You enjoyed bets and challenges because you knew you could easily win them. Today, you and Blade declared a war in the local club -- a drunk war.

"First to stop drinking is a loser," he mocked, holding his first shot. You took the bet despite knowing you had a low tolerance for alcohol, probably because he's pissing you off.

2 hours had gone, and you were both drowsy and had regular hiccups while struggling to maintain your focus. There were at least 6 bottles on the table now, yet none of the two wanted to accept defeat.

Blade groaned before letting out a hiccup, "Ugh... you're... slowing down." he pointed as he watched you struggle to take another shot.