Chapter 63

Mario's voice boomed from speakers recessed around the arena. The rapture on his face, as he held the attention of the crowd, made me wonder what he loved more. The spotlight? Or is Oracle?

"Noble citizens of Boston, and esteemed guests from afar, welcome at last to this, perhaps the grandest spectacle in the Choosing! Today it is the Tower of Babel that will test these children of Oracle! It is the Tower that they can use to show their worth. The Tower is the altar where they can lay their faith down and measure it against each other's. The Tower is a challenge that can lay out the Oracle's judgment in one sweeping spectacular moment. The Tower can doom all, ending this Choosing and leaving us to start anew. The Tower can see fit to pass all of these souls to the next round."

The crowd roared in approval and excitement. At last, he was getting to the point. His endless blathering had finally arrived at what they'd come here for. "Now, for the rules. Our contestants must understand the conditions under which they are tested! And you, the holy masses, must understand the sacrament you are about to observe."

He raised a hand, demanding silence. For a change, it mostly worked. The volume of the crowd receded. Sections still seemed to ignore him, their roars in no way diminished. But most of the crowd grew quiet if for no other reason than to ease him through the last of his endless nattering.

"Firstly," he began, "at the two-hour gong, any contestant below the painted line will be disqualified! If none rest above the line at the gong, then the Oracle deems all unworthy and the Choosing begins again with new children! Any above will progress the next round."

The crowd murmured. These were the kind of stakes they could get excited about.

Mario boomed, "From the very outset of the competition, a glowing line, projected from lamps, will begin to climb the tower. This line will ascend steadily until it joins with the painted threshold! A contestant cannot be below this line for more than ten seconds without being eliminated! No part of a combatant may remain below the line for ten continuous seconds without the consequence being elimination!"

He paused. He loved this so. It was as though he believed they were here for him and not us. He behaved as though he thought he was the main event.

"Combatants are free game for one another. Without any restrictions on attributes or alliance. Today, anything is permitted, our worthy hopefuls are not constrained in any way! Any means is allowed to attack or hinder fellow competitors. There is no reason for more than one to survive the top of the tower save for a lack of commitment! A lack of will!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts. Flags spin wildly in hands. Banners, even more of them baring my name than the last day, whip madly in the air. They think it is time for the show to start. They have underestimated how much Mario enjoys their delicious attention. Mario allowed the noise to wash over him, a satisfied smile on his face.

"But!" he called out, raising a hand in a manner so patronizing, "When the gong rings, all attacks are to cease immediately under penalty of elimination! This is a competition, not a slaughterhouse. The safety of our contestants, as much as can be managed, is still a priority. So remember, at the sound of the gong, all fighting stops!"

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He paced the stage. Maybe he was mistaking the crowd's rageful impatience for an excited frenzy that he was building.

"In all other manners, this is a free-for-all. Climb, fight, strategize—do whatever it takes to stay in the game. Everything you do is for the Oracle. The Oracle judges. Keep in mind, falling from this height is unlikely to kill you because of the protection of your suits, but crippling injuries are a real possibility. And… a fall from the highest point is potentially fatal even with the armor. Our esteemed Griidlords have other duties to attend to today, and thus, none can be present to save you. You are on your own!"

"So, contestants," he roared, arms spread wide as if to gather the attention of them all, "prepare yourselves! This is the ultimate test of your abilities, your resolve, and your desire to become the next Sword of Boston. May the best among you rise to the top, and may the Oracle be with you all!"

With that, Mario stepped back, his arms still raised to the sky. The crowd was at the breaking point. Young men stood on the railings, daring gravity to take them to their graves, as they waved at us. They called to us. They called our names. They called my name.

So many of them called my name.

Mario stood poised, the flag raised high above his head. This was not exactly what I had expected. The Tower of Babel loomed above, every surface creating a daunting path to the top.

Again, this was a competition that could theoretically end The Choosing.

If Lance could position himself well enough, there was a chance he could prevent any of the rest of us from reaching the safety line. I didn't think for a moment that such a notion hadn't crossed his mind. Like with the pots, he would press the advantage he had gained in developing his attributes to try and bring a close to the tournament. If nothing else, I was sure he would focus his efforts on me. He knew I was a threat, that in another day or two, there would be a chance I could surpass him again.

The climbing light line was also a fly in my ointment. I had been mulling the idea of just hanging back, playing a game I had played before, focusing on flexing skills until the final minutes and then, hopefully, with newly leveled attributes, making a dash for the line. I won't pretend that, depending on my success in leveling, it was playing in my mind to play Lance's game and focus on him, trying to eliminate him from the competition completely. But all of that had faded. I would need to stay with the ascending line at least, and as the tower rose, it grew narrower. This would force us to tangle with each other more and more as we went up.

The crowd's cheers faded into a low hum in the background as my attention narrowed to the task at hand. I glanced around at the other contestants. Lance stood with a determined look, his eyes fixed on the tower. Gideon, Katya, and Lauren each appeared focused, their minds likely racing with strategies of their own.

Mario's voice boomed one last time, "Contestants, prepare yourselves!" The flag hovered in the air, a breath away from signaling the start.

I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. This was it. The competition had been fierce, but today felt different. Today felt like a turning point. While there was a chance that all five us could make it through to the next day, in all likelihood one or more would be ejected today. And, unlike the other days when there had been weaker elements present, today all that was left were contestants that each could have been described at one point or another as a possible favorite.

My left wrist throbbed, a reminder of the injury that could hinder my performance, but I pushed the pain aside. There was no room for doubt, no time for hesitation.

Mario's hand moved. The flag lifted on the breeze and lofted briefly before tumbling to the earth.

And we were off.