Once every competitor had grasped their phylactery, a sputtering noise filled the room. One hand still on her blade, Pithy forced herself to remain still as first sudden, small spurts of white smoke fluttered out from under the platform she stood on. The device quickly gathered strength, and with a hissing sound of escaping air, a curtain of fog fell over her. She barely had time see the same happening to the other contestants before her vision was completely obscured by white. 

The single chime of a bell ([i]The whole world is white[/i]) cutting through the sputtering fog machines sent a shiver down her spine.

At that moment, Pithy caught sight of a silhouette falling at her feet, but she could do little more than to lift a hand to shield her sight from the sudden explosion of light.

And then, just as quickly, her surroundings faded to black.

Tentatively, Pithy brought her arm down. Rather than the thirty-two podiums and the motley collection of humans and demons, darkness greeted her. High above, the Inquisitional College’s ceiling had been replaced by a sky of roiling clouds. Occasionally, moonlight would stream down from an opening in the clouds, only to be covered again moments later.

Since nothing seemed ready to simply pounce at her, Pithy remained still, blinking owlishly as she waited for her eye to become accustomed to the dark.  She concluded that the figure she had seen drop at her feet, what had been responsible for the change of scenery, had been the lantern the young Michael had used to lead her there.

[i]From morning to night in the space of an hour,[/i] she reflected. Jumping between realms was horribly disorienting. 

As she adjusted to the darkness, she became able to make out the details of her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the yellow-colored ‘H’ painted on the platform she stood on, contrasting heavily against the drab grey of the rooftop she stood on. And it was indeed a rooftop she had been placed on, overlooking a good portion of what Pithy thought to be the city she had seen on the horizon while at the Inquisitional College’s courtyard.  

This was a stroke of luck, she realized. Had she found herself anywhere else, her first instinct would have been to reach a place from which she could survey the city. However, she had been saved the effort of finding a vantage spot.

However, there was something that made her hesitate to take immediate advantage of this good fortune. At the four corners of the platform, dark, stolid silhouettes stood, gazing at the night sky with long, barrel-like heads moving back and forth steadily along an arc. She could hear a whirring sound as they moved. As she stared, one of them uttered a beeping sound, and its barrel fixed at a point in the sky. There was a loud rapport, a shriek, and something dark and winged fell from the sky to the ground below. With the threat eliminated, the sentinel resumed its scanning of the horizon. 

In her mind, Pithy likened them to the golems and constructs certain wizards would use to protect their workshops, and that sometimes roamed aimlessly around ancient ruins. She suspected that they would see no differences between her and that winged thing were she to cross the sights of their shooters.

While she hesitated, the sound of wings drew closer. Pithy drew her rapier from its sheath as she caught sight of another construct, winged this time, approaching her with something that resembled a purple eye fixed on her. The winged construct stopped some distance away, out of the sentinels’ line of sight, and Pithy finally saw the wooden box affixed to its bottom.

A light shone from it, creating the image of a young man dressed in a similar style as the other members of the College in the air before her. Pithy forced herself to keep a hand away from her temple to nurse an incoming headache as he began to speak to her. It seemed people like this existed in every world.

[i]And he is to be the announcer we were told of, isn’t he? Joy.[/i] She imagined similar familiars would be following the other competitors to track their progress as well. 

She wordlessly shook her head as the man said his piece and left her to her own devices. Turning to the horizon, she took the chance to study the layout of the city, obscured as it was by the cover of night. Straight below, she could see the numerous buildings that formed this facility. A few them had ‘H’s painted atop them, indicating platforms like the one she stood on. Lights shone from what from a distance looked like tall poles, sending circles of light downwards to light up the path between buildings.

Aggravating as he was, the announcer had given her this place’s name. 

[i]Justice Hub, was it?[/i] It brought to mind images of prisons and guard barracks. Perhaps this place had once been the seat of this city’s law enforcement force? It seemed much too large, but then so did the city, and she knew little of what threats an alien city would have had to contend with. The smaller buildings surrounding the citadel she stood upon looked largely unfamiliar to her, and without any knowledge as to their purpose, the reasons for their placements escaped her.

Pithy clicked her tongue. In other circumstances, she might have been interested—excited, even—by the prospect of an alien city filled to the brim with magical and technological marvels she had never so much as heard of, but the grim purpose of her visit did much to curb her enthusiasm. 

To make matters worse, the one item which she truly wished to study, whose workings might very well give her insights on how to treat her condition, was likely a soul box holding her very essence, something she did not feel at all comfortable tampering with.

Her ignorance could well become a fatal liability.

Once she was satisfied, she stepped down from the platform. She gave the sentinels—[i]turrets, the man had called them, like towers on a castle’s walls[/i]—one last wary look, half-expecting them to turn to shoot at her now that she had left them, but they simply continued scanning the skies with their red eyes.

At the other end of the rooftop, two doors faced her, both side by side. Though she could only truly describe the first one as a door, with a caricature of stairs and a sign reading ‘EXIT’ in bright red letters above it.

The second she thought of as a double door only by association, as it had no knobs nor hinges on which to turn when she pushed against it.  Noticing a small button at its side, she gave it an experimental push. It lit from within with white light, but nothing else of note seemed to happen. Frowning, Pithy removed her cowl and pressed an ear close to the doors. Sounds of groaning metal greeted her, but they told her precious little. Just as she pulled away to try the labeled door, there was a ding, and the double-doors sheathed themselves into the walls, revealing a small, empty square room illuminated by pale light. 

Pithy merely stared at the room, puzzled as to why the doors would lead to such an obvious dead end. After a moment, the doors closed themselves on their own. Surprised, Pithy pressed the button again, and the doors opened again, without delay this time.

“Ah.” An elevator. The delay could be explained by the platform traveling to get there. She had seen hand and pully operated ones in construction and mining jobs, and once or twice she had come across enchanted, floating platforms, but this metal cage was a first for her. The door began to close again, and this time she allowed it. Strange as the contraption was, she would rather not sit inside any steel cages she found in an alien city. 

She turned to the safer choice and opened the door with the signs. Pithy started as the same pale light suddenly illuminated a flight of stairs going down, but when nothing else seemed to happen, she began her descent. The flying familiar, which had until that moment been hovering some distance away, simply remained outside once she ventured into the building.

Pithy glanced thoughtfully at the glass-like objects emanating light as she walked. Rooms illuminating whenever she entered them would make her position obvious, particularly if those rooms had windows. She considered destroying the lights, but quickly decided against it. She would need a way to see one way or another, and she preferred not to leave an obvious trail of broken glass for others to follow.

By the time she came to the first door, she knew she had walked down several levels of the building. It struck her as strange, but she could hardly ask the architect about it. She paused at the door, considering her options, then opened it. It would not hurt to explore this facility. Truth be told, until she found leads regarding her enemy’s location, the best she could do was to avoid exposed places from which she might be ambushed.

[i]We were told to wait before initiating combat, but…[/i] What they needed was to gather souls, not provide a show. If she could not trust herself not to jump at the chance of an ambush, she could not trust the others not to do the same. It was as simple as that.

The door led to a straight corridor, which lit up with that same, pale light when Pithy stepped forward. Several doors framed the hallway on each side, most with numbers, a few with names to go with them. A short distance away, she saw the metallic sliding doors of what she was now certain was an elevator.

With mild curiosity, Pithy began to try the doors on this floor. With discouraging results. Locked. Locked. Locked. Locked.

The fifth door opened, but the moment light streamed into the room from the hallway, an outraged screech came from within, followed by the sounds of several flapping wings. Pithy could barely see the outline of sharp talons against the backdrop of an open window before she slammed the door shut. She heard another set of shrieks as the black creatures crashed against the door, but after a few moments of frantic fluttering and scratching noises, silence returned. 

Mercifully, her next few attempts did not reward her search with a flock of bat monstrosities, but neither would they open. Pithy fought against the urge to tear the doors down using her magic. She had no idea if doing so would trigger wards or other security mechanisms, and neither was she particularly eager to find out.

Fortunately, the next attempt succeeded. When Pithy grabbed the handle, the door simply creaked inwards before she could turn it. She paused to look at the nameplate fixed below the room number. It read ‘Lt. Desmond Kessler.’

[i]Lock must have broken.[/i] When no piercing screeches broke the silence, Pithy walked into the room.

Unlike the stairway and hallway before, no light came on when she walked into this room, leaving only the light streaming in from the hallway outside to illuminate it. There was a desk inside, with a few devices she did not recognize facing towards a chair. Portfolios, too many to go through, were piled along the walls in bookshelves. 

Seeing the glass window at the other end of the room, Pithy closed the door behind her, shrouding the room in darkness. 

Half-navigating the place through memory, half-feeling her way around the desk, she approached the window and peered down to the other buildings. There were no lights at their windows, and she could see nothing moving on the ground. She caught sight of the announcer’s familiar hovering outside, its purple eye seeming to stare right at her even in the room’s darkness, and she found herself wishing she had smashed the construct when she had first seen it. She could only hope the construct would give her leads as to her opponent’s location.

Confirming that, for the moment at least, things seemed relatively calm outside, Pithy turned her attention to the room itself. Perhaps she could glean some information regarding the turrets, or the purpose of this place.

The runes inside her rapier’s guard, still at hand since the moment she had caught sight of the familiar in the roof, glowed. Pithy felt the familiar resistance—patterns in the magic locking and becoming rigid—as she tried to shape a spell outside of her aspect.  For something this simple, it mattered little. A mote of light appeared at the weapon’s tip, then hovered above the desk, bathing the room in a faint light.

Pithy approached the desk, giving the plastic devices a curious look. From this side, she could see that one of them, a flat, upright rectangle, had a film of what seemed like glass at its front. It had a button with a blue pulsing light on it, but pressing it once merely turned off the light, and pressing it again made the pulsing start over. There were several notes stuck to its corners with adhesive paper, written on in small, sharp penmanship.

She pulled on one, bringing it closer to the magelight to read and ignoring the cold emanating from it. 

‘Reminder: Mag B-day on Thursday. Buy gift.’

Pithy let out a small snort. The fact that she was still capable of understanding the language despite being in a different realm was nothing short of miraculous, and yet here she was, reading someone’s shopping list. She pulled out a new one.

‘Door broke. Have Terry bring in a locksmith.’

And another.

‘Lost new hire at entrance to Hi-Clear area. Suggest change to automatic security protocol.’

Pithy frowned at that. Automatic security likely referred to turrets like those at the rooftop. If they had killed people despite them working at this facility, it did not bode well to what they might do if she ran afoul of them.

Leaving the notes alone for the time being, she focused on the other devices on the desk. The rectangular apparatus in front of the first had several more buttons, all with characters imprinted on them. She gave them a few experimental taps, but the machine did little that she could see. The last device, which seemed fit to hold in one hand, had two buttons and a wheel between them. They made a clicking noise when he pressed on them, but little else. She had a feeling they were supposed to work in tandem, but as long as she failed to activate the machine, there was precious little she could learn about them.

Puzzled, Pithy followed the cables, eventually kneeling before a large, rectangular box. Numerous cables were attached to its back, and on its front, she could see a few more buttons. She zeroed in on the one with the circle cut by a small line at the top. It was the same symbol as the one on the glass box’s button.

She pressed it, then started as a whirring noise came from inside the device. She stood up and realized light was coming from the glass box. Words and images began to appear on the screen, along with a small bar with a percentage number atop it. 

After a moment, the screen went blank, then was quickly replaced by a simple blue background with the words ‘Choose a user.’ Under the words, there was a single entry under a small picture of a middle-aged man. It read ‘Kessler.’ Below it, in smaller letters, she could read ‘Change User’.

Pithy’s first instinct was to touch the name where it appeared on the glass, but the screen did not seem meant to take inputs. Her next thought was to write the name on the rectangular device, but nothing happened either. 

Frowning, she grabbed the smaller device. She noted with some bemusement that a white blur flashed along the screen, and, after some searching, saw a small white arrowhead hugging the edge of the glass. Turning the device, she saw a hole from which a red light was shining. She pressed a finger on it, and noticed the arrow shift slightly. With a flash of insight, Pithy pressed the device against the table and nudged it. This time, the arrow followed the motion until it rested atop of the image. A darker blue highlight surrounded it, and Pithy felt a swell of triumph.

Pithy pressed on both clickers at once, and new text entered the screen. 

‘Please enter your password.’ 

Pithy’s spirits fell. She moved the clicker arrow to the white area and clicked on it. A small bar began to appear intermittently, as though waiting for input. Pithy frowned and glanced at the character box. Very slowly, making sure she pressed the right buttons, she spelled the name ‘Kessler’. When she looked at the glass box, she was somewhat surprised to see the dots that had appeared, one for each character.

A part of her at the back of her mind was delighted by this. [i]It’s to keep others from seeing what you write.[/i]

She experimentally clicked the arrow next to the white field, and a circular symbol took the place of the words, spinning in place. After a moment, the circle disappeared, replaced by the ‘Please enter your password’ text. This time, below the white field, were the words ‘Incorrect Password’ in an angry red.

Interest piqued, Pithy began to go over the notes adhered to the glass box, but nothing on them immediately hinted at a password.

She knelt before the desk, pulling open one of its drawers. More portfolios. Too much to go through. Closing it with little more than a cursory inspection, she peered at the drawer on top of that. A glass bottle of something that could be nothing more than expensive alcohol, and a small packet which smelled of tobacco when she brought it to her nose. 

Slowly, it was dawning on her that rather than being abandoned, this place felt like its occupants had been present up until a day before Pithy arrived, and then vanished overnight. She looked up to the top of the table and swept a gloved finger over it. It left no tracks. [i]No dust. Is someone keeping this place clean?[/i]

She shook her head. Such thoughts were not immediately relevant. She stood, hooking her hands under the drawer under the desk, and pulled it open. 

Pithy sucked a breath at the sight that greeted her, her search for the password all but forgotten. In hindsight, it was not particularly strange for this Lt. Kessler to keep a weapon in his workplace. Resting within the drawer was a shooter, similar to those he had seen some of the competitors carry. She reached down and grasped the wooden grip with one hand, feeling the polished, metallic surface of its long barrel with the other. 

She remembered the accuracy with which the turret in the roof had killed the careless bat, and realized that, if this world’s shooters could be so reliable, she might benefit from carrying one. Still, she knew enough from the ugly, clunky shooters of her world that she would need ammunition for it to be useful. 

She followed the length of the barrel to a cylinder at the contraption’s middle, and pushed a finger against it. The cylinder rolled in place, and she could see the empty grooves where projectiles would go. She placed her finger on the trigger, as she would have with a crossbow, and pointed the weapon at the wall. She pulled. The metal projection at the back of the weapon pulled back. The cylinder turned slightly to chamber a new projectile. And the metal projection hammered back down.

Click.

Fortunately, the drawer had held more than the shooter. From within, she pulled out a harness with a sheath for the weapon and a heavy pouch. Opening the latter revealed over a dozen of the expected projectiles, all roughly the size of her little finger.

She fiddled with it until the cylinder swiveled to the side, then loaded the projectiles into the weapon. Reinserting the cylinder came with a satisfying clicking sound.

That dealt with, Pithy turned to the harness. She thought she knew the way of it. Removing her cloak, Pithy wrapped the straps around herself, tightening and slackening them where she could to make up for the obvious size differences between herself and its previous owner. Once she was finished, she pushed the shooter into its sheathe under her right arm. She supposed the good Lieutenant must have been left-handed.

As Pithy put her robes over her shoulders, a sudden rapport sounded from outside. At first, Pithy dismissed it as the turrets on the ceiling firing at the bats, but as a second and then a third boom joined the first one, Pithy looked out the window. 

A good ways below, she spotted the purple glare of the flying familiar’s eye hiding at the edge of one of the buildings below, as though trying to peek around the corner. She hummed. She had been told she would hear her enemy before she saw them.

Pithy took a slow breath, a wispy cloud of vapor escaping her lips. For the first time, she realized how cold the room had gotten. 

Pithy strode out, dismissing the magelight as she went. The door opened as easily as it had the first time.