I’m the king. You’re the dirt."
"Why should I be scared of threats from a defeated nobody?"
The audience was obsessed with this woman!
[Morgan, seriously top-tier badass.]
[I used to think Kennedy was a top contender—didn’t realize he was this sore about losing.]
[Little Kennedy, you’re three years old now. Time to know your place—the defeated loser.]
[Who’s little Kennedy? He’s old Kennedy, actually. Not a kid anymore and still needs a young girl to teach him how to act.]
The overseas viewers were just as hyped.
Renee Morgan’s "Right now, I’m the king. You’re the dirt," sent the chat into overdrive.
[Yet another day of productive learning—writing it down in the notebook: Z Country quote: I’m the king. You’re the dirt.]
[Z Country quote: I’m the king. You’re the dirt. Mastered it.]
[Z Country quote: I’m the king. You’re the dirt. I learned it for real. Mom will be proud and buy me a sniper rifle just like Renee’s. Long live learning!] ℴ
Chinese viewers, rubbing their throbbing foreheads, hammered out on the keyboard: [Z Country really does have that saying: Winner takes all, loser’s dirt. Literally means only the victor gets to speak.]
[Did you guys focus on the wrong thing?] he asks.
Foreigners: [?] Wrong thing?
But damn, that line was cool!