The sportrell is an analogous fungus from the Zk’Aek homeworld. Cultivated from flowering mushrooms originally found in the caverns surrounding the habitable valleys that gave rise to their civilization and bred for milenia to reach ever higher heights and strength.

Often compared to trees by humans, the fibrous bodies of both are used heavily in the crafting and creative pursuits of each species on their respective homeplanets. The less dense sportrell is often infused with secondary materials dispersed within the porous cell structure of the flowering “tree” to augment the material to suit its intended purpose.

The branch I’d ripped off of the mushroom tree had a heavy rubbery flex to it as I swung it at the charging dwarv. I timed my swing along with a sidestep to avoid a blob of glowing goo that they spat at me just before swinging their own long handled hammer in my direction.

I felt a few specks of the spit splatter across me just before the longer reach of my improvised club connected with the flashing red outline of the rival dwarves head. The branch’s end came apart with a wet crunch, sending fibrous chunks of material out in all directions as the dwarv came to a sudden stop and his feet kept going.

He fell back and continued past me, sliding on his back in the oily layer of mycelium that coated the floor, giving off a muffled cry of pain and clutching at his face.

I heard more footsteps splashing towards me and spun around to face them, seeing three flashing outlines coming from one direction, and another five converging on me from the other. I ran towards the larger, more scattered formation, pushing towards the edge of the room at an angle.

My longer legs carried me towards the enemy before they could close the gaps between themselves. The slowly dimming blobs of spit from the previous fight illuminated the young wide eyed dwarv’s panicked face as he raised a broken off stalagmite club to strike. His timing was off and I lowered my shoulder without slowing to give him a stiff-arm directly to the middle of his chest.

He let out a choked grunt as I smashed the air out of him, and while we were probably close to the same mass and weight due to the Mask he wore, my greater speed won out, I knocked him onto his ass and carried on through their line.

“Borek is down!” someone shouted somewhere in the dark. “Pull together!” came from another direction as more lights were flung around to light up the space.

I continued to run for a few more paces, dodging around the trunk of another sportrell as thick as a trash can before my foot sunk up to my knee into a deeper pocket slime. I fell forward, dropping my improvised weapon and feeling my knee wrench painfully before my leg turned and I landed on my side. I heard more approaching footfalls and wordless shouts as I quickly pushed myself up, now mostly covered in the foul mix that coated the floor.

Max appeared, hopping mad and vivid against the backdrop of the foggy cave. “You stupid-ass, brainless, neolithic, dunce-cap! Get moving! You’re going to get surrounded and beaten back to respawn. Damn.”

He pointed a nub off to the side, before disappearing again while continuing to mentally berate me with a seamless string of vitriolic insults as I started moving in the direction he had pointed. I could see more red outlines ahead, as well as larger masses of them moving in from the edges of the cavern.

As I ran, I crossed through a puddle of light and must have been spotted, because more shouts rang out. “There! I think it’s the human!”, “Gunkur, Barrow, Ellna; to me! To me! Rekkar, flank left!”

The red outlines ahead formed up and moved to intercept, so I changed course, avoiding the lights, to angle past them. I sprinted past another mirage of Max as he stood in the muck with his arms crossed, shaking his head disapprovingly. The layer of oily mycelium changed under my feet, becoming deeper and thicker and pulling at my crude footwraps, giving off airy sucking noises with each step and slowing me down as I continued to push forward towards what I only then realized was the middle of the chamber.

I heard more shouting and war cries, and the occasional ring of metal on metal coming from the far side of the cavern as the rival groups met each other in the confusion. I glanced all around as I high-stepped through the now ankle deep muck, feeling it become deeper and thicker until I was wading through the viscous, tar-like substance up to my knees.

I could still feel the solid stone against my now bare feet underneath the muck, and while it was becoming more difficult with every step, I still felt strong enough to pull myself out of it. I continued forward a bit further until It came up to my mid-thigh, stopping only after taking a final step and not feeling a bottom at all and nearly falling face first into the deepest part of the pit. I windmilled my arms, arched my back, and managed to change course to fall backwards instead, landing on my back and slowly sinking into the sticky pool.

I pulled my arms free and rolled over, but the liquid refused to let go of me. For a terrifying moment I was pulled face down into the black pit. I flailed wildly as I sunk into the goop, my hands finding no purchase. Eventually I managed to get my legs underneath my core again and to push off of the bottom enough to break the surface.

I still couldn’t see, hear, or even breathe as the thick liquid had coated me entirely. I started clawing and scraping at my face, trying to clear my eyes and airways. I felt a cool calming sensation wash over me, and my heart rate slowed as Max flooded my system with calming chemicals to counter the panic that had spiked within me.

Finally able to think clearly again, I calmly scraped the tar from my face and cleared my mouth enough to get a breath after spitting out a mouthful of the chunky, thick, terrible tasting tar I had nearly drowned in. I crouched down to one knee, sitting in the pool up to my chest to finish dragging the muck from my head until I felt I could open my eyes.

I looked around, seeing the dim silhouettes and vague red outlines in the garishly lit fog, seeing fighting all around me in the multicolored patches of light. I counted 30 forms and maybe three or four ongoing conflicts. I could make out more of them streaming in from new angles as more Rows broke through into the room and saw a chance to attack their rivals while they were busy. I was just off center in the room, which was at least a few hundred feet across, and sitting in a dark shadow that was ringed with the glowing splatters of the bug-spit lights that the dwarves had scattered around the edges of the area.

I still couldn't hear for shit, and despite trying to scrape the tar from my ears with a finger, I was unable to unclog them. Max had also ceased his string of insults and had disappeared from sight, but I could still feel a residual annoyance that seemed to come from his little corner of my mind.

I noticed I had a message notification in my inbox, it must have come in during my mad dash to the middle of the room. I opened my HUD and intented on the message.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Bomilik: We are through, where are you?

As I started to type out a reply to his message, a second came through, followed by a third.

Bomilik: Were you zeroed out?

Sallis: I don’t know what you did, but I hope you’re not sitting back at respawn. The opposition sounds to be hammering away at each other, and we’re working on fortifying our entry to the central chamber.

I grinned at the message from Sallis, feeling the sticky tar still stuck to my face pull at the short beard I was wearing these days. It was nice to hear that Sallis was worried I might have been knocked out of the trials, and knowing she would send me updates on what was happening if I had been was comforting in a way.

I answered Bo’s message first, downplaying my reckless actions but reporting on the overall situation as I understood it.

To Bomilik: I saw an opportunity to attack and broke through their formations. Multiple Rows got involved with the confusion I created and the fighting is ongoing. I’m still under the mountain and mostly unharmed, I’m hiding in a deeper section of the oil-slick, I think close to the middle of the room.

My message back to Sallis was more joking as I let myself bask in the fading rush of adrenaline and cocktail of chemicals Max had hit me with.

To Sallis: I’m good, sort of stuck in the middle of the room though. I aggroed pretty much everyone and now they’re all fighting each other

Bo’s reply came back as soon as I had finished answering Sallis. Before replying, I closed my HUD and took a moment to watch the fighting, watching as two of the groups were beaten back to their entrances by the other two. All I could really see were red outlines and dim silhouettes, so I couldn’t tell which Rows came out on top or any real details.

I also struggled to recognize where I had come from, and which of the five entrances to the room was claimed by my own Row. Judging from how far my darkvision was extending, clearly outlining the whole massive cavern despite the fog that filled the room, Max had dropped the self-imposed restrictions on the ability. One of the cave openings switched from a blue outline to green, and I saw a group of green-highlighted dwarves working to stack heavy stone blocks to either side of the round opening into barricades.

“I’m guessing that’s our friendly entrance?” I asked Max under my breath.

“I’m not speaking to you.” He replied without appearing.

“Oh come on, it all worked out. I’m safe, and our rivals are focused on each other. I’d call this a win.” I replied, whispering in the dark.

“Your inane, hot-headed, thick-skulled decision nearly set us back a whole month, and it still might! Unless you haven’t noticed, which would not surprise me with how monumentally dense you are, you’re stuck in no-mans land behind enemy lines in a literal tar pit.”

“You’re still helping me, otherwise why did you highlight the friendlies?”

Max appeared again, still dressed in his vacation gear but this time on an inflatable raft that floated on the surface of the black liquid. He waved a fat cigar around as he ranted back at me. “Like I have a choice, you’re hell bent on squandering all of the opportunities I’ve lined up for you, unless I step in and save your ass. Someone has to clean up your messes, you tantrum throwing toddler, and since I’m stuck with you, I have to.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed at him. Wondering if he was capable of seeing the irony in his statement as the one mid-tantrum who had taken me over in the first place. Luckily, while the fighting around the edges of the chamber had slowed, it had not completely fallen off yet and my snort of laughter went unnoticed.

“Poor you, forced to actually do something.” I replied.

“Shut your gross face hole and start being useful, meat-bag.” He made a disgusted sound and stabbed his cigar into his raft, causing it to pop in a startlingly large explosion that blinded me for a moment. When my vision returned, he had disappeared again but there was a dotted golden line marked out in my vision. The glowing line snaked through the dank pit in the direction of the friendly green highlighted entrance, weaving through the sparse copse of sportrell shrooms.

Shaking my head and suppressing another laugh, and still riding a high from having navigated my way through yet another sketchy situation, I finally opened Bo’s sobering message.

Bomilik: How many are fighting? Can you make your way back? I want a full report to send back to Kazek

I debated with myself for a moment on what to say, starting to feel guilty for my decision now that the rush was wearing off and the reality of my situation was setting back in.

To Bomilik: I’m not sure who came out on top, but it looks like pretty much everyone showed up to the fight. I counted at least 30 dwarves. If our entrance is 12 o-clock, the teams at 2 and 7 lost their fight and have been pushed back inside of their entrances. The only fighting I see near you is at 2’s doorstep. I will crawl back as quietly as I can, I think I can make it

I chewed my lip as I reread my message before sending it, the true recklessness of my actions becoming even more clear as I recounted them again to the group's second in command.

Bomilik didn’t reply right away, so I started to slowly creep my way back to the green highlighted entrance. I tried to stay low, but pushing my way through the thick tar towards the middle of the pit was too difficult at a crouch. I had to fight for each inch of advancement, pushing off of the solid stone floor and using my hands to sort of dig and pull myself through the sticky mess.

I continued to scan around the room as I moved towards the ring of sportrells that lined the midsection of the slick, watching as the two victorious Rows switched from attacking the retreating groups to containing them in their entrances. One of the teams seemed to be working on collapsing the enemies tunnel, while the other were throwing rocks and handfuls of the oil and fungus mix at their retreating foes.

I went unnoticed as I made my way through the dark center of the room to the tree-like shrooms. Once I made it to within a few meters of the nearest sportrell, Bo’s reply finally came back in and explained why he had taken so long with his message.

Bomilik: I had to look up what your clocks are and translate your meaning. Why would you design it in such a way that it needs to repeat itself twice over per day? I do not like this metaphor, refrain from using it again and stick to your compass. Our orders are to dig in and hold our entrance, Kazek thinks it unwise to involve ourselves in the squabble over this chamber.

I smiled at the message, considering his disdain of the directional system I had used. The only reason I even thought to describe it that way was that I had heard Tevin shouting callouts like that while he played his shooter games back in our old apartment.

That thought sent a pang of longing nostalgia through me. It had been a while since I thought about the old place and the memories it held. While it was not a perfect life, things had been so much simpler then. Break rocks, don't get mugged or killed in the street, keep food on the table.

Now simply being killed felt like it was closer to the middle of my list of unfavorable outcomes. While Max was an unrepentant asshole, I truly believed he held the best path for my whole damn species to avoid total economic subjugation to the cadre of organized and powerful factions that dominated the Linked Worlds. If I somehow caught a true-death and took him with me, I feared our whole world would collapse even further than it already had.

Feeling a little more motivated and determined, I peeled myself out of the thickest part of the tar pit and made it to the more oily and fungus filled edge of the slick. I leaned against the trunk of a shroom tree for a moment to catch my breath. As I tried to control my breathing, I considered whether I should reply to Bomilik again or just wait to report in person.

My thoughts were interrupted when another message came in, this time from Rin. Wondering why he was contacting me, and expecting it to be something about Ali’s new assignment or trouble with his new position, I opened the message and lost focus on the dwarven drama that surrounded me as I read it.

Rin: Separatists have attacked the city. Fighting and explosions all over. I got eyes on a scouting report saying they are blocking traffic in and out of the region and cutting off reinforcements. I would not be surprised if you receive a message from our overlords shortly. The apartment towers blast shields and firewalls have engaged, I’m working on regaining access to external camera feeds. We have moved to your apartment and are keeping watch. Will report again when there is more to report.