Since everyone’s routine remained relatively stable, months flew by rather quickly. In time, more people joined the group each of them contributing a certain skill set. There was a survival expert who prepared them in case their arena would change, and a Navy Seal who taught them to work as a unit.

Perhaps their most surprising and useful addition was an arms dealer with likely ties to the mob who spared no effort to arm them to the teeth. He then took down the boxing bags to create an impromptu shooting range on one side of the gym.

Soon, the wall became riddled with holes. The police and even a swat team paid them visits, but after a bit of talking, they would always glitch out and leave.

“See?” said Colton, their arms dealer. “You just ask a bunch of questions, give them a kiss, and they break down like my old van.” While Alric didn’t want to give credit to a guy dressed like scarface, kissing a clone on the cheek was surprisingly effective.

It was already six months into their training, but they could finally begin practicing with guns. With Colton and the Navy Seal’s help, they progressed rapidly. And, thanks to Rachel’s limitless credit card, they managed to equip everyone with the very best combat gear the market had to offer.

As for Timofey, although he participated in drills and training, the pixie became somewhat of an outcast. Nobody would talk to him, and he wouldn’t talk to anybody.

Jason, the Navy Seal, wanted to get equipment for him too, but Timofey straight up refused. Instead, he used his newly found passion for hacking to obtain these things on his own.

At the beginning of month eight, he turned the attic into his own private area, and began creating miniatures clothes and weapons in case only his body would shrink. ‘That a-hole demon wouldn’t make me fight naked, would he?’

Despite this and various other hiccups along the way, those lucky enough to have trained at the mansion were thankful for their experience. The teachers did their best to turn them into fighters, and although a year was nowhere near enough time for such a task, they were still much better off than in the beginning.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

On March 2nd 2020, giant speakers were pulled into the backyard for the celebration of a lifetime. Tables and chairs were brought from all over the mansion. A truckload of burgers and booze was bought in advance. The Olympic pool was now a place for volley ball, and just 20 feet behind it, a giant bonfire lit up the sky.

“Brothers and sisters, friends whom I now call family,” a more than tipsy Anders, dressed like Conan the barbarian, began his speech. “Whatever tomorrow brings us, we will face it together!”

“Of course!” the crowd responded. They were all dressed in extravagant costumes “borrowed” from the nearby Hollywood.

“We will defeat the stuffy dwarves, smash those elfish bastards, squash them fairies, kill…”

Colton took away the mic while several others convinced the giant to sit down.

“What he meant to say is tomorrow we fight, but today we party! Let us thank Rachel for bringing us together, and for this one night, put our worries aside.”

“Cheers!”

The gangster was surprisingly well spoken. Maybe, dressing up like Elvis gave him confidence.

As everyone became more and more tipsy, they started dancing around the swimming pool, inside it, dangling from the obstacle course, you name it.

As if to release the past year’s worries, Timofey, dressed in a green fairy costume, joined them in guzzling one beer after another. Finn was trying to stop the 12 year old boy, but where the adults had failed, he would not succeed.

As for Alric, this was the first party he attended since his aunt had married six years ago. The alcohol had amplified his nerves, so the youth walked over to the only other person who seemed to feel the same.

“Why... aren’t you dancing? Or drinking?” he asked Rachel who was resting her back on the side of the gym.

“Sit.” The wobbling teen was blocking her view. “I’m not much into drinking. It’s bad for your body.”

Partially due to the alcohol and partially to not fall over, Alric didn't move an inch. He was dressed like Sherlock Holmes. She was dressed like Wonder Woman.

“All things… should be done in moderation,” he began while sipping on a tobacco-less pipe. “That does not mean… you should not drink. In fact, it’s quite the opposite…”

For some odd reason, Rachel found this drunken, finger waving, Alric endearing. The young workaholic looked free of worries for the first time since she'd met him.

“So, you see, dear Rae Rae, dancing is an expression of oneself.”

“Show me,” she said with a wink.

“Huh?” the youth wasn’t quite prepared for this answer.

“Teach me how to dance.”

Feeling his cheeks turn redder than they already were, Alric stumbled for a bit and his mind became clear. Yet, even though he was just as clueless when it came to dancing as the girl he was supposed to teach, he still extended a shaky hand.

“Sure.”

...........................................................

Everyone’s strict diets and training during the past year gave them more than enough energy to party for hours on end. Alric was clumsy and Rachel was clueless, yet the two kept dancing for most of the night.

Eventually, everyone’s chiseled muscles could no longer process the sheer amount of booze they had ingested, and they started tapping out one by one. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the pixie stuck in a child’s body was the first one to go.

After bringing blankets and pillows for the unconscious adults and taking Timofey and Finn to their rooms, the few remaining comrades gathered around a table to finish the last bottle of champaign.

“This one’s on you,” muttered an exhausted Emma while pushing the bottle towards Rachel.

“Do not force her,” said Anders while slobbering. “She… she needs to stay sharp, and… show that demon bastards what’s what.”

“Isn’t that your job?” somebody asked while chuckling.

“No,” the giant struggled to reply. “That’s not why I've joined the tournament.” For some reason, Anders’ mood turned slightly sour. Unfortunately, most those present were too drunk to notice it.

“Hey, that’s a great idea,” a man dressed like batman cut in. “How about we all say why we clicked accept? And, like, do you regret it?”

One by one, people started sharing. Their reasons were mostly shallow, and most of them wanted to go back. When Anders’ turn came up, he excused himself and left towards the mansion. Several others followed after claiming to be tired.

“Rae, why did you join?” someone asked a few minutes later. Normally, the thrill seeking girl would have answered easily. However, she was sober enough to notice the expressions made by those who left. She also knew a few of their stories.

“I made a dumb decision out of boredom,” she said in a flat tone. “I don’t regret it, but it was stupid nonetheless.”

Everyone nodded with looks of admiration, which only filled her with shame. To avoid their eyes, Rachel turned towards Alric who’d been silent up until now.

“What about you?”

The boy expected this question, yet he still flinched. Too drunk to care about anything, he spoke honestly.

“I regret joining. I had a good life, ok parents, a super cute cat, and… My girlfriend dumped me, but she was annoying anyway… I messed up an exam, but so what?”

Rachel placed a hand on his shoulder, but the flood gates were already open.

“I was working my hardest to become a lawyer, to be like mom… But, I’ve missed a year of studies, so that’s gone. I didn’t get past the chess regionals… Heck, I can barely remember how to open a game.

And, not only did I screw up my life and left my family without a son, but there’s now another me out there who will f**king die so long as I keep living.”

Everyone was so focused on surviving the tournament that they were forgetting about the people who wouldn’t as a result. The more they struggled to win, the closer their alters were getting towards death.

“I can’t just kill myself,” Alric muttered while staring at the table. “And, everyone is suffering because of it.”

After the youth’s speech, nobody wanted to stick around anymore. One by one, they made excuses or simply left without a word. Once alone, Rachel opened the untouched bottle of champaign and filled two glasses to the brim.

“Nobody can blame you for wanting to live,” she said before downing one of them. “To fix your mistakes, you need to keep going.”