“Well, as long as it’s official,” Len responded, almost involuntarily.

The spectral being did not look amused by her wit.

“The Grand Proving will be two days hence. At that time, use this scroll and it will teleport you to the correct location.”

“Well, that’s snazzy. Do I need to bring anything else with me?”

“No,” the being said, then vanished in a puff of smoke.

“Real chatty fellow,” said Larry.

“I suppose he got the point across. Huh, never seen a scroll like this. You think it’ll work?”

She cracked the seal on the scroll and unfurled it to reveal… a completely blank page.

“That’s a bit underwhelming,” said Moe.

“Well, I don’t imagine he was lying. Guess we just have to wait a few days and see what happens then. Guess there’s not much point in hanging out here any longer, let’s head back to town. I think our training’s done with.”

It was a pleasant enough walk back to town. They weren’t exactly a team with bonds of steel just yet, but they’d at least learned to tolerate each other’s company. There was even the faintest amount of optimism that they wouldn’t suffer a humiliating defeat right out the gate. It wasn’t a lot to go on, but it was something.

Kila didn’t take the news of their summoning well.

“You have to take me with you! I don’t wanna miss out on your big fights,” she practically bawled, tackle-hugging Len.

“I don’t think we have any say in the matter, Kila,” her friend replied, patting her on the head. Look, we’ve got a couple days left here in town, let’s make the most of it. Then, when I’m done with whatever happens at the Proving, I’ll come back to tell you all about it.”

“You promise?” Kila sniffed.

“I promise. Now cheer up, I don’t want my last few days before brutal combat to be sad ones.”

And so they resolved to spend their last days partying, carousing, and generally making nuisances of themselves. Len made a point of not finding out what had happened to Craig, suspecting that she wouldn’t like the answer, and instead focused on squeezing as much enjoyment as possible out of this time of rest.

The trio mostly begged off the festivities, taking a little coin each to go enjoy themselves and prepare in their own way. Len didn’t ask any questions, and they didn’t offer any answers. The whole experience was quite pleasant, a nice way to cap off a rather bizarre month that had turned out to be rather fun (excepting the frequent attacks of absolute agony thanks to her newly acquired ability). With the end near, Len spent the last night having a proper sleepover with her friend, talking late into the night about nothing in particular, though she did spend a little of it regaling the tale of a famous comic book vampire slayer that she had always loved.

When the morning came, they all assembled in front of the inn they’d been staying at, said their goodbyes, then pulled out the scroll once more. Len was surprised to discover that now it had words on it. Simple instructions:

“Each participant must grasp a corner of the scroll and speak the word of command,” Len read aloud. “Well, that’s easy enough, I suppose.”

“I could try grabbing a side of it,” Kila halfheartedly suggested, clearly knowing the answer.

“Yeah, sorry Kila, not gonna be risking that. All right, boys, you heard the instructions, let’s do this. Kila, I love you, but you’re gonna have to step back, I don’t know how this is gonna work, and I’d rather not splatter my friend across the street due to careless magic use.”

Kila pouted slightly, but complied. The quartet did as the sheet had bade, then uttered the command word at the same time and then… then they were standing somewhere else. It took Len’s brain a moment to catch up. She’d been expecting some sort of impressive effect, some explosion of magic… something. Instead, they’d just traveled across an unknowable amount of space to be standing in the center of a massive sand arena. A grand colosseum surrounded them, with hundreds, perhaps thousands of spectators. Wherever they were, it was now midday instead of the early morning. She counted dozens of teams all in similar states of confusion.

“Congratulations on your arrival, competitors,” boomed a supernaturally enhanced voice from a central podium. “You have all been gathered from across our territories to compete in this grand event to prove your worth at the greatest stage we hold. Moreover, you hold the honor of competing beneath the gaze of the Demon Lord herself!”

That caused Len’s interest to perk up. It had always been a bit of a pronoun game whenever the Demon Lord had been mentioned, there hadn’t been many specifics offered, so she’d assumed the gendered title gave the game away but not so, apparently. The first speaker had been a massive bronze-skinned Draconid, but he stepped aside to allow the Lord of all Demons to say her piece.

“In accordance with the old laws, I am pleased to accept all of you worthy petitioners to the moment of the Grand Proving. Bring honor to your clans and glory to yourselves,” the figure, cloaked in a grey robe that hid away any distinctness about her droned through the words, sounding bored, as if this was the absolute last place she wanted to be.

Nonetheless, all assembled roared with exultation at her words, bellowing triumphant challenges as though they’d just had the speech of their lives delivered unto them. It was downright creepy, even the Stooges seemed enraptured by the event. Len gaped in confusion at their reactions but shrugged and waited to see what else the Demon Lord had to say.

“You thirty-six teams of four represent the greatest warriors of each of nine major Holds. You will battle until your opponents are all either unconscious or dead. Try not to kill too much, please, the cleanup is a pain and I’d rather not lose more of you than I have to. So yeah. Beat each other to a pulp, try not to die, get a good position. Sounds great, right?”

Again, that strange, rapturous cheering overtook the crowd. Len felt a bit like the crazy one in the midst of all this cheering, but managed to bring herself to offer a bit of casual clapping. Maybe it was just that she was more used to a more polished sort of speechifying when a major political figure was giving a spiel. For an instant, she felt a chill wash over her and she had the strangest feeling that the Demon Lord was looking directly at her, but that seemed highly unlikely, given the crowd and she shrugged it off.

“You have each been assigned your own rest area for the duration of the tournament. Enjoy it, use it as you see fit, don’t trash it. Your brackets will be explained to you individually, the rest of the day is yours, have at it. Fights start tomorrow.”

A final round of exuberant cheering ensued as the Lord was escorted away. Each team had an attendant approach them and lead them to their private chambers. These rooms actually had a bed for each participant, meaning that the Goblins would have something softer than the floor to sleep on, they seemed rather pleased at that fact. Len’s own bed was slightly larger, indicating her status, but other than that it was a mostly spartan affair. The challenge brackets were displayed as advertised in the room, and Len saw that they’d be in the fourth match of the day. Not the worst placing, but she’d kind of hoped to be going first.