Yeung-Sung held the phone closer, gripped it tighter but still the murmurs that circled the table would not fade, and he could not immerse himself as deep as he wanted to into Airgead.

“What if he fails –” he overheard among the myriad whispers.

“What if he succeeds,” was often snapped back, “Then how do we look?”

They think I don’t know the stakes? I know -Don’t tell me the stakes! I know them more than any of you could. None of you have seen Jordan’s fury as I have. Most of you don’t believe what he said, probably think it’s hyperbole, something to get us motivated to cross the finish line of the experiment. You people, so concerned about your own image…even if you think he means ‘kill’ as in ’dead’, that surely that doesn’t apply to you.

None of us are on his side; That’s what you don’t know. That’s why I’m the one in charge of this Gauntlet.

Shutting them out, Yeung-Sung felt for his injuries. They were not actively sore for they were not fresh, but instead felt like just another layer of bark. One that he was beginning to outgrow, and cover up with new experiences, with lessons well learned and understood. But being to feel that pain, dormant as it may have been, helped him feel alone at last.

Let’s give this a try, he thought. He entered the Gauntlet.

Just like the warnings said, he was immediately surrounded. Packs of the barbarians -along with some members of PM- blared their battle cries through the phone’s speakers. But unlike the coloners, these did not make him anxious, nor did they make him afraid. In fact, it was quite refreshing to deal with targets that were designated ‘enemies’ -nothing more complex. Nothing that had to be danced around, deceived for a time. Something, thankfully not human that he could simply kill. Or they’d kill his avatar.

His avatar was unrecognisable now. Where before he tread upright in a light tunic, bearing a pair of potion-filled satchels, he now found himself slouching with the burden of all of the PM equipment he had brought, most noticeable of which was the giant oval shield.

The instant combat started, the moment Yeung-Sung could act, the barbarians began to whirlpool in formation, circling closer in groups of six. Not focused on the exact placement, his avatar thrust the man-sized shield into the earth in front of him. Then, unhooking one of his bags he planted several throwing spears at the sides of the shield in a makeshift wall. With that weight loosened, the avatar could at least move around a bit -though he still carried a pocket-satchel of potions, three glowing short-bladed weapons, their sheaths partly hidden by the thick chest piece that Leslie had just crafted for him.

The avatar ran his hand over the protruding armor in awe, feeling the brush of textures of the strange jade enchantment that grew on the thing like moss. As he was getting used to owning something of such high craftsmanship, the first hail of arrows and hatchets assaulted him.

Pulling the shield hard against the ground, the avatar pivoted it to stop the first attack, but the barbarians quickly adjusted, and the next two volleys came from opposite sides, simultaneously.

The first group had closed in by the time the third volley landed. Though he had managed to block the first one entirely, he was caught twice on each of the other volleys. Three he directed into his chest plate, and the last one at one of his bracers, snapping the thing like a wishbone.

As pieces of it cracked underfoot, Yeung-Sung noticed the smaller part of the broken thing fall off. He smiled, saying, “So it begins.”

Peering out from the shield, he searched for any effects: One group’s shield bearer was snagged inside a tower of vines that suspended him several feet in the air. Smiling, the avatar fist-bumped his chest plate, which was slowly regaining much of its green lustre. While shocked, the rest of the group of Celts continued their slow encroachment. A shield bearer from the group behind them in the rotation ran over to try prying back the branches.

I guess you don’t need him anyway?

The barbarians however, looked unsettled with two of their protectors occupied. They glanced towards their robed druids as the shield bearer screams were stifled by greenery, as if they had somehow upset Nature.

Excellent, I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. I hadn’t considered that the trap could also hurt them.

Another arrow. Another bracelet snapped. Yeung-Sung took the golden hand-indicator on his screen and ran it over his avatar’s chest piece. Dust seeped out of it like a broken hourglass and the perforated parts of the metal popped out again.

Good as new.

Just as he had the thought, another arrow slipped through his defence and embedded itself within the chest plate, sizzling and smoking where it hit. The jade-coloured blessing was triggered again, ensnaring another hapless barbarian before fading from existence.

But, Yeung-Sung realised, that wasn’t a regular arrow. Poisoned?

Cheeky, MEDB, very cheeky.

Yeung-Sung noticed some odd noises that weren’t coming from Airgead. He looked round to where the Ooohs and Ahhs came from to find an assembly in the foyer outside ‘General’, in front of the elevators, staring up.

“The fight is on the big screen,” Luke explained. “We learned something else, yesterday, too, you see.”

But the only one who knows you could view other payers’ runs’ is…Wil!

“How did you…”

Luke wagged a finger. “Not now,” he said, rolling his neck around in his collar, “the Gauntlet comes first.”

When the first group of barbarians got to within melee range, the cycle continued. Hit to the chest plate; Snare another Celt; A hit to break the bracelet; The chest plate repaired. At five snares in, an assassin put a hand out, stopping his ally mid-swing.

“I think they’ve made the connection between the snares and their attacks,” Yeung-Sung admitted to the table.

The main group of officers -Vanessa, Amber, Kelly-Ann and Leslie- as well as Shirley were huddled around his screen.

“What’ll they do now?” asked Shirley.

Dropping a dead stare, the barbarians backed away their guards still up. Once the cell was whole again, they slotted back inside the rotation, staying equidistant from the avatar.

Yeung-Sung groaned, and let his head fall to the table. The officers gasped.

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked Shirley.

“No way, that’s it?” said Leslie.

“Is it over?” Vanessa asked.

Rattling the drinks, Luke straddled his side of the table, far away from the group. “Hah! The AI has figured out your plan! You need them to attack you for your enchantment to work, so they’ll just stall it out until their druids are ready to incinerate you.”

I didn’t think MEDB would figure out a counter before I even finished the stage. No…

He felt something small grip his shoulder. It was Amber Moon.

“It was a good plan, Yeung-Sung, even if it failed.” She bowed. “You have to tell me how you discovered that the bracelets had a repair enchantment without testing them. Amazing!”

“I will,” Yeung-Sung promised, putting down his phone gently on the table. “I knew it was a longshot, after all.”

Swilling wine, Luke was roaring in laughter at anyone who would listen, “I knew it! Of course he couldn’t do it! In just one day, come on, how arrogant do you have to be?”

A second hand crept over Yeung-Sung’s shoulder.

“It’s alright.”

It was Shirley, standing over him, his hand trembling, but imparting its warmth. However, it seemed like Shirley was the who needed comforting, so Yeung-Sung stopped time on the Gauntlet and put his across his shoulder, on top of Shirley’s and smiled up at him.

“It’s fine, Shirley,” he said, “We’ll defeat it, this is only a setback, we’re only… gathering information.”

Rubbing his cheeks into Shirley as they hugged, the cracks of pain that lay dormant broke through. His throat was being dragged out from underneath, he could hardly breathe out a reply when Shirley said,

“But this can’t be the extent of your planning. I know you.” Holding Yeung-Sung forward he shook him enough that he would take what he said seriously, and not as commiserative bullshit. “You wouldn’t let yourself become a slave to PM just like that.” He turned him over to face Airgead. “It’s not over yet.”

Kelly-Ann cut in. “Isn’t it?”

Luke threw his empty wine glass into the air. “That’s a good boy, go through the motions, believe you can still pull it off.” He plopped back in his chair. “It’s only satisfying if you struggle.”

Would you shut up?

“Hey,” called Vanessa, “If you were able to figure out how to survive against thirty of them, being able to take them out shouldn’t be that hard.”

Thanking his friends, Yeung-Sung settled in front of his screen.

All in all, this scenario is something I should’ve considered.

In the Gauntlet, even the far archers put away their bows as the message was spread; Their shots no longer available to use as a trigger for his ensnaring blessing. Some of them followed the rotation of tight groups. Others had taken out short knives and tried to hack out the remaining barbs still alive within the pillars of vines.

The archers; they are hiding them.

“Umm, Yeung-Sung?” Amber Moon quietly chimed in, “Maybe if we converse together, we can figure a way out of this.”

“Yeah, I guess,” said Yeung-Sung, blushing, “I’m so used to –"

He shook his head. She’s right.

“Umm, see the way they have their formations? They’re hiding the druids behind them while they channel their magic.”

Keeping time dilated at minimum, he zoomed the camera out and showed them the composition of each group; A shielder, two archers, a tank and the nuker.

“There’s five of them among the groups, but the way they are moving makes it hard to pick out where. I might be able to survive one, but even two at a time would almost certainly kill me.”

“The nukers, yeah, that would make sense,” said Vanessa. “Eh, why didn’t you just ensnare them in the first place? If they are the real danger?”

Yeung-Sung looked back to Airgead without responding to her, opening up his potion satchel. He counted them against the twenty-five remaining barbarians. It’s not enough. I’ll have to whittle them down a bit to make my chances better.

His avatar stepped forward to intercept a group, to the shock of their leading tank. In the time dilation, he unhooked his sickle and dug it into the side of the Celt’s neck.

It didn’t go through. It took the shining avatar another weighty swing to pull it out, the tank swooning and spurting blood. Stumbling over the body, the avatar looked around at the others. The clenched their teeth, clearly holding themselves back while eyeing the avatar’s swirling blessed chest piece. They scattered from him.

Shit! I need to be quick and take out a few more before MEDB changes their tactics again.

Throwing out an attack line, his avatar gave chase as Shirley patted his shoulder.

“I guess they didn’t expect you to just start slicing.”

“Five in twenty-four chance,” Yeung-Sung muttered.

Seeing his concentrated face, Kelly-Ann snapped at the other officials.

“What’s he counting? Five in twenty-four?” She paced around their huddle, Shirley keeping her at a slight distance.

Luke stroked his chin. Flexing his shoulders, he answered for them.

“Whatever it is, that’s only a twenty percent chance.” Falling back in his seat, he crossed his legs over the tabletop. “Not very goo-ood odds for you.”

Vanessa leaned over Yeung-Sung, thinking. “Something to do with the Celts in the traps, I think,” she said.

A few other shrugged, happy enough with the vague answer, but Amber was staring intently at the screen with a smirk. Extending time dilation to the limit, Yeung-Sung folded his arms and nodded toward her.

“Go on then,” he said, “Tell them, Amber.”

She leapt back, hitting Vanessa’s side. She shook her head in strict refusal, but seconds later the expectant faces around her remained and she bit her lip, saying, “Yeung-Sung can’t control the trap. It’s random.”

“Ohh,” went the huddle.

“Hah, I see,” admitted Vanessa.

Once Yeung-Sung confirmed her observation, Amber stood straighter, projecting her voice.

“And since nukers are the biggest threat,” she continued, “He needs to guarantee the blessings hits them. Five nukers in the twenty-four enemies; Five in Twenty-four.”

Most were re-assured by the explanation, but the low chance didn’t change what Yeung-Sung had to do. And Luke? He only laughed harder.

“So, you’re going to cut through another twenty of them? Good luck!”