I rush to the edge of the stadium and lean over the railing, trying to catch sight of where Lisari vanished. She’s only a few feet below me, however, standing on a catwalk fixed to the back of the stadium. There’s a whole series of precarious paths and bridges built into the struts beneath the stadium. I glance back to make sure no one is watching, then swing myself over as well.

I slip as I go to grab the rail. My left hand slides right off, pain jolting up my arm as my injury strikes the railing.

I drop down beside Lisari with a hiss of pain and stagger to the side before I find my footing. Pressing my hand to my chest for a moment, I wait for the waves of pain to finish washing over me. That’s going to take some getting used to. Maybe my fingers will grow back with my next level up, but that won’t make a difference at this moment. Right now, only the next ten minutes matter.

Lisari raises an eyebrow as if to say, “Okay?”

I nod, beckoning her forward. “Let’s go.”

She takes me into the underworkings of the stadium, navigating a narrow passage of catwalks and beams. I wonder when she’s had time to explore all of this. I know she’s been working at the stadium for the last month, but I’m still a little unclear on what her job is, aside from assisting Talia. Regardless, it appears she’s got a more adventurous side than I’d given her credit for.

Lisari slows down as she comes to the end of a walk, a wooden wall in front of us, then carefully, quietly, begins to climb up a series of crossbeams. It’s awkward to follow with one hand, but I manage without too much difficulty. When Lisari reaches the top of the wall, she swings herself up onto a crossbeam and lays down on it, squirming along another foot until her head pokes out over the top of the wall. I follow on a beam next to her. Beneath us are a series of red and white cloths hung from our rafters which sway in the breeze. Between their flaps, I can make out the contents of the room. Voices waft up to us from below.

“...must be a way?” Talia is saying.

A handful of guards line the back of the spectator box. At the front is a row of chairs, all positioned to overlook the stadium, most filled with people in fancy attire—the council members Talia has mentioned, presumably. They flank two large, ornate chairs at the center, practically thrones. Both are empty, but a giant, subtly glowing woman is leaning casually against one of them: Maru.

Just her sight causes anger to rise in me like a tide. She’s using a knife to pick at her nails, and I’m not even sure she’s listening as Talia speaks.

“This girl was entered by mistake,” Talia continues. “She didn’t want to compete. Can’t she forfeit the next round?”

“I made no mistakes in who I selected for this tournament,” Maru says. “If she was chosen, it was because she demonstrated herself worthy of my attention. Quite unlike you.” She groans, craning her head back to look out over the stadium. “Aren’t they done yet?”

“Please,” Talia tries again. “All I’m asking—”

One of the guards steps forward. “The Champion has made herself clear. Please return to your seat, Lord Talia.”

“Yes, come on,” one of the council members says, beckoning her over. “It looks like it will only be another minute or two before the match can resume.”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Talia says, but gasps in surprise when one of the guards roughly grabs her by the arm. “Let go of me!”

“Take a seat, Lord Talia,” Jules says, dragging her away from Maru. “You may be as forward as your sister was, but you do not hold her authority. You are lucky to have been permitted such attendance in the first place.”

Talia rips her arm from Jules’s grasp. “Careful, Captain. I oft had to remind your predecessor where the City Guards’ funds came from. I should hope I won’t have to do the same for you.”

Jules’s lips curl in distaste. “You do not.”

“Let it be, Talia,” one of the council members speaks up again. “Politics can wait. Enjoy the entertainment for now, won’t you?”

Talia looks to Maru, but her back is turned, now leaning over her own chair, chin resting on her fist in a bored posture as she looks down on the stadium below. Talia’s shoulders sag in defeat. She glances toward the exit.

I sigh out a quiet breath. That’s it, then. She failed. I hadn’t expected it to end any other way, but at least she kept her word. At least she tried.

Now, it’s time to do things my way.

Silently, I wiggle around until I can grab the water breathing potion at my waist. I cringe at the quiet snap of a clasp coming undone, then I grab the cork with my teeth and pop it out. Using my legs to hold onto my beam, I slowly pour the potion out onto my scarf. A couple drops soak through the cloth and fall below: most are caught by the swaying curtains. A few fall all the way through, tapping quietly on the wooden floor. I stop and hold my breath, but no one notices. I go back to pouring out the potion. It takes an agonizing minute to empty the bottle.

Once I’m done, I struggle to one-handedly get the empty bottle clasped back on my bandolier. After a moment, Lisari offers her hand, and I pass it to her. I pull the scarf up over my nose. I rest my hand on my modified smoke potion, ready to pull it free. I can feel my heartbeat pulsing quickly in my fingertips. This is it.

I sit up, getting into position so I can jump down onto Maru, but Lisari puts out a hand. She frowns, tipping her head.

“Wait.”

I tense. Why did she stop me? Does she not want me to go through with this, even now? I don’t have time to wait. The next match could begin any moment, and I’ll be wrenched from my perch and lose my one chance at escape. At life.

At revenge.

“What?” I hiss.

She puts a finger to her lips, then nods below. I grind my teeth, but glance between the swaying cloth, trying to make out whatever Lisari noticed.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I don’t have to look far.

Beneath us, in the center of the room, a pool of blood is bubbling up from the floor. The surface ripples, spreading out across the wood, then rises from the floor in a pillar of red. Someone gives an alarmed shout.

“Ahhh.” Maru drops to a knee, bowing her head. “Lord Widengra. We are graced with your presence.”

Ice shoots through my veins as the living blood shapes itself into a person. Blood runs from their form in rivulets, splashing back down to the floor to reveal green skin and black hair. The man is an orc, like Gugora, but leaner, sharper, and red tattoos swirl over his arms and face in ever changing patterns. No, not red markings: living blood. His head nearly brushes against the fabric hanging beneath us.

“Praise Widengra,” Captain Jules says, sweeping into a bow.

The guards and council members stumble over themselves to hurry around their chairs and throw themselves at the god’s feet, all mumbling similar praise.

Apart from his height and gory tattoos, he wouldn’t appear much different from any other orc. But I can feel the god’s presence like a radiating heat. Only it’s more of an aching numbness. A prickling against my skin, a fear tingling in the back of my mind. Like the first time I encountered Maru, every one of my instincts scream danger.

“What’s this?” Widengra speaks, and his voice is low and rumbling. “I thought we’d have a finalist by now.”

Maru stirs, but it’s Captain Jules who straightens from her bow, first. “I wish to offer you my deepest apologies, your holiness. A few of the candidates were… overeager to prove their devotion and delayed the process. I wish to make an offering in recompense.” She nods curtly to her guards. “My lord, this blood is in your name.”

The guards all stand, stepping around the prostate council members. Then, without any pretense, the guards grab the hair of their council member, yank back their head, and slit their neck.

Static horror washes over me. I gasp, flinching back, but Lisari grabs my wrist, squeezing. Neither of us move. If I jump down there now, I’ll die, I realize.

Talia cries out in horror, twisting away as Jules reaches for her.

“Traitor!” Talia yells, backing away. Rivers of blood splash beneath her shoes. “Treason!”

The god rumbles with laughter. “And to think I was worried I would be bored. What a show you’ve arranged for me, Maru.”

His champion stands. “It’s no doing of mine, Lord. It seems the mortals had schemes of their own.”

Jules flicks a hand toward Talia and two guards seize her, grabbing either arm. I tense, and Lisari’s hand squeezes tighter. No. I can’t stand by and do nothing. I have to help her!

But I don’t want to die.

Self-loathing washes over me as I hesitate, fear holding me back.

Talia struggles for a moment, but she’s clearly no match for the guards in strength or magic. “Why are you doing this?”

“Power, obviously,” Jules says. “The way you always acted as if you were better than the Guard, as if your station gave you any power over us. Maybe if Enrold hadn’t pathetically caved to the Council’s every demand, he wouldn’t have needed to be disposed of, too.” Then she pauses. “Really, now, Talia, a truth spell? Seems a bit pointless at this stage, don’t you think?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Talia says, glancing around wildly. As if any of the guards will realize what they’re doing. As if the god preceding over this whole scene would intervene.

But no one moves to save her.

I don’t move to save her.

Move, I tell myself, but my limbs only tremble. Help her!

Jules draws her sword. “Truthsayers are terribly inconvenient. That’s why your sister was the first I had to dispose of. It was embarrassingly easy to get her guards to leave her unprotected at the right moment. Poetic you’ll be the last to go, hm?” She raises her blade. “My lord, this blood is in your name.”

“No!”

I shatter through my fear in an explosion of movement, leaping from the rafters as I draw my blade. I slash through the cloth overhangs and dive into the room, striking the wood hard and turning it into a roll. Streaks of red splash around as I leap to my feet, diving for Jules.

Her sword is in Talia’s chest.

I scream in fury and fear, slashing at Jules’s arm. She cries out, surprised, and goes stumbling back, her sword pulling free from Talia. Talia collapses to the ground. I fall to her side.

“Talia!” I shout. “Talia!”

She’s alive, but her eyes are darting around wild and unfocussed. Blood bubbles up with each gurgling breath. Red spreads across her torso. I desperately press my hand over the wound, but the blood continues to pour out.

I fumble with my potions, wet fingers slipping over glass, as fear grips me and wrings tears from my eyes. Don’t I have anything that can help? Not a single extra healing potion? No, no I have to be able to do something. What’s the point if I can’t do anything? What’s the point of only brewing things that can kill?

Is this really all I’m good for? Just a cancer that breeds more death?

I grab Talia’s hand and squeeze, rocking back and forth. Helpless.

The moment she dies, I can feel it, all tension leaving her grip.

“Where did you come from?” Jules demands. She narrows her eyes, pausing to take me in. “It’s you. That kid from the inn. What are you doing here?”

I dig my fingernails into the wooden floor and clench my teeth. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want my blade buried in Jules’s chest, in the exact same spot she stabbed Talia. I pick up my knife.

Laughter booms through the room, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

“You did promise the day would be entertaining,” Widengra says.

From this vantage point I can see his eyes: they’re a solid, glossy red. Streams of blood trail down from them, forming the living tattoos that swirl over his skin.

“However, I do not intend to linger here long,” the god continues. “As amusing as this distraction is, we are in need of our new candidate.”

“Apologies, my lord,” Jules says, stepping toward me. “We will resume the tournament just as soon as I tie up this loose end.” She raises her sword.

I scream, feral, angry, and launch myself at her. I don’t want to die. I’m not ready. But neither was Talia. Neither were Terimus and Rena and Layf. And if now is my time, at least I’ll do it on my feet with a weapon in my hand.

“No. Wait,” Widengra says.

There’s a blur of movement. I stab toward Jules, and her swing veers off course. She falls against me as my knife finds her chest. But there’s no cry of pain or shock from her; I stagger out of her way as she slumps to the side, collapsing to the ground. The only part of her that moves is her head as it rolls away across the floor. I stare, stunned.

Maru withdraws her spear, flicking blood from its tip. “My lord?” she asks.

As Jules goes down, the other guards in the room scatter, retreating from the gods. Neither of them seem to notice. We’re nothing more than ants.

My instincts are screaming at me to run, too, but I can feel Widengra’s gaze on me like a physical force trying to crush me into the ground.

[Your interface has been identified,] Echo says.

I take a step back, forcing myself to face him. He’s watching me with a peculiar look. Curiosity, then a frown.

“Ah,” he says. “You’re disguising yourself, hm?” He raises a finger and casually swipes it through the air. “Clever.”

[Permissions changed.]

“What?” I ask. Echo, what do you mean?

[Per—]

Echo stops talking.

“What did you do?” I demand.

Widengra ignores me. “Maru, I thought you’d killed the aberration. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“No, my lord!” Maru objects, aghast. “I swear on my blade, I eradicated the anomaly.”

He frowns at her next, and she bows her head reverently before him. “Ah. Now I see. No, it was not your fault, Maru. Someone is interfering.” He makes another motion, this time toward Maru, but I don’t notice any change, and Echo says nothing.

“Troubling,” Widengra says. “But that should fix it. Now you may have your chance to fulfill your mission.”

Maru looks up, blinking. When her gaze lands on me, it turns hard. “You!” she says, and my stomach drops. “I remember, now. I thought I killed you in the forest with the others.”

Oh, crap.

I don’t understand everything that’s happening, but one thing is as clear as ice: Whatever was keeping her from recognizing me before is gone.

Maru steps forward. “My apologies, Widengra. It seems I did fail my initial task.” She levels her spear at me. “I will not fail you again.”