MENEESH

They won?

It was just a passing thought. A distraction, a small gamble. He didn't expect anything amazing in particular to happen. But they did it. And not only did they do it, this August successfully accomplished a second resonance with a different teammate.

It baffled him.

Meneesh preened at the results. Next to him, Lady Essa had clutched on the rails the entire match. She bore a focused glare at the climbers below, and a bead of sweat ran down her cheek.

"That shouldn't be possible," she seethed. "There could be foul play."

If any manipulation of the matches is involved, it would be us, dear. And we lost.

"I would have known," Meneesh said instead. "Now, will you honor your word?"

He quietly cheered at the other team. For the entire match, the Knight Mage relied entirely on his ability and the potions he carried. He never adapted or seeked a better position.

Not to mention he stood there like a damn statue that it irritated Meneesh. The boy had potentional! But he was too cautious, too sheltered, and he was afraid of these people who wanted to draw blood. The boy looked utterly horrified, though no one noticed it.

It hardly matters anymore.

Putting the matter of Tulet aside, he could now continue with his project. Up on the second floor, he'd be sponsor his fledgeling survivors in the future standard matches. They needed info bracelets, durable clothes, and a captain to man the ship they were about to undertake.

And, he supposed, it was time for Aeladine to take a trip to the upper floors and guide these young wolves.

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AUGUST

The next several hours passed by rather quickly. August was taken to the medical room to be administered drugs, blood, and other enhancements and painkillers. They noted, with a touch of frustration, that he shouldn't ever use his arcane for the next week. His arcane was fried.

Then, they told him to sleep it off. Which he did, gladly. He didn't really had the time to celebrate when he was so exhausted, and he was glad that Lord Meneesh let all the climbers be taken to the medical room and be given proper rest first.

Seven was not granted the same privileges. She was left battered, injured, with a few screws loosed and gears spinning in her stomach. But he was too tired to think, so he collapsed on his bed, and he fell asleep.

The August of tomorrow would deal with everything.

Around ten to eleven hours later, he blinked his eyes awake. "An unfamiliar ceiling," he whispered. He was no longer at home. He wouldn't return to his hut anymore. He would live here in the tower for several years to come.

He made a mental list of what he wanted to do. After a few minutes, he changed his mind and brought up the info bracelet instead. He had 50,000 credits, which should cover his survival necessities if he needed to.

He wanted to investigate the connection he felt between Seven and Quann. And then inquire about the nature of his status, personal identification, the details regarding arcane and why so many people used staffs, spears, and shields branching off to many variations.

He turned around, finding comfort on the bed, only to find Seven sitting by a chair, staring at him with unblinking eyes. August yelped, shut his mouth, and stared back.

"Hello," he said.

"Greetings," she replied.

He looked around. No one was here except the two of them. Seven was still battered and damaged. She needed to repair herself, otherwise future engagements would leave her crippled and dead. He wondered why she was here though, so he asked her.

She gave a tilt of her head. "I addressed my behaviors these past eight hours since I sat here and decided that I am functioning sub-optimally. I have no recollection nor history of logical reasoning of why I am here, simply that I am." She stood up. "But I do not wish to disturb you. I congratulate you for sleeping and giving your body time to recover. I shall take my leave."

August reached out for her hand. She stopped. "Do you have other things you have to do?"

She glanced at the timer. Thirty minutes was counting down. That might be the announcement. "I am not pre-occupied with oher activities."

"Stay here for a bit," he said. "Keep me company. How's the eye we fixed?"

In response, Seven sat back down and took out her eye. She passed it to him. "It's not functioning at full efficiency, and the degradation of the arcane mesh is progressing at a rapid rate. It will most likely require a full maintenance once per week.

August studied the eye. He asked for her tools, and while he would love to follow the medical team's advice on not using his arcane, a little bit going into the tools should be fine.

For the next fifteen minutes, she gave him instructions on how to re-open the eye. He'd forgotten already, so he took more 3-dimensional notes and kept track of the construction of the eye using the info bracelet.

Seven pointed out the problem and advised him to take out the arcane mesh. After a few twists and plucking out the smaller, intricate parts of the eye, he took out the mesh. This was pure arcane glued together by a small device, similar to Tulet's arcane armor.

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Seven called the device an ice-core, and it was used to store arcane as an energy source for all sorts of general appliances and military uses. The ice-core didn't have any problems, but the mesh was torn and some of the threads were missing.

So, he did what he did best. With her instructions, he re-constructed the mesh using the info bracelet's 3-dimensional notes, and then started to apply small threads there first. Then, once he felt like the threads mimicked the original mesh, he started to work on the original mesh.

After ten more minutes of quiet work, he was re-assembling the eye. He gave it back to Seven, who tested it, and stared at him. "How was it?" he asked.

"Mm," she said.

He expected her to say something like affirmative or functioning at 100% efficiency. Instead, Seven stood up, looked around, touching her eye, studying it. She turned to him.

"You have performed repairs that I would not be able to do myself. I believe that, to achieve my goal of climbing the tower, I have to consider what it truly means to drastically increase my chances of success. I will offer my services however I can as long as you aid me in repairing my parts, and I will continue to do so until the day we part or your goals differ from mine. Is this agreement acceptable to you?"

August snorted. "Seven, we're friends. You make it sound like we're writing up a contract."

She nodded. "Is that not optimal?"

"I don't know the culture," he said honestly. "All that talk is making my head spin. I don't want to help you because I'm expecting something in return. I do it because I want to. We'll be climbing the tower together anyway. And if our goals don't align, well, we'll cross that bridge when that time comes."

She sat down at the bed. "Very well. Okay. Understood. These terms are acceptable." A pause. Then, "Being with me increases your chances of survival by a significant margin."

"Of course."

"As such, it is important that you don't make the same mistake as I did, and remain near me at all times."

"Hm?" He frowned.

Apparently, remaining near her at all times meant taking his hand and being pulled where she wanted to go. And right now, she wanted to be in the cafeteria to meet up with Quann and team up with him.

Her hold over his hand was firm. "Seven, I'm not going anywhere. Your hand..."

"I am confident you shall not run off to do human activities that may decrease your chances of cooperation," she said, and ended the conversation there. It seemed like she wasn't going to let him pull his hand away as an answer.

They saw Quann lounging at a table alone, along with the four other teams scattered around the dining hall.

Once August and Seven sat down on the other side, Quann glanced at his hand. Seven was still holding it. He raised an eyebrow.

"Are you two a thing?" he asked.

August sighed. "Can you be more specific?"

Seven added, "I don't understand the question."

Quann seemed slightly irritated and explained how couples worked. Apparently, holding hands was a sign of affection, though August could only feel the coldness between their touch, and the sensation felt more like holding a piece of metal than skin.

And they were friends, so affection seemed appropriate.

Seven eventually let go of him and placed her hands on her lap, listening intently to Quann while he diverted his conversation to talk about the other groups.

The survivors here, thankfully, weren't as judgemental as the climbers before. Yura, for one, had given him a nod when they locked eyes. Nilvar waved cheerfully. The two children with Judah weren't staring daggers at him.

Quann, however, maintained a level of notoriety that prevented other climbers from approaching him. The swordsman from Nilvar's team started calling him the Torturer.

After several minutes, the counter pinged, and Lord Meneesh strode to the dining hall. "Congratulations, climbers," he said. He then spewed the same praises he did in the first trial, much of which August guessed were formalities rather than true, genuine praise.

But when it came to gifts, he had staffs give the climbers what he thought might help them in the future, stressing the importance of surviving under Lord Meneesh's trials, and he wouldn't let any of them embarass him.

Each of the climbers were given an info bracelet, and while they weren't as good as August received, they performed the basic, necessary tasks like a profile, status, contacts, and notes.

August still haven't explored all the other features of his info bracelet which was worth an exploration later on.

Then, Lord Meneesh excitedly added that one of his staffs would be taking their measurements. They would be given a set of clothes, packs, belts, and 10,000 credits each, giving August a total of 60,000 credits."

"The clothes are specialized," he said. "They're more durable than what you have now and easily repairable. But they do have a theme to them.... black and red. I'll also be giving each of you a list of upcoming amateur standard competitions, hotspots for matches, and locations pointing to potions, equipment, restaurants, anything else I would recommend. Treat it as a guide to survive the second floor. I expect you'll be staying there for quite some time given the ruckus that is happening in the 3rd floor. Some of the lords and knights I know have even chosen to stay away from there. But what else can we do when the god of a floor dies?"

August leaned closer to Quann. "What happened?"

He grimaced. "Something nasty. I don't know."

Lord Meneesh continued. "Now, before I allow you depart, you're free to switch teams, go solo, and select a leader. Being together gives you more chances of success. There's rarely a solo that can stand on its own, and those who have, would have surely fed the soil six feet under. So feel free to eat as much as you want. Tomorrow, you'll ascend to the 2nd floor."

When he left, August, Quann, and Seven looked at each other. Other groups were already discussing who their leaders would be, and while he wouldn't relish on taking over the role, he felt as if he'd done enough in the trials to plan their future encounters against other people.

He said so to Quann, who scoffed. "We won't be in combat situatons a hundred percent of the time. Have you considered where we would live? How we'll survive in the upcoming months? We don't have any source of income at the moment. How will you manage that? I've been taken to some of the upper floors, and I have contacts in the 2nd floor. I'll be the leader."

He made good points. But what he mentioned were basic necessities August could learn on his own in due time, and Seven could too. Given the nature of the trials before this, he'd expect future engagements to mostly revolve around combat.

Seven chimed in. "I disagree. I wish to be the leader of the group. I am, after all, logical, and I do not fall to traps as easily as any human being that existed."

Quann pointed out, "You left your friend alone, didn't you?"

"That was the logical course of action at the time," she defended. "I may also add that I have since learned from my mistake, unlike humans who must correct themselves several times without an accurate degree of success in changing their behavior."

Seven wouldn't budge. Neither did August and Quann. And so the three of them talked over each other back and forth for several minutes. People began to glance at them.

"We're not going anywhere with this," Quann said.

August nodded. "We need to settle this in a way that will leave all of us satisfied."

They thought over it a bit more, until Seven responded. "What if we play a game?"

That could work. "That's a good idea," he said. "But hold that thought. I'm hungry."

He stood up to grab a food, and then it occured to him: "What if we have cook off?" he said. "Best food wins. Simple, right?"

Seven perked up at the idea. "I am a domestic automaton. Cooking is one of my specialities."

Quann pursed his lips.

August continued. "And I've cooked my food my entire life."

They looked at each other. A silent agreement dawned between them, until Quann stood up, and quietly walked over to the dining staff.

Well, at least he was enthusiastic.

"This is pointless," Seven said, and even if her voice was emotionless, he could feel a sense of pride bloom with her words. "I have already won."

"We'll see," August said.

Quann turned to face them. "Don't back out now," he said.

After being given a thumbs up, they all strode to the kitchen.