Deon and Skrili walked with Pang and Phillip along one of the many Gloat Center platforms floating high above the lake. Their destination: Skrili and Pang’s assigned arena for the Preliminary Rounds.

After they had joined up the day before, the group hurried to the welcome center so Skrili and Pang could sign in. There, Deon had noticed several specialized guards similar to the ones at the Fantasy Country border. He realized even if Pang had gone with her original plan (to have Phillip impersonate Skrili with illusions) it probably wouldn’t have gone over so well.

The viewing tickets for the Preliminary Rounds were surprisingly cheap, at only sixty scale cards, as Deon and Phillip discovered.

From there, upon Pang’s insistence, they explored the festivities going on all across Gloat Center. It felt strange spending so much casual time with the two people he considered flat-out enemies only a couple weeks ago, but Deon tried to conceal his discomfort.

Pang was utterly delighted the whole time, practically dragging the other three to every booth and store she wanted to see. It was like she forgot everything she did to Skrili.

Then there was Phillip, who Deon kept catching glaring at him silently. It gave him the creeps.

Awkwardness aside, Deon absorbed everything around him that day. He wished he could spend hours at every booth, talk to every consciousness, and buy every gadget available. Even in the tiny hotel room Deon and Skrili rented that night, the use of magic to light and power everything amazed him.

But today was the most exciting part.

Today, the fighting began. He was itching to see all the consciousness types and fighting techniques these pros from across the whole Multiverse had to offer.

On their way, the group walked by a bookstore they hadn’t visited the day before. There were some books on display outside the building, floating in place above a dull yellow glow on the ground.

As Pang passed by, she briefly stopped to take note of one. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Hey, Phillip and Skrili! This one’s called ‘The Consciousness League: A Survival Guide for Introverts in an Extroverted Career.”

Instantly Skrili and Phillip each held a copy in their hands, reading the back cover with intense intrigue.

With them distracted, Pang spun around nonchalantly and faced Deon, standing close. “So you listened to my advice, huh?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Remember? The first time we fought, I told you to use that temper of yours to your advantage,” she reminded him. “I’d say that worked out nicely—you wrecked me the other day with that nifty power-up.”

Deon looked down guiltily. “Oh…yeah, I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t be. I never lost until that fight, and…losing is good, sometimes, you know?” She shifted, noticing Skrili and Phillip had headed inside to buy the book.

“But…I didn’t exactly do all that on purpose,” Deon tried to explain. “It kind of just…came out. I can’t control it. It hasn’t happened since.”

“Well,” started Pang, her eyes practically piercing through him. “If you wanna, I’m sure I can get it out of you again. We’ll both be around for a while. If you’re scared to try tapping into it with Skrili, you can practice on me.”

Deon swallowed hard, not really sure what to say.

“Just let me know,” Pang finished. She backed up as Skrili and Phillip returned with their new books. “Okay cuties, let’s get on over to that arena!”

As the four fighters resumed walking, Skrili edged close to Deon.

“Whatever Pang told you, just ignore her,” she uttered without looking at him. “Don’t entertain it.”

“Uh—sure,” Deon agreed.

As they approached the edge of this floating platform, Deon smiled: it was once again time to use the new levitation bracelet he bought the day before. While it was initially tricky (Skrili had to push him along on his first use), he quickly got the hang of it and—quite literally—jumped at every chance to use it.

Bracelets lighting up, they all stepped off the platform and ascended into the air. Other consciousnesses flew around everywhere, and Deon still couldn’t count just how many platforms hovered before him.

Their destination was just ahead, higher than the platform they came from. A round building similar to the colossal Gloat Stadium took up most of the surface, and many other teams were approaching it to participate in the fight.

“So, exactly how many teams fight in this thing?” Deon asked Skrili as they floated.

“Two-hundred,” said Skrili. “That’s just for this arena. There are sixteen arenas for the Preliminary Rounds, and the winning team from each one goes on to the main event in Gloat Stadium.”

“So…two-hundred teams at all sixteen arenas…” Deon thought aloud. “There are 3,200 teams at this thing?! So, 6,400 fighters?!”

Skrili nodded. “This is one of the biggest Conscious Competitions every year.”

“Whoa…”

Soon they touched down on their target platform. Despite this stadium being purposed for the less-significant part of the Competition, it was still immense. The center of the round white building had no roof, unlike Gloat Stadium’s dome-shaped covering.

The four fighters headed towards the entrance, which had a floating sign above it reading “Preliminary Arena 14.” Hundreds of consciousnesses headed the same way, mostly in pairs of two. Deon could almost feel the anticipation and nerves all around him.

As they neared the entrance and waited in line, Skrili stepped past Deon to stand beside Pang. A worker in metallic armor sat at a booth, rapidly checking people in and directing them. The line moved quickly.

“Names?” the employee requested.

“Pang Pereo and Skrili Kay,” Pang said with confidence.

The employee found them in a hardcover book projecting a list of names, and checked them off with her finger. Then she glanced at them again for a moment.

“You’re so young, and you’re already entering one of the toughest Conscious Competitions?” she questioned. “Follow the hall to the right. Be careful, you two, okay?”

“We’ll try our very best,” Pang said playfully.

The worker turned to Deon and Phillip. “Names, guys?”

“Oh—we’re just watching,” Deon explained.

The employee took their tickets and put them to the side. “Oh, the boyfriends,” she noted. “Follow the hall to the left. Seating options are first come, first serve.”

They all headed inside, turning their separate ways.

“Enjoy your guy time, fellas!” Pang called as Skrili followed her down the hall.

“Hey Skrili—You guys are gonna crush it!” Deon exclaimed with a fist in the air. “We’ll be cheering!”

Pang mumbled something to Skrili with a mischievous smile as they walked. Whatever it was made Skrili blush and hurry her pace, not looking back.

“Huh…” Deon wondered aloud, before shrugging it off. “Alright Phillip, let’s find a good spot to—HEY!”

When Deon turned back around, Phillip had already walked away without him, almost halfway down the hall already. With a start, Deon hurried to catch up.

The hallway was long and curved to the shape of the arena. Unlike the outside of all the buildings at Gloat Center, the walls were black. There were many impressive art pieces of consciousness fighters—probably past champions—printed all along the walls in white.

Strangely, the hall led to what seemed like a dead-end. But when Phillip activated his levitation bracelet and floated upward, Deon realized it was an exit. Still a bit behind Phillip, Deon’s bracelet glowed orange and he rose up high, into the outdoors.

As he landed, he saw no trace of Phillip. But what he did find was the largest fighting area he had ever seen.

Deon figured he could fit at least four Tailpieces in this place. A rectangular, white platform rose above the oval shaped floor below, with two large arcs in the walls on each far side of the arena. There were ads for levitation bracelets, TeamTrack apps, and more all over the walls. Soft, white bleachers stood three floors high all around.

Taking it all in, Deon headed for the second floor of the bleachers since he didn’t see Phillip on the first. It didn’t take long to find him, because to Deon’s surprise, there weren’t many other spectators. Some people sat here and there, but it would be a stretch to call it a crowd.

Also, it turned out humans weren’t the only fans of consciousness fighting. There were also some non-human observers: a man with a horse’s body from the waist down, a woman with reptile skin, and a brown dragon leaning on the outer rim of the arena high above.

Deon tried not to stare at these fascinating people, but it was hard to resist. Fantasy Country was full of marvels.

Phillip sat alone in the center of the second floor, so Deon joined him.

After a while, Phillip sighed. “Of all the available seats, you had to choose the one directly next to me,” he muttered in his deep voice.

“Oh come on, what’s your deal, man? You still mad about me beating Pang or something?” pressed Deon. “’Cuz Pang definitely seems over it…to say the least.”

“That’s part of the problem,” mumbled Phillip. “Forget it.”

Deon shrugged, but still didn’t move to another seat—that would be like admitting defeat. “What’s with this turnout, though?” he asked.

“Usually only managers, talent scouts, and hardcore fanatics attend the Preliminaries,” Phillip explained. “Besides, Pang told me no big stars got assigned to this arena.”

Nice…that means they have a better shot of making it to the main thing, Deon thought.

“So…are you and Pang just teammates, or, like…?” Deon started.

“Please stop talking to me.”

Deon reluctantly complied. After what felt like an eternity of sitting in silence, a projected voice echoed across the entire arena:

“Arena 14 Preliminaries will now begin. Orange Team, please enter the arena.”

A few people clapped as a mass of fighters began pouring in from the right archway. They all wore bright orange ribbons tied around their arms. Deon had a tough time trying to pick Skrili and Pang out from the crowd, but then he spotted blue and bright red hair towards the back of the pack: there they were.

“Blue Team, please enter the arena.”

Now an equally large crowd began entering from the opposite archway. Their ribbons were bright blue. A few teams towards the front hopped up and down on their way in, hyping themselves up.

Both swarms of consciousness fighters stepped up to the elevated platform, staying on their respective sides. A red line appeared on the floor before each group, allowing a large middle ground between them.

“Preliminary Round One: Battlefield Elimination, is about to commence. The remaining fighters in the winning group will advance to Round Two, along with their individual teammates. Any fighter who exits the platform, becomes unconscious, or becomes otherwise unable to fight will be disqualified from this round. Any team with both members defeated will be disqualified from this year’s Conscious Competition. Friendly-fire and killing are strictly prohibited.”

Deon’s eyes widened. “Whoa, wait—they’re all gonna fight at once?!”

“You may begin Round One in Three…Two…One…Begin.”

A beep resounded, and the red lines on the fighting platform vanished. The arena filled with the rumble of roars and footsteps as the two massive groups stampeded at each other.

Some fighters stayed behind, running slower and discussing strategy with their fellow Orange and Blue Team members.

As the two crowds neared, Deon noticed all kinds of objects appearing in the air and firing down into each group. Must be plenty of Imaginers here, he realized. Fighters scrambled to dodge while continuing their charge, but some of them took some heavy hits from the air strikes.

Deon could barely see Pang and Skrili, now running low towards the middle of the Orange Team. But then the two groups collided, and immediately they were lost in the frenzy of battle.

“This is chaos!” Deon exclaimed. “How the heck are they supposed to make it past this?!”

“They need to make sure the Orange Team wins,” explained Phillip. “If they do, and either one of them is still standing, they both advance.”

“‘Still standing?!’ More like ‘still alive!’”

“Do you not have any faith in your future teammate?” questioned Phillip. “I believe Pang has what it takes.”

“Well—that’s not really what I meant…” stuttered Deon.

Come on, Skrili, hang in there…he thought worriedly.

Already, dozens of consciousnesses were falling out of the ring or lying incapacitated. Deon noticed flat, rectangular lights would appear and scoop up anyone who had been lying still for a short while. People in black and purple robes were standing along the outskirts of the arena, following—or rather, guiding the lights with their eyes.

Once they placed the fallen fighter out of harm’s way, more robed individuals in green would approach the fighter. They used a device that looked similar to a TeamTrack to shine a green ray across the consciousness’s body.

Oh good, so they have healers…that’s a little encouraging, Deon thought.

As the war raged on, Deon could hardly keep track.

An explosion of yellow erupted to the right side of the platform, and countless fighters went flying out of bounds. Deon quickly searched for Skrili and Pang among the defeated, but they weren’t there.

Towards the mid-left of the battlefield, about thirty Blue Team members surrounded a thin man from the Orange Team. Unconcerned, he took out some sort of wooden flute and began playing a tune. Gradually, all of them collapsed, fast asleep.

Then a woman from the Blue Team came lunging through the air at him, and kicked the musician right off of the platform. But instantly after, a bulky man ran up and lifted her, throwing her at another Blue fighter and knocking them both out. His efforts meant little, however, because a woman even bigger than him nailed him from behind, sending him straight into the wall of the arena.

Still, Deon found no trace of Skrili or Pang.

“Whoa, who’s that?”

“Look at them go!”

A couple of spectators from the floor above spotted something exciting. Deon scanned the arena, and then found a trail of Blue Team fighters collapsing or falling out of the ring, one by one. The trail was cutting all the way across the platform.

Deon squinted until he could make out a red and blue blur zooming past fighters, taking them down with ease. When it reached the other side and slowed, he realized this blur was Pang and Skrili. They stood for a moment, and Pang gave Skrili a high-five.

“Wow, it’s just a couple of girls! They’re incredible!” exclaimed a spectator.

“They’re so young! Cute little things!”

“Uh-oh—watch out!”

Deon caught sight of a man in a straw hat sneaking up behind them. “Skrili, behind you!” he yelled, but he was much too far away for her to hear.

When the man got close he stood tall. Then to their surprise, Pang and Skrili began walking towards the edge of the platform, seemingly against their will.

“A Controller…” Phillip muttered nervously. “This isn’t good.”

Deon glanced at Phillip and noticed his deep worry. He had almost forgotten all of this was for Phillip: his health—probably even his life—depended on their victory. Deon hadn’t noticed before, but up close he could see the dark, sickly thin veins through his pale skin.

Deon quickly turned back to the fight. “Come on, guys…” he uttered.

Pang and Skrili were now only a couple steps from the edge, despite their feeble attempts to resist.

But then, Pang managed to turn her head around and look at him.

As soon as she did, they broke free. Skrili almost lost her balance and fell out, but she managed to recover. Now Pang fully faced the Controller in the straw hat with her arms crossed. She said something to him tauntingly, and Deon could make out her smug smile even from where he sat.

Immediately, as Pang watched him, the Controller turned and skipped to the edge of the ring. With a dainty twirl, he hopped out of bounds. Pang had taken control of his powers.

“Yeah! That’s what you get for trying to control a Manipulator, ya bum!” Deon shouted. “Wow, it feels weird cheering for Pang…” he added under his breath.

Phillip breathed a sigh of relief, though he tried to conceal it.

As the fighting continued on, it was clear that the Orange Team had gained the upper hand. Now that they had more than twice the numbers, it was only a matter of time before the Blue Team would fall. Skrili and Pang kept fighting on the outskirts, but it seemed they were trying to pace themselves.

Within minutes, the fighting was over. The Blue Team had one more rush in them, which overcame a large crowd of the Orange Team, but then they were quickly overwhelmed. Fifteen Orange Team fighters stood victorious, with Skrili and Pang both among them.

“Round One has concluded. All remaining members of the Orange Team and their teammates will advance. This includes the following contestants…”

As the amplified voice listed off names, Deon stood and cheered. “Yes! That was awesome!” he boomed. “How many rounds are left?” he asked back to Phillip.

“Just one.”

The winning members of the Orange Team cleared the platform, each removing their ribbons. A group of gray-robed workers approached the platform, and then several giant cleaning supplies appeared. Seemingly on their command, the giant appliances wiped and dried the area—Deon figured these workers must be Imaginers, along with the ones who had been transporting defeated fighters.

An intermission followed, and Deon sat quietly beside Phillip. He was growing tempted to just go make a new friend, but he still didn’t want to admit defeat. If they were going to spend this whole Conscious Competition around each other, he figured they might as well accept it.

After a few more minutes, it was time to continue.

“Preliminary Qualifiers, please re-enter the fighting platform.”

The fifteen fighters who won stepped back up to fight, some returning from inside the building. There were also a few more fighters: the contestants who were defeated, but whose teammates made it to the end. Many of the disqualified fighters, now healed, had entered the bleachers to watch the rest of the preliminary.

As the ten teams arrived, they stood in a large circle and kept a good distance from each other. Three fighters stood alone—their defeated teammates must have been unable to keep going.

Skrili and Pang stayed close, analyzing their opponents and whispering to each other.

“Man, this is tense,” said Deon.

“Preliminary Round Two: Teammate Free-For-All, is about to commence. The final remaining team will advance to the Main Event. At least one member of a team must remain to earn the victory. Any fighter who exits the platform will be disqualified from this round. Any team with both members out of bounds, unconscious, or otherwise unable to fight will be disqualified from this year’s Conscious Competition. Killing is strictly prohibited.”

“The rules sound a bit different this time,” Deon noticed.

“They are,” said Phillip. “Technically, as long as someone doesn’t fall out of bounds they can get back into the fight, if their teammate is still in. It goes back to the standard rules for consciousness fights from this point on.”

“Got it,” Deon confirmed. “See? We can have a conversation,” he teased.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“You may begin Round Two in Three…Two…One…Begin.”

The same beep from before went off, and the contestants all sprung into fighting stances. One was an Imaginer, who surrounded himself and his teammate with large metal shields.

“This is about to be tough,” Deon commented. “I really hope they can pull it off again.”

“If you still underestimate Pang, you must be stupid,” Phillip grumbled. “Beating her up with a power-up you can’t control doesn’t make you a real fighter, just a coward.”

Steaming, Deon turned to face Phillip. “Alright, will you just chill out?!” he shouted. “At least I don’t haunt peoples’ minds as my final attack, like some kind of overemotional ghoul—”

Phillip’s eyes widened, still on the fight. “It’s over,” he said with surprise.

“Huh?!”

Deon paused his verbal onslaught and looked over to the fighting platform as people gasped around the arena.

All but two fighters either lay incapacitated, or had fallen out of bounds.

Pang and Skrili stood unharmed in the center of the platform.

“HUH?!?!?!?!” Deon repeated.

As Pang smirked and crossed her arms, Skrili leaned over a nearby contestant to check on him. The fighter smiled, shaking her hand.

“Um…well…Round Two has concluded. The winners of the Area 14 Preliminaries are…”

The voiceover paused, clearly scrambling for their names.

“First-time contestants Pang Pereo and Skrili Kay…? Congratulations, you will advance to the Main Event.”

“Who the heck are they…?” everyone heard the announcer ask someone nearby before the amplification turned off.

The confused and impressed spectators gradually began clapping and cheering.

“You two are fantastic!” someone exclaimed.

“Flawless execution!”

“You know who they remind me of?”

“YES—I thought the same thing!”

Deon and Phillip sat bewildered. Finally, as the cheering died down, Deon stood up.

“WAIT, DO IT AGAIN! I DIDN’T SEE!!” he bellowed.