The nightmare snuck up on him, breaking through his normal dreams and seizing him before he fully registered its presence.

It was a scene from the past.

It was particularly horrific, because he recognised it. This was the moment that had forced him to change, the one that had set up the transformation that took him from being an apprentice builder to a tenacious violent survivor in a monster-filled tutorial.

Aghast, but unable to tear himself away the nightmare progressed, ignorant of his wishes to be elsewhere, Dux, a fragment of consciousness assigned to aid his transition, stood next to the wall that displayed a simple diagram. She was in her form as a perfect female. The outcome that would result from a placement in each of the spots from first to seventh, and then, drawing his worried gaze, the skulls next each of them.

It was enough to make Tom want to throw up - even now, over forty years later. This was the memory of the crushing realisation of exactly what they had faced.

The past him shuddered and pointed. “That’s, there’s, it’s, that’s not fair.”

Dux chuckled darkly. Tears were running down her cheeks. “No. It’s really not.”

“Then why do it?” He shouted at her before he could help himself. The logical bit of him knew this was not her fault, that he was being unfair by taking it out on her. After all, she was just the patsy tasked with explaining this to him, but the situation was so overwhelming his emotions were out of control, and yelling at her did not cost that much. She was not alive in the usual sense. She kind of didn’t actually exist. Instead, she was a limited clone of DEUS. Through comparing DUX to the GODDESS was like relating a misshapen branch floating on a river to a battleship because they could both float. Not as inconceivable as most comparisons to DEUS were, but still a poor one.

“Because…” Dux said in a broken voice. “Because DEUS is not in charge of this. She is only one of eight. Her ability to influence things is limited.”

“But look!” his finger stabbed at the table she had created. “If we get third. Third is a great result, better than average, but- but this is suggesting over two billion will still die!”

“But five will live.”

“Even the second one doesn’t spare us. Only first place matters. How could you do this?” It was true if you only looked at the death column, but practically any result of third or better remained a win. That was the tipping point where the majority survived, and humans, as a species, became unlikely to go extinct.

“DEUS does everything she can to avoid death. But don’t knock the third place. If you get that, your species can look forward to a long and prosperous history.”

He knew she was right, but he wasn’t going to admit that. His mind latched onto the lie instead. There was no way a GODDESS was doing everything she could. “How is she doing everything? She could have excluded us altogether. Never put us through this. And what of the other species? If we win, do we doom them?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“They have the same incentives as you do. But you have to realise that most other species will be better suited to surviving, even if not prospering, in the lower placements than humans.”

“But if we win, they die. Will the lives they lose be on our conscience?”

“That’s not your concern, Tom. That is on the GODs, not you. As I said, the other species will likely be less affected by getting lower places.”

“This whole idea is barbaric.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then why do it? How could GODs resort to such pointless loss of lives?”

“Tom,” her tone made him look at her. “It’s done. The competition exists because they want it to. There is no way to change that. The only things humans can do is to not place poorly.”

“But these deaths, they’re not academic. When we talk two billion deaths, that’ll mostly be kids, because you’re resetting everyone’s ages.”

“Yes. The young among those who place poorly suffer.”

“How can you say it so clinically?”

“Because ranting and raving doesn’t do anything.” She screamed at him. “It’s done. All you can do is step up and be strong enough to make a difference. Limit the harm.”

“My sister, she’s ten. She’ll become one of those statistics,” he accused. “And my parents, friends… If we get fifth place, ninety nine percent of people will die. If I survive, that’s basically everyone I know who’s dead.”

“Not accurate, you know more than a hundred people. There’ll still be four or five.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Don’t correct that statement on a technicality. I don’t care if the woman I buy my sandwiches from survives. What about the people close to me? Ninety nine percent dying in ten years. Don’t try to gaslight me. They’ll all be dead.”

“Then make sure humanity doesn’t get fifth. Stop complaining. Fight. Step up and win the competition.”

“How? With spells? With skills? Is it better to level them or buy higher tiers? What’s the right approach? Help me, please, give me a hint. This is my family that’s going to die, my little sister…” Tears were running down his cheeks.

“You’ll have to work that out.”

“But there must be rules.”

“And I’ve already told you them.” She said harshly.

“Optimal strategies, then.” He begged.

“Work those out yourself. I can’t help you with that, but I can repeat the rules. Every tier upgrades an ability by fifty percent. Every thirty-two levels do the same at tier-zero, and every four at higher tiers. Progressing both the quality and level of your spells is for the best.”

Tom did the maths. Levelling abilities, as he understood it, particularly on the levels she was referring to, were hard.

“So I should be buying higher tiers. But there’s not going to be enough experience, is there? Everything is about experience. And everyone has to make sacrifices on their build choices, don’t they?”

“Yes.” She answered quietly. “Experience, especially for a competition species, is everything. You can use it to buy items, traits, spells and skills.”

“So, what do I do?”

“Do you want to save your sister?”

“Yes, of course. What type of fucked moronic question is that?”

“Then do the best you can in the tutorial. Survive for longer than anyone else, accumulate contribution points, get into Existentia with an advantage, and leverage that into greatness. Take responsibility for your species rather than relying on others.”-

In his dream state, Tom remembered the enormity of that moment. It was the second time she had said almost those exact words, but this time they got through to him: the sense of the size of the task that faced him, the knowledge that it would not be easy, the fact that the other species dragged into this mad competition would be fighting just as strongly as he would. Not to mention that burning pit of certainty that he was going to do exactly what she said. Namely, survive like a cockroach, and then, when he got to Existentia, have a plan to guarantee the future of his species. The chance of Emily having a proper life would be up to him, rather than on the shoulders of others.

The nature of his dream shifted and changed.