Jok sat in his massive chair, staring at the room's many screens. It had been a dull few days.

Of the hundreds of millions of contestants that remained, less than ten million had managed to build a shelter. Almost every one of those shelters were small burrows or stacked up material with a boulder as the door.

"What's the breakdown on average structure Grades?" Jok asked. "Keep it simple. I only want the highest grade for each structure on the list. Ignore the other two."

[Structures Built: 10,827,336]

[F- : 9,909,023]

[F : 889,472]

[F+ : 27,629]

[D- : 1,193]

[D : 17]

[D+ : 2]

"A [D+] Grade this early into the Tournament?" He muttered. "Adjust the current Grades to show our Sector only."

[Structures Built: ]

[F- : 3,822]

[F : 97]

[F+ : 1]

"Well, it could be worse," Jok sighed. The numbers were average for their Sector, but the survivors' performance would have to increase if they wanted to avoid losing resources.

"Hmmm?"

One of the screens that he kept close by caught his eye. Jok pulled the screen in front of him and zoomed in.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," He chuckled.

On the screen, a man stood steady in front of a small shack. It was an above-average build for the materials available, and he even expected that it had been just a few points shy of F+.

Lucian Lane had his legs bent slightly, clutching a bone dagger in his hand and staring intently at one of the spatial covers that divided the Tiles.

Jok's nodded in approval. He still didn't have high hopes for the man, but at least he was showing some gusto!

Lucian was currently in the top percentile of their Sector's survivors, but that didn't mean much in the early stages. If he still held a similar position when the first significant milestone dropped, Jok would be willing to invest more resources into the man.

The resources that each Sector was allowed to invest per Tournament was limited and equal across the board regardless of how many contestants they were allowed to nominate.

This was to give the lower ranking Sectors a fighting chance, although they would still be at a significant disadvantage in the number and quality of contestants.

Jok watched the screen intently, waiting for the next Tile to be unveiled when a light cough came from his side.

"Ahem, Jok!"

The large man jumped in his seat at the proximity of the voice and quickly waved away the screen just as he heard a terrible growl.

"We were just getting to the good part," Jok complained. "Can't this wait?"

"Absolutely not!"

A short, stout woman with prominent, puffy cheeks stared up at Jok. She was barely over a meter tall and had pink skin. Two spiral antennae dangled from the sides of her head in place of ears.

She wore a grey uniform and had a badge attached with a single line less than his own. This small woman was the first Quartermaster of the Atlas, Pochan, who Jok had chosen himself many years ago.

"Is it true that you used a Microlink to awaken an [Initiate]?!" The woman persisted.

Jok scratched at the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly down at the little woman. He wasn't sure how to answer, but his reaction had been enough.

"You did!" Pochan hissed. "Why didn't you consult me first?! This was a terrible decision!"

The giant of a man sighed heavily, "Vetrus threatened to get rid of Mills if her guy didn't perform well this Tournament. I had to do something. Her guy wouldn't have made it past the first Wave!"

"Council Vice-Chancellor Vetrus?! This is precisely what he wanted!" Pochan whispered loudly. "You know he wants the Head-Chancellor seat and the best way for him to gain the votes is by proving that you're unfit as the Captain of the Atlas!"

"What was I supposed to do, Pochan?" Jok asked gloomily. "I couldn't just let Mills go like that. She would have never accepted my stepping down to retire with her."

"I know, Jok," Pochan reached above her head and patted the Captain's knee. She knew how he felt about Amelia.

Jok held his head in his hands and let out a long, frustrated sigh. Pochan didn't want to continue bothering him, but she had to know.

"What do you plan on doing when Dorkan finds out?" She asked hesitantly.

Jok removed his hands from his face and shook his head, "If you know, then so does he. That weasel has eyes everywhere."

"You're probably right," Pochan said. "I'll still do what I can to keep the information from getting out. Maybe I can buy us a month, and Amelia's choice will show promise by then."

She didn't believe her words, but she still smiled to help calm the man down. Pochan left the bridge awkwardly while the Captain smiled back awkwardly.

"Thank you, Pochan," Jok whispered.

The stout woman had always been on his side, and he was thankful for everything that the First Quartermaster had done for him.

Then there was Dorkan. That bastard had been placed as Second Quartermaster by Vetrus and his minions a couple of decades ago.

Since then, they'd been working to bring the Head-Chancellor and the Captain down. Though their methods were uncouth, there had never been proof that they'd done anything detrimental to the Sector, so nothing could be done.

"Alright, let's see how our fledgling warrior is doing," Jok sighed, pulling the screen back in front of him.

"Oh?!" He smiled broadly.

Lucian was standing over the large body of a kretor. The man was breathing heavily and had a few scrapes, but he was otherwise fine.

"Impressive," Jok said, rewinding the clip to see exactly how the battle had transpired.

As he watched, his eyes widened, and his grin broadened. He rewound the video countless times before leaning back in his chair.

"Maybe there's a light at the end of this, after all."