Chapter 44: The Hundredth Race, A Wager of Everything!
"The Bronya is victorious."
Bronya set down her game controller, her face a mask of stoic indifference.
"Match results. Bronya versus Rovel: 99 wins, 0 losses."
"Please, you don't have to announce it every single time..." Rovel groaned, sprawled on the floor like a discarded ragdoll. His entire being seemed to have turned a desaturated shade of gray, his soul having apparently vacated the premises.
He had, after all, heard that exact same line ninety-nine times today.
While he'd always known Bronya was a gaming prodigy, he'd never truly grasped the sheer, crushing scale of her expertise. Today, he finally understood. The lesson had been brutal and relentless.
Earlier that morning, Bronya had appeared with a game console, and the two of them had spent the entire day locked in digital combat. Rovel suspected this was one of her unique methods for stress relief. Though she couldn't bring herself to verbally refute his arguments from before, she clearly couldn't just let him go, either.
In a strange way, this was also her method of protecting him. Cocolia had set her sights on Raiden Mei, and by extension, Rovel, who refused to leave Mei's side. He was in grave danger. If Bronya had let him walk away, the next thing to come knocking probably wouldn't be a polite request, but a Titan-class mecha.
He could infer this much because his trust level with Bronya had quietly climbed to thirty percent. It wasn't a deep bond, but it was enough to place him within a circle of people she wouldn't willingly see harmed.
So, even though he was effectively imprisoned, the day hadn't been a total loss.
[Defeated by Bronya in-game. You have gained 50 Experience Points.]
That was the silver lining. Every single time she wiped the floor with him, he earned a neat 50 experience points. Over the course of the day, he had amassed a staggering 4,950 XP. At this rate, he could hit level 10 by tomorrow.
"One more round!" Rovel declared, hauling himself up from the floor with a surge of renewed, if foolish, determination. "I'll definitely win this time!"
His tenacious, cockroach-like refusal to stay down had always been his greatest strength.
But just as he was readying himself for his hundredth defeat, Bronya stood up and stretched, her small frame moving with practiced efficiency.
"Negative. The session is concluded. According to calculations, the probability of Rovel achieving victory against the Bronya is 0%. Further attempts are meaningless."
"This time is different!" Rovel insisted, a note of desperation in his voice.
Bronya, however, was already turning to leave, her interest in the matter clearly exhausted.
"If you beat me," Rovel blurted out, "I'll give you this!"
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a small, colorful object.
Bronya glanced back over her shoulder, her expression utterly indifferent. But the moment her eyes landed on the item in his hand, they froze. She couldn't look away.
"A Christmas limited edition Homu?!" The words escaped her lips with a rare, audible tremor. "This hasn't even been released yet. How do you possess this?!"
For the first time all day, a genuine crack had appeared in her monotone facade. Such was the power of Homu.
"Is it that rare?" Rovel blinked, feigning ignorance. "I just got it from one of those Homu blind boxes."
He had spent 70,000 game coins on blind boxes the day before and had pulled three of these limited-edition figures. He hadn't really understood their actual value.
"Of course it's rare!" Bronya explained, her voice sharp with a collector's fervor. "Only thirty of these limited-edition figures were produced for global distribution!"
"Thirty? That sounds like quite a few, doesn't it?" Rovel mused, still failing to grasp the significance. In the vast world of Honkai, thirty of anything seemed plentiful. For someone like Bronya, he figured, she could probably secure all thirty if she really wanted to.
"The context is different," she corrected him, stepping closer. "Yours is a special pre-release version for this year's Christmas event, discoverable only in blind boxes. Its product number is 001. That signifies it is the very first Christmas Homu ever produced!"
Her gaze was locked onto the figure. "Its value is ten times that of a standard Christmas limited edition Homu!"
Her eyes were practically glowing with longing. As Rovel shifted his hand slightly, her gaze followed the movement with an almost hypnotic focus.
'Is it really that precious?' he wondered, glancing down at the Christmas Homu. Sure enough, engraved on the bottom of its base in tiny, precise lettering was the number "001".
"A treasure of this caliber must be properly stored in a climate-controlled glass cabinet!" Bronya admonished, seeing his casual handling of the artifact. She subconsciously moved forward, her hands hovering beneath his as if to catch the priceless treasure should he accidentally drop it.
"Are you certain you wish to use this as the wager for the 100th round?" she asked, her voice now hushed and serious. "The Bronya... does not possess an item of equivalent value for exchange."
Her hands were trembling slightly, and she swallowed, her composure completely shattered. None of the items in her extensive collection could possibly compare to the No. 001 Christmas Haxxor Bunny.
"This is the only wager," Rovel confirmed with a firm nod.
Seeing his resolve, Bronya felt a fire ignite deep within her. The thrill of the chase, the allure of the ultimate prize—it was overwhelming.
"Very well," she declared, her tone now connecting with solemn purpose. "In that case, the Bronya will wager her entire 10th Anniversary Limited Edition 'Homu Adventure' hardcover collection."
She paused, adding with a sense of honor, "The value of the 'Homu Adventure' set is far less than the No. 001 Christmas Haxxor Bunny. Therefore, regardless of the outcome, the Bronya will hand over the collection. Only then can this wager proceed with a clear conscience."
With her stake declared, she sat down with a new, deep seriousness beside the game console. Her palms were slick with a thin sheen of sweat; she hadn't felt this nervous in a very long time.
Seeing her intensity, Rovel opened his attribute panel. Without hesitation, he allocated all 16 of his remaining free attribute points into "Intelligence."
His Intelligence stat instantly shot up to 87.
This was it. Rovel was betting everything.
The bento boxes Mei provided could increase all his attributes by one point each day, up to a cap of 150. By using his free points now, he was effectively sacrificing 16 days' worth of permanent, free stats. But he had no other choice. There was no turning back.
The 16-point boost was immediately noticeable. A wave of clarity washed over him, his thoughts sharpening, his mind feeling faster and more agile than ever before. Simultaneously, he activated his Clear Mirror Sword Intent, forcing his mind into a state of absolute calm, striving for a performance with zero errors.
Rovel selected a racing game—one of Bronya's strongest genres. Then again, there didn't seem to be a single game Bronya wasn't good at.
After the map was selected, an unmatched focus descended upon them both. They sat side-by-side, fingers coiled tightly around their controllers, eyes locked on the sleek, powerful racing machines poised at the starting line on the screen.
This was no longer a casual game. It was a duel of honor, with a priceless treasure on the line. The air in the room crackled with a tense, electric energy.
The lights went out. The race began.
Like arrows loosed from a bow, both cars shot forward with perfect, optimal acceleration. The engines roared to life, and the blue flames erupting from their nitro boosts seemed to set the very air ablaze.
Down the initial straightaway, they were perfectly matched, driving side-by-side. Neither could gain so much as half a car's length on the other.
Soon, they hit the first series of consecutive curves. The shriek of tires tearing against asphalt filled the room. Since Rovel was Player 1, the map gave him a slight edge; his position was closer to the inside of the first turn. In a high-level race like this, the smallest advantage could be snowballed into a decisive lead by skillfully obstructing your opponent.
Both of them slammed on the brakes at the last possible nanosecond. Leaning into his P1 advantage, Rovel successfully nosed his car in front of Bronya's.
He was in the lead. Now, all he had to do was maintain his position and make no mistakes. Victory would be his.
Bronya, of course, recognized this instantly. From behind, she relentlessly probed for an opening, searching for any chance to overtake. But for every adjustment she made, Rovel mirrored her instantly, blocking her path. Their movements were as precise and synchronized as the neural handshake between Jaeger pilots.
Using this defensive strategy, Rovel maintained his narrow lead into the middle stage of the race. Bronya continued her assault, but every attempt to pass was expertly thwarted.
Up ahead, an acceleration tunnel appeared, a narrow conduit wide enough for only a single car. If Rovel could enter it first, Bronya would be forced to fall in line behind him, and the gap between them would only widen.
Bronya saw it too. Her attempts to overtake grew more frequent, more desperate. She tried feints, she tried to bait him into a mistake, but Rovel held firm, his focus absolute. He refused to fall for any of it.
Finally, Rovel's car shot into the mouth of the acceleration tunnel. He had done it.
But to his utter shock... Bronya's car was right there with him, inside the tunnel!
On a track only one car wide, how was that even possible?!
Rovel stared at the screen in disbelief. Bronya's car was pressed tightly against the inner wall of the tunnel, sparks flying from its chassis. She was driving completely upside down. He never would have imagined she would use such an impossible, physics-defying maneuver to break his defense.
But how could she possibly exit the tunnel? Rovel's car was firmly occupying the main lane. There was no way for her to get down from the wall. At this incredible speed, the moment she shot out of the tunnel, her car would be sent flying off the track.
Then, she slammed her car sideways into his.
Rovel, refusing to be outdone, slammed right back, unwilling to give up a single inch of his advantage.
As they rocketed toward the exit, Rovel still held the main path. If Bronya didn't slow down, she was going to crash. It was inevitable.
Just before the exit, Bronya launched one final, desperate-looking attack.
Rovel reacted instantly, pushing back to counter her.
But... at the very last moment, Bronya pulled back.
Rovel's counter-attack, now striking empty air, sent his own car slightly off-balance. The force he had intended for her instead propelled her car. She was flung off the track by his own momentum. The race was over.
Or so he thought.
"This is the Bronya's route!"
Her car, which should have been careening into a wall, sailed through the air in a perfect arc. It landed miraculously on a lower section of the racetrack below—a planned shortcut.
She was now leading him by two full curves.
With a gap that massive, there was no chance of recovery. It was over.
Rovel's hands went limp. The controller slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the floor.
He... had lost.
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