A Hidden Game

"Welcome to the arena of heroes!"

The male announcer's voice boomed all over the coliseum where the esports tournament was being held. Several multiplayer online battle arena video games were slated to take the stage for the grand championships this year, and James' expertise, The Wrath of Heaven, would have its most controversial tournament yet, since its all-time King announced his "retirement" from the game.

The rules of tournament remained the same. While TWOH was a MMORPG with several worlds and quests aimed at single players, the esport allowed MOBA-style single combat and team brawler in the Hall of Heroes – the arena for global champions. Tonight, James was expected to crush all his opponents in the hall, and everyone, both live and online audiences, was glued to the information screens. After a series of other esports played during the day, people scrambled to the hall to place their bets. They already knew that James would win tonight as though it were destined – and those who were stupid enough to think that he would lose were masochistic weirdos. The bet was not about who would win, rather who would the King brutally destroy in the final battle.

James knew about the bet, and he had taken part in those petty guessing games a lot of times too. But a different thing piqued his interest tonight.

While he was in his own VIP tent checking the stock market in his tablet, he overheard two staff members by the entrance talking rather excitedly. James saw them from the tent's open doorway.

"That's what they said. Unbelievable, those jerks," the lady wearing a black and red polo and a Project Delve cap said to her male co-worker, who was having trouble unraveling his tangled earphone.

"I mean, why would they even bother? I get it. Don't you?" the man asked as though it were obvious.

"I don't," the lady retorted. "Why would they even do that? He's the King!"

James never cared about people gossiping, but rumors about him actually killed him inside. What the duck were they doing talking about him while he's relaxing in the tent? If people just used their time in more productive things, the country would be in better shape, but here they were, blabbing about him.

So he did what every productive citizen would do in this situation. He went closer to the doorway to spy on the staffers.

"That king is a fraud," the guy snapped at the lady.

This jerk should learn how to shut up. Or maybe put stitches on his lips. Although he might be talking about other kings? Right. Kings were a dime a dozen. That uncouth staffer couldn't be talking about him, could he?

"The king that we're talking about is the best," the lady said with conviction.

James confirmed the king was him. No other king could be better. This lady knew what she was talking about. He likes this lady. She must be a Shadow.

"Yeah," the guy staffer said then snorted. James could smell the verbal irony entering the tent like foul air. "He's the best at everything. That's why they banned him."

Banned? Who's banned? Him? "The" King?

"Imagine the hatred that they felt for them to ignore him. You know, just to keep the server a secret."

Oh, James could never imagine how they felt. It did not matter to him. What mattered was this secret server.

"They shouldn't have! I thought they were better than this," the lady said. She was clearly disappointed. James guessed that the "they" were the other gamers who banded together to hide their stupid little secret.

"Don't blame them," the guy said. "When your guy told the press that he would retire from the game, they weren't happy you know. Not because they wanted him to stay... it's just, he just too.... unlikeable."

Who's the unlikeable person?

"So after the king's interview, Delve had to do it, you see," the guy continued. "Delve gave away the keys to the secret game. And the gamers just decided not to tell James. I mean... there's no point, right?"

Of course, it's pointless, James agreed in his head, but keeping it a secret from him felt like he was a nobody in this game. And this feeling – the one that was slowly burning in his chest, prickling his insides like a thousand little needles – was the very sensation that he hated the most. He was actually planning to take it easy in the tournament, but after learning about this game that those jerks deliberately hid from him, he changed his mind. Nobody could cross a king.

He vowed that he would teach all his opponents a lesson tonight.

And that's what he did. Tonight's tournament was the most underwhelming. Right after the critical parts of the game were cleared by the players and the arena opened, James massacred his enemies using his character's simplest weapons: a pair of karambits – small hand knives that did not need magic. He assaulted the other heroes without the use of special powers. Clearly, it was more of an attack to the gamers' skills. Everyone knew that James was capable of this, but nobody expected that he would flaunt his skills while taunting others.

During the awarding ceremony, the representatives from Project Delve, an old and balding businessman and his cohort, a twenty-something game developer who hid his tired eyes in his spectacles, flanked James who half-heartedly accepted an oversized check in front of the cameras.

The old man whispered to him, "Nice game. We'll miss you," while the young nerd tapped James' shoulder twice before exiting the stage. James grabbed the young man's arm and said, "I don't want the check. I want the hidden game."

Surprised, the game developer was immobile for a while. Losing his patience, James clicked his tongue, stared at the developer's tired eyes and said, "Give me access to your hidden game." The young man looked at the people behind the cameras, and then the losers of the tournament, before he returned his gaze at the nineteen-year-old. "It's a company secret. And you're officially a competitor now. It's against the rules. And ethics. If you know what those are."

The old businessman unhooked a button of his suit and loosened his TWOH necktie while giving a nervous laugh. "We're all friends here. We're all friends," he said while ushering (or pushing) James and the developer to the backstage so they could talk properly.

"I gave you ideas," James started. "Your other games sucked, but they were published because of me. You earned money because of me."

"We paid you!" the developer started, but before he could chew James alive, the old man, who stayed calm, stood between the two.

"C'mon, boys, we're friends here," he said, which felt like he was reassuring himself that everything's fine even though it's not. "Nathan, just give the king a spare key. It doesn't matter."

Nathan's tired eyes widened. The boss must be joking!

"Isn't it just a... hobby? The hidden game?"

Really? Why would the boss say these things? Even though he was smiling, his eyes were saying a different thing, like he would beat the heck out of Nathan.

Exasperated due to helplessness, Nathan walked himself out, leaving the boss who started rummaging his pockets for a business card to give James.

"Don't worry," the boss told James. "We'll give you the key later. He'll definitely contact you."

Hours later, James received an invitation from Nathan to join the secret chat server with the note, "SPOILED BRAT."

~oOo~