Before the final syllable could even echo, the darkness above the arena erupted into a blinding neon glare.
A colossal, holographic, 360-degree plasma screen—stretching a massive 80 inches in scale—flickered into existence directly over the center stage. Looking up at it, my brain short-circuited on pure hacker logistics.
How the fuck can they even afford this layout?
The rendering budget alone for a live-feed neural projection of this size is fucking astronomical.
But the logistics didn't matter. Because the video playing on the screen was us.
It wasn't just a standard video recording.
It was a hyper-realistic, raw telemetry playback extracted straight from the deepest, most private sectors of our synchronized Share-Lock logs.
Every single drop of sweat, every desperate gasp, and every wet, visceral sound was magnified through the stadium's towering audio stacks, echoing with brutal, high-definition clarity over the heads of the stunned survivors.
