The balaam kept an eye on me as they skirted across the jagged top of the broken wall. I held my knife close. Toll was unarmed, but I expected them to pull out another weapon, or just hop down and scratch me up with their clawed feet. I was breathing so hard I thought I’d pass out, and every muscle in my body ached. If Toll decided to fight, that little knife in my hand wouldn’t do anything.

Puffing their feathers up, Toll hopped down onto the stairs a distance away from me. I tensed up but didn’t raise the knife, not wanting to show fear. Then casually descended the stairs, not bothering to check if there were more digressers. They had probably been watching the field whole time and counting every digresser that was approaching. Despite that, the demon had just let me fight.

Now that I think back on it, the whole thing was a setup. A terrible weapon left lying in the open to bait in a potential victim, and a demon perched up high watching someone struggle, waiting for them to bring the digressers in so they could kill them in a single strike. I got played.

Once Toll reached the spear that was protruding from the bottom of the wall, they tugged it out and pressed it against their shoulder, pointing the carved tip to the sky. Still catching my breath, I decided it would be safest to move closer, since I knew exactly what that rabdos was capable of at range.

Briary, Class 6-A. When thrown, it rapidly grows sharp thorns that hunt down anything resembling a demon within ten metres. That includes the wielder and, sometimes, humans, though we tend to be more collateral than anything else. As a subclass A, for Aware, it acts of its own accord. Aware rabdoses are dangerous no matter who wields them. Fail to wield them correctly and it’s just as likely to kill you as anyone else. Briary is exhibit number one.

The question was, had Toll intentionally thrown it that close to me, hoping to catch me in the blast, or did they throw it at the mob of digressers and didn’t care if Briary caught me too.

Oh, how I so wanted to ask. After all, demons don’t lie, so a refusal to answer was as much an admission as an honest answer. However, that would have been a mistake. Toll was a balaam, after all, and questions were a balaam’s game.

I sat at the top of the lowest flight of stairs, which by this point was more exposed rebar than concrete. Then another one of those annoying popups got in my face.

Points: 9

For killing digressers, no doubt. Something good, at least, in this terrible day. I decided now was as fine a chance as ever to take a quick break. Toll was sitting atop the concrete slab at the bottom of the stairwell, now pitted from digresser attacks, and scanning the area for more potential attacks. Or just waiting for me to get down there so they could kill me. Either way, I needed to catch my breath.

I took my tie off and lifted up my leg where I’d been clipped by the digresser. Fortunately, it wasn’t bleeding too badly, but there was a steady trickle of blood running down my leg which my racing heart was no doubt helping to make flow more smoothly. Thanks, heart. Getting all that blood pumping to save my life, only to help me bleed out faster! I bound the wound using the tie as a makeshift bandage.

The worst part about my outfit was the discomfort it brought. I was still wearing the lazy brown suit that I’d worn to court. The demons threw me straight into the Culling after my sentencing, not seeing the value in keeping a human clean. I shouldn’t have even bothered wearing a suit. I was going to be found guilty no matter what, so what was the use of looking prim and proper? The judge didn’t deserve that respect, either. After all, he was a demon, and I’d just committed a very obvious act of demon slaying.

My leg taken care of, it was time to check out this floating window system the administrators had blessed us with. Given how similar the popup boxes were to those shown to viewers on livestreams and websites, we probably also had access to status windows.

I mentally pictured one of the status screens that they televised for Culling participants. Sure enough, it popped up, looking exactly like what you’d see during the livestream.

[Name]: Algier

[Canto]: Human

[Points]: 9

[Ash]: 0/100

[Corruption]: 2

[Stats]:

Strength: Human

Agility: Human

Intelligence: Human

Speed: Human

Finesse: Human

Toughness: Human

I blinked once at the stat screen. Twice. Those stat values were blatantly insulting. What, was I so weak I didn’t even deserve an F to A rating? Oh well, didn’t matter. Not like stats actually meant anything. They were just a quantification that the administrators assigned to participants.

Nobody ever won the Culling off stats; the audience is just obsessed over them and the administrators blindly oblige in pursuit of higher ratings. Many idiots, demons mostly, think they can bet on who will win based upon numbers alone. However, anyone who bothers to make a study of the Culling quickly realises that the tournament is won on points and rabdoses, and not much else. To get those, strength is not enough, nor is it required. Sometimes you need wit and cunning. Sometimes you just need to be lucky.

I gestured towards Toll’s weapon. “Good throw, but you could have helped earlier.”

Toll locked an eye on me. “You were too close to the digressers, and they were too far apart.”

“So you waited for someone to bait them.” Not a question but a statement.

The balaam’s head cocked as they eyed me. “I waited for the optimal moment.”

Toll stood from their place on the slab in the middle of ruins and dusted off their brown robe. Their plain coverings were thick and bulky, and tattered at the hem. The balaam fixed me with both eyes. I almost shuddered at the creepy look they gave me.

“Would you have preferred I threw my weapon sooner?”

I scoffed, acting dismissive. “I would have preferred that you didn’t use me for point scoring.”

“And yet, isn’t that the intent of the Ring?”

They were right. I wasn’t entertaining the idea, though. “No, it’s for alliances,” I stated.

“Would you wish to form one?”

“That depends on your intent.”

“It would be in my advantage.”

“Then it depends on how likely you are to betray me.”

Silence. We spent a good minute staring at each other, sizing each other up like prey. Though, in this case, I was the smaller of the two, figuratively and literally as Toll stood a full twenty centimetres over me, nubby horns excluded. They looked even taller as their crest rose and fell periodically. Their height wasn’t the issue. Rather, it was that Toll wasn’t giving direct answers.

That could have meant two things. One, they were trying to elicit a question from me and get me to play their game, or two, they were keeping something hidden. Demons don’t lie, but the stronger ones can obscure the truth. Toll seemed very strong.

Still, I needed an alliance. Going it alone was a death sentence for a human. I’d hoped to find Berlin since I figured we humans could band together. Plus, I had some questions for her. Unfortunately, the first Ring was always the largest, and they got progressively smaller each round. There was little chance I’d find her in this mess.

See, the Ring of Betrayal is the one that usually ends up in the most participants getting eliminated. The reason is the passing condition. In order to move to the next Ring, you need to find the exit (a difficult task) then pay five hundred points to leave (an even more difficult task). At a rate of one point per digresser erasure, it took a long time to accumulate points.

Therefore, the most obvious way to gain points is to hunt down other participants. If you score the elimination, you get all their points. The problem was that that is even riskier and takes a long time also. Say you eliminate a demon early on and, unknown to you, they only have five points. Then you’ve taken a risk for a number of points that you could have easily mopped up from digressers with a good rabdos.

Hence, a method of passing exists that inspired the Ring’s namesake, and it’s by far the least favourable way to go about it. Participants can form parties. These parties have only one limitation and benefit, and that’s point sharing. All points go into a joint pool which can be used to pay the exit fee. Awesome. Except for the fact that if one of the party members happens to meet an untimely elimination, the remaining party members keep their points. Repeat often enough and one participant could soon find themselves the sole inheritors of a thousand or so points.

A side note: I’m aware that when I use the word “eliminated”, it makes everything sound fun and inconsequential. It’s a by-product of demon literalness. Since you erase a demon and kill a human, it became a bit of a mouthful to say “erase or kill”. The term “cull” was considered, but surveys showed that humans hated the word. Therefore, the term “eliminated” was adopted. Make no mistake, when you’re eliminated, you’re gone. Permanently.

I faced away from Toll and idly brushed my thumb across my knife, treating the demon like they weren’t worth my time. They had every opportunity to kill me and didn’t take it. Regardless of their reasons, Toll needed me alive. I thought I’d take advantage of that.

“Alright,” I announced. I groaned as I pushed up from the stairs. “Time to walk.”

Without waiting for Toll to respond I hopped down from the stairs and stumbled down the carved-out mound of rubble, letting momentum carry me down. Once in the field, I started east. My legs weren’t happy being put to work so soon.

Toll didn’t protest, they simply followed, spear pressed to shoulder and bobbed after me.

We’d been walking for hours, and Toll hadn’t shut up the entire time. I’d had to deal with a constant barrage of questions, and my answers had been getting more and more outrageous.

“Where are we heading?” Toll asked.

“Singapore.” I answered. “Our flight is in this direction.”

“Have you considered my proposal for an alliance?”

“Nope. Never even thought about it. Too busy thinking about eating snails.”

We passed across the field, keeping our eyes on the long grass for any blank spots. We passed by a few sinuous streaks of missing grass, but they all went on for ages so I figured the digressers had moved through here already. That didn’t make it any less anxiety-inducing.

Even more fortunate was the fact we hadn’t encountered any other demons. With how much noise we were making I figured it was only a matter of time. I’d pointed that out to Toll on occasion, but they didn’t seem to care. Like they didn’t care if they got into a fight or something. That made sense given they had Briary.

They were pissing me off. By now I’d realised that what Toll wanted was for me to ask them some questions. I’d started walking to keep them on the tips of their claws, to let them know who was in charge. But now? The barrage of questions, the constant noise that could attract more attackers, and the fact that I had a pathetic excuse of a weapon meant I was the one who was walking on their toes.

Toll maintained a steady distance behind me, their golden eyes fixed onto my back. It made my skin crawl. “Do you have any idea where the exit is?” they asked.

“I already told you that it’s somewhere up my asshole,” I said through gritted teeth.

“What is your plan, Algier? You haven’t shared it.”

“My plan is to keep walking in this direction until you shut up!” Ironically, that was the truth. Realising what I’d done, I clicked my tongue and walked a little faster.

I didn’t have a plan. There was no guarantee that Toll wouldn’t gut me later if we became allies, and they’d refused to be clear on what their intent was whenever I’d prodded them for information. All I could do was keep walking.

Toll shuffled up a little closer and spoke softly. “Have you used ash before?”

I opened my mouth to speak a lie, then caught myself. Aside from the last question, I’d been answering only with lies. Toll realised that. However, the questions Toll had been asking had all been open ended. This was a yes or no question, meaning that if I lied, Toll would take the opposite as the truth. So I needed to tell the truth this time, but if I did I’d be walking into Toll’s game.

I’d said earlier that balaams traded questions, but as with all demons there’s far more to it than simple games. If you ask a balaam a question, they’ll give you a true answer, so long as the answer is within their ability to speak it. And that ability could stretch into the divine.

Say I was to ask Toll the colour of Berlin’s underwear. If Toll was strong enough, they’d give the correct answer. They didn’t need to see it to know; depending on the strength of the balaam, how secretive the answer was, and who was asking, they’d simply know.

Humans, in particular, made a balaam’s power extra potent. If I’d asked Toll who Berlin’s first crush was, they’d tell me it was a boy named Lyon who once promised he’d run away with Berlin. However, if another demon did, they’d get something vague in response.

But demons never act out of the kindness of their non-existent hearts. For every question a balaam is asked, they get to ask one in return. And when they cash in that question, you always give a truthful answer, to the best of your knowledge. Hence, I made a habit of lying to be sure I wasn’t being compelled. If I tried to lie and couldn’t, then I’d know Toll was cashing in a question.

I was about to give a sarcastic remark, but froze when I spotted furrows in the grass. Many, and seeming to point towards a tree line in the distance. They were moving towards something, I concluded. An opportunity to score some points.

“No more talking,” I said, then stumbled off towards the tree line. My legs were on the verge of cramping.

Toll, of course, ignored my demand. “Have you used ash before?” they repeated, expecting an answer.

I said nothing. My attention was fixed entirely on the grass.

“Have you killed more than one demon?”

By this point I was considering utilising the noise Toll created. If they attracted digressers, I could have used the chaos of the fight to steal Briary. Then I could stand back and throw and impale the annoying bastard along with a bunch of digressers. However, given the difference in strength between a balaam and a human, that was nothing but a pipe dream.

A longer pause from the balaam. “Did you see where the digressers are going?”

Okay, so they’d noticed too and were just screwing with me. Fantastic. My only advantage was non-existent. I needed to push back.

I rounded on Toll. They paused mid step and watched me with those sharp, expressionless eagle eyes. If they’d been caught off guard, they didn’t show it.

“Alright you fucking peacock,” I snapped. “Here’s your question. Humans sleep, demons don’t. When I go to sleep tonight, will you protect me?”

It was impossible to tell what was going on in Toll’s bird brain, but I’d been with them long enough to know they were thinking long and hard about that question. As they should. I was rather proud of that question.

If Toll answered truthfully, I’d owe them a question, and that’s what they wanted. The problem was, if the answer was no, they’d lose their question generator because there was no chance I’d stick around with a demon who’d put a spear through me while I was sleeping. Maybe they’d kill me if that were the case, but a human with only a few points was more valuable to a balaam alive rather than dead.

If the answer was no, then it would be better for Toll to dodge it. But if they did, it would be a dead giveaway. I’d get my answer, and Toll wouldn’t get their question. On the other hand, if toll answered yes, there’d be no reason to dodge. I would get my protection and they’d get their question. Win-win. Nothing to think about.

When meant that every second that ticked by was pushing us towards “no”. A wait would be confirmation that Toll was thinking about the answer, which meant that the obvious yes was off the table.

A breeze had picked up and tufts of loose grass that we’d kicked up in our travel flew on by, occasionally disconnecting our locked gazes. Neither of us were backing down. I was almost certain the answer had been implied, but there was something fierce in their gaze that made me doubt. My jaw locked up. My knuckles went white around the handle of my knife. I was ready to strike, to close the short distance between us, too short for Briary to be safe to throw.

A thought occurred to me. What if Toll was faking out the wait? Say they intended to answer yes, but were pretending to wait so they could fool me into thinking the answer was no. In that case, I’d be assuming myself to be in far greater danger than what I was. Then Toll could potentially make me buy my protection using questions.

Realistically, I needed Toll far more than they needed me. The digressers made no noise and it was too dark for me to see them at night. There was nobody else who could watch over me. Not that I knew, anyway. Not one who hadn’t tried to kill me already. Unless Toll’s answer was a flat, “I’ll kill you in your sleep tonight,” wouldn’t I have taken that risk? If this was all an elaborate game, if I was playing to Toll’s tune…

But I doubted that possibility. If Toll were intentionally faking an answer, that would be tantamount to a lie. Back then I’d thought demons couldn’t do something like that. Now I know better.

A scream carried from the trees where the digresser trails led. Eyes still trained on each other, we both knew what the other would do, and we both didn’t want the other to win. Together, we sprinted for the tree line.

I didn’t get my answer.