We waited.

  Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The chaos in the distance continued—flashes of light, distant screams, the occasional tremor in the ground. The participant count kept dropping.

  PARTICIPANTS: 8,089 → 7,923

  "They're dying fast," the imp observed.

  "Good," I said. "Fewer people to compete with later."

  "That's dark."

  "We're in Hell. Everything's dark."

  The hare had finally stopped trembling so much. It was still anxious, twitchy—that seemed to be its default state—but at least it wasn't screaming anymore.

  I was watching a group of about fifteen skeletons working together near the collapsed wall. They'd formed a defensive line, covering each other as they advanced. Smart. Coordinated. They were making progress where individuals had failed.

  "See that?" I pointed. "Teamwork actually works here. They're—"

  One of them stepped on something.

  I didn't see what it was. A stone? A rune? Some kind of pressure plate?

  But I heard the click.

  Everyone heard the click.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then the ground started glowing.

  Not just where the skeleton had stepped. Everywhere. Lines of orange light spread out from that point like spiderweb cracks, racing across the field in all directions. They moved under the debris, under the ruins, under the massive skeletal remains scattered across the battlefield.

  "Oh no," the imp whispered.

  "What? What is that?"

  "I think someone just activated—"

  The giant bones moved.

  All of them. Simultaneously.

  The massive ribcage we were hiding in jerked. I grabbed onto one of the ribs instinctively, my fingers wrapping around ancient bone. The hare shrieked and latched onto my leg. The imp dug its claws into my shoulder.

  "WHAT'S HAPPENING?" the hare screamed.

  "THE DEFENSES!" the imp yelled. "THEY ACTIVATED THE TITAN DEFENSES!"

  The ribcage we were in lifted off the ground.

  It launched upward with enough force that my grip almost slipped. My boots with the holes scraped against bone as I scrambled for purchase. Below us, the ground dropped away—ten feet, twenty feet, thirty feet.

  "HOLD ON!" I shouted, though there was nowhere else to go.

  The entire giant skeleton was reassembling itself.

  I could see it happening all around us. Massive bones rising from the dirt like reverse archaeology. Leg bones snapping together with sounds like thunder. Arm bones reaching out from the ground, fingers the size of trucks flexing experimentally. Spinal columns threading together, vertebrae clicking into place with mechanical precision.

  And we were inside one of them.

  The ribcage rotated as it rose, and suddenly I could see out properly. We were forty feet in the air now. Fifty. The skeleton's torso was forming around us, ribs connecting to a spine that emerged from below like a submarine surfacing.

  A skull rose past us—massive, easily the size of a small house. Empty eye sockets that could fit cars. A jaw that opened wide enough to swallow buildings.

  Orange light flickered in those eye sockets. Not fire. Something else. Something that looked like liquid energy, pulsing in time with an invisible heartbeat.

  The skeleton stood.

  We rose with it.

  Sixty feet. Seventy. Eighty.

  The ground was so far below now that the other skeletons—the humans—looked like ants. I could see the entire battlefield spread out beneath us. See the other giant skeletons rising across the field—there were dozens of them. All of them assembling themselves from scattered remains, all of them standing up with the same terrible, inexorable purpose.

  "WE'RE GOING TO FALL!" the hare wailed.

  "DON'T LET GO!" the imp added unnecessarily.

  I wrapped both arms around the rib I was clinging to. My fingers found grooves in the ancient bone—handholds worn smooth by time or maybe by previous terrified occupants. The rib was maybe three feet thick, curved inward toward where a heart would have been if this thing had ever been alive.

  The skeleton finished standing.

  It was easily a hundred feet tall. Maybe more. Its proportions were vaguely humanoid but wrong—arms too long, legs too thick, spine curved in ways that shouldn't work.

  For a moment, the skeleton just stood there. Perfectly still. Like it was waiting for something.

  Then its skull turned. Toward the field below. Toward the thousands of skeletons scrambling across the battlefield.

  And it moved.

  The first step nearly threw me off.

  The entire skeleton lurched forward, its massive leg lifting and swinging and coming down with enough force to create a shockwave. The ribcage swayed violently. I felt my grip slip, caught myself, wrapped my legs around the rib like I was hugging a tree in a hurricane.

  "OH NO OH NO OH NO," the hare was chanting.

  The imp had climbed inside my ribcage (literally inside my skeletal chest cavity) and was holding onto my spine. "THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED TO ME."

  "YOU CAN FLY!" I shouted over the wind.

  "SO WHAT? THIS IS STILL THE WORST!"

  The giant skeleton took another step. Then another. It was walking across the battlefield, and with each step, it was hunting.

  I could see it targeting the skeletons below. See them running. See them scattering like roaches when the light turns on. But the giant was fast despite its size. Each step covered dozens of yards. Each movement was accompanied by that terrible grinding sound of ancient bones moving against each other.

  It reached down.

  The arm was a battering ram of bone and orange light. Fingers the size of cars spread wide, reaching for a cluster of maybe twenty skeletons who'd been trying to fight their way through the ruins.

  They scattered. Most of them made it. Three didn't.

  The giant's hand closed around them. There was a brief flash of light, a sound like breaking glass magnified a thousand times, and then silence.

  PARTICIPANTS: 7,923 → 7,905

  "It's killing them," the imp said unnecessarily.

  "I CAN SEE THAT," I said.

  The giant straightened up, its skull turning to track more targets. The orange light in its eye sockets pulsed brighter.

  And then I felt it.

  A vibration. Deep in the bones I was clinging to. A rhythm. A pulse.

  Like the skeleton had a heartbeat.

  No. Not like it had a heartbeat. It did have a heartbeat. I could feel it through the rib. A slow, steady pulse of energy flowing through the entire structure.

  "Daniel," the imp said. "Do you feel that?"

  "Yeah."

  "What is it?"

  I pressed my skull against the rib, feeling the rhythm. The pulse. The flow of energy.

  "It's... alive," I said slowly. "Not really alive, but animated. There's something powering it. Something making it move."

  "A power source?"

  "Yeah. And if I can feel it..."

  I looked down. Down at where the ribs curved inward. Down toward the center of the chest cavity.

  There. In the space where a heart would be.

  A core. A glowing orange crystal maybe the size of a basketball, suspended in the center of the ribcage by threads of light. It pulsed in rhythm with the vibration I'd been feeling.

  "There," I said, pointing. "That's what's powering it."

  The giant took another step, and we swayed violently. My stomach would have lurched if I'd had one.

  Below us, chaos had fully erupted. At least thirty giant skeletons were everywhere now, all hunting the human skeletons below. Some stomped. Others grabbed. One used its spine like a whip, sweeping across the field and sending dozens of humans flying.

  PARTICIPANTS: 7,905 → 7,354

  Nearly six hundred dead in just a few minutes.

  "This is a massacre," the imp whispered.

  The giant we were in reached down again, its massive hand sweeping across a section of ruins. More skeletons scattered. Some fired spells or arrows. I could see the impacts against the giant's bones, but they did nothing. Like shooting a tank with a BB gun.

  The hand closed. More flashes of light. More death.

  PARTICIPANTS: 7,654 → 7,631

  And then something shifted.

  The giant's movements changed. Before, they'd been almost random. They grabbed whatever was closest, stomped wherever there were clusters of participants. But now...

  Now it was turning.

  Its skull rotated, those massive orange eye sockets focusing on something specific.

  Another giant skeleton. This one maybe forty yards away, similar size, similar design.

  They stared at each other.

  "Oh no," I said.

  "What?" the imp asked.

  "They're going to—"

  The giants charged each other.

  The impact when they collided was like a bomb going off. Bones crashed against bones with enough force to create a shockwave that rippled across the entire battlefield. The ribcage we were in jerked so violently that the hare lost its grip and went tumbling through the air inside the chest cavity.

  "HARE!" I shouted.

  It hit one of the lower ribs, caught itself, scrambled back toward my leg. "I'M OKAY I'M OKAY I'M NOT OKAY."

  The giants were fighting now. Actually fighting. One grabbed the other's arm. The other responded by swinging its skull forward in a headbutt that would have pulverized a building. Bones cracked. Orange light flickered. The sound was like the world ending.

  And we were inside one of them.

  The ribcage lurched as our giant staggered back from the impact. Then it surged forward again, its other hand coming up to grab the opposing giant's neck.

  "WE'RE GOING TO DIE," the hare screamed.

  "No!" I shouted back, though I wasn't sure I believed it.

  The giants grappled, their massive forms locked together, each trying to force the other down. Our giant's ribs creaked under the strain. I could feel the bones shifting, the structure flexing in ways that bone shouldn't flex.

  And then I realized something.

  The movements. The rhythm. The way the giant responded to the other giant's attacks.

  It was like watching someone play a video game. Except...

  I pressed my hand against the rib. Felt the pulse of energy flowing through it.

  Pushed.

  The giant's arm twitched.

  Just a twitch. Barely noticeable. But it happened.

  "Did you just—" the imp started.

  "I think so," I said.

  I pressed again. Harder this time. Focused. Tried to push my intent through the bone, through the energy, into the giant's structure.

  Move left, I thought.

  The giant shifted its weight.

  The other giant stumbled, thrown off balance by the unexpected movement.

  "Daniel," the imp said slowly. "Are you controlling it?"

  "I don't know! Maybe? A little bit?"

  I pressed both hands against the rib now. Closed my eyes—though I didn't have eyes to close. Focused everything I had on the connection I could feel between me and the giant's frame.

  Swing right arm, I thought.

  The giant's right arm came up and smashed into the other giant's skull.

  Bone met bone with a sound like a church bell made of stone. The other giant's head snapped back. Orange light flickered in its eye sockets.

  "OH MY GOD," the imp said. "You're actually controlling it."

  "I'M CONTROLLING IT," I said, and I couldn't keep the grin off my face.

  Push forward, I thought.

  The giant surged ahead, driving into the other giant with its shoulder. The impact sent the opposing skeleton staggering back. Its foot came down wrong, the ankle joint collapsing, and it went down hard.

  The ground shook when it hit.

  "FINISH IT," the imp shouted.

  I didn't need to be told twice.

  Stomp, I thought.

  Our giant lifted its massive foot and brought it down on the downed giant's spine. Bones shattered. Orange light exploded outward. The fallen giant went still, its core flickering and then going dark.

  A notification appeared.

  TITAN GUARDIAN DEFEATED

  BONUS EXPERIENCE: 500 XP

  CURRENT EXPERIENCE: 545 / 200

  Another notification immediately followed.

  LEVEL UP!

  YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 3

  YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 4

  "I LEVELED UP TWICE," I shouted.

  "THAT'S GREAT," the imp shouted back. "NOW WHAT?"

  I looked out across the battlefield. At the chaos below. At the other giant skeletons still hunting participants. At the thousands of human-sized skeletons running, fighting, dying.

  And I started laughing.

  It started as a chuckle. Then grew. Became a full laugh. Then a cackle. The kind of laugh that comes from pure, unfiltered absurdity.

  "Daniel?" the imp said nervously. "Are you okay?"

  "I'M PILOTING A GIANT SKELETON," I said between laughs. "I'M RIDING INSIDE ITS RIBCAGE LIKE IT'S A MECH. THIS IS THE MOST RIDICULOUS THING THAT'S EVER HAPPENED TO ME."

  "YOU'RE LOSING IT."

  "I LOST IT A LONG TIME AGO," I said, still laughing. "BUT RIGHT NOW? RIGHT NOW I'M HAVING FUN."

  I pressed my hands against the rib again.

  Walk forward, I thought.

  The giant started walking. Each step was deliberate now. Controlled. Not the random movements from before, but purposeful strides across the battlefield.

  "Where are we going?" the imp asked.

  "That way," I said, pointing toward the Walking Mountain in the distance. "Toward the objective."

  "This is insane."

  "THIS IS AMAZING," I corrected.

  Below us, participants scattered as we approached. They couldn't tell the difference between a rampaging Titan Guardian and one being piloted by an idiot in a pink sash. They just ran.

  Smart.

  Another giant skeleton moved to intercept us. This one was bigger, heavier, with arms that looked like they could crush mountains.

  I grinned wider.

  Let's see what this thing can do, I thought.

  VIEWERS: 227 → 94,847,293

  "Oh," the imp said weakly. "People are watching again."

  "GOOD," I said, laughing as our giant punched another Titan Guardian in the face. "LET THEM WATCH."

  The opposing giant was already recovering, its massive form rising from where it had stumbled. This one was different from the first. The bones were thicker, reinforced with what looked like layers of condensed orange energy. And it was fast.

  It came at us like a freight train.

  "BRACE!" I shouted.

  The impact knocked the wind out of me—metaphorically, since I didn't have lungs. Our giant staggered back, ribs creaking under the force. The hare went flying again, screaming the entire way until it managed to grab onto a vertebra.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "DANIEL," the imp yelled. "FIGHT BACK!"

  I pressed my hands against the rib. Block, I thought. Raise arms.

  Our giant's arms came up just as the enemy giant swung. Bone crashed against bone. The sound was deafening. Orange sparks flew from the impact point, raining down on us inside the ribcage.

  And then something else happened.

  Something hit our giant's leg.

  Not the other giant. Something smaller. Multiple somethings. I looked down through the gaps in the ribs and saw them. Humans. Dozens of them. Firing arrows. Throwing spells. Hacking at the ankle joints with weapons.

  "THEY'RE ATTACKING US," the hare screamed.

  "THEY DON'T KNOW," I shouted back. "They think we're just another Titan Guardian!"

  An arrow punched through a gap in the ribs, missing me by inches. It clattered against the inner wall of bone before falling toward the glowing core below.

  "DANIEL," the imp said urgently. "We need to—"

  The enemy giant punched us in the chest.

  The entire ribcage rang like a bell. Cracks spiderwebbed across the bone I was holding onto. The core below us flickered, its light dimming for a split second before surging back.

  WARNING: STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 87%

  "OH THAT'S NOT GOOD," I said.

  Another barrage from below. More arrows. A fireball that exploded against our giant's knee. I felt the impact through the bones, felt the structure sway.

  And I realized the problem.

  I was fighting two battles. One against the enemy giant. One against the humans who thought I was the enemy.

  "I can't kill them," I said. "I can't just stomp on them. They are humans!"

  "THEN WHAT DO WE DO?" the imp shouted.

  The enemy giant grabbed our giant's shoulder. Started pulling us down. Our giant's knee buckled under the combined assault—the grappling from above, the attacks from below.

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 79%

  I pressed harder against the rib. Focused everything I had. Move, I thought. Not toward them. Away. Spin.

  Our giant twisted. The sudden movement threw the enemy giant off balance. It released its grip, stumbling back. I kept pushing, kept spinning, carrying us in a wide arc that took us away from the cluster of human skeletons below.

  "GOOD," the imp said. "Keep moving. Don't let them surround us."

  But the enemy giant was already recovering. It charged again, arms wide, going for another grapple. This time I was ready.

  Duck, I thought. Shoulder charge.

  Our giant dropped low and drove forward. We hit the enemy giant at chest height. Ribs cracked. The enemy giant's momentum carried it up and over us, and it went down hard on its back.

  The ground shook. Dust exploded outward in a massive cloud.

  "NOW!" the imp shouted. "While it's down!"

  But I couldn't. Because there were still participants down there. Right where the enemy giant had fallen. I could see them scattering, running, but not fast enough. If I brought our giant's foot down for a finishing blow, I'd crush them too.

  "DANIEL," the imp said. "You need to—"

  "I KNOW," I shouted back.

  The enemy giant was already moving. Rolling. Trying to get back up.

  I made a decision.

  Grab its leg, I thought. Pull.

  Our giant's hand shot down, wrapped around the enemy giant's ankle, and dragged. The enemy giant's bones scraped across the ground. Humans dove out of the way. Some weren't fast enough—I saw flashes of light, saw the participant count drop.

  PARTICIPANTS: 7,631 → 7,604

  My stomach twisted. Or would have, if I'd had one.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered.

  But I kept pulling. Dragged the enemy giant away from the clusters of participants. Away from where they could keep hitting us from below.

  The enemy giant kicked. Its free leg came up and slammed into our giant's chest.

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 71%

  The ribcage cracked. A whole section of bone split, and suddenly there was a gap big enough to fall through. The hare screamed. The imp grabbed onto my leg.

  "DANIEL!"

  "I'M FINE," I said, though I wasn't sure I was.

  Another kick. This one caught our giant's arm. Bone shattered. Our giant's grip loosened, and the enemy giant wrenched its leg free.

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 64%

  Both giants staggered to their feet. We faced each other across maybe twenty yards of ruined battlefield. Orange light flickered in both sets of eye sockets.

  And then the enemy giant did something unexpected.

  It roared.

  I didn't know giant skeletons could roar. But this one did. The sound came from somewhere deep in its structure, a resonance that made every bone vibrate. It was rage and challenge and pure mechanical fury all mixed together.

  And then it charged.

  A berserk charge. Arms windmilling. Feet pounding. Every step making the ground shake.

  "OH NO," I said.

  Dodge, I thought desperately. Move left move LEFT—

  Too slow.

  The enemy giant hit us like a meteor. Both of us went down in a tangle of massive limbs. Bones cracked. The world spun. I lost my grip on the rib, went tumbling through the interior of the ribcage.

  Hit something hard.

  Looked up.

  I was right next to the core. The glowing orange crystal. It pulsed inches from my face, hot enough that I could feel it even through my skeletal form.

  The enemy giant was on top of us now. Its hands wrapped around our giant's neck. Squeezing. I could feel the pressure through the structure, could feel our giant's movements getting weaker.

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 53%

  WARNING: CRITICAL DAMAGE

  "DANIEL," the imp shouted from somewhere above me. "DO SOMETHING!"

  I looked at the core. At the threads of light connecting it to the skeletal frame. At the way it pulsed in rhythm with the giant's movements.

  And I had a terrible idea.

  I reached out. Grabbed one of the threads. Pulled myself closer to the core.

  It burned. God, it burned. Like touching the sun. My bone hand started to blacken where it made contact.

  But I held on.

  And I pushed.

  Not just my intent. Not just a thought. Everything. All the energy I had. All the focus. I shoved it into the core, through the threads, into every bone of the giant's structure.

  GET. UP.

  The core flared. Bright. Blinding. Orange light exploded outward, filling the entire ribcage, spilling out through every crack and gap.

  Our giant moved.

  Not a controlled movement. A convulsion. Every joint fired at once. Arms. Legs. Spine. All of it.

  The enemy giant was thrown off. It flew (actually flew) through the air, hit the ground thirty feet away, and skidded another twenty before coming to a stop.

  Our giant stood up.

  I was still holding onto the core. My hand was charred black now. Smoke rose from the contact point. But I could feel it. The connection. Stronger than before. More direct.

  NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: DIRECT CORE INTERFACE

  WARNING: PROLONGED CONTACT MAY RESULT IN STRUCTURAL DAMAGE TO USER

  "Daniel," the imp said quietly. "Your arm..."

  I looked. The blackness was spreading. Up my wrist. Toward my elbow.

  "I know," I said. "But I need to finish this."

  The enemy giant was getting up again. Slower this time. Damaged. But still moving. Still dangerous.

  I tightened my grip on the core.

  One more time, I thought.

  Our giant charged.

  But this time, it was different. Every movement was precise. Perfect. Like I was moving my own body instead of puppeting a massive skeleton. The connection through the core made everything sharper, faster, more responsive.

  The enemy giant tried to block. Too slow.

  Our giant's fist caught it in the side of the skull. Bone shattered. Orange light exploded. The enemy giant's head snapped to the side so hard I heard something in its neck vertebrae give way.

  It stumbled. Fell to one knee.

  Finish it, I thought.

  Our giant grabbed the enemy giant's skull with both hands. Lifted. Twisted.

  The neck vertebrae came apart with a sound like breaking glass. The enemy giant's head separated from its body. Orange light flickered once, twice, then went dark.

  The body collapsed.

  TITAN GUARDIAN DEFEATED

  BONUS EXPERIENCE: 750 XP

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 41%

  WARNING: CRITICAL DAMAGE

  I let go of the core. Instantly, the burning stopped. But my arm—my whole forearm—was blackened. Cracked. Pieces of bone flaking off.

  "Daniel," the imp said, climbing down to where I was. "You can't do that again."

  "I know," I said. My voice was weak. "But we won."

  "Barely."

  The hare appeared above us, peering down from a higher rib. "IS IT OVER?"

  "Not even close," I said.

  I climbed back up to my observation spot. Looked out across the battlefield. The chaos had died down somewhat. Fewer giant skeletons now—maybe a dozen still standing. And fewer participants too.

  PARTICIPANTS: 7,604 → 6,891

  Over seven hundred dead in the last few minutes alone.

  But I noticed something else. The path ahead. The route toward the Walking Mountain. It was blocked. Massive walls of bone and stone had risen from the ground, forming a maze of barriers that forced participants to funnel through narrow gaps. And at each gap, Titan Guardians waited.

  A killing field.

  "They can't get through," I said.

  "What?" the imp asked.

  "The walls—look." I pointed. "People are trapped. They can't reach the objective."

  I watched as a group of maybe twenty skeletons tried to push through one of the gaps. A Titan Guardian's hand came down. Half of them died instantly. The rest scattered.

  PARTICIPANTS: 6,891 → 6,843

  "Daniel," the imp said slowly. "What are you thinking?"

  I looked at our giant's damaged structure. At the cracks in the ribs. At the flickering core below. At my own ruined arm.

  Then I looked at the walls.

  "I'm thinking," I said, "that we're already in a giant skeleton. And we've got maybe..." I paused, doing mental math. "Maybe ten minutes before this thing falls apart completely?"

  "Probably less."

  "Right. So we might as well use it."

  I pressed my good hand against the rib. Focused. The connection was weaker now without direct contact with the core, but it was still there.

  Walk, I thought. Toward the walls.

  Our giant started moving. Each step was heavier than before. Slower. The damage was catching up to us. But we were still mobile. Still functional.

  "What are you doing?" the imp asked.

  "Opening a path," I said.

  We reached the first wall. It was massive—maybe forty feet tall, made of compressed bone and hardened earth. Humans huddled on the other side, I could see them through gaps, watching as our giant approached.

  Some started firing arrows at us.

  "THEY'RE STILL ATTACKING," the hare said.

  "Let them," I said. "This'll only take a second."

  I pushed through the connection. Kick, I thought. Hard.

  Our giant's leg came up and slammed into the wall.

  The impact was incredible. The wall didn't just crack. It exploded. Chunks of bone and stone flew outward like shrapnel. The entire structure came down in a cascade of debris.

  When the dust cleared, there was a gap. Wide enough for dozens of participants to pass through at once.

  They stared. Just stared. Dozens of skeleton faces looking up at us in what I imagined was complete confusion.

  "GO!" I shouted down at them, even though I knew they couldn't hear me.

  One of them moved. Then another. Then they were all moving, streaming through the gap, running toward the next section of the maze.

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 34%

  "Next one," I said.

  We moved to the second wall. This one was thicker. Reinforced. But our giant was still massive. Still powerful despite the damage.

  Punch, I thought. Through it.

  Our giant's fist drove into the wall like a wrecking ball. Bone cracked. Stone crumbled. The wall held for a second, two seconds, then gave way. Another path opened.

  More participants rushed through.

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 28%

  "Daniel," the imp said. "We're running out of time."

  "I know. One more."

  The third wall was the biggest. And it had a Titan Guardian on the other side. I could see it through the gaps—another giant skeleton, waiting to catch anyone who made it through.

  "That one's got a guard," the imp said.

  "I see it."

  I took a breath I didn't need. Pressed both hands against the rib—even the damaged one, despite the pain.

  Charge, I thought. Everything we've got.

  Our giant ran. Each step shook the ground. Cracks spread through the ribcage. The core flickered dangerously. But we kept moving. Faster. Harder.

  We hit the wall at full speed.

  The world exploded.

  Bone. Stone. Light. Sound. Everything at once. The wall didn't just break—it disintegrated. And we went through it, still moving, still charging.

  "I love you, big guy! COME ON!"

  We slammed into the Titan Guardian on the other side before it could react.

  Both giants went down in a massive tangle of limbs.

  STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT 11%

  CRITICAL WARNING: COLLAPSE IMMINENT

  "ABANDON SHIP," the imp screamed.

  "NOT YET," I shouted back.

  We were on the ground now. The other Titan Guardian was on top of us, trying to pin us down. But our giant was already falling apart. I could feel it through the bones. Feel the connections failing. The core's light was barely a flicker.

  But we were through. Through the wall. Through the barrier. And the path ahead was clear.

  "NOW," I said. "NOW WE RUN."

  I released the rib. Before jumping, I reached down into the ribcage one last time. My charred hand closed around a core fragment—a piece that had broken off during the final impact. It was still glowing, still warm, still pulsing with orange light.

  I shoved it into my inventory, then grabbed the imp with my good hand. The hare was already on my shoulder, claws dug in tight.

  "JUMP!" I shouted.

  We jumped.

  Out through one of the massive cracks in the ribcage. Into open air. Fifty feet up.

  We fell.

  Hit the ground hard enough that I felt something in my leg crack. Rolled. Kept rolling. Behind us, the Titan Guardian we'd been riding collapsed completely. Bones fell like rain. The core went dark. The other Titan Guardian struggled to get out from under the debris.

  We ran.

  Well, limped. My leg was definitely broken. But we moved. Away from the fallen giant. Away from the walls. Toward where the participants were streaming through the gaps we'd created.

  They ran past us. Dozens of them. Hundreds. None of them attacked. Maybe they recognized the pink sash. Maybe they were just too focused on getting through to care.

  "WE'RE ALIVE," the hare said, sounding shocked.

  "WE'RE THROUGH," I said, and started laughing again.

  Behind us, the chaos of the Titan Guardian section faded. Ahead, the Walking Mountain loomed larger. Closer.

  PARTICIPANTS: 6,843 → 6,229

  VIEWERS: 94,847,293 → 187,392,847

  "Almost two hundred million viewers," the imp said weakly.

  "Good," I said, limping forward. "Let them watch. Let them see."

  "You opened the path," the imp said. "For everyone."

  "Yeah," I said. "I did."

  "That was stupid. We could've just climbed over it and gotten to the heart first."

  "Probably." I stopped and looked at the imp. "But don't get used to it. I'm still planning to win this thing."

  And then it happened.

  As participants streamed past us through the gaps we'd created, something changed. One skeleton stopped. Turned toward me. And spoke.

  "Thank you."

  Two words. Simple.

  I stared. "What?"

  The skeleton gestured at the broken walls behind us. "For the path."

  Before I could respond, another skeleton stopped. Then another. A small group formed—maybe a dozen—while hundreds more continued streaming past us toward the mountain.

  "You saved us hours," a mage in tattered robes said quickly. "Those walls would've killed most of us."

  "You gave us a chance," an archer with a cracked skull added.

  The small group looked at me with something I hadn't seen since arriving in Hell. Respect.

  "I..." I didn't know what to say. "I just... it seemed like the right thing to do?"

  "Most people wouldn't have," the warrior said simply.

  A skeleton in heavy armor stepped forward. "Daniel Keres. You have my gratitude."

  They placed a fist over their chest—some kind of salute. A few others copied the gesture.

  "Thank you," someone said.

  "The Pink Sash Savior," another added with a dry laugh.

  I felt something warm in my chest—or where my chest used to be. Something I hadn't felt in forty-three years.

  Recognition. Acknowledgment.

  "I don't know what to say," I managed.

  "You don't need to," the warrior said. "Just keep going."

  The imp shifted on my shoulder. The small group began dispersing, rejoining the flow of participants rushing toward the mountain.

  "Good luck!" someone called back.

  And then the world exploded with light.

  One second we were standing in the Titan Guardian section, surrounded by grateful skeletons. The next second, reality itself seemed to tear.

  White light. Blinding. All-consuming. Like someone had turned the sun inside out.

  I felt myself being pulled. My essence. My being. Everything that made me me was being yanked through space by an invisible force.

  The imp screamed. The hare screamed. I probably screamed too.

  And then, just as suddenly, we were somewhere else.

  The Conclave of Embers.

  The massive arena. The obsidian walls pulsing with ember-light. The rows upon rows of stone seating.

  But it was packed now. Not with the few thousand skeletons from before. With everyone. Every single participant from the trial. Thousands upon thousands of skeletons, all materializing at once, all looking around in confusion.

  "What—" I started.

  "THEY TELEPORTED US," the imp said, its voice shaking.

  The central platform was occupied. All seven Patrons stood there, exactly as they had before. But their expressions—or what passed for expressions on divine beings—were different.

  They looked furious.

  Pyralis wasn't smiling anymore. Her perfect, terrible face was set in a expression of cold anger. The flames of her dress burned hotter, brighter, more aggressive.

  "Oh no," I said.

  Pyralis raised her hand, and every sound in the arena ceased instantly. Thousands of skeletons went silent mid-conversation, mid-breath, mid-thought.

  Her voice, when she spoke, was nothing like the cheerful, welcoming tone from before. It was cold. Sharp. Absolute.

  "THIS TRIAL IS TERMINATED."

  The words echoed through the arena like hammer blows.

  Confused murmurs started immediately, but Pyralis's glare silenced them.

  "The Walking Mountain Trial," she continued, her voice cutting through the air like a blade, "has been compromised. The integrity of the challenge has been violated. The structure of the competition has been fundamentally altered by actions that, while not technically against the rules, completely undermine the purpose of the trial."

  Mortan stepped forward. His grinding voice carried weight that made the stone beneath our feet vibrate. "The Last One. Step forward."

  Every skeleton in the arena turned to look at me.

  "Oh hell," I whispered.

  I walked toward the platform. The crowd parted again, but this time it felt different. Out of fear. Fear of me. Or fear of what was about to happen to me.

  I climbed the steps. My exposed toes clicked against the stone. The seven Patrons stared down at me with expressions ranging from fury to cold calculation.

  "Daniel Keres," Pyralis said. Her golden-crimson eyes were blazing. "Do you know what you've done?"

  "I... "

  "You destroyed the trial," Valorix growled. "The challenge was designed to test individual strength, cunning, and determination. To separate the worthy from the unworthy through adversity."

  "You turned it into a cooperation exercise," Lucida's wind-chime voice added. "You created a path. You removed the obstacles. You allowed thousands of participants to advance who should have failed."

  Verdanna's gentle voice had an edge to it now. "The trial was meant to prune. To thin the ranks. To ensure only those with true potential would continue."

  "Instead," Umbros whispered, his voice carrying across the entire arena, "you saved everyone. You turned a crucible into a highway."

  Clericus adjusted his glasses with shaking hands. "By the metrics we established, approximately seventy-three percent of current participants should have been eliminated in the Titan Guardian section. Instead, survival rate was ninety-one percent. The statistical deviation is... unprecedented."

  Mortan's scythe came down, its blade striking the platform with a sound like thunder. "You broke our trial, Daniel Keres. Through sheer, infuriating altruism."

  Pyralis stepped closer. The heat from her dress made my bones feel like they might catch fire. "Do you understand what this means?"

  "That I'm in trouble?" I suggested weakly.

  "That everyone who benefited from your actions is now disqualified," she said, her voice dropping to something almost gentle—which somehow made it more terrifying. "Every single participant who passed through those gaps you created. Every skeleton who survived because you broke the walls. Every soul who advanced because of your interference."

  She turned to address the crowd.

  "ATTENTION," her voice boomed across the arena. "ANY PARTICIPANT WHO UTILIZED THE PATHS CREATED BY DANIEL KERES IS HEREBY DISQUALIFIED FROM THE CONCLAVE TRIALS. YOU WILL NOT BE PERMITTED TO PARTICIPATE IN ANY FUTURE TRIALS. YOU WILL NOT BE SELECTED AS CHAMPIONS. YOU WILL BE ASSIGNED TO BASIC SERVICE ROLES WITH NO OPPORTUNITY FOR ADVANCEMENT."

  The arena erupted. Shouts. Screams. Rage.

  I looked out at the crowd and saw it happening in real-time. The respect. The gratitude. The acknowledgment.

  All of it draining away.

  Replaced by something else.

  Hatred.

  "YOU RUINED US!" someone screamed.

  "WE TRUSTED YOU!" another voice called out.

  "I COULD HAVE MADE IT ON MY OWN!" a third skeleton shouted, though we all knew that was probably a lie.

  The warrior who'd thanked me earlier was staring at me now with hollow sockets full of betrayal. "You made us think you were helping. But you were just sabotaging everyone."

  "I didn't—" I started.

  "YOU DESTROYED OUR CHANCES!" the mage in tattered robes screamed. "We had ONE OPPORTUNITY and you RUINED IT!"

  The archer with the cracked skull spat at my feet—or tried to, skeletons don't have saliva. "Pink Sash Savior? More like Pink Sash Saboteur."

  The crowd was turning. What had been gratitude was now pure, concentrated rage. Thousands of skeletons, all blaming me for their disqualification. All looking for someone to punish.

  "They're going to kill me," I said quietly.

  Pyralis raised her hand again, and silence fell. But it was a hostile silence now. A waiting silence.

  "However," she said, and something in her tone made me look up. "We are not without mercy."

  The other Patrons exchanged glances.

  "Daniel Keres," Pyralis continued. "What you did was... remarkably clever. Infuriating. Disruptive. But clever. You saw a problem and you solved it in a way we didn't anticipate."

  "You demonstrated strategic thinking," Lucida added, her multiple voices harmonizing. "Creative problem-solving. The ability to see beyond immediate personal gain."

  "You showed leadership," Valorix rumbled, though he still looked angry about it. "Even if that leadership undermined our carefully structured trial."

  "You exhibited growth potential," Verdanna said. "The willingness to sacrifice personal advantage for collective benefit."

  "You displayed hidden abilities," Umbros whispered. "Most interesting."

  "Your viewer numbers are astronomical," Clericus added, consulting his clipboard. "Nearly two hundred million. That's... that's more than any participant in recorded history at THIS stage."

  Pyralis smiled. Not her cheerful smile. Something sharper. More calculating.

  "So here's what we're going to offer you, Daniel Keres. A choice."

  She gestured, and images appeared in the air—the seven Patrons, their symbols, their domains.

  "Option One," Pyralis said. "We declare you the winner of this trial. Despite the chaos. Despite the disruption. We acknowledge that you completed the objective in your own unique way. We grant you the right to choose any Patron you wish. Full champion status. All the benefits that come with it. Power. Resources. Authority."

  She paused, letting that sink in.

  "You would skip all remaining trials. Receive immediate placement. Begin your service at the highest level available to new recruits."

  The crowd murmured. Some with envy. Some with rage.

  "Option Two," Pyralis continued, and her smile grew sharper. "You withdraw from the trials entirely. You give up your chance at championship. You forfeit your right to choose a Patron."

  "And in exchange," Mortan added, his grinding voice almost gentle, "everyone you disqualified gets reinstated. Every skeleton who passed through your gaps gets another chance. The trial continues without you."

  "Thousands of participants," Lucida said. "Thousands of opportunities. All restored."

  "But you," Valorix said, pointing at me with one massive armored finger. "You would be assigned to nothing. No choice. No advancement. No chance at glory."

  "You would spend your afterlife in the lower ranks on the higher floors," Verdanna said softly. "Serving others. Watching champions rise while you remain at the bottom."

  "Forever," Umbros whispered.

  Pyralis spread her arms wide. "So, Daniel Keres. The Last One. The Final Survivor of Earth. What will it be?"

  "Power and glory for yourself?" Mortan asked.

  "Or opportunity for thousands of others?" Lucida continued.

  "Choose wisely," Clericus said, his pen hovering over his clipboard. "This decision is final and binding."

  The arena was completely silent now. Thousands of skeletons watching. Waiting. Thousands of hollow sockets fixed on me.

  The imp was gripping my shoulder so tight it hurt. "Daniel..."

  "I know," I said quietly.

  "Think about this," the imp urged. "Think about what you're giving up."

  "I am thinking," I said.

  I looked at the Patrons. At their divine faces. At their offer of power and authority and everything I could want.

  Then I looked at the crowd. At the thousands of skeletons who'd been disqualified because I tried to help. At their angry faces. At their ruined chances.

  I thought about who I was. Who I wanted to be.

  And I realized the answer was obvious.

  "Daniel, don't—" the imp started.

  I looked up at Pyralis. At her golden-crimson eyes. At her calculating smile.

  "I withdraw from the trials," I said.

  The words hung in the air.

  "Daniel, you idiot—" the imp hissed.

  "Let me finish," I said quietly. Then, louder, addressing the Patrons: "I withdraw from the trials. I give up my chance at championship. I forfeit my right to choose or be chosen."

  I took a breath I didn't need.

  "Reinstate everyone who was disqualified. Give them their chance back. Let them compete."

  Pyralis tilted her head. "You understand what you're giving up?"

  "Completely," I said. "I understand that I'm choosing to spend my afterlife at the bottom. That I'm giving up power and glory and everything that comes with being a champion. That I'm probably making the single stupidest decision of my entire existence—both life and afterlife."

  I looked out at the crowd again.

  "Forty-three years where my only concern was keeping myself alive. Where I never had to think about anyone else because there was no one else."

  My voice grew stronger.

  "And you know what? That survival was empty. It was meaningless. I lived longer than everyone on Earth, and for what? To die alone? To be remembered as the coward who outlasted everyone?"

  I turned back to Pyralis.

  "I'm not doing that again. I'm not choosing myself over thousands of others. Not when I have the chance to do something that actually matters."

  The arena was silent. Completely, utterly silent.

  Pyralis stared at me for a long moment. Then she started laughing.

  Not a cruel laugh. Not a mocking laugh. A genuine, delighted laugh.

  "Oh, Daniel Keres," she said, wiping at eyes that probably couldn't produce tears. "You beautiful, foolish, absolutely magnificent idiot."

  She turned to the other Patrons. "Did you hear that? Did you hear that?"

  "We heard," Mortan said. For the first time, his grinding voice sounded almost... approving?

  Pyralis turned back to me. "Very well, Daniel Keres. Your choice is accepted."

  She raised her hands, and power flooded the arena.

  "BY THE AUTHORITY OF THE SEVEN PATRONS, THE FOLLOWING DECREE IS MADE:"

  Her voice echoed through every corner of the space.

  "ALL PARTICIPANTS PREVIOUSLY DISQUALIFIED DUE TO THE ACTIONS OF DANIEL KERES ARE HEREBY REINSTATED. THE TRIALS WILL CONTINUE. ALL OPPORTUNITIES REMAIN AVAILABLE."

  The crowd erupted—but this time not in rage. In shock. In disbelief. In something that might have been gratitude, though it was mixed with confusion.

  "DANIEL KERES IS WITHDRAWN FROM COMPETITION.."

  Pyralis lowered her hands. Looked at me with something that might have been respect.

  "Was it worth it?"

  I looked out at the thousands of skeletons. At their shocked faces. At the warrior, who was staring at me with something like wonder. At the mage in tattered robes, who had tears running down a face that shouldn't be able to produce them. At the archer with the cracked skull, who had placed a fist over their chest again.

  "Yeah," I said. "It was worth it."

  The imp was crying on my shoulder. Actually crying. "You idiot," it sobbed. "You absolute idiot."

  "I know," I said again, patting its tiny head.

  The hare pressed against my leg. "THAT WAS VERY BRAVE," it said quietly. "VERY, VERY BRAVE."

  "Thanks, buddy."

  Pyralis snapped her fingers, and I felt myself beginning to fade. Being pulled away from the platform. The trial was over. For me, at least.

  "Goodbye, Daniel Keres," Pyralis said. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again. The afterlife is full of surprises."

  The last thing I saw before the light took me was the arena. Thousands of skeletons. All watching. Some raising fists to their chests. Some simply staring in disbelief.

  And for the first time since arriving in Hell, I felt like I'd done something that actually mattered.

  Something that was actually right.

  Then the light consumed me completely, and I was gone.

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