The training room went quiet when they all got the message. Frank shared a look with the others, and barely a second or two later, the prompt appeared, followed by the voice he’d heard on his first day in this world.
Greetings, Champions.
It is my pleasure to announce the first event of the 53rd Celestial Trials.
Tinecea, the city where you currently find yourselves, direly needs your help.
You might have heard how travelers and merchants stopped using the western roads. You might have heard of how common disappearances have become in recent months, and you might have even encountered odd and uncannily smart beasts in the wilds.
What you might not have known is that Tinecea isn’t the only city affected. Further west, whole villages were slaughtered. In the north, the town's citizens sleep with weapons under their pillows, praying they won’t be the ones to disappear from their beds that night.
This terror… these incidents are not random.
A chimera has established its territory nearby. It has recruited goblins, and it may have Hosts under its control. The authorities do not know what this chimera is planning, but one thing is certain and has been confirmed by our oracles: if nothing is done about it, Tinecea will fall within days.
Your task, Champions, is to prevent the fall of Tinecea.
The Trial will take place over three days. On the second dawn, the Silver restriction will be lifted.
The initial quest will be to scout, find, and catalog the threats the city faces. Explore, find answers, and help whenever and however you can. This is a crisis, but times of upheaval are also rife with opportunities and are often the crucible in which heroes are created.
Quests will be given to groups and individuals whenever requirements are met, and every quest and achievement accomplished will be seen as a contribution to saving the city and will be rewarded as such.
As for those who do not contribute enough, there will be eliminations from the competition. There will be only spots for half of you, meaning no more than 125 Champions will get to the next Trial. You can track your contribution through the leaderboard. For those in teams, your contribution—aside from personal achievements—will be averaged between team members.
Remember: you are not safe from death. If you think you’re in imminent danger, trigger your lifeline. The feature is now unlocked. Your Deck’s enchantment is not foolproof. Do not risk your life unnecessarily.
The Bounty system has been upgraded and is now enabled through your interface, no matter where you are.
Prepare well, fight bravely, and save the city.
Best of luck,
— Lady Angela
Frank shared a look with Esther and Salem, while Wilbur continued studying the message.
“Should we call it? We’re paying that guy by the hour?” Esther said, nodding toward the healer who seemed busy in thought. Maybe these messages weren’t for Champions only.
Frank shook his head. “I think we still need to work on team cohesion. Maybe we can do some 2-on-2 for an hour or two. After that, we can start preparing.”
Before they could continue, a gold-rimmed notification arrived in their interfaces.
Difficulty: Silver-rank
Start: In 18h54mn - Assigned living quarters.
Once teleported within range of the chimera’s territory, scout and find the lieutenants. Collect information about the chimera’s movements, their plans, and their involvement with goblins. Find where the kidnapped villagers are being held, where the goblins are based, and where they came from.
Find what is being prepared and how this endangers Tinecea.
Reward: Variable per relevant information discovered.
— Voice of the Automaton
“At least we won’t get stuck in traffic,” said Esther as she got up. She dusted off her pants and looked down at the two still sitting men. “We know the theme for this first part, but let’s keep the bounties for after. We should get some work done.”
Frank nodded. He turned to Salem and Wilbur. “Do you guys know about these chimeras? What are they?”
“A ritual of renewal gone wrong. Done by butchers for one misguided ambition or another,” said Salem, a somber look in his eyes.
Wilbur looked up at Salem, then back to Frank, and shook his head. “I... don’t know. I haven’t heard about them other than they are monsters. I know about the ritual of renewal though. It’s what happens when we choose our next class, right?”
Salem nodded. “Yes. But accidents don’t happen when it’s the Automaton that oversees the ritual. It’s only when some megalomaniac bastards decide they want to try their hand at creating a new being or a new class that a chimera is born.”
“You boys getting up or what?”
Frank, Salem, and Wilbur looked up at her, then they trudged behind her toward the center of the training space.
“Meeting around lunch to make a list of everything else we might need,” said Frank, raising his sickle. “Me and Wilbur. Salem, create space for Esther. 3.2.1. Go!”
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A noble home in the Theocracy of Pyr
As the Champions read the announcement, explored the new options they had in their interfaces, and swarmed the Agents in the Hall, a copy of the first Trial went out to the public.
To those who would watch, follow the competition, bet, and most importantly, make plans.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
The Trials were both loved and dreaded. They were opportunities to amass power and wealth for all ranks, no matter if one was a Bronze work hand or an actual god. And they were a battleground between larger factions as well. A proxy war of sorts, and in that war, many mistakes could bring down the prestige of a faction or even be the first domino that will see it be annihilated.
Mistakes like sponsoring a lame Champion, posting the wrong bounty, crossing those who should not be crossed, by accident or on purpose.
If a powerful lord–or even a well-off adventurer–posted a quest that requested the disqualification of a specific Champion, and that Champion happened to be the favorite of a demi-god, or worse, of a full god?
Well. They’d be lucky if all that they got was a string of bad luck.
Bounties for valuable items could be created. Cards, treasures, gems, rare bones, and special herbs. Rare valuables created, nourished, or collected by the Automaton and hidden through the grounds of the Trials.
Valuables it places at the feet of Champions to empower them or give them some negotiating power with the established powers of the realm.
With all that in mind, Tarchon composed the bounty as ordered, while the elders conferred among themselves.
“Was it there all this time?”
“It might not be the same one.”
“It has to be. It’s working with goblins. They’re both from Meadhá—”
“Don’t speak that forsaken realm’s name,” cut in the high-elder.
The others grew quiet, then someone else spoke. “We haven’t looked that far, but we’ll need to confirm.”
“It kept itself well hidden. That cursed thing,” another spat.
The Pyrelord sighed, then drank from his wine. The elders went quiet again and waited for him to speak. “If it is ours, we have to retrieve it. No matter the cost. Make sure our bounty for it is the highest. I don’t think any other faction would care so much about a random chimera. Start low, but you can go as high as 10,000 AP for it. Add shells and golds if needed as well, we have plenty of those. Guarantee a minimum of a hundred mid-grade shells for any aspect requested.”
The Pyrelord put down his cup. “Have the bounty posted within the next five minutes. Fewer chances for anyone to complain then.”
The only sound in the room was the scratching of pen on paper. When it stopped, the Pyrelord spoke again. “Are you done, scribe?”
“Yes, your highness,” Tarchon said, standing up from his corner desk. He walked toward the servant between him and the prince and half-bowed as he tended the parchment.
The servant did the same, giving the parchment to the prince.
The quicksilver eyes of the Pyrelord read the bounty, nodded, then they shone. Seconds later, the parchment shimmered for a second, then dissolved into motes of light.
He stood up and turned to the highest-ranking elder. “Watch the auction and make sure we get our bounty through. We have to retrieve the chimera. Alive, if possible.”
“Of course, your highness,” the elders chorused and bowed. Tarchon did the same and felt the knot in his chest loosen when the heavy aura finally left the room.
He looked at the auction through his interface and watched the hundreds of bounties being created and auctioned, and he prayed, prayed, that their own would get through, or there would be hell to pay from the Pyrelord.
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In a soul realm, anchored a continent away from Tinecea.
Sekhmet put down her teacup as she eyed the large mirror displaying the details about the first trial. Her brows knotted, and her whiskers twitched. “Why does Tinecea sound familiar?”
Aisa picked at her dessert without looking up. “Hemiunu’s lost city.” She noticed how the room quieted as she spoke.
The patrons always hoped she’d slip and say something they could report to their faction or include in their plans, but she was most definitely not the only one who made the connection.
Sekhmet’s lips stretched into a toothy grin. “Oh, this sounds like fun. Did you know? Of course, you did. Why didn’t you tell me? We’re friends, Aisa.”
Aisa shrugged. “If I said anything, at least one or two factions would have had their people primed to cheat. If they can afford to watch me non-stop, they can afford to comb through every Trial ground then feed that to their Champions.”
A few backs stiffened in the lower rung of Hestia’s teahouse, and both Aisa and Sekhmet grinned.
The Felinah purred as she eyed the other spies. “You’d think they’d have better things to do once they became demi-gods. But I guess some are only meant to serve.”
All around them, lower gods and demi-gods scrambled to get answers, and most questions revolved around a single question:
What was Rustom planning? And how can we block it and/or profit from it?
Aisa sipped from her tea and smiled.
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Back in the Hall.
A woman in a ring scowled as she vented her anger and frustration by cracking ribs and bloodying noses in the sparring arenas. Sabah didn’t overthink the Trial. That was Alex’s job.
Her companion, reviewing his notes in the nearby bleachers, watched occasionally and kept an eye out for their new teammates. They had to talk and prepare. He saw the masked half-elf that they’d been unable to hire sitting further away.
In the food courts, a team of four sat down around a food-laden table and argued.
“We should aim for the chimera. Look at how much these people are offering,” said Esther adamantly. While Frank and Salem both disagreed, they each did for a different reason.
“Everyone’s going to go after it. And we’re all in the top 10 most wanted. Whoever doesn’t back the chimera’s going to try to bag us,” reminded Frank.
“The Pyrelord is a colossal piece of shit, and if he wants the chimera, then I don’t want to hand it to him,” said Salem.
“We can try to find the city…” All three looked at what Wilbur was projecting in the team chat.
“There are really not that many details. How are we supposed to find this hidden city?”
“The reward isn't that impressive either,” said Frank, though his eyes were drawn to the missing poster.
They began arguing again, each one pointing to the bounties they thought were best, while a few tables away, a group roared in celebration, their hands eager and tight on blades they would soon drench in the blood of their ancestral enemies. They toasted mead and liquor, never forgetting to pour some over the altar facing their massive table in prayer.
The trolls were given a space elsewhere, something they appreciated more than tables and clean marble floors. In the giant cavern they chose for their own, they sat around a roaring fire, drumming, dancing, eating, and singing, the fire reflecting in resolved, pitch-black eyes.
Other Champions, backed by powerful factions, socialized in the common spaces of the Hall, confident in their abilities and the intelligence they’d been given.
Some trained in the facilities made available by the Automaton. A select few were in different realms altogether, having been granted audience and favor by their patrons.
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15 minutes to the start of the Trial
Esther looked at a small notepad. “Do we have everything? Camping equipment?”
Wilbur raised a hand. “Yes.”
“Rations?” she asked.
Salem’s lips drew into a line. “We’ve got better meals than rations.”
Frank rolled his shoulder. “We got everything. And even if we forgot something, we’re out of gold and AP. We’ll be fine. We just need to do better than half the other Champions and we’re set.”
Esther raised an eyebrow at him. She looked like she’d just had to swallow a lemon. “Better than half? I’m not starting my new life aiming for mediocrity, Frank. We’re aiming for the top or we’re dropping you off the team. Right guys?”
She turned to Wilbur and Salem, and Frank noticed that the stress was getting to them. Both seemed a bit pale and stony-faced.
Then he noticed the look Esther was giving him and it dawned on Frank. This was her weird way to distract them from stressing out about what was coming.
Frank played along for a bit, then soon enough, the fifteen minutes were up.
An Agent stepped through the front door, and all four walked toward it.
“Please hold hands and stand still. Transfer in 3…2…1…Now.”
The world flashed around Frank. Gravity–no, reality–dissolved around him. He couldn’t tell up from down, and the only thing that made sense was the warm hand he had in his grip.
Then they all hit the ground with a chorus of groans.
Frank looked up and found himself in a new clearing.
“I’m gonna barf,” said Esther as she covered her mouth.
Frank looked around and couldn’t help but remember the similarity of the area and the circumstances of his first day around.
He pulled up the quest and noticed the new line at the top.
Time remaining: 71h 59m
Frank exhaled and looked at his team as they picked themselves up. “Clock’s ticking. Let’s move.”