Peeling potatoes was tedious but part of my daily rhythm. I’d zoned out, trying not to think about the day before and thinking about it anyway, when my inventory flashed. I jumped to open it. Instead of seeing [Something Special] glowing like I’d hoped, my arena token glared an angry red. I willed it to my hand. It sat there, an ominous glow spilling from my palm.

  I shot a look up. Alga scowled at me, well aware of my ‘magical’ contraband habits. I curled my fingers around it and checked the table where two orcs sat eating. Did they notice? I shifted it back into inventory, just in case. I went back to peeling potatoes, the scent of thick stew warm in my nose. The homey scent couldn’t quiet the rising edge of fear.

  I reached out through the party chat.

  “Guys?”

  Akilah: “Frag’s gone. The Arena took them.”

  “Fuck.”

  Akilah: “I’m not sitting around this time, Dath. I can’t do it. We’ve got to find a way to get to them.”

  Alga watched me, arms folded over her chest.

  “I see that look in your eye, Zotan’Dajal. Go,” she said, flicking a hand like she was swiping at a fly.

  That brought a sudden grin, despite the stress. Zotan—Warrior. I’d returned with new scars, and she noticed. Of course she did. She didn’t miss much. I was still an adolescent warrior to her, but that was fair. At least I wasn’t rau anymore. No longer a child in her eyes.

  “Meet me at the Labyrinth.”

  When I reached the Labyrinth, it was in record time. I already pictured where the others were and what they were up against. Party status showed no damage yet by the time I’d jogged into the Labyrinth’s towering walls. I didn’t wait for Akilah. She was further out. Instead, I strode right up to the first minotaur I saw and asked, “Is there a way to watch arena fights?”

  The massive bovine had been perusing a street vendor’s blanket display of used weapons. He and the scrawny kobold vendor faced me. The minotaur snorted derisively. The kobold, however, put its clawed fingers together and tapped them thoughtfully. Its head bobbed in affirmative.

  Party status changed. Frag’s HP dropped by 5 points.

  I bared my teeth at the kobold, a rumble in my chest threatening to escape.

  “I’ll pay you to tell me how. Lie to me, and I’ll make sure you never lie to anyone again,” I promised, fists tight enough that my green knuckles turned white.

  The kobold panted and nodded happily, unfazed by my aggression. It might’ve felt different if it saw the vivid image I had in my head of tearing its tongue out. I pulled out a handful of quartz chips, held them out, and gestured.

  “Shhhhiftss kak, ukie…” It said, clicking and grunting in a rapid stream.

  Was it playing with me right now? It clearly understood me. Bristling, I bared my teeth at it. The little beast cringed.

  “Fuck my life—I don’t speak Kobold,” I snarled, switching to my other language. “Ork!”

  The kobold nodded, scaled hands folding. Its accent was terrible, but I could understand it. I paid it and walked away. I started in the direction it mentioned but stopped. The entrance loomed behind me, stern stone and shadow. I had to wait for Akilah. I wasn’t going to make her walk through this place alone.

  She arrived by centaur and looked none too pleased. Her purple robes flapped around her legs as she clung to his shoulders, teeth gritted, bouncing as he trotted into the district. Her ride offered her an arm. She swung down and landed in a mostly graceful stumble. Akilah tossed him a few gems and stormed toward me, a purple whirlwind of purpose.

  “Did you find out?”

  “I think so,” I said briskly, grabbing her hand as I broke into a fast stride. She jogged behind me. Jake just took a hit. His HP status dipped ten points.

  We pushed through crowds, past fights and festivals, heading for one of the countless nondescript doorways tucked into the thick maze walls. Just inside, a minotaur sat on the ledge of a half-wall. The dimness beyond was near impenetrable, at least until I could get away from the sunlight angling down the street.

  I pulled to a stop before the bouncer. “How much to watch?”

  “Two diamonds.” He glanced between us and, with a smug flick of his ear, added, “Each.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Akilah swatted me silent. She summoned four diamonds of standard size into her palm. The minotaur tipped its horns toward the walkway beyond the entrance and took the money. “Any room. Two hours. You can watch any battleground you want.”

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  “I want the one with the Outliers,” Akilah snapped.

  The Minotaur nodded, small, wide-set eyes flicking, as if accessing something. A door fell open in the dim hallway.

  She went into the dark without hesitation, each step sharp with purpose. I fell in behind her. Once the light faded, my vision adjusted. Rows of doors lined the walls, most of them shut. Light spilled from the door that just opened, making my darkvision pulse and distort. Akilah headed for it.

  It was like a luxury skybox—if you stripped away the luxury. Instead of looking at a dome or astroturf, a colosseum arena view dominated one wall. Empty benches lined the floor, but I ignored them, going straight to the panorama and slamming up against the glass.

  Only it wasn’t glass. It was smoother. Colder. Harder than steel. I slammed my knuckles into it anyway, but the pain couldn’t edge out my anger. My fucking helplessness.

  Akilah grabbed my shirt and tugged me back. I let her.

  I glanced over the field. No monster this time, just a bloodbath to the death. The rules were obvious. With no markers to hold or capture, the game was just a skirmish to wipe out the other team. Stone ramps, blinds, and pits scattered the terrain. A narrow water hazard rippled through the center. No one had crossed it yet. They were just taking shots at each other from across the little stream.

  Each team had a sniper platform. Ours looked like a bastard to climb, but Elora had already claimed ours. I folded my arms, gaze snapping from our team to the other. A frustrated growl from Akilah drew my attention back to her. Her eyes were flicking rapidly, not focused on the big screen, but somewhere else.

  “Got it,” she whispered. A bank of screens on either side of the viewing wall popped up, showing close-ups of each fighter and a stripped-down version of their HUD status. “I found the controls for the screen.”

  “Can we get in there?” I asked, even knowing the likely answer.

  "No, I haven't found anything yet," she sighed, her gaze still jogging.

  I fixed my attention on the multiple displays. I hated watching instead of fighting. Like rubbernecking at a car wreck, but worse. It involved people you knew.

  Akilah lowered herself to the bench nearest the viewscreen. I stood beside her, watching a dark elf cast traps beside barriers near the stream. I pinged party chat.

  Look out for the traps.

  “Dath,” Akilah murmured. “They can’t see it. They can’t hear. It’s just us. We’re locked out.”

  “Fucking bullshit,” I mumbled.

  Elora shifted on her perch, bow aimed at the opposing archer scrambling up the opposite platform. The drow popped up from cover, firing a crossbow at her. Elora flinched back and flattened to the stone.

  Frag side-stepped, trading fire across the stream, covering Jake as he darted to Elora’s pillar. Fig crouched beside one of the low walls, her tambourine shaking, right hand clutching her pistol. I could see her lips moving, but I couldn’t hear the song. Her HUD screen signaled [Vocal Aura: Disrupt].

  Two opponents leapt the stream, a wiry monk in robes and the other a centaur the likes of which I’d never seen before, bigger than a draft horse. The human half? Massive. John Cena would be embarrassed. Samson Dauda would nod with approval.

  They hit Fig’s Aura mid-air. The big centaur’s hind legs slipped on the ledge, and dropping him half in the stream. He flailed, swinging what looked more like a giant cleaver than a sword. The monk paid him no mind, flickering forward on bare, ink-dark feet, pale robe hems scrolling some kind of gold holographic runes.

  “That one’s twinked! Look at that gear!” I barked, jabbing a finger at the close-up, as if shouting could change it. I couldn’t help it. Every response felt uncontrolled and visceral. The monk had the same starting HP as me, 100. Somehow that didn’t seem fair. That Monk’s Dodge was probably better than mine, too.

  I wished I was there, not for the first time, but for a wholly different reason. The idea of fighting that monk, pitting their skills against my own…

  My fists dropped uselessly. Flicking between the screens, I watched strategies unfold. Elora loosed a shot at the sneaky drow. [Hit: -10 Arc Arrow] Frag aimed for the hunter. Jake shot at the monk, who danced around his bolts like they were leaves floating on a gentle breeze instead of deadly plasma. One bolt past close enough to flutter the monk's hood, revealing a distended mouth full of shark teeth.

  “Demon,” Akilah’s whisper confirmed my guess. Plasma did less to them; heat-resistant demon skin made them a bitch to shoot down.

  “Elora, shoot the demon!” I shouted at the screen, then grumbled at myself. They couldn’t hear.

  I stalked the back wall like a caged tiger, fists clenched. Elora kept aiming at the enemy archer, who’d abandoned the opposing platform to find a blind near the water hazard with some cover. The monk disappeared. I squinted, searching the field as the demon’s HUD blacked out for a few seconds.

  The monk reappeared—beside Jake. Akilah hugged herself. A rumbling growl rattled my chest as I stalked faster, fists clamping. Turn around, Jake. Turn around!

  The dirty demon snapped a palm into the back of his head, smashing Jake’s face into our sniper platform. Stone cracked around him. [Hit: -5 Qi Impact -4] Frag swung around to fire, but it vanished again.

  A flutter of black caught my eye—the drow. He’d skirted the shaded wall and crossed the stream in shadow. He crept closer to Fig, staying outside her line of sight. The rumbling growl in my chest deepened. My lips peeled back in a snarl, but there was nowhere to put the rage. No action. No release. My nostrils flared, seeking the scent of blood that could only be seen.

  “Come on, Frag!” Where the hell were his group push Instinct alerts?

  The centaur hauled itself out of the stream and charged. Frag pivoted, rifle up, just as the brute flung its giant sword. Frag dodged out of the way, only to be struck by an arrow. His shoulder rocked, but his expression didn’t flinch. [Hit: -5 Ticking Threat 2s] flashed across his HUD. Frag ripped the arrow out and flung it in the centaur’s path.

  Akilah gasped. I looked at her for the first time in what felt like minutes, hearing the exploding arrow but missing the centaur’s reaction. Angry tears glistened in her eyes. I stopped pacing like a caged beast, threw myself down to sit beside her, and grabbed her shoulders. I made her look at me.

  “They’ll be alright,” I rumbled. “It’s just a game.”

  She nodded, but we both knew it wasn’t just a game. It was a choice. One we all decided on, and we had to ride it. All the way.

  “It’s just…” She flapped a hand toward the view screen. She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. I knew what she meant.

  I nodded and let go. She grabbed my hand, squeezed it, and held it tightly. We’d get through this. Somehow.

  Fig looked at the drow and smiled. Smiled? Her HUD readout flashed [Charm Aura: Lure]. She flicked her tambourine and said, “Well, hello, handsome.”

  It was cheesy and basic, but effective. The dark elf hesitated just long enough for her to whip her pistol around and shoot him. The drow vanished again into shadow. [Shadowstep]

  Frag started running, for no apparent reason, until I read his HUD display.

  [Tactical Instinct Alert: Environment/Terrain Alteration]

  What?

  -ARCHIVE-