Sarah leaned back in her chair, staring at her screen. The contest was looming. She had always told herself she wouldn’t enter until she felt ready, and yet, here she was—a wildcard competitor thrown into the mix.

  I don’t have a choice now. If I want that job at Auracron Prime, I have to go all in.

  She took a sip of her lukewarm coffee, flipping through her LUA scripts. The basics weren’t the problem. She could create NPC behaviors, interactive objects, and even some environmental scripting. But she needed to step it up if she wanted to stand a chance against the other coders.

  And so, she dove in.

  Hours passed as she wrote new functions, testing different scripts in her sandbox island. The build she was working on was a small AI-driven combat test, where an NPC would dodge attacks based on probability and reaction timing.

  If I can program dynamic enemy responses, that’ll set me apart in the contest.

  She pressed Run Script, expecting a small training bot to react to her inputs. Instead, the bot jumped backward and crouched defensively, almost too smoothly. Sarah frowned.

  That’s… actually impressive.

  She pulled up the code again, skimming over her logic.

  That’s when a new message popped up.

  Hexa: Hey, checking in on your coding grind. How’s it going?

  Dani: I think I just coded a bot that’s smarter than me.

  Hexa: LMAO, what did you do?

  Sarah copied a snippet of her code and sent it over.

  A minute passed. Then—

  Hexa: …Dani, this kinda looks like something Mackiaveli would do.

  Sarah froze.

  Dani: WHAT?! No, I did this myself.

  Hexa: Relax, I’m not saying you copied him. I’m saying the way you structured this script is really similar to his AI methods.

  Sarah stared at her screen.

  No way. There’s no way I’m subconsciously coding like him.

  Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

  Dani: It’s just a coincidence.

  Hexa: Sure, Dani. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

  Sarah gritted her teeth, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. Was this just coincidence? Or had she, somehow, started absorbing his coding style without even realizing it? As if on cue, a familiar teleport shimmer appeared on her island. Sarah snapped her head up just in time to see Mackiaveli materializing in front of her.

  Dani (in world chat): Oh, look who decided to show up.

  Mackiaveli: And here I thought I was welcome on your sad little island.

  Sarah rolled her eyes, but she could already feel her pulse quickening. It had been days since she last saw him. And now he just… appeared?

  Dani: You’ve been MIA.

  Mackiaveli: Busy. Prepping for something big.

  Her breath hitched slightly.

  Dani: You’re being vague again.

  Mackiaveli: Vague is my specialty.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  Sarah felt the urge to ask more, but instead, Mackiaveli casually glanced at her combat bot.

  Mackiaveli: So this is your top-secret project?

  Dani: Yeah. It’s an AI bot that reacts to attacks in real time.

  Mackiaveli: Huh.

  A pause. Then—

  Mackiaveli: Could use a little work.

  Sarah’s mouth fell open.

  Dani: EXCUSE ME?

  Mackiaveli: Your reaction system is decent, but your avoidance probability is static. It should adapt dynamically based on repeated attacks. Right now, if I spam the same attack, the bot dodges the same way every time.

  Sarah scowled, pulling up the code.

  Damn it. He’s right.

  Dani: Okay, fine. I’ll fix it.

  Mackiaveli: Good.

  For a moment, he hesitated, like he wanted to type something else. Sarah watched as his message box flickered, the telltale sign that he had started typing… and then deleted it. She narrowed her eyes.

  Dani: What?

  Mackiaveli: Nothing. Gotta go.

  And then—he teleported away.

  Sarah stared at the empty space where he had been, her mind buzzing.

  Why did he delete that message? What was he going to say?

  Her frustration only grew. Annoyed, she turned back to her code and started making adjustments. If Mackiaveli thought her AI was predictable, she’d prove him wrong. She rewrote the reaction functions, making sure the bot’s dodge probability evolved dynamically. Then, she pressed Run Script.

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  For a few seconds, everything looked fine. Then—

  ERROR: UNEXPECTED BEHAVIOR DETECTED.

  Sarah jerked forward. The NPC glitched, its movement becoming erratic. Instead of dodging logically, it teleported randomly around the area—phasing in and out of objects.

  Oh crap. Oh crap.

  She frantically tried to shut it down, but the system wasn’t responding. Then—

  A new message popped up.

  Mackiaveli: Dani… what did you do?

  Sarah blinked. He was back?

  Dani: I… might have broken something.

  Mackiaveli: You think? I can literally see your bot phasing in and out of existence.

  Sarah groaned, typing furiously.

  Dani: I don’t understand! I only adjusted the evasion patterns!

  Before she could finish typing, the bot suddenly froze mid-air. She stared.

  Dani: …Did you just fix it?

  Mackiaveli: Yep.

  Sarah’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.

  Who the hell codes this fast?!

  She pulled up the debug logs, expecting to see a complex edit. Instead, there was just one single line of code added.

  One…

  She gritted her teeth.

  Dani: Okay, I need to know. How are you this fast?

  Mackiaveli: Trade secret.

  Sarah huffed, still staring at the perfectly structured fix. She hated how good he was at this. And she hated even more that she admired it.

  Damn it, why does he have to be so… compelling?

  As she was about to type again, he logged off without another word, leaving her, once again frustrated and intrigued.

  Sarah trudged into class, running on four hours of sleep, two cups of coffee, and sheer spite. After last night’s coding disaster—where Mackiaveli had fixed her script in under three seconds—she had spent another two hours combing through her code, trying to understand what he had done.

  And now, here she was, in Professor Jansen’s lecture, half-listening, still thinking about it.

  That wasn’t just skill. That was… something else.

  She tapped her pen against her notebook, zoning out. Mackiaveli’s fix had been so… perfect. No unnecessary lines. No overcomplications. Just clean, simple, and effective.

  Who the hell codes that fast and that well?

  She barely noticed when someone dropped into the seat next to her. It was Steve McCall, “Morning, Daniger. You look… exhausted.”

  Her head snapped up, and she immediately scowled.

  “Good morning, McCall. You look… irritating.”

  Steve chuckled, resting his arms behind his head like he was completely at peace with himself—which only annoyed her more.

  “Rough night? Or were you up too late overanalyzing something?”

  Sarah froze.

  Her heart stuttered for a second. She stared at him in silence for a moment, but his expression did not change.

  The hell?

  It was such a specific way to phrase it. Her brain immediately flashed back to what Mackiaveli had said to her in Another Life the night before.

  “You’ve been overthinking things lately, Dani.”

  And now, Steve was saying almost the exact same thing? Sarah tried to play it off, forcing an eye-roll.

  “Why would I be overanalyzing anything?”

  Steve grinned, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  Sarah felt a small chill creep down her spine.

  No. Stop it. You’re just tired.

  Her instinct was to brush it off, but instead, she let her mind rewind the conversation again.

  What are the odds?

  It’s just a coincidence… right?

  She studied his face, but he looked utterly unbothered, as if he had just made a passing joke.

  You’re overthinking, Sarah. Stop it.

  Before she could say anything else, Professor Jansen started talking, and Sarah turned forward quickly, forcing herself to drop it. But for the rest of the class, she kept sneaking glances at Steve—wondering why he was suddenly getting under her skin more than usual.

  After class, Sarah gathered her things quickly, ready to escape. But before she could leave, a voice called out behind her.

  “Hey, Sarah! Wait up.”

  She turned to see Nathan Lin, another CS student—one of those people who knew everything about everyone in the department.

  “Hey, Nathan. What’s up?”

  Nathan adjusted his glasses, smirking.

  “I heard you got a special invite to the contest.”

  Sarah shrugged, trying to act casual.

  “Yeah. Guess Professor Jansen pulled some strings.”

  “You ready for it?”

  Sarah exhaled.

  “I’m working on it.”

  Nathan grinned, tilting his head.

  “You should be. I heard some serious competition is entering.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow.

  “Like who?”

  Nathan’s smirk widened.

  “Can’t say for sure. But rumor is, someone who’s really good at game scripting with Stoma AI.”

  Sarah’s stomach twisted.

  No. No way. There’s no way it’s…

  But she couldn’t shake the sudden, uneasy feeling creeping up her spine. She laughed it off, shaking her head.

  “Well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  Nathan grinned knowingly.

  “Yeah. You will.”

  Sarah got home, kicked off her shoes, and immediately logged into Another Life. She wasn’t even sure why.

  Maybe it was to get her mind off class.

  Maybe it was to check on her coding project.

  Maybe it was to see if Mackiaveli was online—not that she’d admit that last part.

  As soon as she entered the game, a notification popped up.

  New Message from Mackiaveli.

  Her heart jumped. She clicked it open.

  Mackiaveli: “Prepping for something big. Won’t be around much. Keep training.”

  Sarah stared at the message, her stomach doing something stupid and annoying.

  Prepping for something big?

  Her thoughts spiraled.

  Was he talking about… The contest?

  Oh. Hell. No.

  She started typing.

  Dani: “Are you joining the competition?”

  Mackiaveli: “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Sarah gritted her teeth.

  Oh, this smug son of a—

  She fumed, fingers flying across the keyboard.

  Dani: “Just say yes or no.”

  Mackiaveli: “What’s the fun in that?”

  Dani: “Mack!”

  Mackiaveli: “Dani.”

  Sarah exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throw something.

  He’s doing this on purpose. He’s messing with me. I know he is.

  Before she could respond, he typed something.

  Paused.

  Deleted it.

  Then sent something else instead.

  Mackiaveli: “Don’t stress too much, Dani. I’d hate to see you lose focus.”

  Sarah froze. Her stomach flipped so fast she felt lightheaded. Her pulse pounded as she stared at the words.

  What’s that supposed to mean?!

  Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

  Dani: “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

  Before the message even sent, his status flickered to Offline. Sarah gasped out loud, pushing back from her desk.

  OH COME ON!

  She scowled at the screen, feeling completely unhinged.

  He did that on purpose. I KNOW he did that on purpose.

  Her thoughts raced.

  Was this about the contest? Was he actually entering?

  Was he trying to mess with her head?

  She clenched her jaw, her competitive fire officially lit.

  If he is entering this contest… I’m going to beat him.

  This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.