7

  LEVEL ONE: THE DRAGON STONES

  REMAINING CONTESTANTS: 9,873,115

  TIME UNTIL CULLING: 59 days

  NAME: JACK REN

  CURRENT RANK: 1,235,008

  We find food in the castle, the discovery of which brings me so much joy that I’m nearly brought to tears. The options aren’t great—stale bread, strips of salted meat, potatoes that have started going bad—but the three of us are so hungry, so desperate, that it simply doesn’t matter. We eat until we feel sick and wash it all down with more water from the well. Then we pick rooms, and Earl and I separate in order to get some sleep while Elizabeth takes first watch.

  I sleep deeply and have no dreams. When I wake, Loki is floating in front of me, a golden blur. I’m not expecting the damned thing to be so close, and it gives me a fright.

  “What do you want?” I say, rubbing at my bleary eyes.

  I am simply here to inform you that it is time for me to leave, says the Whisper.

  I blink. “What do you mean? Leave where?”

  The purpose of the Whispers is to introduce you to the Reality Games, Loki explains. Our job is done. You have been introduced. And you must now continue on your own.

  I grit my teeth. “But I don’t feel remotely introduced. I still have a thousand questions, and what about the rest of the levels—?”

  If it deemed necessary for further information to be communicated, says Loki, then it will be communicated. But until then, I have been disbanded, and in mere moments will cease to exist.

  I hesitate. I can’t say I’ll miss the thing—there’s very little to miss. Aside from the fact it has no personality, isn’t a person, probably isn’t even sentient, there’s also the simple truth that its presence is a constant reminder of where I am and what’s being doing to us. Loki is a tool of the Celestan Empire. Therefore, I want nothing to do with Loki.

  Even still, it has been somewhat comforting knowing that I have a source of information floating around by my shoulder. At a time when everything is particularly uncertain, Loki has been a boon.

  “So,” I say, “you’re essentially dying.”

  The comparison is not quite accurate, but— and the thing pauses for the very first time as though actually taken aback. But yes. That is, I suppose, more or less the situation.

  I stand and salute the Whisper. “Well. Thanks for all the help, I suppose.”

  And then it blinks out of existence, leaving behind nothing but a faint golden afterglow in the air.

  A little later, the three of us eat together as the sun rises, and we try to devise a plan.

  “We need to find a dragon stone,” Earl says into the silence. “I mean, that’s the whole point of this level. But also—who gives a fuck about the level? The more important point is this: there are, supposedly, fucking dragons lying around here somewhere. Let’s just imagine, for a second, that somebody else gets one of these stones and then starts flying around with one of those things. And while I think the very concept of dragons flying around in the first place is complete and utter bullshit, I’ve seen enough in this place already to assume that it is possible, and that it would be an unpleasant experience for us. Unless we get to one first.”

  I can’t argue with that, and it more or less echoes my own thoughts. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to do the exact thing that our captors wants us to and yet, at the very same time, is practical enough to recognize it might be the only way to survive this ordeal.

  “It seems like the obvious way forward,” Elizabeth concedes. “But that brings us to the obvious question: how do we find one?”

  We all sit in silence for a while. Eventually, I say, “We likely just have to keep traveling. Eventually, I’m sure, we’ll come across something useful. We have to remember, they don’t want us wandering around pointlessly. This is for their entertainment. So, as long we’re in constant motion, something is bound to happen.”

  “True enough,” says Earl, “but that something might not be in favor. I don’t much like the idea of blindly stumbling into situations we can’t control. We need intel.”

  “Did the two of you also lose your Whispers?” I ask.

  They both nod.

  I sigh. “Well. Guess we’re on our own. Not that the damned things were particularly helpful.” I glance at Elizabeth. “Where did you wake up when this thing started?”

  Earl stands, starts to move away.

  “Where are you going?” Elizabeth asks sharply.

  “To find something to draw on,” Earl calls back. “And something to draw with. We need to create a map. Maybe we can figure out where the three of us started and start to get an idea of the land around us. Then, as we explore…” he gives us a toothy grin. “Listen, a good, solid map might be the most valuable thing we could possibly get our hands on at this point. Don’t underestimate the power of geography.”

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  We spend the next ten minutes searching for materials. Eventually, in one of the spare rooms, we find ourselves standing before a bookshelf filled with a few old, dusty tomes. We pull them out at random and flick through them. They’re empty, even though the spines boast titles and author names. Meaning they’re nothing more but hollow set decorations. It’s a sobering discovery, because although we all already understand that our present situation is little more than reality TV for the spectating aliens, this just hammers the point in to a comical level. I’m filled with a sense of powerlessly that, stubbornly, I fight against.

  We take one of the books, deciding it’ll be our Codex of Maps. And then we get lucky and find a stick of charcoal in one of the other rooms which, although clumsy, is more than good enough for us to start outlining the features we’re already familiar with: the dark woods, the castle, the land surrounding the castle…

  We roughly mark the spots where we believe we’d each started. Then we start to mark the map with cardinal directions, before realizing that, as far as we know, in this place, the sun doesn’t actually rise in the east and set in the west in the way we’re familiar with.

  “I think,” says Elizabeth, “that we should stay here. At the castle. It’s a solid, defensive location. There are rooms underground. There’s storage. Food, even if it’s shit. We have walls, obviously, and plenty of vision, so if anyone approaches from any direction, we’ll see them long in advance. It’s hard to imagine that if we simply go wandering, we’re going to easily find a place better than this.”

  But Earl is shaking his head. “No, no. Sister, this location is a deathtrap, and in a game like this, where we’re all racing to progress, sitting still and stagnant is as good as simply killing ourselves.”

  This mirrors my own thoughts, and I’m a little surprised that Earl so sharply echoes them. Not that I think he’s stupid, far from it, but even still.

  “What if one of us goes out and scouts the area,” she suggests, “and the other two stay back—”

  I shake my head as well. I don’t need to be special forces to know splitting up is a bad idea, and I tell her so.

  In the end, we decide to leave the castle immediately. Earl suggests, at first, waiting until the morning…but I’m uncomfortable with the idea of wasting another night while millions of our fellow contestants are running amok and leveling up. We need as many advantages as we can get, and there are none to be found here.

  #

  We set out from the castle, having scavenged three leather saddle bags that Earl helped adjust so that they fit us rather than a horse. In these bags, we bring as much food as we can, as well as canteens we’ve filled with water from the well. Earl says that each of us has around a week’s worth of supplies, so long as we really stretch them out.

  I think about Sarah as we cross the grassy expanse beneath a clear, sunny sky. I wonder what she was thinking in those last few moments before we were taken. I wonder what I could’ve done differently. In a way, I know, it’s my fault that she’s involved at all…but I feel no guilt, no self-loathing. How could I have known? It’s hardly as though I want this.

  So, I don’t need to feel guilty, nor do I need to hate myself.

  As long as I get her back.

  If I can do that, I am absolved.

  If I can throw myself at this problem wholeheartedly with a willingness to sacrifice anything and everything, all so that I can save Sarah…I’ll be redeemed.

  But how? That question circulates endlessly through my mind.

  It seems like an impossibility. Because out of ten million contestants chosen from a multitude of worlds, timelines, and realities, it seems hard to believe that I, Jack Ren, am truly the apex predator amongst them. It simply can’t be true. And I can’t help but feel that even Earl is proof that it’s not.

  So, how do I win?

  I ponder that question as one hour drags by, then a second, then a third…the sun is burning the back of my neck. It’s hot, even despite how light my tunic is.

  We ascend a small, green hill. By that point, the castle is long gone, far out of sight. We don’t intend on going back. I have to admit, though, I miss the security, real or imagined, of the solid walls. Of an enclosed sleeping space. Of towers. Sure, practically speaking, three people isn’t enough to hold a castle against a determined enemy, but it sure had been nice to pretend even for just one night.

  Earl, who is moving slightly ahead of Elizabeth and I, comes to a sudden, hard stop.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, but Earl just waves us forward.

  We join him on top of the hill. Immediately, my heart rate accelerates. I stare, amazed, more than a little afraid, at the impossible sight before us.

  It’s a battle.

  An immense, chaotic battle with no sides.

  There are hundreds of participants, spread across a green field decorated with farm houses and ash trees. There are no ranks or formations. There’s no order. Instead, many, many figures, each of them indistinct from this distance, are fighting in pairs, or small groups, or running away, or running into the conflict.

  Most of them are wielding weapons we’re already familiar with. Swords, spears, bows, axes, that sort of thing.

  Others, however, are doing things I can’t quite understand, not at first glance.

  One figure, on the closer side to where we’re standing, raises both hands and shouts something that I can only just hear, the ghost of his words carried on a sudden gust of warm wind.

  A moment later, light collects in his palms, twin balls of flame coalescing. He shouts again and lashes out with both hands. The fireballs fly through the air, projected at high speed, and slam into the chest of a tall, four armed figure standing maybe thirty feet away. The figure erupts, their entire body set alight all at once. I hear their shriek clearly, and even catch a whiff of burning flesh as they collapse in the grass.

  Elsewhere, contestants are stabbing each other, punching, shooting arrows, running for cover. I see a woman kick down the door of a farmhouse. I see someone else on their knees, trying desperately to hold in their intestines.

  Pure chaos for as far as I can see.

  “Well, fuck me,” Earl murmurs.

  Elizabeth grimaces. “Wonder what they’re all fighting over. Might be that there’s something here.”

  “A dragon stone?” I ask.

  “Maybe,” Earl sounds skeptical. “Not sure I wanna find out. I say, we skirt around the battle, or else change directions entirely.”

  I frown, conflicted between two urges: the first and most obvious, which is to flee, to avoid a situation that is obviously extraordinarily dangerous. And the second, which is to wade down into the battle and turn it to my advantage. Because every single person down there, I know, is becoming more powerful with every kill, advancing up the ranks while I—and Sarah—are left behind.

  “I say we go around,” Elizabeth gestured to the edge of a patch of trees off to the side. “People are retreating that way. Wounded contestants.” She flashes us her white teeth. “We, however, are not wounded. So, I say we pick them off. Take ‘em by surprise. If we can take out a couple of them each…”

  “Levels,” I say grimly.

  Earl scratches his chin. He doesn’t like it, I can tell. His soldierly instincts are telling him that this is a bad idea, a battle that’s best avoided. But this is nothing like the warfare he’s used to. The rules are entirely different, and constant, active engagement is the only way to win.

  Earl reaches for an arrow. “Alright,” he says. “Fine. If you two want action…let’s go get some.”