I was about to write down what I had concluded about them, but realized it might harm you. So, I’ll quote the other snobby authors. Knowing too much, too early could cause more harm than good.

  — Excerpt from Notes For Newstar

  Day 6469, 10:10 PM

  A part of me wanted to dominate the challenge and grab all the available points. Another, more sensible part, told me six hundred was enough for first place, and that it would be wise to leave some points for the rest to fight over.

  The more boring part of my person won, and with seven hundred points under my belt, I cashed out, and appeared at the stadium. The crowd cheered, and Maelstrom made her way towards me, staring daggers.

  “You did that on purpose.” She stabbed her finger in my chest.

  “I honestly forgot, and the look of shock on your face was priceless.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “It hurt, you know? Like someone had actually stabbed me in the eye. I felt it for an entire heartbeat before the phantom pain vanished.”

  I bowed in an over-exaggerated manner. “I apologize, oh fragile, noble princess, for your suffering, which had absolutely nothing to do with me specifically. We were together in a challenge, and an assassin shot you. Where is that assassin, by the way? They earned me quite a few points, the least I can do is treat them to some wine.”

  Maelstrom snorted and stomped off back towards her team, and I shifted my attention back to the match. It was a boring affair with the Diamondsouls entrenching themselves and the few wandering saurians and humans falling into their traps from time to time, often perishing, but sometimes destroying the web and getting the spider.

  Hours passed before the final challenger left.

  “And the winner of the third event is Dandelion Blackfist! Is this getting boring or what?” The anchorman said with a chuckle, and the crowd in the stadium applauded and cheered.

  The atmosphere with those present in the competitors’ area was substantially different, and the only one who approached to congratulate me was Newstar.

  “You’re breaking all sorts of records,” he said with a strained laugh. “My group’s escort told me I don’t have time for the celebrations tonight. We’re not really busy; I think they want to distance themselves from you. They said you would be stepping on too many toes if you won the third event as well, but I know you can manage anything.”

  “Thanks. I hope you’re not getting into trouble for talking to me.”

  “Nah, don’t worry.”

  With that, Newt left, my thoughts the only ones keeping me company. Perhaps I had performed too well, and this was a redo. The thought didn’t terrify me on an instinctual level. In fact, I could have gone through with it, if not for one thing. It would have given the outer gods and their cults valuable new information. Something I had no intention of doing.

  I should warn Newstar and Maelstrom to lie low, just in case.

  On the other hand, do I really need to do that? They already have mentors, ancestors, and whatnot watching out for them.

  After a bit of back and forth with myself, I decided it would put my mind at ease.

  I was alone in the crowded street, and it sucked. Not because I needed friends or company, but because it meant I really had failed. I went over to the tavern, paid the day’s bill even though I only took a single cup of wine, then canceled the next reservation, since nobody would come drink with me anyway.

  With everything in order, I went to sculpt my realm for two days.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Day 6471, 10:00 AM

  “Welcome to the rise to power.” The realm ghost said. She sounded like a young, slightly unhinged woman. “My challenge is simple. You climb. The farther you reach, the better your placement. Should you be a part of a group, your group’s average result shall be calculated for your final result.”

  Again, something I’m going to dominate.

  I looked around and saw quite a few people wearing the colors of royal and ducal houses glaring death at me.

  “Like in any real rise to power, climbing shall come with pressure — the further you climb, the greater the pressure. But you need not face it alone. Each cliff is three hundred yards tall, a trivial distance for a mageknight to climb. Those climbing the same cliff shall share its pressure. Being the first comes with greater pressure, but should you start climbing a cliff and reach the top first, your entire team shall gain ten yards per person to the height they had climbed, up to seventy in total. Like in life, being left behind comes with its own pressure and inevitable downfall. And know that the slowest few on each cliff shall fall. How many shall depend on their strength and tenacity.”

  The woman’s voice changed, the thinly veiled mania rising up to the surface.

  “A solitary endurance challenge without interaction would be boring; so, while your mana shall be locked away while you climb, everyone is free to use it to eliminate anyone else on the ledges, with a caveat. Should you eliminate someone, your whole team shall carry the burden. Quite literally. The vanquished person’s spiritual weight shall be added to each cliff’s burden the vanquisher’s team faces.

  “As for the climb itself, it shall be traitorous. Traps litter the field, and the unwary shall find themselves crippled before they finish the first cliff. Like traps, boons are also concealed in hazardous portions of the cliff; these shall appear from the tenth cliff onwards. The hazards I have mentioned may be traps in and of themselves, traps of your greed, or perhaps boons already looted by those ahead. Either way, know that your risk might go unrewarded.”

  She paused again, and I was expecting a mad cackle, but nothing of the sort happened. In fact, she sounded overjoyed.

  “I wish you ill fortune, for those who wish to climb by relying on something as fickle as luck deserve to die. I do, however, wish you a sharp wit, a measure of confidence, and the ability to judge both yourself and those around you. Fare well and rise high.”

  Then, everyone attacked me. I cracked the first skull on instinct, hardly considering it, but all the noble scions and their retainers in the area converged on me while shouting, “He’s here!”

  Blades, axes, spears, maces, chains, they came at me with a wide variety of weapons. I dodged, and phantom pain flashed in my flank. I spun, a spear whistling by me, and I landed Batsy III on the attacker’s neck.

  She disappeared, but dozens of others were running towards us. I noticed some people running away, towards the cliff, so as not to get involved. A sensible thing to do, really.

  What am I doing? I wondered while cracking another skull. That was the seventh.

  What was I expecting? Crack! The imperials must have been laughing their asses off when an unaffiliated mageknight mopped the floor with the royals.

  An ax swept half an inch from my neck, and my fist shattered the man’s windpipe, eliminating him from the challenge. There was a wall of them, and they formed a circle, three or four attacking me at once.

  They are definitely going to kill me once I leave Sage’s City. Should I just kill myself and make it safe?

  While my mind was busy with thoughts of the future, my body moved on its own, ending each attacker with one blow of staff or fist.

  “This isn’t working. Pile on him, and we’ll stab him to death!”

  Finally, someone who can think clearly.

  I spun as fast as I could, but they were fast too. One person tackled me from behind, and my sweep faltered, letting others climb on top of me, and a series of blades bit into my back.

  The next moment, I was back at the stadium.

  “Aaand that’s how Dandelion Blackfist drops from first place all the way down to…” the anchorman seemed confused, but his colleague came to his aid.

  “One hundred thirty-seventh place, assuming nothing unexpected—”

  I watched the projection as every last one of royal and ducal family climbers fell off the wall at the exact same time. They tried to climb again, but the moment they touched the wall, they just fell back down.

  The announcers were quiet, and the only sounds from the audience were those of confusion. I could see Maelstrom struggle to grab the wall, then just fall right back, and she wasn’t the only one.

  “I think there’s a problem with the trial,” the man said.

  “That shouldn’t be it. This is the ‘No Luck Challenge,’ and it’s the third time it’s come up. There were no problems the two times it had happened before.”

  They are supposed to carry my spiritual weight.

  “If the royal families and the ducal houses don’t reach the second cliff, all of them will be behind Dandelion, and out of the top one hundred. That’s never happened before.”

  A mirthless smirk escaped me. I guess a demigod’s spiritual weight is nothing to scoff at.

  I’m so dead.