You have to be first. That is your only concern. Me? I hate it when I don’t get at least that much. Placed in the top 3? Failure. Exceptional efforts worth a special mention? Don’t even start with your pity. If you want to be an adventurer, you will excel, or you will be left behind.
— Interview of Pucci ‘El Poochador’ Milleneuve, 12th Tier Adventurer of the Brume Whale
***
The crowd of people began moving slowly towards the only free side of the tunnel. Then O-BEE zapped two mink that were lagging behind, and suddenly the leisurely press of people turned into a full-on stampede. Bags were left behind, gear was abandoned in droves.
“That’s one for the healers,” came the mannequin’s jovial voice, and as if that wasn’t enough insult added to injury, he had a soundboard on board as well. He disappeared the two twitching mink bodies with barely a flick of the wrist. “D-D-Double kill!”
At least we don’t have to worry about dying during this test. Hah, haha.
A small backpack with way too many stickers was torn out of the hands of someone straight in front of Isaac. He snagged it with a quick catch and almost caught another elbow as thanks.
“Hey, you dropped your—” Isaac reflexively ducked as a backhand swished inches over his head. “And fuck you too! Not you, go long!”
“I can’t help but notice that you’re helping the competition,” Hrisp commented as Isaac tossed the backpack with a practiced pok-ball spin.
“Claire taught me manners. Is that judgment I hear?”
“I was taught that a lapse of good manners may be excused by circumstance.” There was a bang, followed by distant laughter, as a whole group of people got knocked to the ground and mercilessly zapped by O-BEE. “Is it just me, or did people get more unfriendly the moment we started running?”
“Maybe they think constant access to healers makes them less accountable?” Well, if someone hurt Andri or Sophia, he was going to make sure they knew exactly how accountable they were. He didn’t know exactly how skilled Andri was beyond ‘very, very skilled’, but Sophia was only Tier 1, and she didn’t have a skill. “I need to get back to my group.”
“Maybe I should just drop to the floor here and end it like this,” Hrisp sighed and followed along. If Isaac thought he was doing it out of a misplaced sense of duty, he would’ve stopped right there. But Hrisp evidently had enough reasons not to leave him behind.
“Thanks,” Isaac said. “If I find some way to stick it to Ortho’Wuur, I’ll do it for you.”
“It is appreciated,” Hrisp huffed. “If this test of endurance goes on for longer than thirty time-units, I will require a splash of water.”
“We’ve barely run a kilometer,” Isaac said, but bit back any future commentary. Hrisp was incredibly well-trained for a merfolk, especially since most of them didn’t live on land. Even then, running on land must have been more exhausting for him than for Isaac. Telling him he ‘only’ had to run ten kilometers was like telling a human ‘you’ve barely held your breath for five minutes’. Now, Baphomet scalping water bottles made a whole lot more sense, as did Andri commenting on how Isaac was lucky that he could sweat.
Humans were the kings of sweating, and thereby also kings of the land-based endurance run. This first test seemed almost tailor-made for him.
Isaac was humming excitedly to himself when two groups ahead, there was a sudden explosion. He ducked right under a [Fire Bolt], only to trip into a heavyset and armored man. He hit the ground hard, but Isaac turned his tumble into a roll, and was right back on his feet.
Gotta thank Hammond for upgrading our obstacle course so many times.
His left leg still tingled from the impact. A [Zap Bolt]?
Whatever it was, it was becoming part of the mosh pit at the front smelling of sulphur and roasted pig. People yelled as streams of fire joined balls of ice that exploded into hoarfrost. Steam rose in turn with smoke, blocking line of sight, before a sudden gust of wind pushed a circular corridor through it. And since that was all people could see, that was where the great majority of skills and ranged attacks were aimed at.
“Does everyone have a freaking license for lethal skills?” Isaac asked with exasperation.
Hrisp shrugged. “Many delvers and spawn-of-adventure are frolicking about. Beware she who flouts her colors openly.”
“This is insane,” Isaac muttered. “It’s just blind fucking luck.”
“No. We either go through the middle and endure it, or we go through the mist and hope we don’t trip or runinto anyone nasty-mean,” Hrisp commented.
A spray of water splashed them from the side, where an awfully large guy with cow horns was liberally drenching himself with a seventy gup water bottle.
“It is not luck, nor a test of the body,” he said in a jolly deep tone. “Whether you have the will to make it to the end, it doesn’t matter if you’re a fishman, or have great skill. It is to see what you will do to make it. A test of character.”
“And you know that how?” asked Hrisp.
“A wise warrior once said ‘when in doubt, trust your four stomachs’.” And then he charged straight on through, arrows and other projectiles whizzing past.
“He’s gonna make it,” Isaac muttered in disbelief.
“He got hit — no, he’s still going.”
The cow-horned man burst through a group of four, casually tossing a canid out of the way before pulling an arrow from his shoulder. All of a sudden, the ground turned to mud and he struggled to get out, grasping for the edges —
And then they were past him, and they heard his cry as O-BEE zapped him on his way out.
“Fireball!” someone yelled and Isaac instinctively ducked again. The tunnel lit up for a brief moment before returning to a dim LED-lit yellow.
Hrisp looked his way and Isaac didn’t need to be told that this was just the beginning of the first test. He didn’t know how far they were expected to run, nor how long this bombardment was going to last, but it was already eating at his nerves. And the more he ran, the more he began to worry.
I hope Sophia and Andri are alright.
+++
The distance between the front group and the one in the back widened. Skill-use turned scarce, as contestants realized they were in for the long haul and that every point of mana wasted was a point against them. The occasional skirmish still flared up in the section Isaac was zipping around in, trying to maneuver to where he’d last seen his companions at.
It wasn’t that easy. People had gathered up into general clumps for protection, but the moment external threats fell away it was as if they realized that whoever they were running with could still turn out to be their mortal enemy. All it took was one misfired skill, or for them to get too close for one side to start blasting.
The fighting was fiercest up front, which was why Isaac and Hrisp were keeping off the side and the middle. People wanted to win, but beyond that, nobody wanted to let anyone else become first and gain those extra points.
The group in front of him opened up. Isaac jumped over a girl clutching pants burned so hard they were fused to her skin. He gulped, forcing himself to keep on running.
The examiners have healers and teleports. She’ll live.
Just letting her lie there on the ground still drove a spike through Isaac’s heart. It felt wrong. Was this part of the exam testing how much they were willing to leave each other behind?
A sudden surge of heat had Isaac flinching as he looked to his right. An orb of water was floating next to Hrisp, steam running away as it must have taken the brunt of a [Fireball], one of the most ubiquitous offensive skills. As he commanded the water with a gesture like he was tugging on rope to flow back into his set of bottles, Hrisp looked back at Isaac with an I should have let that hit you expression
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Right. Not part of Ortho’Wuur’s plans, but definitely not here to help me either.
“What skill was that?” Isaac asked.
“[Shape Water], supported with [Efficiency]. Weak, but versatile. Useful in many ways, like krill, or rope. Works like telekinesis under water. We all take it for our first Tier.” He glanced over at Isaac, but Isaac didn’t tell him what his skill was.
Hrisp seemed like a reliable guy, just… not right now.
“Do you always need to do that hand motion to activate it?” Isaac asked.
“Do you not?” Hrisp asked in confusement. “I am not a beginner, therefore I need not yell my skill name. Each skill has its difficulties, and most people choose to yell a skills name to ease their sense of directions it.”
Not so with [Cavitate]. Don’t have to aim that — yet another small beneficial aspect.
“Either way, you’re medium range, and I’m more of a close-in guy.” Isaac commented. “My skill works in mysterious ways.”
“Ah. And what is it?”
The official P’Cleek translation is ‘ear-cruncher’, which I guess isn’t inaccurate if you live under water.
It was also illegal to use in every single merfolk enclave. So, not something he was likely to reveal anytime soon.
“It’s a secret. Oh hey look, someone’s fighting again.”
A crescent slash of mana flew close over their heads. Whoever was using their skills so liberally was exhausting themselves on the first test. Worse yet, they were forcing everyone nearby to escalate in turn, or weather skills with little answer or response. Which, without enchanted gear, was like asking someone to get hit by a car and walk it off, repeatedly.
They arrived at where Sophia and Andri had been, relative to the rest of the contestants, but they were nowhere to be seen. The feeling in his gut that had been brewing for the last minute spiked. What if they were already out? What if they were hurt?
Ahead, he spotted a boy, roughly seventeen, and his wolf familiar, encircled by a group of six others that were taking their turns kicking him in the back and jeering at him. The wolf was frothing at the mouth with anger as he tore into one of their bags, ripping it open, and earning a mace to its back leg in return.
“Seriously?” Isaac yelled, dodging a good fifteen square meters of spiky caltrops of all things.
“It is the privilege of the many to declare the few their prey,” Hrisp remarked dryly, as if he was just observing a bunch of ants pulling a beetle apart. “They are — where are you going?”
“To ruin someone’s day.”
Isaac gained some speed. The group of six had weapons drawn, swords and axes and daggers all. He jumped right into their middle.
“Miladies. M’dudes.”
He gave them the finger and his light ring flashed, turning on and off like a strobe light. In the dim lighting of the underground, it was downright blinding. Isaac bashed one of them across the knee with his pok-ball bat, causing the guy to his right to crumple down. A strike aimed at him went wide, then another smacked him bluntly straight across the chest. The moment when [Cavitate] went off, everyone was pushed a meter away and off balance, gaining him just that little bit of breathing room.
Or it would have, but a girl used a skill awfully similar to [Quickstep] closed the distance right away.
He opened his hand and, pointed at her, and yelled: “Firebolt!”
Her dagger-eyes went wide, and she blurred as if an invisible force had moved her two steps back. Of course, no firebolt materialized. It took her half a second longer to realize this.
Oh, she looks pissed.
Then she was on him in the blink of an eye. The hot bite of cold steel brought him down from his short-lived high. The girl in padded armor — an archer of some kind judging by her shortbow — had her dagger stuck right in his shoulder. It hurt like hell, and then a bit more. He tried to move his pok-ball arm, but it reacted only sluggishly.
Poison then, a low-end paralyzing one, not enough to stop your heart, but enough to cripple you for a while.
You wanna fight dirty? You ain’t seen nothing yet.
Since she was stuck like a limpet, he reared his other hand back, set the ring to maximum, and punched her in the nose before squishing her against the wall.
“Motherfuuucker!” she yelled, covering her face as she stumbled off him and disappeared in the crowd behind.
Two down, only… only four to go.
His pok-ball arm felt stiff from shoulder to elbow.
This was a mistake.
Hammond had never properly introduced to him how to fight multiple people at once besides saying that ‘if you’re fighting two on one, you’ve already lost’, but that was before he had gotten his skill. And they still had to keep running, as dueling in place would inevitably mean getting zapped when O-BEE came by.
“Maerdon’s sake, tell me beforehand when the last thimble of brain cell leaves through your ears,” he heard a friendly voice spit. Hrisp walked up to him, shooting a squall of water straight at one of the two heavily armored opponent’s eyes. “You are either stupid, or insane. What were you even hoping to achieve?”
“A clean conscience? Crap, that hurts.” And their leader, the largest guy, was already barreling towards him with shield and mace in hand. “Any chance I could duel you one on one?”
“No,” the armored man said, raising his mace. “Goodbye.”
With a sudden squeak, the guy tripped, slamming onto the ground hard. Isaac stared as Andri ran up alongside him, emanating a sort of hiccup-like laugh. He looked insufferably smug.
“What did you do?” Isaac asked.
<
Andri made a quick swishing motion with his dagger. There was barely a speck of blood on it.
<
“True words, young assassin, ah-hah-hah.” They both turned in horror at the mannequin that was all of a sudden right next to them. O-BEE wasn’t even running, just floating as if he hadn’t gotten the memo about the laws of gravity.
Everyone in the crowd formed a generous no-go zone around them as they kept chugging along. He was high tier, possibly double-digit. The sense of strength and danger emanating from him was practically physical.
Andri, meanwhile, didn’t care, preening at the compliment.
<
“That you are, little Randzjack. But your friend tried to drown his enemy.”
They both looked to Hrisp, who seized up. “Ah, suffocation is not immediately lethal?”
Isaac blinked.
Oh god I’m surrounded by assassins.
“True.” The mannequin-boy floated there for a while before turning to Isaac. “Nice skill. It’s usually used at range, you know.”
“I… can’t.”
Those large, painted-on eyes felt like they were staring right into his soul.
“Ten bonus points for selfless behavior,” he yelled all of a sudden. His words seemed to electrify the air around him. Suddenly, Isaac felt everyone’s eyes on him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Then a five-kilo rock flew over his head, stopping inches in front of another contestant’s face as O-BEE caught it, his head turning a full 180 degrees like an owl.
“You in the red shirt — disqualified for attempted murder.”
“It was an accident.”
“Manslaughter then,” O-BEE said as he zipped over and zapped the offender so hard you could see his bones through his skin before teleporting him away.
That left them in the empty space made by people too afraid to approach them.
“That was… mildly terrifying,” Isaac said. Then he jogged ahead, to the boy and his wolf that had been harried by the group of six. They had dispersed further back. “Hey, you alright bud?”
The boy shook his head. “Borzo is hurt.”
The wolf was still traipsing along with everyone else, but he had a notable limp to his gait.
“Does anyone here have a healing skill?” Isaac asked with a loud voice.
But nobody came forward. Nobody wanted to help a competitor who was guaranteed to fall away, even if it might give them some points. Either that, or nobody was in a place to help.
Are healing spells really that rare?
“It’s ok. Thanks for trying,” the boy said and then stopped running to hug his wolf familiar. “I give up—”
O-BEE appeared and disappeared with him with the snap of a finger.
Isaac only slowly tore his stare back forward. He felt hollow. When he thought about the adventurer exam, he had imagined a competition in the same way something like a world cup, the olympics, or the Bar-ya of Bodily Improvement and Peak Physique was held. But there was no feeling of sportsmanship or even mutual respect to be found here. A tragedy had happened, people averted their eyes and moved on, glad that it wasn’t them..
“Where’s Sophia?” he asked Andri.
<
He pawed off Isaac’s backpack, which he had been carrying, back to him.
<
“Sure.” His arm twinged and felt hot as he slung the backpack over.
Is this what it means to be an adventurer? To trample over so many other people?
This test had to have some sort of deeper meaning, it had to be looking for some desirable quality. But what was it? Even as he kept on running, the sound of combat slowly dying away as enough contestants were sorted out, Isaac couldn’t find the answer.
“My god, what a slaughter,” the voice of the mannequin echoed in his mind. “Are you sure you’re really the good guys? Ah-hah-hah-hah-hah!”