image [https://s3.ca-central-1.amazonaws.com/sypathetic.com/Cam/images/chaptercovers/chaptercoverobstacle.png]

Espy was going to end the century with a bang. He was going to make 3999 the year of Espy. After months of gruelling applications, countless tests, and relentless interviews, he had finally earned an internship at the Tournament Corporation. The day he received his acceptance had been the happiest day of his life. Up to that point, everything had come so easily for Espy; Even Ersatz University had courted him with a full scholarship, but the Tournament Corporation had never been so accommodating. No, to join their ranks, Espy had fought tooth and nail, and now, his victory felt all the sweeter.

Espy was looking forward to a nice relaxing morning to properly prepare himself for his first day of work; however, Espy wasn't the only one with an exciting life shift ahead of them.

A sudden jolt interrupted his thoughts as a burst of energy slammed into his chest. "Wakey, Wakey!" His younger sister, Patsy, was bouncing on top of him with the kind of exuberance only a young teenager could muster.

Espy groaned as the air snapped from his lungs under the weight of his sister. The abused brother struggled to rise from his bed from under the pressured weight of his overly enthusiastic alarm clock. "Alright, Patsy, relax. What's got you so wound up today?"

Patsy's face split into a Cheshire grin as the moment she'd been waiting for finally arrived. "I got accepted to Ersatz University!" she announced, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I'll be starting next year!"

Espy's fatigue evaporated in an instant, replaced by a surge of energy that matched his sister's. With a joyful grin, he leaped out of bed and enveloped her in a massive hug. "Patsy, that's amazing! I told you that you'd make it."

The praise brought a blush to her cheeks, and her gaze fell down to her navel. "Well, it wasn't a scholarship like you got."

Espy gently set her down, his hands firm on her shoulders. "Nonsense! Getting into Ersatz is an achievement, scholarship or not." Patsy's excitement quickly returned, and she eagerly followed him around the house, chattering animatedly about every detail of her acceptance letter and what it would mean for her future as Espy went through his morning routine.

The two of them eventually made their way to the kitchen. While Espy prepared sandwiches, Patsy eagerly rattled off the classes she'd chosen for her first year. "Which does bring me to a favour I need from you."

Espy flashed her a teasing smile. "Of course. It always comes back to a favour. I should've known—my sister would never wake me up just to share her happiness with me."

"Hey, don't be like that!" Patsy huffed, poking him in the arm. "You owe me a favour anyway."

Espy raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Do I now?"

"Yeah," she said with a dramatic sigh. "I'm gonna be a brand-new little lost sheep at Ersatz, and you're just going to abandon me for your fancy internship!"

Patsy's hyperbole made Espy chuckle as he responded. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. I'm not quitting school; I'll still be around."

This time, it was Patsy's turn to laugh. "Come on, Espy, after twenty years of dealing with that neurotic disaster you call your brain, you should have learned by now. Once you step into the Arena of Empedocles, you won't come up for air for at least a week. Watch."

Espy finished making the sandwiches and handed one over to his sister. He paused before taking a bite. "Harsh. But fair, I guess. Alright, what's the favour?"

"Before you disappear off the face of the planet for your oh-so-wonderful job, can you give me a tour of the university?"

Fortunately for Patsy, Espy needed to go to the university anyway to handle some last-minute details before heading to his internship. While Patsy had visited the campus countless times with him over the years, this was different—she wanted a thorough, insider's tour of the places she'd need to frequent. Espy was more than happy to oblige, eager to share the little secrets he'd learned over his time at Ersatz. He pointed out the best spots for studying, the hidden food stalls with the tastiest snacks, shortcuts that saved precious minutes between classes, and other little gems that only someone who had spent years scouring the school could know.

As they walked down one of the quieter hallways in the larger buildings, Espy and Patsy crossed paths with Professor Ream. The renowned figure, as always, was surrounded by a gaggle of students and admirers, each clamouring for his attention with trivial questions and requests. The professor's expression, however, was one of clear annoyance—his patience seemed nearly spent as he fended off the constant barrage of nonsense.

But the moment his eyes landed on Espy, his mood shifted entirely. Professor Ream called out, uncaring or even purposefully interrupting one of the nobles in the midst of requesting an autograph. "Espy! If it isn't the great Tournament Corporation intern himself!" Professor Ream laughed wholeheartedly, both from his own comment and at the gazes of his lackeys, who eyed Espy with newfound interest.

"Actually, Professor," Espy said, his voice taking on a more serious note, "I do have a few questions for you that I'd prefer to ask in private."

"Of course," Professor Ream replied, turning to his crowd with an almost theatrical gesture. "Could all of you please allow my student some privacy?"

The group of followers grumbled in disappointment, but they eventually dispersed, respecting the professor's wishes—though clearly not without some reluctance.

Patsy looked over to Espy, her brow furrowing in concern. "Should I also give you two some privacy?"

Both Espy and Professor Ream burst into laughter. Espy shook his head, still chuckling. "No need, Patsy. I don't have anything private to ask him. I was just helping him get rid of his… enthusiastic fans."

Professor Ream added in. "I'm sure it is that sort of consideration that won you your internship at the Tournament Corporation, my boy."

Espy laughed. "That must be it. Speaking of which, Professor, I got into the Tournament Corporation at pretty much the best time possible. You know, with the actual Tournament commencing next year and all, but I'm guessing that means things are about to get pretty hectic for me."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Professor Ream waved off his concern with a casual flick of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Espy. I've already spoken with your professors. As of last night, you've officially graduated for the year. Just hand in your final research paper by the end of the next academic cycle, and you'll be an official grand-wizard of Ersatz University."

Espy blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"But don't I have to get all my professors to approve my research proposal first?"

Professor Ream smirked, clearly amused by the question. "I'm sure whatever you come up with will be entertaining enough to earn their approval."

Espy found his emotions whirring in a strange mixture of confusion, apprehension and excitement at this unexpected news. "Well, thank you very much, Professor."

Professor Ream smiled genially. "It's the least I can do for my little burgeoning prodigy. Just don't waste this opportunity; I expect to hear great things from you the next time we meet."

"I won't, sir..." Espy muttered, unsure how to handle such high praise from someone as esteemed as the professor. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, at a loss for how to respond.

Ream's smile softened, clearly amused by Espy's awkwardness. "Well, I think I've kept you and your sister occupied long enough. I'll let you two get back to your day." With a final nod, they waved each other off, and the siblings turned to continue their tour.

Patsy looked at her brother with renewed admiration. "Wow, you were right. Working at the Tournament Corporation really did open all kinds of doors."

Rather than reply, Espy ruffled his hand through Patsy's hair, watching with mild amusement as she squirmed away, irritated.

It was true, though, that he had been going through a few interviews at Ersatz to see if he was eligible for an early graduation, but it would never have happened without having the Tournament Corporation under his belt.

Eventually, Espy bumped into his friend Picayune and managed to pawn off the task of touring Patsy off and allow him to get to his internship. Patsy herself had no complaints of being cast away so suddenly as she had always held a fondness for Picayune and looked forward to her new guide. Picayune did not seem so similarly amused. Something that was easily ignored by Espy as he abandoned his best friend to the unrelenting ball of energy, which was his sister.

Espy didn't do this because he was in a rush or going to be late. It was simply that Espy had always been an eager person, always bounding at the opportunity for another discovery, another job. He wasn't late at all for his first day of work; in fact, he had arrived at the Arena of Empedocles three hours early, much to the annoyance of his supervisor, Mark.

It was clear that Mark considered himself far too important to deal with pesky interns—especially not one who wasn't even on shift yet. With a dismissive wave, he told Espy to walk around and familiarize himself with the building.

The Arena of Empedocles was an amazing construct, a colossal sphere only held aloft by its own vomitorium steps that circled its base. It was the second-largest building in all of Proselyte, beaten only by the unfathomably massive Ersatz University.

Inside, the arena was no less impressive. The central combat area lay within a vast hollow, surrounded by rows upon rows of seating. Between the seating and the arena floor was a narrow gap, filled by an elevated platform that circled the entire combat zone. The floor itself was a dazzling tapestry of intricate runes, which, during the Tournament, would activate in conjunction with a team of staff members standing by, ensuring that any magical or physical attacks from contestants would never endanger the audience. This would be one of Espy's tasks once the Tournament started.

In addition to the main combat area, the Arena of Empedocles was comprised of a single giant spiralling hallway that wound its way about the entire circumference of the arena, from the bottom of the building all the way to the top. The hallway naturally varied in size, growing either larger or smaller depending on its proximity to the vertical center of the sphere or its height. Thankfully, there was also a series of staff access ways that functioned as shortcuts to avoid having to spiral the entire megastructure just to reach a room directly above you.

The closer rings, nearer to the bottom of the sphere by the combat zone, housed the basic amenities for guests: wide hallways, washrooms, food stalls, and, of course, gift shops. But for Espy, the true intrigue lay in the outer rings.

It was in these outer rings that the true heart of the arena's bureaucracy lay—the back offices, the paperwork, the endless corridors of administrative tedium; all of that beautiful data that Espy would have the joy to peruse throughout the next couple of years. Supposedly, Empedocles himself was situated at the very top offices of the sphere. Espy knew he lacked both the clearance and the time to venture there—or to meet the man himself.

Three hours passed, and Espy still felt he hadn't even scratched the surface of his curiosity. But time, as it always did, marched on, and soon enough, he found himself heading back to report to Mark.

To his disappointment, the reality of being an intern was nothing like the prestigious, dream-like position he'd imagined. Instead of the exciting challenges he'd expected, he was quickly buried under a mountain of menial tasks. He spent his days shuttling files across the building, running errands for other so-called "more important" people, or—in a particularly demeaning moment—picking up lunch orders for the staff.

Unfortunately for Mark, Espy was as athletic as he was energetic. No matter how many benign tasks he threw at the boy, he could never be held down for long, his motivation and verve unflagging. Finally, Mark had enough, and so he brewed up a machiavellian strategy to hand over an impossible trial to Espy. He would give Espy a task so daunting, so endlessly tedious, that even someone as eager and relentless as him would be bogged down for ages.

Thus, Espy was assigned the legacy files in the storage room—a mountain of paperwork that had been left untouched for centuries. It was a job so monumental that it had become the stuff of legend in the arena's halls. Mark was certain that this would keep the boy occupied for far longer than he could possibly imagine.

Unbeknownst to most of the public, the Arena of Empedocles had a basement—a vast, sprawling space that was far more warehouse than crawlway. Inside, it contained a staggering archive of detailed reports chronicling every activity at every moment that took place within the arena, as well as some sporadic records imported from other arenas, stretching all the way back to the beginning of the Tournament five hundred years ago.

The basement was a living history book, its walls lined with papers documenting even the smallest events. Old relics, forgotten trophies, and discarded armour lay scattered about, evidence of long-gone fighters who had either left their gear behind—or, in some cases, never returned for them. Among the forgotten relics were ancient rune tablets; their inscriptions faded with time, still holding a trace of ultimate power or the inane ramblings of a too-bored scholar. Who was to tell until they were all deciphered? For any overzealous Tournament fan, the basement was the ultimate rabbit hole, an endless treasure trove of history waiting to be devoured.

The strategy had worked. Mark hadn't heard from Espy for months. The boy, weighed down by his monumental task, had never bothered to check in—too embarrassed, perhaps, to admit he'd been swallowed whole by the work. Mark had assumed Espy had quit in shame.

----------------------------------------

Currently, Mark was buried in paperwork in his office. He hated that his desk was low enough in the arena that, on busy days, he could hear the stomps of obnoxious tourists. At least it came with the perk of a private room. A small comfort amidst his frustrations.

As he sifted through yet another pile of reports from his superiors, a rustling sound broke through the monotony—a strange, unsettling noise that seemed to come from beneath the floorboards. At first, Mark dismissed it. Rats, no doubt, had finally made their way into the storage room below and were finally finishing off its dusty tomes.

But the sound continued. A faint scratching, almost rhythmic—too deliberate to be the random scurrying of rodents.