by Wolfe Locke
I even saw the ice mage that had killed me early on, trying to get a cola out of a vending machine. When I turned to look back at Griswold to press for details, he was gone.
This was basically my worst nightmare. I was trapped in a room full of people I didn’t know and had nothing to do but mingle over small talk and food. That was the ticket, food. I searched around and saw a line had formed at a long table against the wall, and while the food wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t amazing either, just good old-fashioned Southern cuisine, which meant fried everything.
After I had a plate full of chicken, beans, and coleslaw, I went and perched against a wall, trying to give the hint that I didn’t want to be bothered. I’m sure a few of the wolf people I saw snickered and pointing at those of us who made it a point to eat, but that was their problem to deal with, not mine. At least I wasn’t going to be hungry.
“I was afraid of this,” I heard Griswold mutter under his breath as he approached me with two of the burliest dudes I’d ever seen, like they were straight out of a Conan movie. Both seemed pretty frat-tastic and young. The only way I could really tell them apart was by hair color; one had blond hair, and the other had no hair at all. “I see you’ve been using your time wisely to form a team for the next round and pick up sparring and training partners.”
Uh, what? That was news to me. “What do you mean? We’ve got three days.” At least that was what the notifications had said, and I was going off of that unless he’d heard different.
He shook his head. “Never trust the notifications. At least not most of them. The information might technically be right, but could still be wholly wrong. I doubt we’ve more than an hour or two before the next event. Anyway, these are my other prospects. Groog One and Groog Two. No, I didn’t give them those names. Just like you, these two brothers chose an alias.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but I liked theirs more.
Griswold interrupted us just before we could shake hands; a curtain started to raise up from the stage. “You’ll have plenty of time to get introduced later, so you’ll have to hold off on sharing your feelings and holding hands until after we’re done here. It looks like the presentation is about to start.”
Chapter 29: The Big Three
Griswold grabbed me by the shoulders with his old man hands, making sure to get my attention and the attention of the two Groogs who accompanied him. “Whatever the three of you do, don’t get separated. For better or worse, the four of us are a team until the individual rounds.”
I had no reason at the time to disagree or tell him to fuck off like I wanted to. Like it or not, the man had kicked my ass and knew his way around and I had to admit, I was more than a little curious about the Crusaders he represented. A curiosity based on more than just the prospect brand he had basically burned into my skin.
If my dubious math was correct, we were all of two days into the apocalypse, so for him to be such a high level, and representing a faction, something didn’t quite add up, and I needed to know more. Either he had found some sort of exploit that I needed in on, or this wasn’t his first rodeo. I hoped for the former, but pretty much assumed the latter. Griswold didn’t seem like he was from around here and old men like that had secrets. I didn’t need my gut screaming at me to pick up on that.
The entire room went quiet as the lights started to dim and zeroed in on the stage. Literally, everyone stopped what they were doing, and all eyes turned in the same direction as a small wooden production door opened up and out walked the most gangly, awkward-looking man I’d ever seen in my life. A balding and scrunched up face that only a mother could love, with a goatee that was trying too hard.
It was almost comical. The man was obviously terrified. What I remember most was how his hands shook and wouldn’t stop shaking, a trembling you might expect from a diabetic in need of insulin or somebody in the early stages of Parkinson’s.
He raised the microphone to his mouth and discreetly tried to read from the written notes he held palmed in the other. His voice was just as unsteady as his hands were.
“Welcome, participants! You’ve done well to make it this far. You might recognize my voice from the loudspeakers during the Decimation Series. My name is Mr. Timms. I’m the former administrator for the convention center and have been allowed the honor of being the announcer for the entirety of the Black Tournament.”
“First things first, I’d like to introduce our top three participants. When you hear your name, come on up to the stage.”
Griswold made sure to nudge me as he pointed to the stage. I was already paying attention, but as things roll downhill, I in turn nudged at the two brothers who seemed more concerned with helping themselves to some of the food that had been laid out than what the man was saying.
“With a total kill count of 119, we’d like our current first-place participant and top seed, Redux T. Bundy, to come forward.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing, but everyone started to clap for the man to congratulate him, and I decided to follow suit as I tried my best to take the measure of the person who stood up and gave a small wave and smiles around the room. He looked boringly normal with an ivy league style haircut, wearing just a pair of khaki slacks and a black polo, but you could tell behind his oversized veneers that this guy was a real predator.
“Next up, with a total kill count of 43, we’d like our current second-place participant and second seed, Hans, to come forward.”
This time I didn’t see anyone stand up but instead felt the crowd behind me start to part as Hans sort of darted in between people with the same kind of bashfulness I’d expect of a teenager prior to the discovery of deodorant and Old Spice. Never mind, he’s just some asshole kid. The way Hans was dressed, I’d recognize that angst anywhere. You could only find it in your early teens or the clothing store Zandercrombie Goth. The boy took his place next to T. Bundy, and it wasn’t lost on me that he looked every bit as uncomfortable as I would in the same position. I’m not saying the man scared me, but he was definitely a certified killer.
“And lastly, with a total kill count of 24, we’d like our current third-place participant, third seed to come forward. Dr. Senpai, if you please, do step forward.”
Ah, Jesus Christ, this fucking guy again? How is he not dead? Unlike everyone else, all I could do was stare; I couldn’t join in with the clapping. Bundy might have scared me, and I might have been a bit too dismissive of the boy’s power, but Dr. Senpai pissed me off and fueled my inner rage monster. I didn’t have any enemies or hold any ill will towards anyone except him. If I got the chance to bash his brains in, I was going to take it.
The announcer held up his hands to get everyone to quiet down. “Fantastic, ok, now that our top three participants are up here, the commission would like to formally reward you each with ten upgrade tokens and one ability token. We’ve taken the liberty of making a necklace of each. These tokens can be redeemed at the end of this round.”
What does he mean this round? I wasn’t the only one who noticed that little slip of the tongue as a low murmur of dissent started to spread throughout the crowd. Maybe before the individual matches?
Griswold got my attention and pulled me and the two Groogs to him as the announcer tried to get everyone’s attention before continuing. “Listen up closely, you three. In all my years of doing this, this is the first time I’ve seen such blatant fuckery. They’re up to something. If it’s what I think it is, don’t take the bait. Try to stay together and look for opportunities to pick up easy kills. This is not the time to be a hero. Not even you, reincarnator. If you get yourself killed, these two Groogs die.”
The Groogs seemed unphased by the admission and by his stern warnings, but I was curious. “What about you? Do you get to lean on your levels in an emergency to get out of here? I’m assuming that level cap restriction you have isn’t permanent?”
Griswold raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you know about that, do you? Must have a scan ability or a companion AI? That
makes things more manageable then. I’m also an immortal in a more traditional sense. It really isn’t that big of a deal. It’s one of the more common abilities to unlock and not quite as amazing as you might assume it is. Though unlike you, I have other abilities and talent to lean on besides being unafraid of dying, I just can’t use any of them besides the Eyes of Twilight here.”
“Ok then, what about you guys?” I asked the two Groogs, wanting to know what they could do. Cornfed boys like that, looking straight out of a football movie, I assumed we had two beefcakes who might be able to soak up a little damage. I was wrong.
“Well…” said Groog One. “I’m actually a supporter. I’ve only got a few abilities right now, but I promise they’re good ones. I can keep you alive with them if you manage to keep people off of me. One’s a shield, and the other is a root.”
“And mine,” explained Groog Two. “I’m a mage. Nothing too fancy just yet, but I can throw out an almost endless supply of fireballs and some fire crafting, if that counts for anything.”
I was stunned, floored, disappointed. “What do you mean, you guys are casters? Not tanks? Not barbarians? What the shit, guys, who’s supposed to tank then?”
Griswold patted me on the shoulder. “That would be you, buddy. The boys here got to pick an upgrade for how well they scored in the first round; they opted for a race change into giant-kin. Seriously, did you just assume their classes?”
I didn’t really have any quick response and didn’t have time for it either as I tried to listen to the last bit the announcer had to say, but I missed it. The lights turned back on. “Anyway, thank you all for coming out. The next round will start as soon as I clear the stage.”
Notification: Current Event - Survivors Battle Royale.
Details: For the Survivors Battle Royale, you may join into teams of up to 5 to try to survive until either the allotted time of 30 minutes has elapsed, or until 50 participants remain. The top 3 seed participants will be their own team.
Notification: Survivors Battle Royale -Victory Conditions.
Details: To advance to the Individual Battles, a participant must meet one of the criteria.
Criterion A - Be seeded in the final 50.
Criterion B - Seize an ability or upgrade token.
Criterion C - If all three of the top seeds are killed or have all of their ability and upgrade tokens taken, all participants advance to the next round.
Criterion D - At least two members of a team must survive.
Notification: Survivors Battle Royale - Rewards.
Details: For each criterion met, the members of the advancing teams will be granted (10) stat points to be used.
The room fell under a hush as everyone looked about frantically as the three on the stage looked on with what could only be described as blood lust.
“Remember, you three,” cautioned Griswold. “There’s no way you can beat them, the best option is to weed out enough of the other participants to reach that final fifty seed threshold. I’d suggest upgrading anything you can before it starts.”
Chapter 30: As More Blood Flows
What Griswold said didn’t sit quite right with me. I didn’t want to win by pulling out some bullshit fuckery to get the W. The killing so far hadn’t bothered pretty much at all, and why would it? It wasn’t like I’d killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. I had this sort of “it is what it is” attitude about it. But to try to win like this? It didn’t feel right at all. It was the coward’s way out and I may have been a lot of things, and a coward might have been one of them, but this? I couldn’t do it. I mean, I could, but I really didn’t want to.
Not that Griswold cared as he motioned for our team to move out and headed down a corridor, the Groogs starting to use abilities on me that boosted my raw strength and covered me in a complete body shield that was supposed to absorb damage. In comparison, my use of Accumulate was hardly impressive, but I made do with what I had.
What followed could only be described as a gory hell on Earth, full of decadent violence. Violence so extreme that it was hard to even describe in reasonable terms. Violence that I wasn’t there to witness, because I was running out of the room with the rest of the team, trying to put some distance between ourselves and the big three. But don’t you worry, it was televised with picture in picture recaps.
Once the administrator had left the stage, two of the big three immediately went into action. By the time I saw what was happening on the screens throughout the auditorium, a few of those closest to the stage had already been turned into clouds of red mist. I’d missed what happened until the recap caught up. It was horrifyingly amazing to watch them basically be pulverized as Mr. Number One himself used some kind of stretching gigantification to reach out and grab a hold of Barry the Iceman. Who, to his credit, managed to at least form a single ice spike that landed pathetically right in front of him before being crushed by those hands.
The one called Hans seemed to enjoy the grisly scene, but for all my hate of Dr. Senpai, I noticed he didn’t seem as comfortable with it and held himself back. It seemed he had a bit more restraint than the other two when it came to fighting and slaughter. Or he might have just been a coward who depended on other people to do his dirty work.
I watched on the screen as Hans held out his hands, an arcane circle of fire appearing in the area in front of the stage, turning it all to cinders as it was engulfed in hellfire, killing some of the lingering participants who hadn’t yet managed to get out of the way, the flames destroying whatever system allowed the televised broadcast from the main auditorium room.
Seriously? I thought as I caught sight of some of the flames. Everyone else has this flashy shit and I get, what? A frosty bat? Wait a minute, maybe I can get something after all.
I grabbed the platinum token I’d been granted as Griswold shook his head. “Really, Dan, you haven’t used that yet? I’d assumed that stupid dazed look earlier was you shopping. Alright, do what you need to; we’ll cover you. Grab something good.”
The Groogs shot each other worried looks that didn’t exactly give me any kind of confidence that they could in fact, provide me any cover, but it was pretty much our only option. I didn’t have the ability to challenge any of them with any kind of confidence, and right now my team needed me to carry them on my back.
I looked at the token, trying to figure out how to use it, and though I asked Lirai what the trick to it was, I got no reply. With a quickness, Griswold ran over, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.” He grabbed my hand, encircling it into a fist and whispered, “Redeem.”
Time itself appeared to stop and I waited for the item shop to make its appearance.
Notification: Error.
Details: The Ability Shop is not available at this time for participant “Edgelord Supreme.” Use of the mobile ability shop requires a minimum magic stat of 8. As you have used your platinum token, you have been granted the only ability available with 1 magic.
Ability: Self-Destruct.
Notification: Ability Acquired - Self-Destruct.
Details: Once this ability has been triggered the user will self-immolate until exploding in a wide area, causing extreme fire damage. A participant who triggers this skill does not pass items, experience, or abilities.
Chapter 31: Victory(ish)
“What did you get for yourself?” I heard Griswold demand with a gruff tone that reminded me every bit of old soldiers in the Army. “A platinum token opens doors that years of grinding can’t. It’s almost priceless what it can do to raise one’s power and potential. Please tell me you didn’t waste it on a basic spell, like Firebolt or Magic Missile. That’s low hanging fruit. Did you go for the Ever-Burning Phoenix Fire? The Impenetrable Armor of the Kraken that gives near perfect defense against all elemental attacks? Maybe the Aura of Regeneration that can keep an army alive and on the move?”
My heart sank. I honestly felt like I was going to be sick. This was exactly how I imagined those guys who lost everything
on the stock market felt. I wasn’t ready to admit anything just yet, so I just shook my head, “Yeah, none of those.”
“Good, good, those are attractive certainly, but not what we need for this. Second page then? Wrath of the Thundergod to rain calamity on your enemies? Avatar of Might to drastically increase your combat abilities? Or even Red Rain to curse and poison foes within an area of effect?”
The more I heard, the worse it got, and all I could do was keep shaking my head as Griswold grew more excited, apparently believing I had held out for some amazing ability. “Hurry up, boy, and tell me the good news. Was it the ability to summon legendary monsters like the King of Dragons, or Holy Purge that finally got your attention? That’s good, that’s really good, we haven’t had any prospects with abilities on that level in decades. So out with it, boy, we’re almost out of time. Which one did you get?”
My mouth went dry, so dry as I stumbled to find an answer. “I didn’t go with any of those.” I finally admitted and the widest smile I’d ever seen spread across Griswold’s face.
“Something beyond King of Dragons and Holy Purge? Dear gods be merciful. What matter of monster might you become, boy? What’s beyond those? Breath of the God King, perhaps? Ethereal Blessings and Divine Creation? Spit it out already, boy!” Griswold was getting impatient and we were running out of time; already the fighting had spread into the hall as other groups started to fight amongst themselves trying to eliminate enough competition to survive the coming of the big three.
The two Groogs looked at each other knowingly, and I knew that they knew Griswold was about to be disappointed. I’ll call it a professional courtesy that they didn’t throw me under the bus at that point and instead bit their tongues, did their job, and laid down the shielding that was keeping us, and by us I mean them, alive while tossing out a bit of suppressing fire to discourage anyone from getting too close.
