That night in the city, the air reeked of gunpowder and despair—a familiar blend that had become the official perfume of that place. While Jack trained Kloe to become a strong contender in the Euphoria app tournament, the rhythm of the system never stopped. Death was the only calendar, and its notifications rang endlessly.The next broadcasted match was a duel that would leave deep scars in the minds of those sickened users. Marco versus Leo. Marco was a chemical engineer who had turned to the app in a desperate bid for money, lured in by the promise of cash through its old challenges. He was an improvised genius with homemade explosives, capable of turning anything—from a microwave to a trash bin—into a lethal weapon ready to blow.Leo, on the other hand, was a young man without a past, a master of hiding, waiting, and blending into his surroundings. He had spent some time in the army, forced by his mother, and the best thing he learned there was the art of camouflage. That’s why he

Steve’s blood still stained Alec Walton’s hands, but the euphoria of victory coursed through his veins like a sweet narcotic, dulling the horror of what he had just done. He was walking away from the slaughterhouse, the stench of death still clinging to his skin, when a flicker in his peripheral vision made him stop instantly.A shadow. Not a cop. Not another fighter. It was just Kloe.She was there, hidden in the gloom of a nearby alleyway, her eyes locked on him, devastation etched on her face, her breath fogging up in the cold air. But there was also something else in her gaze—a deep curiosity that was almost tangible. Alec’s Absolute Millionaire System detected her presence, but he had already sensed it. Their eyes met across the distance.“Come out, Kloe,” said Alec, his voice hoarse from the fight, yet carrying a tone he hadn’t used in years. It wasn’t a command—more like a plea.Kloe hesitated. Then, as if pushed by an invisible force, she stepped out of the shadows, her clothe

Dawn brought no calm—only the cold weight of the reality they were living in. Alec Walton and Kloe still had the taste of the previous night in their mouths. Every so often, their eyes met by chance, ending in a smile filled with complicity. They arrived at the abandoned warehouse. The place smelled of dust and rust, a far cry from the luxury building where they had spent the night.Jack Stanton was already there, his silhouette rigid against the shadows, surrounded by crates marked with explosives and weapons. His face was a mask of ice. The presence of Alec, the scent of expensive perfume and intrusive luxury, only thickened the air between them."You're late," Jack said without looking at Alec, his eyes fixed on the holographic map projected by his Absolute Millionaire System.The truth about Kloe—the brutal revelation that had hit him—had turned into silent resentment toward Alec. Jealousy was a slow, unnamed poison coursing through him, and Jack, unable to admit it, disguised it

The creak of the wood was a thunderclap. The heavy church door, which Jack had secured with all his strength, shattered, blown off its hinges. Magnus burst into the dim light, his monstrous silhouette outlined against the sunlight streaming into the church. He didn’t use the bazooka, now out of missiles, nor the submachine guns. He used his bare hands. He no longer had guns or weapons to fight, but he still had all the power and skills the Millionaire System had given him—and that was enough to kill Kloe with his own hands.His face was twisted in rage and a sadistic smile. He raised the submachine guns, aiming at Jack, Alec, and Kloe, all lying wounded on the ground. Click. Click. Click. The magazines were empty. He had emptied them during the chase.Magnus tossed the weapons aside in disgust, the metal clanging loudly against the wooden floor.“I’ll have to do it with my own hands, bitches.” His voice thundered through the church, echoing in every corner.Jack, wounded in the side,

The building loomed imposingly over the citadel—a colossal structure of steel and glass piercing the murky sky and its artificial clouds. From its heights, Carl Stanton, Absolute Millionaire Number Zero, ruled over his empire of chaos. His Euphoria App had been a great success so far—or at least, that was what Carl forced every elite millionaire in the citadel to believe.But even at the pinnacle of power, betrayal is always a possibility. Unbeknownst to him, a small society was weaving its web. Carl knew it. The oligarchy of millionaires he had cultivated—those who thrived on his sadistic game—were wolves in sheep’s clothing, waiting for the perfect moment to fight for their freedom. And the hungriest of them all for that freedom was Millionaire Number Three.Millionaire Number Three, a man whose original name had faded over time, lost in the maze of false identities and covert operations, moved like a shadow among the elites Carl had allowed to prosper.His face was marked by years