Chapter 37 #2
“Participants acquire Ascension Points through victory in sanctioned combat events. Realm exit condition: accumulation of one thousand points.”
“One thousand points?” I repeat in disbelief. “What the fuck!”
Moe shifts beside me, her unease mirroring mine. “What happens if we lose a combat event?”
The wraith answers simply, “Death.”
Moe gasps.
I close my eyes in defeat. I assumed as much.
“And if…” She wets her lips. “If we don’t accumulate those points?”
“Exit conditions are unmet,” he replies without pause. “Participants remain until termination.”
His words are matter of fact.
With the conversation taking a morbid turn, I belatedly realize the environment has changed again.
The roads are entirely paved. Structures arise from the ground, some in more ruinous stages, others still standing and fully functional. The latter are tall buildings, supported by massive columns with battle motifs carved into stone.
We pass one of the obelisks, its surface rippling faintly as though it were made of liquid stone. Names and numbers drift across it in constant motion, never settling long enough to be fully read.
The words are written in a foreign language, but for some reason I recognize it.
“Can you read those, too?” Moe asks quietly.
“You too?”
She nods. “I think the realm must be giving us the resources to integrate. Think about it. The wraith, now the language? Everything is tailored for full immersion.”
“You’re right. Which only makes it stranger.”
“Do you think the male from Utopiya has something to do with this?”
“I don’t know yet. Perhaps. He was following us right before we ended up here.”
The wraith stops in front of an obelisk and turns to us.
“Combat assignments are issued in red through obelisks,” he says. “Participants may challenge any opponent. Depending on the danger level, participants are rated low risk, medium risk and high risk. Higher-risk engagements yield increased point values.”
He turns our attention to the ever changing names in white on the obelisk. “Should you lose any battle, you will be terminated and your name will appear here.” He pauses. “Termination results in soul extinction.”
The words hit me straight in the chest.
Moe stiffens. “Soul extinction?” she whispers.
“You mean our souls…”
“Will cease to exist, never to be incarnated again.”
I hold tighter onto Moe’s hand. She doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, she nestles closer to my side, hugging my arm and nuzzling her cheek against me.
She’s scared. I can tell. And I feel like a goddamn fool for ever allowing her to follow me—for dragging her into this mess.
It’s useless to think of what-ifs now. We are in this situation, we must get out of it. And regardless how terrified I am of what the future holds, for her sake, I must be strong.
Or at least seem strong.
We walk on in silence. Buildings come and go into our field of vision—some grander than others; while some in semi-ruinous states but still habitable.
I’ve lost track of time: how long we’ve been here now or for how long we’ve been walking. All around, I see only contractions, but so far no traces of other individuals.
“Where is everyone else then?” I suddenly ask.
“They are here. You are unable to see them. They are unable to see you. During orientation, you are in limbo. That ends tomorrow.”
“I see,” I mutter. “Looking forward to it.”
“Me neither,” Moe whispers drily.
We share a look and a small smile.
Another two or three hundred steps and we’ve arrived at a different area. Rocky, barren and quite inhospitable.
Ahead, a cluster of openings carved into the rock comes into view.
The guide stops in front of them. “Accommodation assigned.”
He gestures toward one of the thresholds. There is no door, only a faintly glowing line etched into the stone where an entrance begins.
“Space will remain allocated until termination or reassignment,” he adds. “You and your registered mortal are the only ones allowed to step into this space.”
“Reassignment? What does that mean?” Moe inquires as she steps forward to inspect the square-like structures.
“This is an entry-level accommodation, suitable for low-level combatants. Mid and high level combatants receive new lodgings according to their point earning.”
Entry level… I don’t even want to imagine what I’m going to find inside. I’m not even sure it will be able to accommodate two people.
I must be one of the few ones to have someone registered under me. I can’t see other species having a mortal side kick accompanying them…anywhere.
But that will only bring unwanted attention.
And the only one likely to suffer for it is Moe.
Just thinking about the fact that she’ll have to live in these deplorable conditions for the foreseeable future guts me.
It’s all my fault—
No. Stop! I can’t drown in this guilt forever. The only course of action I have is to turn all my emotions into actions and get us the hell out of here.
My lips pursed, I step forward into the room assigned to us. Moe is right behind me, while the wraith simply appears inside out of thin air.
The room is small. The edges, carved from stone, are hurried and uneven. A low bed sits at the center, layered with worn blankets that soften its edges. We’re clearly not the first to live here. Luckily, though, the bed is big enough for two people.
“You are fortunate,” the wraith interrupts my thoughts with his deadpan voice. “As the possessor of a registered mortal, you are assigned a double-room.”
“Oh,” is all I say. Now it makes sense why the bed is a double.
Nice of them, I suppose—aside from the entire battle to the death thing.
On either side of the bed, there are simple wooden tables. A few candles are strewn around the room, lighting it up and making it semi-hospitable. There is a small alcove half shielded by a curtain that appears to be the washroom—a small toilet, a sink and an even smaller shower space.
At least we won’t die due to our stench…
“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Moe mutters, a forced smile on her lips as she tries to make the best of the situation.
“I guess it’s livable,” I say with a sigh. “Although we’ll have to share a bed.”
I give her a grave look. We might have shared a tent before, but it was under the assumption it was a finite time. This, however…is quite infinite. We don’t know when we’ll get out—if we do.
“He just said you must fight to the death and you’re concerned about sharing a bed?” She rolls her eyes at me.
“I’m not concerned for me. I’m concerned for your sake. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
She shrugs. “I think we’re past comfort, in any shape or form. We’re lucky there’s enough space.”
“Yes, but—”
“I will be fine, Nyk. You’re really overbearing sometimes. I won’t drop dead because I share a bed with you. In case you forgot, I’m your property now.” She wiggles her marked wrist at me.
“Don’t joke with that. I don’t like it,” I say solemnly.
“Then stop treating me like I’m made of glass,” she fires back.
“All right. I’m s—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry again or I might kill you myself, Nykander.”
“All right, all right. I…” I swallow my words. “I’ll be good.”
“Good boy.” She pats me on the shoulder and gives me a smile.
I’m shocked at how she manages to find humor in such a grim situation, but I admire her ability to be able to smile. Mine is a lot more forced.
As I continue to scan the room, I note that along one side, there is a narrow bench with a bunch of scattered belongings—clothes, some pans, knives and other household items.
“Any item you purchase will remain here after your termination. These are from previously terminated individuals.”
‘After my termination’ sounds so…finite. As if my fate has already been decided.
“And how do we purchase items?”
“Via tokens. You may exchange points for tokens.”
Suddenly, four disks with a flower motif in the middle appear on the bed.
“You have been assigned four tokens by the system. You may use them to purchase food or other items for the time being. For any future purchases, you will be required to exchange points for tokens.”
I see. Very straightforward system. “And what is the value of a token. How much food can we buy with it?”
Moe gives me a nod of approval at my question.
“One token equals one day’s worth of food for one individual.”
Four tokens means two days for the two of us then.
“And what’s the point-token exchange rate?”
“One point equals one token.”
That’s not too bad, I think.
Moe doesn’t seem to agree with me, though. She purses her lips, her features tight.
“So we must earn points to eat and get out of here. It seems to me this system is quite tricky.”
“Only the strongest may exit,” the wraith says in response. “It is up to each participant how they manage their points.”
Moe bites her lip and glances at me. I nod, realizing her worry. This realm wants its participants to be stuck in a cycle: fight, earn, spend, die. The chances of us making it out seem slimmer and slimmer.
“Final directive.”
His voice is loud and clear, as if it were amplified like a siren.
Instantly, we turn our attention to him.
“Initial combat engagement required within forty-eight hours. You may either challenge a combatant of your choice or accept a challenge from a fellow combatant.”
“What?” Moe’s eyes widen.
“Forty-eight hours?” I ask.
“Failure to engage in any match triggers degradation protocol,” he continues smoothly. “Physical capacity will decline. Sensory function will diminish. Structural integrity will deteriorate. Your authorized mortal will experience the same fate. ”
Moe’s breath catches softly. “And if we still don’t fight?”
“Degradation will escalate to termination,” he confirms my fear.
Silence follows, thick and pressing. For a moment, no one moves.
The wraith takes a single step back, his role complete. “Starting tomorrow. Proceed to nearest obelisk. Select engagement. Accumulate points. Avoid termination.”
He turns to leave, his movements as precise as when we first saw him. He pauses, just long enough to look back.
“Welcome to Aimaxion,” he says.
There is no change in his tone. It’s the same flat, dead voice as before, yet now it sounds too ominous.
“Bleed well—or bleed to death.”
Then he disappears.
That slogan is starting to make sense.