In the Eclipse Arena, flow state isn't just a concept—it's survival.
Ace had previously experienced late-night gaming sessions, last-minute victories, and moments when everything came together. But back then, the stakes were low. A lost match? Just a restart. A mistake? Just a lesson for next time.
But here? Here, failure meant death.
The first time Ace truly entered flow in the Eclipse Arena was against the Scorch Titan. At first, his attacks were instinctive but clumsy. He was fast, but not precise. He reacted, but not fast enough. Then, something changed.
In that single moment, his blade pulsing with energy, the Titan's molten fist swinging toward him and time slowed.
He saw everything.
The arc of the Titan's swing.
The exact point he needed to dodge.
The perfect angle to strike.
And then? He moved.
Not because he thought about it. Not because he planned it. Because his body just knew.
The sword became an extension of him, his movements perfectly calculated, his reactions instantaneous. It felt exactly like those moments in his games—when the controller melted away and it was just him, the fight, and the win.
Mia and Liam noticed it too.
"He was faster," Mia whispered. "More precise."
Liam frowned. "That's not just experience. That's something else."
And it was just Ace. Other players couldn't tap into it, either.
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Meanwhile, far away from the battlefield, the game's developers watched.
One of them smirked. "Did you see that?"
Another nodded. "That player—Ace. He's reached flow state. Was that meant to happen in a situation like this?"
A third developer adjusted his glasses. "That's not unusual. In a high-stress environment, flow can be triggered more easily. The real question is—who else will adapt?"
Because the Eclipse Arena wasn't just a game.
It was a test.
And only those who could control themselves would have a real shot at surviving.
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Ace stood still, his breathing steady as the Scorch Titan's body collapsed in front of him. The glow of his sword dimmed, its energy spent as it faded away. The battlefield was silent for a moment, save for the flickering embers of the defeated monster. Then, as if breaking out of a trance, the other players erupted into cheers.
"You took that thing down like it was nothing!" one player shouted.
Ace blinked. Nothing? He had felt every second of it—his muscles burning, his mind racing, his heart pounding like a war drum. But he had won. Not just through skill, but by reaching that state.
Flow.
And it was just him.
More players had stepped up during the fight. The game was pushing them. Pushing them to evolve, to become something more. It wasn't just about playing anymore—it was about surviving, adapting, and growing.
Now he was pumped to do whatever it took. He just wanted to win.
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From a distance, Liam observed Ace with narrowed eyes. That fight wasn't normal. It was one thing to be skilled, but what Ace did? That was beyond simple skill.
Liam had seen it before—soldiers in combat, esports professionals in high-stakes matches, fighters in underground tournaments. When the mind and body synced perfectly, people could perform feats beyond their usual capabilities.
Flow state.
But the real question wasn't whether Ace had tapped into it.
The real question was: how many others would figure it out? And how far could it go?
Liam clenched his fists. If there was a way to control this state, to activate it at will, he would master it.
Because in this game, power wasn't just about weapons. It was about control.
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Inside the unseen control room, another group of developers monitored everything. Their screens displayed real-time statistics of every player—heart rates, reaction times, and brain activity.
"Interesting," one of them murmured. "His neural patterns spiked during the fight. He's already tapping into it."
"Not just him," another developer noted. "Look at Lex. He's watching. He understands what's happening. It won't be long before he figures it out too."
A silent pause followed.
Then, one developer smirked. "Let's see how far they can go."
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Back in the Eclipse Arena, Ace and the others were transported back to the stadium. The next game loomed ahead. The surviving players were still processing everything—the fight, the new abilities, the undeniable feeling that something was changing within them.
Mia nudged Ace. "You felt it, didn't you?"
Ace nodded. "Yeah. And if we don't learn to control it… someone else will."
Liam exhaled. "Then we better get to work."
Because in this game, flow wasn't just an advantage anymore.
It was the key to survival.
The moment Ace, Mia, Liam, and the rest of their group reappeared in the Eclipse Arena, the air felt different. Heavy. The stadium buzzed with a mix of relief and unease as players looked around, searching for familiar faces.
And then, the realization hit.
Some people weren't coming back.
A girl near the front of the crowd anxiously scanned the area, her hands trembling. "Where's Darren?" she whispered.
A boy beside her shook his head. "He… he picked hearts. I saw it."
A murmur rippled through the crowd as more players started speaking up.
"I saw Caleb pick hearts too," a girl with short black hair muttered, her eyes scanning the arena desperately. "He was right next to me when we drew our cards… But he's not here."
Another boy, his voice shaky, added, "Maya and Jesse both picked hearts. I was in their group. They should've come back with us… right?"
More voices joined in, some confused, some panicked.
"My brother picked hearts."
"Jared picked hearts."
"Nicole too. She's… she's gone."
It wasn't just one or two people. There were dozens—maybe hundreds—who had picked hearts and never returned.
Then, someone near the back spoke in a low, grim voice.
"They must have lost the game."
The words hung in the air like a curse.
A heavy silence followed, pressing down on everyone like a weight they couldn't escape. The truth was setting in.
Not everyone who entered a game was going to make it out.
Silence.
Across the arena, similar moments unfolded. Friends waiting for teammates, family members searching for their loved ones, only to realize they were gone.
Some had lost their game.
Some had been eliminated.
Some had been sent somewhere else entirely.
And no one knew if they would ever return.
Ace clenched his fists as he watched the reactions around him. He had been so focused on winning, surviving, and adapting that he hadn't stopped to think about the others. About how many had vanished.
Well, he didn't really care.
"We're still in this," Mia said, her voice quiet but firm.
Ace nodded, exhaling sharply. "Yeah. But for how long?"
Liam crossed his arms. "The real question is—how many of us are actually going to make it to the end?"
Because if this was only the beginning, then what came next would be even worse.
They weren't even sure if this game had an end anymore.