Charlie stared at Camille, his eyes widening with disbelief. "What do you mean 'do something'? I'm just a kid. They're down there arguing about overthrowing governments. What the hell am I supposed to contribute?"

Camille slapped her forehead, a gesture Charlie had come to recognize as her go-to sign for exasperation. "Ah, merde. I forget you do not know, do you?" She sighed. "We are waiting for the completion of the Big Ten so that the vote can commence."

"Vote? What vote?" Charlie asked, more confused than ever.

Camille's eyes flickered with concern before she continued. "At the beginning, everyone got a notification, oui? First and second on the list, they give there opinion, and the rest of 'Big Ten,' they vote. All precursors, we are bound by that decision. this is what they argue about now, and you, you are the only 'Big Ten' who 'as not shown 'imself."

"What the fuck," Charlie muttered, tension seizing him. "I can't go down there. Every day of my life, I've avoided attention like the plague. How am I supposed to put myself in front of the ten strongest people in the world and be judged by another seventy thousand?" His breathing quickened as the early stages of a panic attack began to bubble up. Then, another 'Condition Surge' notification flashed before his eyes.

Condition Surge

The human brain consists of approximately 100 billion neurons firing simultaneously. Cerebral palsy results from brain injuries that can occasionally cause these neurons to misfire, leading to paroxysmal neural hyperexcitability.

During such surges, you experience a debuff, diminishing up to 80% of all attributes.

CURRENT DEBUFF: 39%

CURRENT SURGE TIME REMAINING:

43 SECONDS.

Thoughts slowed, and hands trembled. It didn't take a genius to figure out that these surges were linked to his emotional state. But why hadn't they been triggered in the dungeons, where life-and-death panic had been a constant companion? That was a puzzle for another time.

Charlie's mind was a whirlwind of anxiety. It had been years since he last felt on the verge of a panic attack, and now he was teetering on the edge for the second time in mere minutes. The last time he'd felt like this was at thirteen when he'd been shoved into a speaking role in a school play. The notion of public appearances just screwed with him. How was he going to manage this?

"Charlie," Camille interrupted, snapping her fingers in front of his dazed eyes. "Get your 'ead in the game. Your brother, 'e talks about you, you know?" He blinked, refocusing on her. "Last year, we 'ad this grand competition. 'Ad just fought each other, 'e did kick my arse, to be 'onest. I said 'e was stronger than I expected, stronger than bigger guys I 'ad beaten before. But 'e told me you are the strongest person 'e knows, 'e said you're unstoppable. I thought maybe 'e meant physically, but now I see it is not that."

With a sense of finality, Camille poked him square in the forehead. "'E meant 'ere," she emphasized. "You 'ave overcome everything. that must be true, otherwise 'ow the 'ell are you still alive? A kid with cerebral palsy enters a dungeon that killed one hundred seventy-five thousand people. You survive, and not just that, you're one of the Big Ten. You must be unstoppable."

Charlie stared at her, gobsmacked. He felt like an utter idiot. Why was he panicking over simply talking to people? That version of him was outdated. He'd faced a leviathan, for God's sake. Sure, he had literally shit himself and sprinted away, screaming like a little girl, but who wouldn't have? He'd faced that and lived. Could anyone else make the same claim?

Nodding at Camille, Charlie felt the last of his anxiety dissipate, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose. "Alright," he uttered, bracing himself as the surge ebbed away. "Let's go and ruffle some feathers."

----------------------------------------

Camille led Charlie down the expansive stairs into a grand forum, towering stone columns rose skyward, supporting an open roof that let the natural light filter in. The forum was colossal, easily rivalling the size of a modern football stadium, and the architectural grandeur gave the place an almost surreal quality. Rows upon rows of stone benches filled the surrounding stands, packed with thousands of onlookers. The sheer mass of humanity made Charlie's breath catch for a moment. But he couldn't afford to hesitate now.

They reached a lower section where they found a narrow pathway circled around the raised platform, leading to another set of stone steps that went up to the debate area. "I can go no further," Camille informed him. She touched her palm against an invisible boundary, which responded with a fleeting glow of golden light. Charlie reached out, half-expecting his hand to be repelled, but instead, it passed through seamlessly.

As he took a deep breath, preparing to walk up the stone steps that led to the debate stage, Camille caught his hand. She stood on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Go and kick zeir arse," she urged, her eyes shining. "Metaphorically speaking, at least."

With a shaky smile directed back at Camille, Charlie took a deep breath and began his ascent up the stone stairs towards the debate rostrum. The second his foot touched the first step, all ambient noise from the stands ceased abruptly. The incessant raving of the man he'd mentally labelled "the Viking" was now the only sound that broke the silence. Though he could still see the hordes of people filling the forum, they appeared blurry, almost ethereal, as if he were looking at them through a veil of mist or smoke. It was disorienting but somehow focused him more on the immediate task ahead.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he found himself face to face with a man leaning casually against a pillar. The man was obviously of Japanese descent, dressed in light grey suit trousers and an expensive-looking black silk shirt, a few of its top buttons carelessly undone. Intricate tattoos sprawled across his chest and climbed up his neck. The katana held sheathed in his left hand was like an exclamation point, underlining the man's Yakuza-like demeanour.

The man gave Charlie a cold, appraising smile, a smile that never reached his eyes. Charlie didn't need to see the branded silver '10' on the man's arm to know he was standing in front of Hiroshi Tanaka. A fleeting thought passed through Charlie's mind: Was this guy really Yakuza, or just putting on a damn good act? Either way, intuition warned him that crossing Tanaka would be playing a perilous game.

Just as Charlie stepped past Tanaka, his gaze was involuntarily drawn to the other members of the Big Ten. Each one of them seemed to be a story unto themselves, characters ripped out of different worlds yet united in their ominous importance. He felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, an electric awareness of being in a den of apex predators. It was both thrilling and unsettling.

But before he could begin any sort of mental assessment or evaluation of the imposing figures around him, a notification materialized in his line of sight, so clear and sharp that it was impossible to ignore. He didn't need to open it; it simply appeared. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the tell-tale signs that similar notifications had popped up in front of the others as well.

The Conclave has now begun.

To facilitate effective discussion, all speech will be automatically translated into the Precursors' given language.

Once all votes have been made, the Conclave will end and all Precursors will be system-bound by the agreed ruling.

Any breaches will be punished harshly by the system.

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

This is the universal standard for system-wide government for planetary bodies undergoing Initiation Protocol and Stabilisation Protocol.

Topic of Vote:

1. Co-operation: Precursors to work together to form an information network, support ruling governments in locating and tackling located dungeons.

2. Conquest: Precursors to establish a power base, taking control from current elected government and use resources to prepare for dungeon overflow.

Strive, Survive and Thrive.

Once Charlie finished reading the notification, it disappeared, leaving him with a sense that its invisible weight had lifted. He looked around to find that everyone else seemed to have finished reading as well, and their focus had shifted to him. A disconcerting shiver snaked up his spine; the collective gaze of these powerful people was unnerving. Most of them looked dismissive or amused, but one man, Bjorn "The Viking" Eriksson, appeared livid. His face transitioned from a rosy pink to a raging red as his eyes locked onto Charlie.

Bjorn stormed over, towering over Charlie like a tempestuous mountain. "Where the hell have you been? Over an hour I've been stuck on this stage like some kinda circus freak, all because we've been waitin' for you!" The heat of Bjorn's rage was palpable. His muscles flexed threateningly as if he were a lion deciding whether the prey before him was worth a lunge. Charlie felt certain that the Norse giant could snap him like a twig if he chose to do so. Just when it seemed the tension would shatter into violence, a calming touch landed on Bjorn's arm.

Then, a hand gently touched Bjorn's sizable bicep. Circling around him was a woman in her early thirties with wavy, blonde hair that fell just past her ears. She was dressed in dark blue jeans and a black vest top, with a dark brown leather jacket thrown over. A gold "4" was embroidered on her right shoulder. This had to be Emily Harris. "Ease up on the young'un, Bjorn," she said, her words laced with a clear Texan drawl. "Ain't his fault, we're all stuck up here 'til we get this moving, let's get on with it?"

Bjorn yanked his arm away from Emily's grip, his eyes still ablaze. "Get your hands off me, American spook. Next time you touch me without asking, maybe I'll break dose pretty little fingers of yours."

Instead of reacting with the shock or concern that Charlie had expected, Emily simply smiled at Bjorn. But her smile didn't convey amusement; it was more like she was sizing him up, calculating the best angles for a takedown. "Ah, ah, ah," Emily chided, wagging a finger in Bjorn's face. "Don't forget the first notice, no violence allowed on Conclave grounds. though I reckon it'd be pretty amusing watching the system dish out your punishment. You might still hear that other fella screaming from earlier if you listen close."

Charlie was puzzled. What other guy? Nevertheless, Emily's words served as a warning: combat here would invite some form of system-enforced penalty. Not that Charlie was itching to throw down with Bjorn—or any of them, for that matter. Right now, he felt like a lamb amidst wolves, each ready to pounce.

At that moment, Li Wei, a man who stood about 5 foot 7, shorter than Charlie's newfound height, decided to chime in. Charlie had noticed him earlier: his short dark hair was cut in a style reminiscent of the 'curtains' look that had been popular back when his dad was in school. Li Wei was dressed in a dark green Cheongsam paired with black trousers. But what really grabbed Charlie's attention was the golden "1" branded onto his arm, making it abundantly clear that this man was no minor player in this gathering. "Maybe it's time to finish the discussion and vote," Li Wei suggested, his words cutting through the tension like a hot knife. "Assuming' you want to actually leave the stage, Mister Eriksson."

Bjorn abruptly turned his back on Charlie, effectively dismissing him from his immediate concerns. Charlie's gaze drifted momentarily to the two Maasai warriors standing across from him; they seemed oddly fixated on him. Their intent was unclear, but their unblinking scrutiny suggested he had piqued their interest for some reason.

Refocusing on the ongoing discourse, Charlie found Li Wei patiently, but assertively, addressing Bjorn. "Mister Eriksson, conquest is not the answer," Li Wei said, his words imbued with a rare kind of calm authority. "What your talking about will needlessly cost lives and time, time we don't have. Do you think you can conquer the whole world in two months for its resources? Best bet is cooperation. Inform the governments what is happening and offer to help."

Bjorn looked as though he was about to erupt; his face had turned a vivid shade of red, a testament to his simmering frustration. Just as it seemed he might verbally unload, Emily interjected. "I'm afraid it's already too late for that," she began, her tone laced with resigned humour. "The US government already knows about the dungeons. Showed 'em myself a month ago. They've pulled troops and are focusing on finding dungeons on American soil. Guess the 'orange man' will finally get his wall, even if he had to get locked up and suffer a dungeon outbreak to make it happen," she added with a chuckle. "Though I reckon he didn't plan for one on the Canadian border too."

Charlie felt compelled to join the conversation at that point. "Wait a second," he interjected, incredulous. "How the hell do you know all of that? I chose to keep quiet because I thought they'd laugh me out of the station. I mean, can you imagine me waltzing into the local police and saying, 'Excuse me, officer, but it appears I've found a dungeon portal. Would you be so kind as to sort it out for me?'"

"The difference there, young'un, is position and authority," Emily drawled, fixing Charlie with a pointed look. "Being in the CIA has its perks, just like Bjorn and his FSK Spec Ops training. While I get to show and persuade, he's the hammer. Keep hitting the fucking thing till it does what you want. Trust me, the UK government's in the loop too; they're just deciding on their next move."

Bjorn had heard enough. "Enough of this shit," he boomed, his face red with irritation. "Let's get it over with. You all know my vote—Conquest!" The hovering leaderboard immediately updated, registering his vote under "Conquest." From his relaxed position against a pillar, Hiroshi Tanaka said, "Conquest," and another tally appeared on the board.

Li Wei broke in, almost immediately, raising his voice for the first time. "Cooperation," he announced, and the board flickered as it counted his choice.

Charlie surveyed the room. He felt certain that the Maasai warriors would also vote for conquest, making it at least four votes on that side. His eyes drifted to two other women. One appeared to be of Asian descent, maybe Indian, resplendent in yellow silk trousers and a green tunic. The bow over her shoulders and the traditional Indian sword at her hip were hard to miss. Beside her, another woman of possible Mexican descent looked ready to spit nails, especially in Emily's direction. The scar running from her left eye to her jawline suggested a tough life; she'd likely vote for conquest too, he mused.

Suddenly, a thick Russian accent broke his train of thought. "Cooperation," it blared, followed by the Maasai warriors' simultaneous "Conquest."

Emily announced her vote. "Cooperation." The Mexican woman, gritting her teeth, surprisingly also went for "Cooperation," followed by the Indian woman's calm "Cooperation," tipping the scale five to four in favour of cooperation.

And then all eyes were on him. Charlie felt the weight of the room's collective gaze. Just as he was about to announce his vote, Bjorn issued a veiled threat. "I don't make a good enemy, little boy. Maybe you should consider that before making your decision." Charlie was already leaning towards cooperation, but Bjorn's words hardened his resolve. His eyes flared with suppressed anger, years of dealing with bullies resurfacing in a heartbeat.

"I wonder if that pretty little French girl you were with can help you decide correctly," Bjorn continued, pushing Charlie closer to the edge.

Charlie felt a jolt of confusion. How could Bjorn possibly know Camille was French? As far as he knew, they'd never come into contact, and he was certain that Bjorn had been on the stage since he'd arrived. They must have another way of communicating that he wasn't aware of. He knew from experience that phones didn't work inside the portal, so it couldn't be that. But now wasn't the time for such thought.

"Lay a single finger on her, and I won't just kill you. I'll unravel you piece by piece," Charlie growled, the sensation of his dormant 'berserker' skill teetering on the edge of activation.

With that, he turned back toward the board and loudly declared, "Cooperation," sealing his stance and putting the odds in favour of an approach far removed from Bjorn's war-hungry rhetoric.

----------------------------------------

Charlie watched as Bjorn stormed off the stage, his face contorted in obvious displeasure. The two Maasai warriors and Hiroshi trailed behind him. Just before exiting, Hiroshi locked eyes with Charlie and nodded, as if granting some silent approval. Moments later, Camille sprinted up the stairs and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Thank you for standing up for me," she murmured into his ear.

Perplexed, Charlie turned to Emily and Li Wei. "Isn't it a bit odd that Bjorn knew Camille is French? How'd he know?"

Emily shrugged. "Ain't so strange, young'un. In the U.S., we found out pretty quickly there's a chat system on your HUD. You can add folks and send messages." She sent Charlie an invite to his interface. "Keep in touch, ya hear? This is about to get a lot more interesting."

Before he could respond, Emily had sauntered off, disappearing into the ether of their strange surroundings. He noted that the two other women and the Russian man had also vacated, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly when. Now, only he, Camille, and Li Wei remained.

Li Wei sized Charlie up, then offered an approving nod. "Impressive. Not often someone so young could make it to the top ten, I think," he said, transferring his own contact information to Charlie's HUD. "Have you looked outside the forum yet?"

Both shook their heads.

"Ah, you should. Whole town out there. I don't know if its real, a dungeon creation, or another planet. But it could be worthy of exploring," his eyes twinkled with a glint of genuine interest, "would you like to spar before the week over. Just to see how you got so far, and maybe pick up a trick or two" Li Wei said "It's been good to meet you, Charlie," and Li Wei nodded towards Camille before making his own exit.