Chapter 3

The moment the lord announced the rewards from 1st to 10th place, the pace of the run sped up. And as the pace sped up, so did the platform. August had to push himself incrementally faster, but he knew the price would take its toll the longer this goes.

He jogged next to Seven. "Can you keep up?"

"I do not slow down," she said. "My energy remains at full capacity."

{ Remaining Tower Climbers: 98 }

{ Current Position: 85 }

Instead of speeding up, he slowed down away from Seven and the rest of the group until he was in the lower nineties. Shortly after, Seven followed him and asked why. It was a very simple explanation.

He didn't prioritize being in the top place, and he wanted to get out of the populated area. He could also maintain his pace and worry less about if other people might throw him off the platform.

He ran. And he ran. And he continued to run until he started to sweat. The tower climbers trickled down to the nineties, but the deaths also slowed. People either walked the spinning platform or sat down, but they also distanced themselves from each other. Many of them became obstacles, but as they thinned it, it became easier to maneuver around them too.

August had to weave through them and plan the next lap. Seven looked unfazed by everything. She jumped, dodged, and paced him without an inch faster or slower.

"Half an hour," he whispered.

Seven responded. "Thirty-three minutes and seventeen seconds."

{ Remaining Tower Climbers: 87 }

{ Current Position: 87 }

Time passed. August wiped the sweat off his face. "Two hours," he breathed.

"One-hour and fifty-seven minutes."

{ Remaining Tower Climbers: 85 }

{ Current Position: 85 }

"Don't show me the numbers anymore," he said to this thing, and it winked out.

His feet ached. He never had to jog for this long. He had to weave through a lot more people and that in turn burned his legs. He wanted to sit down and breathe.

Then the dim lights blinked out, and he was left in the darkness. "Run blind, tower climbers," the Lord of Trials said. "This is what it takes to climb. Face the uncertainty and the competition."

August heard shouts. He felt it then--people bumped and jostled and cursed and screamed. Many of them panicked so the platform increased its pace. He couldn't see. But he had to see. So he used his arcane earlier and extended his threads as far as he could. He shot it through their legs, their bodies, and especially the space where he had to run.

If the platform was spinning according to their overall speed, that meant that he was in one place the entire time. He breathed in. And out. In and out. Insects, insects everywhere.

August shut his eyes and listened. There it was again--his arcane. Moments like this made him wonder if this was a separate entity. After using arcane so much, he had learned to maintain a 24-hour consistent maintenance of the house.

He didn't consciously try to interact with the world. Instead, he let his arcane think for itself. It spread far, and it didn't stop until the last thread looped back to him. August gasped and smiled. He had covered the entire platform.

"You closed your eyes," Seven observed.

"My arcane helps me see." He glanced at her. Her eyes were glowing red, then white, then green, simultaneously. She moved with ease. Then one of her eye cracked and fizzled and was gone. August extended his arcane toward her. "What happened?"

She didn't stomp his arcane this time. "My parts are failing," she said. "The restrictions placed upon me prevents me to repair to myself."

She took out her eye and was about to throw it away. August held up his hand. "If you don't need it anymore, can I have it?"

She tilted her head. Then, she gave it to him.

The eye was both cold and hot. He tried to feel it with his arcane. It responded by putting up its small defenses, and that fascinated him. This small eye responded to his probe.

Seven tripped over a person. She got up quickly and paced next to him. "Stay behind me," he said.

"I remain functional," she said. "I do not require assistance."

"I can see better. You don't need to watch an entire group of people. You only need to watch my back."

She slowed down until she ran a few steps behind him.

There was something strange about this eye. He distinctly remembered his interaction with Orlan. He must be able to interact with living things more proficiently. He had done that in fifteen minutes, but to a mage, he needed it finish that test in under a minute.

But something had been irking him for a while now. "Seven," he called. "Are you alive?"

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There was a pause. "I am not a living thing. I am an automation powered by arcane."

He breathed in. So she was, but he her intelligence inspired him rather than frighten him. He ran. He probed through the defenses of the eye. It arranged itself like a puzzle. When he was figuring out how to make the hut stand, he had do it in a way that wouldn't strain him too much. His arcane was thick in the foundation, and thinner at the rooftops. There was physical weight that supported him. Analyzing this eye was no different than walking around the house and looking for gaps.

"Two-hours and thirty-nine minutes," Seven said.

People slowed down. He felt more traction on his feet. But instead of the people around him, his arcane seemed more interested in the eye he was analyzing. It helped free himself from the world. A distraction. Something to focus on while he ran.

"Three hours and seventeen minutes," Seven said.

He observed people running. He followed them. He didn't stop and take a breath, though his chest tightened so much and his legs ached with every step. August used his arcane to pull himself forward and easen the weight. But he didn't know how to. He had never been in this position before. All he could think about was to run.

"Four hours," he whispered.

"Negative," Seven replied. "It's only been three hours and thirty minutes."

August groaned.

"Running is pointless!" Someone in the distance said. "Stop running and push people off the edge!"

That person had a point. If August had stopped running, he would circle back to the people that ran and, with enough momentum and skill, perhaps push them off. He didn't want to do that. But the moment those words reached him, other people started implementing the same strategy.

August treated them as predators to look out for. People began to preach morality and survival and helped others and pushed other people off. He heard them behind him. He didn't listen. He focused on his arcane and the eye to keep him distracted.

He didn't know when it happened, but he tripped on something and he stumbled. Someone picked him up.

"Five hours and two minutes," the monotonous voice said. "Keep running."

"Boots," he muttered. "My boots."

He hastily removed his boots, and his feet lightened and he gasped in delight. He removed his shirt and felt the air dance around his skin.

"Five hours and forty five minutes."

He listened to the people behind him. Then as he ran, he heard them in front of him. Arcane was a woozy, drunken sense of outwardness that muddied his perception. He felt less of himself and more of the arcane. He might have slowed down, and he said something to Seven, probably told her to keep running ahead of him.

She didn't.

"Six hours," Seven said.

"I can't run," he rasped. He had been licking his lips, but it was dry. "Tell me when it's over."

He felt something sticky underneath him. And then he slipped. He tasted a pang of iron and the bitter, familiar scent of blood. Seven picked him up again. And then he stumbled forward, and he ran, and he kept going.

Until he heard a deep alarm that resounded across the platform.

"The test has ended," Seven said.

August stopped. The eye felt comforting on his hand. He leaned against Seven, who stood unfazed, and found himself falling down. She supported him. "You must not fall or you my never get up again."

He gave a nod and steadied himself. He looked up.

Light boomed across the platform. The shadowy figure was there again.

"Congratulations, Tower Climbers," the Lord of Trials said. "To those of you who survived, I am impressed. Your audience are impressed."

Audience? August thought.

The man continued. "Many of you may have thought you'll never make it this far. But you did. If you continue to survive in the last two trials, oh believe me, you will be a true climber. Not like these other lords who've gone soft," his voice harshened. "Their little puzzles and games and niceties. Their chubby cheeks and optimistic climbers. They are not climbers. I prefer the ways of the old. Once a fraction of you reaches the next floor, I will be certain in preventing you from becoming embarassments under my governance."

He pointed upwards. "Many Lords stopped climbing the tower. I am one of them. But I am on a more important mission. To find those who has the desire to climb. Again and again and again. Those who ran. Again and again and again. Even in the darkness."

For a moment, August felt a pair of eyes on him, and he shuddered.

"I will now be announcing the top ten climbers who have undoubtedly caught my attention. From the 10th place, ahead by 12 laps from the 11th place...."

August listened numbly.

"...seventh place... sixth...."

"We passed," he told Seven. "That's what's important."

She agreed.

He heard unfamiliar names. Cheers. People seemed happy that they survived. He would be too. He must be in the last place then. At some point, he had slowed down as well.

"3rd place," Lord Meneesh announced. "Ahead by 125 laps from the 11th--Domestic Amelia Model P-07. I expected as much from an automaton. You're not welcome here. But you are a climber. I look forward to seeing you be scrapped to pieces."

"That is part of my mission," Seven agreed.

There were boohs and shouts about how unfair she was for taking the spot of the 11th place. August patted her back. "Don't mind them."

"I don't mind anything," she said. "I don't feel anything at all. I am incapable of emotion."

He smiled. "Never met someone like you." Or them. Or anyone here. He had only ever known the forest, so the world outside never interested him. But this thing--competition--he felt it when he challenged the bears. When he fought them and ran away from them. Everything enthralled him. He felt like a child discovering new spells.

Did Seven circle repeatedly while he ran? But no. She was behind him all the way from the very beginning. But that meant....

"2nd place," Lord Meneesh continued. "Ahead by 125 laps from the 11th--August. Human. You would have made this competition a lot easier if some climbers didn't see you run and jump and dodge with your eyes closed. You lit a competitive fire under them. But now they have their eyes on you. Congratulations."

August didn't believe it at first. But it was real. He looked high up in the black sky and breathed it all in. 2nd place. He'd take it.

"1st place. Ahead by 420 laps--the monster of this trials and the one you all have to watch for--Amaraak. His results speak for itself."

August looked around, but he couldn't see this Amaraak. Everyone was wondering who he was and where he was.

A spotlight appeared at the far end. There was a door there. A platform rose to create a bridge, and arrows appeared on the floor pointing in that direction.

"Now, before the next trial--you must all be hungry, parched, tired, and wounded. There will be food, water, and all manner of liquid and amenities beyond that door. You will be attended by the medical staff to ensure that you're prepared for the next round, which is happening in... oh! In 24 hours. There are 50 of you, I'm sure you're aware. That's still too much." He paused.

"Which is why I'm cutting you down to 25. A 1-versus-1 deathmatch. My favorite! Oh, and for the top 10... your rewards will be processed and given on the other side. Wait for it. And don't die until then."

August practically hugged Seven by her neck as she effortlessly dragged him toward the door. He might not make it through tomorrow if his legs hurt this bad.

{ Time before 1v1 Deathmatch: 23hrs, 59min }