Wyatt Plague and the Land of Time                                                    By: notJonny                                                                                                 

Collaborators: theGenius9, PokeGod7 Quetz

Chapter 1: Mission - Escape Training

On a small jogging track located on the outskirts of a small suburban town, a lanky boy was running laps around the long, circular path with his father. He wore a good-natured, if not goofy-looking smile, though he didn’t seem to be smiling much this summer, unlike the other kids in his neighborhood.

He didn’t look very athletic and struggled to keep up his pace. His jet-black hair shone with sweat, his skin deeply tanned by the blazing sun. His arms and legs were very lanky, and his two brown eyes were very groggy from lack of sleep.

Wyatt Plague hated working out, especially with his dad. The gym at his school was torture enough, with all the smelly jocks and overweight dopes chucking dodgeballs, bowling pins, and basketballs at his face. 

But the terrors of Phys Ed had nothing on what he had to endure this summer. It drained him of all his energy, made his mind too groggy to do anything, blurred his eyes, and pulled every muscle and joint in his body. Sometimes, he even had wild hallucinations that he was a mindless zombie without a brain after a workout. 

The only good part was that after he was finished, when he would run home, gorge down every bit of scrumptious food his mom always prepared for him, scurry up the stairs, and dive into bed, drifting off into a deep slumber.

Today was exceptionally hot; the sun was glaring down at them like a mad hyena taking on a honey badger. The hot sun had evaporated every last droplet of heavy rain from the day before, so that there was no trace of water , except for the unbelievably humid air. Worse, the running track was practically burning through his shoes, and he had to run on his tippie toes so as not to get his feet burned off. 

All in all, it was a hideous day to work out outside. He begged his dad to let him work out in the gym. Even though it was icy cold there, it was better than the sweltering heat he had to endure if he worked outside.

“Of course not! You need to toughen up,” his dad would respond loudly when he asked. “You need to be outside gettin’ your Vitamin D.” 

“But I already have enough Vitamin D! My body will explode if I get any more!” Wyatt wailed. He just couldn’t work out today. 

The only reason he didn’t have skin cancer yet was that his mom made him wear this natural skin cream every day.        

Today was supposed to be “fun run Tuesday," which actually meant an extra three miles of sprints and an additional workout combo. To himself. The worst possible workout on the worst possible day to work out. What was his luck?

He hoped to convince his dad to do extra quick feet and jump rope or medicine ball in the gym, but sadly, it didn’t work. His dad was too psycho to listen to logic.

“I’m betting I won’t make it through 45 minutes of this practice without getting drowned in sweat,” Wyatt said under his breath, gritting his teeth. Maybe something bad will happen so I can stay home.”

Of course, he was out of luck. The words “It’s time for a Warm-up jog, Wy,” his dad growled in his trademark “or else” tone. 

Also, Wyatt did not make up the “Wy” nickname. It was made up by Wyatt's mom, who loved making cute nicknames for him. He had tracked twelve embarrassing nicknames from her mom, including salad, squash, and cutie π( Her mom was also a fair mathematician). It also attracted major attention at school because his mother was the president of the PTA, which made him an even bigger target for bullies.

 “Faster! This is a warm-up, not a pleasure cruise!” his dad roared at him. Hmm. Wyatt remembered those words from a Big Nate book. Coach John WAS a little similar to his dad. Plus, they both wore a toupee for some reason, which made his dad look even MEANER. (or goofier, but he couldn’t point that out, because he really didn’t need an extra workout on a day like this.)

His looks had nothing on his workout ideas, though. Most of them were completely EVIL.  His dad had the mindset of a rampaging herd of bison. But with a nastier temper. And slightly uglier. Fine, maybe a lot uglier. Okay, the only thing more disturbing than his fashion sense was his farts. And his Insane Workout ideas.

Wyatt decided to switch gears and think about the positives.

This will all be done, and I can go back to school and... UUUGGGHHH...get picked on by bigger kids. But it's better than this, especially with a new Number Theory textbook. Oh! And I have an I LOVE SCIENCE T-shirt! I’ll look ripped! Wyatt thought. Not exactly workout-friendly words.

“Come on!” his dad roared, surprising Wyatt, who was still deeply in thought. 

 “A freaking Banana Snail would beat you in a race, slowpoke!” Wyatt sighed. He kind of wanted to tell his dad that it was a Banana SLUG and not a Banana SNAIL, and there WAS a difference between slugs and snails, and maybe it was time to look back on his education history, but now probably wasn’t the time. 

His dad just loved insulting innocent out-of-shape kids. Wyatt was a rising middle schooler, going to 6th grade, so he had lived through three horrible summers of his dad’s workouts. His dad needed to quit this obscure summer training. Why did he care so much? Just because his dad was top of his phys. Ed. Class, and, according to him, everyone was terrified when he wasn’t on their team in dodgeball, did he have to try to make him the same? He wanted to live his summer, for once. His dad did horribly in school besides P.B though. He knew this because he had once climbed up into the attic to do his summer reading list in the middle of the night, and found his dad’s every single report card from 6th-8th Grade, which consisted of 35% F’s, 55% D’s, 9.77% C’s, and one single B- in Study Hall.

Because of this, Wyatt had no idea how they were even somewhat genetically related. His mom was a bit like him, but didn’t excel that much in science or any of the other core subjects (except math, with an 91.63% average), but more in art and music, and cooking. His dad, on the other hand, was the complete polar opposite of him. People could describe them as dark right and bright left. 

All in all, they were a pretty weird family based on similarities. His mind slowly drifted away as he thought of more and more reasons his dad couldn’t possibly really be his biological father.

“Hey, Chunky!” his dad suddenly yelled, startling him. (Wyatt thought it was a pretty stupid nickname, considering he weighed 90 lb and was in 7th grade.) “You need to pump those arms WAY more.” “I am trying!” Wyatt cried. (Totally.) Then he thought to himself, “I wish I could stay home and eat junk food and play on my Nintendo, PS5, and Xbox 360 all day.” Again, these are not exactly workout-friendly thoughts.

As if reading his mind, Wyatt’s dad roared, 

“TRY HARDER! You think eating junk food all day and playing on your Nintendo, PS5, and Xbox 360 will help you lose weight?” 

Wyatt suppressed a groan. That’s EXACTLY what I was thinking, and I need to GAIN weight, not lose weight, Dad! 

While Wyatt was running his Five-billion-mile sprint, a few strands of his wicked black hair flew onto his face, so far he could taste the drenching sweat on one of the more drenched strands. They tasted a lot like salty toads. “EWWW!!!” Wyatt said queasily.

He didn’t notice how much he was sweating. He hadn’t cut his hair in a while, so it made sense for some hair to get in the way when he was running thirteen miles per hour nonstop. But still. Yuck-worthy.

Then, to his horror, he noticed his hands were wrinkled by the sweat. His fingerprints were covered with gnarly lines, dripping with thick salt sweat. Usually, he liked it when his hands were wrinkled, but that was when showering, not sweating so hard that your hair tasted like seaweed. I didn’t know it was even possible, hands wrinkled by sweat. Wyatt thought to himself, tired out of his mind.

“Hurry up, soldier!” Wyatt’s dad, Michael, yelled again, a dark, angry expression on his face. That was Wyatt’s dad’s senior look, which he used to scare away Tom Brady and win a football game (What the HECK, FRICK, Σ!).

“I can’t take this anymore”, Wyatt whined. This was true, unlike all his other excuses for not doing his fitness torture routine. His two lanky legs felt like overcooked noodles, and half his shirt was sweat-drenched. It felt like he wore them in a thirty-minute shower.

Nonetheless, his psycho dad didn’t seem to care. “Stop complaining, or you're going to do twenty extra pull-ups at the gym!” “At least I get to do them in an air-conditioned building.”, Wyatt thought to himself, rolling his eyes. ”After doing seventy-eight push-ups, lifting a few 15-pound weights, throwing a 15 lb. medicine ball, and doing 50-something burpees, he couldn't just jog three miles! 

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Wyatt completed his seven hours of stupid exercise. I hope Dad will forget about the exercise for the rest of the summer so I can play video games and eat junk food, thought Wyatt, as he took a cold shower in 36-degree water, which still felt like 75 degrees after the workout. As he walked into his room, he started thinking of places to hide in his 2500  square foot house, which he thought was silly, because his dad earned around $90,000- $110,000 annually as a pro wrestler (a.k.a. a certified person who goes around kicking butts).

But whenever he questioned Dad about his mysterious feature of never spending his money, his dad just grunted and said, “None of your business,” as if he was uncomfortable with the idea of telling Wyatt anything useful, even though HE had to tell EVERYTHING that happened in school (Besides “useless” grades.) or he would call his teacher. Yes, calling the teacher. His dad probably would win the World Record for most time a parent has called a teacher utterly unfairly just to show his child who is boss. 

Wyatt went to get his iPad to play on Khan Academy, play Geometry Dash and Roblox, or watch cute videos of dogs riding skateboards (Cause who doesn’t like dogs riding skateboards?), but couldn’t find it. He looked around the room, but no technology besides a fitness watch lying on the ground he had pretended to use. He checked his closet, under his bed, and in his bookshelves, but found nothing.

This meant…GREAT! Just GREAT! Great, Great, Great, Great. Now his dad had taken his iPad away, too? He needed his iPad. He wanted to watch YouTube videos. C’mon, Dad. 

 Well, maybe this was a good thing, so he could focus on learning. It wouldn’t hurt to catch up on some ninth-grade Precalculus.

He searched for some kind of geeky textbook or a nerd-head Ken Ken, but he couldn’t find a single one. “NO! How am I supposed to survive without my science notebook? I just started an essay about how to stop hackers from breaking into my MacBook Air!!! I typed like 70 pages already!” 

Great. Now he had NOTHING to work on. He longed for school, where Mrs. Rebbe would be there and he could eat school meals that didn’t require eating six tons of chicken every day. He could sit alone at recess, nose buried in a book, relaxing under the nice cool shade the large oak trees provided him. He didn’t have to exercise for four consecutive hours, study Roman Legions with his dad, or understand the structure of an AK-47, M16A4, RPG, or AK-12, MP40. He just relaxed in school, tried to lie low, and not get wedgied so hard his underwear could be pulled over his head. And without being the target of the school's bullying organization, he would have a pretty darn good day. 

 “I can’t believe it’s only halfway through summer and I’m already hoping for school.” He slumped on his bed, thinking of something to do. He walked around, pacing the floor. His house felt like a Juvenile Detention Center. 

He finally found a good book to read: World War II, which had all the juicy info on the most secret weapons that were created in World War II. Hmm. Fat Boy and Little Man seem WAY too violent. The German V-2 bomb sounds cool. They seem super fast. 

Wyatt spent around thirty minutes savoring the book with all his attention. He couldn’t waste the precious moments of all the alone time he could get.

After reading the book about 329 times, Wyatt slammed it shut for supper. Supper? Oh, right. Thanks to the idiotic fitness regimen, he had skipped lunch. Wyatt opened the plain wood door, dashed across the usually littered floor, tumbled down the stairs, and saw the table GROANING under plates of beautifully cooked dishes. A fresh aroma of Fish, Chicken, steak, Meatballs, Pasta, ribs, american cheese, parmesan, tacos, assorted salads, sushi, and even a hint of Chinese Hot Pot soup came flooding into Wyatt’s nose. Clearly, his mom had borrowed a whole lot of moolah from his dad to make a meal this extensive. 

“Hey, Cutie π,” Wyatt’s mom said. I cooked a special meal for you because you were working so hard. I thought you needed some loading up.” “Aww! Amazing, Mom!” Wyat cried, then ran straight to her, wrapping her in an enormous hug and kissing her. 

“Ow! Oh, Wyatt, you're squeezing me. Why don’t you eat?” her mom exclaimed, laughing. “Oh. OK, mom!” Wyatt said happily, hearing her mom chuckling behind him.

Wyatt ate so fast that he gained a complete pound just from buttered corn, a family tradition, which was just one of his mom’s many amazing dishes. Wyatt’s mom could make good food appear out of thin air. The same could not be said for his dad, though. He was way too focused on nutritional value to cook anything that was actually edible.

Usually, he just didn’t put any salt and pepper and made meat raw, occasionally serving his own Like, Cordyceps Extract Oatmeal? And, “Cacao Nib Rice? He wanted to throw up just at the thought of fried lamb liver dipped in buttered salmon. I mean, even if it was a great source of Omega-3s, that was still out of his Call of Duty. After he just couldn’t eat one more grain of Fried Rice, Wyatt hopped straight into bed, preparing for another day of sprints, lateral lunges, and squats.

A few days later, his dad had FINALLY given up trying to make him work out after he accidentally threw a medicine ball straight at his face. Luckily, his dad didn’t get too mad, at least by his standards. It was around the Angry Lion and Poison Dart Frog.

But his dad still didn’t give back his essentials, including four science textbooks, five math workbooks, and six different journals. 

Even worse, Wyatt’s dad had somehow discovered his secret stash of junk food, hidden masterfully in a passageway disguised as a wall in his oversized closet behind a mound of clothes.

His dad was really good at sniffing out junk food. When his dad finally finished his lecture about hiding food from your dad, Wyatt started sobbing miserably. 

Without those, his summer was probably one of the worst times of his life. He wasn’t usually a crier, but there was nothing else to do at this point. Being bullied by students was one thing, but by your dad? That makes no sense.

He lay down on his bed, and for the 500th time this summer, he thought of things he could do. He thought about how when the main character of the book says something completely fictitious, it actually happened. "I wish I could just teleport wherever I wanted and time-travel and fight villains, and do more fun stuff. But instead, I have to spend the entire summer doing nothing." Wyatt paused for a fairy or a spirit or a ghost or a portal to another dimension to appear, but the only sound was the pouring rain pounding on the ground outside. 

The book, of course, was a bunch of random crap that no one needed, so it was boring. 

I mean, seriously? A whole chapter on how Ducks walk? Bruh. 

His dad really needed to stop taking his stuff. I mean, taking away iPads and Phones was one thing, but taking away BOOKS?! That was just plain outrageous. 

Before, his bookshelves were creaking under the weight of over 1500 books about fantasy, adventure animals, comics, and science.

Now, there were only books about famous bodybuilders, books about war, and advice about what underweight people should do.

Some of the books about war and battle tactics might actually have been remotely interesting, but unfortunately, Wyatt practically knew all of the things that they told him, because his perfect recall sadly expanded to his dad’s lectures.

After looking around the room for ONE book that was his style, he finally retreated into the coolness of his bed, giving up on finding anything interesting to do. His dad’s plan was foolproof: get Wyatt to only read books in his style, and mold him into a mini-dad. 

But Wyatt always had a plan C. And a plan D this Summer, because he knew his dad was going to make him work out. And it was time to put it into action. His plan was actually very straightforward. He would fake rolling his ankle so his dad couldn’t make him run, and then because his dad thought his ankle was broken, he would drop his guard in the books he was hiding, and in the dead of the night, he would creep out and search the entire house for the books, his iPads, and all of the other things his dad stole from him. 

Of course, he would have to make it look real, which wasn’t as straightforward, but he would deal with complications later. For now, he would begin the first phase of Operation Unpossessive, which was the first word that came to mind when he was deciding what to name his Operation. 

Step one of Phase One was to search the house for complications and also brainstorm possible places his dad could be hiding the books.

But after masterfully patrolling the house without arousing suspicion from his dad,he realized that his dad had expected him to look for his belongings. 

There were well-hidden security cameras located behind the large bookshelves, the TV, and even one hiding behind an innocent-looking Curious George that Wyatt had gotten from his 7th birthday.

Wyatt decided that to breach his dad’s cameras, he would have to do away with his midnight stealth mission plan, because obviously, the cameras must have super good light sensitivity if his dad was willing to trust them to detect any midnight missions like Wyatt had been planning. And obviously, he couldn’t block off the cameras with his shirt, or it would be suspicious, and his dad would check back on the books. 

Wyatt finally settled on using a shard of glass to reflect a bright beam of light at the cameras to temporarily blind them. This would also solve the problem of his dad being suspicious, because though highly unlikely, it was still possible. 

Of course, despite how low his dad’s intelligence was, he still had a half-functioning brain, and his half-functioning brain was smart enough to realize that cameras being constantly blinded by bright beams of light couldn’t be a coincidence. So he came up with a plan C remix, where he would hack into the security cameras and post fake tape to fool his dad. But hacking into security cameras wasn’t easy. 

After browsing the internet for ways to hack security cameras, he finally gave up and came up with Plan C Remix 2.0, which was where he would post a photograph of his house at just the right angle,  which would block Wyatt’s mission and allow him to carry on. Of course, the cameras would see him covering it up, so Wyatt would have to stun them for around a millisecond with some very vibrant e-images. Then, all he had to do was get some decoy books to fool his dad, before putting the books back to their hiding space, and taking some more books. 

It was the perfect plan, Wyatt thought, and he could finally live again. And the next day, he put his plan into action.

He got out of bed as early as possible, right when his mom opened the door of her bedroom and stumbled down the stairs. 

He made sure his dad was still sleeping, which wasn’t hard, as his dad’s snoring was just as audible as the entire crowd at the Super Bowl. He followed his mom down the stairs.

“Oh hey Wyatt,” his mom said when she saw Wyatt. “Why are you up so early? It’s like 6:00 a.m. I’m not gonna make you do a morning workout, don’t worry.” 

Wyatt let out a snort that was almost as loud as his dad’s snoring. “Yeah, thank goodness.” Wyatt’s mom smiled. Well, would you like some water, honey?” she asked. “Dehydration caused 8% of dizziness, did you know that?” “Yeah, I think I read it somewhere,” Wyatt replied. “And it can also cause confusion, rapid heart rate, and nausea.”
“Well, you certainly know a lot about that topic,” his mom said. “So you want water then? Or would you like a blueberry smoothie? We’re out of strawberries.” “Awesome! Yeah, I’d like the smoothie,” Wyatt beamed. His mom’s smoothies were awesome. 

While Wyatt’s mom blended the ingredients in the colorful mixer on the kitchen counter, Wyatt put his plan into action. He snuck over to the printer, and using every bit of cunning he possessed, he crept over to the printer and, covering the paper with his body, printed out a photograph of the living room. Then, after covering it up with an article about Egyptian Torture (which he was not going to read), he left the photograph on the printer while calculating the angle of the photograph needed to cover the camera perfectly, then changed the lighting so it would be perfect for the moment of his plan. 

While Wyatt was still busy calculating the needed shadow and opacity for the photograph, Wyatt’s mom called out, “Hey Wyatt, your smoothie’s finished!”

Crap. He wasn’t done calculating! But he had to drink the smoothie or he would arouse suspicion. Of course, his mom wouldn’t care as much as his dad, but if his dad somehow figured out that he was using the printer, he might suspect something suspicious was going on. 

Wyatt quickly wiped out the image history, making sure to remember the calculations in his head, and quickly ran into the bathroom to wash his hands. 

His mom’s smoothies were as good as always, but he was too panicky to really enjoy them. He quickly gulped down his smoothie, toughed out the brain freeze, and made an excuse to go to the printer again. After quickly inserting the appearance settings to be perfect angles for every single camera, he snuck the pictures upstairs to prepare for the 2nd phase of the plan. 

And that was conveniently when Wyatt’s dad walked down the stairs, glowering down at him.

Chapter 2: The Plan Into Action

Wyatt’s butt must have been mad at him for a week after he fell on it in surprise. 

“Er…Hey…dad. What’re you doing?” he asked casually, ignoring the screams in his butt.

His dad didn’t stop glowering. “Um, hello?” Wyatt asked. “What do ye mean hello?” “What’re ye doin’, gettin’ up so early in the mornin’? You wouldn’t get out of yer bed this early if a firefighter sprayed stinkin’ PEE on ye.” 

Wyatt suddenly imagined aliens spraying urine out of their eyes and exploding the planet. His dad really had to work on his metaphors. 

“Er…I was getting some water,” Wyatt said quickly. “Because I was thirsty. Also, it’s not that early. It’s like 6:40 by now.”  He’d miraculously had kept hold of the photos in his hand, and his palms were so sweaty he was afraid the paper might disintegrate.

“Yeah, and the devil knows when you came down here. Why don’t I ask your mom how long you’ve been up, eh?” his dad growled.

“Well, her smoothie’s going bad, so you might want to drink it.” Just like he expected, his dad’s eyes lit up.

“Oh really? Honey, can you get me some of your smoothie?” he asked. 

 “No problem! Ready in no time!” While his dad happily sipped on his smoothie, Wyatt decided to hide his photographs in a very well hidden air vent under a bookshelf. He made sure to flip the photographs and color the back the same color as the air vent to camouflage it just in case his dad did find the air vent. In his opinion, there was a better chance of him getting an A+ on AP Calculus than finding his photographs.

After chilling out on his bed for a while, recovering with his close call from discovery, he decided to check on his dad and simply ask for his books back. He didn’t really expect it to work, but he decided he had to do something useful with his time. 

His dad responded quickly with a classic “Hm, let me think about it. NO.” So Wyatt just marched back into his bedroom trying to find ways to foolproof his plan. 

After three weeks of designing, engineering, constructing, and even a bit of hacking, Wyatt managed to get his dad out the house, blind all the cameras, and engineer every fake video, photograph, and distraction he needed.

He crept up onto the couch, looking for areas of books, using a handy little gadget he had recently discovered called Bind™, which could find tiny computer chips anywhere in the word, which he could use to pinpoint the exact locations of most of his books. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to put it on his Mac and his iPods, but that was fine. He scanned the entire house, but it seemed that the electricity from the lightbulbs were blurring up the electrical signals coming from the microchips. He got a few flickers of electricity, but he couldn't exactly determine the locations of the flashes. 

After a few moments of searching, he found the first stash of books, tossed wildly everywhere. It seemed that his dad was being lazy about hiding his books, because they were all close together. And, he was right! There were more books tossed in a corner, and when he got out, he stepped on a hidden button that made a stack of books fall on his head. “OWWWW!” Wyatt whined. Then, he noticed that a part of the wall was tinted. He tried to pull on it, but it didn’t have a handle. So, the only option was to gently push on it. The “wall” turned out to be a piece of cardboard, which was where he found his precious electronics! He started scrolling through all the Discord messages he had missed over the past month. Wow, Wyatt thought. My friends were VERY active while I was gone.But then, he realized he didn’t have any friends! It turned out that they were all from his mom, trying to ping him so he would hear the notification sound, but of course his dad had put them on silent mode! Ughh. He came out of the secret room and started sleeping. 

Wyatt woke up with a start. A voice was coming out from under his bed."Stop whining, we’ve got you covered. Cuz Craz-E Army is on top of it. What a lame motto. I hate it.”  

“Whoa. Who was THAT?” Wyatt said. “Am I hallucinating?” He whacked himself on the table a couple of times. All of that running must have made him delirious. But the ghost voice continued. “So, all you need to do is to find eight pieces of teslenite, put them in the large fountain in your attic, and you can join the great world of magic, spirit, and-”

"Whoa, Whoa WHOA. First, who are you? Second, we have a fountain in our attic? I’ve never seen it! And what do you mean? Like what magic and spirit and stuff?” 

The voice didn’t respond immediately, as if it were thinking. “Hmm. Well, if you want to know THAT, you’ll have to prove to the bathroom mummy that you're good enough. We’re finding recruits for our army. It’s for a dimension named ‘fRenZY’. Only people who prove their worth can join. Bye! Don’t disappoint me!” the ghost voice said. 

“WAAIIIT!” But it was too late. The voice was gone.

  And he was alone, with a quest, with zero experience.

In a small urban city where cars were bumping into each other everywhere and families were chatting with friends, a group of teenagers were huddled together, mumbling excitedly and trading tiny cards. Each card they held was wrapped in tiny silver see through foil. The smallest of the group, an eleven-year-old Max, had a mission: He wanted to get a rare six eye. The reason he wanted it was because of the Fuse Machine. If he got three six-eyes and fused them, normally, that might have given him something decent like a Glitched Sharkadon, but because of a glitch he had found in the code of one of the chips, he could get an Eighteen-Eye.

An Eighteen Eye would be Unobtainable Rarity, the best rarity of all. Unobtainables were not able to be collected by normal means, and you’d have to use exploits or glitches to get one. Unobtainable could be worth but-tons of money, the rarest worth one and three-quarters of a million dollars. 

But the best thing these people had was a measly Chromadon. A Supreme, so not bad, but the six-eye was a Mysterious, which was much better than the Chromadon.

A battle horn sounded, indicating that battles were open. Max sighed. Most of the people battling weren’t serious gamers like he was. Most didn’t have a card better than a Supreme. Luckily, he managed to get in a ranked tournament, but he joined late and had to fight a complete rookie.

They spread out over a stand and tapped it twice. The stand booted up. “Please place down your cards,” a droning robotic voice boomed. Max placed down a bloodborn and an explosive trap. The young teen put down a horrible Gillorama, which was cool, but just a base. He also put down a Vicunor, which was a supreme. “ BEGIN” shouted the voice. His bloodborn shone like the sun, then created a holographic bloodborn from the card.. He grabbed a controller and raced to his opponent's tower. It climbed the stairs and attacked the newly spawned Vicunor. It smashed the face and threw it off the tower. The Gillorama was nowhere to be seen.

Then it jumped out in front of him and ran as fast as it could, but because it was a mutant and had eight tentacles it was very hard to control. The Gillorama fell to the ground. Max quickly placed his explosive trap there and BOOM. The Gillorama was history. The crowd gasped. “ That was our best player,” said one teen. “If that was your best player, then you guys have no chance at the finals,” Max said. 

Then, a different person walked beside him. By the looks of it, she was about 11 years old, a bit older than Max. “Wanna fight?” she asked. “Or trade? I got a few good cards.”

“Let’s see them,” Max said. She probably didn’t have a six-eye, but maybe he could get some cards that he could put into the fuse machine to get it. 

“I got a Sci-Fi Sharkadon,  Voidwalker, a Timeswapped Cythulu, and a Rain Regon. That’s all I’m willing to trade, what have you got?”  

“Can you show me them?” Max said. He had met scammers who had given him fake cards in the past, and he really couldn’t afford to lose any of his best cards. 

“Sure,” she said. She put the cards down. They all had the proper foil, and the correct codes. She was right! She really had a Rain Regon! And the Cythulu! It was one of the last cards he needed to fuse. “Okay, I'll trade the Regon for my Bloodborne, and the Cythulu for the Illorodon. “

“Sure,” she said. Wow, she was so not talkative. They  made the swap on the machine. The Rain Regon had a really high chance of fusing into a six-eye.” Wanna fight?” she asked. “ Nah, I’ve had enough fights for today. I should get back to the competition.” Max walked out of the building to the nearest shop. Every one in the world had what he was searching for. He walked in. The shop was called veggie dreams. That went to show how the game had taken over the world. He walked up to the counter and grabbed three card packs. He paid for them with a few credits. 

He tore the cards apart. “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” Max had gotten a Catacrow, the last card he needed to fuse. He immediately fused the cards on his phone, but it would take another 10 minutes before they would be revealed. He also entered the Corrupted Journey, which would almost certainly get him a six-eye, if not multiple. But the quest was incredibly hard, forcing him to get the Corrupted Trait on his base and his fuse Machine, and sacrifice three Zombified Skeleton Reaper Heads in a ritual.

DING. His phone beeped. “THE FUNNY EVENT HAS STARTED!!!!” a message read. 

Max immediately raced to the shop again and paid again and opened his packs again. He got the Burrito Brothers, a Clown Chowdown, and a Fat Baby Pumpkin.” 

WAIT! He had forgotten to pause his fusing, because the results were  affected by the event. He canceled the event just in time so it wouldn’t be a funny mutation. He opened the machine.

“ WHAT? OH MY GOD YES!!” He had gotten a Dimension Beast, which was a God, even better than a six-eye. Of course, he needed a six-eye to get the eighteen-eye, the possibly rarest card in the game, but for now, the Dimension Beast was a good start. It was a 5% chance, so 1/20, while the six-eye was a 20% chance.

His phone dinged again. “ Whyyyyy!” he yelled. “WHY DO I GET THESE SPAM MESSAGES” He roared. “ Your mom sent you a gif” the robotic voice droned. “ You have also qualified for the finals.” “ YESSSSSS” he went. Then he put his phone on silent mode. He walked for the exit of the store and grinned. He went back to the Trader’s Outpost. Everyone went silent when he came in. He slammed all his cards on the table and said, “If you beat me, I'll give you all my cards.” The robotic voice confirmed the bet. Then it was go time. The warhorns blew. He grabbed a controller and let loose. His god, which looked like a hydra dragon with 8 eyes on every head and it ran on two legs. He charged the tower, killed everything inside, and ran out with full HP.

Max quickly buffed his Corrupted Phantom Cobra with speed, and it charred forward. The enemy swiftly put down five bear traps, but the cobra was too quick. Then, the enemy placed a Seleknight, a God. The Seleknight charged forward and full force rammed him. Max corrupted him and moved on. Max climbed the tower, his 64 eyes glancing around. He landed on top of the tower and broke the Heartstone. “ I win!” he yelled. He turned around and strode out of the outpost, collecting his cards on the way. He went to the airport and registered himself as Max Bilton. He was escorted to a private lobby where 4 very bored looking teenagers waited. The teens looked at him and instantly brightened. “ Hi, wanna battle, " said the youngest one.” Sure, Max said. Max did the whole drill again. Cards, fight, climb, and break. The young one grinned. “ Wow, you are strong.” he exclaimed.” The Mech event has started.” All the kids grinned. They hopped on their phones and purchased packs. A few exclaimed” YES” but the best Max had gotten was a Mech Kid Army, which spawned an army of kid mechs that were bots.

The attendant announced the flight was here. They boarded the flight. It took 6 hours to get to the destination. When the doors opened, A Massive shadow shrouded figure stepped in.