Chapter 1: Chapter 1

 

Tom appeared standing with bare feet on hard packed soil. For a moment, he looked down at the red dirt on his bare, non-calloused feet. 

Real dirt, a different colour from the brown, almost black that he was used to. Visual proof he was elsewhere, yet that change was not important. Instead, his attention was fixated upon his feet. They were pasty white, with clipped nails, smooth and soft! 

A sigh ripped through him. “Of course,” he sighed to himself, knowing he was completely alone. 

In hindsight, it was so obvious, and he had missed it. He had been so certain of his calculations, so confident, and now this had happened. When deciding shoes were a frivolous vanity, his feet had been weathered and hard. Rejecting footwear had been a straightforward choice. After all, it had been years since he last bothered. He shifted his toes into the dirt and his heel. He applied force to test them under pressure. There was a prick of pain. When he lifted the left foot up and brushed his sole, the culprit a speck of rock substantially smaller than a Tic Tac dropped off. 

Fragile.

Dux hadn’t lied.

He was twenty again, but this time it was for real and most importantly he would not be alone. That spurred him into action and he pulled his gaze away from the body’s regression to examine his surroundings. Tom discovered he had appeared near the centre of a near perfect circle that was maybe a hundred metres across before a glowing blue dome rose out of the dirt and expanded above them. Encasing him in his own space separated from the world that existed beyond the boundary. Him and earth and then eventually the others.

The dome would not come down for hours and then expressed in the most bitter tone possible ‘it was game on’.

That concept no longer depressed him like it once had. He had grown to accept it. Humans had always shaped their environment, but they had never defined the laws of nature. That had always been imposed on them and Tom guessed that hadn’t changed, even if…

Nope. It was not worth thinking about.

Once more, he gazed around, spinning in a circle to see it all. Smooth ground, the uniform dome wall and the currently empty space. Which, without being arrogant was what he had expected. Tom focused on his senses. It was colder than he had expected and he dug his toes once more into the dirt, turning it over and under the initial layer it was moist. 

A miscalculation for some inexplicable reason, he had been expecting a more tropical or dessert environment. Maybe because of DEUS’s trial he thought himself. That place had never been cold.

No shoes! 

Half-length shorts and the most basic of tunics and the sun. He squinted up at the dome. Yep, it was the middle of the day and still cold. He was going to regret his clothing choices, but in the end he had lacked the contribution points to be extravagant.

Tom plucked at the leather around his trunk. He had bought it for its slight armour value. It had been cheap because it had been bulky and that bulk would give him some insulation at least. 

He was also the first, but Dux had confirmed as much. Tom did not move as he waited for the others to arrive. He wondered what they would be like. It was a sizeable area, and hopefully that meant his starting team numbers would be on the larger side. 

The tunic itched, and it felt like it was scratching him even when he was not moving. Tom looked at his hand. The soft skin of a scholar greeted him. At least his arms were not as white as his feet. 

All of him unweathered.

It was too late to do anything about it. After twenty years without wearing shoes, he had not even considered that the regression would mean he would need them. 

Recency bias at its blinding best. 

The cleared area was still empty, and he started pacing. Maybe he should see how opaque the dome really was. Potentially gain a useful inkling of what they would face. Three steps, then he stopped and returned to his previous spot.

There would be time later.

How long had passed? Twenty minutes? He had confirmed that the longer you survived in DEUS’s trial the earlier you would arrive here, but he had not wasted questions to clarify whether a year meant a minute here or an hour. Surely it couldn’t be the latter. The rules wouldn’t trap him in this dome for almost two days with nothing to kill.

Pop.

Suddenly he was not alone, and Tom’s eyes went to where the man had appeared. A youthful face as unweathered as his feet greeted his eyes. There were differences with the other man being noticeably richer from a possession perspective. Tom’s brain catalogued the pertinent details. Around rank eight, magic user, decent clothes, a well-made robe, shoes, visible socks and a staff that lent more into its quarterstaff heritage than its alternative purpose as a magic focus.

No, he had misjudged it. There was nothing magical about the weapon. It was thick, heavy, sturdy and probably packed a wallop, but it did not nothing more. Cheap.

Tom’s respect for this other man increased. 

A man who was openly studying him back.

Tom nodded in respect. He was the second here and that achievement, even without the evidence of the cheap staff deserved acknowledgement.

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Number two inclined his head in response. His eyes too were measuring Tom’s choices. 

Arrogant, Tom thought. Then, internally, he shrugged. It was probably earnt.   

Pop.

Another man appeared. This guy was huge, seven foot plus, rank ten with his attributes thrown into strength and vitality. He wore rough furs and had an axe resting over his shoulder that throbbed with a blessing. Privately, Tom shook his head between attributes and the axe that was a lot of in Tom’s opinion wasted contribution points.

Pop.

This time, it was a woman. Number four. She was in her low twenties, relatively short, with auburn hair and eyes that almost sparkled with curiosity. He looked past that. Any woman that he saw was probably going to be a rare beauty to his brain. Instead, he studied what mattered. A smile grew on his face. Rank seven with an agility and strength build, simple non-magical clothes and sensible leather shoes. Unlike the barbarian she was building for the future.

His eyes drifted back to her face. There was a smirk there, and she arched an eyebrow. Tom looked away, embarrassed. Did she think he had been perving?

The distinctive sounds of someone reappearing were happening more regularly now. Internally, Tom measured them upon their arrival and numbered them. He was one, the mage was two, the barbarian three and curious eyes four. Technically, arrival time only captured how long they had survived in DEUS’s trial. It was not a measure of their starting contribution points, but it would be heavily correlated. After all, the more time you had the more points you would accumulate unless you gave up and never left the beginner’s area. Tom was careful to keep that delineation in his head. The number he assigned did not represent power or potential or anything concrete like that. Instead, it was a guess at the windfall they received at the start. And if they were in the top dozen, it was also a testimony to their internal strength. Abject loneliness, Tom knew could crush even the strongest of wills. The trial was officially for humanity’s benefit, but it certainly approached the line of torture.

Tom shook his head and focused. 

People started arriving in a flood and Tom could start guessing time periods. 

He was forty, the mage twenty-five the barbarian twenty and then another twelve ranging down to fifteen years after that a new person appeared every few seconds. Then at what Tom had assigned six years no one new popped into existence. 

A thin white man number eighty-six was last. From his presence, Tom doubted he had the fewest contribution points. After all, he had a starting rank of nine and powerful magic daggers to boot. Someone who went hard could easily accumulate points three times faster than a person who failed to extend themselves.

For now, there were so many unknowns, but overtime Tom was confident he would work out who was competent.

The space had barely been filled. 

Tom swallowed his frown. Eighty-six was at the lower end of the spread of starting populations, exactly the opposite of where he wanted to be, but the beginning spots were random and his luck had failed him.

Quietly, he looked down at the mana crystal he had been using since arriving. It was soul bound and upgradable and spending precious points to have it be soul bound was the decision he had agonised the most over. Unfortunately, he had not been willing to risk another human stealing it and so instead of coming through with extra useable equipment he had bound this crystal to be forever. It was probably for the best even though they were all on the same team. Tom was not completely naïve. There were always idiots who would form the opinion that an object as powerful as the mana crystal would be better served in someone else’s hands. Doubtlessly their own. Even if they were altruistic, they would gift the crystal to the type of fool who purchased immediate strength rather than investing in traits or objects with long-term potential. For the peace of mind of not having it stolen, Tom was happy to spend a few days shivering.

The accumulated people all looked uneasily at each other. Assessing those around them just like Tom had. Everyone gathered here would rely on each other to survive for long enough for their personal strength to grow to the point they could flourish independently. Even if how they went about it might differ, at least the aims of all these refugees from Earth were aligned. They all wanted to save humanity. 

The best path to achieve that was unknown. Deliberately so and probably the purpose of this twisted game. Fame, strength, influence, wealth and who knows what else were metrics that would measure them for the next sixty-four local years or almost a hundred earth years.

Then the score would be tabulated and everyone still alive from this first wave would find out if they had done enough. The rest of humanity was one hundred percent dependent on everyone gathered here and the presumably thousands of other staging spots spread out over Existentia. 

Tom forced his breathing to be even to combat the mounting anger. He had seen the rewards for the different places between the seven races. They all had, and humanity’s combined score had to be in the top three of the seven races competing otherwise… the eight billion people currently in stasis would be seeded on this world in a way guaranteed to create death and suffering beyond anything that humans had ever done to themselves.

Tom shut his eyes and held in the tears as he imagined what would happen to his family and friends if they failed.  

Seventh place meant everyone was dropped naked with nothing to aid them on a planet where a bunny rabbit could kill a grown man. Sixth, you got to spend your contribution points but for most people that might mean they could drop with clothes and a knife. After all, humanity’s best was already here and in a hundred year’s time they probably wouldn’t be around to help.

Fourth place got contribution points, clustered starting zones, basic structures and a month’s rations which might sound like a lot but it wasn’t. The only upside with that result was that human civilisation would probably survive at least in spots. According to DEUS’s analysis that was a five percent ten-year survival rate. Tom really did not want that happening to his mum, dad, and his younger siblings, Em and Billy. The inhumanity! Internally, Tom laughed at the joke. Humans for millenniums had believed that other humans were their worst enemy.

They had been wrong. 

Fuck the GODs!

The important fact was that everyone here was aligned to the same aim. Their siblings, parents, partners, kids were all in the same boat. Humanity completely united and all it took was… Tom stopped the thought.

Fuck the GODs.

That was the only thing that had to be said, at least in the safety of his brain where they probably couldn’t hear. 

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