ENTERTAINMENT (1)

Niwa was ready. It wasn’t that he felt particularly filled with strength on the day, nor did he feel especially intelligent either. But he had always had a good grasp of his own mind, and today he knew that he was ready.

Hundreds began the climb every year, each with a goal in mind, an aim to achieve, a wish to ask the king, should they reach the top. Niwa had no such questions. Anything he would achieve, he would do it with his own hands, by his own merits. Where was the fun, after all, in having everything handed to you on a platter?

It was this same reasoning that brought him down to this level, the lowest he had gone in his life. Because he wanted to start from the beginning; build his castle from scratch. It would be cheating to start when someone else had already built the foundation, after all.

Coupled with the fact that his branch of the family had kicked him out, he had every reason to be walking down this road.

Neon lights shone on his pale face as he walked through outer level one. It was his first time there but he looked completely at home, as though he had made this walk thousands of times before. White shirt, black tie, briefcase slung over his shoulder, striding through the neon cityscape, like the hundreds of others in the crowd around him. His shirt was suitably clean, his tie suitably new, his trousers suitably pressed. There were few things differentiating him from the others around him – the main being strength.

No one knew when the Summits had started frequenting the first level. However, there was a well known legend that said that, in a fit of nostalgia, the head of the Jin Family had descended down to a dank pub in a remote corner of the First Floor and drowned his sorrows back where it had all began. Since then, others followed, and it had eventually flourished into the bright Summit entertainment district it was today.

Niwa doubted the autenticity of the legend. It seemed unlikely that, a first-rate Summit – a family head at that – had lowered themselves to drinking amongst mere pre-Scalers. He had met many Summits from his own family, and only one he had met would lower their dignity to drown in alcohol rather than their own arrogance.

But then again, maybe the existence of that one Summit was what proved that the story could be possible. Either way, it was unlikely as hell.

Ignoring its origins, it was certainly true that the Entertainment Distric in the first level was a favourite haunt of many Summits. The saying went, after all, that theWih highest concentration of Summits in one place could be in one of two places: The King’s Army Headquarters, or the first level Grand Casino on a Friday night.

However, Niwa wasn’t here to enjoy the pleasantries. He had a much more serious purpose – to begin his climb.

It wasn’t done anymore, starting from the first level. Starting the climb was rare in itself; there was an unofficial strength barrier that prevented many from even attempting the climb. Those who did, would start from comfortable positions higher up in the Mountain – these people generally being of bluer blood, would begin from family territories in and around the twentieth level or so. The King had set the maximum bound to level fifty, after all.

And of these Scalers, it is said that only one in a thousand would reach the top and become a Summit, the rest dying on the way. These figures whispered in the ears of the Mountain’s residents was enough to ensure low participation rates among non family members. Yet, somehow, these few Summits would gather in their thousands to party under the neon lights of level one Entertainment District.

Niwa personally found it quite amusing.

He strode into an alley, cutting past the crowd before turning back onto the main road, ahead of the crowds. With a hint of curiosity, he glanced at his watch. 20:24. Ah. That would explain the crowds.

At the end of the human train, would no doubt be the coliseum.

The blonde wondered what it was that these literal gods found interesting about some low-level pre-Scalers beating each other to death. He supposed that the sight of injury would get the blood of the old-schoolers rushing.

Of the fifty-thousand or so Summits, three-fifths of them formed the bulk of the King’s army, ruling and invigilating forces spanning the entirity of the Mountain. The rest formed the bulk of the crowds on the first floor.

Not that the Entertainment District covered the entire level, although it did take up more than half. It was just that the original residents had faded into irrelevance with the constant influx of Summits.

One could almost forget that almost all the Summits themselves were born and bred in the Mountain, just like the inhabitants of the first floor’s outskirts.

Niwa took another turn, off the main road and into a side road, still crowded with noise and light but not to the extent of the previous road. Inwardly he cursed at the winding nature of the district, and the complexity of his route.

But with a final turn and a look to the left, he was finally at his destination.

In front of him stood a slightly rundown building, decorated with grimy windows partly covered with advertisements and a flickering display that read:

DPT. OF SCALING

Register for your official scaling pass here!

And in a slightly larger and more well maintained sign, shouted the words in splendour:

ZHENDONG’S ARMS

Ales and Fine Wines

‘...’

So perhaps the interest in scaling had decreased a lot more than had been accounted for. It was of no matter. He had found his passport into the inner level, after all. That was, if this building still served its king-assigned purpose. With some trepidation, Niwa pushed open the faded blue door, and stepped into the King’s official scaling office for the first level.

A pot-bellied man sat behind a dirty wooden counter. One hand gripped a glass and the other a cloth; he had apparently fallen asleep halfway through his bartending duties – unsurprising, given the lack of customers. A crowd of flies swarmed an overflowing bin in the far corner, with seperate groups attacking stains left on grimy tables, one of which served use as a pillow for a person in a similar state of unconsciousness, whose face was hidden by a worn red scarf.

A fly left its squadron to land on Niwa’s shoulder.

He squished it between two fingers.

“Excuse me.”

The man didn’t stir from his rest. Damnit. Niwa was sorely tempted to crack that glass over the man’s head, yet he doubted that such an action would lead to himself achieving his desired outcome.

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This man was supposed to be a Summit, after all. Someone who had powered through the one hundred and forty-nine levels and met the King at the top.

Sighing, Niwa approached the counter and took a seat on one of the less dirty chairs tucked under it. Maybe he should have opted in for the more easily achievable illegal option. Then again, the risks heavily outnumbered the pros. But at least he wouldn’t have to deal with this crap.

And he didn’t imagine that he had the required skills to complete the registration process himself – he wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Ah well. All this required, in the end, was patience. And if there was something that Niwa knew that he had in surplus, it was patience.

A chair scraped the ground behind him.

Niwa glanced back at the man in the chair behind him. It wasn’t a man, he realised, but rather a youth of age similar to his own. He was stretching tiredly, stopping to rub the sleep from his eyes.

The youth squinted up at the bulb hanging from the ceiling in annoyance at its offending brightness. He sat up straight with a yawn, and turned to the counter.

Niwa greeted him with a raised hand. “Yo.”

His sleepy expression vanished, as the youth’s eyes widened in the realisation that he was not alone. He raised a hand uncertainly. “Hello.”

Niwa flashed a grin. This man didn’t have the presence, nor the temperament of a Summit, or even a Scaler. This was someone he could talk to.

He gestured at the sleeping bartender. “Are you waiting for him?”

The youth nodded.

In some satisfaction, Niwa leaned back against the table in a show of relaxation. Maybe he could gleam some info from this guy.

Injecting some annoyance into his tone, he asked, “How long has he been out?”

He caught the flicker in the youth’s eyes towards the window, before he turned to the clock hanging above the drooling barman. “A few hours. I decided to wait.”

Interesting.

Niwa changed the flow of the conversation. “What brings you here?” He said, glancing behind him.

There was a pause. “Wanted to try his fine wines.”

Fine. He hadn’t expected him to answer truthfully anyway. This guy had proven himself to be interesting, in the span of that short conversation. Niwa raised a hand towards the youth.

“Niwa Jun.”

The youth looked at him uncertainly, with some confusion in his eyes.

“My name.” He added. This guy was getting more interesting with every action he made.

Eyes widened in realisation, before the boy grabbed Niwa’s hand and shook it with his own. He noted its dirtied and hardened nature.

“Jafi.” No surname. No family. An orphan? Possibly. Stating your family to another family member was a rule, after all. He wouldn’t have left it out.

But if he had no family… then what? It didn’t add up. The jigsaw pieces in Niwa’s mind wouldn’t fit together.

He’d looked outside to check the time; a movement of someone used to checking the sun or moon, not someone from the entirely built up first level. He’d seen similar movements in family members in their territories around the fiftieth level.

So someone who had descended down to the first level. But not a Summit, clearly, by his wariness, his actions, his attitude. Maybe someone like himself, Niwa had supposed.

But not part of one of the nine families. Descending levels without being part of a family was possible. But difficult. A summit could do it, certainly. And maybe a ninth grade Scaler. But for anyone below that level…

And his expression, when he had given his name. It was confused, not fearful. Like someone who hadn’t heard of such a name before. And who hadn’t heard of the nine families?

‘This guy is interesting. I want to have him on my side.’

“Who’re you two jokers?”

A tired, croaked voice came from behind him. Jafi’s expression brightened. Niwa turned on his seat, and looked at the Summit.

The bartender wore a light blue shirt, which threatened to open under the pressure of his sizeable stomach. He had a light stubble of someone who didn’t really give a damn of what others thought of him. His collar was grimy, his armpits stained and his hair was unkempt.

‘A disgusting specimen of a Summit.’

“Yo!” Niwa greeted him cheerfully. “I’m Niwa. He’s Jafi. We met waiting for you to wake up. We’ve come to register as Scalers.”

He felt the narrowed eyes behind him, but also noted the lack of denial. Niwa grinned internally. His mental profile of the youth behind him became more substantial.

Meanwhile, the bartender chuckled. The chuckle grew into a laugh, and in a moment, he was laughing his lungs out, banging on the table, causing the glasses to jump on the spot, as though he had told the most superior joke in the world.

The laugh halted abruptly when a glass fell off the shelf and smashed onto the ground behind the counter, covering the floor in shards.

“Crap.” The barman glanced down at the floorboards in annoyance. “I’m gonna have to clean that later.”

Niwa narrowed his eyes. The glass shards hadn’t left a mark on him.

The barman turned back to them. “Listen kids, no one starts the climb from the first level anymore. It just isn’t done. This place is a dump for Summits to drink themselves to death. You.” he gestured at Niwa. “You said you were a Jun?”

The blonde gave a nod in confirmation.

“You look it. Why the hell’re you down here anyway? Shunt yourself back up to your home level and start the climb from there.”

There was a silence.

“And you.” He pointed a grubby finger at Jafi. “Sorry kid. The first level residents… you have no hope to scale the Mountain. The growth of the Entertainment District has done wonders for the economy, but has killed off any hope of first level residents accomplishing anything in life. Go home and get a job.”

Niwa glanced at the youth behind him, who stared expressionless at the barman in front of him, and his lips twitched in amusement.

But none of them moved.

“Listen, sir.” Began Niwa politely. “No disrespect to you, but I have made my mind up to start from this level. As for my friend here, I can’t speak for him, but...” He glanced back.

Jafi raised an eyebrow at the address of ‘friend’, but nodded in agreement.

“So,” The blonde continued in satisfaction, “if there is anything that we could do to change your mind sir...”

The pot-bellied man peered at them, with narrow eyes, before turning around, and grabbing a broom. He began to sweep the shards off the floor.

“Nope. Go home.”

“Sir,” Niwa interrupted, “I wonder, if you might be interested in something I acquired recently.”

The barman paused for a moment, before continuing to sweep the floor. “Ha.” He snorted dismissively. “I doubt anything a pre-scaler has would interest me.”

With a thump, the blonde lifted the briefcase and placed it on the countertop. Jafi watched it in interest, and the barkeep eyed it suspiciously, slowing his cleaning.

Niwa grinned. He swivelled the briefcase around, obscuring it from Jafi’s view whilst showing the front to the bartender, and opened the case.

The barman’s eyes widened, as he stared at the object in the case. “Well, kids.” he said, his eyes not moving from the object. “It appears that I may be able to assist you.”

Jafi raised his eyebrows at the blonde, but knew better than to look a gift-horse in the mouth. The youth with the scarf kept silent.

Niwa smiled. “How would we go about gaining Scaling passes by legal means?”

“Well, as of now, I, by myself, am unable to operate the press. But,” he continued, before he could be interrupted, “if my boss was here, we could fix you up with a pass in no time.”

The blonde moaned internally. ‘Of course. Just my bloody luck.’

“If you could wait, a few hours, Boss Zhendong will turn up eventually.”

Annoying, but acceptable. When a Summit was said to be immortal, what use was there in worrying about a few hours?

“Too long. Where is he?”

Out of the barman’s view, Niwa turned and looked at the youth behind him, but he felt like glaring. What was this idiot doing? His impatience could damn well get the bartender to refuse.

But he calmed himself. This guy looked intriguing. His presence would probably come useful in the future.

The barkeep’s eyes narrowed, as they focused on Jafi. “At this time? Probably at the coliseum.”

The scarf kid made to stand up.

Crap. Should he follow? An almost certain deal on one hand, but on the other, a possibly useful contact for the future.

Niwa weighed the possibilities in his head, then turned to the barman apologetically. “I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t part with the goods as of now?”

A grunt in reply.

Waving at the bartender, the blonde turned and followed the dark-haired youth out the door, in his head cursing his bad fortune.