The arena held its breath.
Jennifer's voice cracked through the comms which was like really furious. "Kill him! Now!"
Six lasers fired at once.
Jax moved.
Not a panicked dodge. Not a desperate roll. Just a slight shift of his torso—left, then right—his feet planted firm. Five lasers screamed past him, missing by millimeters. The sixth, aimed dead center at his chest, he sidestepped with a single pivot.
The crowd gasped.
Jax didn't look scared. Didn't look worried.
He looked annoyed.
"That all?" he said, voice carrying across the silent arena.
This wasn't fear. This was his domain.
Guns. Precision. Reflexes. Strategy.
Back on Earth, he'd dominated every Vr gungame that existed. Counter-Terrorist. Valor of ant. Call of Beauty. His accuracy stats were inhuman. His game sense was unmatched. Professional players studied his clips. Tournaments feared his name.
Even the assassins would take interest from his game.
And here? In this world?
