Noah didn’t know what he’d expected, but nothing happened as the timer hit zero. Looking up at the sky, Noah saw a translucent blue forcefield demarcating the area of the grid assigned to him, and he could imagine there were thousands, if not tens of thousands of grids where this exact event was playing out.
Profiling, Noah had to profile the sort of individual who would sign up for a trial like this- assuming they weren't forced into this mess like him- always better to plan for the worst-case scenario.
He had to remember that the 2,499 other people contesting this trial were volunteers, and hadn’t been forced to sign up for it like him by forces beyond his understanding. What sort of a man would risk his life for a vague promise of immortality? The younger sort, for sure. It was another one of his father’s sayings, ‘Maturity doesn’t come from reading a wise man’s words or trying to relive the experiences of others, but by making decisions you’d later look upon as a mistake, and wonder what in the nine hells were you thinking. Maturity comes by living life the way it’s meant to be.’
Who else? People who had nothing to lose, people with limited time left on Earth trying to find a solution to their problems, or people like him, who would go the extra mile for his family. Plus, what about actual criminals, people with no morals or bottom line? They’d be here too and arguing or negotiating with people like that would be pointless.
The translucent blue forcefield was a ways off from Noah, from all sides. But then again, assuming that the contractions would occur equidistantly could be a mistake. For now, he had no way of telling. Noah decided to move north-eastwardly, in a circular direction so he could get the lay of the land. Standing around and playing a passive game would only leave Noah without any bargaining chips, so he had to get some of those unique rewards the Tower kept saying were hidden on this floor.
As Noah walked deeper into the forest, he realized he’d underestimated the ‘eeriness’ of the experience. The only sound he could hear was his sneakers lightly crunching through forest debris, mainly dead leaves and the occasional broken branch, the towering trees that might have been an absolute joy to experience back on Earth twisted into the ideal cover for an ambushing enemy. Noah thanked his weapon choice, the trusty gladius held in his right arm- feeling like an extension of his body, the bit of handy dose of self-defense Noah was always missing in his life.
Only five minutes in, Noah noticed footsteps that didn’t belong to him- light, too numerous to belong to just one person, and fast- coming from the north. Friend or foe, monster or human – Noah didn’t know, but either way, he braced his gladius and faced that direction... he was a civilian, about to be thrust into a situation where his life would be in imminent danger and it showed. Noah felt his heart beat faster, perspiration trickle down his forehead, and for the tenth of a second, time itself seemed to slow down.
The voice of the footsteps grew closer in proximity, and the patch of shrubbery in front of him started shaking wildly. A thought bubbled up in Noah’s mind, telling him to run, telling him that he wasn’t built for this kind of lifestyle- but he forcibly suppressed it. Showing his back to a possible enemy at this stage would be suicide.
Guttural noises echoed out from behind the bushes, perhaps holding a conversation in some unintelligible language, followed by two green-skinned figures that were roughly four feet tall bursting out with rapid momentum.
Their physical makeup was humanoid, but there were a few stark differences that stood out like a sore thumb. Their backs were slightly crooked, making their posture slightly hunched forward, though that didn't seem to impede their movement. They had a vicious snarl plastered on their face, and pitch-black eyes that added to their ominous presence.
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One of them held a long, thin sword with a sharp point that looked like it was built for piercing with both hands, while the other held a dagger in a reverse grip, and both of them looked at Noah with the characteristic look of a predator stumbling upon a prey. Noah froze for a second, while the goblins had no such moral compunctions.
The Estoc wielding goblin charged towards Noah, and only at the last second did he regain his composure- basic survival instinct made his gladius explode with brute force, clashing with the Estoc and sending the goblin stumbling to the left- Noah winning the clash of brawn in this instance.
The second goblin had been tailing the first, using it as a decoy to mask its own movements. Seeing its opportunity, it gripped the dagger with an overhead grip, which was aimed near Noah’s heart factoring the height differential, and moved to impale Noah just as he’d rebuffed the first one.
Thankfully, the goblin’s small stature also meant it covered ground slower, and Noah barely managed to sidestep the blow by a hair's breadth. Noah felt a wave of anger coursing in his veins, anger at the unfairness of the situation, anger at being forced into a trial he wanted no business with, and his gladius wielding right hand swerved in a backward crescent slash as the goblin moved past him.
Noah heard a loud, squelching sound, realizing the random swing that he’d made in the spur of the moment had found a target. Noah could cancel the swing, but he didn’t and felt a burst of sticky blue liquid drench his backside.
By this time, the Estoc wielding goblin, who seemed completely unaffected by his comrade’s death, had reoriented itself and came at Noah for round two. This time, instead of trying to pierce through him, the goblin slashed with a double-handed swing, which Noah caught with his now bloodied gladius. Their weapons clashed, the terrible sound of steel grating on steel echoing out, and Noah saw an opportunity. His opponent had extended both his hands in his assault, while Noah had managed to block it with just one- before he’d finished thinking it through, Noah’s left hand flew through with a curved hook connecting directly with the goblin’s jaw.
It went stumbling back, its eyes blinking and appearing disoriented. Noah pressed forward, hacking with his gladius without any skill or reason. The first blow was barely blocked, the second left a long gash across its left arm, and the third landed straight in the middle of its skull.
The goblin’s eyes went white, and it fell backward with both its arms held outward, Estoc slipping out of his hands with a thump on the ground.
“COME!!!” Noah exclaimed triumphantly, the adrenaline speaking through him as he sorted out the equal parts disgust and the equal parts glory he felt. He had killed what appeared to be a creature that had the intelligence to communicate, but he’d done so in self-defense. That was good enough for Noah for now.
“Oi, lad. DUCK!” a voice echoed out from behind him, in a thick British accent. His pupils narrowed in horror as he realized that he had heard that voice before, it was the owner of the hand! A dreadful sensation engulfed him, but he decided to obey the voice for now. If a poltergeist wanted to harm him, he was dead or worse off anyway. Apart from consigning him to damnation, it hadn’t tried to harm him further, and something about the tone instinctively made him trust it. The tone seemed more out of concern than a twisted desire to mess around with him, so he obeyed and dropped to his knees.
He felt something blow past the top of his head, and he watched in stupefaction as a blue-skinned goblin holding a dagger landed in front of him, combat rolling a few times to stabilize its fall.
He realized that he had just narrowly avoided a goblin assassination attempt thanks to the mysterious voice's assistance. His embarrassment was palpable, going from a mighty warrior gloriously proclaiming victory, to a mouthy, immature idiot that was asking for an assassination.
After coming that close to meeting the God of Death, Noah wasn’t in a mood for mercy- So he pushed himself back up with his left hand and brought his gladius down on the goblin’s neck without wasting any further time. With a small dagger in its hand, it never had any real chance to parry... dying an unexpected death at Noah’s hands.
Like his dad used to tell little Noah, 'you can do everything right and still lose,' after his team had suffered a crushing defeat despite Noah's stellar performance with the bat.