He woke late and found himself lethargic and irritable all day.

The next night, he repeated the process.

Kang elbowed him for the third time in the morning lessons. “I’m awake,” he protested while wiping away the drool that pooled from his mouth. “I’m awake,” he repeated.

The other boy glared at him. “This is ridiculous. Get more sleep.”

Tom wanted to argue, but he knew Kang was right. Him sleeping in class was suspicious, and if there were human spies, he needed to avoid standing out. It felt fundamentally wrong to be even considering the possibility, and he couldn’t comprehend how anyone would actively work against reincarnators, given the stakes, given that the extinction of the entire species was on the line. However, nor could he fully discount the possibility. With so many examples of betrayal during human history, it was easy to imagine someone being turned. A lover abducted, a misguided sense of revenge, or just plain stupidity leading them to believe that helping the enemy eliminate reincarnators was in humanity’s best interest were all motives that could lead to such selfish, degenerate behaviour. It was horrifying that he could imagine so many ways that the unthinkable could happen. But he could envisage it, so it was a definite possibility, and so he had to assume they were there and take things more carefully.

For the next two days, he forced himself to act normally and sleep through the night. With only three days before the contender challenge, he knew he was running out of time.

He fought the orcs in the hope of creating a new skill that could help him in the coming competition, but there were no welcome dings. Spear Mastery and Power Strike both improved by a single level, but these were not the gains he was hoping to make.

The next night, he visited the isolation room. It was as boring as his last session, but he completed it, and, following the ding, brought the new title up.

Title: Acid Resistance (II): 3% chance to gain 35 seconds of immunity when exposed to an acid. All acids do 5% less damage to your skin.

Awarded for: Being subjected to topical exposure of sufficient acid to kill you thirty-two times over in a single day and surviving on three separate occasions with three different acids.

He sighed in relief at the details that had been recorded. The title had upgraded, as predicted, and had probably tripled in power. With the growth, he could see that, when he upgraded it to level five, it was going to be as strong as his previous venom title. Something like all acid damage reduced by twenty-five percent, and a similar chance to get immunity for a couple of minutes when exposed to an acid source. If that was the end point, it would be a valuable title.

He had also managed to get extra data on how the process worked in terms of the quantities required. With the middle acid, to ensure the session qualified, he had almost emptied the bottle and must have used close to seventy lethal doses, but with the latest acid, he had stopped when he had heard the ding. Instead of the seventy percent extra, he had only required twenty percent more than expected. He had gone for a massive overkill on that second attempt. The fact he had been pouring the acid over his back and covering all of himself simultaneously was probably the reason for the improved efficiency between his latest session and his first. Going forward, he intended to adjust his consumption accordingly.

He left to sleep. Then, with the deadline coming, he slept through the night without attempting extra-curricular activities. The following night, the internal alarm clock he had set went off an hour before the contender challenge was due to start.

Giving himself an hour meant he could sneak down to the armoury via the metal door and then back to the isolation room. Dressed in full armour and a real spear in his hands, he waited patiently for the countdown to finish.

He spent the last five seconds in the contender’s system room, just in case that was required. Three…

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Two…

One…

The world shivered and, briefly, all he could see was blackness.

When the disorientating sensation faded, Tom found himself in a far larger room. The ceiling was stretching twenty metres high above him and the walls were more than forty metres away. It reminded him of a throne room created for a species bigger than humans, with lots of polished marble and elaborate flourishes in the stonework. He was wearing a basic set of clothes that felt like they had zero defensive value and the weapon and armour he had gone to the trouble of sourcing had not come through with him.

He wasn’t surprised.

Then there was another shift in reality, and he was no longer alone. He and everyone else were arranged symmetrically around a massive circle that must have had a diameter of over forty metres. He had a dedicated space that was a couple of adult body lengths across. The symmetry let him know instantly that thirty-two people were here, and, while he was tiny compared to the assigned area, some of the other contenders filled their space completely. They were just that bulky.

His new body possessed no skills that he could use to accurately assess others, apart from his ability to sense fate and a general ability to weigh the power of his opponents. He utilised both in tandem to get a feel for those assembled. Around half had a fate level of between ten and twenty, which, if their physical attributes matched their fate, would place that group at rank one. However, the other half all had higher levels.

He studied his closest neighbour.

It was a hulking, turtle-like canine with a fate pool of twenty-three. That was far less than Tom’s own, but he was human, and fate was humanity’s main attribute, especially with their new trait. It made sense that his was so much higher. However, for the turtle-dog, Tom was certain that the rest of its attributes were at similar levels. It certainly looked like it was at least rank three or four rather than his own value of zero, and, beyond that, it had a natural armour that would also aid it in a fight.

He was pretty sure he would be unable to beat it.

Next to it was what looked like a large pot plant. It had little fate, but all of its branches were moving independently, and, once more, he felt overwhelming power radiating from it.

Tom quickly looked away to the next in line and relaxed slightly. This one which had what Tom was starting to suspect was the most common body plan of sapient species: four legs with two arms, it, unlike the first two, did not radiate the oppressive power. It was something that he could beat.

It was a squat creature that would outweigh his body by at least of factor of two, even if, on tippy toes, it would only come up to his waist. The person was thick, and, as it shifted from one side of its space to the other, it moved almost too fast for Tom to follow its motion. It was clearly speed-based and had a skill analogous to Quick Step, but, despite those enormous advantages, it was weaker than the first two creatures he had checked.

He gulped. If this contest required duels, he might very well be outclassed.

The next monster in line was a dull ball of light, and had almost as much fate as Tom did, but, once more, felt weak. Some of the monsters, Tom decided, could be beaten, even if others were beyond him.

“Welcome to all contenders,” a smooth voice said. “You are the thirty-two best prospects for your age in all of Existentia. You should all be proud of qualifying. For reaching this place, you are guaranteed a great title. You have won, and there is no need to chase the sun and get burned.”

The speaker appeared in the centre of their circle. Tom saw a human female, which meant everyone else saw their own species. Despite that, she was not speaking directly to him rather she was turning slowly on the spot and making eye contact with all.

“I’m sure you’re all confused about what’s happening, and I’m going to be honest with you. There are three open slots available. Most of you aren’t good enough to qualify.” Tom froze. Had she been looking at him when she had said that? “Most of you should take the title you have received and not put your lives at risk. But there are some…” She paused and glanced around the room. This time, she definitely did not look at him. Her eyes went instead to the pot plant, a wyvern-like creature, and someone that looked somewhat like a goblin, but with tentacles in place of arms. “There are some of you who may feel you have no choice but to give your all, but I implore that you do not. If you die, you will only accelerate the deaths of your species.”

What the fuck? Tom thought as he tried to understand what she was saying.

“And some of you will push beyond the point you should stop.” This time, he was one of the people she focused on. “You are all contenders, and the top three will enter the Divine Champions’ Trial. No one needs to die, but I am required to share the truth. Historically, less than two-thirds of the contenders have left here alive, and it’s not because we force battles to the death. Everyone has the option to compete with a GOD’s shield. No one needs to die! When you exit, you’ll get a title. If you join the Divine Champion’s Trial, you may end up with riches that exceed that of everyone in your civilisation. At least, for those who are successful. For everyone else, seeking glory comes with risk. Before I go into the details of that risk, I want you to understand who your fellow contenders are and what’s motivating them. First,” she turned to face Tom. “We have a human amongst us. He is a member of a current competitor species.”

A huge upwelling of noise greeted that statement.