“Where’s Ryan?” Lisa asked him.
“Huh? Who’s Ryan?”
Micah stood like a statue in a crowd beyond the wall of the Tower again. A very nervous statue, in a very large crowd. He was fully equipped, too, since he had no idea what to expect. The information sheets had just said to come equipped “prepared for an excursion into the Tower,” whatever that meant.
In Micah’s case, it was good boots, thick shirt, long pants, chainmail armor, arm and leg guards, both belts, dagger, spare knife, slingshot, pouch of hand-picked rocks from the park, fresh batch of glue-balls, two healing potions, a healing salve, bandages, gloves, and a sports helmet.
The gloves and helmet were finally his own. They had gone out to buy them yesterday, since they couldn’t borrow from his old school forever … and Micah kept the helmet in his backpack because he’d been worried about looking stupid.
He saw other people wear similar sports helmets, though, and they didn’t look stupid. Neither had Ryan ever when he wore his. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad after all?
Too late now. It stayed where it was, like Sam in Lisa’s backpack. Then again, he also saw people wearing traditional helmets. There were a lot of options. Everyone seemed to have a different style. Micah wondered if the school would organize its students’ equipment when they attended.
This time, they had done a better job of organizing the crowd. They had been given directions and stood near a repurposed loot tent. On the short end stood a few tables next to the open entrance. People came in and out and worked behind the tables. On the long side of the tent, towards the Tower, was a large, wooden stage.
Micah had never seen a loot tent so close to the main pathway to the Tower before. He wondered why it was here.
This time, fewer climbers were around than during the physical aptitude test, having learned their lesson, heeded the warnings and gone to one of the other five portals. But in exchange, there were many more people around who were interested in the mysterious third entrance exam of a new school.
Micah was, too. They all were. Was he going to have fight a few monsters for a few minutes or run through the Tower for an hour and a half? For some reason, he hoped it was the latter.
“Ryan?” Lisa asked. “You know, tall-ish guy. Blond hair. Green eyes. Perpetually grumpy. Only wears undershirts and shorts? Tends to loom near people like a bodyguard? Ring any bells?”
“Ryan’s eyes are black, not green,” Micah mumbled.
“Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, grey, brown, pink, silver, gold,” Lisa mumbled. “Nope. Pretty sure black eyes do not exist.”
“Well, his are dark enough that they should. And all those other eye colors don’t exist. Pink eyes? Who’s supposed to have pink eyes?”
Lisa didn’t answer. Micah didn’t pay much attention anyway as he remembered something else. Or rather, someone else.
Speaking of dark eyes, he thought as he scanned the crowd. Where was Anne?
He saw a lot of teens around. Fewer than during the previous two exams—many had failed already—but they were all in equipment and all here at the same time, so they took up more space and left fewer gaps.
Surprisingly, though, a third of the crowd walked around in regular clothing, as if they didn’t expect to go into the Tower at all. Most of them still had backpacks, but not all of them. He’d spotted Saga in long runner’s clothes, with guards and joint pads and what looked like a stiff, black vest she’d strapped over herself instead of armor. It looked like she was expecting a Speedrun.
Where was her weapon?
“So, where is he?” Lisa asked.
“I don’t know,” Micah admitted honestly and tried not to let his uncertainty show. “He said he would catch up with me this morning, but that he still had some stuff to do so I should go ahead. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Stuff to do? Right before the exam?”
“Yeah?” Micah shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know either. It was a surprise, apparently.
They had headed for the bathhouse first on Thursday and shared the news with Prisha before going home since Ryan’s dad was working late. But his parents had been nearly ecstatic when they’d told them about how Ryan had aced both of his exams. David, in particular, had looked like the proudest dad in the city when he had given his son a crushing bearhug.
Yesterday had been normal, too. But this morning, Ryan had suddenly disappeared.
Just like Anne always seemed to do. Micah hung out at Lisa’s place every other day, shouldn’t he see her more often? He hadn’t seen her during the written exam, either, and couldn’t find her in this crowd now.
He found some of the others Anne had waved to back then. He spotted the quiet red-haired girl and followed her with his eyes for a bit, but she just went to a group of girls that Anne wasn’t a part of. He’d seen Saga earlier and even saw Noelle. She stood out because of her stomach and lack of weaponry, but she wasn’t her son—
Wait. Noelle?
She was pointing at him and waving elsewhere, calling, “Found him!”
“Why is that pregnant lady waving at you?” Lisa asked him as said lady headed through the crowd. Once the teenage applicants noticed her, they all hastily backed away to form a bubble of space. “Wait, isn’t that Ryan’s mom?”
“It is. Noelle,” Micah told her.
“Oh. But the tall man behind her … that’s not his dad, right?”
“No, that’s … Neil?”
“Who?”
“My brother-in-law.”
What was Neil doing here? And Prisha fell in line a moment later with David. Had they split up into groups to search? Was that why Ryan had disappeared this morning, to invite them here as a surprise?
“Micah!” Noelle called. “Finally, we found you! Where’s our son?”
Oh.
“He’s not with you?”
She frowned. “Is he not with you?”
“No?”
“Hello, ma’am. I’m Lisa, a friend of Ryan’s,” Lisa introduced herself again and held out her hand. “We met after the written exam last week? Though we didn’t talk much back then.”
Surprised, Noelle shook her hand just as David and Prisha walked up. “Lisa,” she said. “I remember. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Did you say Lisa?” David asked. “The Lisa? The Lisa who sends our son secret, late night messages with her summoned monsters? That Lisa?”
Suddenly, Ryan’s parents had a twinkle in their eyes and looked at Lisa like Sam looked at crystals.
“Oh, no,” Micah mumbled.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Lisa said, either oblivious to or uncaring about their insinuations. “I didn’t mean for Sam to frighten you, but I accidently gave it the wrong orders. Oh, and I’m sorry about the broken plate, and, uh, Micah having to get it out from behind the stove to get out the shards. I hope you can forgive me?”
“Plate?” Noelle asked with raised eyebrows. “Which plate? I know of no broken plate. Water under the bridge. So tell me, Lisa—pretty name, by the way—how long have you and Ryan been going, ah, ‘climbing together?’”
“Oh no, oh no …”
“All summer,” Lisa said.
“All summer!” David repeated.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no …”
“What are you mumbling about?” Prisha asked and strong-armed Micah into a half-hug. Neil gave him a smile in greeting from where he stood behind her. “Shouldn’t you be surprised to see us? And thankful! We came all the way to the cursed lands to see you, little brother.”
“Cursed lands?”
“The lands before the cursed Tower, of course,” she joked, waving at it.
Micah smiled a little—since the joke was on Westhill—but Prisha didn’t turn back and instead craned her head up to stare at the silvery-white structure. She looked lost. “Huh. It really is tall, isn’t it?”
Micah followed her gaze up, up, up …
“Yeah …”
Nobody knew where the Towers ended. Apparently, the Towers “bent” light, Lisa had told him during a study session once, though Micah wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that. How could you “bend” light?
But he had seen a painting once, in the Bazaar, that had apparently been painted from a specific spot on a hill a few miles out. If you looked at the Tower from there in just the right way, it fractured like the crown of a tree, like you were looking through cracked glass. Micah would love to see that someday.
“But why are you here?” he switched topics. He addressed Ryan’s parents, too. “All of you? I thought you had to work? And where’s Ryan?”
“We thought he was with you,” David said and looked around for a bit. “He must be somewhere else in this crowd. We came here as a surprise, though, so … surprise!” He smiled a little.
“... Surprise,” Neil echoed him. He seemed pretty out of place, towering over the crowd. Some people were glancing at him. This was probably the first time he was beyond the Tower’s wall, too.
“We missed sending you off for the first two exams, after all,” Noelle said, “and you two barely stuck around after the third. Though I think I know why, now”—she glanced at Lisa—”and it’s not every day your son—”
“Or brother,” Prisha added.
“—goes to school, so we thought we should be there to send you off for the third exam.”
“We just wanted to wish you luck,” Prisha said.
Micah hugged her. Briefly. And then he stepped back and glanced around to make sure nobody had seen. Especially not Anne.
“So, we would send our son off, if we knew where he was …” David said and frowned a little.
They all looked around themselves, but they couldn’t spot him in the crowd. They were all about to suggest looking for him when suddenly, a loud voice echoed over the entire plaza.
“Attention, please!”
An elderly woman in an office blouse and skirt stood on a small podium in front of the loot tent and held what looked like a metal cone in front of her. When she spoke into it, her voice was amplified and strangely distorted.
“Attention, please. The third entrance exam will begin its introduction in twenty minutes. I repeat, the entrance exam will begin its introduction in twenty minutes. May all non-applicants please vacate the premises swiftly to make room for the exam. All applicants are to gather in front of the podium on the south-side of this ghastly tent behind me.”
She muttered something, but because of the item in her hands they all heard it, “Couldn’t find a cheaper one to rent, could you?” Once she realized she’d spoke that into her object, she moved it away and there was a loud crackle that made people wince and cover their ears.
“What is that?” David asked.
“It sounds like a broken voice amplifier,” Noelle said.
Lisa was stifling a laugh. “It’s not magic. It’s a microphone. Where did she get it from?”
“Well, you heard the lady,” Neil said. “We gotta—”
“I repeat! May all non-applicants please vacate the premises as swiftly as possible. The applicants are to gather in front of the large podium. It’s hard to miss. Just around the corner there. Come along. Hurry up. As soon as everyone is here, we can get started. I love this thing …”
There was another crackle and a man helped her down the podium. When he tried to take the cone from her, she wrenched it away and scurried off. The crowd blocked her from sight.
Micah glanced at Prisha, lungs suddenly full with excitement instead of just the air he needed to breathe. It was starting.
“Good luck,” she told him.
“Break a leg,” Neil added and Prisha swatted him. Hard.
“Thank you,” Micah said and glanced around. Still, no Ryan. “If you see Ryan on your way back, tell him to sprint, please?”
“Will do,” David offered. “And Lisa! My son leaves his window unlocked most of the time!”
“Uhm, okay, sir?”
The crowd practically separated them on its own and they followed its shifting currents to the other side of the tent where the stage had been set up. Two rows of chairs stood on either side of a small podium at its front and center.
Ameryth stood there in a red suit, but she wasn’t looking at them. It was the first time Micah had actually seen her wear something red. She had her head turned back and was arguing with man holding a clipboard. More delays?
Micah couldn’t hear the words over the distance and the crowd. He was honestly too busy searching for Ryan to care. Where was he?
“AH! AH! Test! Test!” Ameryth’s voice came.
His eyes shot back to the stage.
She was holding the metal cone, now. The old woman stood next to her, looking grumpy.
“If you would look to your feet, there are markings on the ground,” she spoke. Her voice was easier to understand than the other woman’s had been. “If everyone could just find one marking to stand behind, that would be ideal. There are many more than there are applicants. Just find a line, stand behind it, plant yourself, throw some roots, thank you very much.”
Micah saw the stripes of color on the ground everyone was trampling past. Some people would try to stand behind one, but get swept away by the crowd. She expected them to file perfectly in line in twenty minutes? Impossible.
But the marking were pretty spaced out. Once they were standing behind them, maybe Micah would have an easier time looking through the crowd? He looked ahead to see where everyone was going.
Lisa seemed to have the same thought because she said, “This way” and forged a way through the crowd.
The markings were shaped like two large squares in front of the podium. If they wanted this to hurry along, the first people at the edge of the right square had to fall in line so the others could follow. So they just made themselves be the first people to get there.
There was just a small problem. Micah found his place at the edge of the right square, as did many others, but there were still people standing beyond those markings who hadn’t found a place yet and seemed daunted by the task of pushing back into the crowd. Ups?
“I got this,” Lisa said and grabbed a guy by the arm. She wrenched the poor fool into the crowd and behind a marking a few ones over, pushing people away on the way. “Stay,” she told him.
Then she looked for her next victim.
Micah realized what she was doing. She was directing the crowd. He had to help. When others came, Micah pointed at the markings next to him to make people stop and get in place.
The next two to arrive he recognized … and they were meandering.
“Shala!” he called. “Get in line!”
The boy spun around, looking bewildered and pointed a finger at himself. “Who? Me?”
“Marking! There! I don’t want to be here all day.”
The older guy next to him looked both amused and bemused when his friend did as Micah said and fell in line next to him. A moment later, those two starting directing people as well. Soon enough, there were too many around for Micah to do anything, so he just stood there and watched while the chain reaction carried on.
Someone stole Lisa’s place when Micah wasn’t looking, because she was still directing people, and the stranger scowled at Micah when he told him that the place was taken.
“Where else am I supposed to go?”
Thankfully, Lisa saw it herself and found a place two lines over from where Micah stood. She shot the guy who had stolen her spot a death glare and his scowl quickly vanished.
Slowly … very slowly … everyone found a place.
“Twenty-seven minutes … “ Ameryth sighed with a much clearer voice. “I’ll take it. Good job everyone. Navid, I see you just can’t help yourself from bossing people around, can you?”
She glared at the boy standing next to Shala.
He raised his hands innocently and pointed back in Lisa’s direction.
Ameryth squinted in their general direction, though he didn’t know why. She probably saw each and everyone of the applicants here and knew who they were. She’d picked him out of the crowd back then, after all.
“Trying to shift blame, is that it? Typical.”
Rather than mad, Navid looked embarrassed. She spoke as if she knew him.
Ameryth shifted her hands on the podium and only then did Micah notice, the metal cone was gone. She was speaking normally, but her voice still carried over what was almost two-thousand people standing perfectly spaced out in front of her.
That meant almost two-thousand people were now all staring in the direction of Lisa and Shala’s friend, Navid.
Micah was just happy that they weren’t staring at him. When he imagined himself in front of this crowd, he broke into a cold sweat and his legs started trembling. He already felt like he should be running away even though nobody was looking at him. There were all looking at …
At …
Micah frowned. If they were all looking their way, then Ryan had to have seen Lisa, too, right? If he was close enough? And Micah was just two people off from her. He scanned the crowd again and spotted an idiot two-thirds through who was massively late waving with both arms in their direction.
Micah broke into a grin and waved back … a teensy tiny bit, so nobody would notice he was doing it. Thankfully, the other guy stopped drawing attention to himself so Micah could breathe.
He was here. He’d made it in time. He hadn’t bailed on going to this school. Of course not. Thankfully. And he was wearing … what was he wearing? Micah saw dark green backpack straps striping the chest of a new shirt and a staff in his hand with an equally green leather pouch drawn tight over its tip.
A spear? Not a sword? But he still had a shield, at least.
New equipment. That was why he’d left. That was the failed surprise. Oh. Micah felt a little sorry that he didn’t get to show off and resolved to act appropriately surprised later. New gear was exciting.
Still, why a spear?
Belatedly, he realized Ameryth had been talking for some time now. But Micah still couldn’t quite focus on her words. He scanned the crowd a few more times and even bent forward a little until he spotted Anne, standing near the front and center, paying perfect attention to the speech.
His smiled immediately widened a little when he saw her like that. Of course, she was paying attention. She wore what looked a lot like a tight, black snowsuit and had sword and shield with her.
What kind of armor was that?
After a moment, Micah reluctantly glanced up at the podium.
“... and finally, on my right, I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. Walker, who will be assisting us at our school as the representative of the Registry Department and will oversee their interests.”
The crowd clapped. Micah blinked and quickly joined in.
On the chairs of the stage sat roughly a dozen people who Ameryth had just introduced one after another, though Micah had missed most of them. The last man was the person who had given them instructions during the test. Walker. So that was what his name was.
Were those other people the teachers and staff of the school? Even if all of them taught, twelve was far too few to educate an entire school. Maybe they were just representatives?
Micah suddenly wished he had paid a little more attention. But then again, he could just learn their names later. And her next words confirmed that he hadn’t missed anything important yet.
“Now. Onto the real reason why we have all gathered here,” Ameryth said. “I congratulate you all on having made it this far. Your results in the physical aptitude test and written exam are what brought you here and you should feel proud of that. But as you can see from the people standing next to you, two tests are not enough to sift through you all. And so, you will have a last chance to prove yourself today, to distinguish yourselves from your peers.
Today, we send you into the Tower not to fight monsters under our supervision and judgment. We send you alone. Not to race to the end of what is considered safe, either. Those of you who guessed that, and by the looks of your preparations, I can see that there are many of you, are sadly mistaken. Few, undoubtedly, know the truth, thanks to their family members, friends, or their parents’ money exchanging into hands of those who do”—Ameryth glared in their direction again and Navid’s shoulders twitched a little in a barely visible shrug—”What we will have you do today is simple: You will head into the Tower and return with proof of your worth to the Climber’s Guild.
You will be given five hours to head into the Tower. Inside, you may do as you wish in pursuit of that goal. But when you return from the Tower, you will head to this tent here where teams of three judges will be waiting for you to present your case. These teams will be made up by teachers, staff members, active Guild-employed climbers, members of the Registry, and other honored guests.”
She gestured at the people and tent behind herself as she spoke.
The crowd shifted at that revelation and everyone immediately thought of what they would bring back. Treasure, surely? That was what the Guild wished for? But Ameryth hadn’t explicitly stated that that was what they needed to bring. Was treasure really all a climber had to offer?
“For those of you who scored well during the first two tests of this examination, even just crystals appropriate to five hours spent inside the Tower will be more than enough to prove your worth. For those of you who are … lacking, or who wish to excel beyond expectations, which, I may remind you, should be all of you, you must bring us something … different. Be creative in what you present us.
Whatever it is, you must be able to defend your decision in a short essay you will write afterward, along with a brief report of whatever events transpired inside the Tower. That is your exam.
In a moment, Mr. Walker will explain the details to you. But until then, hopeful students, I leave you with this: Impress us.”
She nodded and stepped back to greet Mr. Walker as he walked up to the podium. A man at the base of it quickly stepped up the stairs and placed a hand on Mr. Walker’s arm. After a moment, a sheen passed over him and they exchanged a few words and bowed their heads in mutual thanks.
The crowd belatedly remembered to clap. Both for Ameryth’s speech and the new speaker. Impress us, echoed through Micah’s mind. The question was: How? As he looked at those one to two thousand other applicants clapping, all he saw, suddenly, was competition. How the hell was he supposed to distinguish himself from two-thousand other people?
Their maybe-future-principal sat down in an empty chair separate from the two rows. The [Mage] who had enchanted Mr. Walker with a louder voice rushed back off the stage and the man spoke.
“Thank you, Ms. Denner, for your words of encouragement.” Mr. Walker’s voice was still as authoritative as it had been during the written exam, but now, thanks to the enchantment on him, it quieted the entire crowd of panicking applicants and made them listen.
“Now, there are a few key details you must know before we can begin this exam. There are men and women currently passing through the crowd, handing out numbered chits. As a firm believer in first come, first serve, those of you who first found their places in this mess of a crowd will be the first to head into the Tower. That means the outer row to my far left.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Micah’s eyes widened. His row. He saw a woman walking down it with a box in hand, row upon rows of chits inside. As Mr. Walker spoke on, Micah accepted his with a mumbled thanks.
1.22, it read.
“However, since we cannot have one long line headed into the Tower, we will instead admit five groups at a time. At the head of each line will be a trained escort waiting for you to announce your destination. They will note it and enchant you with [Wayfarer’s Blessing] to ensure your arrival. If you have never been to that place before, we cannot ensure that you will arrive at your chosen destination and neither will we take responsibility for wherever you end up. Please, adjust your plans accordingly.
Also, if you know for sure that you can reach your destination without the help of an escort, please do so. Do not tax them anymore than they need be. They do not have an unlimited mana supply and this experience, while rewarding, will undoubtedly be hard on them. On behalf of the mages who volunteered and have joined us today, I thank you for your consideration.
Now, onto the rules. First of all: You may not trade chits.”
Half of the crowd scowled.
“Now, these chits aren’t magical in any sense, so we will hardly be able to prove whether or not you did trade chits. But if you do and it is discovered, it will reflect poorly on you and your score.”
It almost sounded like he was inviting them to circumvent that “rule.” And by the looks other applicants were passing through the crowd, they were considering it. In the far distance, Ryan looked … grumpy, like always. He wasn’t one of the ones considering cheating, then.
Goody-two-shoes, Micah mused.
“Secondly, once you leave the Tower, you will not be allowed to go back inside. However, please refrain from returning before an hour has passed. It might cause complications with the others heading in, depending on how quickly the lines move.
And thirdly, anything you bring us, we will keep. This is a test to prove your worth to the Guild. You must be able to make sacrifices. Of course, you can keep what you want, but it will not be counted towards your grade.
As to limits, you may not step foot into any of the officially designated fourth floors, as declared by the Climber’s Guild. Extensions of third floors do not fall under this purview. You will be able to find more detailed lists near the tent in a moment.
You absolutely may not hinder other applicants you encounter inside the Tower. Nor other climbers. Harming or stealing from another person will result in immediate disqualification and follow-up legal actions. There have been incidents in past entrance exams. There will be no such incidents at this school. Is that clear?”
He paused and the crowd looked confused. Was he expecting them all to answer?
“I said, Is that clear?”
“Yes,” the crowd boomed in a cacophony of mismatched answered.
“Yes?”
“Yes, sir,” half of the crowd followed up, Micah among them.
“Good,” Mr. Walker said, apparently satisfied by their sloppy response. “Otherwise, any noteworthy events, such as interactions with other people inside the Tower, must be detailed in your report. You are allowed to work with one another if you are able to meet up inside the Tower. You are allowed to accept help from strangers. Especially rescue. And while this will not be cause for disqualification, it will reflect on your grade. It won’t necessarily reflect poorly.”
He trailed off a for a bit as he seemed to think his own words over.
“I believe that covers most of the rules?” He looked back.
Ameryth looked up from where she had been watching the crowd. The elderly lady with the microphone gave him a thumbs-up, as well as two other people sitting on the chairs. Some gave curt nods instead.
“Now, onto the process and grading process: You will be given a middle-grade healing potion, a loud whistle, and wristband that glows roughly for four and a half hours before entering the Tower. The purpose of these items is, I hope, clear. If you are wounded, heal yourselves. If you are in trouble, whistle. If the wristband stops glowing, head for the nearest exit at your earliest convenience. And on that note, aside from a healthy amount of [Mages], I know there are a small number of [Alchemists] among the applicants. Forty or so, I believe?”
Forty? Micah thought. He wasn’t the only one?
“To you I say: Tampering with the wristband to create an excuse to extend your time would be a futile attempt at subterfuge. The rule is that you have to be back in five hours, not when the wristband stops glowing. It merely serves as a tool to remind you of this. It is not the clock that is keeping track. We are keeping track.
Delays will reflect poorly on your scoring. Being early will only impress us if it is in conjunction with something else that is impressive. Otherwise, it will only count as you having slacked off on your jobs.
Along with the three items we will give you, any items you bring into the Tower will be noted beforehand and reflect on your grade. If you go into the Tower with your family’s heirloom relic and kill a Treant, we will not be impressed. If you do the same with a kitchen knife … we would think you reckless and stupid and have achieved that feat based on sheer luck alone.
You will be given the opportunity to lease standard equipment inside the tent before the exam begins. Swords, shields, spears, helmets, gloves, boots, ropes … we have most things in troves.
Any wounds received inside the Tower, any consumables used, the state of your equipment, the extent of your preparation, the quality of your presentation, the quality of your arguments, and your conduct at all times; these will all reflect on your grade. That should be clear to all of you.
Now, for those of your who want to visit the loot tent for equipment, please form orderly lines before its entrances. For those of you who have come overprepared, you will also have the option to leave your equipment with us. Keep in mind that preparedness might not be a quality we disapprove of.
Please, do not go all at once. There is only enough space for … about half of you inside the tent. The test will begin in”—he checked his watch—”forty-four minutes at twelve-thirty sharp. Ms. Denner, do you have something to say?”
She seemed to consider and then shrugged. In a much quieter voice, she cupped her hands in front of her mouth and called, “Good luck.”
Mr. Walker smiled. “Good luck indeed. When it is time for the exam to begin, groups one to five will be called upon. If you are not present and in line when it is time for you to head into the Tower, you will be disqualified. Until then, have fun preparing. You are dismissed.”
There was a moment’s pause until his words sunk in. Then all hell broke loose as the crowd surge. Mr. Walker’s audible sigh drifted over the chaos.
The crowd pushed like a wave towards the largest and nearest entrance of the loot tent. Here and there, people tried to press against it, but their attempts were in vain. Micah only had a second to make a decision before it reached him and … he went with it, letting himself get swept along.
Lisa did, too.
He wanted to meet up with Ryan and her to make a game plan, but he couldn’t help but ask himself, Why?
Micah wasn’t going to work with either of them during this test. Its message was clear: Prove yourself. Impress us. Be creative.
Micah couldn’t do that in a group, relying on Lisa and Ryan. He had to do it on his own. Although … he wasn’t quite sure how yet. What was he supposed to do? How could he possibly distinguish himself in this mess? What could only Micah offer that nobody else could?
A small part of him whispered, Nothing. He stomped on that part like a cockroach for now. Doubt wouldn’t help him. He needed to come up with a solution. And as far as things only Micah could offer went, he had two options: His alchemy and his knowledge of the Salamanders Den.
However, there were apparently forty other [Alchemists] applying for this school. Micah wasn’t as alone in his concept of getting ingredients himself and making [Alchemist] into a combat Class. Why would he be? It was a simple concept. He should have expected that.
And anything they could make might be better than what he could make. Micah couldn’t risk that.
“Apples!” Lisa called. “Where are you headed? Do you need something from the tent?”
“Yeah!” Micah called back and made a split-second decision. “A shield? And you?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I have everything I need.”
He nodded. “Go find Ryan?”
She gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared into the crowd. Not even a second later, he had lost her.
Micah devoted his attention to the loot tent. Only now it wasn’t a loot tent at all. Behind the tables stood crates full of basic equipment that any school might offer its students.
Behind another long counter that took up a third of the space were lockers. For people who wanted to leave something here? Did Micah want to leave something here? he thought about it in the time he had to walk to the first junction.
Bringing more items along might mean that they expect more of him, but aside from his equipment, the only things he had of worth were his potions and his glue-balls. Those he had made himself. On their own, they should be a point in his favor. He had made them himself after all and they proved how prepared he was.
That settled the decision for him and Micah headed for the table that had a bunch of different shields behind it. Of the four people waiting there, a young man walked up to him and asked, “What do you need?”
“A shield,” Micah said. “Something I can run with. Doesn’t matter how. Buckler, or being able to strap it onto my back, or put it in my backpack; it doesn’t matter. It should also be sturdy enough to bash with and … to block a fireball.”
The guy frowned. “Nothing here can block a fireball. Nothing below the fourth floor can throw a fireball unless you go ten miles in.”
That brought Micah a little off his game. “Uhm, a [Firebolt] then?” He scowled. “It doesn’t matter. It just needs to be fireproof, okay?”
Most of the shields behind the counter were basic wooden ones.
The guy nodded and brought out a wooden, treated shield for him that had two straps he could fit onto his entire arm. “You can pull both straps tight so it won’t move at all on your arm when you run.”
They checked and made sure the proportions fit. And they did fit, perfectly.
“Thank you!” Micah said and noticed the line forming behind him. “Where do I sign?”
“Here.”
Micah put his chit and shield down and signed in a registry.
“You’re part of the first group, I see,” the guy said. “You’ll probably want to head to inspections right away, after this. Don’t overestimate how long you have to prepare.”
“The inspections are…?”
“The long row of tables outside of the tent, towards the Tower.”
“Thanks! Again.”
“No problem. Next, please!”
Micah pocketed his chit and headed off with his new shield. More and more bodies had pressed into the tent by now so that its aisles were crowded. Some had tried to come in though another opening, but organizers were herded them back out. It was apparently supposed to be the exit.
Micah pushed through the crowd towards it and stopped outside to find one of the sheets Mr. Walker had mentioned. Extensions of third floors did not count in the rule banning fourth floors. That meant the Wolves’ Den was okay.
He sighed in relief. Great. Micah didn’t know what he would have done otherwise. Head to the Dripping Teeth and look from there?
He looked around now, searching for Lisa and Ryan near the exit, but the crowd was blocking his sight. And it continued to do so as he shuffled his way out of it and towards the inspection desks a little ways out.
The moment he stepped into one of the lines, a bunch of people already joined behind him. Other lines were forming next to him, too. There was no way he could go look for the two. Would he even see them before the test began? Hopefully, they would come find him instead.
By the time he reached the table ten minutes later, someone was going through the crowd calling, “Groups one to five first! You there! You’re group twenty. What the hell are you doing here? Back of the line!”
Micah sighed a little in relief when he realized something. Even if he had wanted to work with Ryan, he couldn’t. Ryan had been two-thirds through the crowd. What group was he? Twenty? Thirty? Forty? Whatever it was, there was no way Micah could wait that long for him to get into the Tower after him. That was good. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
At the table, a woman asked him his name and participant number.
“No, participant number, not chit number.”
“Oh, uh, #2425?”
She nodded and started filling out a structured sheet with his information. Then she searched through his belongings, taking all of his items out of the backpack and onto the table one by one and making notes on the sheet.
She asked him to twirl around a little, show his knife and what he had on his belt and made notes for those, too. She even appraised his potions and salves with a spell, but didn’t tell him what she had found. By the time she was through with the three, she frowned and said, “Where did you buy these alchemicals? They do not have any marking and their values are slightly off from most norms.”
“I, uhm, made them myself?”
“Ah, an [Alchemist]. You should have said so from the start.”
And how was he supposed to know that?
She wrote down a few comments in the margins and told him he could pack everything up again.
While he did, Micah tried to sneak a glimpse at her writings. It was hard to read upside-down, but he saw a comment criticizing the quality of his middle-grade healing potion and one, at the very bottom, complimenting him on his overall preparedness and its simplicity.
Micah wasn’t quite sure if he should take that as the compliment it was apparently meant to be.
She smiled at the end of it and told him, “You seem very well prepared. Just buy middle-grade healing potions next time and maybe get yourself a sword or something, okay? Sign here to verify that this is the extent of your preparations and that you will not add anything afterwards. If you do, tell us in your report when you get back from the Tower. The people checking those reports can sense most discrepancies.”
Micah barely caught what she said beyond her second comment anyway. As he scrawled down his name in slightly cursive writing, a child’s version of a signature, his mind was racing to think over what he had brought along. He hadn’t forgotten anything, right? If he had had, he had to realize it now. But he shouldn’t have. He was even wearing fresh underwear and socks.
Okay. Everything was ok—
“Next!” the woman bellowed.
Micah clutched his backpack, fumbled with his newly acquired shield, and wandered off between the lines at the tables.
How much time did he still have before the test would begin? He asked a passing adult that question and they pointed back at a clock that was hanging on the loot tent. Oh. Right.
Eighteen minutes.
Micah quickened his pace around the clustered crowd that still hung out in front of the stage and looked for Lisa and Ryan, just to wish them good luck before the test began and maybe ask for them for input, or tips, or what they had planned.
He walked all the way back to the other side of the tent, where the tables were, where Lisa and he had stood earlier, but he didn’t find them anywhere. Maybe they were in the loot tent?
By the time he wanted to duck inside, a distorted old voice made an announcement again.
“The exam will begin in ten minutes! May the first five groups please head to the exam area in front of the Tower. Left side! Left! Do not cross the boundary and interrupt the climbers headed into the portal. I repeat, groups one to five are to head to the exam area in front of the Tower. Do not bother the poor climbers headed in! They are traumatized by your presence enough.”
Reluctantly, Micah did as he was told and joined a clustered group there. Lisa should be around here somewhere, too, though, right? She was in group four. He searched the two-hundred odd people for her, but he was having just as much luck as he did before. So instead, he wandered around idly and thought about his plan.
“Wolves Den to Salamanders Den to bringing back unique treasure that nobody else could,” that was about the extent of it. Maybe he would find a treasure chest or some fully-formed Teacup Salamanders?
There was something else he wanted to do, but it seemed almost like a childish fancy to Micah. There was no way it would work, right? But another part of him couldn’t help but think back to a map they had made on Tuesday. Something about that map seemed … off to him.
Micah was torn on whether or not he should give it a shot. Did he really have the luxury to make a blind guess? Shouldn’t he collect as many fire crystals as he could instead? He didn’t know. Maybe somebody else could have told him.
The organizers found him before he found Lisa, calling them to line up and have their chits ready. To the left side, facing them, was another solitary table where people managed documents.
Micah spotted the equipment assessment papers that other woman had just made being sorted into folders with their names on them.
A man checked in with the people there, got a nod and turned to the rough lines forming up. “The test will begin in five minutes. Until then, don’t go anywhere. We’re going to do a count to see if everyone is here.”
Just then, someone grabbed his arm and spun Micah around to point at the very back of the lines.
Ryan stood there, waving and calling something that might have been, “Good luck” over the sound of the crowds.
“Found you,” Lisa said.
A girl standing in line next to her called back to Ryan as if he had been speaking to her, “Thank you!”
Micah and Lisa both frowned at her and glanced back at Ryan. He was calling something else, but the crowd was getting noisier around them, he couldn’t hear the exact words.
Micah was too busy staring at his new equipment anyway.
He had what looked like the gnarled wooden shield on his arm, but different now. A solid ring had been added around it and it didn’t look so gnarled anymore. The wood was almost organized into a spiralling pattern growing out from the center. Some of them were a little more prominent. Or had their edges been painted? They reminded Micah of a tree’s crown.
Micah pointed at it until Ryan noticed. He raised it a little, confusion clear on his face. Then Micah did a “spin around” motion with his hand.
Ryan frowned at him.
Micah repeated the “spin around” motion and Ryan—reluctantly—stomped around a slow circle. He had a new backpack, too, it seemed. It was larger, green, and had tons of straps.
The sack on top of his spear to cover its point was also dark green. It seemed to be a unified theme among his new equipment. Dark brown and green colors to match his new shield and the wood of his spear, the tip of which Micah hadn’t seen yet. Was it even a spear or something else?
When Ryan finished his slow turn—with a scowl, then—Micah grinned and called back, voice dripping with sarcasm, “It matches your eyes!”
Surprisingly, the other guy’s expression seemed to brighten and he called something that might have been, “Thanks!”
Uhm. Micah frowned. He felt like something had been lost in translation.
Ryan yelled something else then, but the organizer was louder.
“Quiet, please! You, there!” He pointed at Lisa. “Are you a part of this group? No? Group four? Then what are you doing here? Get back in line.”
Lisa glared at him and pushed her way through two lines over to her group.
“The first five groups are about to begin. Is everyone here? Great. Are there no objections?”
Nobody answered.
“Great. Then head for the portal and the people you see there. Do not go in yet.”
He pointed ahead and Micah turned back to wave one last time before he followed his line.
This is it, he thought in pure excitement.
Ten minutes later, he added a question mark to that statement. This was it, right?
He was still standing in line and it had barely moved. Micah was number twenty-two. Every time someone approached the group of people in front of the portal, they got a lengthy explanation before they were allowed to step in. If things went on like this, it would be evening before the test ended for everyone. Thankfully, the explanation they got seemed to be getting shorter and shorter.
Couldn’t they explain whatever it was to everyone beforehand? It wasn’t like Micah had anything better to do. Lisa’s line was moving quicker than his and there were two lines between them, so he couldn’t really make Smalltalk with her.
Others could, though. A guy and a girl were debating sitting down in the Fields and writing an essay for the five hours, since Ameryth hadn’t specified that they actually had to bring anything back from the Tower. It seemed clever, in a weird way, but Micah still didn’t entirely approve of it.
Two guys behind him who must have known one another were talking to each other about what they were going to bring back, too, one excited, the other sounding kind of grumpy.
“120 years ago,” he spoke, “the Shepherd collected us, a nation of refugees and lost souls with the clothes on our bodies, from over three broken worlds and sixteen continents, and delivered us to this land where five divine structures stand, impervious, ageless, infinite, that we might explore them in His stead.”
He said it so reverently, Micah felt a little awkward where he stood with only one person between them. Thankfully, he was looking ahead so the other boy couldn’t see him. He just felt awkward when confronted with other people’s beliefs, like most people were. The last time he’d been close to anyone religious had been his Nana, and she’d prayed to a Lord whose name people weren’t allowed to speak and to the spirits who worked in His cause.
Micah guessed, if you had to worship something, spirits weren’t so bad. You could see those, at least, and they could do cool stuff like make statues move like living beings and cast spells.
The boy’s tone shifted from reverent to grouchy, “And now what are we doing with it? We rely on its shallowest ends to feed the city and send children in with five hours time to participate in a school exam. It’s a sham.”
Micah’s frown eased up a little. Something about the words rang true to him. The age of [Adventurers] was over. People had settled into a rhythm with the Towers, as far as he could tell. They went in, got what they needed, and went back out again. From what he’d gathered through conversations with Lisa and David, expeditions were at an all-time low nowadays.
That seemed kind of … sad. Weren’t people trying to explore them anymore? Discover their secrets?
Instead, they got fruits, and coffee beans, and wheat from the Gardens, and street lamps, and watches, and trains from Lighthouse, the city with the least amount of climbers, and they just built their city outwards instead of in.
Well, until now. The Towers were changing. And Micah hoped a school being built into their walls was a sign that they were willing to change with them. At least, those who attended those schools.
Him.
“I asked you what you were going to bring back,” the other guy said. “Not for your life story, Jason.”
“I’m just saying, what I want to bring back isn’t something that I can bring back.”
“And what’s that?”
Truth, Micah thought.
“Truth,” the religious boy said.
Screw collecting fire crystals for five hours, Micah decided. He was going to try it. All or … well. Not nothing. Hopefully, bringing back something from the allegedly lost Salamander’s Den would be enough in case things went wrong. But Micah knew what he wanted to do. What he wanted to attempt.
In the distance, he spotted Lisa smile back at him before she stepped into the portal and disappeared. He returned the smile, though he didn’t know if she saw it, and followed his own line a step forward.
“Well, I’m going to kill a Treant. You can wander around and look for your ‘truth’. It’ll probably come in the form of a drawing of a sheep in some treasure chest or something, won’t it?"
“That’s … not a bad idea. A drawing from the Shepherd—”
“Sorry,” Micah said as he turned around and stretched his hand out for the religious boy. It was almost his turn, but he couldn’t help himself. “Jason, right? I couldn’t help but overhear,” he stole that line from Saga. “I’m Micah.”
“Hello, Micah?” Jason said, quirking a single eyebrow.
He had dark brown hair and was tall and slim. Of course, everyone looked tall from Micah’s point of view. The guy next to him was a shade lighter, a fingerbreadth shorter, and stood much more casually with wider shoulders.
“Alex,” he introduced himself.
Micah shook his hand as well and promptly wasn’t quite sure how to say what he wanted to say. Thank you for making up my mind on stupid decision? No, that wouldn’t work.
He glanced back—there was only one person between him and the portal—and just forced it out with a smile, “I just wanted to say that I’ll try to bring back what you say you can’t.”
Jason looked a little annoyed, but seemed to be humoring him. “And what would that be?”
“Number 1.12!” the man called.
“Uhm, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get it,” Micah corrected himself. “If I find it, I’ll gladly tell you afterward."
“And if you don’t?” Alex asked him, smiling a little.
Micah shrugged. “Then I’ll be embarrassed.”
“Number 1.12!” the man called again.
“Sorry, I have to go.”
“Remember that, though!” Jason called after him. “Truth or embarrassment!” He was smiling. Micah didn’t know if it was a good smile or not. If things went wrong, it might as well be a mocking one.
“Here, take these,” a woman said as Micah stepped up. She held out a whistle and a small metal flask. Micah pocketed both of them and signed on a clipboard when she told him to.
“Hold your arm out?”
She slipped a wristband a lot like Ryan’s onto it, dripped a brush in a bottle, and dabbed it once. A shine spread out from the point where the brush had touched the material and in a second, the entire wristband was glowing white.
“It will shift between glowing white, yellow, orange, and red; each for a little over an hour. That should give you an overview of your time. When it stops glowing, you’ll have about twenty minutes left to make it out of the Tower.”
Micah glanced at the wristband, but had to tuck away his fascination with its alchemical pattern for later. He thanked the woman for the information and headed onto the next man.
“Destination?”
“Fourth Floor Wolves Den.”
He frowned. “Madin?”
Micah frowned back at him. “Huh? Stranya.”
“Stranya? Nevermind. Just a second—”
“Oh, no,” Micah said. “I don’t need your spell. Can I go?”
“By all means.” He waved towards the portal. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
Micah walked up, took a step forward and thought of [Savagery]. When his foot touched the ground, it pressed into soft dirt. He breathed in cool, misty air, took a moment to orient himself, and fastened his helmet onto his head.
Then he broke into a sprint.
Micah ran through a mist-covered forest. He ran past trees and through underbrush without flinching, howls hounding him in the distance. He counted trees in passing and threw himself up the next trunk with a jump, climbing up to its bottom branches in seconds.
He had to throw his left arm wider because of the shield, but after the first time, he’d already gotten used to it. At the top, he held on with his legs and shot a few stones into the mist. A minute later, he scaled around, down, and threw himself off again, hitting the ground running.
He avoided the wolves as best he could, but still collected two mist crystals by the time he ran down the wooden stairs in the darkness, the way ahead only lit by a small circle of light. He took a minute to breath and drink some water. Then he was running through red, stone tunnels.
In no time at all, he had collected a tiny horde of hissing Salamanders after him. Every now and then, Micah would trim that horde by a few, collect their crystals, then run on again. There were few Salamanders around, but he would rather be safe than sorry. Plus, there was no way Micah was going to let himself be driven into a corner again. Not by anyone.
But he did run with them behind him. He only had five hours to find what he was looking for. His plan was simple.
Back when Micah had come into the Salamander’s Den, he had been given three options: East, North, West. North led quickest into the Den and quickest to more dangerous opponents. He taken one left, two rights, and a left. That led him straight ahead, North after all.
Further in, he had taken another left as he fled in fear from a horde of Salamanders, easily twice or three times the size of the one following him now. He had fled North-East for a long while.
Back then, both of his legs had been asleep, he’d been carrying a fully-formed Salamander, and had only had a hunting knife—until he found a room with stairs and ducked in.
He could imagine that route now. North, North-east, and then ducking into a tiny room on the right.
But when it had all collapsed, it must have collapsed in something resembling a circle. The room with the Kobold had been the starting point. That room was a pile of rubble now.
Today, Micah had run back to the Salamanders Den, but not back that room with the Kobold. Instead, the tunnel in bent right, leading East. It basically extended the escape route he had run back then, but none of the tunnels headed further into the Salamanders. Their options had been to head back towards the starting portal or to walk parallel to it. South or East, nothing else. From the rubble, the Salamander’s Den bloomed like the corner of a room outward.
Micah didn’t want that. He didn’t want to head to the start. He wanted to run deeper in, straight ahead. North. But in order to do that, he had to run in the opposite direction first, towards the portal.
Left, he thought as he bashed a Salamander aside with his shield. Left. He was running towards the first bends, he needed to find a left. He wanted to head far to the South, far to the West, and then North again, to circle around the collapse radius.
Left.
And eventually, he found a path and almost couldn’t believe it. Back when Ryan and him had explored, they had been headed South-West. But if they had just headed straight South for a little while longer, they would have found this place.
Micah immediately took it.
He didn’t know how long he ran, but by the time he came to a skidding halt in a room with three branches, one of which was collapsed, the wristband on his arm was glowing yellow and he was heaving.
The hissing horde approached and he faced them down. Thirteen dead Salamanders later, he drank greedily from his waterskin and stumbled backwards to an intact wall without any features.
He felt its warm stone and took a deep breath.
This was exactly where Micah had first set foot into the Tower.
There had been a portal, right here where he stood. It was gone now. Not that anyone would have known it had been there in the first place. Apparently, portals could go away after all. Back then, Micah had headed East, to North, to North-east from here, ever deeper into the Den.
The tunnel leading straight ahead from this room was collapsed, too, but the one leading right, leading West…?
Micah was back where he had started and he took the right instead. He ran until he found a tunnel heading left from there, and headed straight into the depths of the Salamander’s Den.
Finally, by the time he caught a glimpse of rough, old stones, his wristband was still only glowing yellow. A horde was still after him. Micah knew he should have ducked back and killed them first, to be safe. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t help himself.
His jaw was clenched and he heaved through his nose as he strode into the room. He strode towards the stairs at its end. He strode towards the Kobold walking down its steps and punched it right in its fucking face.
The monster went down, its staff clattered on stone, and Micah almost stumbled after it. He let out a sigh of relief that he had been holding for almost four months. "Damn that felt good."
The first Salamander of the horde caught up to him and jumped up to latch onto his arm with sharp teeth. It didn’t get through his armor, but it held on by sheer determination alone. Another bit his leg. Micah just grinned and breathed. Then he wrenched the Salamander on him off and tossed it across the room. The Kobold snarled as it reached for its staff and tried to get back up. Micah stomped on its hand and kicked it in the face. The other dozen Salamanders of the horde reached him and the mayhem began.