Chapter 82: Origin Tomb Tournament
Arthur met Finn exactly the way Aidan expected him to, which was badly.
"A FISH." Arthur’s whole body vibrated with barely contained interest, circling the smaller creature in tight, hungry loops. "Master, it is a FISH."
[I am Finn,] the fish said, unbothered, doing a slow loop of its own in the opposite direction. [You are a very large lizard. Are you also collected?]
"I am a DRAGON," Arthur said, deeply offended. "And yes. I was collected first. I am the best one."
[I destroyed a world by existing,] Finn offered, mildly.
Arthur considered this claim, weighed it against his own considerable ego, and apparently decided he respected it. "...Acceptable. We are friends now."
[Acceptable,] Finn agreed, and that appeared to settle the matter entirely.
"They’re going to be a nightmare together," Solenne said, watching the fish and the dragon orbit each other with growing enthusiasm.
...
Three days passed by in a blink.
"Everybody ready? Enforcers are meeting us at the gate. And make sure you address me as Garen. Don’t accidentally let Aidan out of your mouth."
Beatrix and Solenne nodded.
Ordun, Kyrsa, Veshan, and Sella were waiting exactly where they’d promised, standing beside a ship that made every vessel Aidan had seen on Earth look like a child’s toy.
It sat low and sleek across the landing field, its hull a deep, matte black that seemed to swallow the light around it, marked only by the Cloud Whirl Allied Enforcer Department’s cloud-and-blade insignia glowing faint silver along one flank.
"Nice ride," Aidan said.
"Requisitioned," Ordun said, with the particular satisfaction of a man who’d fought the Alliance’s bureaucracy and won. "We put in for it after the outbreak. Figured we’d earned something faster than the standard courier line."
The interior was all clean lines and soft, ambient light, a lounge deck ringed with wide viewports and seating built for beings of half a dozen different shapes. Sella already had her boots up on a table by the time everyone settled in, and Kyrsa handed Aidan a warm drink in a cup that hummed faintly, the same familiar note as the wine from the feast.
"For the trip," she said. "3.7 light years is a long stretch to sit through sober."
The ship lifted without a sound, and the planet fell away beneath them in a slow, silent drop, replaced by the endless dark scattered with more stars than Aidan had names for.
Finn pressed itself flat against the nearest viewport, fins spread wide, eyes enormous.
[Aidan. AIDAN. Is that all water out there? So much water. None of it has a bottom.]
"That’s space, buddy. No water at all, actually."
[Lies,] Finn said, betrayed. [It looks exactly like the good kind of water.]
Arthur settled in beside the fish, equally transfixed, and the two of them spent a good portion of the journey pressed against the glass arguing about whether the void technically counted as an ocean. Jovan drifted through the cabin offering unsolicited fortune readings to anyone who’d sit still long enough, and Tom slept through the entire flight curled in Beatrix’s lap, which she seemed entirely too pleased about to complain over.
Jovan was hiding his power and identity, and Aidan introduced him as a fellow disciple of his master, just like Beatrix and Solenne.
"So," Sella said, somewhere in the middle of the trip, watching Aidan across the lounge. "Legendary-rank tournament this time. Bigger stage than Ridgehollow."
"Bigger stakes too, from what I hear." Aidan turned his cup slowly. "You four just walk in, though. Must be nice."
"Divine-rank privilege," Veshan rumbled. "We register, we’re seated. No bracket, no matches."
"Must be nice," Aidan said again, with feeling.
"It comes with a price," Ordun said. "We can enter the Tomb itself whenever we want, no tournament required at all, but only ever in a group of three Divine-ranks or more. Strict requirement, no exceptions."
"Why the minimum?"
"Because we’re the pillars," Kyrsa said simply. "Divine-rank Hunters are the strongest wall against Terrors across thousands of small realms. If too many of us die, we’d have lower defense against Divine-rank Terror Tears. That’s why group entry is a must. Mutual cover, no solo heroics."
Aidan turned that over quietly, watching Finn plaster itself flatter against the viewport as a passing nebula bloomed violet across the glass.
’The math on how many realms survive.’ He filed that away, sober under the humming drink. ’The thousands of small realms are fighting, and the people on the big nine realms are also fighting.’
[Yes, player Aidan. And the only way to end this and save the Nine Realms tree is through the Project Transcendent.]
...
The mega planet resolved out of the dark hours later, and it did not look like a planet so much as a single, continuous idea that had simply kept building.
Kaelveth Prime.
Its surface held no visible ocean or wilderness at all from orbit, tier upon tier of city stacked in luminous rings from pole to pole, spires threading up through layers of drifting cloud-traffic, and lattices of light connecting them all like a nervous system laid bare across an entire world.
"Cultural and administrative capital for this whole sector of the Alliance," Ordun explained as the ship began its descent. "Every Origin Tomb selection tournament in this region convenes here. Population close to three hundred billion."
They landed in a district built for exactly this occasion, a wide plaza ringed by towers of pale stone, banners from a thousand different worlds hanging still in engineered, windless air. The crowd alone stunned Aidan for a moment, Hunters of every species imaginable, Epic and Legendary auras pressing thick enough to feel like weather.
At the plaza’s heart stood the registration hall, a structure of soaring white arches wrapped in slowly rotating rings of golden script, each ring displaying figures that updated themselves in real time.
[Total Registered Combatants: 14,217,904.]
[Epic-rank Tournament Slots (this sector): 50. Legendary-rank Tournament Slots: 30.]
[Total Selection Slots across Cloud Whirl Alliance territory (48 Star Systems): 80.]
Aidan whistled low, doing the math without much effort. Four million and change, funneled down to eighty names by the time the dust settled across the whole Alliance.
"That’s not great odds," Beatrix said, staring up at the number.
"Odds are for people without a Divine-rank cheat code hiding in their pocket," Aidan said cheerfully, earning a snort from Jovan somewhere behind him.
They split at the hall’s entrance, Ordun’s group peeling off toward a smaller, quieter side door marked for Divine-rank registration, while Aidan led Solenne and Beatrix toward the towering main lines.
"Simple confirmation for us," Kyrsa called back over her shoulder. "We’ll be done before you’ve finished the first form."
Registration for the actual competitors was anything but simple. Aidan filled out declarations of rank, aspect category, and prior combat record, watched a floating construct verify his Legendary-rank status with a brief, invasive scan, and stood through a lengthy recitation of Origin Tomb waivers.
Participate at your own risk. Death happens if you are not careful.
Solenne and Beatrix went through the Epic-rank line beside him, both freshly stamped at the peak of their rank after three brutal days of grinding, and both looking, for the first time since he’d met either of them, genuinely nervous.
"You’ll be fine," Aidan told them, once all three cards had finally synced. "You’ve both got monsters in your corner. Metaphorically. And also literally, if Finn gets bored."
[I would enjoy being metaphorically monstrous,] Finn put in, from somewhere inside Aidan’s summoning space.
"See? Supportive."
By the time they stepped back out into the plaza, the sky over Kaelveth Prime had shifted into a deep, engineered dusk, lights blooming across every tier of the city at once, and the whole party stood there for a moment simply looking exhausted in the way only paperwork could manage after surviving actual Terrors.
"Alright." Ordun clapped his hands together. "Registration’s done. Tournament’s not for two more days. I know exactly what we do next."
"Please say food," Aidan said.
"I was going to say drinks, but the two aren’t mutually exclusive."
They found a pub tucked into the plaza’s lower ring, warm light spilling out through open doors, and the whole group crowded around a table built for exactly nine too many people. Arthur wedged half his tail under the bench, and Finn floated happily in a bowl of water someone brought over out of pure curiosity.
Drinks came. Then food. Then more drinks.
Aidan leaned back in his chair, surrounded by summons and new friends and two women who trusted him with their lives for reasons he still wasn’t entirely sure he deserved, and let himself enjoy exactly one more easy evening before the real work started.