029 Idol Arc 5: Simulation Tournament 1

After saying goodbye to Mina, I headed toward the guild… but then remembered I didn’t actually need to go. The wristband’s network allowed me to sign up for everything remotely.

First, I made my way to the residential sector, to the room assigned to me, and settled in.

The private storage bays were arranged in three directions—forward and to port and starboard—along the outer rim of the station, so each bay, warehouse, and living quarters formed a continuous stretch along the full length of the ship.

Mine was a special storage bay designed for two warships, so it leaned more toward the size of a battleship bay than the standard cruiser bays.

Since the station was circular, the larger ship bays were positioned closer to the center.

Which meant I was in the elite sector—no friends around, no neighbors to chat with. Just me. As usual. Still the lone wolf.

The private storage bay and living quarters are stacked vertically, with emergency protocols allowing immediate transfer to the standby room adjacent to the bay.

A warehouse lies beyond the living area, on the station's outer rim—direct access from the storage bay lets us move recovered and seized goods straight inside.

Right now, it holds the railgun parts I paid a fortune to secure, even after pulling them from a leased storage unit.

Big caliber is the top priority, after all.

The room is two-bedroom, dining, bath, and toilet—newer and more luxurious than any Earth home.

Ah, so that’s why my sister barely ever comes home.

Sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, I activate the wrist device.

A VR screen flickers to life. I open the guild’s homepage, then navigate to the simulation battle entry page.

Currently, only a few entries are available in the open class and beginner class.

An arbitrary class is a challenge acceptance for a fleet so full of confidence it dares anyone to try and beat them. "Come at me, if you think you can." No challenge is too great.

Anyone can do it—beginners too—but this is a high-stakes wager match where the loser hands over their gear to the winner. Too risky.

And since there's no handicap, if it's just me, I'll have to fight solo—single ship, no backup.

Challenging someone with no advantage at all? That’s reckless.

Beginner class has some fine-tuned conditions attached.

"R18 baseball fists rules? What the hell is that?"

Touch the screen to view the rules of Baseball Fist.

The Baseball Fist rules are based on the idea that when damage is taken, the avatar's armor peels off.

Men too will fight until they become female avatars... and fully nude.

Women are welcome to join, but don’t complain if you end up completely naked.

The playback footage will be streamed unedited—prepare yourself.

It was an erotic livestream.

A matchstick fight where both sides flaunt their eroticism.

And since it's all fake, there's no shame in it.

A pointless flower that evolved not toward strengthening the ship, but toward making money from the stream.

A few careless victims are bound to show up.

There are also proper simulation tournaments.

Even beginner classes are divided into fleet ranks, broken down into fine categories.

Start at G rank, rise one rank by winning the tournament.

Until then, you can only enter tournaments within your current rank.

Meaning, if you don’t win, you stay stuck at G rank forever.

Higher-ranked simulation tournaments offer bigger prizes.

You can earn prize money for just one win, but you won’t make serious cash unless you win the whole thing.

Wait—hold on. You can’t even pay the enrollment fee unless you win three times, at least, to reach D rank.

G-rank simulation tournament’s been around long enough—just keep jumping in, one after another.

Each simulation tournament’s a single-elimination with eight fleets, so you gotta win three times to get to D rank.

Our force only has RIO for the first match—second and third will be brutal.

For now, enter solo and get a feel for it.

Seven matches in one day—so if I lose quick, I’ll just use the leftover time to collect debris.

Lose? No big deal. Stack up debris collection and one win’s prize money.

If the enrollment fee still doesn’t add up, I’ll go begging to the Prince—*please, Prince, help me out*.

Better sign up for tomorrow’s match with fewer ships.

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