Tom re-opened his eyes and stared at the spot the turtle dog had previously occupied. Despite all of her strength and that dangerous-looking natural armour, she had somehow failed while fighting her six-point five target.
His rule of thumb during the tutorial and in his first life on Existentia had been that, when fighting monsters, he could cross a thirty percent rank difference. That freedom he gave himself was far less when fighting sapients. She had fought something with a rank fifty percent higher than hers, which mathematically gave her a five times raw attribute disadvantage. Without fate sizing up his opponent for him, Tom knew he would lose badly against those types of odds.
The five times estimate might have seemed like an exaggeration, but that’s what a bonus of fifty percent to all four metrics got you. Fifty percent more spells hit fifty percent harder, move fifty percent quicker and more accurately, and then, even if you could match all of that, the other person was also fifty percent harder to kill. All of those small advantages added up.
If she had run into someone even half as naturally talented as she was, the gap in attributes would have meant she would have been trounced. That was the fine line they were walking, and Tom felt terrible about her not making it. She had been nice to him and recognised that he was not callous, but just a victim of ignorance. In contrast to most of them, she had been a genuine rank four and half-way to rank five. Unlike Tom, she would have been fighting someone less than twice her rank, but abilities mattered when crossing attributes gaps like that. It was possible that she had lacked the tools to push even over that small gap. After all, she was a child, and how much could she have learnt? What Briana knew, for example, would be useless in this sort of battle.
Then again, other civilisations were probably giving their children skill shards rather than following humanity’s approach of forcing them to learn everything from the first principles.
The pot plant at least was still here, and he could tell by how its vines spread out that it was shocked at the death of its neighbour. Quietly, and because it was going to happen no matter what he did, he checked out the rest of the room.
His eyes went straight across to the powerful combatant, the one who lived off algae. He stood there, uninjured. Then his eyes slid around the circle to the last of the final six. Collective Iron, that jumble of metal pieces, was missing.
Two dead. The realisation caused his brain to grind to a halt.
Two of them had died, one had abstained, which meant just the act of preserving his own life had… it felt surreal to even be considering the idea.
Somehow, he had got the spot. He kept expecting the rug to be pulled out and for someone to burst into the room, maybe teleport, laughing and crowing at how well their prank had done.
Nothing like that happened.
“Human?”
His head snapped up, and he looked at the presenter in shock.
She was staring straight at him.
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Everyone, he realised, was staring at him, because his area was highlighted with light.
“You are currently in the third spot.” The presenter told him. “Will you claim one of the positions or will you abstain to allow another to take it?”
Tom was thrown by that question. If he had thought about it, he would have known it was coming, but, to be honest, he had assumed he wasn’t getting through, and so this wasn’t a question he had prepared for. His eyes unbidden switched to Swift Hope, who was the next in line if he chose to step away.
“Give it to me, please.” Swift hope blubbered instantly. “We have local support. We’ve sealed the entrance to the underground. And… um… The nearby nation of Huddas has declared they will protect us. They also worship Deus, and they are powerful.”
“So why can’t they raise your abilities back up?” the pot plant person asked. “Why is it on us to sacrifice rather than the Huddas?”
Swift Hope deflated slightly, but only a little. “They would if they could, but they specialise in body abilities, and, because they have a jellyfish form, they can’t pass their skills on to us. But from a military perspective, they are going to aid us. All we need is a single chance to get access to the skills. I’ll get them and become a teacher, and, in a generation we can be restored. I need this. I’ll be a hero. Please, be kind. This is our only opportunity.”
Tom stood, almost paralysed with indecision.
His eyes flicked to the two who had also made it in. They, he guessed, were going to be his teammates going forward. What did they think?
“It’s your choice. Neither of us will judge you,” the pot plant told him. “Only you personally know how close to extinction your race is, and, to be honest, it sounds like Swift Hope’s people are not in dire straits.”
“Agreed,” the tall, strong other qualifier stated. “I agree a hundred percent. Swift Hope’s people have protection for now. I’m sure some time in the next ten generations another genius will emerge that can save them.”
“No, we don’t know that,” Swift Hope protested.
Tom met the presenter’s eyes. “What does Deus want me to do?”
“DEUS has set the rules. She has no incentive to interfere further. You must make this choice for yourself.”
“Please, please, this is all my species’ need. You will be forever honoured. I’ll get statues of you put up.”
Those words were the wrong ones to say to Tom. He could imagine a future where the only signs of humanity were those so-called statues. An honour given to a species so weak they didn’t seize the opportunity to save themselves.
“I’ll take the spot.” He told the room.
He heard a squeal of anguish, and, the next thing he knew, he was back in the isolation room.
Instinctively, he blinked in an out of the pseudo system room and confirmed that no time had passed, despite the hours he had spent healing himself and the more limited time spent fighting and talking. Time dilation had been in play, and reduced that all to zero.
Tom froze when he glanced around the physical space. He understood how many defences and wards were in place to protect him in here, but, despite that, the presenter was sitting, unconcerned, in a chair that didn’t use to exist.
“Congratulations, Tom.”
“What’s this about?”
“I’m here to give you a brief overview of what The Divine Champions’ trial is.” She waved her hand, and the arm and spear that he’d gotten from down below vanished. “I’ve returned them to storage in their correct spots. No one will ever know they were taken.”
“Um…oh… that’s very thoughtful. But how?”
She laughed. “How what? How am I here? How did I teleport the items below despite all the restrictions?”
“I didn’t mean to ask. It just slipped out.” He backtracked hurriedly.
“Tom, I’m the most powerful being you’ve ever met face to face. I oversee the DEUS part of the champions’ trial. I’m gifted with her power, but constrained by rules. When I can bend them, I do. Like with returning your armour. That was something I can do within the rules, as it was out because of the contender challenge. Because I can act and it could help you, I did.”
“Thank you.” He remembered the full circumstances that brought her here, and the drama at the end. “Um… was I right to do as I did? Will the Dusk die because of it? That girl, Swift Hope, she seemed pretty upset.”