THEOS

“Please remain within the confines of this room for the remainder of your assessment.” An androgynous voice rang out from the drone, while it shot scorching beams of red light towards Luke’s feet. Pushing him back deeper into the room, towards where it had lit his bed and the other furniture on fire.

Luke blinked slowly as the thing finally decided to say something. Even if what it said, only served to make him more confused, and raised a million more questions.

Rising into the air so as to not get clipped by the attacks, he muttered curses under his breath at whoever or whatever was behind this.

“What assessment?” He yelled, at the flying machine, while deflecting another beam of light with the flat of his blade. It scattered beautifully in every direction, leaving a charred circular scar running along the floor, walls, and ceiling. Any other time, he would have been impressed with the movie like effect, as it was, the only emotions he held were, fear for his life, and anger at the unwarranted attack on his person.

An attack in a place he had considered safe.

“Listen, I don’t want to be assessed, so can we stop?!”

The drone suddenly came to a halt, seemingly considering his words it moved back a few feet. Silently it hung in the air. Blinking in surprise, he inched back himself, his gaze moving between the drone and the door behind it.

Is that it?

It wasn’t.

“Forfeiting the assessment will result in immediate disqualification. Do you wish to proceed?”

“...What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The drone tilted over to its side, in mock confusion.

“Please confirm that you are the entity known colloquially as Luke of Sylcra.”

That… unless it’s talking about Lukeus, it should be me, right?

“I… I think so.” He said, looking nervously behind him. The fire was beginning to stick to everything in the room, and it was only due to his Warrior-tier Constitution that he hadn’t become a coughing wreck from the smoke invading his lungs. Even so, feeling the waves of heat licking his back, he knew he didn’t have long if he wanted a shot of surviving whatever this was. If the thing didn’t kill him, the blistering heat of the fire would.

It burned much hotter than it had any right to, and even with a healing potion or two, he didn’t like his odds of surviving prolonged exposure.

“Acknowledged. Do you intend to compete in the five-thousand three-hundred and fifty-eighth Tournament of Olympus under the banner of Emperor Cyzicus of Sylcra?” The drone asked.

His eyes widened in realization.

So that’s what this is.

“I– ” It interrupted him.

“Please be advised, that if you forfeit now, you will be disqualified from the Games, and will not be able to re-register. You have three seconds to make your determination. Three.”

Isn’t the tournament supposed to be a few months from now? He thought, while opening his Status. He began to steadily in intervals of three and four add his Stat Points into Constitution and Agility. It was potentially not the best choice in the long run and not at all what he had initially planned, but without his techniques, he would only have the strength of his body, and his speed to rely on.

A small part of him was disappointed at having made a suboptimal choice, but he was fast becoming used to the idea that his Techniques, while potent tools against most foes, had weaknesses that he couldn’t afford to ignore. Not anymore.

Whether it was the Sky Serpents invisibility, or the Rebels insane speed, both were able to compensate for his battle sense and future sight. That in mind, there was only one thing that he could be sure he would always have– raw attributes.

There had been, and would continue to be times when only his strength, speed, and the heartiness of his body would make the difference between life and death.

“Two.”

Luke waited patiently, as it counted down. He already knew he would accept, it wasn’t even a question to him at this point. If this was truly a part of the Tournament, then the decision had been made long ago. Back when they were flying to Sophia’s forge.

Taking the few seconds that it offered to think of a plan though, was only wise. Even if nothing actually came to mind.

“O–”

“Yes. I want to compete. Can you tell me what this is meant to be, though? How do I pass?”

“Acknowledged. Proceeding with assessment.”

“Wai–” He protested half heartedly, his sword already in hand, and ready to deflect the incoming attacks. Immediately beams of red light once again began to rain down on him. Dodging them with every ounce of skill that he could muster, he carefully observed the drone, and picked apart its every action in case it revealed any clue. None came.

Allright. So this is some kind of preliminary qualifier. Which, hopefully, means that I’m not in any true danger. What I am in danger of though, is failing. Which means I need to pass. Somehow.

So what’s the win condition? Is there one?

My techniques don’t work, which makes sense. They all involve killing, and that thing isn’t alive, and if there is someone piloting it, I can’t see them… which means I have to do this the hard way.

Whatever this is.

Frowning in determination, he sent a strand of his consciousness into the ring, and retrieved a shield. He hadn’t fought with one in a long time, but if there was ever a moment that warranted it, this was it.

Neither the Rebel, nor the guard he had killed had one in the Hero-tier, but there were a handful of Warrior-tier ones in the Rebel’s ring. All of them were fairly basic, but they were better than the unenchanted Mortal-tier ones he had taken from the Hero’s Tomb.

Each of them were enchanted with durability, self repair, and with a grab bag of tertiary abilities.

The one he withdrew was a rectangular hunk of brass, that had the ability to stay in the air a fixed distance from wherever he anchored it relative to his body, and provide some measure of kinetic resistance independent of his own control. It may not have been the best shield among the bunch, but against a foe that stayed in front of him, and fired in straight lines, it would do.

He would have preferred something that shielded him from heat or fire, but with the exception of Hero-tier talismans, he didn’t have anything that fit the bill, and the talismans had already proven to be ineffectual.

The fact that his sword held up to the barrage however, gave him some hope that maybe its ability to pop talismans was limited to talismans.

Only for it to crash and burn, when the center of the shield began to glow an ominous red, before the beam cut through entirely, and burst out the other side. Ducking out of the way, he watched it clatter to the ground with a sense of dissatisfaction.

Come on.

“Hey! If this is a test, then why are you breaking my shit!”

“The acceptable use of talismans and artifacts is defined under section three, and paragraph four of the Tournament Rules. Further violations will be deemed as grounds for forfeiture.” The drone answered, while still firing its attacks.

Slapping a beam away, Luke groaned in frustration. “So, tell me that before, jackass! How am I supposed to know all this?”

“A copy of the rules was sent to all Olympian Sponsors two weeks ago, along with pamphlets containing frequently asked questions which were to be shared with all contestants.”

“Of course they were.” Luke frowned, as he narrowly batted away another beam. Just when I stumble onto a literal fortune of artifacts too, there's a rule saying I can’t use them… Which in hindsight, is probably for the best. He thought to himself. If there’s someone like Heracles competing, then fighting them at all is gonna be painful, but fighting them and their parent’s wallet would be impossible, no matter how many Heroes I kill.

Whatever… that’s a problem for me in the future. For now, I need to focus on getting past this farce of an assessment.

Which, destroying property and lighting supernatural fires aside, is pushing me to my limits, but overall pretty tame. It could have killed me if it wanted to. Easily at that. No way something that has enough juice to casually destroy the things it has would struggle with a warrior with a sword. And if Hephaestus is actually the one behind the Tournament, and this thing was made by him… Well, I don’t need a reminder of how ridiculously powerful gods are.

Still, what in the actual hell is this thing testing? My endurance? Is it scanning me, and determining how far along I am in the Warrior-tier? Some mixture of both?

Not knowing what else to do he continued to dodge, and deflect the drones attacks over the next handful of minutes, while it completely wrecked his room. With every second that passed though, the harder it seemed to become. Funnily, it reminded him of Tetris™, and how the blocks would fall quicker the higher his score.

He made a handful of attempts to destroy the thing, before giving up on the idea entirely. Whenever he tried, the drone would dodge with a speed greater than what was possible in the Warrior-tier, making the attempt itself a fruitless waste of energy. Whatever the goal of the assessment was, he figured that breaking the drone wasn’t it.

After roughly five minutes of enduring the onslaught however, the intensity of the laser beams superseded what he could react to, and he slipped. A beam of red energy hit him square in the chest, and sent him hurtling into the flames.

Surprisingly, it failed to actually hurt him, and a moment later a cool refreshing mist wafted through the room. It put out the flames, and healed the small burns that had accumulated on his body. Rubbing slow circled on his chest where its beam had struck him, Luke sat up. The drone had stopped its attacks the instant it had landed a strike, and moved to the center of the room, where it put out the last licks of flame.

“Is that it? Did I fail?” Luke asked worriedly.

“Based on our models and the data assembled from other aspirants, your current rank is three-hundred and eleven, with a combined total time of five minutes and three seconds. Congratulations, your application to participate has been tentatively approved. Please note, that in the unlikely event that your rank falls below ten-thousand, you will be reevaluated, and if found insufficient, your acceptance will be revoked.” The drone said, then flying above his prone form, it dropped a token on top of him, before blurring away. Out of his room, and out of his sight. Hopefully forever, but something told him that it wasn’t the last time he would be seeing the machines or others like it.

“What the fuck was that?” He said to no one in particular, before shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

Picking up the token, he turned it over in his palm. On one side there was a symbol of a hammer striking an anvil, and on the other was the number: 311.

As he watched, it ticked up twice, and landed on three-hundred and thirteen.

Huh.

Someone knocked on the door, and before he could respond, slammed it open. Immediately Heracles and Rex tumbled through.

“We missed it.” Heracles sighed.

“That’s fine, what was your score?” Rex yelled impatiently. Completely unbothered by the wet and charred remains of his room, his eyes stared intently at the token on his hands.

“Hi.” Luke waved at him. “How are you doing today Rex.”

“I’m good. Now, can you please just tell me your score already?” He pleaded desperately.

“Three-hun–”

“Shit.” Rex hissed, and reaching into his pocket, he slammed a slip of paper into Heracles’s waiting palms and marched away while yelling, “Don’t tell Nel, I gave you that.”

The Son of Zeus grinned triumphantly, his ring glowed, and the paper disappeared.

“I believe congratulations are in order.” He said, leaning against the doorframe. “Five minutes isn’t bad for your first time.”

“You know what that was?”

“It’s something one of my brothers made. My teacher had a few, that we would spar against when we were children”

Of course.

“I see. So, what was all that about?”

The grin on his face stretched even wider.

“One of the biggest draws for the tournament, aside from the actual prizes for the contestants, is the gambling. The official bets won’t open until the tournament begins in earnest and only on the final round, but a few minutes before you, the Adjudicator tested Lukeus. Rex said that you would score lower than him, and I disagreed.”

“Well, thanks for giving me a warning. That was appreciated.” Luke snarked, before flying over to where he had dropped the Limitless Thunder Bow.

Heracles laughed out loud. “I would have told you, if I could find you, but we were told you were with Cyzicus. It didn’t seem right to disturb you, and before that, you were unconscious for a week.” His eyes raked across the bow, and to the two rings on Luke’s fingers. “You managed to unlock her ring?”

“Cyzicus did.” He said, returning the bow to the Saint-tier ring. “What was Lukeus’s score, by the way.”

“Come, let’s go eat with the others. I’ll let him tell you himself.”