April 19th, 2:50PM — Gaming Room, Bellingham Mansion, Liverpool.
It had been three days since tony got the GODFINGER(RING) SYSTEM.The halls of Bellingham Mansion echoed with a still, suspicious silence. Tony glanced over his shoulder more than once as he navigated the shadowed corridor, every step muffled by the plush carpeting. His sneakers barely made a sound, but his heartbeat was loud enough to betray him. The air was thick with the kind of tension that only came when you were about to enter a forbidden sanctuary.
(Damn...Pressure!)
He reached a sleek, unmarked door tucked neatly behind a hanging portrait of some long-dead Bellingham ancestor. He slid the painting aside, punched in a quick code on the hidden panel—his fingers flying faster than most could even see—and with a faint click, the door opened. He stepped in and shut it just as quick, locking it with a satisfying clunk. Safe.
(One gats to be careful!!)
Welcome to The Room.
The walls were painted with wild, edgy splashes of blue, black, red, and white—almost like the chaos of a street mural frozen in time. Two wide windows to the left let in just enough natural light to make the LED accents glow without being blinding. Mounted just beneath the windows were twin AC units, purring gently, keeping the room in that perfect chilled zone—cold enough for concentration, warm enough for comfort.
In the corner sat a sleek, matte-black mini fridge—his stash vault. It hummed low, its contents a curated selection of energy drinks, iced coffee, soda, and snacks ranging from protein bars to straight-up candy he swore was "for emergencies only." Right.
But the crown jewel, the thing that pulled it all together like a king's throne room?
The Royal Plasma.
A mammoth 85-inch beast of a TV stood mounted on the far wall, gleaming like it had just been blessed by the gaming gods themselves. Beneath it, his PS5 controller rested like a weapon in its scabbard, waiting. On either side of the TV were two sturdy black shelves stacked with everything: collectors' editions, trophies, exclusive game merch, even a signed copy of The Last of Us Part II.
(Damn.....That's Crazy!!!)
And in front of all of that? The couch.
A soft, warm, luxurious pink two-seater couch. It looked outta place in a room this intense, but that was the point. Kai had picked it himself. Said it helped him "balance his aura." It was the one piece that belonged to Tony—the quiet, careful, always-on-alert side of him. But when he sat on it?
That's when Kai took over.
Kai was wild.
Kai was brilliant.
Kai was The Game Lord.
He plopped down, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His fingers curled around the PS5 pad with a kind of reverence, the way a warrior might grip a legendary sword.
Then something pulsed in the air.
A thin, golden shimmer rippled just above his wrist—almost like heatwaves—and then the voice came, low and echoing in his mind, digital and divine at the same time:
GODFINGER: Skill Activation — 10 Minutes to Go.
He blinked, the words echoing through his skull.
"Ten minutes, huh?" he muttered, half to himself, half to the glowing sigil that now sat dormant on the back of his hand. "Well then... guess we got time to kill."
The TV came to life with a sharp, brilliant glow. The opening splash screen of NBA 2K25 blasted through the room's surround sound like a stadium roaring to life. Kai leaned forward, eyes narrowing, smile creeping across his face.
Game time.
He dunked on LeBron. Broke Curry's ankles. Ran it up with Giannis like he owned the court. He wasn't just playing—he was styling. Ali-oops, buzzer beaters, no-look passes. He beat the CPU, then hopped online and dusted three players back-to-back before they could even rage quit.
Then came WWE 2K25.
He picked Roman Reigns, naturally. The Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. His digital self strutted down the ramp with that icy calm while Seth Rollins danced on the other side, ready to clash. The bell rang.
Spears. Superman Punches. Chairs. Tables. He pulled off a Perfect Combo Finisher through a steel cage and nearly jumped off the couch yelling. Even the AI crowd in the game lost their minds.
"That's what happens when you step to royalty!" Kai shouted at the screen, pointing like he was cutting a real-life promo. "Acknowledge me!"
(I acknowledge you my tribal chief!!!)
Then, the nostalgia wave hit. He exited WWE and booted up a dusty old copy of Mortal Kombat XL—not for the balance, not for the mechanics—nah. For respect.
He picked Scorpion, obviously. And the moment he heard the classic "GET OVER HERE!", his entire being lit up. Combo chains flowed like water. X-rays cracked bones in slow-mo. He was in the zone, and it felt like time didn't exist anymore.
But then—
GODFINGER: Skill Activation Initiated. Standby.
The TV screen flickered. The controller vibrated once—twice—and then stopped.
Everything went quiet.
Kai looked at his hand. The golden sigil blazed bright now, spinning like a slow halo, pulsing with strange, divine energy. The once-dormant circuit lines across his fingers came alive like veins of light.
A low hum filled the room.
He stood up slowly, heart pounding with that same cocktail of excitement and fear that always came when Godfinger activated.
This was no ordinary game room anymore.
The air itself shimmered. The walls faded into a gentle static. The once solid couch now floated an inch above the floor. The Royal Plasma screen didn't show the PlayStation dashboard anymore. Instead, it displayed a countdown in ancient glyphs he somehow understood perfectly.
00:00:03
00:00:02
00:00:01
Skill Activation: Complete.
Suddenly, a flash of white light blinded the room.
When it faded, Kai wasn't in the gaming room anymore.
At least... not exactly.
He stood now in what looked like a holographic arena—miles of digital blue grids stretching in every direction. Above him, floating symbols spun like constellations. Around him, shards of old games floated: a Batarang, a Pokéball, Master Chief's helmet, a rusted crowbar from Half-Life.
This... was the Godfinger Arena.
A place only he could access. A place where all the skills, reflexes, and memories he'd ever gained from gaming fused into real power.
Here, he wasn't just Kai.
Here, he wasn't even Tony.
Here—he was The Game Lord Ascended.
His pink couch floated beside him like a throne made for digital royalty. The PS5 pad in his hand reshaped itself, morphing into a sleek gauntlet with buttons, triggers, and a D-pad that glowed with ancient light.
A voice echoed once more:
"Challenge Incoming: Mirror Duel Initiated. Prepare to face... Yourself."
" No pentaly"
Before him, a figure stepped out from the digital mist.
It was him. Same face. Same smirk. Same fire in the eyes.
Only this version? He wore all-black armor, glowing red circuit marks across his chest.
"Bout time," Tony(Kai) muttered, grinning wide as he raised his gauntlet. "Let's see if you really got what it takes to wear the crown."
And just like that...
The arena exploded into motion.
Fists flew, buttons mashed, and attacks clashed in a battle so intense even the digital air trembled. Skills from every genre—FPS quickscopes, fighter counters, RPG dodges, even rhythm-game perfect-timings—were thrown like weapons.
Ten minutes in this place could feel like a lifetime.
And for Kai?
Guess what....
It was paradise.