“Hey! Move away from the portal immediately!” Jeff and Fracta stood side by side on a raised platform at the summit of a flat topped ziggurat. Behind them reared a rune-inscribed metallic portal, identical in appearance to the one they had just departed through at the top of the mountain.
Ahead of them, down a short flight of steps lay a semicircular open space. The area was opulently tiled in a similar fashion to the training chamber. Flanking the open space on the left and right were rows of buildings rising to three stories. As Jeff studied them intently he noticed that the structures bore the scars of some ancient cataclysm—they appeared partially melted, as if they had been struck by some sort of powerful energy weapon—nuked in some long forgotten war.
A gap in the grey buildings directly in front of them presented a grand, tree-lined avenue, leading off into the distance.
“Oi! Are you deaf? Get off the portal before we kick you off.”
The sun above them was a blazing orb in a cloudy brown-tinged sky, and the heat was merciless. Recalling Misty’s description of Tantalus’s temperate climate, Jeff frowned. The temperature must have been at least 100 degrees, which, coupled with the extreme humidity, rendered the atmosphere extremely unpleasant. The AI’s glowing description didn’t line up with the reality of this place. Despite the heat, he resisted the urge to de-equip his chainmail for now.
At the foot of the stairs leading down from their raised platform, a motley troop of what appeared to be uniformed soldiers were gathered, some standing and others squatting in the meager shade offered by a couple of ornamental columns. Four of the group of six, including the leader, were humanoid. The other two were respectively a cowled and cloaked avian from whose back sprouted large brown feathered wings, and a four-legged reptilian creature, bedecked in heavy armor plating.
Jeff peered again at the group and now saw the familiar yellow glow of system identification boxes hanging over their heads, indicating that they were Tournament Contestants, the same as himself. He analyzed the character addressing them.
NAME: Bonifak
RACE: Lidell, Stygian Elf,
Grade: I
HIT POINTS (HP): 180/180 +50
MANA POINTS (MP): 50/50
REWARD: 830 Coins
Total Attribute Points (TAP): 189
Bonifak, identified as a Stygian Elf by the system, was the strongest member of the party at what Jeff assumed was early Grade I, with a total number of Attribute Points that vastly outshone his companions.
The rest of the group were all Grade J Contestants with much lower HP and MP, and attribute points totaling on average less than 100.
A distinguishing feature of the entire group, Jeff now noticed, was that all six of them had a complex rune mark on their foreheads. Jeff peered at the brand, trying to match it to other runes in his memory, but was unable to determine its function at first glance.
Jeff, making no move to clear the platform, peered down at the increasingly irate elf below him and, ignoring his truculent tone, enquired politely,
“Hi Bonifak, good day to you. Is this the Tantalus?”
Bonifak was a tall, imposing, dark robed figure. His complexion was pallid, and he seemed to be suffering from the heat of Tantalus—droplets of sweat beaded the ashen skin of his brow and his slate grey eyes squinted in the glare cast by the fierce sun overhead. His elven ears poked through his sand colored hair, which was slicked to his scalp with sweat. The rune emblazoned on his forehead appeared to have been seared into his flesh in some way.
Bonifak replied through gritted teeth, obviously having trouble keeping a lid on his temper.
“Yes! You are in bloody Tantalus… Now clear off the portal before someone else comes through. You don’t want to be occupying the same space when that happens.”
Jeff, seeing the sense in that, decided to not dawdle on the ziggurat any longer. Turning to Fracta, he said, “Let’s find a hotel or inn and rest up. We can work out our next move.”
Fracta signaled her assent, and they both slowly proceeded down the stairs and towards the waiting troop of soldiers.
As they cautiously approached the assembled group of warriors, Jeff picked up on a noticeably tense atmosphere—maybe it was Jeff’s new [Mana Essence] Skill which gave him the ability to read people’s emotional auras, or maybe it was just because something ugly shone in their eyes—a toxic mix of greed and a desire to inflict pain and suffering clearly written across their faces. A number of the party were also looking particularly aggressively at Fracta, gripping their weapons tightly and subtly moving into defensive positions.
One grey faced orc—an imposing figure heavily laden with plate armor and gripping a huge halberd, obviously the tank of the group—broke the silence. His voice was laden with killing intent as he snarled, “no bugs allowed in the inn.”
The winged, hooded character also seemed to take offense at Fracta’s presence, a muttered imprecation emanating from beneath it’s shadowy cowl.
“Not so fast.”
Bonifak moved swiftly to stand in their path, trying to prevent them from leaving the area.
“The law says newcomers must report to Sharkey in the Citadel, for official tax registration and branding,” pushing his pale, sweaty face up close, he continued, staring fixedly into Jeff’s eyes, “no dawdling.”
As the elf spoke, a yellow nimbus flared briefly around his head, the telltale sign that a Skill of some sort had been activated.
For a fleeting moment, Jeff found himself nodding along compliantly to Bonifak’s request.
need to report to Sharkey at the Citadel… must get branded…
But as the impulse swept through him, Jeff felt his Cognition and Defense attributes flex. He realized immediately that he was being manipulated by a powerful mental Skill. At the same time, he felt the Cloak of Distraction tighten subtly around his shoulders, indicating it was performing its function and shielding him from a magical attack.
A system notification appeared in Jeff’s vision.
You have successfully evaded a psi-attack! A hostile entity has failed to control your will!Your Stealth Attribute has risen by 1
Level up!
Congratulations. You have reached Level 2
Reaching out, he placed a restraining hand on Fracta’s flank, pausing her forward movement.
Straightening up to his full height, he glared at the Stygian Elf icily. “You’re starting to irritate me. Move aside. We’ll visit the Citadel when we are good and ready, and not before.”
Fracta, now also recovered from the mental compulsion, followed suit, pushing forward and rearing up on her hind legs, mandibles clashing audibly.
Bonifak, unnerved by the pair’s display of strength and the failure of his mental Skill, stumbled back. His comrades seemed equally nonplussed, muttering amongst themselves ineffectually and exchanging confused glances.
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Jeff and Fracta seized the opportunity presented, and strode past the group and across the flagstone expanse of the square.
Unexpectedly, Misty chose that moment to make a reappearance.
Well done Jeff, and welcome to Tantalus! I knew you’d make it.
Here in Tantalus, you will have a chance to interact with your fellow Tournament Contestants, rest in one of the many luxurious chambers available in the Crystal Citadel, and take advantage of the free food on offer at the fountain in the main square.
When you are ready to proceed on to the next stage of the Tournament, you will find the portal just beyond the rear courtyard of the Citadel.
Caught off-guard by Misty’s sudden reappearance, Jeff took a moment to reply.
“Misty, can you tell me who this Sharkey is, and why we have to report to him in the Citadel?” Jeff asked.
I have no knowledge of an entity named Sharkey, or any requirement by Tournament Contestants to report to anyone in the Tantalus. It’s possible you have been misinformed.
Jeff digested this information silently, then spoke to Fracta.
“Have you heard from your AI yet?”
“Yes, I just spoke with it. It appears the setup here doesn’t quite tally with the information on their database. I think we should proceed with caution.”
Jeff agreed, and they made their way across the sun-baked square. An acidic brown rain had begun to fall, the dirty drops of sulphur-smelling liquid staining Jeff’s clothes and stinging his skin slightly.
The pair headed towards the low slung buildings ahead of them, where they now saw a huddle of Contestants sitting on the sidewalk around the entry to the tree-lined avenue.
As they drew nearer, and Jeff began to discern more details, he felt a chill creep up his spine. Several members of the crowd were in a state of extreme malnourishment—gaunt emaciated features and hollowed out eyes gazed back at them, an assortment of different physiques, most humanoid, others alien—all equally sickly and weak looking.
Fracta slowed her pace. Leaning closer to Jeff she whispered in a low voice, “This doesn’t add up. We were promised free food and lodging by our AIs, but these people are on the edge of starvation.”
Jeff agreed with her, and they moved closer to the crowd to investigate.
A high-pitched yet mellifluous voice called out plaintively from the crowd.
“Food, any food for us? I beg you, kind sir…” The plea came from a large rodent-like creature, her dark brown fur matted and dull. The fur covered female was dressed in tattered rags, and squatted on the dusty ground of the square, arms stretched out imploringly in the universal language of the beggar. The large pouches on either side of her face gave her a slightly comedic look.
Jeff analyzed the chipmunk-featured woman with [Identify] and saw that she was indeed a fellow Tournament player.
NAME: Emwarr Perivel
RACE: Resep, Grade J
HIT POINTS (HP): 40/80
MANA POINTS (MP): 20/50
REWARD: 230 Coins
Total Attribute Points (TAP): 75
Emwarr and the other beggars around her were also scarred, their foreheads branded in the same way as Bonifak and his troop. The raw, crusted scabs covering the brand marks on some of the mendicants indicated they had been recently applied, while others appeared old, the welts healed but still visible.
Squatting down eye-to-eye with the rodent woman, Jeff smiled gently and began speaking.
“We’d be happy to pay for some information with coins or food,” he offered.
Emwarr eagerly nodded, “Sure, sure. tell me what you want to know and I’ll do my best.”
Hearing this conversation, and Jeff’s promise of food, some of the other starving beggars began to shuffle forwards, arms outstretched in anticipation.
Fracta applied herself to crowd control, keeping the increasingly agitated crowd of beggars at bay, while Jeff gave his full attention back to Emwarr, pumping the rodent woman for more information.
"Could you start by giving me a general overview of Tantalus? Its layout and geography.” Jeff requested.
Emwarr cleared her throat and began detailing the layout of Tantalus. Her words flowed in a hurried garble, keen to satisfy Jeff’s curiosity and receive her food reward.
Emwarr described the layout of Tantalus, only pausing when Jeff asked for more details.
"Tantalus is an island, bordered to the East and West by treacherous swamps that lead to impassible mountain ranges," she said. She pointed to either side of her with her clawed fingers to better illustrate her point.
"And as for the North and South, vast bodies of water stretch as far as the eye can see. Contestants have tried to traverse them but never returned."
She paused for a breath before adding, "The Citadel is not actually on the same landmass as the rest of Tantalus. It’s situated on its own island, linked to the mainland here by a narrow, fortified causeway.”
Jeff digested this information, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the strategic significance of the Citadel's position.
“Sharkey rules Tantalus with an iron fist; he controls everything—all the food sources are closely guarded. New arrivals are forced to hand over their inventory storage rings, including all of their weapons. He grants his army and ‘well behaved’ Contestants tokens for use at the gruel fountain in the central square, but keeps the banquet halls in the Citadel strictly for his inner circle.”
Emwarr continued mournfully, “Players like you arrive, but they cannot escape through the exit portal to the next stage of the tournament without Sharkey’s permission. I’ve been here for twenty years, and I doubt now that I’ll ever leave. The best I can hope for is to stay alive as long as I can, to give my people a bit more time before the Vogels return to subjugate them.”
"So, you’re saying that this douchebag, Sharkey, has converted Tantalus into his personal kingdom, with him and his cronies at the top and everyone else scrambling for the crumbs," Jeff summarized, anger punctuating his words. "Without his permission, no one can progress in the Tournament?”
Emwarr nodded, her large brown eyes filled with despair and resignation. "Exactly. And the longer we stay, the weaker we become, and the harder it is to leave. There are tales—rumors of past Contestants who somehow managed to break through the Citadel’s defenses and moved on to the next stage. But as each year passes, Sharkey tightens his grip…”
She paused, murmuring a fatalistic proverb of some kind. “As always, the strong do as they will, and the weak suffer what they must…”
Jeff turned his attention to the brand mark on her forehead. “And those marks on your heads?” He asked, pointing to the rodent woman’s brow.
“One of Sharkey’s methods to control us. The brands are Runes of Pain, linked to a Grade G runic device. From the safety of the Citadel, Sharkey can remotely trigger them and inflict pain, even kill, whenever he pleases.”
A palpable shudder coursed through Emwarr’s hunched frame at the mention of the brands. It was obvious to Jeff that she herself had suffered in the past at the hands of Sharkey.
“Best to give the Citadel a wide berth. Sharkey is…cruel. He regularly holds gladiatorial contests in his fighting pit—fixed fights that are rarely an even match. If you’re feeling brave, consider grinding in one of the two I Grade dungeons that border Tantalus. Extremely dangerous, with a high mortality rate, but some say they are a good source of coins, food and equipment. Or perhaps have a go at scavenging in the swamps.”
“Try not to end up like the rest of us,” Emwarr said sadly, gesturing at herself and the other beggars, before continuing.
“I have let my people down, I can’t fight anymore—I can’t take the pain—but I won’t make a deal with the Citadel, I won’t play along with Sharkey’s wicked games.”
Jeff’s curiosity was piqued by Emwarr’s mention of the dungeons. He was equally intrigued about another peculiarity he had noticed.
“How come nearly everyone is at… the Grade they are? What’s keeping your progression so…stunted?” Jeff attempted to phrase it delicately, but still sounded blunt. “As you’ve been here so long, I would have expected you to have evolved much further by now, at least beyond the J Grade.”
Emwarr sighed before responding. “All of us made the same, fatal mistake—leaving the training phase early, and choosing the fastpass instead of enduring the ascent up the mountain.” She replied.
“The training, the mountain climb and it’s challenges are designed to naturally raise attributes and give Contestants the opportunity to gain Omega Energy. It’s too late now. We’re all stuck, weakened in this wretched state, crippled by hunger and the effects of the Pain Runes, unable to level up.”
“And the dungeons?” Jeff prompted.
“Why not head into the dungeons and grind some more to evolve your Grade, like you suggested we could?”
“Fear,” Emwarr responded simply. “Fear of the wild beasts lurking in the depths of the swamps, fear of falling afoul of the myriad traps in the dungeons, fear of dying at the hands of one of the mobs or Dungeon Bosses and failing my people.”
“I’m a coward!” Emwarr sobbed, suddenly breaking down completely.
“Why was I chosen? I’m useless!”
“There, there…” Jeff said, clumsily trying to console the now openly weeping rodent woman at his feet. Fracta had successfully kept back the gaggle of beggars and now approached, delicately placing a sympathetic pedipalp on the shoulder of the sniveling Contestant.
As Jeff looked around at the other beleaguered World Champions, he saw the same look of hopelessness on each of their emaciated faces.
Accessing his inventory, Jeff pulled out one of the large Roc eggs and pushed it into her hands.
“Here, take this, for your trouble.”
Emwarr gaped down at the magical delicacy cradled in her palms, her despair momentarily forgotten. Her eyes widened still further as she read the System-generated description of the mana imbued food item.
Jeff turned his gaze from Emwarr to the huddled crowd of desperate starving players before him. His initial reaction was tinged with pity, though a faint note of irritation slipped into his voice.
“They seem rather…pathetic,” he muttered, attempting diplomacy but unable to fully mask his critical attitude, a note of condescension in his voice.
Fracta, perceptive as always, caught his meaning and responded gently, almost chiding.
“They’re extremely scared, Jeff. They’ve lost hope,” she whispered. “Let’s hope we don’t end up in the same situation.”
Her words struck a chord, and Jeff nodded, silently acknowledging that her empathy was the correct response to the situation. A twinge of shame rose up within him at his initial, scornful thoughts.
Without another word, he reached back into his ring and produced another huge roc egg. Sacrificing an egg for a whole heap of goodwill seemed like a small price to pay. If he managed to reignite some hope in the crowd, so much the better.
Addressing the expectant crowd of beggars silently standing before them, he extended the egg. “Share this amongst yourselves.”
A chorus of gratitude rang out from the crowd of beggars.
“System blessings upon you both,” intoned one particularly gaunt mendicant as Jeff and Fracta turned to leave.
Emwarr, wiping her eyes, called out one last piece of advice.
“Watch out for your spider friend, Jeff. Sharkey and his followers have a particular hatred for arachnids and insectoid species.”
Fracta dipped her antennae in gratitude toward the rodent woman, and both she and Jeff turned to look back across the length of the square, where Bonifak and his soldiers still remained. The squad had been glaring at them silently all throughout their exchange with the beggars, only now turning away to deal with another group of newly arrived Contestants stepping through the portal. Jeff noticed that the malevolent winged creature was nowhere to be seen. He guessed that Bonifak must have sent it off to relay news of their arrival to the Citadel.
Exhausted, and feeling the pangs of hunger themselves, they wasted no more time. Jeff and Fracta left the square containing the entrance portal, and passing between the gap between the vacant buildings, began walking along the tree lined avenue.