Zachary Scott
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Chapter 112 - The Drop
🕑 Added 2025-07-10 14:01:46 +0000 UTCThe early morning hours had been a blur.
I reported to my “muster station” with Lyria and the other Aspirants. There, Silver Rank Thrask officials had put some kind of spell on us after confirming our final item and spell selection.
The feeling was incredibly strange. All my Iron Boons were suddenly cut off. My passives were inactive. All my actives but one were gone. And maybe worse of all? My face was fully exposed for anyone who cared to see.
Seraphel’s face.
My only saving grace was that it was a face nobody would’ve seen for at least three hundred years. I could hope anybody who had a passing memory of Seraphel’s likeness would only think I bore an odd resemblance. After all, who would imagine a random Iron walking into a tournament was really a former god?
I certainly didn’t feel like one at the moment.
Once our items were taken, we were given uniforms to match our status. Slaves wore a plain white suit of cloth, and I heard one of the officials loudly mention that the white made blood easier to see from a distance. Aspirants were given light gray uniforms. The nobility were outfitted in what looked like tailored black outfits that were far more embellished and well-made, but still wouldn’t offer any more protection against a blade than what we’d been given.
With almost all my items, spells, and boons stripped away, we were led to the lifts. Three groups of white, gray, and black. Three groups expecting entirely different fates and with entirely different hopes for what the tourney could offer us.
We rode the lift to the surface in groups, and when it was my turn, I realized how long it had been since I’d seen the world above Thrask. Months. And so much had changed since the last time I’d been up here.
The lift rocked to a stop in the small fort we’d squeezed through so many months ago. I saw more white-skinned kiergards with their odd hairless faces and heads positioned around the fort. There were far more of them than when we’d first arrived, and I supposed it made sense. If any of us tried to run, I guessed these kiergards were the hunting squads meant to bring us back.
My attention quickly lifted as I followed the lifted gazes of everyone around.
They were looking up. High up.
And I could see why.
Airships.
There were three of them. Each hung precariously in the sky in defiance of gravity, looking far too large to float or hover. Each like some ancient behemoth made of wood and rope. They were thick, armored, and had no sign of sails, propellers, or any visible propulsion. Instead, they had ship-like wooden hulls that shifted slightly as I shielded my eyes from the morning sun and looked up at them.
“They ride gravity wells,” Lyria explained, as if that told me anything.
“It’s old magic,” Naia added from my side. Her long hair was curled and flowed around her heart-shaped face as she smiled up at me. “There’s a paved path dedicated to making the things work. Each airship has a gravity bender aboard, and they use existing flows in gravity to drag the ships along.”
“Wow,” I said, still staring up at them in awe, temporarily forgetting the anticipation and worry thumping in my chest for what was to come.
“You know,” Naia said, full lips curving. “Without the helmet, you—”
“Shut up,” Lyria said, stepping between us. “We’re about to fight for our lives. You could at least pretend to care.”
Naia glared back. “I was going to say he’ll become a crowd favorite with a face like that. Someone worth having as an ally. The people running the games tend to make sure the protective wards don’t fail for people the crowds like. Get on their bad side, though? Then you can almost be certain there will be an accident when it’s your turn to die.”
“You just want to use him,” Lyria said. “Why would he want an ally like that?”
“Because I’m capable. I know the games. I know the history. You could use someone like me close.”
“We’ll need all the allies we can get for what I’m planning,” I said, eyes still trained upward on the massive ships. “She can tag along. If she steps out of line, we’ll eliminate her ourselves.”
“You would be welcome to try, Brynn Stygos,” Naia said with a half smile.
“Enough,” A guard said, jabbing us with the butt of his spear. “Move along. We’ve got a schedule to keep.”
We were led off the small island fort that granted access to Thrask and into a field below where the airships hovered. I spared a glance for the woods to our left, feeling a perplexing sense of nostalgia as I looked at the twisted trees.
The Black Wood.
It felt like a lifetime ago when I emerged from that forest covered in carapax mucous and fresh from my victory over the briarwraith. It was also a reminder of the lich and Circa.
Circa… was she really still alive out there somewhere? And if she was, why hadn’t she made it back to Thrask yet to find us? Then again, I guessed I shouldn’t assume she’d come straight for me if she was alive. She would want to put that lich down once and for all.
The thought brought up a fresh wave of worry for Riverwell and its inhabitants. As an Iron, I was still probably too weak to truly help them, but I didn’t like feeling as though I’d abandoned them. Was there something I could be doing right now instead of this? Risking my life to save four people I barely knew?
I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts. There was no use worrying over the paths I could take. Right now, this was the path I was walking, and I needed to give it my full attention.
And it looked like we were going to be… sucked up into the airships by some magical means based on what I was seeing.
Ahead, I saw slaves, aspirants, and nobles being gathered beneath each of the three airships. One by one, people were lifted off the ground in a nearly invisible, shimmering band of air straight up toward the ships at high speeds. Considering the ships were probably a few hundred feet in the air, I found myself clenching in more than once place as I waited for my turn.
“Is that safe?” I asked.
“The gravity beam?” Naia said. “Yeah. That part is safe. It’s probably the last safe thing we’ll experience for a few days or weeks.” She looked at Lyria. “Or hours, depending on how long we last in there.”
I craned my neck to watch a nearby aspirant get yanked upward, arms and legs kicking as he slowly went from a detailed shape to nothing but a black dot and disappeared into what I hoped was a large enough opening on the bottom of the airship.
Behind us, I noticed a crowd had gathered. People were watching the participants get loaded onto their airships, and the spectacle of it gave me an odd sense of unreality.
I could very well die in this tourney. That would be it. No more rise to godhood. No more grand plans of saving this world of Eros. No finding out why or how the hell I came to be in this world in the first place or how I’d actually ascended to godhood in the first place. It would just end.
And yet all these people were cheering, smiling, and munching on snacks as if they were about to watch a sporting event.
I realized my fists were clenching at my sides, fingernails digging into my palms.
Their casual disregard for our lives lit a quiet flame deep inside me. Something I could feel would grow with each injustice. Something that would fuel me until I found a way to turn this whole shitshow on its head. I didn’t just want to win. I wanted to save every last slave and embarrass the nobility while I was at it.
The nobility added to the flame in my chest. They also looked unbothered, as if they were going out for a holiday with some friends or for a hunting trip. There were a few exceptions to the chatting, smiling nobles waiting to be beamed up to their ship, though.
Vitus stood with some of the members of his Azure guard. To their credit, they all wore grim faces and looked like they were preparing for war. Cassian stood apart, picking something from his nails with his head down. Kalkus laughed loudly with some friends and seemed to be pantomiming the act of hacking someone’s head off.
And then there was Rake. He wore the same light gray as the rest of the aspirants, but there was something quiet and deadly about him. I could see it even from a distance. He wore the promise of violence like a second skin, and even if I hadn’t seen him so much as look my way so far, I knew he’d be coming for me. I knew his presence here couldn’t be an accident, even if he’d been hunting an Ascension Token since I first crossed paths with him back in the Black Wood.
Winning here would get him his prize. But killing me… I was pretty sure he might value that above even an Ascension Token at this point.
I turned my attention to the nobility who all clustered beneath the same airship. When they were pulled upward, they rode the gravity beam with dignity, maintaining almost heroic poses like they have been practicing this since birth.
Oddly enough, the slaves also seemed hardly bothered by the beams. They didn’t look heroic, but the also didn’t kick and shout with surprise as they were pulled upward. It made me think they were probably shuttled around Eros this way between various masters and were used to this as well.
The aspirants, on the other hand, were not putting on a show of dignity. Almost every single aspirant shouted with surprise or fear, kicked, twitched, and tried to fight against the beam as they were dragged toward the airship. One girl even fainted, going limp as she was lifted upward and disappeared with height.
When my turn came, I tried not to make a fool of myself, but I still felt my balance shifting and turned over several times, arms flailing as I tried to right myself and fight the sudden nausea flooding my system. It was over in seconds, and I felt the upward pull stop suddenly as I passed through an open hatch in the bottom of the hull. I was flung sideways and landed in a heap, only to be lifted by a guard roughly, who kept a tight grip on my upper arm.
“This way,” he said.
The airship's deck vibrated beneath my feet as I followed him, a steady thrum of magical energy fighting against everything natural to keep all this weight suspended. On our way to the upper deck, we passed a woman with no hair and tattoos all over her body. She had her eyes closed and sat cross legged, the air shimmering in a distorted field around her.
“Gravity bender,” Naia said from behind me, following my gaze.
A female guard had Naia by the arm, too, and gave her a shove to get her moving faster.
I looked back and didn’t see Lyria yet. There was just the big open hatch at the bottom of the hull and a few guards waiting to grab and lead the next aspirant along when they came.
“She’ll be here eventually,” Naia said, grinning. “Quite attached to her, aren’t you?”
“No talking,” the guard holding Naia said. “Keep moving.”
When we reached the top of the ship, which was a wooden deck just like a boat with half-height railings that might stop someone from stumbling over, my breath caught.
We were so damn high. I could see clouds stained orange by the rising sun drifting so close I could almost reach out and touch them. Below, the tiny island with the lift and the massive vortex leaking water down on top of Thrask looked like miniature models.
I lurched a little, feeling my legs go weak as I jerked my eyes back to the deck, where other aspirants were being positioned beside points on the railing and chained into place.
To one side of the ship, I could see the slave boat floating in mid-air and the small shapes of slaves being shackled just like we were. To the other side, I saw the nobility strolling freely on their deck with no sign of guards to control them.
“Final positions!” A woman in a uniform I didn’t recognize barked. “All are aboard. Embark for the tournament grounds!”
All are aboard? I looked around for Lyria and spotted her being led up the stairs by a male guard. She caught my eyes and gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment.
I realized I wasn’t just worried about saving the slaves in that moment. I needed to make sure nothing happened to Lyria. Fuck. I suddenly wished I’d talked her out of coming, but would she have listened?
I doubted it.
For better or worse, she was doing everything she could to protect me. But I swore to myself I’d make sure she came out of this okay, too. The slaves, too. I had no idea how I was going to do it. And I only had a vague idea of how I’d manage to keep anyone from recognizing me once the games began.
“Let’s go!” An official on deck shouted. She stomped her foot, raising her voice. “Get this piece of shit moving!”
There was a subtle wave of static energy that made the hairs on my arms raise, and then we lurched into motion. I swayed on deck and the shackles bit into my wrists as I tried to avoid falling like the others. One man actually slid between the rails and was dangling off the side of the ship screaming for his life. All I could see was his shackled hands turning pink as his hands started to slip through the metal restraints.
With a sigh, one of the guards walked over and hoisted him back up. “Do it again and I’ll let you fall,” the guard warned.
Below, I could see how incredibly fast we were moving. The landscape whipped by so quickly I wondered if we were moving hundreds of miles per hour.
“Two minutes to drop!” the woman in the strange uniform shouted. “Do your final checks!”
The wind cut through my clothes, carrying the mixed scents of fear-sweat and piss from at least one aspirant who'd already lost control of their bladders.
Then the portals started opening.
Rifts tore through the air around our platform, moving at slightly different speeds than the ship, as if the person making them was having trouble matching velocities. Each portal was like an orange-ringed window, giving a perfect view into hundreds of different scenes, each full of people who appeared to be eagerly watching us.
When the portals passed through clouds, the portals made a loud hissing sound and left gaping holes in the condensed water, as if they were putting off tremendous heat.
The portals came in different sizes, and each seemed to let sound pass through. Most of the sound was a roaring chatter, but a pair of announcers were speaking loudly over it all, possibly projecting their voices through the portals to everyone watching.
The largest portal was several hundred feet across. I could see the arena where we’d stood yesterday through it, along with a crowd packed into the stands.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” The announcer's voice boomed from every portal simultaneously. “THE 347TH GRAND TOURNAMENT OF THRASK BEGINS IN FIVE MINUTES!”
More portals were still ripping into existence every moment. A packed tavern full of screaming dockworkers. A viewing gallery where noble families sat in luxury boxes, some actually eating breakfast while waiting for the bloodshed to begin. A gambling house where odds flickered on massive boards and runners scrambled to place final bets.
My attention locked on one portal in particular: a royal viewing box where I glimpsed the Diamond-ranked woman from yesterday. She was saying something to a scribe, who frantically took notes. Even through the portal, I could feel her presence like a blade at my throat. If Ithariel decided to watch, would that be the portal he’d watch from? Did he even need a portal?
“Time for your final inspection,” A severe-looking woman said as she appeared at my elbow. Her grip on my arm was surprisingly strong, though I noticed her hand trembling slightly. She had blonde hair worn just above her shoulders that hung loose from her guard’s helmet. “You. With me. Now.”
Unlike the others getting similar inspections, she unshackled me from the railing and led me back toward the stairs that led below deck. The guard's uniform she wore beneath her armor looked far too large for her, almost like she’d grabbed the wrong size in haste. A bead of sweat ran down her temple, even though the constant wind on deck was near freezing this high up.
I saw Lyria shackled in her own place watching me with worry as I passed. I offered her a smile I hoped was reassuring.
Once we were below deck, the absence of rushing wind was an immediate relief.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She glanced back at the stairs, then pressed herself against the wall, pulling me into the shadows. Her voice was tight when she spoke.
“Listen carefully,” she whispered, and her entire demeanor changed. The severity melted into desperate urgency. “My name is Talia. I'm a game manager, and I've orchestrated all of the changes for this year's tourney. The suppression system, the strategic points, everything.” Her words came out in a rush, like she was afraid she'd lose her nerve if she slowed down. “I did it all to give aspirants and slaves a fighting chance.”
“What?” I tried to pull away, but her grip tightened.
“Just listen. I’ve risked everything for this. And I risked it all again to get on this ship and warn you. So fucking listen.” She kept glancing at the stairs, and I could see a muscle jumping in her jaw. “I've been watching you—I know you’ve sensed the spell I used to watch you. I’ve seen you notice it. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re the best chance we have. An aspirant needs to win this year, or nothing will ever change.”
“Lady, I don't know what you're—”
“Northeast from wherever you land, roughly a quarter mile, there's an outpost built into a cliff face. Stone construction, single approach path, overlooks two other strategic positions. They don’t admit this, but the nobles have been given a much more extensive briefing than the rest of you. They know exactly which forts and outposts will offer the most skill and equipment unlocks.”
“Which ones?”
“Be quiet and listen. We don’t have long. There is a pair of castles they’ll all go for. I know they will. It means if you can survive the melee when you land, you should be able to claim the outposts in the northeast without much opposition.”
“Why should I trust you?”
Her eyes hardened. “Because I'm risking my life telling you this. I’ve watched you. I know why you’re really joining this tournament, and we share the same goal, Brynn. Those slaves deserve better than being entertainment. And if someone like you were to win, it might finally tip the scales. People might actually believe things could be different in a place like Thrask, they might—”
“TWO MINUTES TO DROP!” shouted the female announcer from above.
Talia looked up, eyes wide, then back to me, speaking more quickly now. “The outpost in the northeast is defensible with small numbers. Directly east from there is another fort. If you can hold both, you’ll have strategic control over the entire eastern section of the battleground. Most groups will exhaust themselves fighting over the central castle. Be smarter. The first outpost will unlock two pieces of equipment. The fort will grant you another active skill. Understand?”
I nodded, even though the information was coming so fast that I was having trouble processing it all.
“With me, back to your spot,” she said suddenly, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the surface. She marched me back to my spot and shackled me to the side rail. “Good luck, aspirant.”
“THIRTY SECONDS! PARTICIPANTS, PREPARE FOR DROP PROTOCOL!”
The deck beneath us began to glow. Runes I hadn't noticed before lit up in sequence, and suddenly I could see through the wood as if it was glass. The ground waited below, impossibly far, a patchwork of forest and clearings that would soon be painted red.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” someone chanted nearby.
Naia caught my eye from across the deck, her face pale but determined. “Brynn! We should coordinate our landing. If we can group up quickly—”
“FIFTEEN SECONDS!”
The noble ship's floor had already turned transparent. I could see them standing in small groups as if they’d already formed kill squads and were ready to engage the moment we landed. Deadly magic weapons gleamed in nearly every hand. Of course, their chosen items were probably at least Epic, and the Iron Ranked nobles probably even had Epic Iron Rank weapons or better. One woman with pure black skin held a spear that crackled with lightning, pointing it at various slaves on the other airship like she was choosing lobsters from a tank.
“—ENTERING TOURNEY ZONE. PROTECTIVE WARDING SYSTEMS ENGAGED.”
I could feel the same faint static tingle across my skin I felt in the Guild Hall’s training bubble and the Aspirant Guild’s training area. As long as nobody important decided my death would be best for the crowds, I’d survive fatal damage. But I knew the slaves wouldn’t be so lucky.
I spared one last thought for my chosen item and skill. It was obviously too late to change, but I found myself wanting reassurance. If I was lucky and claimed an outpost that granted me access to another item, I could’ve planned on getting my bedroll later into the tourney. But it would have been a massive risk. I didn’t know how hard it would be or if I’d get to pick which item I unlocked.
So I was content with that choice.
The other, harder choice, had been my active ability.
I went with Devour Mana. Without my Alchemist’s Kit or any of my potion vials, a huge number of my skills were borderline useless. And given my goal to save as many lives as possible, I thought Devour Mana was the most versatile. It would also give the greatest chance to survive the initial melee myself and gather people, sending them to safety and hopefully building our own small faction.
“TEN! NINE! EIGHT!”
The shrill countdown from the announcers cut off my thoughts.
No point worrying now about the “why.” I’d made my choices, and I needed to prove myself right once we hit the ground down there.
The deck was now completely transparent. Nothing between us and a thousand-foot drop but fading magic and hope.
“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!”
Through the portals, the crowd's chanting reached a fever pitch. Someone had started a wave in the arena.
“FOUR! THREE! TWO!”
I bent my knees, trying to prepare for—
“ONE! RELEASE!”
The floor vanished.
Not gradually. Not in sections. One moment it existed, the next we were falling through empty air, fifty aspirants screaming as gravity reclaimed us. The wind tore at my clothes, my eyes, made it impossible to breathe.
I tumbled, catching glimpses of the other ships' occupants also plummeting. The slaves fell in a tight cluster, their ship having dropped them from a single point. The nobles were more spread out, all somehow looking calm and ready despite being in freefall like the rest of us.
The ground rushed up with fatal promise. My brain ran the math on terminal velocity versus how many seconds we'd been falling and concluded we were absolutely going to die.
I fell faster and faster until the rushing air felt like it was trying to rip the skin from my face clean off. My lips flapped, my eyes stung, my ears were full of the deafening roar.
My brain couldn’t keep up as only a faint part of my mind registered that I was seconds from certain death.
And then it all suddenly stopped. White clouds formed around my feet, and my speed slowed so gradually I didn’t even feel my stomach lurch. One moment, I was falling to my death, and the next I was drifting on a soft cloud that was lowering me to the ground as gently as a baby in its mother’s arms.
I actually laughed with relief as I drifted down the final distance.
Looking around, I saw others doing the same. Staring at their feet in wonder. Laughing. Crying. Flashing thumb's up to friends.
I spotted Thorn about fifty feet away, already scanning for threats as his cloud lowered him. Sylara was near him, her hand reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. She must have chosen another item to bring instead of her weapons, but what?
Either way, relief flooded through me—at least I could see some of our people.
“Thorn!” I called out, but the wind carried my voice away.
A scarred slave drifting just a few feet away from me turned at my shout, grinning with gap-toothed relief. “We made it!” he shouted. “The safeguards actually—”
A javelin of pure lightning punched through his skull, snapping his head back so far his neck audibly snapped and stayed bent at an unnatural angle.
The sound came first: a crack like the world breaking. Then the wet impact, the smell of lightning storms and charring meat. Blood spattered across my face, hot and metallic. The man's eyes, brown eyes that had just been bright with hope, crossed, looking up at the spear crackling with lightning that seemed to have sprouted from his forehead.
“No!” The word tore from my throat as I reached for him with Devour Mana instinctively, but there was nothing to pull from in his core. The mana had leaked out of him already, along with his life.
He slumped, and the cloud continued to gently carry him downward. His body twitched once, twice, then went still, arms hanging limp like a broken marionette.
The javelin yanked itself from his forehead in another spray of gore, zipping back to the woman above’s hand who caught it effortlessly. Her pure black skin seemed to drink in the morning light as she cocked back her arm and prepared for another throw.
The swirling portal windows roared with the crowd's approval.
Cheers mixed with screams and cries of pain all around me.
Some slaves and aspirants tried to steer their clouds away from the heart of the killing field. Others were actually jumping off the clouds, most landing very badly and screaming as they clutched broken limbs.
More spells and magical weapons were beginning to join the fray. More deaths. More blood.
I kept reaching out to heal the wounded as I willed my fucking cloud to descend faster, but it was pointless. The nobility were so strong they were killing their targets instantly. All I could do was help heal some broken limbs from the ones who jumped, but some were already getting picked off before they could make it a few steps.
My hands were shaking. Not from fear—from rage. The man's blood was still warm on my face, and I could hear the excited cheers from spectators swirling all around me, along with the announcers excitedly calling out the kills like sports commentary.
I reached one hand up and dragged it down over my face, smearing the blood across my features. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was a start. I imagined there would be no shortage of blood, though. Enough to paint my face pure red if I needed.
I was finally low enough to jump from my cloud. I landed hard, straightened, and felt my fists clenching at my sides. I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I wasn't just going to survive this tournament.
I was going to burn their whole fucking game to the ground.
Comments
Elle
Why does he think Circa is alive, though? The last he heard from Rock was that she had died, and he hasn’t received any information indicating that was not true
Black Rose
I don't know if it was rewritten I'm a new reader but I didn't think he knew circa was alive
John Scott
Hmm the Burned Man is not an ability I don't think......dangerous but unleashing him and the nobles will be fleeing.
Zachary Scott
I'll admit I can't call to mind exact examples beyond this one you're pointing out. But at least for this specific one I think it's a stretch to call it ridiculous. Brynn is in a chaotic situation in this scene. Some woman he doesn't know just pulled him aside and started spouting a bunch of information to him. He has no idea who she is or why he could/should trust her. I personally think it would be more unrealistic if Brynn just nodded his head and took it all in calmly. She also interrupted him, so you don't know where he was going with that statement. "Lady, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not worried about some political bullshit right now," for example, could have been on his mind. It doesn't mean he isn't capable of grasping something like what she's talking about, it's more that he's not in a state of mind right before he gets dropped into a tournament to worry about/think about/process it. I think there's more of a trend in lit-RPG to make the main character always the smartest, strongest, and most perfect person in the room to the point that it kind of destroys the integrity of the world. I'd rather have him be flawed and occasionally not say or do the perfect thing because I want him to earn his competence, if that makes sense.
Leonard Marchant
An aspirant needs to win this year, or nothing will ever change.” “Lady, I don't know what you're—” Brynn keeps doing this, it's honestly getting a bit ridiculous. Saying he doesn't know what's going on or what anyone is talking about with seemingly no intention of actually processing what's been said. I realise that managing what a character is aware of is a difficult balance to keep, but I fear you're being destructively conservative with his perception. At times it contaticts how other characters are said to view him, especially that Noble with the scary mum.
Zachary Scott
lol :D I am actually getting ahead finally. I decided I can't juggle two books and work on the romantasy + this story at the same time. So I'm just doing level 1 god 100% at the moment. But I'm resisting the temptation to keep throwing bonus chapters out there, because I'm going to inevitably have to pause to work on romantasy. So this way there will be more of a consistent release pattern for a change. At least until I run out of chapters :P
James Williams
amazing, another now please!
