Chapter 24- Key

  I reach the top of the stairs and hide behind a large furnace with Bison and Falcon before the other three players on our team arrive, guns loaded and ready, hunting for me. I hold my breath, feeling my heart in my throat as they roam around the area, metal creaking under their hasty steps.

  We can shoot them as Bison suggested. Our backs stick to the rusty iron, hiding us in plain sight, eyes on the other players’ backs. I stop the barrel of his gun and shake my head. If we take the three players out, we’ll give away our location. In this tight-knit area without more than two exits per floor, it’ll screw us in the long run.

  Not only are the Hostiles stalking our shadows, but the rest of the lobby has formed a witch hunt for me.

  I can’t be taken out this early. Not when Vikson has eyes on me. How can I face him tonight or join him shooting this weekend when I’ve done nothing notable as he’d expect?

  “They’re not here,” says one of the players. “Let’s head up.”

  The three of us wait for their footsteps to turn the corner and die before we muster the courage to bolt towards another flight of stairs in the other direction. We make two more flights and hide behind a tank. Every floor is massive with different layouts and terrain; no two levels are the same. Light creeps through at the very top after an indefinite number of levels, filtering through the gritted metal floors. I calculate at least fifteen levels.

  When I’m sure we lost our pursuers, I undo the lower part of my velm and breathe, tasting the briny air. We’re levels ahead of the water, but I still keep an occasional glimpse below my feet, rising too quickly for comfort.

  Bison has his rifle close in case an animal comes out of nowhere. His posture is tense and hunched, ready to take on whatever comes, but I can see the tremble in his breath and fingers. Falcon isn’t much better either, always looking over his shoulder. I don’t blame them for their terror; Even I’m terrified to face my own animal. So I’m grateful for both their loyalty, even if the better strategy is to put a bullet through my chest.

  When the Saber returned to the shadows, my first reaction was to flee and hide. There’s no strategy against a beast like that. Maybe if we form a circle around it, we can take it out. But my teammates have other ideas. Without warning, someone shoots in my direction right after Cerena finishes her announcement, giving me no chance to talk it out. Fear doesn’t allow alternatives.

  So Bison and Falcon fled through the crossfire with me.

  “What are we going to do now?” Bison says first.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to run into that thing,” I admit.

  “Then we’ll just kill you.” Bison turns to me. I smack his gun away.

  “You need me,” I bluff. “Or at least until the Jaguar’s dead. Or you think you can handle it yourself?” I scan our surroundings. There are no elimination bells, so it’s hard to tell who’s gone and who’s left. But I can bet that Qonni is running free.

  The winning prize is fifty points. Qonni has a chance to take the lead if she wins this one. The gala is tonight. An event that’s filled with the executives of Lotus and snobby relatives. And out of every night of my life, I can’t come up short tonight. So I can’t just run out there and hope for the best. No, the best play here is to bid my time. I can’t risk elimination, leaving this game in my teammates’ hand. They stand no chance against Qonni and her Jaguar.

  When Bison lowers his gun from me, I continue, “I think we should find the vault first.”

  “Shouldn’t we find the key first?” Falcon replies.

  “That’s too risky. It’s open season out there. The winning condition is to insert the key into the vault, not kill the targets.”

  “We don’t know where the key is,” Bison says.

  “We don’t have to.” I pat his shoulder. “Once someone has the key, where do you think they’ll go?”

  Bison nods in understanding. “But what if everyone dies? Or that the key is in one of the big cats? If I were Cerena, that’s who I’d put it in.”

  “We’ll deal with it when it comes to that. So for now, here’s the plan.” I gesture for us to huddle together. “The water is pushing us up, so I bet the vault is somewhere in the higher levels. That’s where we go first. Ignore the animals. If we come across them, forget them. But if we see players, we shoot.”

  “Players on the enemy team, right?” Bison asks.

  I shake my head. “Everyone is an enemy. Our best strategy is to hit as many targets as possible. And it’s easier to eliminate players than targets. One bullet to the chest sends them back to the lobby. Saves us time and resources.”

  After I recite the plan a second time, we rush up the next flight, then the next. The stairs aren’t connected into a long single set, so every floor we reach, we’re careful of enemies, dodging them, eliminating them, outrunning them, until we find the next set of stairs.

  We don’t stop running until we’re out of breath. We’re halfway up the Arena when we reach the first grasp of light, the ceiling in view. We’re making progress. I drag myself behind a complex system of ventilation tubes, keeping an eye out for hostiles and gasping for air.

  “We’ve got company,” Falcon says from the adjacent side of our hiding spot.

  I peek in his direction, and sure enough, the three original pursuers have finally caught up. They arrived on the other side of the floor, unaware of our presence. Though I do wish for a more extended break to rest my sore legs, this might be a good opportunity to take them out. No other players are nearby, and no hostiles can be detected. But it’s not a clear shot from here. The three players spread out, disappearing and reappearing inconsistently behind pipes and electrical wiring.

  With a few exchanges of whispers, we get into position. I press my back against the pillars, showing myself as little as possible, crouching my way behind a target. The plan should’ve been solid, if not for the creaking metal that gives us away at the last moment.

  They swing at the noise—fire exchanges before another blink of an eye. Bullets graze the metals, rattling echoes in the air. I wait for one clip to empty, using the large metal pipes as a shield before taking my shot. I take a player down. The other two retreat when their teammate vanishes. Bison takes another down from the back. The last one runs behind a bulky tank, right into Falcon’s position. Gunshots spew. A small exchange of grunts and thuds and a yelp. Then nothing.

  Bison and I rush to his location, calling for him. No response. I yield at the corner before I turn, gun ready in my hands. Who am I expecting?

  Please be Falcon, I repeat to myself.

  I take a step and swing at the corner. The end of my weapon points to a fallen comrade. No traces of the other player. Falcon lies on his side, clutching his left ribs, compressing the wound, and blood spills through his fingers.

  “Shit,” Bison spits, and hurries next to him. He lifts Falcon’s hands and scans the injury front and back.

  Falcon brushes him away and shrinks into a fetal position. “Fuck! It hurts like a bitch!”

  “What do we do?” Bison asks me. “Put him down and send him back?”

  I shake my head with no idea. “Is it deep?”

  “I don’t fucking know,” Falcon groans. Without looking, he shows us the entry. Beneath all the slick blood and flesh, a golden shine peeks through the mess—the bullet.

  Bison groans and curses. “I’m no medic.”

  “Just get it out,” Falcon cries impatiently.

  The lead is wedged into him as he stepped on a nail with full force. Deep, but the end is enough for us to pick out—with medical tools. Bison and I try our best to clear the blood and pick it out, but it keeps slipping out of our fingers. Beads of sweat form on Falcon’s neck, and his skin is growing dull and pale. If we don’t get it out soon, he’ll pass out from excruciating pain, then he’ll be as good as dead.

  I take off my leather gloves and fold them over his mouth. “Bite on this.”

  He’s reluctant but obliges anyway. For the next few moments, I brace myself and dig into his flesh to get a better grip. He lashes out, screaming through his gritted teeth. Bison holds him down by the wrists, and the other clamps over his mouth. Once my nails latch onto a divot, I yank out the bullet in one go.

  My glove slips from his mouth, and he falls limp at immediate relief, breathing hoarsely through his mouth. I take one last examination at the bullet. Call it luck or chance, but the bullet didn’t hit a major organ or blood vessel.

  Bison rips off his sleeve to tie a knot over the wound as I watch over us.

  The initial chaos has died. Wherever I look, the Arena seems to be less crowded than it was in the beginning. The screams and running have silenced. Then it hit me: The flaw and blessing in Cerena's new policy. If the Hostile eliminates a player, the existing Alias is also eliminated. So the animals are helping us by canceling each other out. All we have to do now is stay alive while the predators do their job.

  Without the bullet wedged in his ribs, Falcon can walk with no aid now. Though his movements are sluggish, he’s able to use his automatic just fine, with the exception of poor aim. “I’m alright,” he says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s move.”

  We tread up the stairs, ignoring the additional effort in his steps, and arrive on the next level.

  We’re nearing the ceiling of the Arena, and I think we’re outpacing the flood, but when I glimpse down, the water is just a level below. Cerena must’ve increased the flow now that the players are dropping like flies, simmering the fighting grounds.

  Rows and columns of storage tanks for waste greet us at the top of the stairs. Pipelines of all sizes slither up the wall. This level is merged with the next two floors. Higher platforms rise a few feet above us, like balconies. There are hardly any clear pathways to walk, let alone run. Making this the labyrinth of nooks and corners to hide away in.

  “Wait,” I say, and extend a hand to Falcon. My attention drops to the few beads of blood on the grates, still moist and dripping. Fresh blood. “Someone’s here.”

  We ready our weapons. There’s only one stairwell across the floor. It would’ve been an easy beeline towards the flight of stairs, if not for the mountain of metal and concrete with entangling cords blocking our path. The level above caved in under the massive weight and fell, landing here. We’re forced to take the long way.

  “Or we can climb over it,” Bison suggests, with a slight nod at our wounded comrade.

  No matter how much Falcon claims his wounds aren’t a problem, he’s bleeding through his fiber suit, leaving a faint trail of blood behind us. From the rate he’s losing blood, he’ll drop dead at any moment. And leaving him stranded isn’t an option I’d take.

  “I’ll go with him,” Bison offers when I bring this up. “We’ll take the shortcut. You take the tubes.”

  It’s not a bad option, only that I doubt the heap can hold more weight before it caves in a second time. The ground underneath looks one jolt from giving away. Still, if we want to make it to the next level before the water touches us, this might be our best shot.

  They start to climb, Falcon first, then Bison behind him. I stay put at the base to keep an eye out. The battlefield is shrinking, yet there’s no one in sight. One thing I learned in all my years in the academy is never to take silence for a good sign.

  Falcon has trouble climbing without Bison’s assistance. The pile has too many variations of steps and metal rods, nothing like climbing a staircase. One slip or misstep, and he’ll get his torso pierced. And with Bison’s considerable weight, the stack doesn’t seem to hold the two at the same time. But one step at a time, careful of sharp iron bars, they make it to the top.

  “I can go down myself,” says Falcon.

  Bison lets him, and they vanish below the apex. Then, when I hear their footsteps stomp onto the floor, I call out. “All clear?”

  I hear some shifting, but no replies. Before I jump to the worst conclusion, I repeat myself, my voice bounces to the wall, once again, falling on deaf ears.

  “What the—”

  Something hard prods me in the spine.

  “Any last words?” I recognize Viper’s voice.

  When did she sneak up behind me? I’ve been so focused on getting my teammates across that I dropped my guard.

  I embrace myself for the bullet. Instead, I feel Viper unclip the last magazine from my hip.

  “Don’t waste bullets on him. He’s already dead.”

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  Raven.

  From the corner of my eye, she jumps down from a tank and then slides with her hunter’s blade into my view.

  “How many miles do you have on your bike?” Raven starts. “Actually, how much do you think I can sell it for? I’ll let you buy it back.”

  With Viper’s weight on my back, the best I can do is grunt.

  “Well, we finally caught the big cat,” Viper says, keeping her muzzle on me. “Gut him.”

  Neither of them has their guns with them. Taking from their brief conversation, they must’ve run out of bullets and are now using the knife to fight, which is how they took care of Bison and Falcon without a sound.

  My chin drops. I shouldn’t have let them go alone.

  I hear Raven tread closer. Can I take them both, or will the bullet take me first?

  Just as I reach for my gun, someone from afar yells. “Get off him, or I’ll shoot her.”

  Relief floods me as I hear Bison’s voice. I glimpse past the girl’s shoulder, and there he stands, Qonni locked under his arm, a knife under her chin. Bison is about two heads taller than her and three times as big. There’s no way she can get out of his hold.

  Good work, I want to say. But Raven curses under her breath and seizes me by the collar. The blade’s edge grazes the thin of my neck.

  “You don’t want to do that,” I manage.

  “Maybe I do,” Raven replies in a thoughtful finality. Then the weight of her thoughts drops on me.

  “No,” I say.

  She doesn’t reply, but nods her head slowly, confirming her decision. She shouts across the floor. “You can have her. And I’ll have him.”

  “You don’t mean…” Viper starts, then connects the two pieces.

  “No,” I repeat, firmly. But it’s futile. Bison also has the same thought in his stance: killing two tigers with one exchange.

  Traitor.

  Getting rid of the two of us will drastically change the difficulty of the game. No more being hunted by the apex predators. Especially when they’re low on bullets.

  For a moment, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. The only thing keeping me from agreeing to this is handing this game over to my teammates. Bison, I trust, can handle himself. But Falcon’s wounded—if he’s still in the game. Everywhere I look, Falcon isn’t here. So if this proceeds, it’s two against one. The odds aren’t too favorable for Bison.

  Maybe there’s still a teammate or two left on my team. But in the end, I can’t give this game away. If it’s another day, I’ll consider it, but definitely not when I feel Vikson’s gaze, monitoring my competence. There’s too much on the line for me to be eliminated now.

  “The tigers are gone,” I say with conviction. “Do you see them anywhere?”

  Raven keeps her eyes on me while Viper scouts around. It’s been quiet. I can’t say for sure if someone has taken them out. But they’re not the ones I need to convince. It’s Bison who’s my last hope.

  “Did anyone see it happen?” Bison says.

  “I did,” Qonni manages to reply from the strain of her chokehold. “Down a few flights, the two killed each other. Well, my jaguar’s definitely dead. I’m not so sure about the other one.”

  “That's a fucking lie,” Bison says. “I don’t trust either of you.”

  “But you should trust that we can take care of them,” I say.

  Raven shakes her head. “I’m not buying it.”

  “Neither am I,” Viper adds.

  The small girl tightens her hold on me and slides the tip of the blade down where my heart is. “If I’m wrong, I owe you an apology.”

  “No,” I mouth, barely able to get my voice out in the havoc of panic.

  Her gaze drops in remorse, then lifts to me with conviction right before she shoves the blade into my chest. I shut my eyes and brace the pain, fully knowing when I open them again, I’ll be in the lobby facing my great uncle with a wounded and unredeemable shame.

  I wait for it, but the jab never comes.

  My collar tugs for a second, then Raven’s grip frees from my suit. Am I back in the lobby? Is the stab to the heart painless? No. The hard end of Viper’s AR is still on my back, and the salty air remains the same. I’m in the same spot, and I dare to open my eyes as a clutter of noises follows.

  Raven is on the ground struggling against Falcon, who’s atop her. Viper stumbles backwards, her gun conflicted whether to hold fire or risk hurting her own teammate in the collateral.

  I know she’s saving the bullets, but she should’ve shot.

  The moment she peels her eyes off me, I seize the barrel with both hands, steering the mouth towards the ceiling as she sprays the bullets into the sky. I push and drive her backwards. She trips onto the two still battling on the ground, falling over them. I retrieve my gun back, but it’s already emptied, as useful as a dull blade.

  The next few minutes happen in flashes. All of us fall into a clutter of chaos. Qonni butts her head onto Bison, breaking the velm rule once again. He releases her. They wrestle for the knife. From below, Raven grabs my right ankle and pulls. I fall right onto Viper and Falcon. I grasp for support, but hands and limbs thrash against me, tugging me back on the ground, legs hooking onto mine. We’re in a tangled mess, and I have no idea whose arm is on my back.

  “Get off me,” Falcon cries in pain.

  “Sorry,” Viper says. “I’m trying!”

  Somehow, Raven maneuvers herself until her legs straddle my chest. Her arms lift high in the air, the blade pointing downwards. I catch her wrist before it thrusts into me. She forces it down on my collar with both hands and her body weight. My other arm is lost in the bodies beneath me.

  Raven forces it down harder, and I feel the cold edge break through the thin layer of my skin.

  But everything freezes as soon as the ground shakes from a loud thud. Somewhere across the floor, a pipeline has broken from a hefty weight. Another defective floor that fell? No, the stomp was too meaty, too alive. From the prodding footsteps and the low snarl, we all freeze.

  No one questions who the third party is.

  Raven peers over her shoulder, and her breath hitches. I use this chance to throw her off me, finally pushing myself off the pile of bodies. Viper stands after me, but Falcon remains on the ground with one hand clutching at his ribs, the other gripping the metal grates. He lets out two more breaths before his entire body relaxes. The image of him glitches, then he’s gone the next second.

  I have no time to mourn the loss. My attention immediately snaps up to the large obsidian beast a few pounces away. Upon meeting her citrine irises, all the muscles in my body tense, too intimidated even to take another breath. As if I jerk an inch, the glorious Jaguar will leap onto me.

  She stops in her tracks, scans us all carefully, considering the options for her next meal. Then her eyes snap to me. No. Behind me, I realize. The jaguar’s pupil dilates until I’m staring into the void. And somewhere in that darkness reflects the shape of another four-legged beast.

  The Saber remakes his appearance.

  *

  The Hostiles block off the two stairways up. Unless I want to take a swim with whatever is lurking in the murky waters, there’s nowhere else to flee. This is the chosen battleground.

  For now, we keep an eye on the two felines. Their bodies were motionless at the base of the stairs like statues warding off evil spirits. Their pupils grow on us. No one dares to move.

  Every muscle in my body screams to flee, but my nerves don’t dare. But Viper does. She ducks down, reaching for the rifle. How useless. It’s empty. Then I see her glancing behind me, towards the last case of the magazine. The only way any of us can survive this is with a gun.

  My body thaws at once, and I dive for the bullets before Viper can.

  The pin drops; All chaos is set into motion. The thuds of the tiger’s paws rummaging through the metal vents and pipes. We all scatter, sliding under the boiler tubes, escaping to another narrow aisle.

  With the last case of ammunition clutched in my arm, I make my getaway and search for any AR lying around. Though we all have a foot-long blade by our side, none of us is willing to fight a wild cat in proximity. What’s one sharp blade against ten?

  As I sprint down the end, Viper ambushes me from the corner. She slams the rear of the gun into my guts. I take full force of the impact and fold over. She uses this opportunity to take the magazine from me. Biting down the pain, I seize her hand and kick her shin. She topples over to her knees, and I snatch the gun.

  Raven comes from her shadow like a phantom. She tucks herself behind others, always using her size as an advantage. She thrust a knee to my rear, then another to my side. Both the gun and magazine fly out of my hold. They clutter to the ground, spiraling across the floor into a narrow space between two tanks, too far out of our reach.

  “Raven,” I seethe in frustration. These two are inseparable. If one appears, I have to expect the other. I need to get rid of one, if not both.

  When the shorter girl squeezes between the boiler tubes, her arm extended in a crouch, I take Viper’s arm and sling her over my shoulder. She thrashes out as I rush to the ledge to an open view of the rising water. I toss her over. Her screams and curses die abruptly as she breaks the surface. The splash showers me.

  I stare into the water to see if she’ll rebound, and calculate how long I have until the water brings her back up. Then it hit me that the water might be a safer option. A place to hide and wait for everything to eliminate itself. Just as I put a foot up on the ledge, a murky shadow rises under Viper. She rises from the rippling surface, coughing out air. Her visor snaps to me, ready to curse me out. I open my mouth to tell her to get away, but it’s too late. The jaws of a reptile snap open, and she’s pulled under before I say a word.

  Viper’s gone within the blink of an eye, not even a peep from her mouth.

  No. The thought and regret come later. I didn’t mean for her to be eaten. Eliminated, yes, but not this way. A curling turmoil withers in my chest that nowhere is safe. No land. No sea. No place to hide where an apex predator won’t sense my fear.

  Gunfire rips behind me. I swing my head back to the scene, feeling stupid for leaving my back open to my enemies. The obsidian Jaguar has been hunting down Raven, but the animal retreats without suffering more than three bullets on her side. Then I hear the rifle click empty. Raven tosses the gun aside and hurries to Qonni.

  Qonni and Bison are still clawing at each other’s throats. Bison should’ve broken all the bones in her body by now. But that girl is stubborn and won’t go down without a fight, and my goodness, can that girl throw a punch. She’s excellent at determining her opponents' weak spots and targets them with full force. She never lost a spar this way. But Bison is covered with bulky flesh, so I can imagine her blows can’t reach deep enough to hurt, prolonging a fight that should’ve ended ages ago.

  But now that Raven’s there to help, he’s quickly rolled on his back, not enough hands to block the knives. Raven’s blade sinks into his palm. He cries out in pain, but manages to shove her back. I rush to him without another thought. Qonni uses this chance and pierces her blade into his heart.

  No. He’s gone within my next breath.

  The two girls take a second to breathe, flopping on the rail, their blades ready for another round. They scout the surroundings to see that both tigers are across the floor, prepared for another match. Then they see me not too far away. Most importantly, I’m in range for them to take me down. Easily.

  I pause and take a step back—all the nerves in my body spike. Run. But Qonni has a brief interaction with Raven instead. The smaller girl nods and reluctantly bolts towards the side of the boiler tubes, with complex pipelines and vents that stretch all the way up to the final floor. She climbs it.

  Then the Saber locks onto Raven and chases her. I expect Qonni to climb the other vents and use her teammate as a distraction. Instead, she shouts for his attention, throwing the empty firearm towards him, stealing his focus from Raven. He takes the bait. As he snarls, the long, curved teeth beam in the low light, and he sprints to her.

  As the Jaguar locks her attention onto me, Qonni’s grand scheme hits me: She’s the bait. I doubt she wants to be eliminated here, but that might be the better option considering that Raven is still in the game. We’re reaching the end of the drill. So even if Qonni’s sent back to the lobby, Raven will obtain the key from one of us.

  Qonni is the sacrifice.

  From the vacancy of the Arena, there’s no one else. I’m the only player left on my team. The spotted tiger is on her way to me. If I get chewed off here, there’s no one to claim victory for me. I’m my team’s last hope. My chest caves in with fear, watching the tiger close the distance between us. I can’t even muster the signal to tell myself to rise. The odds are against me. How do I get out of this?

  My brain has yet to answer as the Jaguar leaps towards me. At the last second, my body fights it, and I plunge into a gap between two engines, escaping the claws.

  The rush of adrenaline kicks in. The alertness pounds into my chest and head. I’m still in the game, even if I’m the last man standing. I have to turn this around; There’s no other choice.

  The Jaguar leaps onto the equipment with ease. Her shadow looms over me. With all the space and equipment, the entire floor transforms into a jungle, and I’m running in predator territory.

  With the high of adrenaline, I’m ready to bolt the moment she sees me. I hop over insulations and make my way across different terrains, all the while barely escaping the claws on my tail, like a rat being chased down by a house cat with barely any mouseholes to escape to. I run circles around pillars, dodging at any means. But my time is running out as the water begins to seep through the grated floors. I can’t run forever.

  Cutting a glance at my surroundings once more, I bolt for the web of pipelines and find one that seems to fit me. Between two medium-sized tubes, I dive straight ahead. The rusty metal rubs against my shoulder. For a moment, I assume I have miscalculated the gap and got myself stuck between the tubes, but I fall forward and leap onto my feet.

  The Jaguar, on the other hand, is wedged between the two as I have intended. I head for the stairs. The tubes are old and rusty by design, so it doesn’t take long for the vigorous cat to break the decaying steel and return to the hunt.

  I skip onto the step and arrive at the balcony level, where my road ends. On the other end of the rail, there used to be another flight of steps, but the weather and time have decayed its bones, resulting in its downfall and leaving a large gap between the two platforms. A sinkhole I can’t cross. Below the breach, I can see Qonni struggling with the tawny Saber, who’s noticeably broader than the obsidian spotted Jaguar. The slim difference between a dog and a wolf. It’ll be a real pity if I don’t make the fall and land right onto its deadly teeth.

  There’s no equipment, ventings, or insulating tubes for me to take cover or utilize on this short level. But I sprint down the narrow path in the other direction, toward the rising water and the menacing crocodile, patiently waiting for its territory to expand. I sense the threatening presence lurking just below. I clearly remember the moment Viper got eaten. The razor-sharp teeth and how quickly it all ended for her. I hop onto the railing, and I leap over the ledge without hesitation.

  I only hope the tiger will follow my lead as well.

  My legs scramble in midair. The vertigo pushes my stomach up to my heart as I begin to descend. I see the horned back of the praying crocodile inches below the rippling surface, its golden eyes hungrily gleaming at me. This is how I’ll be sent back, I think to myself. Gnawed and chewed. I just pray it doesn’t hurt the way I have imagined it.

  Even with that disturbing thought, I’ve aimed farther than I have anticipated, beyond the reptile’s reach. As I drop, I feel the prick of its teeth tug on the hems of my ankle. It’s going to swallow me. I feel the fabric tear as I crash into the cold, brick surface. The water tension whips my body and skin like a full-force slap. My body plunges deep. Brine seeps through my velm, trickling into my nose and mouth. As I suspend there, processing the cold whiplash, I realize there’s nothing after me. I begin to swim up.

  Breaking the surface, I uncage my lower jaw and gasp for fresh air. The brisk air bites my cheeks, a relief against my heated face, still trembling with blood rush.

  My break is cut short when I hear the commotion over my own beating heart. I find the cause of the uproar. It takes me a few seconds to grasp what is happening a few yards away from me. Too much happening at once—trying to keep myself afloat, trying to breathe, trying to swim away from any anticipated danger, trying to stay alive.

  A long, rough, and thorny tail rips at the water, sending splashes and waves in my direction. Then an onyx, glossy coat rises and falls on the surface. The reptilia and the tiger. Both cling onto each other, claw at each other, and tear at the other’s throat, two apex predators tangled in battle.

  As the water continues to rise, I take out my blade and keep it close by my side as I watch the fight carry on. It’s hard to tell who’s winning. But from the looks of things, neither of them is. Their movements become sluggish to the point of being anti-climactic, the crash of a high. The initial fire and chaos have ebbed. The targets cling to each other, bobbing up and down the surface, hardly wrestling, freeze as they’ve had enough, then surprise me with spasm jerks.

  Scatters of jet-black fur float my way. Rough scales and chunks of flesh are missing from the Crocodile's side, like single-bitten apples. Even in their dying state, I’m hesitant to swim close. You can never be too safe.

  Eventually, the reptile finally gives in, presumably from blood loss. It glitches for a split second, then vanishes. When the Jaguar has nothing to cling to, she sinks without a fight.

  Only then do I take a long breath and plunge underwater again, making my way behind the large tiger. It senses me, but doesn’t put up a fight. I fist the thick coat on her nape and sink my blade into her chest. Her glorious body disappears, and I swim back up to the surface.

  Now that there’s nothing in the water, I wait in it for the flow to bring me to the last floor where the Vault lies. I clutch my only weapon close with one hand, and the other grips the brass key.

  The real fight has yet to begin.