A sizable number of Nassau's players were officially drunk. Or stuffed to bursting. Or both. And they weren't the only ones. The general volume of the promenade had increased to night club levels, with music blaring and people shouting to be heard.

Mason sat looking off his balcony feeling mostly miserable. He'd eventually spotted Blake down there near a giant leaf, sitting with Annie and Seul-ki. His brother hadn't noticed him, and he'd soon looked away.

It was hard for Mason’s brain to comprehend how they weren't together against the world at that moment. Why Mason was up here surrounded by other people, people he'd only met a few months before. And Blake was down there.

The stupidity of it brought back a slow, simmering heat of anger, which swallowed the small pleasure Mason actually had, which was watching his people enjoy themselves.

"Fucking Blake," he muttered, pushing away his food.

"What's that, darlin'?" Becky shouted, grinning as she leaned into his side. Her bright smile and eyes made it hard even for Mason to be miserable. He smiled and put an arm around her.

"Just being gloomy."

"Well stop." Becky gave him a hug. She gestured at Carl attempting to show several players a drunken back flip and grinned. "Today's a good day. Sometimes you just have to enjoy."

Mason smiled for his beautiful country girl. But he knew he couldn't. He felt like a caged animal surrounded by other caged animals. A thousand predators locked up in roboGod's zoo.

Haley came back and locked his eyes as she reached the top of the stairs. She sat on his other side and leaned in close so she could talk without shouting, then told him what it was like in the civilian 'bazaar'.

Most of it didn't surprise him. Though he winced and cursed himself when she talked about prying eyes and questions.

"I should have realized and warned everyone in advance."

Haley squeezed his hand. "We all should have. But I think it won't matter much. And I met an interesting man who talked about this ‘city’ in the east."

Haley told him about the man she’d met and her various observations. Mason didn't say much, just taking it in. But eventually he agreed to let the civilians sell a good portion of the ore and crystals they'd excavated from the mine. He had a kind of central access in his patron profile, and set whatever permissions he wanted for the civilians. Though of course he just swiped and left it for Haley to sort out.

"Don't make it all available day one," he said. "A bit at a time over the week. Let them think it's scarce."

Haley grinned and nodded, then looked a bit more troubled.

"And food? We have far more than we need. Even after feeding the wolves and planting, there's all kinds of expiring things. We could probably even give some away."

"Sell it," Mason said after a moment to think. "But be fair. Don't gouge them. And don't let anyone buy it all."

Haley nodded again, then grinned at Becky and gave her a poke in the ribs across Mason's lap.

"You look drunk."

"Drunk on life maybe." Becky winked and tossed back another shot, then licked her lips and shrugged. "I think I'm gettin' screwed over like Mason. I can't even feel it anymore."

"That's good. You were a cheap drunk," Mason said, pushing some hair away from her face. She opened her mouth in mock outrage, then glanced around as if to see if they were being watched.

"You know. With all that loud music, and everyone busy and all. Maybe we could...sneak off. Before anyone noticed."

She ran her hands up Mason's chest, wrapping a long leg over his. It definitely wasn't the worst idea he'd heard. Especially when he noticed Haley practically salivating and pulling at Becky's leg to get it higher.

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The music died, the 'player promenade' quieting quickly as light shone from a central platform and television screen. Mason just wished he'd been surprised to be interrupted from genuine pleasure by system nonsense.

"Thank you, players, for your patience,” boomed a servant’s voice like it was speaking through a megaphone. “We hope you're enjoying yourselves in the Neutral Zone. As promised, a small list of tournament rules has been updated in your profiles. But we recommend checking with your civilians, because as usual they will have access to even more information."

Haley (and pretty much every visible player) had their eyes glazed as they read. Mason just waited. His paranoia was flaring again, though he wasn't sure exactly why. He felt a kind of tension in the air he didn't trust, his body feeling like a spring ready to release. He scanned and listened as he tried to figure out some kind of threat, not caring if it made no sense. Mason trusted his gut.

The central TV screen was flickering with light, then changed to smiling, happy human faces, sometimes displaying symbols that looked almost like bad Olympic knock offs.

"Also as promised, provided in your update is a small list of tournament rewards. But that's not all—please look to your screens now to see one of the very top prizes of the First Annual Friendly Player Competitive Tournament!"

Every screen in the promenade flared to life. It revealed a sealed chest that started to unlock, the invisible voice going on about 'ultra rare ability', and 'not to be found in the primary game world!'. It sounded a bit like that guy from the Price is Right.

Inside the chest was a simple black sphere. It flashed with neon lights and colors as the screen launched fireworks and ribbons.

"The Grand Tournament Power Gem adapts to its user, detecting strengths and weaknesses to provide a unique, one-time choice from a list of three options! It can be inserted in any innate item, even producing its own gem slot if none is available. With three times the usual power energy, the Grand Tournament Gem will be invaluable to any player's class."

It was obviously valuable, and Mason was sure every person in the hall wanted it. But the system seemed to expect a round of raucous applause. The lights flashed, the fireworks blared, but pretty much every player sat in silence and stared.

The display finally died down, and the voice changed back to its far less dramatic, robotic tone.

[The Tournament will continue shortly. Players, please prepare yourselves. Half of you will be randomly selected for your next round in five minutes, with all fights broadcast in real time on the available displays. The other half will compete in one hour. Good luck. And please enjoy the Neutral Zone.]

Mason felt his jaw clench as the shoe dropped. The son of a bitch. He glanced over at his half drunk, fat bellied players and knew he should have trusted his instincts. The gifts were the danger.

"What's this now? Did it say five minutes?" Tommaso asked with a hand on his gut.

"Coffee." Mason stood and shouted. "Puke in corners. Slap each other in the face and drink cold water. I don't care how but wake the fuck up because half of us are fighting to the death in five minutes, the rest in an hour. Understood?"

Groans and disbelief followed, and Mason heard echoes of it all over the promenade. He pulled Becky to her feet and met her eyes, wishing he could sweep people with Ranger's Mark without getting his ass slapped by the system.

"You good?"

She rolled her neck and nodded, tossing away her glass with a growl.

"It let me order all the biscuits and gravy I could eat. This thing's a monster."

Mason snorted, thinking that was the understatement of the century. Then he moved around checking the others just to see what he was dealing with. Tommaso was pretty bad. Alex looked worse.

The Belarusian couldn't seem to keep his eyes focused, promising constantly he was perfectly fine until he actually tried to stand upright on his own.

"Fuck." Mason pulled the man into a corner and shoved some water in his face. "We haven't even been here that long. How did you get so drunk?"

"Had to keep up. To old man. Not fair."

"Drink it." Mason kept giving the man water, deciding it probably wouldn't hurt him to vomit. "And pray you don't go first."

"Pray," Alex repeated, gulping down the second glass with a burp. "Who's to listen?"

It was a good question, and definitely not one Mason had any intention of answering. The only 'God' who'd proven very real was a robotic psychopath, and he didn’t inspire much faith.

After making sure everyone was doing their best to sober themselves up, he reminded himself it was only a tournament, and losing didn't mean real death.

At least not today. But Mason knew now more than ever his players needed to keep whatever advantages they'd gained in strength by being in the west. They were horribly outnumbered and needed to capitalize on their advantage now. They needed to earn the best possible rewards from this tournament, then head home on an absolute mission to keep improving.

Because play time was over. When they got back home, Mason intended to take his players out of the protection of Nassau, and force them into more and more danger outside the safety of the great forest. They needed to roam, to test themselves, to learn. To get stronger.

The system voice pleasantly chimed in a few minutes later, reminding everyone it was almost time for another round, with the added excitement of being able to watch the combat in real time.

Mason gave his players a final nod, wishing them all luck, hoping few were chosen. But somehow he wasn't surprised when he saw damn near all of them start to fade. Then his own vision blurred as he warped into the black.