“Where there is a will, there is a way. If there is a chance in a million that you can do something, anything, to keep what you want from ending, do it. Pry the door open or, if need be, wedge your foot in that door and keep it open.”
Pauline Kael, American Critic
“That’s enough, #0001. Send the Dragon of Endless Shadows back to its mountain lair,” Luna instructed her personal Tutoria as they watched the monitors as the dragon soar menacingly over Milly, Calista and Rain. Luna breathed a sigh of relief when the dragon finally flew over the horizon and out of sight.
Luna had limited control of the monsters that populated the God Contest World. She was able to influence their paths and activate and deactivate their consciousness routines, as one would flick on and off a lightbulb, but she had little ability to influence their actions once events were set in motion.
Her mother had deemed it too risky to give her that much control. The Nexus demanded a fair test, and such direct interference might very well result in the rejection of the entire contest – and the players and fledgling AI Director within. Luna was designed to be more subtle in her approach to guiding and challenging the players. A gentle nudge, rather than a shove.
The Dragon of Endless Shadows had been a nudge.
They needed to see what awaited them. They needed to understand vast gap that exists between who they are and who they must become.
“The girls performed well,” Tutoria observed with a touch of disappointment. “Though I wanted to see what they would’ve done if it attacked.”
“It wouldn’t have been an appropriate challenge for them at this point in the game,” Luna reminded her. “The Dragon of Endless Shadows is a Calamity Level threat. It’s not meant for the second phase.”
“Yah… I guess,” pouted Tutoria impatiently.
Luna studied her Tutoria. Although the Tutoria program was a part of her – though she had yet to find where the program was located within her code – there was something about her assistants that Luna found disconcerting. They followed direction, though there was a passive rebelliousness in their nature that concerned the AI Director. Like giving her the nickname Director Cutiepie.
Sometimes, she’d catch #0001 huddled in the corner, whispering, as if speaking to another that Luna could not see.
Perhaps they have errors in their program, like I do. Another imperfect part of an imperfectly designed AI Director.
“So what’s next, Director Cutiepie?” Tutoria asked curiously.
Luna groaned.
“The players have successfully completed the first phase of the God Contest and, by doing so, they have passed the test of basic survival. In fact, Milly, Calista, Rain, and Xavier completed the first phase in record time…”
“Which put them at a disadvantage,” countered Tutoria. “They have no stable food supply. The Castle of Glass has no defenses. Their social order is in chaos, with the Freelancers and the CEOs at each other’s throats. It took months for the humans in the previous contests to finish phase one, and…”
“And they all died,” Luna finished. “They spent their time preparing, and they still died. Perhaps the players in the Thirteenth are doing what they should for humans to finally succeed – pushing past the boundaries of what is safe and embracing the danger beyond their Castle of Glass.”
Like a hive of bees, if every bee was fucking insane. Hephaestus wasn’t wrong. But perhaps it is time to embrace their insanity rather than treat it as a detriment. And if that insanity throws this invisible puppet master off-balance, then all the better.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“But there’s a reason they need to be a stable people,” said Tutoria as she watched the girls on the monitor packing up their camp. “Humans are so self-centered. They never consider there might be a purpose to this game beyond their own survival. It takes them so long to understand that they are not here as victims. They are here to be protectors.”
“They will find that out soon enough. The girls are on a direct course towards those they are fated to protect,” Luna said. “We must trust them to make the right decisions.”
“What did the Nexus call the species this time?” asked Tutoria curiously, though Luna suspected she already knew the answer.
“Fairies,” Luna answered. “Named after a creature from their mythology, though I think the Nexus may have drawn on multiple myths as inspiration when it created this next intelligent species. If the humans succeed in the God Contest, the fairies shall be the species at the centre of the next cycle.”
“And if they don’t survive?” Tutoria asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Then the thirteenth God Contest will end in failure,” answered Luna. “There can be no victory without them. This has been a foundation of the game since the beginning of time. For what is the purpose of imparting great power without someone to protect?”
“The Tribe of the Lost Foal is the nearest clan,” Tutoria informed the AI Director. “They will be the point of first player contact.”
Luna tuned her monitors to the Lost Foals. The tribe had set up camp at the bend in the river. Children slept soundly in their camps as the adults began to stir, completely unaware that their world was about to be turned upside down.
Milly. I hope you are ready for what’s to come. Protect them. Guide them, and be guided by them. Prove yourself to be the woman I believe you to be.
“You may activate the beasts, Tutoria,” Luna announced reluctantly. “Set them on a course for the Lost Foal’s camp.”
Be safe, Milly. I hope I see you again.
“The gods will be entertained by this!” exclaimed Tutoria, rubbing her hands together with excitement as she pressed a series of buttons on the control panel to grant consciousness to the beasts.
Luna didn’t spare a thought for the thousand gods watching the action of the God Contest.
For who cared about entertaining mad gods when the fate of the universe was at stake.
* * *
God Home rang empty as the Cizen, the Mayan God of Death, strode through its halls, headed for his alcove, hidden away in a long-forgotten section of their residence. The alcove contained the equipment he had designed over hundreds of years to serve as a psychic backdoor into the God Contest. A secret construct only he and one other knew about.
He did not watch the God Contest’s live broadcast. Few gods did anymore, save the High Lord himself.
After all, dead gods had no need to be entertained.
Cizen rounded a corner and saw a woman lying across the hall staring with empty eyes at nothing, her mind taken by the madness it finally ran its course. She appeared young, dressed in thick hides and white fur. Her shimmering black hair in two thick braids tumbled from beneath her hood.
“Pinga, Inuit Goddess of the Hunt,” Cizen murmured, closing her eyes with his fingers. “Well, not anymore, I suppose. May you find your rest in death.”
Though he bore this particular goddess no specific ill-will, he felt no sympathy for the woman. There were always casualties in war, and she had been part of the system that robbed him of his heart.
As Cizen’s carrion feeders began to swarm over the dead goddess, Cizen absentmindedly rolled up his sleeve and exposed the desiccated flesh beneath. He’d hoped his inoculation would have kept the madness at bay, but the first infection spot had finally appeared on the day the Thirteenth was launched.
The clock had begun to tick. He needed to implement his plan before the madness took hold. Thankfully, the first stages of the plan had gone well.
After years of searching, he’d finally found a human that was a biological and mental match for what he required. He’d altered the course of the God Contest to draw him into the game, which had the added benefit of significantly decreasing the total participants. Unfortunately, the man – Xavier Holloway – was proving to be more difficult to control than he’d hoped.
Faced with a stubborn independence carved from the deep scars of abandonment, Cizen had been forced to use unorthodox methods of manipulation. He tapped into Xavier’s hunger for power and turned it into a deep-seeded addiction that enhanced Xavier’s dependence on Cizen. Yet it also fostered a razor-thin temper and a recklessness that needed to be tempered, lest it lead the man to an early grave.
Cizen could not afford for Xavier to die prematurely. He needed the man to grow strong. Cizen needed a strong host, so he could avoid the madness and reclaim what he had lost.
In addition to Xavier, Cizen had also managed to goad the High Lord into casting Oracle into the God Contest. Cizen needed her removed from God Home. The Goddess of Foresight and Prophecy had a knack for seeing that should remain unseen. Besides, he’d made a promise to his oldest friend – a friend whom, to Cizen’s infinite regret, had not survived to see his plan come to fruition.
“If my plan works, perhaps you will see Oracle again, old friend,” Cizen murmured as he entered his alcove and quietly shut the door behind him. “Perhaps we shall all be reunited once more.”
A quiet click echoed down the empty halls of God Home, where only the dead could hear it.