Right after I made my choice, the gray void faded, and I found myself in a circular room about sixty feet in diameter. Sconces holding torches provided light, which was good because there were no windows. The floor, walls, and domed ceiling were constructed of monotone blackish stone blocks, giving the space a cave-like feel. There were no doors, either. No way in or out.

More concerning than the lack of an exit was the creature facing me. It was short, less than three feet tall, and green with pointed ears, dull eyes, sharp, jagged teeth, and an emaciated body. As I watched, it picked a ginormous booger out of its oversized nose and flicked the filth at me before wiping its hand on its filthy loincloth, the only item of clothing it wore.

While I felt quite fortunate that the twenty feet separating us was enough to keep the booger from reaching me, I still shuddered. This, this … thing … was absolutely disgusting. Repulsive. Almost vulgar.

Base instincts I’d never before experienced screamed at me to attack it.

Despite that impulse, despite the creature’s savage appearance, despite me having specifically chosen a trial of combat, some part of me held out hope that I wouldn’t have to fight. Judging from the fact that it wore clothing, however rudimentary, this thing’s people must have some kind of civilization. Maybe I could reason with it, come to an equitable agreement.

Before I could speak, though, another blasted blue box appeared.

Two beings enter. One being leaves.

Shoot!

The instant the words melted away, the creature charged toward me, snarling viciously. Luckily, its short, stubby legs didn’t lend it great speed, making its advance ponderous and giving me time to react.

I’d like to say that I calmly analyzed the situation. I’d like to say that I quickly determined that, though the thing’s teeth certainly appeared dangerous, my longer reach granted me a huge advantage. I’d like to say that I utilized that insight to plan my next action.

Instead, my mind went completely blank. This was the first time anyone or anything had come at me with truly harmful intent, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I froze.

The best I could say about my response was that I didn’t turn in terror and flee.

What happened next was pure reflex born from countless hours on a soccer field. When the creature neared me, I stepped to the side and kicked. Hard.

My flattened foot connected with the creature’s stomach.

A soccer ball weighed about a pound. This being’s body was ten to twenty times that. It didn’t matter.

My legs were strong, toned. My form was perfect. The thing flew twenty feet before hitting the stone floor with its back and sliding another five.

That had to hurt, so for a moment, I just watched, hoping this ordeal, this part of it at least, was over. Instead, it slowly pulled itself upright and glared at me with pure hatred. Killing intent rolled off of it.

Undeterred by its prior lack of success, the creature ran at me again.

This time, I didn’t freeze. I sprinted just as hard toward it as it did toward me. My longer legs and stronger muscles gave me all the advantage. I was faster. An athlete. More agile. All those years of experience, all that coaching, every pass and every shot on goal I’d ever made led to this moment.

At the exact right instant, I planted my left foot and launched my right leg forward. Pele, Beckham, eat your hearts out.

Again, my foot connected with the creature’s midsection. Again, it went flying.

My forward momentum counted. The creature didn’t softly arch and land on the ground as it had previously. It slammed against the wall with a thud before sliding to the floor where it lay unmoving.

Wary of any tricks, I watched for several minutes. It still didn’t move.

“Okay,” I said finally. “I think knocked it out. Can I go now?”

Two beings enter. One being leaves.

The message was clear. Incapacitating my foe wasn’t enough. Death was required.

Man! This sucked so much. I’d never killed anything other than bugs in my life. I’d never even considered having to truly kill anything.

Slowly, reluctantly, cautiously, I walked toward the prone form. Bile rose in my throat.

From several feet away, I studied it intently. Its chest moved up and down responding to haggard, shallow breaths.

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I didn’t think it would be getting up anytime soon, but neither would it be expiring on its own, either. Shoot!

“You’re really going to make me do this? I’ve clearly won.”

Two beings enter. One being leaves.

I clenched my fists. If I ever met the entity responsible for these freaking blue boxes, killing it was going to be a lot easier than what I was about to do to this poor green creature.

After a few deep breaths to get my stomach under control, I finally moved to stand right next to it. I raised my foot over its head and closed my eyes.

How much I wished I’d been wearing hiking boots instead of running shoes cannot be adequately conveyed.

I stomped.

Splat!

The light, thin soles provided little protection. I felt bone give beneath my foot. I felt the squish of things that I didn’t even want to think about that its skull had been protecting.

If I had still been in that room when I opened my eyes, I was one hundred percent sure I would have thrown up. If any of the blood or … other stuff … had remained on my shoe, I was one hundred percent sure I would have thrown up.

As it was, opening my eyes once again in a gray void, holding down my breakfast was a near thing.

Congratulations! You have managed to pass the first round of the first trial, defeating a lone, weak, starved near to the bones goblin in one on one combat. Go you!

I had never been so glad of a blue box in my life. Much better to see a snarky message than a corpse.

Name: Penelope Abigail Mitchell Att: 0 HP: 1 Special: None Unallocated Points: 1

The addition of an unallocated point was new, my apparent reward for completing the first round. Let me just say that it so wasn’t worth it.

Still, regardless of any other factor, better to kill than to be killed, right?

Choose Between: Continue to Trial 1 Round 2 Quit While You're Ahead

In choosing combat first, I’d already pretty much committed to seeing this thing through the first three rounds, but digging for more information couldn’t hurt.

“What are the advantages of continuing, or failing that, the disadvantages of quitting?” I said.

You can chill out and wait for the first stage to be over rather than risking your life further. Duh!

Dipwad.

“I didn’t ask the advantage of quitting.”

Sigh. Fine.

If you quit now, your only choice will be to put your single unallocated point into Attack, making you a lowly 1/1, or, even worse, to become a completely worthless 0/2. Literally millions of people will be in the same position, making it unlikely any Commander will select you for their army.

“Why is not getting selected a bad thing?”

Who doesn’t want to fight for the survival of their planet?

“Let’s just pretend for a moment that fighting of any kind isn’t on the top of my to do list.”

There was a pause before the next box popped up, and I felt no small sense of satisfaction that I’d flummoxed the entity.

Those not in an army at the end of the third trial will be put into stasis. If your fellow Dirtlings lose to the Atjioatsjhuie, all those fighting will be dead, and those in stasis will be terminated. If your fellow Dirtlings somehow manage to repel the Atjioatsjhuie, the Commanders and their armies will decide how to proceed and when, or if, to bring the rest of the population out of stasis.

So if I quit, I’d likely be allowed to just go to sleep, and if I ever woke up at all, it would probably be after all this was over. I had to say that the arrangement was more than a little tempting.

If everyone took that attitude, though, humanity—at least the humans living on Earth, anyway, because I had no idea if there were others out there somewhere—was toast. My mom, my dad, Ben, my friends, Ashley and Amber—the little twin toddlers I babysat in high school. All gone.

Wait a second.

“Hey, you’re not making kids go through these trials, are you?”

TWRT are not without mercy. All Dirtlings under the age of thirteen are already in stasis.

“What about the elderly?” I said. “Or those in hospitals or otherwise not physically or mentally able to fight?”

Again, TWRT are not without mercy. All disabled Dirtlings who are of age were restored to a state deemed adequate for participation.

Oh. That was good, at least.

“Tell me truthfully,” I said, “will me continuing really make a difference?”

Your planet is facing an invasion from an older, stronger, more experienced race. Dirtlings need all the help they can get.

Crap on a cracker! When put in those terms, how could I not do literally everything in my power to hopefully save my loved ones. It was my turn to sigh.

“Very well, then,” I said. “I choose to continue.”