Lucian stared at the four messages that floated in front of him. His breath was ragged, and as he stared at the dark red prompts, his blood started to boil!

"What the fuck is this?!" He cried out. "Is this some kind of sick game?!"

He turned his head to look for some type of projector, but the tear in his shoulder thwarted his anger and brought him back to reality.

Lucian ignored the floating words and examined his body.

Those rats had done a number on him.

Blood trickled from the deep wound on his shoulder, but it didn't seem to have torn anything important. It was swollen and in pain, but he felt that he had a free range of motion.

The tear on his cheek was awful, but the other scratches along his face and neck were just surface wounds. His stomach was bruised but was otherwise fine.

His right leg was fine, but his left held a dark purple and black bruise covering almost his entire shin.

A tired sigh escaped his lips. His mind finally accepted the things that he'd been refusing to believe.

This was real.

These creatures and plants weren't species that belonged to Earth.

He glanced at the bloodied words that hovered before him, and a final thought crossed his mind.

'This wasn't by accident...' Lucian's head slumped against the tree. The battle and the various wounds had taken their toll, and he fell into a deep slumber.

[Wave 1: Complete]

[Calculating Survivors]

[Survivors Remaining: 999,682,436]

[Time to next Wave: 13:23:58:17]

"Yes! It looks like we've got a strong batch this time!"

"The betting next year will be insane!"

"Shhh! We're not supposed to talk about that!"

"Fuck it! Look at all those survivors. When have we ever had such a great start!"

Jok smiled discreetly and pretended to ignore the men and women who were cheering around him. The first Wave was always questionable, as very few contestants came from civilizations that were privy to information outside of their atmosphere.

He glanced to his side, where a mulish woman was standing, going through the files he'd given her access to. Jok technically shouldn't be doing this, but all sense of protocol left him when he dealt with her.

"Jok..." Amelia looked up at the lumbering giant with apparent confusion in her eyes. "Why would you do something like this?"

One of the files was spread open, displaying a honey-comb like maze. All of the hexagons were greyed out, aside from the one in the center.

[Initiate]

This was something that very few people on Earth possessed, and she couldn't believe that Jok would have done something like this. What the hell would he get out of it?

Jok let out a tired sigh, "Amelia... There's something that I've been avoiding. I'll tell you, but I don't want the others to find out."

He dropped his voice and spoke in a hushed whisper, "Our Sector is being targeted. If we aren't successful this round, another Sector will be claiming our resources and more than half of our Tournament slots."

Amelia gasped.

"Jok! How could you keep something like this from your crew?!" She asked.

"Shhhh!" He put a massive finger to her lips and waved his other hand for her to calm down, "Quiet down. The decision was made by the Council."

The woman's face turned grim, and she glanced back toward Lucian's profile.

"But we only get five chips," Amelia whispered. "Out of our million slots, why the hell would you give one to Lucian? There were much better candidates, especially if the situation is so dire!"

A sad smile played on Jok's lips, "Amelia... If you didn't perform well in this decade's matching, the Council has voted that you aren't fit for a position on the Atlas."

Amelia's face blanched.

Since she'd won her Tournament eighty-five years prior, the Atlas had been her home!

"W-Where would I be ported?" She asked hesitantly.

"They would send you to Korvon with a small fortune and wish you a happy retirement," Jok mumbled, afraid of the woman's reaction.

Amelia's skin turned pale, "Korvon?! Why Korvon of all places?!"

She turned toward the screen that showed the Atlas' personal count of survivors. The number wasn't terrible, but it was easy to see that their Sector was at the bottom of the food chain.

Of the billion contestants, 317,564 had died before the completion of the first Wave. Of that number, Atlas had lost 12,702.

It was undoubtedly one of their better groups over the last century, but they would still be the laughing stock of the Galaxy!

Out of the thousand Sectors, four percent of the deaths in the first Wave had been their own! It was embarrassing!

"Why would you do something like this, Jok?!" Amelia demanded, venting out her frustration on the Captain.

Jok gave a wry smile, "This station wouldn't be the same without you, Mills. I wanted to make sure you had a fighting chance."

The woman's cheeks flushed slightly, but she stood tall, looking up at the giant's face, even though he was sitting down. She harrumphed and spun on her heels, walking swiftly from the bridge after sending a copy of the files to her personal quarters.

Once she was around the corner, the men sitting closest to Jok's chair started snickering. Jok turned his eyes to them, giving them a confident smile.

"One day, lads," He said simply.

Jok turned his attention to the still open folders from Amelia's departure. He gave a mental command, moving them in front of his chair and viewing the screen in the center.

He looked at the sleeping Lucian, his minor wounds already visibly healing in his sleep. The gash on his shoulder had stopped bleeding.

The bruising on his abdomen and shin had already gone down. None of his bones had been broken during the fight.

"I know it's rough, boy," Jok sighed, thinking back to his own Tournament. "Anyway, you did well. You've earned that rest."

Jok closed the file and continued to monitor the other contestants.