Skadi's ears folded for exactly half a second before popping back up again. "Yep!" she chirped, tail wagging. "I went exploring! And now I'm here! Hi, Unkie Omen!"

  He drew himself up, puffing his chest fur in a way that would've been impressive if he wasn't basically a floating plush toy in robes.

  "Do you comprehend, child, the absolute anarchy you unleashed upon the delicate fabric of our society by vanishing into the unknown without formal clearance? The sleepless nights! The scandalized elders! Our great Chieftain flipped the Grand Tree in search for you!"

  "He did?" Skadi tilted her head. "Gramps actually flipped the whole settlement again? For me?"

  Omenore's paw slapped against his own forehead like she'd just asked if water was wet.

  "Yes, Skadi! It rose and dropped! Official documents thrown everywhere! Entire scrolls of ancestral reports had to be recovered because you decided to gallivant into the wider world with—" his mask tilted toward me "—her."

  I rolled my eyes in response. "Nice seeing you too, MereShaman."

  "Ki's nice!" Skadi insisted, leaning over to nudge me with a grin. "She lets me sit on her shoulders sometimes. And she has snacks!"

  Omenore made a strangled noise in his throat, floating a full circle around us like he was deciding which angle was most insulting.

  "I don't care if she feeds you candied moon-lilies—you cannot just abandon the sanctum! It's a sacred trust, Skadi! A hallowed space of learning, order, and the meticulous enforcement of my perfectly reasonable rules!"

  "Oh but Skaditty did learn stuff at Ki's! I learned how to throw a [MereSphere] and—!"

  "You learned heresy is what you learned," Omenore shot back, throwing both paws in the air.

  Razecritt stepped forward then, clearing his throat. "If I may, Grand Mystic, we do have a schedule to keep."

  Omenore pivoted on his orb and jabbed a paw toward him.

  "Yes, yes, my assigned partner speaks truth. We have matches to prepare for—this wretched tournament has apparently chosen a tag-team format, and you, Razecritt, are tragically stuck with me. A pairing of raw physical might and unmatched magical genius, destined to crush the competition."

  Razecritt gave me a sidelong glance that said: I'm used to this.

  Omenore swiveled back to Skadi, looming in close until his mask nearly bumped her nose. "You are fortunate, niece, that I am far too busy winning this entire event to drag you back by your tail this instant."

  Skadi just beamed at him. "Thanks, Unkie! I knew you missed me."

  His paws clenched like he was physically holding in another lecture.

  "I—will deal with you after the tournament. And you—" his gaze snapped to me again "—you will not encourage her further."

  I kept my face straight. "Noted."

  "Good."

  He sniffed, turned in a perfectly pompous spin, and began floating toward the preparation hall. "Now, come, Razecritt. We have strategies to review. Our opponents will not defeat themselves—unless they're wise enough to forfeit upon seeing me."

  Skadi waved both her head-ear paws enthusiastically. "Bye, Unkie! Good luck! Don't fall off your orb!"

  He froze mid-glide. "…I never fall off my orb."

  She just grinned. "Yet."

  Omenore pivoted toward us again.

  He pointed to me with sudden, almost seemingly serious energy.

  "Pray the tournament matchmaker does not pair your crew against mine. For though I would regret humiliating you before so many witnesses…"

  He trailed off, clearly not regretting the idea at all. "…it would be the will of fate. I look forward to watching you discover humility."

  "Funny," I said, "I was thinking the same about you."

  He harrumphed and then turned away. I didn't bother hiding my smirk as he swept out of the room. Some things never changed.

  "I thought you Merecritts were ridiculous," Mina began, "but that guy's on a whole other playing field."

  "Yet that one is a formidable sage of the arcane arts," Loa added as she pressed her sleeve-covered arms together. The tengu woman bit her bottom lip. "If this is already the quality of the competition, I fear that..."

  She let her voice trail off before shaking her head. "KiAera, we will be dependent on you to lead us to victory."

  I gave her a prompt nod. "Of course, but I cannot win this myself—especially after discovering our fights are going to be in a tag-team format."

  I noticed Zazeke, Zest, and Kyrawl exchanging fierce glances with each other. Those three were considered our fiercest fighters. I was lucky that Zazeke convinced his mother, Queen Zesza IX, to allow him to join us. I respected that he was willing to stick his neck out for us—or I guess his wasp thorax.

  Fortunately, those three weren't our only participants. The invitation warned us to bring an even number of fighters—we were allowed to select as many of our members as possible. That made sense now if the battles were going to be two versus two.

  However, I was puzzled as to why that detail was left out of the letter sent to us. Putting that aside, we were determined to secure a numerical advantage in the preliminaries. I heard the tournament would have a total of 64 participants in its bracket.

  My gaze shifted to the quirky, awkward movements of Oath before she rested her head against mine. She was smiling contentedly, and the human-looking mouse-girl appeared as adorable as ever.

  "Oath thinks friend will be fine. We trained hard for this. Ki made sure to pave our path to victory." She adjusted herself upright and gestured with her hands in peace signs. That caused an ache in my chest—it startled me, as it was often a gesture that Emma would make.

  I had once questioned her if it was possible… that she was Emma. Or at least had memories of being someone else. At that time, Oath gave me an earnest denial, saying, "Oath is Oath. But Oath is still not used to this form. If Oath is making Ki feel bad, Oath is super sorry! But Oath did not choose this transformation, really!"

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I could only falter in looking her in the eyes during that moment, but I still gave her my warmest smile.

  "No, no. You're fine. It's just a personal matter. Honestly, I was just curious about how you were settling into this new human bipedal thing. Long legs are weird right?"

  I ended the conversation with a bit of humor, despite my spirit being crushed by the faintest hope that Emma had returned to me as someone else. But I loved Oath.

  She was my best friend. It would break my heart to replace her with someone long gone.

  I was about to say something when Roarka's voice cut through the moment.

  Roarka, who had been patiently waiting while this exchange unfolded, cleared her throat with enough force to make a few nearby onlookers flinch.

  "If your reunion is over, we should proceed. Sovereign Crueltal does not appreciate tardiness, and the opening rites will not wait for anyone. The registration of your members must commence."

  I straightened myself, pushing away the remnants of my thoughts. "Right, let's get this started then."

  Roarka nodded as she struck the pommel of her glaive against the floor to startle the crowd around us. It gave us space. She then gestured to a massive obelisk of crystal that loomed beautifully behind a counter—one that looked conspicuously like it could have been found in a lobby. It even had several receptionists waiting.

  "This way," she called, motioning toward a set of towering archways carved with interlocking serpents. "Competitors must be inside before the first horn."

  We moved, the crew fanning out around me, eyes sweeping the crowd. Every step closer to the heart of the colosseum seemed to pull more attention toward us—faces turning, voices lowering, expressions shifting from curiosity to calculation. These weren't just spectators. These were warriors, champions, and opportunists, and the air was thick with the kind of anticipation that made the fur at the back of my neck bristle.

  Roarka led us toward the registration desk, where the receptionists, a mix of various creatures from the tournament's diverse ecosystem, worked diligently. Their sharp eyes scanned every entrant before them.

  "Make sure everyone has their identification tokens ready," Roarka instructed, a sense of urgency creeping into her tone. I wondered why there was subtle dread there.

  I glanced over my shoulder at my crew, who were busy rummaging through their belongings, ensuring they had the necessary tokens. My own token was a small, polished coin glinting with an embedded shard of light. It was a token of recognition, proving our right to compete in this grand tournament. The previous day, a suspicious—headless and grouchy—dulluhan delivered them to us.

  The receptionist at the desk—a stout goblin with an enormous quill that looked almost comical in his grip—peered up at us. His beady eyes twinkled with wisdom. "Well, well, what do we have here? A motley crew of champions, I presume?" He grinned, showing a set of surprisingly pearly white teeth.

  "We're here to register," I stated firmly. "KiAera leading the Chimera Crew. We need to get this done quickly so we can prepare for the opening ceremony."

  The goblin raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. "Got it, got it. You'll need to provide the names and species of all your fighters. Don't make me chase you down; I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

  I mentally counted the fighters in our group, which numbered more than a dozen.

  The goblin slid a scroll across to me to fill out and informed me to gather everyone's tokens. So I did and began jotting down all of their names.

  When they mentioned the tag-team match-up, it became clear that it would be two versus two, meaning two fighters would compete simultaneously. However, as the leader, I had the ability to switch in with any of the teams I assigned. I nearly scratched my head. This was a strange format…

  Supposedly, the leader of each team was not supposed to participate directly. I assigned the following while filling the form.

  Chimera Crew Tournament Registration

  The document detailed for me to register the team placements and other criteria, which I read thoroughly. The terms were acceptable until the end.

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—except for the "no-kill" policy until the finals.

  The victorious leader and her semi-finalist teammate were to face the opposing leader and his teammate in a deathmatch. It was then, boldly stated on the fine print in red, that the winner would have the opportunity to face the colosseum champion.

  That made me wonder as to who that would be.

  "Alright, we have Mina, Zazeke, Loa, Oath, Kyrawl, myself, and everyone else. We're set now, yes?"

  The goblin scribbled furiously with his quill, the ink flowing as smoothly as if it had a mind of its own. "We'll finalize those names ASAP. The tournament brackets won't wait for stragglers."

  He then glanced up, nodding intuitively, his interest piqued when he jotted down the name Zazeke. "Ah, the son of Queen Zesza IX! He should provide quite the entertainment during the matches."

  Zazeke chuckled, seeming delighted at the prospect. "Entertainment? No, no. I shall provide an astounding performance. My very goal here is to face worthwhile opponents."

  I smirked. "We're hoping for more than just entertainment."

  After I finished providing the names, I peeked at the crystal, entranced by the radiant light. "What exactly does this crystal do?"

  The goblin chuckled, tapping his finger against the surface.

  "This beauty here is the Tournament Core. It holds every competitor's name and token signature. Once all teams are registered, it will generate the bracket automatically—pairing fighters for the opening matches. You'll see the full lineup after the exhibition round."

  My gaze lingered on the crystal.

  "That's a lot of glow for something that's basically an arcane hat full of names." My gaze fell on the goblin.

  "Humor me—explain the whole process. Slowly. Pretend I'm a confused tourist who just wandered in here looking for the gift shop."

  The goblin grinned like I'd just offered him a chance to perform on stage.

  "Ohhh, you want the full tour? I can give the full tour."

  He patted the crystal’s flank like it was a prized steed. "Step one—every fighter's token is attuned to them. These little beauties know your scent, your heartbeat, the way you chew breakfast. Feed them to the Core here…"

  He mimed dropping a coin into a slot.

  "…and the Core drinks it in. Doesn't just store your name—stores your very essence. That's how it knows if someone tries to sneak in with false credentials. Or, say, if your corpse is suddenly not in fighting shape anymore."

  Mina blinked. "Comforting."

  "Step two," the goblin went on, apparently delighted by her grimace, "the Core spins all those lovely essences together and coughs up a randomized bracket. Only, it's not truly random—oh no. The Core likes drama. It knows which matchups will make the crowd roar, and it'll place you so you have the highest chance of tripping over an enemy you'd least like to see. For example—"

  His eyes slid toward me.

  "—a certain magically pompous floating plush might end up staring down a certain smirking troublemaker much earlier than either of them expects."

  I kept my face neutral. "Pure coincidence, I'm sure."

  "Step three," he said, ignoring me, "the battles themselves. Two fighters against two, best of one."

  He now pointed at me. "Leader can tag in for any team if they choose, but if the leader falls, the entire crew forfeits. That's why most leaders sit out until it really matters. That and—" he leaned forward conspiratorially "—the Core knows to save the best for the bloodiest."

  "Meaning the finals," Loa said flatly.

  "Exactly! Your semi-final win buys you the right to a deathmatch against the opposing leader and their last surviving fighter. Win that, and you get to challenge the reigning colosseum champion."

  I glanced at the crystal’s shifting light and thought of all the names buried in its glow. "And who's that?"

  The goblin's grin sharpened. "If you have to ask, you haven't been paying attention to the betting pools."