We were suddenly back in the waiting room.

  Noah blinked rapidly, still on his stomach, but without a Chomper in his arms.

  “Did I… Did I miss?” he asked.

  “You landed on it, don’t worry.” I rolled my neck and cracked my shoulders. “Thing’s gone because the round is over.”

  He stood up slowly. “We did it?”

  I nodded. “Round one over. We’re alive. You ended it.”

  He exhaled hard and dropped onto his butt, laughing as if he couldn’t decide between relief or hysteria. “Set. That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever been part of. You kicked that guy into a divine explosion. And I felt that with my whole body. I thought I was about to crap myself.”

  “Yeah, well I didn’t think I’d be kicking that stone wall of a man.”

  I took a moment to scan the room. We weren’t alone. Everyone was here—all thirty—and of course, that included the notable competitors.

  Nico–he was sitting off to the side, clutching his knees. He winced when we locked eyes.

  The Scary Lady–she waved at me and chuckled when I looked at her. She was wearing a cloak again.

  The Mummy–he nodded at me. His bandages weren’t looking good, but at least I could see his grin a little better.

  Redhead–she was massaging her wrist and looking a bit dissatisfied.

  Pretty Boy–he adjusted his hair in a reflection that didn’t exist. He looked perfectly healed up, as did all of the participants.

  Muscles–he was still gripping his chest and panting. Looked like the effects of the Smite were still lingering.

  The other people we faced–or rather, the people I Smited all looked away whenever I laid eyes on them.

  “Set,” Noah said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

  He marched over to Nico as we all looked on in silence.

  “What’s wrong with you!?” Noah yelled.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Nico cried, covering his head.

  Noah didn’t strike him; he just yelled. “He’s the only one helping us, imbecile!”

  Their argument went in circles for the next few seconds until Noah exhausted himself and marched back to me.

  “My brother’s just—he just does stupid things when he’s scared.”

  I shrugged; a lot of people do.

  Noah’s outburst got a few others speaking. I heard someone ask how many more Smites there were. None of the people in the final leg said anything, but the murmurs recounted quite a few. From the way it was sounding, it was extremely unusual. Enough that even Noah whispered about it.

  “Set, I won’t say anything.”

  I looked at the first guy that I Smited and he quickly shook his head. Same with the second. They weren’t going to say anything, it seemed.

  Then it happened.

  The lights in the ceiling—or wherever they were—dimmed just slightly, and a massive screen blinked into existence on one of the walls.

  No transition. No flicker. Just there.

  A scoreboard.

  Rows of faces—gritty recreations of our expressions in the moment we entered the trial. All thirty participants, all ranked.

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  In First Place and noted as the winner—Noah.

  “Whoa… I can’t believe it! I’m at the top! Whoa!” He shook me, overwhelmed. “This is good, right?!”

  In Second Place, surprising me, the Scary Lady.

  “Not bad, not bad. Looks like people forgot the secondary goal.” She looked my way and winked. “Or maybe they were being knocked around too often.”

  In Third Place, me.

  “Huh… This is sort of exciting,” I said, enjoying the moment more than I thought I would.

  In Fourth Place was Muscles, with Pretty Boy in fifth. Redhead was in sixth. The Mummy was in tenth place. The first guy I beat up was in 30th place… And then Nico–Nico ended up in 28th, place somehow, even though he lasted longer than a good chunk of people. How did that even happen? Did he just stay where I left him?

  And then, I noticed the Saturial. When did he get there? He was floating beneath the screen.

  “Good job on the first round,” said the Saturial, yawning into a long, golden sleeve. “Let’s go over a few highlights, shall we? It was… slightly more exciting than expected.”

  He flipped something in his hand, probably a coin or a stress ball, then pointed vaguely upward without looking.

  “First Place,” he said, nodding toward Noah’s beaming face on the board, “goes to the boy who caught the prize monster.”

  Noah straightened proudly, still visibly vibrating. “That’s me.”

  “You didn’t even have the cards, First Place. Good on you for taking your good fortune and making something out of it.”

  Noah grinned at me, eternally thankful. I found it funny given that we still didn’t know what we were competing for, beyond the fancy words the terminals first threw at us.

  “Second Place,” the Saturial went on, gesturing to the Scary Lady. “She took out the most spiders. It seemed like some of you forgot this was an option. Congratulations.”

  The Scary Lady grinned. “They were easy to squish.”

  The Saturial continued. “First Place was determined with the completion of the goal. Second Place and onwards were determined according to how many secondary enemies were defeated, in conjunction with extra point-giving factors. The secondary enemies were given more weight, of course. That was how we determined the points for the first round. Now, you each gain points corresponding to your placement on the board.”

  Numbers appeared. Noah had 30 points. The Scary Lady had 29, I had 28, and so on.

  “And then, First Place gets an extra five points.”

  Noah’s score bumped to 35. No one complained. Business as usual it seemed.

  “I want to say one thing: this round broke the record for Divine Smites executed. In all my time observing these things, I’ve never seen nine Divine Smites in a round of this level. Congratulations to those responsible. I feel like I witnessed a miracle.”

  More murmuring. People were trying to figure out how many were responsible. Most seemed unwilling to believe it had only been one or two who did all the Smiting.

  Then the Saturial sighed—and silence fell.

  “Unfortunately, one of you intends to make my life difficult.” He gestured at the scoreboard. “These scores? They’re incorrect.”

  He pointed at me with scorn in his eyes as others murmured.

  “Me?!” I yelled.

  “You, little idiot, talk too much. For this infraction, we have to modify the placements.”

  “What?” I asked, seriously caught off-guard. “For talking!?”

  A voice came from behind me. “Young man!”

  It was the mummy, his eyes wide, with the most emotion I had seen from him.

  “Don’t say anything further, Young Man!”

  My mouth just hung open for a few moments before I looked at the Saturial again.

  He raised a finger. “Third Place will be demoted to 15th Place. Everyone from Fourth to Fourteenth will move up one spot.”

  Liquid fire surged through my veins. “For talking!? I drop halfway down the board?! What did I even say wrong?!”

  “You talk too much about things outside the Trials.”

  I froze. I could feel Noah’s horrified stare.

  “Set, I’m sorry,” he muttered.

  I bared my teeth. “Shut up, Noah. You did nothing wrong.” My flame-filled eyes met the Saturial’s frigid ones. “It’s that guy.”

  “I’m not done,” he said, looking right at me. “Your placement adjustment was the first half of the penalty. As for the second half, please turn around.”

  Behind us, having silently appeared, were four transparent boiling water tanks. with the most warped and ghastly stone fixtures holding black cages over the tanks. Voices rose–

  “Oh no–it’s a group penalty!”

  “Shit! Shit! Damn that idiot!”

  “Why’d we let him yap!?”

  “Who would have thought he’d be so stupid?!”

  I just stood there, trying to make sense of this. Boiling tanks!? Was he going to put me in there!? I turned back to him.

  The Saturial met my gaze with an icy calm.

  “As a penalty for speaking too much, 15th Place will be joined by 30th, 29th, and 28th in the cages.”

  Yells erupted.

  And then I blinked—and I was in the cage. Hanging above the boiling tank.

  I shook. “What the fuck.”