I sat in a hand-sewn leather recliner on the Upper East Side of New York City. This redone sitting room spanned nearly the length of the Gilded Age mansion’s northern wing, a grand, impeccably curated space meant to awe and inspire. Sunlight poured through the towering arched windows draped in silk damask. Hand-painted ceilings with delicate fresco work soared above me, supporting crystal chandeliers created in Paris.

  I’d picked out all the exquisite decorations in this mansion myself, surrounding myself with some of the best this planet had to offer. Earth had some serious beauty, both natural and human-made. I’d be sad to leave.

  But it was time. The beginning had finally arrived.

  Shivers coated my body.

  A wall-sized monitor flickered with color, displaying the Earth challengers as they were onboarded into the system. Most of them sat frozen, staring around them wide-eyed, unsure where they were and why. Unsure if they were in danger.

  They were. Just not yet.

  Because of the coding, they couldn’t see or feel the others crowded around them—maybe sitting right next to them. They’d need to break through the “tree line” for that. More waited in stasis for their chance to onboard, frozen in time.

  It seemed like an awfully jarring way to start their journey within the Core system, but official statements said it was the best. What would I know? I was just a criminal, here to exploit that system.

  I lifted my porcelain cup, hand-painted with a golden dragon and holding strong Turkish coffee. It was a last chance to savor all my favorite delights. Soon I’d integrate into the system with those challengers, attempting to cheat my way into bigger purse money without dying in the process.

  Another wave of shivers rolled over me.

  With a deep breath, I took up the saucer and walked to the window, looking out on the frigid Manhattan day.

  Usually when I cased a new civilization for this purpose, I didn’t become partial to it. Often the Core Collective, the group of beings in charge of creating the simulations for any given planet, went after more primitive places, much lower on the evolutionary ladder. That made integrating the planet and its beings into the greater galaxy much easier.

  But this place was out of the way and a pain to get to. It was why, despite the leap in technology here, Earth still hadn’t been properly colonized.

  I’d been here for ten Earth years and still there was so much more to explore. So much more to take in. I felt like I’d barely scratched the surface. There were so many gems in this world still to be found.

  Alas, this was the way it worked.

  “Seryn,” Mirox said by way of hello, sauntering in with two glasses of champagne.

  I’d met Mirox on my third Core exploitation and Mirox’s second. We’d become fast friends, something rare for me and rarer still for trust-wary criminals.

  He noticed the cup in my hand and stopped to place the second glass on the table next to my recliner. He glanced at the standing monitor beside it, the one displaying various challenger stats as they made their way from the onboarding chamber and into the Learning Phase, the Core’s rendition of training wheels, where the humans learned how the system worked. There they’d need to build up their skills and knowledge…or, when they progressed to the main system, perish.

  “Congratulations, buddy.” He flashed me the winning smile he’d perfected over this last ten Earth years. “The Learning Phase is active.”

  “For a couple days now. You’re late.” I started over to him, finishing my coffee.

  “I know. I’ve been studying the arrivals.” Mirox took a sip of his drink. “This planet seems a little more brutal than most that’ve advanced this far technologically.”

  “They’re adolescents. They’re still trying to figure it all out.”

  I put down my cup and took up the toasting glass of champagne. He turned to face the wall monitor and I joined him, my human body height topping his by a couple inches, putting me at six-two and with a more muscular frame. Both of us had this planet’s version of classically good looks, with high cheekbones, chiseled features, and tailored suits, but each of us had chosen a different coloring profile.

  Mirox had liked the “California surfer” styling, choosing dirty-blond hair, deeply tanned skin, browny-blue eyes that seemed to change color depending on his mood (his favorite attribute), and an odd choice—a slightly crooked nose. The malformation seemed to work in his favor, making humans deem him more likable and easier going, something Mirox had been striving for.

  How a crooked nose made a human more likable, I had no idea. Some oddities about this place couldn’t be explained.

  For myself, I’d chosen slightly lighter skin but darker hair, opting for jet black to match my heart (my favorite attribute). My pale blue eyes were often called “glacial,” which women thought very pretty or entrancing and many men found a little too intense and hard to meet. The latter had been the goal, especially in any and all business dealings.

  I had no desire to be likable. I’d rather most beings just go away.

  “Find anyone good?” I asked.

  “Bunches, same as usual. I need to start narrowing down who I’ll focus on.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “Are we going to fight over someone again?”

  Mirox grinned. “If we do, I’ll win, just like last time. You’ll get the runner-up.”

  “You cheated last time.”

  “I’m a criminal. I always cheat.”

  I smirked. “And you’re very good at it.”

  He bowed with a flourish. “Why, thank you, sir. Same to you.”

  We clinked glasses and each took a sip. I grimaced with the change in flavor. Might as well brush my teeth before taking a sip with how good that transition was.

  “It’s a small crop this time around.” I sobered slightly. “Only five million challengers.”

  “It’s a small planet. Gorgeous, though. Limited in resources but aces in beauty. This’ll probably be slotted for a destination world, high in tourism. Big money in real estate.”

  “Which is why I’ve purchased a great deal of land.”

  Mirox smirked. “Yes, thank you for the tip. It’s a bit of a risk, but for once I listened to you.”

  “What risk?” I furrowed my brow at him. “Introducing a sliver of new-to-them technology brought in a waterfall of coin. Everything I’ve purchased on-world was bought by my proceeds here.”

  “True.” Mirox pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It has been uncommonly easy to coexist in this civilization if you have the monetary backup. Too bad the world’s been slotted for evaluation. How many planets do the collective tend to keep intact, do you know?”

  I exhaled slowly. “On average, one in three are deemed fit to integrate with modifications. In the less primitive civilizations, like this one, those modifications are not often well received. The civilization tries to defend itself against alien invasion, and it usually results in disaster. They typically end up wiping themselves off the planet. The planet then needs a cleanup and often reseeding.”

  Mirox slipped a hand into his pocket. “Not good odds of keeping things as they are now.”

  “No. But if you log your purchases here with the Galactic Property Authority, you’ll keep your holdings. I’ve already logged mine. If the humans revolt, and they probably will, we’ll have to wait out the upheaval and the probable reseeding before we can return. If we want to return at that point. The reseeding will strip most of the little colloquial joys of this place.”

  “Yeah. It’s a shame. I kinda like these beings. Some of them. I’d hate for them to destroy themselves.”

  “Some of them is right. There are no kinder beings here than the ones with very little. They work together. They survive together. They are happy to give and are filled with gratitude when they receive.” My tone darkened as my mood soured. “Then there are the ones with vast amounts of wealth and power. They don’t receive, they take, and there is no gratitude in it. They…often aren’t so nice to be around.”

  Mirox barked out a laugh. “That’s why you got the job of dealing with them, and I did not.”

  “Yes. My great joy is to make those types wildly uncomfortable while relieving them of their coin.”

  “And you do a damn fine job of it.”

  It was my turn to bow with a flourish. “I do my best.”

  We were quiet for a moment as we watched the challengers in the onboarding field.

  “I always get nervous about this time,” Mirox said quietly. “It’s dangerous, what we do. Once I get into the system, I focus on the objective, but before I go in…I can’t seem to shake the doubt. We have a good team, and we’ve successfully made it out a bunch of times by now, even when something goes wrong, but I still get cold feet.”

  “I do, too. That’s normal, I think.”

  In the system, we couldn’t die like humans did, our energy and presence more evolved than a mere organic vessel and its moving parts, but our lattices—what humans called a soul—would be swept up and entwined within the fabric of the Core.

  The Core, at its base, was a synthetic cognition system. A much more robust form of technological intelligence than the humans thought possible. If I was “killed” in the system, it would then be up to our team to free me, working within the code to untangle my lattice without the Core noticing the security breach.

  If the Core did notice the breach…well, then I would die. My essence would be extinguished, my lattice broken forever.

  We did have a good team. A strong team that we paid very well. But perfection was unattainable, and we weren’t the only players in the game. Other Purse Hunters would be in that system, too, affecting the outcome, trying to cross out their competition. It wasn’t just challengers who were hunted in these things—we were, too.

  And those other Hunters had teams of their own. If one of them took out Mirox or me, their team would work against ours to try to keep us put until the Core noticed. They’d try to wipe us out forever, minimizing their competition for next time. We’d do the same to them.

  This was not a job for the faint of heart. Vast rewards came at great risks.

  “Out of the five million, how many are they choosing for the Red Ledger, have you heard?” Mirox asked, scanning the screen.

  The Red Ledger. The reason we were here. The betting pool.

  The Blood Show.

  You couldn’t have an illegal, galactic-wide betting ring without something to bet on.

  A certain number of challengers were singled out and tagged. This could be for any number of reasons—their brutality, perhaps, or their skill. Their speed, maybe, or sometimes purely for entertainment value.

  In our cases—and that of most Purse Hunters—at our request.

  Through a well-timed “glitch” between the Learning Phase and the main system, new metrics were added and the data divided. In addition to the Core, the challenger’s information funneled into the Exchange, populating a Murder-Board-style betting sheet.

  Their plight became sport. Their journey influenced wins and losses, wealth, and poverty. The proposed winners became targets, and the Purse Hunters who successfully got their charges across the finish line collected their rewards.

  Another wave of shivers washed over me.

  “I haven’t heard,” I answered.

  “If they only do the usual one percent, there’ll hardly be any sport.”

  “That’s the worry. At one percent, it’s thought the games will end too quickly for any real escalation. The larger pit bosses are saying to push up to ten percent, but that’ll never fly.”

  Mirox turned with widened eyes. “Not even the Core’s oversight committee would miss that.”

  “Exactly. They’re fairly useless, but that would fire up every alert they have. It would be much too obvious.” I watched the challengers without really seeing them. “With such a small sample size, the system itself will be small. Nothing will change the shorter duration. This planet is like a luxury boutique hotel. It’s small and quaint and offers so much more than the cheap, non-personal chain establishments.”

  “Praise the Saints, Seryn, you’ve picked up way too much arrogance from all your upper crust friends.” He laughed.

  I smirked, holding up a finger. “First, it’s not arrogance, it’s truth. Second, they aren’t my friends, and third, like you can talk.”

  “At least I hide it. I manage to fit in without sounding like a posh prick.”

  “I’ve never been known for my tact.”

  “Truth.”

  I chuckled, noticing a human female on the monitor. She’d barely opened her eyes, and she was already on her feet. Average height, toned, athletic body. Her eyes gleamed with intelligence and cunning, and her bearing screamed war. She wasn’t scared to be there—she was pissed off to have made the trip.

  I glanced at the monitor at the same time Mirox did, checking stats. With a flick of my mind, I highlighted the dataset, moving her into my “watch” folder.

  “Dibs,” Mirox called.

  “I flagged her first.”

  “When has that stopped me?”

  “I can cheat too, you know. I just need to find the right challenger to put in the effort.”

  “We’ll see.” Mirox drank more of his champagne. “Soon. The great show starts soon.”

  Adrenaline curled through my body. “Soon.”

  It was once again time to choose a challenger…and brave the Core.