Let the Rejected Win One

The delivery rider sputtered. “Then we can’t see anything.” “Listen for footsteps. Fire on my countdown.” Polar Day’s wind shifted every ninety seconds. Obsidian relied on visual markers supplied by projected talent and habitually followed optimal paths. Lin Zhou remembered how every gust swallowed gunfire. “Three. Two. One.” Four lines of bullets crossed the whiteout. Obsidian’s entry player fell. They changed formation at once. CLEAR took the ridge and pinned ORANGE down with two consecutive shots. Sweat covered Xu Cheng’s palms. That account used her preferred sensitivity. It felt like watching someone else wear her skin. “I can’t beat my own data,” she whispered.