I slip on my dress, wincing at the sight of the frayed damage from the Deathlord’s sword. My skin might be pristine, but the dress… It looks like the self-repair function has been doing its best, but it isn’t easy to repair that level of catastrophe. Bauble on my hip, slippers on my feet, I nod at the stranger in the mirror and set out into the hallway towards the glade. At the entrance, I stop in surprise.
It looks… fine. Peaceful. The willows sway in the invisible wind, the fresh air smells clean and new. There’s no sign of the desperate struggle that was waged here just a few days ago. That is until I see the couches. The nearly empty couches. There’s no sign of the influencers or most of the elderly. Hardly any movement at all. Evelynn sits alone at the table where we played cards, her expression vacant. I wander over, feeling the silence yawning around my consciousness like the edge of a cliff.
“Hello, Evelynn,” I say cautiously, settling down across from her.
“Spit it out, girl,” she says, glowering at the look on my face. “Are we playing or not?”
“I think we’re a bit short of players,” I say softly. “Have you seen Ben or Grettel?”
“Who?” My heart aches at the vacancy behind her eyes. Her wrinkled brow furrows, a hint of confusion stealing across her face. “What did you ask, dear?”
“Don’t worry about it, Eve. I’m going to go enjoy the weather. Would you like to come?”
“Go,” she says, waving a gnarled hand. “Young idiots.”
I stand and move towards the door, stumbling when tears blur my vision. How many died? How many are left?
A figure appears in the door, sword glinting over her shoulder. I scowl through my tears. Ellie.
“You. What do you want? Going to accuse me of being a blood traitor again?” When she doesn’t respond, I try to shove past. “Get out of my way.”
Ellie resists, and my pathetic 2 in strength makes itself glaringly obvious when she doesn’t even budge an inch.
“Stop, Foreman. Just stop. We can’t… there’s just…” I look up to see her eyes filled with tears. Of course. She lost her sister, or as good as. She was closer to the people here than I ever was. Her blue eyes pierce into mine. “There aren’t enough of us left for… that.”
“So you don’t trust me, but you can’t afford not to? Great. Ringing endorsement. Character growth. Cool.” I’m not being reasonable, but I don’t feel very reasonable right now. “Just move.”
“Hear me out, okay?” she asks, not moving. I fold my arms and glare at her.
“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.”
“Azo told me what happened. With Brody. We saw the room. The bodies…” She trails off with a shudder. “He said you’re the only reason any of us made it. That Brody would have taken us all out in the confusion, and we never would have known who did it. I just wanted to say… thank you. Even if George is who people look to, you’re our best hope.”
“Uh,” I say eloquently.
“Stay safe, Foreman. However you need to.” Her eyes dart to the side, and she leans in close. “They’re worried sick. They haven’t left the lobby once. Don’t keep them waiting.”
She grips my arms tightly, then steps past. I watch her leave, her steps wandering haphazardly through the glade. What the hell? Last time I saw her, she told me she’d kill me if I got in her way. Now I’m our best hope?
That better not be the fucking case. This is just one shard, and there are 144 other arenas where people are fighting and dying. I sure as hell hope one of them contains a human stronger and wiser and better than me, or we’re screwed.
Her last words finally register in my head, and I hurry down the hall.
I pause in the doorway leading out of the human apartments. At first glance, the lobby is empty. The Qellis bellhop who scammed all newcomers, Tout, is not in his usual place. I’m not surprised. If he managed to survive Haven’s protections going down, I’m a fucking Ekinor. Everyone hated that little shit, and I’m sure he was at the top of the murder list of Competitors of every species.
A gentle wheeze interrupts the stillness to my left, and a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. I’d recognize Burl’s whistling snore anywhere. When I step through, Threenut uncurls like a beagle at dinner time and throws his tiny arms around my calf. My heart is warm and worried at the same time. His belly looks smaller and definitively less round. His arms are thinner. I’d say he’s been starving himself, but that doesn’t make a damn bit of sense in a place where we don’t have to eat.
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Burl jerks awake, scattering a small pile of bones from a variety of species across the lobby. His belly looks like it went in the opposite direction, though the rest of him still looks lean and strong.
“Boss! You’re alive!”
My stomach clenches. I narrow my focus on Burl, feeling the flex of my soul darting out to splash against his. Whoa, that was new, and super weird.
Identification: Burl, Cobald Iron Worker (unemployed)
Level: 24 (12)
Strengths: Agility, Toughness
Weaknesses: Will, Intelligence
Skills: Metallurgy, Melee Combat, Defensive Specialist
The Cobald are the Competitor species of the Eleventh. A race dedicated to the accumulation of wealth, the Cobald fit into two categories: employees and employers. The former serve only to aid and strengthen the latter in an oath bond that transcends any paperbound contract (exemption: Qellis).
Burl was once the employee of Fallo Grent, a tax accountant who lied to acquire a strong following in the first stage of the Tournament. Now, his loyalty is to a strong alliance that transcends the bond of Cobald contractual obligation. He is currently the only Cobald in the Tournament of Extinction working for free.
“Burl,” I whisper around a lump in my throat. Not a parasite, not a threat. Just a diehard capitalist working for free. “It is good to see you, my friend.” I laugh through the mist in front of my eyes. “You’d also know I’m okay if you checked the party interface.”
“Hey, there’s a difference between being alive and being alive, ya know?” His scales ripple like the muscles of a cat. “Your little icon went red for a long time, then yellow. Didn’t turn green until this morning. I’m just glad to see you up and moving is all.”
“Glad to be up and moving.” I kneel down and return Threenut’s hug. “Are you guys okay? Your people? I’m kinda out of the loop.”
“None went unscathed, twig,” Three says, his eyes filling up even more of his face than usual. “T’was a night of savage storm, though the wind blew stronger for some than others.”
“Wasn’t good, boss, for anybody,” Burl says softly, shaking his long snout back and forth. “But what happened to you? That asshole Wellington told us where to shove it, and the only other softskin who came out was some sad, silent chick with a sword.”
“The Deathlord came to find me,” I say, meeting Threenut’s gaze. “Said I was the only stain on his honor. I’d have died, but the time ran out on the purge before he could finish me off.” My skin feels cold as I see again the piece of my soul disappearing into the darkness of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem particularly fair, now that I think about it. Shouldn’t he hate you too, Three?”
“Aye, twig,” he says, folding his arms. “But I be not one for bluster or bother, and ye find yerself speaking oft when ye should be silent.”
“Fair,” I say, sighing. “Where’s Zara?”
Burl waves his hand vaguely.
“Around. She’s been kinda weird since that night. Like someone complained to HR about her.” He says the last like he’s mentioning the rack or thumbscrews. “Ain’t been talking to us much.”
“Well, I’d like to stretch my legs. Shall we?”
The streets of Haven are practically empty compared to the bustling thoroughfares I’m used to. A few hunched clumps of sentients walk in xenophobic groups. The need to intermix has passed; there’s enough room for each species to never have to brush shoulders again. What little conversation I do pick up is sullen and quiet.
The huge square with the leaderboards has the most people, though it is still a far cry from the mass of sentients it was. There’s room enough that I don’t have to shove my way through the crowd to reach the population display.
Surviving Competitors: 12,949
The First (Laranya) - 1,345
The Second (Ekinor) - 1,672
The Third (Drelni) - 1,068
The Fourth (Aethid) - 2,135
The Fifth (Qellis) - 742
The Sixth (Urnza) - 997
The Seventh (Otachai) - 678
The Eighth (Gorinar) - 1,112
The Ninth (Bui) - 1,854
The Tenth (Klaspe) - 1
The Eleventh (Cobald) - 1,249
The Twelfth (Human) - 96
What the what now? The number lost is staggering, almost two thirds of the remaining Competitors gone in a night, but the distribution is even harder to grasp. Before all this, if I’d have had to pick contenders for ‘strongest’ species, I’d have gone with the Ekinor, the Drelni, or the Cobald, though each for different reasons. But each of them were decimated by Haven’s protections going down. I can hardly keep my eyes moving after I see how many the Ekinor lost.
“Uh?” I say, glancing at Burl.
“Well, turns out the Bonies and the Pretties both had the same idea: we’re the strongest, and we’re damn well gonna prove it.” His grin is not kind. “They both massed up and went after each other. It was a damn bloodbath. You kinda answered a mystery that’s been matriculating, boss. Deathlord wasn’t there when the Drelni struck. Might have gone the Ekinor’s way if he was, but he was mysteriously absent.”
“Guess that’s one silver lining to having a vendetta with the strongest asshole in the Tournament,” I say, sighing. I glance over the list for the Third, hiding my relief at seeing Vesyla’s name still glowing, now second among her entire species. “What about the rest?”
“Well, a lot of people decided they were sick and tired of the Qellis’s bullshit, so there was a semi-allied force who went after them together. There’s been no confirmation, but it seems like the Otachai and Laranya struck some kinda deal out in the forest, and the Gorinar somehow got in on it. They all came out of the woodwork and wrecked the Twinkles good. As for us…”
