Alistair woke up to more bruises than he’d ever seen in his life. His back and stomach were completely purple and blotchy, and he had two black eyes and a couple of missing teeth. But he was still alive and kicking, which was more than he could say for the naga gangsters back in his cell.

He was originally afraid of being prosecuted for killing people in jail, but the producers of the show waved their hands and it was like nothing ever happened. His recollection of the event was fuzzy, and his clearest memory of the jail cell was waking up in a puddle of blood to a well-dressed woman tapping his cheek. She had him cleaned up and sent to a professional healer, and explained that he was never in any real danger and that a cameraman tracked him the entire time.

Somehow, Alistair felt that if he had kept his terrible Karma, not even the oversight of Felons vs. Fellows would have been able to save him. Speaking of Karma, he checked his status screen, finding a nice +1. It seemed that Karma had an unfair distribution. While he had his bouts of good fortune, having 10 positive Karma never gave him any concrete feelings of luck, while 10 negative Karma brought on misfortune almost immediately.

The producer brought him to a pleasant hotel, putting him in a room for the night. The next day, he expected to wake up to beautiful red silk bed curtains and the ostentatious geometric patterns in the wood of his bed frame and windows, but he instead heard sirens blasting.

Alistair emitted an unbecoming sound as he woke up in a jolt, nearly falling off the bench underneath him. Looking around, many of his peers did the same. He found himself in a large mess hall with hundreds of tables lined with people.

“Welcome to the second round of Felons vs. Fellows! Congratulations on making it past the first round, which is not an easy task. Out of the fifty thousand initial contestants, only one thousand made it past the first round, our judges taking only the most qualified participants.”

The announcer from before once again descended from the sky. Alistair thought it was getting trite. How many more times would he hide on the ceiling and fly down for dramatic effect?

“My name is Po Shaido and I am the host of Felons vs. Fellow. You may be wondering why all one thousand of you were teleported into this large hall,” he said, gesturing to the fifty-meter tall dome above. “For the second round, you will hunt for treasure on an abandoned island in teams of six.”

Shaido opened his hand, and a projection of a tropical island appeared. “Dragon’s Den Island is five hundred square kilometers in area and contains a beach, volcano, forest, and many more geographic locations.”

Red X’s appeared at set locations around the island. “There are stockpiles of treasure at a handful of unknown locations on the island. Your goal is to find and retain said stockpiles for the duration of a week. You can already imagine the different strategies you can employ. Should you hunt for treasure early on, or wait until the end and steal it from a weaker opponent? All choices have their own merits.”

“Other teams aren’t your own problem, however. Fifty of some of the Final Frontier Empire’s most heinous criminals will be hunting you, along with the natural predators of the island. Hint: they’re in the name. Since you lot have made it this far, we’ve decided to give you a silver escape token. Please check your pockets or bags.”

Alistair reached into the pocket of his robes, finding a small silver token.

“If you ever feel in mortal danger, break this token in half and you’ll return to Faxor, unharmed. It’s a one-way ticket, and you completely void your participation in the show and any potential prizes. Oh wait, did I mention prizes?”

Shaido smiled as he knew that the mention of prizes secured everyone’s rapt attention. “We’ve already given out exclusive items for those who performed extraordinarily well in the first round. For all subsequent rounds, the top performers will also receive a reward. But as you might have guessed, the overall winner receives the best prize. For the champion of Felons vs Fellows, awaits the ultra-limited, one-of-a-kind Mythical rarity ‘One Above Many’ Badge, granting a permanent 7% bonus to cultivation speed and 25% to all stats. We’re talking about the kind of Badge people would kill for.”

“Now that I’ve explained everything, it’s time for team selection. After some discussion with the producers, we’ve decided on partial randomization. Our AI program will create balanced teams, but also maximize entertainment value.”

Alistair had a bad feeling about the last part of the host’s sentence, particularly the way he emphasized entertainment value. He had a couple of theories on how they would execute that, and none of them sounded good.

“Sorry to change the scenery so quickly, but we have to get the show going,” Shaido said, clapping his hands. “Good luck, everyone.”

Not for the last time, Alistair wondered how cultivators lived for thousands or even millions of years, yet everything seemed so fast-paced. Since arriving on Faxor, he had been shuttled around from arena to jail cell. But Alistair didn’t feel discouraged. In fact, he felt the opposite. The path forward was clearly visible now, the “One Above Many” Badge standing at the end.

The scenery of the hall faded, replaced by the backdrop of an island. Hot sand seared the bottom of his feet as he took in his surroundings.

“Alistair?”

He couldn’t believe his eyes. So is this what they meant by entertainment value, Alistair thought, bringing in his sister for a hug and closing his eyes.

“Is that your girlfriend?” another familiar voice asked.

“No, she’s my sister, Evangeline,” he told Alexandra, still hugging his sister.

“Aw great, why did they have to put me with these fucks?”

Alistair opened his eyes. Entertainment value. Of course.

“Wonderful to see you again, Alistair, Anthony.” Alistair remembered the speaker from his first time in the Soulnet, specifically his posh English accent. Alfred Wood and a man he assumed was his brother stood a couple of feet away.

“Not this greedy motherfucker, too,” Anthony complained. “I’m not working for your stupid family. I’m all American right here, and proud of it.”

“I fail to see how a strategic partnership with my family constitutes a betrayal of the United States, but I digress. It looks like we’re all on the same team.”

As if on cue, a special notification window popped up.

Felons vs. Fellows Limited Available Quest Partnership- Alistair Tan, Evangeline Tan, Anthony Ricci, Alexandra Lykaios, Alfred Wood, and Bartholomew Wood form team #13. Each member of the team must not harm another member of their team on pain of severe consequences. Time Limit: 167:59:59.

“Looks like you’re hitched to us, Mr. Ricci. Now that all of our fates are tied together, I suggest we do some introductions and explain our strengths. I’ll start first. In case you didn’t know, I’m Alfred Wood, heir to the Wood family fortune. My Class is Spymaster and I excel at surreptitiously gathering information. In terms of combat, I offer very little, but my younger brother more than makes up for my deficiencies,” Alfred offered.

“Name is Bartholomew Wood. My Class is Supersoldier. I served in the Special Air Services,” Bartholomew said. He looked eerily similar to Alfred in the face, but was shorter and twice as muscular, with a deeper voice. “I specialize in survival, mass bombardment, and aerial supremacy.”

“Hell no,” Anthony said after everyone looked at him since he was next in line. “I’m not telling you anything about my abilities. Completely out of the question. After this is over, we’re going straight back to enemies.”

“I would think the present need to survive outweighs future concerns,” Alfred responded.

“I’ll take my chances, thank you very much.”

“Alright, I guess I’ll go next. I’m Alexandra Lykaios and my Class is Nature’s Barbarian. I hit things hard, and I get a bit angry. And some of my abilities relate to nature and life, but I’m still figuring that out,” Alexandra said.

“Wait a minute, Lykaios? Your father is the Greek shipping magnate? What a small world,” Alfred said.

Anthony grumbled something about rich kids under his breath.

“I’m Alistair Tan and I’m a Magical Pugilist. It’s pretty self-explanatory, I’m fast and I punch people,” he said, omitting his Karmic Skills for now.

“And I’m Evangeline, Alistair’s sister. My Class is Spiritualist, so I can affect the soul and see things at a more basic level of understanding.”

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard,” Alfred said, giving Anthony some side eye. “We’ll be dominating this island in no time.”

For the first time since arriving on the island, Alistair got a good look at the landscape. The white sand beach they landed on stretched onward to the left and right into the horizon, blending into lush green forest a few dozen meters inland. He spotted no one in sight, which made sense with the five hundred square kilometers of area split amongst a thousand contestants.

Alfred served as a temporary leader of the group. There was something about his silky-smooth accent that enamored him to everyone. With his uncanny ability to detect everything going on within a certain radius, he could make the most informed decisions for the group. Even Anthony, who still muttered under his breath about his bad luck, reluctantly traveled with them, realizing the futility of striking out on his own when everyone else would be in their groups of six.

Alistair remembered when he first met Alexandra, she used her [Contract] Skill to help them work together, and he asked her if she could apply it to Anthony. It turned out that even if he consented to the Skill, which was required, it could only bind rewards for Quests and share information. He supposed it made sense the Skill was so weak, considering Alexandra was just a first-year law school student.

For the first hours after landing on shore, they trekked through the tropical forest. Alistair thought his toughened skin might have protected him from mundane problems like bug bites, but cultivator flies and mosquitoes turned out to be stronger than their counterparts back on Earth. He was crawling with rashes after just a few hours.

He caught up and swapped stories with Alexandra and Evangeline, though he was embarrassed to explain his stint in jail. Evangeline maintained her lead on Alistair’s rank, despite him leveling up three times since they last saw each other. She had breached the top 500, up to #475 at level 27, though he and Alexandra weren’t far behind at level 26. With Anthony at level 29, those two levels separating #5 from #500 were no easy canyons to cross. The memory of Anthony focusing his aura on him was still fresh in Alistair’s mind, along with the mystery of the man’s Class. He was certain that the feeling of being trapped and caged, the infinite pressure that Anthony exuded, was key to the identity of his Class, but Alistair couldn’t put it all together.

“So, your plan is to find another group?” Alexandra asked, her eyebrow raised. Alistair was warier of her knife-flipping habit now that she had the Tang Clan Dirk.

“If I know the Final Frontier Empire right, they’ll prioritize the early bird in discovering the treasure. And it will probably help us out in gaining cultivation. That’s why I think that we’ll be better off trying to keep a treasure than stealing one at the last second. For my Spymaster Class to be most effective, we need to find people to bug,” Alfred explained.

“And they won’t get discovered?”

“They’re extremely difficult for most people to detect. Though I suppose someone with a Class like Evangeline’s would be able to see it. The chance of that is low, however,” Alfred admitted.

“Hey, I feel something up ahead,” Anthony said, stopping in his tracks, everyone else following suit. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you.”

Alexandra groaned out loud, the others had reached a breaking point as well. The Italian American New Yorker had pulled similar stunts, but the danger of the mission kept them on edge every time he said something.

“Wait,” Anthony said, stopping again. “I’m serious this time.”

“Yeah right,” Alexandra said. “You can’t expect us—”

“Get down!” Alfred shouted.

His [Fighter’s Instinct] went haywire as he dodged a gust of wind overhead, tackling Alexandra down with him. Something moving so fast it just looked like a blur rushed him, pummeling his torso with a series of blows. Even with his Agility and {Assassin’s Fist}, he was too slow and predictable. It was like the creature, which looked almost like a black monkey, could predict his moves before they even happened, leaving him no other choice but to try a [Hand of Karma], surrendering his only point of positive Karma.

Alistair reached for his cryptic attacker, bending the lines of Fate around him to a future in which he successfully grabbed the monkey.

It wasn’t enough. With the monkey’s speed and dexterity, the future in which he succeeded was too simply too unlikely, given the amount of Karma he allocated. And Alistair wasn’t about to go into the negatives just to grab a stupid monkey.

He missed his target by a long shot, but the monkey had already found a new target. Dodging automatic machine gun fire from Bartholomew, the speedster ape launched itself at Anthony, who had a look of abject horror on his face.

But as the monkey rocketed toward the fifth ranker, it slowed down, and not because of gravity or fiction. Time itself decelerated in the space between the jumping monkey and Anthony until it reached a dead stop. The moment after the monkey froze in time, it reversed. Every action that brought it to Anthony rewinded, sending the monkey flying backward, right next to Alistair.

He was ready for the monkey’s return, preparing a meaty [Mana Strike] that ended the monster’s life, a level 20 Akuchin Monkey.

“They’ve uncloaked themselves!” Evangeline shouted, pointing in the direction the monkey had initially appeared from. “I can sense dozens of monkey souls chasing after us!”

Alistair acted instinctively, picking up his sister like a baby and running in the opposite direction of the monkeys. It looked like he had the same idea as the others, who also started bolting. They weren’t equipped to deal with a pack of twenty monkeys that possessed incredible speed, especially in the forest's cover, where the monkeys could bounce from tree to tree like ping pong balls.

Despite the monkey’s speed, with the Supersolider covering their retreat with suppressive fire from his RPGs and machine gun arms, they did not attack them in their mad escape. Alistair’s Regional Map detected a treeless enclave deeper into the forest they could take shelter in, outside of the Akuchin Monkey’s natural habitat. The fact that the map still worked in such an alien environment honestly surprised him.

They reached the rock clearing in fifteen minutes, a small mountainous cliff side containing a hundred-meter waterfall and river winding further toward the center of the island.

“You guys are pussies. We could have dealt with those monkeys and gotten a serious amount of experience,” Anthony said, kicking some rocks nearly fifty meters across the river.

“Through my combat analysis program and my brother’s intelligence gathering, we assessed the likelihood of success in protracted forest combat to be 12.3% plus or minus 1.9%,” Bartholomew recited.

“Yeah, that’s because you don’t know how amazing I am,” Anthony grinned.

“Guys,” Evangeline said.

“I think I might know more than you would imagine.” Alfred grinned right back.

“You wanna test that, pretty boy?”

“HEY!”

Alistair rarely heard his sister raise her voice.

“There’s something off about Anthony,” she said, not taking her eyes off of him. “I see something deep within his soul. I think he’s been infected with some kind of soul parasite.”