The Game entered the room, once again inundated with the plethoric ring of clocks. The Game could easily see himself infuriated with the sounds if he had to work in this shop every day, but with the windfall this building had given him, the sound was music to his ears. He couldn’t stop the ginormous grin from painting his face. After last night’s Tournament match, he had learnt to love this place.

His smile soon faded into confusion as an unexpectedly familiar face greeted him. “Biddy? What are you doing here?” In front of the Game was a young woman with wild long hair fruitlessly kept in check as it was bunched into a ponytail. Adorned on her back was a large bow dressed in a thick coat of grey fur, the bow itself seemed almost living as the Game thought he could see the slight inflation and deflation of breathing from the bow.

Biddy was just as confused seeing the Game here as he was her. “I came to collect my reward from last night’s fight and bet on the results of your upcoming match while I was at it.”

The Game smiled hearing of her results. “You bet on Liederkranz too?”

Biddy grew a massive grin. “Of course! Us girls have to support one another.”

The two shared a trite laughter before the Game’s face scrunched back into his confusion. “But Biddy, aren’t you supposed to be in Proselyte?”

Her eyebrows cocked in unsurety. “I am. Aren’t you supposed to be in Horsa?”

“I am.” He replied.

The two looked at each other in befuddled silence for a while until Biddy finally lifted her arm and gave a stilted wave. “Well… I have to go.”

The Game replied almost autonomously as his mind tried to understand their meeting. “Uh, yeah. See you around.”

She passively parroted his goodbye exiting the store. “See you around.”

The Game stood in a stupor until the sound of the shutting door woke him from his trance. He turned away from that bewildering wooden door and made his way towards the counter.

Opposite of the counter was the same attendant he had met two days prior. Next to her, propped up on a tall highchair was a chubby child made of pure brass and a cubic four-faced clock for a head; two of the clock’s hands were stilled, frozen in time. One of the clock faces were opened up allowing the store clerk to lean in and repair some misaligned cogs.

The Game arrived at the counter and rapped his knuckles against the wooden stand to gain the woman’s attention. “One moment please.” Was all she replied without even sharing a glance to her customer. The Game patiently waited as the woman worked within the head of the brass child and finally with the sound of a click, the clock faces whirred back into action. The woman closed the open clock face shut causing the brass child to happily clap in excitement. With a struggled heave, the woman grabbed the child under its armpits lifting it out of the highchair and onto the ground. The little brass creature hugged against the woman’s leg happily and then ran off into the back room. Finally finished with her work, the woman turned to the man and shared a smile. “You must be quite content with your winnings.”

The reminder strengthened his already present grin as he responded. “Well, I was hoping that Liederkranz would have been the underdog given how popular Poetaster is, but a win is a win.”

The woman replied, her smile finding itself less natural against her offense. “I don’t form bets on popularity sir. I make sure that my bets are formed on only the most accurate intel of the two contestants possible.”

The Game threw his arms in the air placatingly. “I didn’t mean that as a slight or anything. Just a comment.”

Her smile returned. “Of course. Are you here to collect your winnings?”

“Actually, I was hoping I could transfer the funds to make more bets. Am I allowed to bet on the next match?”

The question managed to pull a soft chuckle from the woman. “Only if you are betting on yourself winning.”

The Game puffed out his chest in a comical gravatas. “Obviously I’m betting on myself. I have to at least show that much confidence. What are my odds anyways?”

The woman easily answered. “Three to four.”

The Game frowned at her answer. “I’m the underdog. And it’s another low stake bet.”

“Given the abilities and limitations of your powers, it is very difficult for there to be a large odd gap between you and your opponent. It is also the fact that your power implicitly demands you to be at a disadvantage in every confrontation that has made you the underdog.”

The Game cocked his eyebrow intrigued. “You know how my power works.”

She smiled back. “I’m a bookie, it’s my job to know.”

That answer didn’t satisfy him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get any better an explanation from her, so he moved on. “Fine, I’ll put a quarter of my profits from the first fight into myself for winning. And can I look at future bets as well or?”

“Yes of course.” The woman answered happily pulling out her massive book. “Is there a match in particular you would like to ask about?”

“How about the last one of this arena. What are the odds that kid actually kills that vampire?”

The woman burst into a raucous laughter taking a few seconds to recollect herself. “Killing the Vampire? Next to none. Winning the fight well that…” The woman flipped through her book until she came to a specific page. “Would be a one to three odds.”

The Game was shocked. “Now those are some tense odds I can get behind.”

“Will you be making a bet?” she asked.

“Obviously.” He easily answered.

She waited a few moments but after realizing he wasn’t going to speak again, she spoke. “On?”

The Game’s face contorted in surprise as if the answer to her question was obvious. “Obviously, I have to put my money on the Apprentice. I have to stand by humanity even if it’s more for optimism than strategy.”

It took a while longer for the Game to decide how much of his life savings he would recklessly toss about in his gambling, but finally with the addictive stressing of the stakes he finally finished his business and headed back to the arena.

It did not take long of walking through the arena halls before he stumbled upon his potential money bag and doom. The young-looking Apprentice and his ever-perky girlfriend found themselves overshadowed by the overbearingly massive form of the Vampire. The incredibly tall mokoi was frowning at the two humans in disappointment. “So vhat do you do?”

The Apprentice tried his best to remain stoic before his challenger. “What do you mean?”

The Vampire sniffed at the air quickly covering his mouth to hide his gag. “I can’t zmell vhy you vould be in the Tournament.” The Vampire mulled over in his head a bit before speaking again. “Do you have an ancient artefact?”

“No.” The Apprentice answered plainly.

The Vampire grimaced at that. “Do you feel the zoul zea?”

“No.”

“Touch the ztrings of fate?”

“No.”

“Perfect muscle memory?”

“Nope.” The apprentice replied, heavily popping the p.

The Vampire sneered in annoyance. “Iz no the only anzwer you can give?”

“No.” The Apprentice answered with a small smile.

The Vampire opened his mouth to reply but hesitated as he thought over that answer. “I know you think you’re protecting your zecretz from me, but I can zmell your truths. You truly can’t do any of thoze things. There is nothing zpecial in your blood either.” The Vampire let out a large, disappointed sigh. “I thought zince I vas at THE Tournament it vould be different, but your blood izn’t even vorthy of drinking. It vouldn’t even be vorth killing you.” Without letting anyone answer he shook his head in sadness as he walked away with barely enough energy to lift his feet off the ground.

The Apprentice’s girlfriend nervously chuckled once the Vampire was out of sight. “Well at least he said he wasn’t going to kill you.”

The Apprentice clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. He stood up to the Vampire, held his ground and didn’t cower against the monster, yet he still felt so weak, so incapable before his might.

The Game, deciding he no longer wanted to remain as just a passive observer, approached the two kids. “Well that must have felt embarrassing.”

Picayune threw the Game an unappreciative glare before finally accepting that it was in fact embarrassing causing him to school his expression back into a forlorn misery. “What am I supposed to do? I’m a scholar not a fighter. Sure, I can make spells, build my own enchanted gear but that’s going to mean f-all when I freeze up at the sight of an eight foot giant charging for my blood.”

Belabor helpfully chimed in. “Well he did mention he actually didn’t care for your blood.” Or perhaps unhelpfully if Picayune’s glare was any indicator.

The Game tsked disappointed as he shook his head. “What you need kid is confidence and practice.”

Picayune rolled his eyes already succumbed to defeat. “And where am I supposed to get that?”

The Game simply smiled as he turned down the hall. “Follow me.”

Belabor uncomfortably called out to the disappearing back of the Game. “Actually, Picay and I were going to go on our date now. There’s this really neat restaurant I’ve been wanting to see with him.”

“Your date can wait.” He simply responded as he continued away.

Belabor threw her head back heaving out an exasperated sigh. “Again!?” Picayune grabbed Belabor’s hand and followed after the Game. Belabor slipped out a surprised eep as he pulled her along. “Ugh, really, we’re doing this? Where are we even going?” She didn’t get any response from the two Tournament contestants as they marched down the hall.

The three were making their way through the complex labyrinthian weave of the arena of Dionysus. The Game marched onward, unconcerned with the two teenagers struggling to keep up with his gait. Picayune eventually broke the silence. “Why are you even helping me? I mean I’m grateful, but aren’t we competitors?”

The Game laughed at the question. “Your fight means more than just a simple Tournament. You are humanity’s premier chance to finally wipe that villainous mokoi off the face of the planet.” Picayune hummed in acceptance at that answer even if he didn’t like how it reminded him of how powerful the Vampire was. The Game soon added after in a hurried mumbled voice. “Also, I’ve bet way too much money on you to allow you to lose.”

The trio finally stopped in front of a small pair of wooden doors and before either of the teenagers could comment on the unbeknownst gambling over their lives, the Game spoke up. “We’re here.”

The two teenagers could already hear Liederkranz’s loud voice echoing through the thin panels of the doors. “-and then when you suddenly teleported, I had to hold back so much to not clap in giddy excitement right then! That was so awesome!”

Poetaster’s voice soon followed after. “No way, you were so much cooler with all those magic arms. I still don’t know how you did that.”

The Game opened the door to the room allowing Liederkranz’s light laughter to catch his ears. “I’ll tell you how if you tell me how you teleported.”

Poetester laughed in return “Not a chance. But what was up with your obsession with that baton? I mean you can explode magic fists, what’s even the point?” Before Liederkranz had the chance to explain herself, the two then noticed the odd trio approach them. Liederkranz had never been a fan of the Game, there was something off about the guy, and she felt a motherly concern form for the two teenagers stuck with him. “Hey Picayune, Belabor. Everything okay?”

The Game only smirked at Liederkranz’s blatant disregard for him. “I want you to train Picayune.”

“What?” Liederkranz and Picayune both asked out in surprise.

The Game clarified. “It would seem that the chauffer has chosen our apprentice here for his theoretical knowledge; however, if he will stand any chance at standing up to the Vampire, he will need help to turn that theoretical knowledge into practical prowess. You were an actual soldier, weren’t you? So, you should be the best to help whip him into shape.”

No one said anything for a while letting the awkward silence hover around the room for a bit. “Okay.” Liederkranz simply answered.

“Really?” Picayune honestly wasn’t expecting the woman to so readily lend aid to a fellow competitor and was caught off guard by her answer.

“Sure.” She responded with a shrug. “You are going against one of history’s most evil antagonists. I should probably do my part for humanity and lend you some help.”

The Game’s smile widened already counting the profits in his head. “That’s the spirit.”

Picayune was overjoyed by the sudden turn of the day. “Thank you so much Mrs. Liederkranz!”

Liederkranz chuckled warmly as Picayune reminded her of her students. “You only have three weeks until your fight, so I’m not sure how helpful I can be, but I’ll do what I can.”

The Game stepped forward to remind everyone of his involvement in this whole ordeal. “Don’t worry, I can help with that.”

Poetaster pouted to being left out of the conversation. “Why don’t I get asked to partake in an awesome training montage?”

The Game answered almost apologetically to the famous stage actor. “Um sorry Poetaster but the kid needs more training in fighting and stress management. I don’t think he needs any magic tutoring. Your help won’t be required.”

Poetaster smirked eagerly. “Don’t be so sure about that.” Poetaster turned to face Picayune directly and asked, “How’s your light magic?”

Picayune looked at Poetaster confused by the off-topic question. “Um, it’s alright I guess, why do you ask?”

“The Vampire is weak to light. I could teach you my prismatic bolt. It would do far more damage than any normal arcane attack to that arrogant coot.”

Everyone in the room looked at Poetaster in half worried concern. “How do you know the Vampire is weak to light?”

Poetaster shrugged in what Liederkranz’s trained eyes recognized as avoidance. “We’ve had a few encounters before.” His answer only made Liederkranz more suspicious, but she chose to let that topic go for now as she focused on her new apprentice, which gave her an ironic smile as she remembered his name was in fact, the Apprentice.

Though Picayune was elated by this accepted proposal, Belabor, was anything but. “We’ll never get our date, will we?” She huffed out disappointed with a shake of her head.

Picayune rubbed her back apologetically “Sorry Bela, but you know that I have to do this.”

“Fine.” she grumbled unhappily, but under her personal dissatisfaction it was clear to tell that she was happy to see Picayune receive so much help and support on his daunting task. “But if you’re going to spend this much time prepping, you better win that match.”

Picayune gave her an insecure smile in reply. “I will.”

“Good.” She smiled back resolutely before walking towards the exit. “I’ll only get in the way of your work so I’m off.” She opened the door to the hall and paused briefly turning to face her boyfriend again. “And don’t you think you’ve somehow gotten out of our date! WE WILL have that date, even if it’s the last thing you ever do!” Belabor then quickly left before Picayune could possibly retort about how ominously foreshadowing that statement felt.

The Tournament contestants all watched the empty doors idly slide closed once more until the clicking sound of the door shutting woke Liederkranz from her stupor. “Alright!” She shot up from the soft couch she was laying on and started making her way towards the exit. “No time to waste, I’ll go ask Dionysus if we can borrow the arena and meet you there in a jiffy.”

Picayune, Poetaster, and the Game made their way over to the arena where Poetaster began the preliminary stages of teaching Picayune his prismatic bolt while waiting for Liederkranz to return. Though Picayune wasn’t given much time before Liederkranz arrived, he was already making surprising progress on the spell.

“Dionysus gave us the go ahead.” Liederkranz happily called over as she jogged up to the two.

Picayune smiled happily. “Great! So, what’s the plan? Are we going to start with some stretches or AH!” Picayune’s rambling was broken with his sudden shout of pain as his nose crumpled inwards leaving a thin trail of blood to describe his fall to the ground. His hands quickly cupped around his nose as he shouted out with a nasally accent to his voice. “What the heck was that!”

An evil smile formed on Liederkranz’s smooth face while she mused to herself. “So this must have been how captain Rem felt training us.” Her attention then turned back to Picayune pathetically folded on the ground. “First thing first, you’ll need to learn to predict the unseen movements of essence like its second nature.”

“Is that what you did?!” Picayune questioned a little angrily. “You punched me with those magic fists of yours?”

Liederkranz channeled her inner captain Rem as she remained completely stoic and apathetic to Picayune’s pain. “Fists you could have dodged if you felt for the sudden shift in essential pressure around you.”

“Or I could have just seen it with a vision rune like I used for your match with Poetaster and will obviously use again for my own match!”

Poeteaster stifled a laugh as Liederkranz blinked a few times struggling to hold her stern mentor face. “Oh… I didn’t think of that.”

Picayune slowly stood himself up pulling out a small jar of ointment from his pocket and started rubbing the lotion into a complex pattern around his eyes. As soon as he finished his drawing and pushed some essence through it. Ethereal arms were suddenly illuminated around Liederkranz.

The Game stepped in between Liederkranz and Picayune before they could get too carried away. “Alright, I’m happy that you’re so eager to help… or vent out some frustrations from your own training. But maybe let’s slow this down a little bit.”

Liederkranz chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, Rem would always start our training like that, and I just wanted to try it.”

“Always?” Poetaster asked worried.

Ignoring his question Liederkranz faced the Game. “So, you said you had a solution to our time restraint problem?”

The Game grew a mischievous smile which worried Picayune greatly. “My power allows me to manipulate the laws of the universe however I like under certain stipulations.”

Picayune blinked dumbfoundedly at this revelation while Liederkranz whistled impressed. “Glad I didn’t match up against you.”

The Game continued. “I would like to propose a game to you two. I call it cower for the hour. I will send you two to a micro-dimension stilted in time. For every hit Liederkranz successfully lands, ten minutes will pass in the real world. For every hour in the micro-dimension that passes, you will go back in time one hour in the real world, limited by the fact that you can’t go further back than when the game started of course. And lastly for every hour in the micro-dimension that passes without Picayune receiving a hit, he will be given the option to leave the micro-dimension and end the game.”

Everyone was gob smacked by the absolute authority of the Game’s power and Liederkranz couldn’t possibly fathom how he was still the underdog of his fight. The Game ignored their stunned looks and continued. “One of the limitations of my power is that the rules of the game must be respected or else it falls apart; this means that Liederkranz, you must try your best to hit Picayune as many times as possible every hour or else the game will automatically end and eject you from the micro-dimension. I also need everyone involved to agree to the terms of the game.”

Liederkranz’s smile returned to her face. “So basically, I’m going to beat Picayune to a pulp, and he’s going to try to not get hit?”

“Pretty much.”

Picayune blinked a couple times trying to register Liederkranz’s words. “Um, can I take back my training request?”

“No.” Then she punched him in the face.