Chapter 23: A Bad Invitation

“Please remain within the confines of this room for the remainder of your assessment.” An androgynous voice rang out from the drone, while it shot scorching beams of red light towards Luke’s feet. Pushing him back deeper into the room, towards where it had lit his bed and the other furniture on fire.

Luke blinked slowly as the thing finally decided to say something. Even if what it said, only left him feeling even more confused, and with a million more questions.

Rising into the air so as to not get clipped by the attacks, he cursed at whoever or whatever was doing this.

“What assessment?” He screamed at the flying machine, while deflecting another beam of light with the flat of his blade. It scattered beautifully in every direction, leaving a charred circular scar running along the floor, walls, and ceiling. Any other time, he would have been impressed with the movie like effect, as it was, the only emotions he held were fear for his life, and anger at the unwarranted attack on his person. An attack in a place he had considered safe.

“I don’t want to be assessed!”

The drone suddenly came to a halt in response to his words, and moved back a few feet. Where it hovered quietly in the air. He blinked in surprise at its sudden stillness.

Is that it?

It wasn’t.

“Forfeiting the assessment will result in immediate disqualification. Do you wish to proceed?”

“...What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The drone tilted over to its size, in mock confusion.

“Please confirm that you are the entity known colloquially as Luke of Sylcra.”

That… unless it’s talking about Lukeus, it should be me, right?

“I… I think so.” He said, looking nervously behind him. The fire was beginning to stick to everything in the room, and it was only due to his Warrior-tier Constitution that he hadn’t become a coughing wreck from the smoke invading his lungs. Even so, feeling the heat licking his back, he knew he didn’t have too long if he wanted a shot of surviving whatever this was. If the thing didn’t kill him, the blistering heat of the fire would.

It burned much hotter than it had any right to, and even with a healing potion or two, he didn’t like his odds of surviving prolonged exposure.

“Acknowledged. Do you intend to compete in the five-thousand three-hundred and fifty-eighth Tournament of Olympus under the banner of Emperor Cyzicus of Sylcra?” The drone asked.

So that’s what this is.

“I– ” It interrupted him.

“Please be advised, that if you forfeit now, you will be disqualified from the Games, and will not be able to re-register. You have three seconds to make your determination. Three.”

Isn’t the tournament supposed to be a few months from now?  He thought, while opening his Status. He began to steadily in intervals of three and four add his Stat Points into Constitution and Agility. It was potentially a suboptimal choice in the long run and not at all what he had initially planned, but without his techniques, he only had his body and its natural speed to rely on.

A part of him was disappointed at having made a suboptimal choice, but he was fast becoming used to the idea that his Techniques, while potent tools against most foes, had weaknesses that he couldn’t afford to ignore. Not anymore.

Whether it was the Sky Serpents invisibility, or the Rebels insane speed, both were able to compensate for his battle sense and future sight. That in mind, there was only one thing that he could be sure he would always have– raw attributes. There would be times when only his strength, speed, and the vitality of his body would make the difference between victory and defeat.

“Two.”

Luke waited patiently, as it counted down. He already knew he would accept, it wasn’t even a question to him at this point. If this was truly a part of the Tournament, then he didn’t have anything to think about. The decision had been made, when they were flying to Sophia’s forge months ago. Taking the few seconds that it offered to think of a plan though, was only smart.

A deal is a deal, afterall.

“O–”

“Yes. I want to compete. Can’t you tell me what this is meant to be? How do I pass?”

“Acknowledged. Proceeding with assessment.”

“Wai–” He protested half heartedly, his sword already in hand, and ready to deflect the incoming attacks. Immediately beams of red light once again began to rain down on him. Dodging them with every ounce of skill that he could muster, he cursed repeatedly under his breath.

Allright. So this is some kind of preliminary qualifier. Which, hopefully, means that I’m not in any true danger. What I am in danger of though, is failing. Which means I need to pass. Somehow.

So what’s the win condition? Is there one?

My techniques don’t work, which makes sense. They all involve killing, and that thing isn’t alive, and if there is someone piloting it, I can’t see them… which means I have to do this the hard way.

Whatever this is.

Frowning in determination, he sent a strand of his consciousness into the ring, and retrieved a shield. He hadn’t fought with one in a long time, but if there was ever a moment that warranted it, this was it.

Neither the Rebel, nor the warrior he had killed had one in the Hero-tier, but there were a handful of Warrior-tier ones in the Rebel’s ring. All of them were fairly basic, but they were better than the unenchanted Mortal-tier ones he had taken from the Hero’s Tomb.

Each of them were enchanted with durability, self repair, and with a grab bag of tertiary abilities.

The one he withdrew was a rectangular hunk of brass, that had the ability to stay in the air, a fixed distance from wherever he anchored it relative to his body, and provide some measure of kinetic resistance independent of his own control. It may not have been the best shield among the bunch, but against a foe that stayed in front of him, and fired in mostly straight lines, it would do.

He would have preferred something that shielded him from heat or fire, but with the exception of Hero-tier talismans, he didn’t have anything that fit the bill, and even those had already proven to be ineffectual.

The fact that his sword held up to the barrage though, gave him some hope that maybe its ability to pop talismans was limited to talismans.

Only for it to crash and burn, when the center of the shield began to glow an ominous red, before the beam cut through entirely, and burst out the other side. Ducking out of the way, he watched it clatter to the ground with a sense of dissatisfaction.

Come on.

“Hey! If this is a test, then why are you breaking my shit!”

“The acceptable use of talismans and artifacts is defined under section three, and paragraph four of the Tournament Rules. Further violations will be deemed as grounds for forfeiture.” The drone answered, while still firing its attacks.

Slapping a beam away, Luke groaned in frustration. “So, tell me that before, jackass! How am I supposed to know all this?”

“A copy of the rules was sent to all Olympian Sponsors two weeks ago, along with pamphlets containing all frequently asked questions, to be shared with all contestants.”

“Of course they were.” Luke frowned, as he narrowly batted away another beam. Just when I stumble onto a literal fortune of artifacts too, there's a rule saying I can’t use them.. Which is probably for the best. He thought to himself. If there’s someone like Heracles competing, then fighting them at all is gonna be painful, but fighting them and their parent’s wallet would be impossible, no matter how many Heroes I kill.

Whatever… that’s a problem for me in the future. For now, I need to focus on getting past this farce of an assessment.

Which, destroying property and lighting supernatural fires aside, this thing could have killed me if it wanted to. Easily. No way something that has enough juice to casually destroy the things it has, will struggle with me. And if Hephaestus is actually the one behind the Tournament, and this thing was made by him… Well, I don’t need a reminder of how ridiculous gods are.

Still, what in the actual hell is this thing testing? My endurance? Is it scanning me, and determining how far along I am in the Warrior-tier? Some mixture of them?

Not knowing what else to do he continued to dodge, and deflect the drones attacks over the next handful of minutes, while it completely wrecked his room.

He made a handful of attempts to destroy the thing, before giving up on the idea entirely. Whenever he tried, the thing dodged with a speed greater than what was possible in the Warrior-tier, making the attempt itself fruitless and a waste of energy. Whatever its purpose was, it seemed that actually breaking it wasn’t it.

After roughly five minutes of enduring the onslaught, he finally slipped. A beam of red energy hit him square in the chest, and sent him hurtling into the flames.

Surprisingly, it failed to actually hurt him, and a moment later a cool mist wafted through the room. Instantly putting out the flames, and even healing the small burns that had accumulated on his body. Rubbing his chest, Luke sat up, to find it spraying the entire room with some kind of white foamy liquid.

“Based on our models and the data assembled from other aspirants, your current rank is three-hundred and eleven, with a combined total time of five minutes and three seconds. Congratulations, your application to participate has been tentatively approved. Please note, that in the unlikely event that your rank falls below ten-thousand, you will be reevaluated, and if found insufficient, your acceptance will be revoked.” The drone said, then flying above his prone form, it dropped a token onto him, before blurring away.

Gone as fast as it had come, and leaving Luke alone and exhausted on the now wet floor of his room.

“What the fuck was that?” He said to no one in particular. Picking up the token, he turned it over. On one side there was a symbol of a hammer striking an anvil, and on the other was the number: 311.

As he watched, it ticked up twice, and landed on three-hundred and thirteen.

Huh.

Someone knocked on the door, and before he could respond it slammed open. Immediately Heracles and Rex tumbled through.

“What was your score?” They asked simultaneously. Completely unbothered by the wet and charred remains of his room, both of their eyes started intently at the token on his hands.

“Um… Three-hun–”

“FUCK.” Rex yelled, and reaching into his pocket, he slammed a slip of paper into Heracles’s waiting palms and marched away.

The Son of Zeus grinned triumphantly. His ring glowed softly, and the paper disappeared.

“I believe congratulations are in order.” He said, leaning against the wall. “Five minutes isn’t bad for your first time.”

“You know what that was?”

“It’s something one of my brothers made. My teacher had a few, that we would spar against when we were children”

Of course it is, and of course he did.

“I see. So, what was all that about?”

The grin on his face stretched even wider.

“One of the biggest draws for the tournament, aside from the actual prizes for the contestants, is the gambling. The official bets won’t open until the tournament begins in earnest, but a few minutes before you, the Adjudicator tested Lukeus. Rex said that you would score lower than him, and I disagreed.”

“Well, thanks for giving me a warning. That was appreciated.” Luke snarked, before flying over to where he had dropped the Limitless Thunder Bow.

Heracles laughed out loud. “I would have told you, if I could find you, but we were told you were with Cyzicus. It didn’t seem right to disturb you.” His eyes raked across the bow, and to the two rings on Luke’s fingers. “You managed to unlock her rings?”

“I did.” He said, returning the bow to the Saint-tier ring. “What was Lukeus’s score, by the way.”

“Come, let’s go eat with the others. I’ll let him tell you himself.”