The presenter declaring him as being part of the current competition had caused everyone gathered to react. Anger, bitterness, annoyance, and a touch of interest radiated at him from all sides of the room.
“Study it. From its body language, it’s intending to compete,” an amorphous blob about the size of a hippo shouted. It was, in Tom’s calculation, the fifth-strongest contender here. “Hey, loser,” he bellowed at Tom. “Quit now.”
“Yes, what a waste.”
“You can’t, in all good conscience continue.”
“Stop this foolishness!”
The abrupt explosion of vitriol was enough to make Tom step back in surprise. He wasn’t sure why they were talking to him like this. Of course he intended to seize the opportunity. There was no way he would walk away just because some natives thought he should.
The amorphous blob snorted. “The idiot probably doesn’t even know.”
“True, the blob’s right.” The turtle canine next to him with a surprising female voice, given its ferocious exterior, said. “It doesn’t know. Human,” it said, facing him. “Are you intending to fight?”
“Of course.”
“I hope you don’t consider it rude of me to ask, but do you understand the greater purpose the trial serves?”
“It’s a chance for me to get stronger.” He answered neutrally. He wasn’t sure what she was referring to.
The person jumped up and down on the spot to indicate its polite but firm disagreement with his opinion. Because of its shell, its weight made each jump sound like a sledgehammer hitting stone when it landed. “No, it’s more than that. The Divine Champions Trial is an opportunity for all of us to bring skills and spells back to our people that we would otherwise never get. It is a chance to renew our entire race.”
“Exactly, I need that,” the pot plant like creature agreed. “The strongest ability my species has available to teach is a tier-two camouflage spell. Our best class path is only an advanced one. Can you comprehend how weak that makes us? We’re barely holding on.”
“True.”
“I’m the same.”
Other voices yelled out in the room. There was an edge of despair to all of them. The relatively few spots available did not match the number of desperate people.
The turtle canine flared its power using some kind of aura to suppress everyone else. “I see you don’t understand what we’re saying. The thing is as a competitor species, you have full access to the experience shop. You don’t need to be here. No one blames you for ignorance, but this is the point you should resolve to step aside and not compete for one of the spots.”
Tom looked out over everyone gathered and attempted to speak, but his throat choked up. Social Silence activating to prevent him from saying the wrong thing. Platitudes were out, as were outright lies, and the simple truth, that he was here for the extra power, was not an acceptable sentiment to verbalise. Seconds passed as he tried to find something that would work, until finally he found words the skill would let him squeeze out. “Please, don’t judge me. I have my reasons for being here.”
“But they’re not as good as ours.” The blob thundered.
“They are,” Tom refuted it calmly. “You’re here to save your species. That’s why I’m here as well.”
The turtle canine flared its aura once more. It was the second or third strongest here. “We understand your desire for power, but any benefit you can get from participating is minor. We know how the experience shop works. Any abilities you acquire from the Champions’ Trial are just ones that a year or so of grinding would allow you to buy. For all of us, without a fully functioning experience shop, those abilities represent a boon beyond imagination. It is an opportunity that has the potential to literally transmute the fate of my entire species.”
“You are exaggerating.” The presenter interjected, her voice instantly quietening the entire room. “For over half the contenders here, getting in will do nothing to alter the trajectory of their species.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“They won’t get in,” the turtle dog retorted. “They won’t get in, because they’re honourable and will stand aside. This human isn’t from Existentia, it doesn’t understand. It isn’t listening to what I’m saying.”
The presenter shrugged, and Tom was sure everyone saw the relevant body language of their own species. “Your statement was still an exaggeration. Only about half the people here will benefit.”
“And that’s a lot. And the human has to understand the stakes.”
The turtle canine stopped speaking as the presenter stared it down. “Good. Humility suits you. Your heart is in the right spot, and that should be commended. But your analysis is flawed. Any kind of statistical analysis of the current ranking ladder has humanity on track for extinction within a handful of generations. He has as much on the line as everyone else.”
Silence descended after she said that. More than one, in fact most of the hostile body posturing that had been directed toward him shifted to sympathetic.
The turtle dog reverted to snarling at him… in apology?
Tom remembered how, Mus that otter like man, from his first life in Existentia, had been able to read the body language of aliens. A similar affect was likely at play here, because there was no way he would have interpreted his neighbour snarling at him as a friendly, apologetic gesture which his mind was assuring him that it was. On earth, amongst all canine species, snarling at anything like that was a threat, but for this person, it meant the opposite. The miscommunication, the incorrect reading of body language, was something that Tom had previously noted as a problem when dealing with natives.
Whatever the magic was that existed in the room had completely mitigated that risk. With it active, it was impossible for him to misconstrue their intentions. Or, at least, that was his assumption.
“I’m sorry, friend.” The turtle canine said finally. “I’m sorry about your situation, but I stand by my observation. What little personal advantage you can extract from the Divine Champions’ Trial is nothing like what the rest of us can expect to achieve.”
The presenter cleared her throat.
“I mean, those of us from diminishing civilisations.”
“She is rude, but she has a point,” the goblin loudly interrupted. “I, for one, will not be contesting entry to the championship. My species does not need it, and I will not doom another race in the pursuit of personal glory.”
“Hear, hear.”
“I concur.”
A chorus of voice rushed to agree. Tom noted who was speaking. In terms of strength, it seemed that those destined to try the hardest for the limited spots had the same range as those exiting.
“Yes, we all have our roles to play,” the presenter continued. “But there is a process to go through, and I did not start with the human out of malice.” Then she nodded at the armoured dog. “Or to let the more eloquent amongst us to lobby for the human to change his opinions. I let it slide, because educating everyone here served the greater good. But we have much to cover and little time to do it. I started with the human because of tradition. He is the sixteenth strongest here. His species is rated as being at extreme extinction risk, and its suitability, the natural personal combat strength of the species, is dismal. The backing he has received is also only rated as average.”
Everyone absorbed what she had said for a moment. Tom could feel the shock they all felt at those statistics.
The turtle canine flexed her power like she usually did to get attention. “So, he is a genius.”
“Almost everyone here is.” the presenter agreed. “But amongst you, yes, he is one of the most promising ones.” She smiled and looked around the room. “But enough of him; next, as per the normal order, we have the weakest.” Subtly, the light switched to highlight the dull ball of light which was only a few spots from Tom. “The Wodane was identified as a genius early in her life, and the community poured resources into her in the hope of turning her into a true champion. Her species’ extinction risk is rated as extreme, her species suitability rating is poor, and her resource backing is slightly above average.”
Tom registered that information. He was ranked sixteenth, and this person was the weakest, the thirty-second best, even though she had started out with a stronger body and superior backing. This pool was drawn from all of Existentia. Him being here and possibly in contention was a real achievement.
The ball of light flashed in agitation at the statement from the presenter. Tom got the sense that she was expressing sadness along with resolute determination and a refusal to give up.
The presenter sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye. “I understand the sentiment. But you dying here will only result in your species lasting three more generations instead of five. It is not a worthwhile trade.”
The flashing got worse.
Tom could feel the distress, and he understood the reason for it. Ultimately, everyone here was effectively a child, so logic could not triumph over emotion. The ball of light was struggling to understand the tradeoff that the presenter was referring to.
“I’m not sharing anything you didn’t know,” the presenter continued kindly. “The longer we can stretch the survival of your species, the more opportunities there will be for an encounter or a divine intervention that can save you. The combat rankings I’m giving you are not set in stone. If they were, we would not have this contest, but, I must stress, you are the weakest. There is no way you’re crossing the divide. The human is probably eighth in terms of those going for an open spot. He has a chance of making it through. But I won’t lie to you. You don’t.”
The ball of light lowered itself, so it was almost touching the ground. For him, it was like a human child curling up in distressed agony and sobbing on the floor. It was painful to witness.
“I’m sorry,” the presenter said. “I’m sorry, but this is how the world works. And I can’t change it, and DEUS can’t change it. All we can do is… I’m so sorry.”
“See that, human.” the turtle dog interrupted. “Can you see her pain? That’s why you shouldn’t be competing.”