by Jakob Tanner
“Or, perhaps it’s a precaution,” said Blake. “To stop us from thwarting any of their plans higher up in the tower, like at the United Floors Alliance Tournament.”
“Or, it’s not even The Fallen Angels work at all,” said Harold.
They all turned to look at the old man now.
What the heck did that even mean?
“Care to explain yourself gramps?” asked Casey.
“It’s quite possible that this was The Fallen Angels, but we can’t take that as a given. It could be someone wanting to make it look like The Fallen Angels.”
“Who else would attack us?” said Blake.
“It could’ve been a rival team in the tournament. They wanted to take us out before we even got there.”
“That’s not very sportsmanlike,” said Casey.
“The stakes are too high for sportsmanship,” said Harold. “Whole economies and powerful floors rely on good showings at these games. Powerful people will go far to make sure they have their desired outcome.”
Everyone grew silent for a moment.
This tournament felt like a pressure cooker of chaos and animosity. Max had always thought the United Floors Alliance was meant to protect and make them all stronger. It felt more like an institution full of backstabbing and double-crossing.
Harold spoke about it with such ire in his voice, Max couldn’t stop wondering why.
What happened the last time humanity had attended these games?
“And let’s not forget,” said Blake, whose words interrupted Max’s thoughts. “We still have to climb more than a dozen floors in just over a week’s time or we’re disqualified from the games. These mercenaries may have succeeded at their job after all.”
Harold began to walk away from the group.
After a few minutes, he stopped and turned back to the rest of the squad.
“C’mon,” he said. “We don’t have any more time to waste.”
Three days later, Hermia found herself in a similar position in Regulus’ office, delivering news the man didn’t want to hear.
Regulus’ forehead was red and he had a noticeable vein stretched across his neck.
“Still no word from the humans?”
Did her boss really think she wouldn’t have told him if they had arrived?
Hermia shook her head.
“Other organizers are beginning to complain,” said Regulus. “People are saying humanity is getting unfair treatment.”
“Let them complain,” said Hermia. “They’d complain no matter what we did and so far we haven’t broken any official rule.”
“And yet,” said Regulus. “Humanity disrespects us by breaking the unofficial rules; like getting here a few weeks early. They’ve completely sabotaged preliminary festivities, auctions, and markets.”
“Well, if our relations with them were a bit more cordial,” said Hermia, “maybe we would’ve been able to pass this information on to—”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Regulus, waving his hand in the air. “We’re to blame. The Big Bad Caesarians. Honestly, we should just disqualify the human team right now. The opening ceremonies are set to begin in four more days.
“Rules are rules,” said Hermia. “I don’t think Sabriel will be pleased to know we were breaking the tournament regulations, do you?”
Regulus bristled at that.
He hated when she brought up Sabriel.
One of the few people with significantly more power than him.
“Have it your way, Hermia,” hissed Regulus. “We will wait until the allotted time is up, but if that happens and they’re still not here, I refuse to make any exceptions.”
Hermia smiled and nodded.
That’s all I could help with, little humans, she thought to herself. I hope the allotted time will be enough.
Floor-21 wins the gold medal in terms of weirdness, Max thought to himself.
The floor was a giant garden with talking plants that tried to trick you. It was a surprising change of circumstances after floor-20—a misty floor occupied by colossal giants whose gigantic feet were all that could be seen through the fog.
“I’m tired,” groaned Casey. “And Toto has eaten through all my snacks.”
They were all exhausted. Harold had been pushing them from one floor to the next, hardly stopping for a break.
Any of the breaks they did take, were short and unsatisfying, just enough time to recharge a little, before continuing forward.
“No time for any more breaks,” said Harold. “We must keep moving.”
They had nine more floors to climb and only three days to do so.
Three days later, less than an hour before the opening ceremonies of the games, Regulus was pacing the head office of the coliseum.
Hermia watched him with unease. He only paced his office when he was extra pissed off.
“This was the situation I was trying to avoid, Hermia,” said Regulus. “The other teams are waiting to begin the opening ceremonies. Others have paid tickets to watch. The humans have made us look like fools.”
Hermia felt tense all over. She’d stood up for the human team. She really didn’t wanted to go out on a limb for them, for nothing.
“Do I have your permission to disqualify them now?” said Regulus.
“They still have a few minutes,” said Hermia, eyeing a clock in the office.
“And yet, the opening ceremonies are about to begin,” said Regulus. “Let me deregister them. I doubt they’re even coming.”
Hermia gulped.
She was out of arguments.
It looks like Regulus was going to have his way.
“Let us greet the teams below,” said Regulus.
She followed her superior out of the office and down into the coliseum.
The crowds in the stands began to cheer as Regulus and Hermia walked out into the middle of the giant arena.
Hermia was amazed at all the different people who had showed up.
The stands were filled with Caesarians, Elestrians, Boldrin, and all the other races who would be competing in this year’s games and more. She thought she recognized some of the higher floor tower races as well.
Incredible, thought Hermia.
The tournament was so popular that people would pay to watch these opening ceremonies, just to get an up-close sight of the tournament’s contestants.
At the center of the arena was a large stage that had been erected for this very opening ceremony.
Regulus stepped up to the podium and began to speak into the microphone.
“Welcome everyone to the United Floors Alliance Tournament!”
The arena erupted with applause.
Hermia looked around, uneasily.
Regulus was beginning the ceremony a few minutes early.
Is it possible the human team still might have a chance to make it?
“Let us introduce this year’s competing teams!” shouted Regulus. “They’re purple-eyed and fierce, everyone say welcome to the Elestrians!”
From one end of the arena, the five person squad that made up Team Elestria, stepped out into the spotlight.
Hermia watched the clock.
Three more minutes.
Regulus continued introducing the teams one by one.
“All the way from floor-15, let us welcome Team Boldrin!”
From another corner of the arena, Team Boldrin stepped out.
The list of teams was growing smaller. The Caesarians as the home team were always announced last.
Hermia’s heart raced as Regulus kept calling out teams.
The cat-folk.
The Flaron.
Then, there were this year’s two new teams who had never competed in the tournament before.
The mercenary collective.
And the frog-folk.
Finally, it came for the last team to be called.
“And last, but not least,” shouted Regulus. “A big round of applause for Team Caesaria!”
The crowd scream
ed with excitement as the Caesarian team stepped out into their portion of the arena.
Right as the applause began to die down, Regulus continued. “And that’s it, folks! Please, one last applause to welcome all the competing teams for this decade’s United Floors Alliance Tourna—”
BOOM!
Regulus paused and the whole arena fell silent.
What was that sound, Hermia wondered. It couldn’t be the gates of the arena opening and closing shut, could it?
Emerging from the front entrance and into the center of the arena was a new group of contestants.
Five humans.
They looked rough, ragged, and out of breath.
Regulus’ face went red with complete and utter frustration.
Hermia smiled to her boss and said, “Looks like Team Zestiris has finally arrived.”
20
Max felt his heart thump against his chest as he and the rest of the team walked towards the center of the grandiose arena.
The all-consuming silence of the audience began to break slowly into whispers and murmurs, full of shocked and confused sentiment.
“It looks as if someone wasn’t expecting us to show up on time,” said Blake.
“Or at all,” added Harold.
Max barely listened to the chatter of his own team, he was so overwhelmed by everything around him.
First, there was the magnificent grandiosity of the arena itself.
Then, there were the two announcers at the center of it. They looked almost human—much like Elestrians looked almost human—but there were a few giveaways that they were something else entirely.
Both the announcers had bright yellow—almost golden—colored eyes and they both had tiny horns on either side of their foreheads.
Like little devils.
He glanced to the other teams and quickly found a group of five that all shared this same characteristic.
These must be the Caesarians then.
He gulped as he took in the other teams. He recognized the Elestrians, the Boldrin, and—pleasantly surprised—he saw the frog-folk had come with a team to duke it out in the tournament as well.
Then there were the tower races he didn’t recognize, though Blake quickly whispered in his ear to let him know who was who.
There was a team of half-giants, known as the Flaron.
There was a team of humanoid cat-species with whiskers, furry ears, and tails known simply as the cat-folk.
Then, finally, there was one team that looked composed of multiple races.
Who were they?
Max’s thoughts were cut short by the sharp feedback sound of someone turning on their microphone.
“Excuse me kind members of the audience,” said the male Caesarian announcer, his voice echoing across the arena. “We have had an unexpected development. We will continue the opening ceremonies in ten minutes. Please take this time to pick up refreshments from any of our helper drones.”
The male Caesarian announcer turned off his mic and stomped towards Max and his team, glaring at them with a fury.
“I’m sorry but you’ve failed to meet the qualifications of the tournament. You can try again at the next United Floors Alliance tournament to be held in ten years time. Now, please, you must leave at once.”
Hermia rushed behind Regulus.
The man strode towards the human team with a fury.
Their eyes bulged with disbelief at the man’s words of their disqualifications from the tournament.
None of the humans protested Regulus’ words.
They were still haggard and out of breath from their journey to floor-30 that this must have felt like the final blow that they had no idea how to dodge or escape.
Hermia felt a deep pang of sympathy for them.
She had to do something. Regulus wasn’t thinking straight. His anger and frustration was blinding him. She had to convince him to undo his hasty decision.
“Regulus,” hissed Hermia behind the man.
“Not now, Hermia,” said the man, gritting his teeth.
The energy of the audience around them was growing restless as they chattered amongst themselves.
The sight of it all was making Regulus even more red in the face.
“I know you’re frustrated that the event has been interrupted,” said Hermia.
“Yeah, because of these tardy despicable huma—”
“But, just think for a second, Regulus,” said Hermia. “The crowd will be more disappointed if a new team of contestants walks out of here that are not going to compete. They will not be happy.”
Regulus grunted in reply to Hermia’s point.
“Also, this year’s games has more new teams than we expected. Team Zestiris will give us an even eight, which will make for a more satisfying semi-final round.”
Regulus’ muscles twitched but seemed to be calming down.
Hermia’s words were getting through to him.
“Pah,” he finally said. “Okay, you’re in humans, but I don’t want to see or hear any more breaking of the rules for the rest of the tournament.”
Regulus then strode back towards the podium to continue with the ceremonies.
As Hermia turned to follow after her superior, she saw one of the human climbers catch her eye.
It was one of the younger ones.
A red-haired boy.
He mouthed two words to her before she returned to the podium.
The words were so different from the average brutal bloodthirsty contestant in these games that she felt a chill run through her, and her thoughts said to her: this year’s games are going to be different.
Very different indeed.
The two words the young man had mouthed to her were such a simple gesture. Such a nod to polite behavior. Something that got lost the further up the tower you went.
Those two words were, “Thank you.”
“Sorry for the delay,” the Caesarian man’s voice boomed throughout the arena.
Mirabel, the C-ranked climber on the cat-folk team, crossed her arms, barely listening to the Caesarian announcer prattle on.
She stared at the newly arrived human team.
These humans are much more interesting than listening to that pitiful creature list the rules and regulations of the tournament, Mirabel thought to herself.
She couldn’t help but notice a strange oddity to the human team of climbers as she looked at each of their badges signifying their rank.
They had two D-rankers but no C-ranker.
“I see you’ve noticed the oddity on the human team,” said her fellow cat-folk team member, Gregoire.
“They don’t have a C-ranker,” she whispered.
“They must be planning to train one of them up before the first match in a month’s time,” said Gregoire. “My money is on the red-haired boy. I’ve heard of him. He took down The Gambler a few months back.”
Mirabel shivered.
The Gambler was a notorious rogue climber who had worked for The Fallen Angels.
Had that kid really been savvy enough to take down such a powerhouse?
“That’s impressive,” Mirabel replied. “Even still, the boy only has a month to go up an entire rank. It seems quite careless of the human team.”
“Oh, I agree,” said Gregoire. “A careless decision indeed.”
A huge grin formed on Mirabel’s face.
“Such a tactical error,” said Mirabel, “cannot go unexploited. I hope you concur, Gregoire?”
“Oh, I concur,” grinned Mirabel’s companion as the two of them stared with menacing eyes at the red-haired climber of the human team.
The two cat-folk didn’t break their focus even as the crowd began to scream and cheer around them as the announcer’s words reverberated across the arena, “Let the United Floors Alliance Tournament officially begin!!!”
21
After the tournament’s opening ceremonies, Max and the rest of the human team stumbled back to the human climber’s guild outpost where the
y had an exclusive floor waiting specifically for them.
Max’s whole body ached. He was ready to collapse onto a bed and fall asleep.
“Bleurgh,” moaned Casey. “I need sleep. Toto too.”
Rushing through the final few floors had been an exhausting ordeal. Max had been just as surprised as the Caesarians that they had made it to the tournament on time.
They had all earned a well-deserved rest.
Which made it all the more frustratingly agonizing when Harold said, “Everyone to the common room. Important team meeting. Now.”
A collective groan could be heard across the team. Even Toto crossed his arms and was making strange muttering sounds in the direction of the old human A-ranker.
In the end, they all gathered in the common room.
“Can’t this wait until morning?” Casey moaned as she slumped into one of the couches.
“No,” said Harold, his face growing serious. “It’s time I told you all about what happened twenty years ago, about the events that took place the last time humanity attended this tournament.”
Twenty years ago, on the eve of the United Floors Alliance Tournament’s semi-final match, Harold sat with the rest of his team in the climber’s guild outpost, making last-minute preparations for the upcoming challenge.
He sat with the rest of the human climbers who had been assigned to compete in the United Floors Alliance tournament.
“Remember everyone,” said the team’s A-ranker and leader, Travis. “Tomorrow is just a stepping stone to the finals. At the end of all of this we’re going to show the rest of the tower what humanity is made of.”
They were captivating and motivating words.
The rest of the team was clearly fired up by the A-ranker’s speech.
Harold could take it or leave it, though, of course he kept that to himself.
Travis was his best friend. He had grown used to the man’s impassioned speeches of being the best climber you could be.