"Good luck."

Hudson's words seemed to echo as Juniper started to materialize in another place entirely. As the smoke cleared, Juniper could finally make out some of the features of the room she was in.

"A storage house?"

It did not seem like such, judging from the way the furniture was arranged neatly; small tables facing a larger and slightly elevated desk. Judging from the whiteboard bearing numbers and letters on it, this would seem to be a place where people sat around while one person talked, and demonstrated what they learned on the whiteboard. How strange it was to have a place made specifically for people to brag. Perhaps it was so anyone could have an outlet to brag to without being seen as annoying. That being said, the room didn't seem that well maintained, and from that writing on the whiteboard...

This was a place called a School.

That word carried no meaning for Juniper, but the last part of the message was more important to her than any strange words. Hit the books, and stay clear of the anons. What anon meant was unknown to her, but it could refer to those odd people out there on the grounds. So she was given a hint by someone, someone she did not know, to look for a place with a lot of books while avoiding conflict. After that recent bout of fighting where a giant man smacked her around with a bat, she wasn't too keen on fighting at the moment.

Cautiously, she opened the door to the corridor slowly, looking around for some sort of danger before exiting the room and closing the door carefully behind her.

The corridor itself was darker than the room she was in, and in seemingly much worse condition than the room she was in as well. There was paper strewn everywhere, the walls was cracked in places and stained here and there, but at least it was empty.

For now.

Without any real clue where to go, Juniper simply started walking down the corridor, peering into each room to see if there was a lot of books inside it.

After a short way, the dilapidated corridor turned right and opened up into a wide-open zone. The walkway that lay beyond the aperture served as a sort of bridge across a large, rectangular atrium that overlooked the two floors below. Across the way, back inside the building proper lay a square hall with the doors to various other classrooms and workshops lining its walls. From the bridge itself was an excellent view down the whole atrium, and on the complete opposite end of the area on ground level was an arched entryway that led to a carpeted area. Even from here, an onlooker could see the shelves and the books that filled them.

Yet the library was both so near and so far. Anyone who could stomach the three-floor drop to the bottom could very well incur the malfeasance of the pack of anons strewn around a circle of couches at the floor's center. The alternative, to cross the bridge and navigate another slew of corridors and classes in the hopes of finding stairs down, offered even more unknowns. From here, however, the distant sounds of some kind of scuffle in the direction of the library could give Juniper a guess as to who occupied it.



A hail of lead pounded the entryway of the House of Mirrors. The door and walls sprouted holes in mere seconds, and just as fast the little wooden staircase splintered while its railings flew apart. A good few of Big Big's rounds penetrated all the way through to the interior, shattering a handful of the fair attraction's eponymous looking glasses in a spray of glass and cacophony of sound. Just as sudden as it came, the deadly stream of bullets stopped, and the barrel of the mobster's Tommy Gun smoked as its drum dropped to the ground. With great deliberation, the huge man removed a new drum from inside his expensive brown jacket and attached it. Despite the strength of both his conviction and trigger finger, the skeleton hadn't bitten it. No problem. There was all the time in the world to reduce him to bone meal inside the building into which he'd fled, imaging that he could take the pillar of a man down in a melee.

The nearby drone, which for a minute or two had been dumbly following the huge fellow around, came alive with a jerk. Whether or not Bonesword could hear him, Oren activated the machine's mike and announced, “Looks like things are heating up at the Amusement Mile. Big Big versus Bonesword, throwing down the the House of Mirrors. Can't really cam from in there, but whatever. Knock 'em dead again, champ!”

If the drone had two purple optics rather than one, it might have given a wink, but for now it simply settled for observing the mobster march like a living monument toward the Fungal Knight's hiding place. Oren knew who he rooted for—the man who was at one both amazing and sad, incredible power and potential locked away by a deficient mind. In this situation, Big Big was the underdog, but Oren nevertheless wondered whether it would be the legbreaker or the swordfighter who would emerge from that reflective maze in triumph.



“Looks like we're all here!”

A voice rang out through the plaza in front of the city hall, its owner conspicuously absent. Though she recognized it as the one who'd directed her here, Squishy bore a confused look when she couldn't find the strange metal contraption hovering around anywhere. Without anything to distract her, however, the chaos slime focused on her opponent. He looked human, but nothing about his equipment was familiar to him. Even if she couldn't figure him out, though, she could feel the murderous intent streaming off him. Her kind didn't necessarily need to breathe, but as a force of habit picked up from her friends back at Deadbeat Sky, she took a deep breath anyway. Fighting was not her forte, but if it meant bringing back the great beings, she would do whatever it took.

Beside her, on the fountain's marble rim, was a wooden box. Before Mountain Dew arrived, Squishy had been trying to open it, but hadn't made much in the way of progress aside from nearly crushing one end. Through the cracks, though, a hint of vivid red could be seen. Squishy glanced its way, but at the water past it instead of the box itself. While not one for complex stratagems, she knew her physiology well enough to realize when a potential advantage lay within arm's reach. After that, however, she returned her focus to the quickscoper, and the disembodied voice of the announcer echoed through the area once more.

“Round one,” he called, a certain eagerness in his voice, “Fight!”

"So it'll be this kinda game huh? Good lord I need to shut that announcer guy up."

In a flash, Teller's strategy changed. At the audible clacking of the drone's pincers, Teller flung himself at the elf in a tackle. The two were bowled over onto the floor and the elf seemed surprised as Teller grabbed the knife from where it sat on his chest, slamming it into the elf's shoulder. Feeling confident, and without his helmet's perimeter sensors, Teller failed to notice however the Elf's own gambit. Just as he was opening his mouth to bid his opponent goodbye, he suddenly felt himself flung back and through a table, crashing to the ground. With a grunt, Teller shook his head to clear the daze of impact as he triggered the return of his face plate with a tap onto his wrist pad. Awaiting him was a being of living shadow with a pair of bracers standing over the elf, who was getting up and dusting himself off. However, as the helmet slid into place, Teller's face paled when he saw the demonic warning light pulsing in the corner of his HUD.

"What? That thing is a fucking delta? Shit, this is gonna be hard."

Teller chuckled and sheathed his knife, but was reminded again that he could play games with this opponent as..a storm of small fireballs appeared. Cursing and ducking into a roll, he felt a great heat as his armor absorbed a hit, but the damage seemed superficial, scorch marks and nothing more. In the background, beyond his attention, the suit's system detected battle had been joined and triggered an entry from Teller's own combat playlist. Hastily drawing his rifle, knowing he could take no chances, Teller began to apply pressure and aggressively moved forward, firing a burst from his rifle, sending the elf clumsily behind his bodyguard seeking shelter.

Teller had the initiative now, but his armor pinged new alerts all around him. Glancing to his left and right, he saw tiny..creatures, cackling with glee as they hurled what seemed to be small fireballs at him. Teller quickly moved to dodge with another roll, cursing again as this again took the initiative from him. He had little choice, in here without room to maneuver these things would have him beat. Turning towards the door, Teller charged at full tilt, fireballs licking at his feet as he ran. Extending his shoulder and leaning into the charge, Teller burst through the door, stumbling as the sudden resistance briefly threw him off but recovering before the foes behind him could exploit it. The enemy now had to file through a narrow corridor to reach him, but Teller had no intention of letting them. Grabbing a frag grenade from his armor's chest, he pulled the pin and hurled it into the bar, waiting for the boom.

(Atmosphere)
Big-Big walked through the halls of the house of mirrors only to come up to the mirror maze. He had a slight feeling this was where Bonesword was hiding, and this was further strengthened by the sound of Bonesword's footsteps within the maze. He found his target, and the only question now is where he could be.

Bonesword was currently residing at a corner near the beginning of the maze, his sword drawn and a dead end behind him. He wanted Big-Big to get into a tight spot so the skeleton could remove the one thing his opponent had over him. Range. If this was a battle where any distance was had, the skeleton would be absolutely decimated by that gangster's Thompson, but if he removed the range, the skeleton could provide a strong opponent. Hell, if the skeleton had some more range, then it would be even more equal. Bonesword admitted he wasn't the best shot, but he knew how to use his fair share of guns.

Big-Big was busy walking around the place, trying to find his way around, when he noticed that he was completely lost within the maze. Damn these mirrors, they were impeding his progress to fulfill his boss's mission! It wasn't really much of a second for him to curse the skeleton before he really had to, as the skeleton ran behind Big-Big and brought his sword down into Big's armed hand, causing him quite the bit of pain and loosening the grip on his tommy gun, which Bonesword quickly took and bolted in the opposite direction with.

What on Earth was the skeleton planning now?

Once every competitor had grasped their phylactery, a sputtering noise filled the room. One hand still on her blade, Pithy forced herself to remain still as first sudden, small spurts of white smoke fluttered out from under the platform she stood on. The device quickly gathered strength, and with a hissing sound of escaping air, a curtain of fog fell over her. She barely had time see the same happening to the other contestants before her vision was completely obscured by white.

The single chime of a bell (The whole world is white) cutting through the sputtering fog machines sent a shiver down her spine.

At that moment, Pithy caught sight of a silhouette falling at her feet, but she could do little more than to lift a hand to shield her sight from the sudden explosion of light.

And then, just as quickly, her surroundings faded to black.

Tentatively, Pithy brought her arm down. Rather than the thirty-two podiums and the motley collection of humans and demons, darkness greeted her. High above, the Inquisitional College’s ceiling had been replaced by a sky of roiling clouds. Occasionally, moonlight would stream down from an opening in the clouds, only to be covered again moments later.

Since nothing seemed ready to simply pounce at her, Pithy remained still, blinking owlishly as she waited for her eye to become accustomed to the dark. She concluded that the figure she had seen drop at her feet, what had been responsible for the change of scenery, had been the lantern the young Michael had used to lead her there.

From morning to night in the space of an hour, she reflected. Jumping between realms was horribly disorienting.

As she adjusted to the darkness, she became able to make out the details of her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the yellow-colored ‘H’ painted on the platform she stood on, contrasting heavily against the drab grey of the rooftop she stood on. And it was indeed a rooftop she had been placed on, overlooking a good portion of what Pithy thought to be the city she had seen on the horizon while at the Inquisitional College’s courtyard.

This was a stroke of luck, she realized. Had she found herself anywhere else, her first instinct would have been to reach a place from which she could survey the city. However, she had been saved the effort of finding a vantage spot.

However, there was something that made her hesitate to take immediate advantage of this good fortune. At the four corners of the platform, dark, stolid silhouettes stood, gazing at the night sky with long, barrel-like heads moving back and forth steadily along an arc. She could hear a whirring sound as they moved. As she stared, one of them uttered a beeping sound, and its barrel fixed at a point in the sky. There was a loud rapport, a shriek, and something dark and winged fell from the sky to the ground below. With the threat eliminated, the sentinel resumed its scanning of the horizon.

In her mind, Pithy likened them to the golems and constructs certain wizards would use to protect their workshops, and that sometimes roamed aimlessly around ancient ruins. She suspected that they would see no differences between her and that winged thing were she to cross the sights of their shooters.

While she hesitated, the sound of wings drew closer. Pithy drew her rapier from its sheath as she caught sight of another construct, winged this time, approaching her with something that resembled a purple eye fixed on her. The winged construct stopped some distance away, out of the sentinels’ line of sight, and Pithy finally saw the wooden box affixed to its bottom.

A light shone from it, creating the image of a young man dressed in a similar style as the other members of the College in the air before her. Pithy forced herself to keep a hand away from her temple to nurse an incoming headache as he began to speak to her. It seemed people like this existed in every world.

And he is to be the announcer we were told of, isn’t he? Joy. She imagined similar familiars would be following the other competitors to track their progress as well.

She wordlessly shook her head as the man said his piece and left her to her own devices. Turning to the horizon, she took the chance to study the layout of the city, obscured as it was by the cover of night. Straight below, she could see the numerous buildings that formed this facility. A few them had ‘H’s painted atop them, indicating platforms like the one she stood on. Lights shone from what from a distance looked like tall poles, sending circles of light downwards to light up the path between buildings.

Aggravating as he was, the announcer had given her this place’s name.

Justice Hub, was it? It brought to mind images of prisons and guard barracks. Perhaps this place had once been the seat of this city’s law enforcement force? It seemed much too large, but then so did the city, and she knew little of what threats an alien city would have had to contend with. The smaller buildings surrounding the citadel she stood upon looked largely unfamiliar to her, and without any knowledge as to their purpose, the reasons for their placements escaped her.

Pithy clicked her tongue. In other circumstances, she might have been interested—excited, even—by the prospect of an alien city filled to the brim with magical and technological marvels she had never so much as heard of, but the grim purpose of her visit did much to curb her enthusiasm.

To make matters worse, the one item which she truly wished to study, whose workings might very well give her insights on how to treat her condition, was likely a soul box holding her very essence, something she did not feel at all comfortable tampering with.

Her ignorance could well become a fatal liability.

Once she was satisfied, she stepped down from the platform. She gave the sentinels—turrets, the man had called them, like towers on a castle’s walls—one last wary look, half-expecting them to turn to shoot at her now that she had left them, but they simply continued scanning the skies with their red eyes.

At the other end of the rooftop, two doors faced her, both side by side. Though she could only truly describe the first one as a door, with a caricature of stairs and a sign reading ‘EXIT’ in bright red letters above it.

The second she thought of as a double door only by association, as it had no knobs nor hinges on which to turn when she pushed against it. Noticing a small button at its side, she gave it an experimental push. It lit from within with white light, but nothing else of note seemed to happen. Frowning, Pithy removed her cowl and pressed an ear close to the doors. Sounds of groaning metal greeted her, but they told her precious little. Just as she pulled away to try the labeled door, there was a ding, and the double-doors sheathed themselves into the walls, revealing a small, empty square room illuminated by pale light.

Pithy merely stared at the room, puzzled as to why the doors would lead to such an obvious dead end. After a moment, the doors closed themselves on their own. Surprised, Pithy pressed the button again, and the doors opened again, without delay this time.

“Ah.” An elevator. The delay could be explained by the platform traveling to get there. She had seen hand and pully operated ones in construction and mining jobs, and once or twice she had come across enchanted, floating platforms, but this metal cage was a first for her. The door began to close again, and this time she allowed it. Strange as the contraption was, she would rather not sit inside any steel cages she found in an alien city.

She turned to the safer choice and opened the door with the signs. Pithy started as the same pale light suddenly illuminated a flight of stairs going down, but when nothing else seemed to happen, she began her descent. The flying familiar, which had until that moment been hovering some distance away, simply remained outside once she ventured into the building.

Pithy glanced thoughtfully at the glass-like objects emanating light as she walked. Rooms illuminating whenever she entered them would make her position obvious, particularly if those rooms had windows. She considered destroying the lights, but quickly decided against it. She would need a way to see one way or another, and she preferred not to leave an obvious trail of broken glass for others to follow.

By the time she came to the first door, she knew she had walked down several levels of the building. It struck her as strange, but she could hardly ask the architect about it. She paused at the door, considering her options, then opened it. It would not hurt to explore this facility. Truth be told, until she found leads regarding her enemy’s location, the best she could do was to avoid exposed places from which she might be ambushed.

We were told to wait before initiating combat, but… What they needed was to gather souls, not provide a show. If she could not trust herself not to jump at the chance of an ambush, she could not trust the others not to do the same. It was as simple as that.

The door led to a straight corridor, which lit up with that same, pale light when Pithy stepped forward. Several doors framed the hallway on each side, most with numbers, a few with names to go with them. A short distance away, she saw the metallic sliding doors of what she was now certain was an elevator.

With mild curiosity, Pithy began to try the doors on this floor. With discouraging results. Locked. Locked. Locked. Locked.

The fifth door opened, but the moment light streamed into the room from the hallway, an outraged screech came from within, followed by the sounds of several flapping wings. Pithy could barely see the outline of sharp talons against the backdrop of an open window before she slammed the door shut. She heard another set of shrieks as the black creatures crashed against the door, but after a few moments of frantic fluttering and scratching noises, silence returned.

Mercifully, her next few attempts did not reward her search with a flock of bat monstrosities, but neither would they open. Pithy fought against the urge to tear the doors down using her magic. She had no idea if doing so would trigger wards or other security mechanisms, and neither was she particularly eager to find out.

Fortunately, the next attempt succeeded. When Pithy grabbed the handle, the door simply creaked inwards before she could turn it. She paused to look at the nameplate fixed below the room number. It read ‘Lt. Desmond Kessler.’

Lock must have broken. When no piercing screeches broke the silence, Pithy walked into the room.

Unlike the stairway and hallway before, no light came on when she walked into this room, leaving only the light streaming in from the hallway outside to illuminate it. There was a desk inside, with a few devices she did not recognize facing towards a chair. Portfolios, too many to go through, were piled along the walls in bookshelves.

Seeing the glass window at the other end of the room, Pithy closed the door behind her, shrouding the room in darkness.

Half-navigating the place through memory, half-feeling her way around the desk, she approached the window and peered down to the other buildings. There were no lights at their windows, and she could see nothing moving on the ground. She caught sight of the announcer’s familiar hovering outside, its purple eye seeming to stare right at her even in the room’s darkness, and she found herself wishing she had smashed the construct when she had first seen it. She could only hope the construct would give her leads as to her opponent’s location.

Confirming that, for the moment at least, things seemed relatively calm outside, Pithy turned her attention to the room itself. Perhaps she could glean some information regarding the turrets, or the purpose of this place.

The runes inside her rapier’s guard, still at hand since the moment she had caught sight of the familiar in the roof, glowed. Pithy felt the familiar resistance—patterns in the magic locking and becoming rigid—as she tried to shape a spell outside of her aspect. For something this simple, it mattered little. A mote of light appeared at the weapon’s tip, then hovered above the desk, bathing the room in a faint light.

Pithy approached the desk, giving the plastic devices a curious look. From this side, she could see that one of them, a flat, upright rectangle, had a film of what seemed like glass at its front. It had a button with a blue pulsing light on it, but pressing it once merely turned off the light, and pressing it again made the pulsing start over. There were several notes stuck to its corners with adhesive paper, written on in small, sharp penmanship.

She pulled on one, bringing it closer to the magelight to read and ignoring the cold emanating from it.

‘Reminder: Mag B-day on Thursday. Buy gift.’

Pithy let out a small snort. The fact that she was still capable of understanding the language despite being in a different realm was nothing short of miraculous, and yet here she was, reading someone’s shopping list. She pulled out a new one.

‘Door broke. Have Terry bring in a locksmith.’

And another.

‘Lost new hire at entrance to Hi-Clear area. Suggest change to automatic security protocol.’

Pithy frowned at that. Automatic security likely referred to turrets like those at the rooftop. If they had killed people despite them working at this facility, it did not bode well to what they might do if she ran afoul of them.

Leaving the notes alone for the time being, she focused on the other devices on the desk. The rectangular apparatus in front of the first had several more buttons, all with characters imprinted on them. She gave them a few experimental taps, but the machine did little that she could see. The last device, which seemed fit to hold in one hand, had two buttons and a wheel between them. They made a clicking noise when he pressed on them, but little else. She had a feeling they were supposed to work in tandem, but as long as she failed to activate the machine, there was precious little she could learn about them.

Puzzled, Pithy followed the cables, eventually kneeling before a large, rectangular box. Numerous cables were attached to its back, and on its front, she could see a few more buttons. She zeroed in on the one with the circle cut by a small line at the top. It was the same symbol as the one on the glass box’s button.

She pressed it, then started as a whirring noise came from inside the device. She stood up and realized light was coming from the glass box. Words and images began to appear on the screen, along with a small bar with a percentage number atop it.

After a moment, the screen went blank, then was quickly replaced by a simple blue background with the words ‘Choose a user.’ Under the words, there was a single entry under a small picture of a middle-aged man. It read ‘Kessler.’ Below it, in smaller letters, she could read ‘Change User’.

Pithy’s first instinct was to touch the name where it appeared on the glass, but the screen did not seem meant to take inputs. Her next thought was to write the name on the rectangular device, but nothing happened either.

Frowning, she grabbed the smaller device. She noted with some bemusement that a white blur flashed along the screen, and, after some searching, saw a small white arrowhead hugging the edge of the glass. Turning the device, she saw a hole from which a red light was shining. She pressed a finger on it, and noticed the arrow shift slightly. With a flash of insight, Pithy pressed the device against the table and nudged it. This time, the arrow followed the motion until it rested atop of the image. A darker blue highlight surrounded it, and Pithy felt a swell of triumph.

Pithy pressed on both clickers at once, and new text entered the screen.

‘Please enter your password.’

Pithy’s spirits fell. She moved the clicker arrow to the white area and clicked on it. A small bar began to appear intermittently, as though waiting for input. Pithy frowned and glanced at the character box. Very slowly, making sure she pressed the right buttons, she spelled the name ‘Kessler’. When she looked at the glass box, she was somewhat surprised to see the dots that had appeared, one for each character.

A part of her at the back of her mind was delighted by this. It’s to keep others from seeing what you write.

She experimentally clicked the arrow next to the white field, and a circular symbol took the place of the words, spinning in place. After a moment, the circle disappeared, replaced by the ‘Please enter your password’ text. This time, below the white field, were the words ‘Incorrect Password’ in an angry red.

Interest piqued, Pithy began to go over the notes adhered to the glass box, but nothing on them immediately hinted at a password.

She knelt before the desk, pulling open one of its drawers. More portfolios. Too much to go through. Closing it with little more than a cursory inspection, she peered at the drawer on top of that. A glass bottle of something that could be nothing more than expensive alcohol, and a small packet which smelled of tobacco when she brought it to her nose.

Slowly, it was dawning on her that rather than being abandoned, this place felt like its occupants had been present up until a day before Pithy arrived, and then vanished overnight. She looked up to the top of the table and swept a gloved finger over it. It left no tracks. No dust. Is someone keeping this place clean?

She shook her head. Such thoughts were not immediately relevant. She stood, hooking her hands under the drawer under the desk, and pulled it open.

Pithy sucked a breath at the sight that greeted her, her search for the password all but forgotten. In hindsight, it was not particularly strange for this Lt. Kessler to keep a weapon in his workplace. Resting within the drawer was a shooter, similar to those he had seen some of the competitors carry. She reached down and grasped the wooden grip with one hand, feeling the polished, metallic surface of its long barrel with the other.

She remembered the accuracy with which the turret in the roof had killed the careless bat, and realized that, if this world’s shooters could be so reliable, she might benefit from carrying one. Still, she knew enough from the ugly, clunky shooters of her world that she would need ammunition for it to be useful.

She followed the length of the barrel to a cylinder at the contraption’s middle, and pushed a finger against it. The cylinder rolled in place, and she could see the empty grooves where projectiles would go. She placed her finger on the trigger, as she would have with a crossbow, and pointed the weapon at the wall. She pulled. The metal projection at the back of the weapon pulled back. The cylinder turned slightly to chamber a new projectile. And the metal projection hammered back down.

Click.

Fortunately, the drawer had held more than the shooter. From within, she pulled out a harness with a sheath for the weapon and a heavy pouch. Opening the latter revealed over a dozen of the expected projectiles, all roughly the size of her little finger.

She fiddled with it until the cylinder swiveled to the side, then loaded the projectiles into the weapon. Reinserting the cylinder came with a satisfying clicking sound.

That dealt with, Pithy turned to the harness. She thought she knew the way of it. Removing her cloak, Pithy wrapped the straps around herself, tightening and slackening them where she could to make up for the obvious size differences between herself and its previous owner. Once she was finished, she pushed the shooter into its sheathe under her right arm. She supposed the good Lieutenant must have been left-handed.

As Pithy put her robes over her shoulders, a sudden rapport sounded from outside. At first, Pithy dismissed it as the turrets on the ceiling firing at the bats, but as a second and then a third boom joined the first one, Pithy looked out the window.

A good ways below, she spotted the purple glare of the flying familiar’s eye hiding at the edge of one of the buildings below, as though trying to peek around the corner. She hummed. She had been told she would hear her enemy before she saw them.

Pithy took a slow breath, a wispy cloud of vapor escaping her lips. For the first time, she realized how cold the room had gotten.

Pithy strode out, dismissing the magelight as she went. The door opened as easily as it had the first time.

The fog cleared and revealed a dense wood bathed in the purple light of twilight, towering trees reaching towards the sky, the sounds of of Cicada, and other, bigger things, could be heard throughout the dimly lit woods. Sophia immediately moved into cover of one of the large trees and began to scan the area before a voice spoke from her chest

_{“Hey! I'm getting interference, ya mind pulling me out?”}

“voices? Again? Curse this damn haunted machine”

She found a well hidden area before removing her helmet and pulling out the heart shaped machine again and listened to his rambling speech.

Apparently the Crucible had an announcer and round based prizes? This sounded a lot less like a science experiment and more like a blood sport. Where they broadcast this? If this was actually some kind of massive summoning circle or reality tv show she was going to burn that old hag at the stake.

“Just contact me via my coms if you need to say something next time”

Anyway there was word of a supply cache, so she replaced her phylactery and helm and then clambered up the nearest tree to get a higher viewpoint. With the densely packed foliage using the jetpack was not really an option without setting the forest ablaze, also it would be a good Idea to find out what the cache had before alerting her foe to her location.

---

Whoever had set this had made it with her in mind, a complete set of spare ammunition for her 3 firearms, a tank of promethium for her jetpack and flamer and as an added bonus some medical supplies. Looking at the size of the massive tree dungeon, she was going to need every bit of it.

Speaking of said tree, Sophia climbed on top of the rock and examined the living fortification. The entrance was a heavily fortified if more traditional wooden fort built around a busy entrance door crafted from the living wood of the vast tree. A small number of strange centaur like guards manned the walls, marching to and fro armed with spears. Above was the trunk of the tree itself into which walkways and tunnels had been carved, up there large glowing bugs flitted about more centaurs transported things to and fro.

“Disgusting. I shall rid this land of these foul creatures”
_{”and you're going to do this how?”}

Sophia made her way towards the front entrance, casually walking towards the gateway while drawing her flamer. The skittering Myrmidons atop the wall took notice, scrambling up the walls to face the intruder, raising their javelins they hurled them in unison at the foolish loan adventurer. Sophia grind behind the Adamantium helmet as she launched herself to the skies, an angel of death ascending on burning wings, the spears thudding into the earth below her. Pointing her flame pistol at the bugs, she pulled the trigger and begun to sing.

“Blessed Emperor, I sing and fight in your name”
_{”for fuck sake”}

The guards are overwhelmed by the flames in an instant as she reaches the top of her burning leap, tumbling from the battlements as their stunned comrades raise their compound eyes to gaze at the incoming Seraphim.

“Your enemies shall all burn in my holy flame”
_{”you're just going to storm the front and try to personally kill every last bug in that thing aren't you”}

She quickly draws a bolt pistol and with a thunderous roar it sends its massive shells raining down on the bugs below, the fist sized shells punching through the chitinous plating of the Myrmidons and then detonating inside their soft flesh, leaving blood soaked crater like wounds in the chittering bugs and dropping them in an instant.

“This place I shall cleanse of these xenos blight”
_{”you have nowhere enough firepower”}

She puts away the falmer and performs a super hero landing, raising her eyes to watch the pathetic remnants of the outer guard scurry towards the entrance.

“We are humanity and all worlds are our birthright”
_{”This is true”}

She chases after them on foot, booting open the door and sprinting inside, with both hand cannons drawn she runs down a corridor that leads to a relatively small circular room

“for I know in my hear that the words of the ecclesiarchy are true!”
_{”They aren't”}

A gate slams shut behind her, sealing her inside and plunged the room into darkness. For a moment there's silence, then the room is lit by 20 or more Lambents that have emerged from holes in the ceiling, their glowing abdomens reveal in front of her a huge Phalanx of Myrmidons and behind her guarding the entrance 6 hulking Antlions have emerged from their hiding spaces in the walls. The true first line of defence was a well set up kill box, heming the attacks in with a wall of spears, driving them back towards the crushing jaws of the Antlions while bombarding them with napalm.

“In the name of the Emperor, I'll purge you!”
_{”it’s moon and punish. Good luck, Try not to die.”}

---

About 3 minutes, two hymes and about half her ammunition later Sophia came running back out of the base of the tree, her armor covered in ichore, soot and sap, with giant insects hounding her. She launches to the sky, turns round and blasts 4 that tried chase after her even after she left the wall enclosure. The rest wave their spears, chirping in victory at the retreating Seraphim, then rush back inside to engage in firefighting, the use of napalm launching bugs inside a tree perhaps not the best idea for structural integrity. Sophia had shot, burned and kicked her way through about half the chamber before realizing that the amount of supplies she had would never let her get up Emperor knows how many floors ₃₂. So she had fought her way back out of the kill box and was now retreating to resupply and make a better plan.

---

Having stocked up on ammo the store still held about half her carrying supply of munitions but almost an entire tank worth of promethium, as the fight inside having left little room for flight. Sophia stat atop the rock, gazing up, the tree reflected in her visor as she considered her options and what supplies remained. Really she only needed to kill the queen and retrieve the item, but she refused to leave this tower of horrors standing. She was idly flicking the pilot light of the flamer on and off as she gazed upward, it too reflected in her visor, when she had an idea. A wonderful, wonderful idea. Gathering a few extra supplies she walked round to the other side of the tree from the actual entrance.

_{you're definitely going to need help to pull this off you crazy nun}

---

Her preparations complete Sophia ascended up the tree, scanning the trunk with her thermal vision and spied several incredibly hot areas, perhaps important well occupied rooms, generators or incubators. She imagined that the biggest _highest highest one would be near the throne room and so Sophia jetted/climbed towards it, making sure to avoid any patrols by sticking to the un-walkway strewn areas and hiding in the nooks and crevices of the tree if anything came near. Having arrived she then drew one of her chain knives and used the whirring blade to slice a circle into the trees bark, about the size of herself. Finally she flew a little way back, put away the knife and rammed the weekend area with a shoulder charge, bursting into the spawning room in a hail of splinters. Combat rolling on the floor into a crouched position she drew her pistols and silenced the workers inside with a few lethal shots.

After prepping her escape route she headed into the hive proper, reaching a junction with 5 exits, she pondered for a moment which too take _{second on the left}. Taking the second exit on the left she walked down a wide hallway and emerge into some kind of gladiatorial arena carved from the tree’s flesh. There was a large circular pit into which her corridor had emerged, its walls were tall, mounted with spikes and with several sturdy gates lead inside from other directions. Directly opposite the entrance and up on the wall of the arena where the VIP booth might be found, behind a thick yet semi translucent wall of amber, was a throne made of the weapons and armor of dead adventurers.

The metal and gem encrusted seat dwarfed its singular occupant who was currently trying to find a place for the crippled drone and it’s accompanying treasure. She was strangely humanoid, yet this only made her insectile nature more abhorrent in Sophia's eyes. The woman was taken a little by surprise by Sophia's arrival, but recovered quickly, and in an unflappable tone simply said.

”I thought you got turned away by the first challenge. I am glad you somehow made it, I have many new creations to test against a stubborn intruder like you.”

Once again a gate slammed shut behind The Seraphim. As the battle was about to begin the drone’s speaker crackled to life.

Reaching the end of the corridor, she came out on an open area, standing on the third floor.

There was a bridge in the middle, the sort where she half expected for one of the larger gangsters from her world to jump on to have a mano e mano fight with her. It was odd and a bit disturbing to not have a whole lot of gangs roaming around trying to ambush her. It was akin to having to seeing and dodging tigers in a specific place your whole life, but then having those tigers being gone from that spot. There was a sense of paranoia that started to creep in, along with the ever nagging question of 'what if'. What if they kick down that door and hit her in the back? What if they bust down from the ceiling and kick her in the head? What if they break through the floor and proceed to bite her legs?

It didn't matter for now, for she could see a whole lot of books on the ground floor, in a room just after the group of anons milling about down there.

What sort of hint would she get there? It was a slim chance, but hopefully it was about what the wish machine was, and how it functioned. Or perhaps, a way to win without actually killing her opponents. If the machine consumed souls in exchange for a wish, then she would have to destroy it utterly and refuse the tournament. Not the first time the world seemed out to destroy her after all, nor the first time the bearers of the God Hands faced seemingly impossible odds. But for now, all she needed to do first, was get to that room full of books.

"Nothing's ever easy for me, huh?"

Without hesitation, she dropped down from the third floor, landing gracefully on the ground floor, amidst a group of those so called anons.

"My, it is such a wonderful day, isn't it? I hope you don't mind me dropping in."

Juniper walked nonchalantly forwards with a soft smile on her scarred face, heading towards the room with books. While she looked as carefree as can be, her muscles were tensed and ready to spring into action when needed.

Pithy did not bother sweeping the rest of the floors, instead following the staircase down to the ground level.

The stairs led out to what seemed to Pithy to be a large receiving area. There was a long, oval desk with machines much like the glass box she had encountered above, and hallways led out to the right and left of it, both reading ‘UNDERGROUND ACCESS FOR PERSONNEL ONLY’. She thought she could see the glare of red eyes from deeper inside.

More pertinent to her situation, there was a set of double doors at the opposite end of the room, with the same ‘EXIT’ sign she had seen on the rooftop hanging from above it.

Pithy began to walk forward, rapier in hand and eye darting to and fro, scanning for turrets she might have missed. She reached the entrance without incident, and pushed it open with her free hand.

The night air greeted her

Pithy couldn’t help but to feel a measure of relief at being outside the strange building. The walls and ceiling may have provided cover from threats, but the lack of life beyond black-winged monstrosities and the uncertainty that she might accidentally trigger some kind of alarm or defense system in her search had never left the back of her mind.

Her current surroundings were no less strange, but at least they were improved by a clear view of the sky above.

As she had seen from the rooftop, large poles were placed along the path, evenly spaced from on another. Focus lights were attached to them, sending light streaming down in wide beams that illuminated the way from building to building, but here and there, intermittently between poles along the sides of buildings and within the alleys between each facility, the dark remained deep enough that she feared someone might be staring straight at her.

She considered stepping out from the illuminated path so her eyes could adjust to the darkness, but the fluttering of wings and sudden, shifting movements in the darkness dissuaded her. She noted that bloodied corpses of the dark, winged things had begun to accumulate on the illuminated path before the entrance—no doubt the work of the turrets in the rooftop. Less than she expected, however.

The dark trails leading into the dark told her all she needed to know. It seemed the local wildlife would not waste a free meal no matter the source.

She wondered if that had been the intended purpose of these lights, to keep these animals from harassing those who worked here as they went from building to building, but that assumed the beasts had been present while this place was staffed. Something in her gut told her they were a more recent addition.

Pithy began to walk down the illuminated path, sticking close to the sides of the building and keeping an eye for obstacles she might use as cover in case something began shooting at her. The light made her feel horribly exposed, but she instinctively understood that the bats would not come for her in the light unless she provoked them. At least the thunderous sounds coming from up ahead led her to believe the enemy was not yet laying in ambush for her.

Along the way, Pithy saw signs of break-ins to some of the Justice hubs adjacent buildings. One of them had a pair of turrets flanking a door, both with their barrels drooping to the ground, sparks jumping from where their red eyes should have been. The door itself had had its lock smashed, and judging by the sonorous cracks she kept hearing, she had a good idea of what could have wrought this damage.

Without bothering to investigate the building, Pithy carried on towards the sound. Soon enough, she caught sight of what she had been looking for. The announcer’s flying familiar was there, seeming to peer around a building’s corner to where the peals of thunder were coming from. Now, however, they were accompanied by the sound of fluttering wings, screeches, and challenging, vociferous screams.

“You’ll never catch me alive, you honky mahfahs!”

BLAM BLAM BLAM.

Pithy sidled out of the light to the wall below the familiar, glad that the bats’ attention was elsewhere. She did not know whether to blame that on the commotion ahead, or on the fact that they seemed to actively avoid the familiar flying above her. At this point, they must have known better than to carelessly approach the metal constructs.

She peered around the corner to see a baffling sight.

Standing atop a four-wheeled, open metal carriage, a small, dark-furred creature aimed a pair of decorated shooters similar in shape to the one she had found at a dispersing cloud of outraged black wings. BLAM. Another bat fell to the ground to join a dozen other corpses.

“I ain’t nobody’s food!”

The delectable morsel that was the shooter-toting honeybadger must have been tempting enough for the bats to attempt nabbing her from the illuminated path, but the feisty little creature would not be taken so easily.

Pithy grunted ill-humoredly from her hiding place. She had seen the creature among the contestants, but had honestly hoped dealing with the ridiculous thing would fall to another.

As the bats began to flee from this absurdly dangerous prey, the little honeybadger comically waved her shooters at the retreating swarm with her tiny arms and indignant air.

“Yeah you better run! Flying rats!”

The flying familiar took that moment to peer out of the corner, and quickly ducked back under cover as a shot chipped the wall right in front of it. The sudden crack close to her head made Pithy start, and she drew back into cover, but the sudden motion was not lost on the feisty animal.

The honeybadger laughed. “Don’t think you can hide, girl. I see yo’ skinny ass back there.”

Pressed to her cover, Pithy scowled. This day (night) had already fallen well outside of the norm, but she could be excused for not expecting it to begin by being pinned behind a wall by an angry weasel with a hat and a pair of six-shooters.

The appearance of the smoke did not bother Lily in and of itself. They had already used a storm to transport them between Realms, so what more was a bit of smoke?

Even then, however, she didn't know exactly what was going to happen, so she adopted a more defensive stance, flexing her fingers with erect ears and undulating tails. And that was when it happened. The sound of air rushing by something moving quickly, came from behind her without warning. She whirled around ready to electrocute whoever it was that was attacking her, only to just catch a glimpse of Guðrún's frightened expression before the Lantern shattered at her feet and Lily disappeared.

---

The lightning bolt struck the railing with an audible Zap, singeing a portion of the metal black. Sparks still jumped between her fingers for several more moments before she finally managed to calm herself down. She lowered her hand back to her side, breathing deeply to calm her nerves.

Of course they had to send them off with a fanfare like that. Why could they not just have done it seamlessly? A fraction of a second later and Lily might have killed someone innocent. And if there was one thing she would not stand for, it was the murder of innocents. If anything that was what ten years of war had taught her: Leave the innocents alone.

She took a final deep breath and started to look around. She stood on what could be called the sort of balcony, with a set of stairs on her left leading up, and a door behind her. She couldn't quite determine the function of the building, but she was but it was not living quarters of any description. Beyond the guard railing in front of her was a metropolis; towering skyscrapers, monolithic apartment buildings, and lights everywhere. It was impressive in a way only possible through sheer size, foregoing interesting and aesthetically pleasing designs in favour of bulk and mass. Still, it was impressive but not the kind of thing that Lily valued.

She was about to turn around when the whirring sound of small motors caught her attention. A small drone with something akin to a tiny television strapped to the bottom of it, rose up from beneath the balcony she stood upon. It had no visible weapons so Lily relaxed, waiting to see what it would do. She was not surprised as, in short order, a holographic image of a man appeared on the screen. 'Oren,' as he called himself, was an aggravating individual it seemed. Too energetic and fully under the illusion that he was funny. She allowed him to speak and kindly ignored his crude attempt at a joke about her tails.

So her opponent was nearby? Relatively speaking anyway. That meant that he or she would most likely be found inside, a place with many hiding spaces and more than a few opportunities for misdirection. The perfect place for someone like Lily to fight. But she still needed to know as much about the building as possible, and heading inside now might only results in her getting lost. So she turned to the stairs and started climbing them. The stars turned out to simply circle the exterior of the building, which in turn also gave her a better idea of the purpose of the building. The higher she climbed, the more she saw, which in the end made her realise the best was a power plant of some sort.

Primitive, Lily thought, snorting derisively. Back home we got rid of this kind of of polluting trash centuries ago. What would the dryads say if they saw this? Nevermind that dryads, Cernunnos and Terra would be furious. She continued further up until she reached the Peak. Or rather, peaks. The "Silo", as it appeared to be one, ended in a pair of twin peaks, essentially splitting down the middle once you reached the top and continued to taper further, individually. It also offered the opportunity of a better view of the entire complex.

Far more than one building, she saw now, crisscrossed by massive pipes and dotted with smaller silos and tanks. It might have once been as impressive as the rest of the vicinity, had it only not been so run down. As it was rust dominated. Having become this experience and sight richer, Lily shows to head down the stairs once more and start exploring the Silo she had appeared on.

---

The inside was about as industrial looking as she would have expected: Garish and ugly, mottled brown and greys started with rust on far too many surfaces. A yellow light illuminated in the room she stepped into, in no way helping with making the place any more welcoming. Who ever had designed this room had had in mind solely function. It was a room filled with pipes and dials, various metres that Lily had no frame of reference for. Essentially everything in the here was as alien to her as she must be to some of the other competitors.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the drone with the small screen strapped to its bottom side hovering just outside the door, its one purple "eye" focused on her. He had mentioned that he would be her guide, but to what extent? Was he supposed to simply supervise or could he also be used as a source of information? There's only really one way to find out, she thought to herself, and turned fully around to face it.

"Oren!" she called, fully expecting equipment from a college capable of teleportation, to also be more than sufficient to pick up a voice from a distance. "You said you would be my guide. So guide me. I have some questions I would like answered."

A few seconds passed before the telltale whirl of fans carried on the breeze made its way to Inari's prominent ears. In no time, the drone popped over the edge of the Fuel Plant, its display already active. "What it is, Fluffybutt! Speak of the devil, and he will appear. Doncha think it's a bit...kit-'soon' to be asking for help, though? Neheheh!" Oren rested one hand over his other's knuckles, holding them in front of his chin. Even with eyes that appeared completely shut, his was an intent gaze.

"I'm not asking for help, but information. That lady, just before we were sent off to our individual positions, she mentioned a way to extract the soul of opponent without killing them. I want to know how."

A slight furrow of Oren's brow did not compromise his merry demeanor, though it did give his genial grin an edge of bemusement. "Well, that's awfully nice of you given the sneak preview you got of all this tournament's freakazoids -one of which I informed of your general whereabouts roughly twenty-five seconds ago, by the way- but what makes you think I know how those little hearts work?"

Lily was getting tired have the Clown's dodging the question. The frown on her face did compromise her merry demeanor... Had there been one, at any rate. She was about to start demanding proper answers when he started speaking again.

The bespectacled commentator gave a shrug, a chuckle, and a placating gesture. "Well, I do, of course. The artifacts in this place really are amazing! Tell me: ever seen a mosquito feed? Little bastards just can't get enough of sticking their little pokers in people's skin and sucking out their good stuff. Of course, contrary to what ya might expect, the one getting sucked is never happy about it. Guess you could say it really 'bugs' 'em! Neheheh. Good luck, Fluffer!"

And with that the screen turned off and returned once more to Black. At least she was rid of his ceaseless jokes. Nevertheless he had given her a very important clue. The phylactery out from under her shirt and looked it over. Barely an inch in length, constructed of rubber and metal, it was a strange, small contraction. Not like anything she had ever seen, and as someone who lived in a world where all manner of creatures, both wonderful and horrifying lived, that meant a fair deal. Near where the chain connected the the thing itself she noticed and number of small protrusions, much like needles or syringes, except there was no holes to speak of. Then again, if stabbing her opponents phylactery then she supposed that it could be something ethereal, and not physical. Sort of like electricity, perhaps?

She stuffed the thing back under her shirt, its weight against her breast much smaller now that she knew she did not have to kill to effectively win a round. The only question left, then, what what would happen to the who had their soul taken? Lily knew that she left an empty, lifeless shell back when she did it that one time, but the lady had explicitly said that the soul would be taken without killing. That must mean that it definitely did not take the life if you ever lost their soul. She had to wonder what else did happen, because something like that could not happen without some changes to the person.

But that was a question for whenever she had to try it. Oren had mentioned that he had informed her opponent, of her general whereabouts. A fight would happen soon then, so she had to be alert. This room however wasn't quite to her preferences. She hoped the next room did.

She strode through the room and opened the door on the other side, coming into a cavernous room filled with pipes and machines and walkways, and so many potential hiding spaces, corners or pipes that could momentarily break line of sight. She felt a tiny smile tug at the corners of her lips. This place was ideal. Thiswas where she would stand her ground.

She stepped out of the way of the door and bent the light around her, rendering her invisible. Now all she had to do was wait.

In the space of a moment, what had been shaping up to be an ordinary encounter transformed into a standoff between the badger and the elf. Neither party, having little to no knowledge about the other's capabilities, seemed eager to throw herself at her opponent. It fell to Oren, then, to break the ice. From a perfect position to view the proceedings, a voice blared down, “So, who will it be? Will the fearsome sharpshooter incinerate her opponent in this firefight? Or will the coming winter spell an early hibernation for our intrepid little badger? Oh, I can hardly wait!” Grinning wildly, the announcer pumped a fist. “Alright, ladies. Fire at will!”



At first, the anons scattered across the first floor lobby did no more than stare. With empty red eyes they watched, blinking every so often, some more regularly as if in disbelief. With methodical slowness, however, they began to rise. They put away their phones, tossed away their books, got up off their couches where they lay and pushed off the walls where they leaned. A kind of whisper filled the air—a steady and suspicious murmur shared beneath the strange creatures, too low and colloquial to be deciphered but with an unmistakably derisive tone. A tall one, sporting a bandanna, hung back with its hands in its pockets, but the others closed in on the maiden who'd so suddenly interjected herself into their midst. Bottles appeared in their hands, or brass knuckles, or even cudgels. With the coordinated and threatening silence of those resolute to do their business, the first four ran forward to attack all at once. Two swung overhead, while one went for a straight lunge, and the largest attempted a tackle.



The by-now familiar and somewhat gratingly upbeat voice of the announcer burst forth, not from the defunct drone, but from the phylactery that Clotho wore strung around her right forearm. Though garbled by the lesser-quality communications device, it managed to reach both the dungeon keeper and the airborne infantry. “So here we are, ready to rumble. Before we 'tree'-t ourselves to a lively, high-flying match, I have just one question. Clotho!”

Unfazed by Oren's attitude, Clotho replied, “Yes, I'm Clotho.”

“Did you like your item?”

After staring at Sophia for an unblinking moment, Clotho held out her left hand and opened it to reveal something clutched in the palm. Though difficult to make out from the distance, it appeared to be a transparent except for two tiny capsules within—one red, and one blue. From behind her mask, the keeper gave a hollow reply. ”Not at all. They appear to be consumables, but I can't tell what they do.” After executing a slight, nonplussed shrug, she tossed the Blister Pack toward Sophia. It skittered across the dry, fibrous floor, making next to no noise thanks to its negligible weight. ”Have one if you want. I would not mind seeing the effects.” Rising from her seat, Clotho let the mangled drone slip from her fingertips, and it clattered against the throne as it fell. Her hand fell upon a hilt jutting out of the elaborate, macabre chair, and with a yank the flame-bladed sword came free. Behind her, her wings spread out, their iridescent patterns of orange and green glimmering in the dappled light.

Oren, ever the keen observer, picked up on the general intent and laughed, “So much for gaming the system! Well, if you're eager for a fight—“

”I'm not,” Clotho cut in, though quietly enough so that the announcer simply steamrolled over her.

“...far be it from me to stop you—“

”You couldn't.”

“...so let's get this match underway! I'll have my backup drone over in a jiffy to cam the whole thing. Uh, I mean spectate. Ready?”

”Isn't this a bit sudden?”

“Go!”

Clotho gave an sigh that was audible even through her half-mask. She ran her fingers along the edge of her wavy blade. ”I do not enjoy fighting. It's pointless. Boring. But now that I'm here, you should know I won't lose to anybody.” Her sword went up into a couched stance on the left side of her head, ready to thrust or parry. Even more prepared were the muscles in her wings and legs, ready to speed out of harm's way. She needed only to raise her voice to summon reinforcements to help. The first move of this dance belonged to Sophia.



Sensitive ears made for good hearing, and faint and vague though it was, the sound of Lily's opponent reached her not long before her opponent did. Her first true sense of the 'freakazoid' sent her way, however, came in the form of a very sudden, very loud bang against a doorway on the other side of the room. The entire labyrinthine room of metal resonated with the impact for a moment, and before another passed, a second crash followed on its heels. This time, the metal door parted ways with its hinges with a violent tearing sound to slam noisily against the floor. Into the room plodded nothing less than a shark with mechanical arms, legs, and weaponry, wearing an anticipatory smirk and followed by Oren's drone.

A few seconds of silence passed as the hammerhead craned his thick neck looking around the room, but he turned up nothing. In a gruff, thuggish rumble, the voicebox implanted in his jaw demanded of the drone, “Ey, I t'ought you said she'd be 'ere. Ya sure she ain't at the top, like you said in the first place?”

Oren's voice came calm and assured in reply. “If my sensors say she moved, she moved. And they say she's in this room, probably hiding. I'm gonna go ahead and call it.”

Brucie gave a grunt in reply, hoisting his cannon-laden right arm into ready position, and Oren raised his drone's volume to shout out, “I know you can hear me, Fluffer! And I know you can see ol' Brucie here. The way I see it, everyone's here, so 'water' we waiting for?”

The shark's voicebox gave a rough, thuggish sound that could have been raucous laughter. “Geghegheghegh! Anudda ten outta ten, my man!” Brucie's left arm rose and delivered to that of Oren's drone a good-spirited high-five.

“I know, right? But killer puns aren't gonna turn ya human! Start the show!” The pincers of the drone's arm, once out of the vicinity of Brucie's, slammed together in a loud noise to signal the fight's commencement.



“Huh?”

Unprompted, a sound of consternation spurted from the drone in the air above the amphitheater. According to Oren's intel, two additional competitors had been slated to appear within the structure in order to immediately begin their fight, but all his machine's optic could discern from its current bird's eye view was a single woman, armed to the teeth, but no less alone. Oren, having other fights to switch his focus to, had left this particular surveillance drone alone for almost five minutes, only to switch back in confusion after the automatic sensors failed to give an indication that a fight was about to start.

“Hmm.”

The young man leaned back in his chair. Not even a half hour had passed since the Crucible began, but he was already feeling a little stiff. It would be some time still, though, before he could talk a quick walk around the observatory constructed in the top of this tower. With eyes buzzing with stress from examining the screens with such fervor, he felt like a couple minutes to stare out at the Governance Hub would be altogether nice. A;; the same, at this moment he could not divert his attention. He needed to rectify his mistake.

A moment later, the drone descended at a breezy pace back to the graveyard. The imposing man known as the Angel had yet, it seemed, to move. Oren wondered if he was lost in thought, and pondered for a few seconds what to say. After working up his courage, Oren's smile returned in full force, and he clicked on the feed. “Hey! Sorry to be the bearer of good news, but it seems I may have made an error. Turns out, just one foe awaits you in the amphitheater. Feel free to check out the mausoleum if ya like, but time's wastin'! Winner of this little spat gets something special from my box, ya know. Could be the key to winning the whole thing, or something useless like a couple pills! Neheh...heh...” With humorous people, or irritable people, Oren's lines practically wrong themselves, but Dante proved himself inscrutable. What could a comedian to with a man like that, other than drift away? The drone's fans buzzed, lifting him up, up, and away. He couldn't very well not say high to the cowboy girl, after all.



The fog washed away, and darkness took his place. Before Tyrant could recognize the sight, he could very well identify his surroundings based on the smell, for they were bizarrely familiar. As the great ogre's eyes adjusted, the Maw-Pit opened up around him, exactly as he remembered it save for two very significant differences. In the very center of the grisly cavern's caged arena, an enormous tunnel bore lay upon its suitably immense drill bit, the machine stretching upward straight through the ceiling and beyond. All the way up to the surface it went, as evidenced by the dim light leaking down from above, and on its side was a sturdy-looking ladder.

Though impressive in its own right, this alteration did not hold a candle to its counterpart. One entire side of the cavern was gone, like a cardboard box with a side ripped off by some playful, colossal dog, and on the other side of the massive breach was empty space. It stretched on and on, an dark void with no visible bottom, but on the other side, hundreds of meters down and across, lay something spectacular. The Tyrant received no context or clues, only a choice: to climb, or not to climb. Around him, in an almost soporific eddy, swirled old memories. Noises came to him from the dark—hints of some kind of beast, perhaps, or an intruder, or something as familiar as the viscera-splattered ground on which he stood.

---

Jiang stopped the mess of gunshots and trumpets abruptly, which shifted into a continuous, soft drum roll. Concrete dust swirled around all over the place, its most dense spots marking the craters left from his magically-summoned arsenal. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed at the girl's ridiculous question. It was painfully obvious that this was a military march and she dares to even think of asking? Just what kind of musically handicapped individual was she? What was she even aiming by doing that? "It's a march, right?" Hmph. Mind of a nong.

"Of course it's a military march, laowai. A North Korean march - the most intense kind, in my opinion. Those bangzi hermits are really into beating their chest, as you can see.", he replied, with a slight tone of condescension. "...And this Baton was built with the sole purpose of sowing terror and destruction, when no other option is available. Do you really think I'm insane enough to bring this dangerous weapon to one of my concerts? Let alone being given permission by the Chinese Government to do that.", he added, ever so disdainfully, as an answer to Garbage's first statement, although it was sometimes quite tempting for him to show his true power to the world.

He stood there in the silence, expecting an attack or another statement which pointed out the obvious.

Jiang did not have time to examine the girl back at the Atrium, and neither did he even notice her in hindsight, so she was quite the mystery to him. There was definitely something, though - something about her voice that was pointedly convincing. It somewhat reminded him of the Lantern his tall lackey was holding in his hand. Maybe this was her thing - sweet-talking her way to victory.

Whatever it was, he couldn't afford to drop his guard. He kept holding his hands up to the level of his abdomen and constantly spun the baton around very slowly, to keep the ominous drum roll going.

"Hey, uh...Mr. Conductor?"

"That's Mr. Zhao to you, laowai. What do you want?"

"...Mr. Zhao, I have an idea that I think you should definitely consider noting."

Jiang raised his eyebrow. "Go ahead. Do your worst."

"I'm not saying anything until you promise you won't shoot if I get out of my cover now."

"...You do realize how awfully suspicious that sounds. Where are you going with this?"

"I know, but trust me on this, alright? Just this once, come on!"

He was convinced, but not just yet.

"What about weapons? You have any?"

Some shuffling was heard for a few seconds before a knife jumped up into the air from behind the ruined block of concrete and dropped somewhere behind Jiang, making a few metallic clanks before resting into place with a scrape. He kept his gaze at the concrete block.

"That knife wasn't very convincing, laowai. I want you to raise your hands as high as you can above your head and stand up as slowly as you can.", he insisted. "Maybe then I can scratch turning you into Swiss cheese off my list and actually listen to your ridiculous idea.", he added, threateningly, as he watched two hands pop up from behind the concrete and the cloaked girl, now with her hood off, slowly emerge from her cover.

Jiang slightly, but noticeably increased the intensity of the drum roll. He then began twitching the Baton up and down in a particular tact, turning the drum roll into a rhythmic, heart-like beat. This was to appear dangerous.

"Now make four steps ahead."

Her combat boots made low-pitched taps on the floor, which echoed throughout the ruined building.

The two rivals eyeballed each other, both of them noticing the other was wearing a strange set of clothing for a tournament.

"Remove the cloak.", he commanded. "You have something strapped to your back."

She untied her cloak and held it up in the air, revealing an accordion.

"Speak up, then."

"How does a truce sound to you?"

"No. The Machine grants only a single wish."

"We'll just settle this at the end. Until then, me and you. With your awesome power and my silver tongue, we can definitely beat them all."

"No."

"Listen to me - you'll get the perfect chance to fight for your wish. You want to become the best and steal the limelight, right?, she said as she ever so slightly inched closer and closer to the Asian.

"Yes, but-

"We both know I have no chance of winning this fight right now. However, I might be useful to you in future battles, as you certainly will be to me."

"PFUH! 废话! <Nonsense!>", he spat on the floor. "How am I supposed to know you don't just want to steal my phylactery?!"

As she got closer, the drumming got quieter and quieter. He was visibly becoming more convinced.

"Because I want a fair fight, as do you. Surely, a man of your skill level and mastery would prefer an opponent to match it.", she responded. "By the end of this tournament, I will have become much stronger...And perhaps much more suited to appreciating your grand symphony of destruction." she said by the time she was almost within arm's reach of Jiang's phylactery.

At this point he could feel her gaze from behind the mask yanking his heartstrings. He couldn't say anything - anything but "yes". He tried as hard as he can to say anything other than "yes", but each time he did, no matter what, he would feel something clogging his throat, preventing him from saying whatever he had in mind. The only thing he really had in mind at that moment was to accept the offer, some sort of potent power prevented him from thinking otherwise.

"What do you say, Mr. Zhao? You wanna bring them all down with me?"

The rhythm of the invisible drums became very slow and faint.

dum dum

dum dum

dum dum

dum

...

dum

"You know what, laowai? I th-"

Suddenly, the very loud sound of two metallic feet scraping the floor came from the side. Jiang looked to the side and saw one of the robots scrambling out of its cover, its bronze body gonging and jingling as it hit the floor while it was trying to get up and run away. Garbage immediately lunged towards him and attempted to reach for the phylactery.

At that same moment, he whipped the Baton downwards and a heavy electronic bass drop blasted out of nowhere. With it, a thick steel barricade quickly broke upwards through the ground, sending hundreds of concrete chunks everywhere and blasting the girl backwards.

---

"Alright, this shit's on lock. There's no way that elf can just walk off-...oh come the fuck on, really?"

Teller couldn't believe what he was seeing, an elf, wounded but alive, staggering out of the bar. Bleeding from multiple cuts, shrapnel wounds no doubt, the elf staggered out. Teller didn't hesitate to raise his rifle, ready to pop a bullet into the elf...and then the elf raised his hands, seemingly in surrender. The elf chuckled, saying "It seems you...win..friend. Perhaps you'd like to come over and..strip my soul? All you need to do is plug your phylactery into mine."

Teller narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but had little choice but to slowly close the distance, rifle trained on the elf. However, as he drew nearer, his suit's devil warning light went off. Teller's instincts kicked in and he charged the elf in a low posture. Sure enough, a bolt of pure shadow it where Teller's chest would've been if he hadn't gone for a low charge. "Lucky me. Teller thought drily as he slammed into the Elf. A steel scepter slammed into his head, though it didn't even dent his faceplate as Teller slammed his fist into the elf's face, stunning the demonologist. Teller applied his arm to the elf's throat, pushing hard, aiming to crush the elf's throat. However, before he could finish, again a powerful force yanked him off the elf. Landing with an 'oof', James hefted his rifle to bring it on target, finding the bracer-demon again facing him.

James needed to stop trying to get into melee, as that seemed to be the trigger for this..thing appearing. And so, he fell back into a nearby house, this time having time to kick down the door as the demon pursued him. It seemed the demon had no form of long range combat, good, that gave Teller the edge he needed. Charging into the house, Teller soon found what he was looking for, a dresser in which he could hide and get an ambush off. Teller jumped into the dresser to wait and, sure enough, the demon swept in...the elf shortly behind. James couldn't win a fair fight it seemed, that demon was too durable, an ambush though...that would do just fine.

Oh great, just great. Water.

Saria gazed towards the ocean, its vast expanse of blue reaching across, and perhaps even beyond the horizon. To most, their eyes would catch the dazzling reflections of sunlight upon water, and the beautiful horizon, glowing yellow-orange. For Saria, however, she looked past all that. She instead wondered what was under the water, what things may lurk beneath the seemingly peaceful ripples.

She wasted no more time sightseeing. She climbed into the creaking, rickety rowboat, which she swore was going to sink if she made too sudden a move. Of course, she could just stay at the shoreline, but she had the feeling that, whatever resided within that strange shape in the distance, it was infinitely more patient than she was.

She began to row, the boat separating from the shoreline. The boat groaned with every push from the oars. As she went farther and farther away from the shoreline, the ocean seemed to surround her, choke her with its infinite will. She looked around, and saw how small she was compared to the water, and whatever lurked beneath.

She looked over the rowboat, making sure to keep her balance as to not tip the whole thing over, and peered into the sea, though she couldn’t see more than only about several feet deep. This relieved her for a while, but as she prepared to re-center the boat and continue rowing, she caught something in her periphery, swimming quickly under the water. She immediately turned her head back around, searching the water for whatever she had just seen. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find who, or what caused the strange swimming silhouette. She continued rowing, her mind on edge.

The ocean was always something that troubled her. Humans were made to fight on land, not the sea. She was a good swimmer, but her armor would weigh her down quite a bit, reducing her ability to stay afloat. Also, there was the trouble of fighting while trying not to drown, and with the added risk of her helmet filling with water… she didn’t want to think about it.

She continued rowing for what seemed like an hour, and the strange shape didn’t see any closer. Occasionally, it seemed to oscillate or reinvent its shape before her very eyes. She wasn’t tired at the slightest, but she began to have some troubling thoughts.

Was this all a trick? Are they trying to make me row until I’m tired, then finish me off when I am weak? Maybe the enemy lies under the water, thrashing about? It might be right beneath me at this moment!

Saria yelled, drawing her sword and wildly swinging downwards, towards the water. To her surprise, what she hit wasn’t water, or any creature, but her blade was caught on stone. She looked up, and her heart began to thump like the drums of war.

No, there’s no way. It can't be…

Saria had, just a few moments ago, remembered seeing the strange lump in the sea, how it seemed so far away and never came closer. Now, however, it was right there in front of her, cyclopean architecture crossed over with a sort of gibbous gloom over the entire city, seeming to be the one place in the entire world that the sun had never touched. Saria wasted no more time, and jumped off of the boat, and into the relative safety of the city.

The ground in which she aimed to land at looked nearly flat, but when she landed, she felt herself slip, and lose balance, sliding backwards. She grabbed onto some handholds, preventing herself from slipping into the water. Whatever this place was, it was deceptive to the core. Once she brought herself up and reached “level” ground, she took the time to check her surroundings.

The city was… strange. That was one way of putting it. Others would say “demented”, “unholy”, “demonic”, and other words which carried a religious undertone. Saria couldn’t blame them. If this place wasn’t unholy, or a place of magic and demon worship, then the truth must be unfathomably worse.

To say the least, Saria gained a headache trying to decipher her surroundings. She assumed that her target lay in the massive, open, cavern of a door which lead to stygian nothingness, or so it seemed. The problem was trying to get there without being impaled by some unnoticed spike or tripping over an unseen ridge, falling into more uneven geometry which most likely was lethal; this place didn’t seem to be made for the likes of humans such as herself, after all.

Despite this, however, she pushed on, her stride getting more used to the uneven terrain, despite stumbling over certain architectural anomalies every now and then. Her mind was beginning to clear, to push away the initial panic she had received when she was rowing. Now, she had a direction to go. Now, she had a goal.

Saria now stood in front of the massive, subterranean doorway, which was strangely engraved with undecipherable scrawls and scribbles. There were murals, carvings of what seemed to be creatures not recognizable from any human knowledge. The largest mural, however, was the one at the very top, which depicted a squid-like monster that seemed to dominate above all others.

This is what you asked for, Saria. Don’t turn back now.

Even as this self-assuring thought flew through her head, she couldn’t free herself from an uneasy feeling that hovered over her like a cloud. She didn’t exactly like the idea of being killed by some strange creature within a strange city.

She took a deep breath, and began to walk forwards, into the eldritch abyss. Somewhere deep within, she heard a distant, alien-like roar.

The moment the match began, Mountain immediately exploded into action. Aiming down his scope, he quickly fired a trio of .50 caliber shots at the slime, the loud cracks echoing throughout the city. However, the rounds simply passed through his opponent’s non-solid body, leaving holes that quickly sealed. Mountain furrowed his brows as he rolled to the side to dodge a slimy tentacle which had extended from the slime, narrowly missing him as he streaked past, before retracting. Mountain returned fire, only to get the same result. Gritting his teeth, the trickshotter performed a short combat roll as another tentacle smashed into the ground where he stood, shattering the tarmac.

Dashing over to a car, he pulled out his AWP's empty magazine and tossed it away, before pulling out a new one from his pocket dimension. This one was marked 'Doritos' and was coloured bright orange. Mountain wasted no time in slamming it into his gun. Locking the bolt into place, he shot from his cover with rifle raised, only to find no sign of the slime. Looking around in confusion, he slowly lowered his gun when the ground beneath him began to shake. First, he puzzled over this, but then his eyes widened when he realised what was about to happen.

Mountain immediately backflipped and performed a short teleport away from his hiding spot. Just in time too, as a massive pillar of pink slime immediately burst from the street and skewered the vehicle, before it flowed away and shifted back into its original state. In a flash, it was upon him, and lashed out with a flurry of lightning-fast strikes with her arms. Each hit felt like Mountain was getting shot, and they knocked the wind out of him each time.

But Mountain refused to be slowed, oh no. He shrugged off the strikes; he had built up an immunity to large-caliber bullets after shooting himself with smaller ones. So, when the slime prepared to strike once more, there was a glint in Mountain's glowing orange eyes. Ducking and rolling, Mountain stashed away his AWP and stuck out his hand. Immediately, an orange sword appeared in a flash. The Doritos sword appeared to be glowing, but it was simply the light reflecting off the millions of Doritos particles surrounding it. Mountain spun around and slashed the slime's tentacle, causing it to separate and fall to the ground with a wet splotch.

"C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER!" A voice suddenly rang out from thin air. It was time for a comeback.

Mountain struck back, delivering slash after slash with his sword, causing more and more of the slime's body to fall off. Then, he tossed his sword into the air, causing it to vanish in another flash as he equipped his AWP and took aim, before pulling the trigger. The Doritos round left a trail of glowing orange dust as it shot through the air, the copper-orange projectile glinting in the light. There was hardly any time for the slime to react, as the round entered her body, and, thanks to the marvels of hitscan, immediately detonated, igniting the dust it had released earlier and enveloped the slime in a massive fireball. When the smoke eventually cleared, there was no sign of her.

Mountain gave a cockly smirk as he pointed his rifle skywards. "Ha ha! Take that, you-" He was cut off when something slammed into his back, sending him flying him forwards. Yelping, he immediately teleported groundside and dug his feet into the ground to stop himself via friction, sliding several metres back and eventually coming to a stop soon after. Growling in frustration, he glared at the slime girl, who looked considerably smaller. As another tentacle shot out, Mountain dodged the attack by performing a butterfly flip and chucked a Mountain Dew grenade while airborne. The weaponised can of Dew bounced off the ground and landed at the slime's feet, emitting its infamous clink clink sound as it did so.

The grenade then detonated, exploding in a bright flash that sent brilliant green arcs of electricity surging through the slime's body. She immediately began to violently convulse as 1337 volts coursed through her body, made even more potent due to the fact that her body was entirely made up of slime: a fluid with high water content. When the convulsions finally stopped, she seemed to melt into a pulsating puddle of pink.

Mountain took the time to celebrate. "WHOO! Take that, you-" The words caught in his mouth as the puddle suddenly seemed to rise and reform, slowly reshaping into the slime woman again. However, she didn't seem the same as before. Her previously-rosy colouration had turned to scarlet red as she suddenly appeared to be on fire, though upon closer inspection they were actually animated protrusions. Slime dripped off her body, catching fire when the droplets touched the ground. Also, unlike before, her curious and innocent demeanour had shifted into one that emanated pure hatred, one that promised harm.

Mountain stared at her for a second, before loading another Doritos magazine into his gun. "Right. How could I forget? Every fighting game is composed of two rounds. Seems like you've activated your ultimate. Well, it better be good." He smirked as he cocked his rifle and raised it. "Because this fight's been way too easy!"

Captain Bartholomew K. Runch's confusion could be matched only by his sense or sheer wonder at the amazing things around him. He and his sharpshooter Joanna were two of the last ones to show up, so he didn't get that good of a look at the competition, but what caught his eye in the small amount of time could only be described as mindblowing. Some sort of giant man-like beast was the first to catch his eye, yet it wasn't an actual giant. Then there was the fishman with metal and guns all over its body. Truly a might warrior, as all fishmen were. There was also a woman that had features of a dragon and that was truly frightening. Some sort of big machine on legs, like a walking tank. Runch figured somebody had to be inside piloting the device. He couldn't make heads or tails of anything, or anyone, else before the college officials addressed them to take some kind of large pendants that resembled hearts. The cap'n did so, of course, figuring this was that phylactery thing the way-too-serious man and his excited woman counterpart spoke of. He looked it over a little more closely, disliking the overall design and aesthetic. A bit too morbid for his tastes. Smith and Doctor Kens would probably like it, he mused.

Before the good captain could ponder any more, another fog erupted from the floor beneath them. Figuring this meant they would all be transported again, just like last time, he quickly jammed the phylactery into his inside coat pocket. Coughing a bit as he inhaled whateer this fog-substance was, all things went black and then... There was nothing. To say he existed in darkness would have been a fallacy, for even darkness itself was absent. Runch felt as though, for one fleeting moment, he was all that existed. Thankfully the sensation came to an end before he had the opportunity to ponder the ramifications of such an event. Light returned to his world, a bright light as though opened by a door, and an urging to follow from a mechanized arm. Runch wasted no time, eager for the contest to begin.

Dizzied, the pirate captain fell over on his back. Everything around him spun, and to make matters worse he had to listen to puns as he reoriented and stood up. Well ok, the puns weren't so bad. Hell, his own jokes and puns were way worse than what this... Uh... What was this thing, anyway? It looked like one of those college people, but if he were flat and on a floating hunk of metal. Dumbfounded, he could only watch as it lifted up just enough to show some kind of box secured to its underside. So he'd win that if he took out his first opponent, eh? Consider it done!

"Omnomnom! Good jokes, my friend! I shall take down my first opponent to win your treasure, then move on until I get to the wishing machine! Omnomnom! I don't know who my first opponent is, but there's no way they can withstand explosive flavor of this magnitude!" To emphasize his point, Runch drew his spoonsaber, pointed toward the night sky. With that bit of dramatic flair out of the way, he sheathed the weapon once more and took a look around to gain an awareness of his surroundings.

It definitely looked like some kind of holy grounds, just as the man in the box said. All around the pirate were churches, chapels, mosques, and other religious buildings as far as he could see. Some appeared rather plain, but others were grand indeed, with marble and golden inlay and jewels. He had to laugh at the irony of a pirate being dropped into such a place, and yet he had absolutely no intention of taking any such valuables. After all, what he and his crew sought wasn't money, but something much more.

The good captain took a single step forward, then paused. He had no idea who his first opponent was or what they could do. If he went exploring the buildings, could the ambush him? Did they already setup an ambush? Were they here right now? *Gasp* Could they be invisible?! It was possible, he hadn't seen everybody that was in that room. He definitely wouldn't have noticed if they were invisible! Runch spun around on his feet, getting a good 360 look all around him. Nobody. Well, that settled that, then. If they were invisible, then he wouldn't be able to do anything about it until after they already made their move. Might as well enjoy his time exploring these ruins while he can!

That one stepped turned into a run, which turned into surfing a wave of cereal pouring from his feet like a jet engine, which turned into a happy skip through the front doors of a particularly gothic looking cathedral, made up of many pointed spires. Inside was quite extravagant, it was clear that whichever religious group made this place was extremely concerned about appearances and showing off material wealth. In other words, it was a pirate's dream. Just not this pirate's dream. Still, the cereal man strolled through the halls enamored with the artistic value of the place. Near the entrance he saw a collection plate, but the words above it were quite telling. "Admissions."

"Omnomnom. Looks like a church for people that worship money." He strolled past tall, ornately designed support pillars, brushing his hand along them as he did so. The place was quite large, and he intended to take in every bit of it. The captain's explorations to and fro took nearly a full half hour. Finally he reached the podium, no doubt where the religious leader would address his captive audience. Like everything else in the place it showed off status and capital, yet also felt dreary. He couldn't place why it felt that way, only that... It did. Still, something caught his eye. Sitting on the podium was some sort of pendant fashioned into the same symbol as emblazoned upon the church floor and the walls.

"Well, no harm in a souvenir at least," he said, picking up the pendant and observing how the light struck it. With a shrug, the captain decided to place the chain around his neck. "Never know what might come in handy. Omnomnomnom!"

---

Meanwhile, another figure moved through the shadows of the Holy Grounds. Somewhere in all this religious mess was a target, and no target was ever left alive. The master assassin wasted no time with the churches of heretics and blasphemers, for this one was single-minded. Find the other contestant, and end him. Painfully. Stick to the shadows just in case the target can see me. Observe him from a safe location. Set up the battlefield to my advantage. If all goes as it should, they shouldn't know I was ever here. Not until it is too late and their blood stains the ground.

The Bashibozuk darted from alley to alley, sticking to the shadows even under the night sky. With expert grace he made little to no sound, but listened very closely for any trace of the target. Coming to a halt, something grabbed the hitman's ears. A low rumbling, moving quickly. Carefully he peeked from around his corner to see the man that had to be his mark. The pirate that had arrived as one of the final competitors, he was riding a wave of something... It appeared to be made of thousands of small pellets of something multi-colored. Sufficiently hidden from view, the Bashibozuk observed as the pirate ceased his wave of whatever it was and casually strolled through hte doors of a large cathedral. Fool, he was wasting his time.

Serhan moved quickly and deftly, stopping a little ways from the cathedral door. There he kneeled down in order to inspect the substance left behind by the pirate. A single blue sphere found itself lifted into the air, which he then scrutinized. ... Cereal? No, it cannot be. This is... This is beyond silly! Yet cereal it was, this he had to confirm. Fine then. The target did not only look like a breakfast mascot from the heretical lands, he had the abilities of one too. The killer recovered from this bizarre turn of events rather quickly, moving swiftly to the doors.

Once in place, he observed the pirate skipping about the inside of the building like some manner of school girl. Pathetic. He would never see Serhan coming. First thing was first, he pulled out thin razor wire and set it up at the doors. Should the pirate somehow be able to flee, he would decapitate himself on this trap. Carefully he moved inside, removing his shoes. This was not a sign of respect, far from it, but a method to ensure his footfalls could not echo throughout the building and warn his mark. Moving from column to column, just out of sight, he began laying his traps. A bit of garrote here, a crossbow attached to a tripwire there, this pirate was positively blind!

Finally, the time to instigate the kill was now. It would be a simple matter to simply slip behind this oblivious fool and slit his throat, but no. No, The Bashibozuk did not do simple. Instead he placed a small alarm clock between two columns, then took to climbing one, just out of sight. Once he was up high enough it was time to put the plan into action. Down below he had fashioned a tripwire attached to two handheld crossbows, hidden behind the columns. The pirate would bumble into the trap, get skewered, then the Hajji would descend upon him from above, yataghan in hand. Surprised and injured, the pirate's instincts should be to flee. He will propel himself with that bizarre cereal power of his and fly directly into the garrote traps. Then Serhan will finish him off, slowly as he carves the man's heart out. Yes, this will work. All it needs now is the clock to go off, triggering all the events into motion.

---

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing

"BOPPIN' BLUEBERRIES!" K. Runch practically jumped out of his coat when startled by some bizarre ringing sensation. The sound was only amplified throughout the halls of the great cathedral. As he caught his breath, his eyes scanned for the source of the disturbance. Quickly spotting the clock, he begins to slowly approach it with a quizzical look.

The skeleton had been fighting in the maze at this point, at close range against Big Big, who had been getting angrier with each punch against a mirror, shattering it each time. Bonesword tried to go for any sort of mercy about a minute ago, to which Big Big responded by shooting his magnum until it ran out of bullets. The magnum hit a total of 3 mirrors out of rage and inaccuracy, and the fighting didn't stop there. Bonesword kept up a relentless defense of parrying and blocking with his cutlass and Shroomblade combo, with the tommy gun he acquired earlier.

"I gotta say, you put up a good fight. It's quite a shame that I have to take you down." Maybe saying that was a big mistake, as the opponent of Big Big seemed to gain a surge of power as he went into a frenzied state of mind, his knuckles turning a shade of red. The next punch missed the swordsman, but it sent the hall of mirrors into bedlam as the wall was completely obliterated. The cloudy night sky was clearly visible from the open wall. Before Big Big could take another shot at punching Bonesword, the skeleton ran out of the hall and ran down the mile, shooting back at Big Big after pulling out the tommy gun. While shooting, a Bloody Harvest was called on the skeleton's part while he backed away from Big Big, who approached very quickly.

Before Big could throw another punch, a large cactus popped out of the ground and blocked the hit for Bonesword. The cactus was obliterated, but Bonesword could switch to his sword combo while Big was reacting to the tons of needles in his hand. Big was not having a good time, it would seem. Nor did he seem to have any better of a time when Bonesword began dodging Big Big's attacks, which pushed him closer and closer to a carousel.

For a while, Saria heard nothing but the echoes of her metal boots upon the uneven alien stone, the sound twisting as it passed through the air. The darkness surrounded her, enveloped her, but all she could do was walk forward. The cavern was slightly slanted down, implying that Saria was going deeper and deeper down into the city with every step she took.

Saria was suddenly overcome with a piercing headache, and she inadvertently smacked herself on the helmet as she reflexively tried to caress her aching skull. It took a while for her vision to adjust, and when it did, she was overcome with confusion. She stood inside a large, open room, exactly as tall as the doorway. Dim, greenish light filled the room, and a massive, non-euclidean structure dominated the center.

Saria couldn’t define exactly what the structure was. It seemed to change and reform itself every time she blinked, and even when she didn’t, it was not beholden to a particular shape or color. In fact, she didn’t recognize the color at all. The closer she tried to examine the structure, the more intense her headache became. She closed her eyes, trying to push the image out of her head.

When she opened her eyes once again, she saw something she hadn’t seen earlier. Someone was kneeling down in front of the eldritch structure, praying loudly. Saria came closer, within earshot. Saria recognized the person to be the strange, pale, thin, purple-haired girl she had seen earlier at the college: Rose. She scoffed at the thought of fighting this seemingly frail thing at first, but then she realized that whoever she was, she seemed to be perfectly at home in this strange, alien city. Saria could hear the girl reciting a certain phrase, but its meaning and translation was lost to her.

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.” Her voice cut like a knife, and seemed to be both young and ancient at the same time. She slowly stood up, and turned towards Saria, her violet crown and clothes standing out against the room’s dullish olive-green. On her crown rested three gems, and on her chest rested one more.

Every instinct told Saria to draw her sword and attack, but she knew that the college would most likely intervene, and she would never reach her intended goal. Dieing here would not be a satisfactory end, at least for Saria, so she stayed her blade, and waited. She would have to be patient and wait for the college to cue the start of the battle.

Rose spoke first, a pretentious grin widening after every word.

“I see you have arrived. Tell me, how are you enjoying R’lyeh? It’s quite surprising, actually. A mere human such as yourself should have gone hopelessly insane after a short trek through the city.”

“I’m a bit more resilient than other people,” Saria said. Rose gave a little chuckle, like she was witness to a small child’s foolish endeavor.

“Only marginally, if at all. In the end, you humans are to me what a speck of stardust is to an entire galaxy. The only one above me is the great Cthulhu himself, you see.”

“Cth-- What? I would prefer if you spoke English, little girl.”

“And there is but one of almost infinite symptoms of an inferior species, a lack of knowledge. How many disparate means of communication do you employ? One? Two? Maybe three? I know all of them. Single-handedly, I have constructed entire empires, conceived species, and raised civilizations. And after I expunge the rest of the feeble rubbish within this epigram of a ‘competition’, I will wake Cthulhu, and will metamorphose into the harbinger of the Great Old Ones.”

Saria listened to her banter on, barely understanding about a quarter of the words the strange girl had used anyway. She simply stood there, and waited for the drone. When she couldn’t stand the girl’s spiel anymore, she decided to shut her up. With words, of course.

“I don’t care where you came from, and what this… Cthulhu is. Whether you spawned from the depths of Hell, or the cold of the sky, you will die by blood and steel.” Saria put a hand of her sword.

"Its tragic really, a professional musician drowned out by the din of his own firearms, if I was going to die to your soundtrack the least you could do is let me listen to it, its a March right? A military one?"

Jiang, rolled his eyes, not just a foreigner but low born too. Did she really think he did this at concerts, in front of a real audience? She didn't know it was the baton that did the heavy lifting, and she was never going to. To think he'd do this in the Shaanxi Grand Opera House, the girl had special educational needs. And what, she DESERVED to hear it because she was going to die? What she deserved was to only catch the silence between the bars, and a bullet or two. Who does she think she is?

The scent of caramelising onions drifted fleetingly through the room adding a deliciously sweet aroma to the stale dry smell of finely powdered cement and the distinctly pungent smell of nitroglycerin. Mr. Zhao barely noticed, concentrating on his music and the pillar that hid the girl.

The ideas angered Jiang, was she truly that stupid? She couldn't possibly be quite that dense, they were in a tournament till the loss of their soul and she wasn't going to fight anyone? Just play baby's first accordion pieces badly, make friends with everyone using her dulcet tones and quirky accent and just hope nobody just straight up tears her in too? Killing her with a bullet to the brain right now was likely a mercy compared to the horrors they would have to face later, compared to what would happen if someone would just snatch her soul from her chest. She was clearly not ready for this, not ready for this competition. It didn't make any sense, why was she even here?

It was a ruse.

EVERYTHING about her so far had to have been a ruse. There was no other explanation, she has some terrible power lying in wait for him and all she needed was for him to drop his guard. That had to be her plan, appear meek and kind to gently eat away at the barriers and when the final one falls, Fánróng! Dead. Not going to happen, laowai.

"I KNOW YOUR GAME, LAOWAI", the conductor screamed over the gun fire, continuing to conduct with gusto, belting out "우리의 총대는 용서치 않으리" with all the vigour and passion the piece embodied.



"NOTHING MORE TO SAY? NO MORE SCHOOLGIRL QUESTIONS?"



"I CAN KEEP THIS UP, LAOWAI"

2:36

The guns stopped firing, the dust and smoke obscured the pillar but strong light cast a shadowy silhouette through it. Just behind the crumbling but still standing support was a slumped figure, sat on the floor. Jiang stood ready, baton raised high for the first swish of his second movement, his other hand poised to introduce the first section of his invisible orchestra. As the dust settled it became clearer and clearer the figure wasn't moving. A familiar sly grin crawled round Mr. Zhao's proud face; the first victim to fall to the combined power of his musical talent and superior Chinese technology.

"Take a bow, maestro."The figure whispered loudly.

Garbage's plan had backfired slightly, maybe it was underestimating a musician's desire to play there piece to completion, maybe it was the shock of the hail of kinetic force, light and noise being thrown at her. Fortunately she had the good sense to continue her retreat. The pillar provided her a blind spot to move back into the crowd of robots and disperse amongst them, leaving behind the accordion and a mini-speaker with the volume turned up. It was a shame to give them up so early, but the squeezebox was much too cumbersome in a real fight, it was wishful thinking.

"I'm already on my way out, so we can talk until I leave the range of the speaker, or I can't hear you any longer. Conductor, I wish you the best of luck in the rest of the competition, however I want you to know this. You saw them. You are a mere mortal in a game of monsters. You need to eat. You need to sleep. You need to find clean water. They don't. They can wait you out, you'll fatigue, become weak and eventually you'll beg them to end to your miserable existence out here. However, you've won the proverbial Crucible lottery, you've landed in a place which isn't immediately hazardous to your health, with a person who understands you and is willing to not fight you and cooperate with you despite having been shown no reason to trust you BECAUSE she understands the leg up having an ally would have in this competition. We can duke it out for the final soul at the very end as the most bitter, begrudging arch-nemeses, but we won't even get there without others to help us level the playing field and beat back the real terrors."

Garbage paused, giving Jiang a moment to contemplate. In the near silence Garbage stood stock still, worried her footsteps weren't masked by the pings of springs and clicks of cogs. Shelly knew he wasn't stupid, he was a goddamn conductor. The problem before was she wasn't taking him seriously, making light of the situation undermined the atmosphere he was attempting to conjure. Taking him seriously, as a musician and a threat was what he needed, and her new, rational refusal to not fight him should help him understand her original message.

"The choice is yours, continue fighting me or shoot down the drone that'll try to manipulate you into doing the former, then lets find something to alcoholic to drink while we try to work out how we're going to thrive in this fucked up world of skeletons, knights and Cheshire horrors."

Not knowing where the laowai was put Dàshī Zhao on edge, but her continued commitment to pacifism was becoming convincing. He had a moment to consider his options and weigh them carefully, could he waltz through this competition without her right now?

ID: Ryan Harper
Location: Great Lake
Time: Error
Opponent ID: Riff

“Hi there!”

With a loud whir, all barrels were pointed at the small drone.

“Neheheheheh! Don't shoot! Don't shoot! It was just a joke! I'm here to help! Look, your opponent's at that waterfall right now. If you beat him, I've got a present for ya! Okaybye!”

As the drone disappeared Ryan’s muscles released her tense grip on the controls and the mech was slowly returned to its idle stance. It now stood alone, mere inches from the water and sticking out like a sore thumb in the tranquil yet somewhat barren scenery. None of this concerned her. The Sentinel was a sturdy and imposing thing and would no doubt withstand any initial attack someone could attempt to surprise her with. She needed a moment to recover, for the second time today, from the drastic change in her surroundings.

The mech remained completely still for a while, then very slowly revolved around its waist in a smooth 360 degree motion. Ryan was surveying the area. She noted the structure in the distance, the available terrain and the direction from which she could hear the waterfall. Her eyes shifted from the viewfinder to the small radar screen underneath. It was registering no movement nearby. She directed her attention to her surroundings again. Specifically whatever that was in the distance. “Well the duel happens when we decide it happens, yeah? What if I just…go someplace else…find him later on…might be somethin’ useful there…” She leaned back in her seat and stared up at the Sentinel’s insides. A lot of them were exposed wires, tubes and electronics. Not pretty but in a pinch they were much easier to reach than if it were all covered up by shiny plates and lids. The Sentinel wasn’t made to be pretty, it was meant to be a fortress, her fortress, and she wanted to have access to its inner workings at all times. The gentle hum of its various mechanisms soothed her mind. “…Then again…a present is useful too, innit? And I could easily get back to this once the fight is over…” Her stomach balled up every time she thought of the impending duel. She had seen a few quite intimidating specimens among the people at the Atrium. She was a fortress but even fortresses can fall to the right kind of siege. The drone hadn’t mentioned who it was that waited for her at the waterfall. Ryan Harper took a deep breath and, after a few seconds, released it. She had decided to find out.



The Sentinel’s overwhelming presence was announced by its heavy metallic steps long before it had reached its destination. Ryan made no attempt at sneaking up to her opponent. A pair of gatling guns didn’t need to sneak. No sooner had she reached the top of the slope than an armor piercing bullet buried itself into her thick shell. Too thick, fortunately, for a single one to fully puncture but it had made a considerable dent and remained lodged inside it. Ryan wasted no time mulling it over and the roar of the gatling guns echoed off the surface of the lake for a good few seconds. Once she’d covered most of the area the gunshot could have come from, she stopped. The silence that followed was oddly serene, filled with the gentle chirps of crickets and the boom of the waterfall, now seeming very quiet in comparison. All that disturbed the stillness of the night were the barrels that remained spinning, still trained on the spot she’d last decimated, threatening to spew more hell if needed.

“Heh…He told me I’d be fighting a chick. Instead I get a can of bullets.” The slick voice came unexpected, from behind a large rock right by the edge of the waterfall, now considerably whittled down and surrounded by settling dust. “I was hoping to win you over with my roguish charm.” The last bit sounded almost mocking.

“If a bullet to the face is your go-to pickup line no wonder you’re still single.” The retort came with a sharpness almost strange to the tune of her voice.

Her opponent laughed from behind his cover. “Don’t be so harsh on me babe, I doubt you’d be inclined to buy a giant hunk of metal a drink if it approached you out of nowhere…Its pilot on the other hand…Say…I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I’m Axel. You can call me Riff though.”

Ryan scoffed behind her wall of steel but said nothing.

The man continued. “Look…I don’t wanna hurt you. Which I will do if I have to. So how about you come out here and we settle it peacefully…and maybe then I’ll buy you a drink. What do you say sweetcheeks?”

“No.”

“Hey, it was worth a shot...” He paused for a while. “…The offer still stands. I’ll give you a moment to think it over. I promise I’m hot!”

The Sentinel stayed in place, unrelenting. Her barrels remained at the ready.

“Ah, fine…” The voice huffed out, almost at himself. A grenade flew out from behind the rock, straight towards her. She tried to step aside but the explosion still shook her hull. At that moment an armored figure rolled out from behind its cover and threw itself off the cliff and down the waterfall. He was trying to gain distance on her.