When the final screen tallied up the kill count, the numbers shone with beautiful clarity:
Me: 20 kills.
Kaelira: 19 kills.
Victory.
Glorious, petty, absolutely insignificant in the grand scale of things—but it was mine. And I wasn't about to let it go to waste by being "humble" or "mature."
Screw that.
I turned toward Kaelira with a smug grin that could fertilize a field with how much ego it carried. "Now, now… no need to cry. With just 500 to 1000 years of intense daily practice, you might reach this enigma's level. But worry not—I shall continue to look down on you. Fully. Respectfully. Condescendingly."
She didn't miss a beat. Scoffed. Swatted away my jabbing finger like it was a fly. "Get lost, you overdramatic rodent. We had a one kill difference. One. Don't act like you just became a goddamn warlord."
