Jace stomped down the final steps and onto the marble floor. “Hey!” he said, straightening his posture to appear as large as he could, “who are you calling incompetent?” One of the men in uniform stopped in a running stance, facing him with wide hazel eyes. Then he spun around, his wavy dirty blonde hair whipping in the air. Time moved slowly as Jace took in the sight before him. Just a moment ago he saw a scene that looked like a family sitting around the table listening to a story. Now he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Dinner plates and scraps of food covered the floor along with tipped-over chairs. The table cloth ran off onto the floor, stained with juices, leaving the once beautifully organized platter a mess. Boys kicked their feet above like they were fighting off ghosts. They gasped and cried with faces turning shades of purple as they pulled at the black rings around their necks. The man covered in badges stood at the opposite table head, expression cold. Cold enough that Jace’s blood felt like it froze over as their eyes met. It was nothing more than a brief glance, but time didn’t feel normal. Everything was taking longer, he knew it wasn’t, but it felt like it was. Then came the crack. The sound echoed around the room, snuffing out all other noise. All the movement stopped too, like the sound put the boys to sleep. Once the echoing faded, a chilling silence was left to match the unusual stillness of the boys. Something about the way they hung wasn’t right. He couldn’t stop looking at them. At the paleness of their hands. The way they swayed after their final kicks of life. Final kicks of life… Once reality began to poke at him, it stirred up a deep feeling of terror. He needed to run. Now. He needed to get away. Get away from the thought, the sight, the feeling. He needed to leave but his body wasn’t moving. None of this was right. They were supposed to finish the story about where he came from… then they would tell him all about how he was going to become a champion. He was going to introduce himself to the others and tell them all about how he beat a worm monster. It was going to be great. “I’m disappointed, Cornelius.” said the General with a voice that bit like a blade. “Go,” said Cornelius, swinging an arm out in front of Jace. The ring of light behind the General’s head flashed and the extra light condensed into a line pointing directly at Jace. He still couldn’t move. Nothing made any sense. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet. The line of light shot towards him, becoming a solid spear instantly within an inch of his face. But it stopped there, shaking violently in Cornelius’s hand. “Go! Now!” Cornelius yelled. Jace was jerked from behind, and before he knew it he was running up the spiral steps, his hand in Satch’s, something wet hitting his cheek as he followed. “Think carefully, Cornelius. Your next move will decide between probation and execution.” Jace looked over the handrail just as the man named Cornelius turned and looked right at him. “You better make this worth it,” he said with a smile. Then he directed his attention back to the General, smashing a hand against the marble floor. Tendrils of crystals ripped free from the marble at his fingertips, whipping around the room with sharp cracks. They surged at the General. Jace lost sight of the spectacle as he ran up the stairwell, but he heard it like the battering of crystal against dozens of gongs. Then a massive force bore down on him, pressing him into the steps. It must have hit Satch too because they both collapsed into the stairs. Then suddenly they were in motion again. Not them, but the stairs. The entire stairwell was a blur of spinning walls. With effort, Jace turned his head to look up at a dizzying sight. The staircase itself was spinning them back upstairs like a corkscrew being twisted out of a bottle. *** Dillo’s whips of crystal rang against the obsidian shields surrounding Voldenic. It was frustrating how impressive the tyrant was. Not only had he created shields sturdy enough to withstand his technique, but he held them in place with only a pinky-fingers-flex of his lineage skill. He wasn’t using any of his real Casts or abilities. He wasn’t threatened at all and was making that clear, standing there like a father waiting for his child's tantrum to end... before serving punishment. He used to admire the General’s skill and power. Beyond that, he admired him as a man; the embodiment of ambition and progress. General Julius Voldenic, one of the seven heroes to finally end the Demon War. When Cornelius had the chance to join his ranks in the Third Military, he jumped at it. He used to dream about honor and glory back then, watching every stream of the General’s battles. However, the more he climbed the ranks and got closer to the General, the further and further he got from that child’s dream. He held the title he once coveted, recognition from his childhood idol, and wealth beyond reason. But he sold his soul for it all. Dillo knew this but hadn’t done much about it, indulging more in distraction than anything else. He supposed he should have been ashamed of that, but he knew who he was, and he did the best he could. He was simply ignorant back then when the War Games first started. Would anyone have really done differently in his position? Truthfully, what bugged Dillo the most wasn’t what he’d done, but not knowing why. Voldenic was after something, but not a soul knew what. Most thought the man was simply hungry for power like anyone. But Dillo had seen him sacrifice power, make strange moves, and connections within the King’s court that punished his reputation. These kids were the first chance he had at figuring out what the General was really after; if even just a clue. He probably could have cut down on drinking for such an important task… Then he likely wouldn’t have made the mistake of letting the two boys get separated from the others. Even if he still did, he may have caught the problem soon enough to address it before it shattered the little trust he’d snagged from the General. But then again, he needed that liquid courage to do something so stupid in the first place, knowing damn well that whether it was today or years in the future, he was probably going to die for it. The shields surrounding Voldenic spun around him in a gyrating formation so forceful that wind pressure pushed Dillo back. His whips of crystal shattered as they tried to breach the defense. The shields then stopped with a final gust and hum. Voldenic raised a palm and the shields expelled outwards like cannon fire. Dillo dropped to the floor as they decimated what remained of the whips and the treasures of his kitchen alike. Then came the gravity he was waiting for. An invisible force pressed him down into submission. He heard the boys collapse on the steps above too. They needed to escape. He couldn’t be sure that they would survive out in the kingdom without guidance. It was a magnificent place, but a brutal and unfair one, even without a General out to kill them. But they may have a chance… and if he lived through this, he could find them someday. Maybe find an answer. Dillo opened an app that he had made along with his Manor. He had carefully Sculpted his home himself and wanted the chance to easily change it at will. With a focused surge of Artima, he could then reshape it in any way that he conceived. His Halo cast a deep shadow under him as it flared with Artima at work. The spiral staircase pulled free from the floor, twisting its way up the stairwell and taking the children along with it. He knew there was a limited range to Voldenic’s gravitational pressure technique. Even a power of his level still had its limits. Once at the top of the stairwell he was sure the boys would be able to move. Since they made it down to the kitchen, he hoped they had already done something about Caps. Voldenic, realizing what Dillo was doing, rushed forward. It took immense concentration to change the shape of his home. So Dillo stayed still, rushing to move the boys to the top of the stairwell. The General's boot smashed against the side of his head, sending him rolling over the floor. He ignored the pain, forcing himself to stay focused. “Cornelius, you traitor! Stop this at once!” Voldenic barked, a flash of light condensed into a thick obsidian rod. He swung it down against Dillo’s back. Again and again, the rod bore down on him, crashing over his head, his neck, his legs. He was kicked onto his back so the rod could smash his chest and face. But he managed to do it. The staircase had retracted all the way up to his office. Now it was up to the boys to make it out. Dillo poured a bit more Artima into the floor, making it rise to push him and his outstretched arms up to grab Voldenic by the shoulders. He spittled drops of blood in the man’s face when he spoke, showing a red-toothed smile. “C’mon, what’s one time? I’ve been so good until now.” “You have no idea what you’re doing.” “Exactly. Mind filling me in?” A point formed at the obsidian rod’s tip and lanced through Dillo’s gut. A surge of pain shook his consciousness. “I didn’t mean like that.” “I didn’t want to do this, Cornelius. But you've left me no choice. I can’t have you helping those children escape.” The extension of flooring that held Dillo up crumbled, leaving him to slide free of the rod. Slowly, he collapsed in a heap. “For your information, I was always going to execute the children," Voldenic said, his anger gone and replaced with an expression of stone. "I played along to see if you truly went against orders for the sake of the Third Military. That was your second chance and you failed. I don’t know what you hoped to achieve by hiding away those boys, but have faith that I have saved you from a great mistake. Their deaths serve a greater purpose.” He always said something like that. “What greater purpose? Tell me.” Voldenic looked at the widening pool of blood around Cornelius, but he looked to be thinking more than seeing. Then he turned away. “No. I’d rather you die in peace.” General Voldenic, stepping over the bodies of children, left.