Phatagin, along with every other creature still in the arena, suddenly froze in place. Aspar’agus, the event’s overseer, descended from his vantage point high above the arena. Sirius, although distracted by her injuries and the booming voice of the strange but supremely powerful being, didn’t fail to notice that the mortally wounded sword-wielding twin had finally expired, thus leaving only five teams standing.
“CONGRATULATIONS TO THOSE STILL STANDING! YOU HAVE SURVIVED THE FIRST EVENT OF THE SYSTEMIC GAMES. REJOICE, OR NOT, I DO NOT CARE. BUT KNOW THIS, THOSE THAT REMAIN ARE AMONG THE TOP ONE PERCENT OF ALL COMPETITORS SUMMONED TO PLAY. THE NEXT EVENT WILL NOT BE SO EASY. NOW, WHERE I DID PUT THAT…AH YES, HERE WE ARE. WELL, OFF YOU GO. THERE WILL BE A MANDATORY REST PERIOD OF 6.3341 HOURS BEFORE YOU MAY DEPART THE DORMITORIES. USE THIS TIME TO REST YOUR BODIES AND RECOVER YOUR COURAGE. WE MAY MEET AGAIN LATER, IF YOU ARE LUCKY. NOW, WHERE DID I PUT THAT ROOSTER…”
The world spun sickeningly as a thick blanket of darkness pressed down on the canine. Thankfully, the sensation lasted only for an instant. Bright white light filled her vision, resolving quickly into a strange room that seemed to be the Party’s dormitory. The needs of each creature appeared to have been anticipated, at least when it came to sleeping.
There was a human bed covered by a blanket depicting strangely-horned horses cavorting in a green meadow beneath an enormous rainbow. Fluffy pink pillows were clumped at one end of the bed, guarded by a small army of stuffed creatures. Sirius recognized some of the animals depicted as coming from Earth, but others were clearly of extraterrestrial origin. Ndiogou took one look at his bed, shook his head, and then walked to a door with a sign over it covered in strange symbols, with the first depicting circles falling from a triangle. The sound of running water emerged shortly after, clearing up the mystery of what the symbol meant.
For the pangolin, there was a section of the room that appeared to have been unfinished. The floor transitioned from a white, spongy tile to packed dirt. A thick tree trunk emerged from the dirt floor and disappeared into the ceiling, sporting a clean, dry hollow space with an entrance just large enough for Phatagin to squeeze through. The pangolin did exactly that, seemingly asleep before he had finished curling up.
The opposite quarter of the room was more appealing to the canine. Not only did it have plush carpeting, there was a perfectly sized dog bed topped with a thick but soft-looking fabric, clearly meant for Sirius herself. Feeling a bit worn out by everything that had happened that day, she padded over to her bed and, after turning around three times, plopped down. She sank just enough into the foam pad to relieve the mild ache in her joints that walking on overly hard surfaces always caused, sighing in relief as the accumulated tension drained away. Then she nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise as she noticed the presence of another being in the room. After recovering, she sighed once again: it was just Charlemagne.
The rooster’s quarter of the dormitory was to Sirius’ right. It was the most sparsely furnished of the room’s different sections, with a simple wooden plank strung between rough concrete blocks. The enormous bird was wearing a scowl that was even more concerning than usual: he clearly had not enjoyed being put in “time out” during the event.
“What’s the matter?” Sirius asked the rooster from her bed. “Didn’t you get some good stuff from the System for completing round one?”
“Bawk,” the rooster responded, his mood foul and his language salty.
“Whatever,” the canine growled. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to enjoy this enforced rest cycle…maybe we can all grab food after and then work on the Team Battle Simulation again.”
Charlemagne stood on his perch, his claws gripping so tightly that the board would have shattered if it had been made of ordinary wood. He was in a terrible mood. First he had missed out on some of the battle after his completely reasonable decision to attack the event’s Overseer. Then that same Overseer had the gall to take away some of his rightful winnings from the event. And now, to add insult to injury, how did they expect him to sleep when there was still so much light?
Time slowly passed as the rooster roosted, too annoyed to even review the messages that the Squiggles had sent him. Ndiogou finished whatever sort of weird thing he was doing with the running water in the other room and reemerged. He flung himself onto his bedding with a long and satisfied sigh before rolling over and putting his hands behind his head.
“That was a really weird day,” he said finally. No one responded.
“Come on, let’s debrief as a Party,” the human urged.
Sirius raised her head, looked at Ndiogou, and growled menacingly. Charlemagne’s opinion of the canine rose.
“Fine, get some rest and we’ll regroup after the enforced rest period is over. Maybe if someone doesn’t run off again, we can make some significant progress.”
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With that, the human rolled over and pulled one of the large, pink, fluffy head cushions over his eyes and lay still. A profound silence settled over the room. It was different than the stillness of night on Earth: there were no machines buzzing the background, no insects buzzing around, no sound of the ocean waves as they steadily beat upon the shore. In short, it was the most peace and quiet that Charlemagne had ever experienced.
In the silence, Charlemagne sat…and brooded. Unable to sleep, and unwilling to talk to the Squiggles, there was little to do beyond sitting and thinking. So, he sat and thought.
A lot.
Something in the back of his mind had been bothering him for a while. Back when the Party had only consisted of himself, Bridget, and Phatagin, the other two members had been curious about why Charlemagne had few skills. At the time, it had made him feel…bad, like the rooster was somehow missing something. His bird brain had been grappling with the question somewhere deep in his subconscious, and the quiet period of rest had finally allowed the thought to resurface. Was he in some way inferior to the mosquito Champion?
Currently, the answer was clearly, “no”, since she was dead and he wasn’t. He was free to continue doing what he did best: mating, eating, and, of course, fighting. In addition to that, his current Party members were all clearly weaker than he was, and the gap appeared to be growing wider with each Achievement, each Skill evolution, and each level. None of the Party had a Class that was as advanced as his was, and, upon reaching level 50, he would likely be offered something that would put the others to shame. He could already feel the raw power from the level-ups that he’d gained during the mass battle, propelling his power to new heights. Perhaps even Ehuud the master of ice magic would no longer be able to quench the fire inside of his breast.
Speaking of his Ember Core, the rooster spent some time focusing on just how special it was. Many different Skills were encapsulated inside of it, not the least of which were Pyro and Radiation Manipulation. Both of these skills dealt with different energy types, allowing the rooster to incorporate both fire and the deadly invisible energy known as radiation into his mana attacks. Perhaps, the rooster realized, the reason that some of his other Skill acquisitions had lagged behind was because the majority of his combat ability had always come from his Mana Core and its upgrade, Ember Core. Maybe he didn’t need as many support Skills because his Core was so versatile.
If that were true, then he should be able to continue evolving his Core by incorporating new concepts. Understanding Pyro, the power of fire, had given him the push needed to create an Ember Core. What if he absorbed more metal that gave off radiation? Would that eventually give him an upgrade option that allowed him to generate his own radiation and then convert it to mana? And would that be the strongest option for him? And what about his newest mana-related Skill, Ember Shield? What if he merged that with his Ember Core? Would that give him an upgrade?
The rooster considered that idea for a moment before dismissing the idea. Both of them had the word “Ember” in them. At best, he might get a level for Ember Core, but that wasn’t a sure thing. His Core was his highest level skill by a wide margin, and in his experience it would take more and more effort to increase it. Whatever he needed to push his Ember Core to the next level, it would be something that was related to the concept of mana or fire in some way, but it would also be something different. Different enough that it would add something to the mix that his current energies lacked.
Charlemagne had come a long way from the simple rooster tied to a Sanya motorbike, but he was still in many ways a simple creature of desires. Deep channels had been carved into his neural pathways while he was still young, influencing not only his outlook on life but the relative effectiveness of the brain cells at his disposal. Long story short, the rooster was still incredibly dumb for a being that was growing so smart. He would need to learn to apply his intellect before it could do any good. Most sapient beings used periods of rest or repose to cogitate, but the rooster rarely took breaks that did not involve his three main goals in life. And, although he dreamed, his dreams remained very much grounded in ordinary chicken concerns: foraging and pecking, social interactions within his neighborhood, predator avoidance, and favorite roosts.
Thus, as Charlemagne sat and pondered in the enforced rest period, he employed the full force of his expanded intellect in a prolonged manner for the first time ever. And the System took notice.
The rooster had no idea what the Skill did, and he was too angry with the Squiggles to ask, but he was pleased with himself. It felt as if he had proven his fears wrong: he could gain new Skills just as easily as anyone else. And, he didn’t need to worry so much about evolving his Ember Core Skill. That would come in time, just as all rewards did. Eventually, he would be returned to his farm, more powerful than ever before, and continue his simple life of making babies and eating corn.
While the rooster dreamed of his hens, he worked on his Ember Shield Skill a bit, running some tests to see what aspects could be adjusted. Having finally mastered turning the Shield off and on, he had taken to increasing or decreasing the thickness of the strange-behaving barrier that now formed the outermost layer of his defenses. He hadn’t received any Skill levels for his experimentation, but it was nice to know that he could alter it to suit his needs.
Charlemagne was about to move on to another round of experimentation when the lights suddenly went completely out. His chicken brain quickly responded to the intense darkness by shutting itself off almost completely within two minutes, allowing him to drop into a deep and restful sleep. He fought bravely during that time frame, but ultimately lost the war. But not before winning a small victory.
