As the others settled onto the platform, countless questions raced through Luke’s head. He had what many would consider an unfair advantage in the competition, and he kept waiting for Hephaestus to say that he couldn’t use Maximus. Undoubtedly, the god would know that Luke could control his sword telepathically with few limits and that he could keep it flying for potentially weeks. It wouldn’t be gravity that stopped Maximus, but hunger, thirst, the need to sleep, or something equally mundane.

Or, he just doesn’t care and wants this sham of a tournament over and done with in the fastest way possible. I don’t like what that means for me, God Seed-wise, but I'll take it. I wanna go home, too.

Besides, if this goes how I want it to, it’ll be cake.

Luke planned to catch Spiros’s spear with his sword, carry it further than every other weapon, and then drop it in front of where his sword would eventually land. If he did that and got both him and Spiros eliminated, though, well, that would defeat the point. He needed to ensure Spiros won, not get both of them kicked for cheating.

Luke also had to consider that Spiros might be okay without his help. He still didn’t know what Spiros’s advanced version of the First Stances did. There never seemed to be time between hiding his identity and getting forcefully advanced to the next stage by well-meaning friends. Luke could guess, though. And considering the limits on his version of the technique and what Arya could do with hers, he wasn’t too optimistic about Spiros’s version helping him throw stuff further.

Still, he did have faith in his friend and resolved to let Spiros try and win on his own merits and act if, and only if, it looked like he was about to lose. Or at least wait until after the competition starts and see what things look like.

With one problem resolved, at least for now, Luke moved on to his primary concern. Hephaestus.

The deity had proven himself inconsistent with how he enforced his rules and, on more than one occasion, had put his hands on the scales.

It's evident in hindsight that he was trying to make the tournament more fair, not less, but he’s bending the rules after making them, which is innately unfair. Sure, letting Blinky fight the Hydra would have let us kill the thing ridiculously fast, and yeah, it was kind of unfair for five of us to team up and set an ambush, but we were also following the letter of his rules.

Arguably, the spirit, too. It’s not like he said we couldn’t team up. It felt stupid not to, and there was too much incentive and very little in the way of cons.

So, how is this going to work then?

He explicitly said, ‘Throw your weapons.’ Anything that isn’t throwing a weapon could be deemed cheating. But–

Luke remembered why they were having this half-baked version of a final round instead of what had initially been planned and felt a surge of panic. He tamped down on it along with the paranoia that this was some kind of plot to ease him into a false sense of comfort. Not because that concern was unfounded but because Luke was expecting a shoe to drop and everything to go to hell any moment.

He had to, considering the God Seed still hadn’t revoked its offer to use a charge. Even now that he had seemingly exonerated himself by telling a truthful, if misleading, rendition of events as he knew them, the Seed tempted him to run.

Maybe it's the right move to make, but–

The outcome was too uncertain, and maybe he was arrogant to do so, but he wanted to bet on himself. The Seed may be his ticket to godhood, but he couldn’t use it as a crutch to solve all his problems, and while he couldn’t prove it, he suspected using the Seed as such would see him end up like his predecessor, Aeolus.

Weak.

Yeah, that’s not gonna be me. The Seed is potent, but in the end, it’s just a tool. I’m the one in charge. It can offer solutions, but the decision lies with me. Which means–

Luke took a deep breath, hardened his resolve, and raised his hand.

“Yes?” Hephaestus asked.

“What do you mean by throw?” Luke asked.

He felt heat rise in his cheeks as the other contestants turned to stare at him. Seeing as more than one of those looks was filled with judgemental contempt, he quickly clarified. “Can I use talismans, the abilities of my artifacts, potions, and other things to extend how far my weapon goes? Can we help each other? Can I knock stuff out of the air? What's the tolerance for interference? Would you be angry if I stabbed someone? Can I…”

Luke trailed off when the god sighed and held his hand up while his other absently massaged his eyebrows.

To his credit, Hephaestus seemed to think about it, and after a minute, his eyes snapped open and traveled to Maximus and then back to Luke’s with a glimmer of understanding and a touch of annoyance. Hephaestus’s gaze wasn’t accusatory, but he wanted the tournament over.

Luke feared that he had accidentally ruined his prize ticket and that Hephaestus would hand them a pair of rocks to throw instead. Maybe even a discus if he was feeling traditional. Only the god looked past them towards the audience, watching their every move from atop the pyramid, and shook his head.

Right, that would be boring, wouldn’t it?

“The answer to your question is yes. Do whatever you will, so long as you do not break the rules on item use and limit the level of your violence such that it is not sadistic. If you suffer injury past a level that I judge a permanent risk to your health, I will eliminate you. The only metric I will judge by is the distance between this platform and where your weapon touches the earth. Whatever happens in between is not of concern to me. Yet, we do not have all day for you to test yourselves against each other.” He paused and looked back towards the flattened peak of his pyramid as if asking for permission.

“Fifteen minutes. If any of your weapons are still in the air past that time, it will count as an automatic fail, and you will rank at the bottom but ahead of any of the contestants who have suffered major injuries and have been eliminated. Any other questions?”

“Not from me,” Luke said, watching as the god leveled his gaze on each contestant.

Icarus looked like he was about to say something again. Whatever it was, he decided against it. Instead, he shook his head and moved to the platform's edge. A second later, the ring on his finger flashed, and a thin, needle-like sword appeared in his hands.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Well, this just got a lot harder, but– Luke grinned. The god had made a basic throwing contest into a free-for-all with an arbitrary win condition. In doing so, he opened the door for Luke to do whatever he wanted. Which was precisely the response he had been looking for.

Of course, Luke knew that the other contestants weren’t pushovers, far from it. He knew that if it came down to a fight, he’d be hard-pressed to win even with his advantages. At the same time, he doubted that any of them had a tool as apt for the task as his.

“Very well.” The god nodded, and two golden barriers shimmered into existence on either side of the stage. Each was so tall that Luke couldn’t see over them and so long that he couldn’t see past them. Then, a moment later, another barrier appeared a hundred feet above their heads. Seemingly as an afterthought, it acted as a ceiling.

Luke guessed that the god didn’t want to have too big of an arena for them to play in. It wouldn’t be entertaining if they splintered into random directions and never came to blows.

Hephaestus gave everything one last look before deciding it had met his specifications, and he teleported away.

Guess it's game time now, Luke thought, banishing any thoughts unrelated to the challenge ahead.

“Five.” A robotic voice rang out from a place hidden from the contestants, signaling the start of the final round. Screens depicting their heroic faces appeared in the sky between the platform and the pyramid, each placed in a circle around an illusory hourglass set with fifteen minutes of sand. It began to spin on its axis.

“Four.” Maximus left its sheath on Luke’s hip and hovered in the air before him.

“Three.” Luke summoned golden armor from his storage ring and pressed his palm into its chest. Like a flower, the suit of armor opened up, and Luke turned on his heel and backed into it. Despite the circumstances, he felt giddy as it closed around him a moment later.

“Two.” Luke’s second sword appeared in his right hand, and a golden shield attached itself to his left forearm. Combined with Maximus, they were the most powerful warrior-tier artifacts he had.

“One.” He breathed in and activated his technique at the warrior level. Since advancing the First Truth of Death to the Foresight of the End, the mana cost had lowered drastically, at least when directed at people of the same tier as him. It would still bleed him dry eventually, but fifteen minutes of battle were within his limits.

The hourglass finished its rotation.

“Start.” The robotic voice echoed for the last time.

The world erupted into colors, water, and flame.

Ella, Theseus, and some guy who had activated Hephaestus’s flame spell instantly eliminated three people; those that remained leapt into action.

One person activated a talisman and, under its protection, took flight as fast as he could away from the platform. Luke saw him about to activate another, but he never got the chance.

Theseus blasted him with a beam of water so intense it broke his barrier but pierced him clean through his chest. It narrowly missed his heart, but the damage was done. His sword fell loose from his hand, flickering orange-red light surrounded him, and just like that, he was gone. Sixteen had become twelve.

At the very opposite end of the platform, Arya threw her dagger. Instead of throwing it away from the platform, she threw it to her right and caught her unsuspecting opponent straight in the thigh. Arya’s victim threw her spear forward with surprising grace but stumbled and fell to her knees the second the weapon left her hand. A moment after that, Hepaehstus teleported her out of the barrier.

Luke didn’t even have to fathom a guess as to why. Arya’s advancement of the First Stances may not have made her a better fighter, but it made her a lethal one. A single cut with one of her attacks would decimate any opponent given time. He had seen it used often enough on monsters to know that even a tiny cut would fester and spread until only rot remained. Only the most giant creatures could survive long enough to fight after, and humans didn’t qualify.

Spiros made his move a fraction of a second later. Like Arya, he didn’t attempt the task but attacked Icarus. The heir of House Paris wasn’t as lucky as Arya, though, and Icarus met his spear head-on with his needle sword. Then, wings made of metal sprung out of his back, and he flew away, evidently not interested in being forced into a fight. Unlike the first person to attempt it, Icarus pelted the platform with explosive talismans as he left, covering his escape and putting enough distance between himself and them that it seemed impractical to follow after. Especially when there were still threats close by that needed to be dealt with and when showing your back to an enemy was bound to get you wounded and removed from the competition.

Having seen the bombardment coming ahead of time, though, Luke instantly flooded mana into his shield and weathered the incoming onslaught with relative ease under its aegis.

The person next to him didn’t and flinched when the explosions went off. Luke took the opportunity to send out a wave of cutting light from his secondary blade and slashed him diagonally across the chest. Only to frown when the light failed to cut his opponent and only pushed him back a foot.

Some kind of invisible armor?

Not deterred, Luke continued to slash at him, and seeing a girl about to intrude on their fight, he sent Maximus to intervene on his behalf. The sword shot through the air and struck towards where her ankle was poised to land. She didn’t notice the golden blade in time, and Luke winced as it severed her foot.

Taking advantage of the moment, Ella speared rainbow light clean through the hand on which the opportunistic contestant wore her storage ring. Her fingers had just begun to fall off when Ella constructed a hammer from her rainbow light and whacked the side of her head with enough force to send her tumbling to the metal floor. Not giving her any time to recover, Ella began to punch her with fists made of rainbow light until Hephaestus finally took mercy and teleported the girl away.

Not fighting Ella back in the forest may be the best decision I’ve ever made. Luke thought to himself and redoubled his efforts against the guy fighting him. His armor proved tricky, but Luke could see every attack coming in advance. Keen to end the fight, Luke sent his mana through one of the spell icons he had constructed and doused the other person in fire, uncaring of the mana he was spending. He could afford to splurge. Luke’s opponent attempted to use a talisman, but the paper turned to ash when it came out of his ring. Beads of sweat rolled down his opponent's face as he desperately tried to close the distance, but Luke firmly kept three steps ahead of him. Eventually, the flame's heat became too much for Luke’s opponent to resist. Orange light flickered around him, and he was eliminated from the tournament.

Looking slightly sorry for giving the guy enough second and third-degree burns to last a lifetime, Luke surveyed the playing field.

Icarus had flown off, but at some point, Theseus had gone after him. The Son of Poseidon was much slower than Icarus and his metal wings, but Theseus’s hydrokinesis was powerful enough that the Athenian warrior was having trouble dodging.

After consideration, Luke funneled mana into his secondary sword and sent multiple arcs of cutting light toward them. They whizzed past Theseus, and while most seemingly missed, a single arc of cutting light struck true and clipped Icarus’s wings. This was all the opportunity Theseus needed, for the next moment, the son of Poseidon closed the gap and relentlessly tore through a newly deployed protective talisman and skewered the Athenian with a water jet.

Luke celebrated for a second and watched as Ella made her move and shot off the platform straight toward the Atlantean Prince. A bubble of rainbow light wrapped around her, warding off the attacks from both front and back.

Luke took a deep breath and recalled Maximus back towards his body. They had discussed beforehand that the five of them wouldn’t be allies at this round in the tournament and that fighting amongst themselves was fair play. However, seeing Ella and Theseus begin to go at it with zero hesitation was still surprising.

Not that he could blame them. This whole round was chaos; Theseus and Ella likely considered themselves the biggest threats. Both were children of gods, and both commanded powerful and destructive bloodlines. It only made sense for them to finish each other off before doubling back and getting rid of the stragglers.

As the two duked it out, Luke considered his next move. After the initial burst of chaos, eight people had been eliminated, two fought in the sky, and six remained on the platform. The fighting on the platform had tapered off as those remaining took each other's measure.

“I'll take him,” Arya yelled, pointing at the person closest to her.

“I’ll take her,” Spiros said a moment later.

“Which leaves you for me.” Luke grinned at the only person left. A bald and muscular-looking kid dressed in ruby armor and wielding two axes. One in each hand.

An arrogant smile split his face. “They call me Moros.”