Burl has a habit of talking to himself quietly while he thinks no one is listening, a habit I discovered when his constant personal yapping kept me from easy sleep throughout his watch. At least he didn’t say anything suspicious, like how he’s planning on murdering us in our sleep.

  I hold up a hand before he opens his mouth to wake me. He hisses in response, something akin to surprise, but heads over to wake the others. Threenut comes awake ready, club in hand, leafy hackles raised. He sees me sitting quietly and calms, dropping the head of his stick to the earth with a quiet thump. Zara’s carapace clicks, and her many arms jerking once before settling into their normal ready pose.

  “Well then,” I say, standing and stretching. The sleep I got was way better than it had any right to be, and the gentle crack of my joints is a sweet release. “Anyone see anything in the night? No?”

  Three sets of eyes follow me as I move, watching my every step. The moment, quiet as it is, brings the reality of it all crashing back in. How did I get here? I’m a meek, sarcastic nerd who bites her tongue rather than getting in an argument. Now, a trio of aliens are looking to me to lead? And not just in a group project kind of setting, but when the stakes are literally life and fucking death. I am so ill-equipped for this it would be laughable to even imagine. It is like having that dream of being naked in front of the class, but real, and way, way worse. If I fuck up, we die.

  “Stop, Competitor. These thoughts will lead nowhere good, and do you no credit.”

  What credit do I deserve?

  “That they did not kill you or each other on sight is a miracle. That they do not do so now is a new miracle with every passing minute. They would have, but for your particular brand of irrational, impossible, unmitigated insanity.”

  Why do you insult me in threes?

  “Who is insulting you?”

  Dear God. Considering you live in my brain, I don’t understand you at all.

  “As a spirit living in your brain, the feeling is mutual.” She pauses, then continues, her voice reflective. “You flout the rules and expectations of the Tournament wholly and completely. You have brought these mortal enemies together, for good or ill. If you do not lead them, there is only one way this story ends.”

  Great.

  “Then, I guess we should go find some Challenges? Everyone cool with that plan?”

  “Nothing has changed since we agreed upon this course,” Zara says flatly.

  “Just making sure,” I say, feeling my cheeks burn. Way to lead, Sam. Strong, assertive, and all that. “Then let’s, uh, get to it.”

  The path is as winding and featureless as ever. We continue in the direction we were heading last night, following its bends and taking forks to the left to stay away from the Haven. Knowing that it is a giant circle gives some clarity as to why we so seldom ran into other Competitors. Everyone—or at least most everyone, when I think of Assless the Murderhobo—gravitated towards the center and safety, while Threenut and I stuck to the edges. It could also be why the Challenges keep getting increasingly difficult. Perhaps, the farther out you go, the scarier things get. And we’re going as far out as we can. Joy. Last time, we had to fight a twelve foot undead construct siege robot. What can Dickhead throw at us if all four of us get thrown into a combat Challenge together? The Death Star?

  I’m just full of optimism today.

  We’ve barely gotten going when something brings me up short. Threenut and Burl, walking together, continue blithely on, but Zara stops, half of her eyes turning my way inquisitively. There’s something tingling at the edge of my senses, something wrong, clamoring for my attention. Something about the path ahead, hardly noticeable, a bit of discoloration, almost like the earth has been disturbed…

  “Hey, guys? I think—”

  A mechanical click echoes through the still air. A maw snaps open beneath their feet.

  Purple light envelops the path just as they disappear.

  Gravity Manipulation. Strengthen Gravity.

  Burl and Threenut fly—fall—upwards out of the maw just before it slams closed with a sharp clang. I cut off the power as they rocket upwards, but their momentum carries them over the tops of the trees. They begin to fall, and I thread some power into Weaken Gravity so their landing will be a bit less harsh. And… hmmm. They’re going to fall right back on the trap, aren’t they? Might as well use this as an opportunity to practice. I activate Gravity Manipulation again, this time targeting the two of them specifically and tying their center of gravity to the earth nearby. Between the effects of Weaken and Manipulation, they fall gently to land at my feet, neither kicking up much more than a puff of dust.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Even after all that, my soul energy reads 146/191. Thinking through the number of Skills I just activated, that sequence would have cost me at least 80 points. I guess evolution really does pay off.

  “My thanks, twig,” Threenut says, climbing shakily to his feet.

  “Yeah, but next time, why can’t you warn us ahead of—”

  “Quiet.” Burl’s mouth snaps shut instantly. Threenut and Zara, noticing the look on my face, immediately go on guard. “I hear something.”

  “What is it?” Zara asks quietly, her eyes spinning in several directions at once.

  “Shhh. Listen.”

  The others all tilt their heads (and thorax, in Zara’s case), though none show any signs of hearing anything. That isn’t surprising; it’s on the edge of even my Perception. Voices, drifting on the wind. And they’re getting closer.

  “I don’t think that trap was part of a Challenge. Off the path. Quick.”

  We hustle into the trees, each taking refuge behind a trunk thick enough to hide us. Before long, the voices grow loud enough and distinct enough that I begin to pick out words.

  “...easy as cogwork,” a nasally male voice says. “All these other species can’t tell their butts from their birefens.”

  I frown. A word that the translation power can’t translate? Is this like Threenut and baseball?

  “Wonder if they’re all this stupid,” an equally-grating female answers. “Either we’re going to walk away with the victory, or we’re culling the dumb from the ranks.”

  “Both, probably. We obviously evolved brains before most of them evolved past a single cell.”

  They continue in a similar vein, voices growing louder with every passing moment. I have no idea who they are, and already I hate them. Hearing them talk, I imagine I’d hate them even if they hadn’t set a trap that would have killed two of my companions. The arrogance dripping from every single word is startling. Zara and Threenut stiffen when they come into normal auditory range, and Burl a beat after.

  “What is the way to sunlight, twig?” Threenut hisses. Zara and Burl turn to look at me, and my inadequacy rears its ugly head again.

  What do we do? These people tried to kill us, and, judging from how they’re talking, they aren’t cut from the same open minded cloth as my little group. They seem more like Assless the Murderhobo. But what should we do? Do we hide until they leave? Do we strike while they’re checking their trap for our bodies? Or do I do what I’ve done with all the Competitors I’ve run across, and try talking to them?

  My gut tells me talking to them is futile. I sigh. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.

  “You’re going to get us all killed.”

  Probably. Hey, while we have a second. Can you talk to other Mentors? Do you, like, know any of them?

  “That question is more complicated than you think. Yes, and no.” She sounds, for all intents and purposes, embarrassed.

  Hey, what? Do you know Zara’s? Or Threenut’s? Is one of them your ex, or something?

  “We can only talk under certain circumstances that haven’t been met yet in the Tournament. So I don’t know who Mentors either of them. Focus, Competitor. If you’re to survive making another stupid decision, you can’t let idle curiosity distract you.”

  The pair of Competitors come into view. I blink, frowning. Are those… elves? Like, fantasy style, pointy eared, thin and elegant elves? Their skin has a light silver tint, but they’re wearing some sort of advanced jumpsuit like they’re spaceship mechanics. Grey, with yellow accents, almost like company uniforms. And matching tools or weapons on their hips, chrome and blinking. I steel myself and glance towards Threenut.

  “If this goes south, come out guns blazing,” I whisper.

  “Twig, these words, they do not carry meaning—”

  “If they attack me,” I cut him off patiently. “Hit the shit out of them.”

  “Aye,” he says dubiously.

  Yeah, bud. I’m not certain about this either. I glance around the tree, taking in their slender figures once again.

  Identification: Re Revelstar, Aethid Metalshaper

  Level: 14

  Strengths: Intelligence

  Weaknesses: Charisma, Strength, Toughness

  The Aethid are the Competitor species of the Fourth. Contrary to Earth myth, Aethid are a race dedicated to technological innovation and refinement, always seeking the next great discovery to push their species forward. They value intelligence over any other evolutionary factor, and that choice has left them vulnerable to personal physicality.

  Identification: Le Revelstar, Aethid Metalshaper

  Level: 14

  Strengths: Intelligence

  Weaknesses: Charisma, Strength, Toughness

  The Aethid are the Competitor species of the Fourth. Contrary to Earth myth, Aethid are a race dedicated to technological innovation and refinement, always seeking the next great discovery to push their species forward. They value intelligence over any other evolutionary factor, and that choice has left them vulnerable to personal physicality.

  Wait, are they brother and sister? I look at them again, their posture, their height. Are they… twins? Is that fair?

  “It would be irregular, but you also know nothing of the Aethid people. Perhaps they have homogenized in their evolution.”

  They might all be like this?

  “It has precedent.”

  Taking a deep breath, I step out from behind the tree. The Aethids don’t notice. Re, the dude, has taken the tool from his belt and is fiddling with it. The ground groans as the maw opens, and a platform of silvery metal rises from the below. A set of wicked spikes decorates its surface, blood of various colors dried in a grotesque rainbow. Inwardly, I shudder. Threenut and Burl owe me.

  “Hey, what’s this?” Le says, tensing. “Where are they?”

  “What?” Re looks up from the blinking chrome tool in his hand. “That’s weird. Do you think it set off on its own?”

  “Hello!” I call out, forcing some strength into my voice. “Clever trap, friends. You almost had—”

  Le spins in a blur, ducking and moving towards the treeline. There is a flash. Something hits my chest. I blink at the lilac sky. Or try to.

  Cloudless. Still. Silent. Too far to touch. Too far to touch me.

  The world is the same, but different. There is something missing. A sound, a background rhythm that has suddenly fallen silent. A rhythmic beat.

  Oh. My heartbeat. Am I… dead?