WARNING: This chapter contains a character behaving in a way, and performing actions, that could be construed as suicidal. I did not intend to convey the character's actions/attitudes in this manner, but please be advised.

Thanks to elephasmaximus23 for the assist.

Chapter 47

As I turned to explore another corridor, I heard a crackling sound behind me. I spun around to see Lance nailing Katya with his BEAM attribute. The energy blast struck her squarely, sending the orb she had been racing with flying through the air. Lance snatched it easily, his movements fluid and confident, before tossing it into his pot with a casual flick of his wrist.

Katya's posture was one of dismay, an expression so unusual given her usual aloofness and fiery demeanor. To see her disheartened like that tugged at something within me. Lance now had scored twice, while the rest of us had failed to score at all. I truly began to wonder if maybe he could do it, if he could find a way to end the competition today. With his improved firepower, it seemed almost possible that no one could get past him.

I was conflicted. While her talk of marriage felt like a joke to me, I had grown a little closer to Katya over these days. My life hadn't afforded me the opportunity to have friends. Katya might have been an oddly shaped peg, but she was starting to fit into that hole. I didn't want to see her eliminated, but at the same time, I couldn't reach my goal without it. I wanted to help her, but I needed to help myself.

Katya brushed herself off, her movements regaining some of their usual grace, and danced down a corridor in search of a new orb. I turned and raced down another corridor myself. Two orbs rested in Lance's pot; eleven remained to be captured. The pressure was mounting, and the stakes were higher than ever. Every step, every decision, could mean the difference between triumph and elimination.

The narrow walls of the passages passed my vision as I raced. The builders had done a remarkable job. They had built a true labyrinth in the space available. Wide open rooms and endless snaking corridords. I quickly felt so disoriented that I felt like the space I was sprinting through was many times the size of the actual arena floor.

As I moved my heightened sense did nothing to comfort me. HEARIGNG bombarded me with the terrifying screeches and growls of fiends beyond what seemed like every wall. The grunts and crys of the other combatants were picked up the suits ears and pumped into my brain. SCENT, when I chose to turn it up, only rewarded me with the disturbing scents of fiend, blood, sweat and burning.

Suddenly I was in a wide open space. A large room. Beyond the walls I could still hear the thumping of feed and the echoes of screams. But here there was nothing but me and the pedestals. Four pedestals were arrayed before me, made of stone. Each supported one of the orbs we coveted so. And each orbs was hazed and obscured by a shimmering field of some kind.

I approached cautiously. I needed to keep moving, I could sense the urgency. But the fields gaze me pause. The haze around the orbs seemed to ripple as I drew nearer, like the surface of a disturbed pond. I reached out ,my fingers inching towards the closest orb. As soon as my hand breached the haze, a searing pain shot through my fingers. My hand began to char and smoke. I flexed SHIELD into being, but it did little to stop the onslaught of fire.

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I yanked my hand back. I hissed through my teeth as I felt my own skin bruning beneath the surface of the suit. The fingers of my suit were blackened and smoldering. Even now, small tendrils of smoke rose from the damaged area.

I stared at the hazy shield in bitter frustration. If my SHIELD was higher, maybe there would be a chance. The four orbs, four opportunities to pass the round, were so close but so infinitely out of reach.

I circled the pedestals, examining them from different angles. There was no opening, no weakness anywhere. I tried to use CUT on the stone pedestal itself, to see if it would crumble, releasing an orb, but my sword rebounded leaving not the slightest mark.

I understood now why Gideon had brushed past me with a suit smoking and blackened.

I was wasting time. None of us could reach the orbs. They would keep. And there were four of them in any case. I could spend my time better elsewhere.

As I exited down the winding corridor and into the main chamber, a new scene of chaos greeted me. Lauren lay on the ground, her suit sizzling and sparking from a slash mark across her chest. Lance was depositing yet another orb in his pot.

I shot him a disgusted, rage-filled look. He was operating within the rules of the competition, but it felt like he had twisted them out of all concept of their original intent. His tactics were brutal, aiming not just to win but to crush his competitors entirely.

Without wasting another second, I flew down a new corridor, one I had yet to see anyone using, and streaked down the narrow passage. The walls closed in around me.

The new chamber was wider than the one with the Bearwolf, but the floor had been dug out, probably done quickly and easily using excavating equipment when the order level was elevated here the previous day. There was only a narrow edge of ground between the walls of the chamber and the pit. Dangling above the pit, hanging from a narrow chain, was an orb. A contestant would need to leap across the pit and land on the other side, as the chain was far too light to bear the weight of a contestant.

I saw Zara standing at the edge of the pit in front of me, peering down in hesitation. I walked up beside her, not standing too close, not wanting to expose myself to a sudden attack. She was looking down into the pit, and when I joined her, my blood chilled. There were a dozen wolflings down there. Despite the diminutive name, these were monsters at least as big as a man. Lauren and I had defeated one together, and at this point, with my powers grown, I was confident I could defeat one, maybe even two. But the army of pacing, snarling monsters far below meant certain death.

Zara became aware of me, looked at me. I prepared to defend myself, but her mouth, visible beneath the line of her helm, was curved down—not determined, not rageful, just deflated. She said, "I may as well give it a try."

I said, "Isn't that what we're here for..." but her tone was oddly flat, devoid.

She said, "I never really had a chance anyway. When the Choosing started, there were always the haves and the have-nots. I'm the last of the have-nots, the ones that were never really in the contest. I've done well, I think, to still be here, but Mother won't see it that way... They can't afford to repair the east tower, they can't afford to replace the stables... I might as well try."

She backed up from the edge of the pit, eyes fixed on the orb.

I said, "Zara, maybe you should reconsider. I mean, there's a difference between losing the round and getting yourself killed."

Her voice was bitter now. She said, "You were like the rest of us, hopeless. You could barely stand up against Olaf at the start. When you started growing, it gave me hope. I kept waiting for something to happen, for me to start gaining attributes so I could keep up with the others, but it didn't work like that for me or the others, just for you."

Then she started to sprint toward the pit. I felt like I was witnessing something much darker than a desperate attempt; what I was seeing was a dark surrender.

I bellowed, "Zara, wait!" but she didn't hear me. Her last stride met the edge of the pit and she leapt.