It turned out that Rhuna really did sneak her forces in through the sewers. The pact must have been on the lookout for illusory walls, not ones that were organically bricked over. The lioness didn’t even need to push past her assembled throng of undead as they all fell in line to both sides of the sewer without prompting.

Rye didn’t like the look in their eyes. It was too eager, too full of life for dregs.

“If you’ve got any last-ditch escape attempts to try and fail at, now’s the time,” Rhuna said, taunting.

Rye grit her teeth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Because fleeing would imply the death of all she loved. Of all that Elia loved.

She stepped on through and was immediately buffeted by a wave of noise. All around there were hundreds, thousands of undead, so many that they were spilling out of the ridiculously oversized dome she found herself in.

The dome of the twelve, Rye thought. Where the twelve pontiffs give voice to the gods.

They were in the old part of the capital, High Loften, where the greatest leaders of the eternal empire once made great sacrifices and listened to the words of the gods. And Rhuna had made it her own.

She raised a single fist and cried. “Victory!”

“Victory!” echoed the undead in uncanny unity. “Rhuna! Victory! The greatest, the greatest ascender of them all!”

Rhuna laughed while Rye stared on in horror. This was what the pact was up against? They could barely hold back Rhuna herself.

I made the right choice. I protected everyone.

Everyone but herself, and Elia.

Elia. She could not know what was going on; she was still relaxing inside the dream, trusting that Rye would wake her up if she could not handle herself. Dammit, Rye needed to talk to her, but hubris and god-sickness had taken that chance.

One of the undead fell out of line, dropping to its knees right in front of them. “Please, mistress Rhuna. I have been good, I killed in your name, pillaged and plundered. Please, grant me an a-a-autograph.”

All the undead grew silent. For a moment Rye was certain that Rhuna was going to kill this man. Slowly, she side-eyed the lioness, and found her smiling.

Rhuna pressed her thumb down on the undead’s shoulder, warping flesh and leaving an imprint the size of Rye’s hand. The dreg had a look in their eyes as if they had been touched by Worga herself.

They worship her, Rye thought.

And that alone was terrifying.

It dawned on her that she would have no allies here. There would be no escape if Rhuna found out she was not actually Elia. One mistake would lead to a fate worse than death.

Valti is discomfited

Unless…

Another cheer went through the crowd. But Rye found herself distracted and enraptured by the beautiful architecture contrasting the dirty dregs. More so than any other dome Rye had ever seen, the inside of the dome of the twelve had always held a beauty that made fairytales green with envy. Every inch of its façade had murals rendered in lifelike stone carvings jutting out from it. No part of the wall larger than a handprint was allowed to remain a flat surface.

Rye found herself staring at a rendition of Worga fighting the sun. In a sacrilegious twist, the fiery goddesses hair had been reshaped to look like a mane of feathers, and instead of a human’s face her face was that of a lion. Rhuna was blatantly equating herself to a god, one of the two greats as well.

Ignore the obvious hubris and heresy, what would Elia have to say about this?

Rye settled her stance standing more loosely. “Your place is awfully artsy.”

Rhuna shrugged, parting the sea of dregs with a wide gesture of her hands. “Eh, it’s a side effect of being as great as I am. Not that you can relate.”

Rye just nodded, following along to what hopefully wouldn’t be a cell. But as Rye stepped outside, she found herself gawking again. The outside was no less decorated than the inside of this building. The constant sound of masons, woodworkers and other artisans at work spanning over entire city blocks. Everywhere she looked, she saw Rhuna’s face. It was… it was too much. The ancient art her culture had been lauded for was being produced and reworked by the cartload, and all of it seemed to point towards one single person. Rhuna.

How could anybody dare to be so vain? How could anybody presume to be so arrogant?

No, step back, be focused like Elia.

Rhuna had called the sculptures a side effect, but a side effect of what? It was not a leap to assume that Rhuna’s greater shard was the shard of shape, form, or something similar. But all things had a price. Rye had to manage dreams, and not doing that meant she had no access to her power. It was quite possible that for every shape Rhuna changed, another change somewhere else in the world would have to be affected by mundane means.

It was just a theory, but Rye clung to it like a rope in water. Every piece of knowledge was another piece she could use against her. Because for all that her heart was rending her apart, Rye had not given up. After all, Elia never did.

Rhuna was quite politely not shoving her along all too often. Better not to show her interest overly much.

“Ah, nothing makes you feel like victory than leading a triumph.” Rhuna smiled as a group of undead emptied out sacks of miscellaneous items in front of her. One of them looked like a butler. Rye knew that because… because she had seen it in a dream. “Besides loot, of course. So, Timothy, what do you have for me today?”

The front-most undead did an overly courteous bow, flapping his hat around like a windmill. “Oh most glorious of hunters, oh greatest being in existence, we have gathered many great things for your perusal. Seventeen magical weapons, close to a hundred magical pieces of jewelry, ten pounds of mixed bone shards, some miscellaneous items… and of course, that special item you asked for.”

Rhuna rummaged through the bags, oohing and aahing as she plucked her favorite pieces from the piles. Rye fumed as she recognized one of the scrolls they had looted from Yorivale academy.

“Heya frenemie. Why so silent?”

The question seemed accusatory. “I don’t know. Should I say something? I am a prisoner.”

“Daww, don’t be like that. You’re an honored guest. I don’t get many people who come visit willingly. Heck, I don’t get many people who get me, y’know?” Rye gained the impression that Rhuna was just happy that she would not be set back in between their deaths anymore. Rye was certainly not planning on dying anytime soon. She would just return to a few minutes prior and Rhuna would be inclined to be a lot less forgiving then. “So, what’s your first impression? Like what I did to the place?”

With a clap, the dregs gathered the loot again and left, muttering demurely. Rhuna led her past a fountain where water once must have flowed from the angelic Rhuna-statues mouth. “… not gonna lie, your dregs are fucking creepy. What did you do to make them so… devoted?”

“I just pay them well,” Rhuna said, looking at Timothy.

And then she laughed. Timothy laughed. The mason-dregs laughed from across the plaza, and it all sounded so, so forced.

Rye was getting a really bad feeling about this.

“Alright, enough horsing around,” said the giant lioness. “Timothy, is everything ready for dinner with me and my best frenemy?”

“Of course, oh glorious mistress, the Coliseum will sing with joy when they hear that you are attending.” He turned to Rye, and said in a much less friendly voice. “Follow after me.”

Someone’s jealous of the attention I’m getting.

Rye sneered at him. It was a very Elia thing to do. Very appropriate. So far, besides the creepy undead, everything was going more or less fine.

They arrived shortly after in the Coliseum, where champions and ascenders had once proven their worth to the pontibat, and thereby the gods. In the best seats, one part of the ancient stone benches had been crudely removed to fit a lavish dining table. Rhuna sat down on a specially made chair of stone that flowed to fit her form.

It’s empty, Rye thought as she sat down. I’ve never been to the Coliseum when it was empty.

A group of costumed performers entered the stage below and started their play. From what Rye understood it was some sort of drama about cats, except instead of scales they had fur.

This place was weird and alien in more ways than one.

The food was served soon enough. While it was great, Rye would have enjoyed it infinitely more if Rhuna had not been staring at her the entire time.

“… not gonna eat?” Rye asked, quietly.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a statue,” Rhuna said. She grabbed a whole handful of grapes and placed them in her mouth, chewing and chewing them with her marbly whites for all the world to see. Then, she spat them back on her plate. “The nerds in the old days didn’t think a statue needed a digestive system. It would be a waste either way, the tastebuds in this body are shit. Reminds me of the shit I had to do to keep myself alive.”

Rye was chewing thoughtfully when Rhuna interrupted her line of thought again.

“So. You’ve got like a ghost possessing yourself?” she asked. “The one that slit your throat before you turned back time. You know, I can get you an exorcist. I can get you anything, if you ask nicely.”

Rye almost choked on an apricot.

“N-no. That’s fine. It’s… a boon. I had a contingency, in case I couldn’t kill myself.”

Hahaa – what a lie. And it flowed off her tongue so naturally. Of course it made sense, to everyone who didn’t know her Elia was the kind of person who was full of contingencies. She had plans within plans, changed tracks as easily as she changed in and out of pants – something Rye would never be able to do.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

But Rye was good at pretending. And in reality, she was sure Elia was mostly good at improvising.

“It was necessary where I come from. I spent years lost in the maze, and let me tell you it was awful. I learned to sleep an hour at a time with one eye open. Really fucks with you that there isn’t even night anymore.”

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Rhuna said. “When I first got here, it was all about the souls and shards, worrying day in, day out whether I would make it to the next boon. Let me tell you, I fought for my privilege to eat and exist and I fought hard. Dragons, half-spider ladies, mansion-sized demons – real monsters were what I had to kill. Not those piddly dregs from the labyrinth.”

Rye ignored the jab like she ignored so many other little icks. She was getting into the swing of things, she was really starting to learn how Elia thought and felt. “Yeah? Well, there aren’t any attendants in the maze, and I didn’t get any fancy-schmancy boons either. It took me two-hundred fucking years to finally get out.”

Rye flinched as Rhuna slammed her hand on the table. “I knew it. I knew there was something connecting us. Two hundred years. You and me, we’re from the same batch.”

“Batch?” Rye asked. “You mean, the gods summoned us at the same time?”

“Yes!” Rhuna laughed. “And they sent you to the fucking maze. Hah! Fucking idiots.”

Rye was so taken by the moment that she almost forgot where they were. “Umm, maybe be a bit careful? We’re in Loften. City of the gods.”

But that did not stop the lioness, quite the contrary. “If you knew what I learned in these past two centuries, you wouldn’t be quivering in your boots. The gods don’t actually care about fixing the world, not that they could since they are bound by their own fuckups. Everything you see is just an automation set in place long ago. They can’t do anything, they’re stuck on that mountain as much as we’re stuck down here.”

Rye made a face that communicated a portion of her massive disbelief.

Rhuna sighed. “Watch: Yo Ruthe, you’re so uglyy Worga left you and didn’t even take the kids. How’s it feel knowing that she left the empire and family you spent your entire life building open to get fucked up the ass?”

There was a moment of tense silence. Rye was prepared to bolt. This was the kind of blasphemy that had killed her uncles.

Aurana and Valti are mildly displeased

And yet, besides a note of complaint, nothing happened. No lightning, no smiting, no angry god descending to turn Rhuna into a smoldering landmark. Rye was glad that she had not become collateral damage, but some part of her was also disappointed.

Here I am wishing for someone to die, she thought. But why exactly do I think that she ought to die? For her arrogance? The blasphemy? Because I’m her prisoner?

She did not know what to pin it on besides some innate sense of injustice and the feeling that no matter how genial Rhuna presented herself, something was wrong about her.

Eventually, the play below finished. Rhuna had not decided to squish her head yet, which meant that either she was making a pretty good impression or that she reserved her casual violence for other circumstances.

“Finally!” Rhuna exclaimed. “Now, let’s do something fun. Have you heard of Go-go Gladiators?”

Rye carefully shook her head.

“Good. I invented it, trademarked the name, made it all official. I think you’ll like it. It’s time to play this world's one and only video game.”

On the coliseum grounds, eleven undead quickly gathered, arms and armor clinking and clanking as they lined up. They all had variable gear, some of which Rye recognized. Threx, Dimachaerus, Hoplomachus… those were all gladiator archetypes.

Rhuna meanwhile smiled as her eyes wandered over the assembled near-dozen. “Alright. Step one, choose your fighter. I choose… you there.”

A man who roughly resembled a Murmillo, with shortsword, shield, steel helmet and one padded arm, stepped forward and yelled in an impossibly deep voice. “MurmilloOOO!”

He struck a pose, then walked to his position. Now it was Rye’s turn to choose a combatant. But Rye did not know how this game worked, and she did not bother learning how gladiators worked either. Hesitantly, she poured over her options.

“I choose… retiarius. The fisherman.” Nobody moved. “The one with the spear and net.”

Finally, her champion moved, bellowing his own somewhat less imposing warcry. Just looking at his arms, he did not seem like someone who could win a fight against the heavily muscled murmillo. But the fisherman embodied Elia’s teachings to a T.

Initiative was king, range was queen, and speed was a prince. Her Fisherman could keep him at range with his long bident – a two-pronged spear – then finish him off once his opponent was struggling inside his net. Honestly, the murmillo could not even hope to get into range.

“Hey Elia, want to make a bet?” Rhuna asked “If you win, I’ll tell you what makes my undead go bananas over me.”

Rye chuckled nervously, until she realized what an opportunity this might be. “And if you win?”

“Then you give me your sword.”

Rye looked between her sword and Rhuna, then back at her sword. If Rhuna tried it out, she would realize that it was a reforged Moonlight and then she would be furious. But more than that, it felt wrong risking something intended as a present.

“F-fine,” she said, hoping the stutter didn’t give her away. “But I only have the one sword while you have an empire. If I win, I also want one choice item from your armory.”

“Fine. But I’ll add another condition on my end.” Rhuna’s smile grew devious. “If I win, you and I go on an outing. A date, if you will.”

She tossed Rye a weird W-shaped object carved from stone and wood. Rye gulped as it dawned on her that this was not a gladiator battle, but a video-game gladiator battle. And she did not know how to play video games.

Her threat music started playing a quiet jig, to which Rhuna raised an eyebrow.

“You come with your own OST-generator? Man, you’re like the best friend I ever friend-napped.”

“Uh-huh,” Rye said as the rest of the gladiators shuffled to the side. “What now?”

“AND NOW,” an immaterial voice announced, “IT IS TIME TO G-G-G-GUH-GLADIATE. READYYY? FIGHT!”

A gong sounded out and Rhuna began furiously mashing her handheld object and yelling. “Forward! Down-X, Up-X, combo, combo!”

Rye stared in shock as the murmillo bounded towards her fisherman, who was stiff as a shocked horned rabbit. With a kick and an uppercut the murmillo knocked him down and eviscerated him with a whirlwind of slashes against the belly.

“ROUND ONE. WINNER: THE GREAT RHUUUNA!”

“Yesss!” Rhuna fist pumped the air. “Did I forget to mention it’s best of three? Well, more like best of two since you’re not winning. Sorry, not-sorry.”

Rye looked to Rhuna with a polite expression. “Gee, would be nice to know what I was supposed to do beforehand.”

“You yell your inputs, duh.” Rhuna said as if that was something she ought to have known. “The controller isn’t real, these shits don’t know the first thing about electricity.”

Shit, that was something she should have known as Elia.

Rye watched as an undead healed the wounds on her combatant with some water bottles. Hopefully they were volunteers, and not volunteered by someone else. “So, I can just yell anything?”

“As long as it’s a valid move.”

But of course, what was and wasn’t a valid move went unsaid. Rhuna had a thousand times more experience in this ‘game’ as well. So that was how she was going to play. Alright. Rye could do this.

She pored over her ‘controller’, noting the little markings and arrows it had. They looked like letters from Earthland, but Rye had been very bored during her time inside dreamspace. That one was an ‘X’, the other was a ‘A’… yes, yes she could do this.

“Can I have a down-A?” Rye asked. Her fisherman did a low, quick jab. “And now an up-X?” Her fisherman did a strong jab, roughly at chest-height. A was light attacks, X was… medium? Yes, this system made sense.

Rhuna’s impatience however brooked no argument. “Are you gonna train all day or are we doing this?”

Rye shook her head. “No, I… I’m good.”

And then it was on to the next round.

“READYYY? FIGHT!”

Rhuna spat out the same set of commands and to her credit, her gladiator was fast to follow through. One thing that the gladiators could only act on the orders with a considerable delay. Going for speed and versatility was perhaps the wrong choice if she could not even use either of them well.

But Rye had a plan.

“Down-a! Down-a, Down-a, Down-a!”

Her fisherman moved and met the kick with a light jab, skewering Rhuna’s warrior. By yanking his bident back, he tore flesh, then jabbed again and again, leaving lighter wounds all over. Rye pursed her lips, feeling queasy at the thought that she was torturing a man with such ease and detachment, when Rhuna finally called her loss.

“Fuckin jab-spammers,” she laughed. “Alright, I’ll give you that one. But my gloves are off, off, dare I say.”

Both combatants healed up and returned to their positions.

“MATCHPOINT! WHO WILL WIN? READYYY? FIGHT!”

The second match went very slowly as they both carefully tested each other for openings. Rye learned that Y was apparently a heavy knock-out strike when her fisherman barely backstepped an overhead swing. She wanted to use his net, but so far none of the buttons had done that.

Then, all of a sudden, her fisherman tripped, and the murmillo slashed him right across his arm. He dropped his net and Rhuna launched into a flurry of blows.

“Back, dodge, parry, back!” Rye yelled and her fisherman barely made it out of range with a few leaking cuts. Rye looked aghast at the small mound of sand he had tripped over.

“Wow, random-trip mechanic. That’s bad luck, Elia, just bad luck.” Rhuna clapped her on her shoulders, rattling her teeth. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You don’t need a sword anyways. As long as you’re with me I won’t ever let you die.”

Rye gulped. There were a lot of heavy implications just there. She was certain that the tripping had not been random. And there! Just as Rhuna yawned dramatically the mound receded into the ground.

Rhuna was cheating. Was it a boon? Could she use her shard of shapes from a distance? Wait, Rye only had one life left, she needed to focus on winning!

And two could play at that game.

“Back, back, down-A, back!” she yelled as she projected her arm and an eye downwards through a crack. On the other side, she quickly conjured a sphere of ice and the moment she possessed it with her eye, it was as if she could see from two places at once.

Nice.

Her father had shown her the Coliseum once. Beneath the benches there were layers and layers of open rooms for gladiators, medical care, and the tunnels for wild beasts. Tunnels that lead right under the central arena.

“Stop running you pussy!” Rhuna yelled as her gladiator did another spin-kick. “You’ve already lost. Just give up already!”

Playing for time was anything but easy. Rhuna was still trying to trip her up, but luckily for Rye she caught her tell. Every time she tapped her left foot, a small tripping hazard jutted out of the ground in the direction her fisherman was running.

Her eye and spectral hand arrived in the tunnels at just the right moment. She rolled her ice-eye until it was almost covered in sand for camouflage, sent it out through the nearest grate, and waited.

The fisherman stumbled right towards it and, seeing an opportunity, Rhuna tried to push him over. That was when she struck, surging up and into the murmillo’s body. In contrast to his body, his spirit was, perhaps unsurprisingly, weak and Rye possessed his shield arm with ease.

It was her first time wearing someone else’s body. It felt not much different than her first days in the maze. It also sickened her to the core as she tore away his shield and her fisherman skewered him in the gut.

But the murmillo did not go down.

“Special!” Rhuna yelled. “Tier three, tier three!”

The murmillo yelled and suddenly gained a meter in height. He tore the bident out of his chest, muscles squeezing his wound shut.

“I BECOME BEEEG!” he yelled. Now, her own gladiator looked rather childish compared to this hulking mass of a brute.

“Neutral-A! Down-X! A-X, combo, combo!” Rye yelled as her fisherman dodged hit after hit. Finally, he had to parry and a single strike broke his weapon in two. “No!”

Rhuna laughed and laughed while Rye stared on in terror. She did not want to lose her sword. She did not want to go on a date with Rhuna.

“S-special! Please, special!”

Her fisherman heard her pleas, and ran straight for his net, dodging tripping hazards that were not even trying to be subtle anymore. He stumbled, and fell, and touched the net. “Net-shape!”

Her gladiator suddenly turned liquid, wrapping around the net. Before she knew what was happening, he jumped the giant, two small googly eyes staring defiantly as the net wrapped around his head and bit his ear.

Rhuna yelled as the murmillo tried to tear him apart. Rye strained against his one hand, her body pressing into her seat as she heard fiber start to tear.

“Come on, come on!”

With a sudden lurch, the murmillo’s arms stopped moving. Rye breathed an infinitely deep sigh.

“I won,” she said, slumping down on her seat. “Holy fuck, that was intense.”

I was so not in control of the situation.

“You lucked out. You got the OP character.” Rye heard, then felt Rhuna playfully punch her in the side. It hurt a damn lot, but Elia was not someone to yell out. Pain only made her more angry, and that anger turned to focus.

“Yeah, well, sucks to suck,” she said and only realized much too late that Rhuna had lost her smile entirely.