The ship and the sea sank, eaten by the sands below, and consumed once more by the grounds of the colosseum. It was a sudden affair. One minute, Colt was staring at the Goddess aboard a rocking ship, and the next, he was knee-deep in the sand of the arena. She simply smiled pleasantly as she took away reality; Colt got a brief glimpse at bloated Satyr corpses before the sand ate those up, too.

Then, she too faded away, taken by the return of the divine void around them; the glowing, radiant light a veil from all the spectators and the chaos outside.

Once more, the owl cut through the light, landing right before them.

Nike manifested once more as a woman with dark hair and a wide smile.

“You guys did it!”

Colt gave her a weary look, listening with one ear while he invested the newly gained fifteen stat points. This was serious; they’d had a good advantage with Julia in the last round and him with the objective of being able to slice through the enemy’s boats and sink them.

Next? If it were a straight-up one-on-one or something similar with a far more powerful foe?

Colt spent all fifteen of his points in one place. Soul.

For a second, his vision doubled; the sense of the threads weaving around them became crystal clear. The Edicts flowing through the air here were numerous, an infinity in complexity as he felt Athena tug at the laws behind the scenes that made up their present moment. He gawked as he glimpsed a shadow of the forces at play. Edicts that could level a town, Edicts that could level a state, maybe, all bent to the whims of a silly little game.

The feeling and awareness faded; Nike snapped a finger in front of his face.

“Sheesh. It’s like he doesn’t even care what I have to say.”

“No, I do, I just… That was more than I expected. I spent my stats. I’d recommend everyone else does the same.”

“Well, that is prudent. You’re all, simply put, under-leveled. Take any advantage you can get. You know, there’s this quote; ‘history is written by the victors,’ and in my experience, those victors don’t usually share all of what it takes to win. Seize every opportunity, my little champions, because you will need it for the next two games.”

“Spill then, and quit being all obsessed with Colt. It’s weird,” Sarah said.

Nike held a hand to her mouth and put a shocked expression, “I do not play favorites!”

“Come on, you keep messing with him and staring. I don’t know why; even if he wasn’t paying attention, you could’ve already started telling us the next game. Not waiting politely to harass him.”

What?

“A goddess does what she wishes. Besides, I think he and the guy who shoots arrows have the best shot of making it out of here. Far be it for the goddess of victory to consort with or care about likely losers—“ Nike gave her a mean grin, then pulled back; wings sprouted out of her back, jet-black like her hair, only for the Goddess to give them a flap and shoot up, hovering above. “So, the next game.”

“The next game.” Sarah prompted.

“Is—capture the flag. Only there’s one flag. It’s in a fort. Your job? Get past all of the guards, get the flag, and then return to the goal area with it. That’s it. You do that, and you win. There’s a time limit, though—two hours. You take longer than that, and you’ll lose. If you lose, you’ll be smitten by the Goddess herself, so you ought to avoid that at all costs.” Nike glanced behind her and then back at them. “Mhmm. We have a few minutes, I think. I’m being given the okay to restore mana to those who need it. Set-up on this one takes a little bit. Not as easy as conjuring some water and ships. Also got to hype the crowd up, get them invested.”

With that, a pulse of black light shot out from her; it slid over Colt like oil over water. For Nick and Julia, though, they seemed to drink it in.

Both look surprised and a lot more refreshed.

Nike gave one last flap and then landed again—right next to Colt, who she threw an arm around.

“You’re doing it again,” Sarah said.

“He has my first Edict. When I was a little owl, it was the first one I got. Sue me for favoritism. Not like it matters. I think you’re liable to die in the next round or two anyway.” Nike snorted.

“She won’t be dying,” Colt shook his head, “Besides, weren’t you allowed to offer us one piece of advice to ‘find the path to victory,’ anyway?”

Nike tapped her chin, “Oh, I didn’t do that, did I? Ah, well, here’s this; the challenge will take place at night. Meaning you have some options for how to tackle the fort. I’m of the opinion that your best option is what I like to call Sacrifice. Sometimes, someone’s gotta die for you to get the gold. In this case, I think it should be that lady. Set her out in front, have her make some noise, go out like a hero, then you can slip in and steal the flag.”

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

Sarah balled her fists, and Nate arrived at her side, holding her back. It was an absurd idea to try to fight a goddess, but with Nike digging under her skin, Colt felt a cold, sinking fear that it might go that way.

Redirect.

“Say, Nike. Victory; is it important how you win, or only that you win.”

“Only that you win.” With a shake of her head, Nike said, “Obvious answer.”

“Right. But what is victory; what if we don’t win if one of us dies.”

“I think that maybe you should evaluate who you’re setting out to win. People hate this truth, but sometimes, only one person can win. You must do whatever you can to make sure that person is you. Lose sight of that and let yourself get dragged down by others? That’s just limiting your success. C’mon, Colt. I feel it in you. The spirit is there. Victory at all costs is still a victory.”

The words rang too true to him; it was a lesson his mother kept trying to teach him when he was young. If he sat here and thought over who these people were, if they really should mean anything to him, he’d be doing it through her eyes.

Colt was his own person. And would do things his own way.

“Maybe your idea of victory isn’t enough. Maybe you should aim higher.”

Nike shoved him away. The sudden force was instant, an absolute whirlwind of movement that sent him spiraling into the sand. Colt tumbled, relying on every bit of his dexterity to catch himself and come out of it without being hurt. When he came to a stop, now on the ground fifteen feet away, Nike was scowling at him. The rest of his group was on guard, weapons raised, and panicked.

They couldn’t fight a Goddess. And that had just been a casual shove from her.

“Are you saying I’m not aiming high enough?”

“I’m saying I would expect you to be more ambitious as the Goddess of Victory. Is a hollow victory still a victory?” Colt prodded.

“I can achieve anything I wish.”

“Then why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t your advice on how to find our path to victory be a complete one?”

At this, she paused, the gears churning in her head. Her scowl deepened. She looked to the radiant white void surrounding them, then back at Colt.

“I know what you’re doing.” She said.

Colt offered nothing in response, just a leveled stare.

“Fine. I like the grit.”

She beckoned with her hand; Colt was swept forward, back next to her. Yanked from space itself and physically moved in an instant. He felt it; the air was thick with the workings of the Movement Edict. Powerful enough to radiate in his soul like a gong banged in an empty hallway.

Before he knew it, Nike had her lips cupped to his ear, a twinkle in her eye as she whispered a question: “Do you know what an Icon is?”

###

It was a bit longer than five minutes—more like twenty—and then, inevitably, the white void vanished once more. Nike took the form of an owl and flew off, returning to her master's shoulder. She did so in the depths of a black night.

Above was only a canopy of stars; the stadium that had been ever present in the fight was gone. Hidden and obscured in a deep black shadow that wrapped around the colosseum. What was apparent as the white void was swept away was the existence of a new, massive structure at the far end.

The first thing that came to view was the firelight and how it cast shadows on the brick wall. Braziers and torches. In those shadows, Colt could see monsters patrolling around the walls. Not goat-men, but they looked close to humans from this distance, nearly indistinguishable.

“We’re going with her plan?” Sarah said, unbelieving.

“She wants us to win.” Colt pointed out, his eyes tracking the shadows on that wall. Just like she said, ten of them. This time, Nike had stretched what giving ‘one piece of advice’ meant since she’d fed them a whole game plan for, as Colt called it, a complete victory.

The consequence is they were probably screwed for advice on the next round. Probably.

He’d rather take the inside horse on this one and stand a chance of them all living to see the next round than for them all to die.

Sure enough, as he watched the shadows on the wall for a precious minute, it became clear there were too many to take. Even if they were at the same level as the goats on the boats, the sheer number of them up there with that kind of advantage would decimate them. These would be higher levels, more danger, but also more reward.

Colt looked at the whole group and rolled his shoulders. The plan wasn’t so different from what Nike had said before; instead of ‘sacrifice,’ the idea was ‘distract, delay, and dispose.’ The three words which he hoped would carry them to victory. “You all know your parts?” Colt asked, looking each of them in the eye.

This was a lot of trust for him. Nick gave him a thumbs-up, “Yessir, dont’cha worry. I’ll be right here for when they start chasing. We’ll tag-team and run.”

Nate gave him a soft nod. “Stealth team will be successful. Don’t worry.”

“Alright then. Let’s not waste any more time.” Colt stood up and shook out his arms, staring at the fort in front of them. The key difference between plan Sacrifice and plan Distract was whom exactly was going up to the fort and getting their attention. Nike gave Sarah an odds of about ten to survive the situation. Colt and Nick? About fifty-fifty, she said. Basically a coin toss.

Luck, though, was for things like tossing a coin, not this. And Colt didn’t care for her to put fake odds on him living through the situation. He would make it because that’s what he had to do.

But…

He glanced at Nick; the man wasn’t smiling, and his hands were shaking. Colt would do what he could to make it through this, but he’d also have to do his best to make sure his allies survived, too. That much was the part that worried him.