Jin definitely got in trouble.

  She had gone to try and find Petal as a potential source of protection since he had at least seemed sympathetic to those who might suffer abuse and wanted to keep her safe for some reason she had yet to learn. However, they couldn’t find him before the Fighter guards found them.

  Luckily, it seemed that there were some protections for the Servants in the case of self-defense. Alim hadn’t disobeyed any given command and had the bck eye to prove he had been injured. It meant that the Whisper, Shahara, was the one at fault for administering punishment that she had no authority to do.

  That didn’t absolve Jin from burning down a house, unfortunately.

  Ten more shes for that and another night in confinement was the price. Knowing that Shahara would never y a hand on Alim again, though, made it feel well worth it in her mind.

  Jin’s back felt worse than before since it had still been healing from the st punishment, and she tried to figure out a way to y on the stone floor of the prison cell to sleep without hurting it more.

  She was surprised when the dungeon door opened, and a guard brought in another girl that Jin recognized. Once the guard was gone, she sat up and moved closer to the bars as she asked Basima, “Break another vase?”

  “No,” the blonde sniffled. “I spilled paint on a tapestry that was going to be hung up in one of the private viewing lounges the Speakers watch the Tower from.”

  Jin shook her head but smiled as she said, “They should really stop giving you things that are either breakable or spilble. Like, can’t they just have you stuck to a broom?”

  Basima gave a short ugh that quickly devolved into a sob, and Jin found herself reminded even more of Phoenix on the bad days when the smaller redhead couldn’t get out of bed, and Jin had come to visit her instead. She wanted to wrap the crying blonde in her arms and rock the tears away, but the bars kept them separated.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You get to keep me company again, right? So, it’s not that bad, is it?” she mely tried to console the girl.

  “It’s so bad,” Basima whimpered through the sniffles. “I’m totally going to get picked tomorrow. Salman was so angry at me because the Speakers yelled at him for it. He even said he was going to toss me in the Tower himself.”

  Jin wasn’t sure what to say that might comfort her. She didn’t know enough it felt like and she could absolutely picture the man doing exactly as he threatened.

  Basima looked up at her with a tear-stained face and a crinkled nose as she brokenly said, “I don’t want to die tomorrow.”

  Jin grimaced at that. “You won’t. Even if you get picked, I’m sure the others will help you survive.”

  “The Servants never make it past the first floor,” Basima whined, hiding her face in her arms as she hugged her knees. “They’re going to kill me at the boss gate leading to the second floor if the monsters don’t eat me first. The Fighters always cull the Servants there.”

  “Hey, look at me,” Jin said, staring at the girl. “Repeat after me. ‘I am not going to die.’”

  “What?”

  “Just do it.”

  Basima gave her a dubious look but said, “I am not going to die.”

  “I’m not going to give up and will fight back.”

  “But—”

  “No buts!” Jin ordered. “Just repeat it.”

  The blonde snorted a ugh and repeated, “I’m not going to give up and will fight back.”

  “Good. Now, no matter what happens tomorrow, keep repeating that to yourself.”

  Basima gave a soft chuckle. “You know what? I think you might be a little bit crazy.”

  Jin returned her smile and said, “I feel like this whole world is what’s crazy, and I’m the only sane one here. But maybe that’s just what crazy feels like.”

  “Thanks, Jin.”

  “For what?”

  “Being the good kind of crazy.”

  Jin was retrieved by Karam again in the morning, who was smiling but didn’t say anything about her disobeying the st thing he had warned her not to do. He did surprise her with a gift, though.

  “What’s this?” she asked as he handed her a piece of bck embroidered cloth. It had a beautiful image of a feminine figure stitched in gray thread wreathed in green fmes.

  “It’s you,” he shyly answered. “I thought if any of us can reach Emerald Caste, it would be you, so… Well, I made this for you as a sort of good luck charm. Just in case.”

  “You made this yourself?” she incredulously asked as she ran a finger over the detailed work.

  “It’s what I thought about doing with the Workers. I said I might show you ter, and I…” he trailed off as his expression became sorrowful, and he quietly admitted, “I didn’t know if I’d have another chance to after today.”

  “Hey, if you can make something like this,” she said, lifting the cloth art. “Then you are definitely too valuable to choose for the Tower. They’d be insane to send you in there.”

  He nodded but didn’t look convinced, so she asked, “Now, who am I getting sent to ruin the life of next?”

  Karam snorted a ugh and told her, “No new assignment yet. Most people get the morning off to attend the opening ceremonies of the new Season. We’ll be heading to the Tower after grabbing some breakfast.”

  They ate in silence. The tension in the air was palpable as those eligible for selection among the Servants all worried that they might die in a few hours. People who did speak were doing so quietly and saying emotional goodbyes or final wishes.

  As they headed towards the Tower at the center of the city, she noticed the somber mood wasn’t shared by the other Sects. Many other people were already moving towards the Tower and talking excitedly, their certainty in their safety assured. They were looking forward to the exciting first day and already specuting about who might win the climb.

  When Jin saw the Tower itself, she felt both awe and underwhelmed. It was tall but not as tall as she had been expecting with what people had hyped up about it, being only about twenty stories high and was maybe a football field wide. It was perfectly circur, though, and a massive waterfall spilled from the top of it down into a huge pool that surrounded the base before branching off into the various streams that flowed throughout the rest of the city.

  It was almost impossible to hear anything coherently between the crashing sound of the water, and the excited talking of the massive crowd that had gathered in bleacher-style stands all around the Tower’s basin. The tall buildings that surrounded the space were filled with balconies of more people, and it was obvious to Jin that the higher up one was, the more important they were—as if looking down on those of lower station.

  Karam took her to an area near the base where other Servants had gathered, sitting and mostly praying. Her guide had to practically shout over the cacophony of the waterfall for Jin to hear him as he tried to expin, “We have some time before it starts, but everyone in the city is expected to be here. The gods will descend, and the Sect leaders will call forth their Champions. Those Champions will go up to kneel before the gods who might give them Patronage. The order is usually based on the rankings of the st Season.”

  “I thought nobody won st Season,” Jin yelled back.

  “It’ll be based on the number of points the Sect accrued before the wipe,” he expined. “The Fighters will be going first this year, so you’ll get to see how it works. The Champions are all Mundanes and get stripped before entering the Champion Gates.”

  “Stripped?!”

  “There’s starting gear in the prep room beyond the gate that they’ll change into. It’s to make sure everyone has the same starting point item-wise for ‘fairness,’” he said, using his hand to make finger quotes on that st word to emphasize his disbelief of it.

  “That sounds fair; why don’t you think so?”

  “Because sometimes Mundanes are born with a personal dimensional storage space as a Talent, and anything they keep in that won’t get stripped from them. I’ve heard rumors the Workers are hoping to leverage such a person this year.”

  “So Talents is where the scales get tipped,” she surmised with a grimace.

  “And training,” Karam corrected. “The Fighters’ Champions all train for this. They go in prepared physically and mentally. It’s why they usually win, though not always.” He gestured towards the other Servants and added, “None of us are trained to survive the Tower. We’re trained to serve the ones who survive.”

  The sudden silence of the waterfall ceasing rippled through the area as the crowd followed its example. All eyes were now on the rge dais that rose up from the basin where the waterfall had been crashing down only moments before.

  A veritable menagerie of glowing animals materialized upon it, and there must have been about two dozen of them all crowded upon the stage as another dais rose in front of it, which had six bridges connecting it to the nd beyond the water.

  The Sect Leaders then all began moving across each of these bridges to meet on the matching dais, and Jin actually recognized every one of them.

  Petal walked down the Pleasure Sect’s bridge dressed in one of the most eborate costumes she had ever seen and almost made him look like a flower.

  Aina almost looked exactly the same as Jin remembered when she first met the Whisper, dressed in all bck leather, but this time, she had a headpiece of twisted bck cloth hiding her hair, and her eyes were heavily make-uped with charcoal.

  Hank, for the Labor Sect, was dressed cleaner than she remembered, though it still screamed practicality with a Workers apron. Buster was also simirly dressed in the practicality of a Fighter with exquisite-looking leather armor that was covered in spikes and reminded Jin exactly why they were called the Pain Sect.

  Salman was the humblest, wearing the simple gray of a Servant, but his outfit was styled more like a priestly robe than the tunic and pants most of them wore.

  Before all of them, however, was Queen Theris in an eborate dress that rivaled Petals for its beauty. It sparkled with gemstones in the sunlight and was the most wealth Jin had seen since arriving in this world, and likely before then.

  “The city of Qutbi welcomes the divine pantheon for this Season of Salvation, that you may bless us once more with the life-giving waters of Pority. We reflect your designs in the hopes of delighting you with our unity in opposition,” the queen said, her voice amplified by some kind of magic as it rang out through the crowded basin.

  The god that appeared as a massive lion rose from his position in the center of the group and stepped forward to say, “Call forth your Champions that we may measure their worth.”

  The queen bowed to the god and stepped back as Buster took her pce. “The Fighters are honored to present our best for your consideration. First, our most promising in a century, Antoni of the sword.”

  Cheers rang out from the Pain Sect’s area, and a young man who seemed to be in his mid-twenties broke away from the crowd and walked across the bridge to join his Sect’s leader. He had blonde hair like Basima but much darker skin and bowed deeply to the deities.

  A new bridge had risen as Antoni had made his way across the first, this one connecting the Sect’s dais with that of the gods’. The first Champion walked across this second bridge, and then he kneeled before Lion.

  Then the god spoke again, “Who among us offers patronage to this Fighter?”

  “I do,” a much smaller bck cat said as it stepped forward. “Antoni has dispyed his dominance well.”

  “I, as well,” a horse said. Its mane and tail were comprised of fmes, and suddenly, the incantation Jin had spoken previously made much more sense to her. “Antoni has dispyed the passion of both a Fighter and a winner.”

  “I will offer,” a white tiger with silver metallic stripes added, “Antoni has dispyed careful control over his body and mind.”

  After a moment of silence, Lion spoke again, “I will also offer Patronage. You have dispyed pride in your accomplishments and have made others proud of you in turn. You may only choose one to be blessed by, however. Choose your Patron, Antoni.”

  “By your Radiance, Lord Lion, I would choose the pride of the king of the gods. I shall fight for the victory of you and my Sect,” Antoni replied, never looking up from his bowed position on his knee.

  Then the Lion moved forward to pce that massive snout on the young man’s head, causing Antoni to glow with a brilliant golden light for a moment before the god backed up again. “Go with my Blessing and await the opening of the gates,” Lion said, and the crowd of deities parted to let the Fighter pass to the gate that had been previously hidden by falling water.

  Jin continued watching in fascination as people were called up and offered various Blessings from the gods. The Fighters, then Speakers, then Workers, then Whispers, then the Lovers all presented their Champions in order, and the more names that got called, the more nervous Jin began to feel as the Servant’s turn approached. She was actually surprised that the Workers had apparently come in third pce st Season, and it raised her hopes that points could be gained for more than just killing things.

  Fifty Champions had been chosen and presented. Jin didn’t think she would ever remember all the names or faces there. Especially not the Whispers, whose faces were all hidden by bck cloth.

  When it was Salman’s turn, Jin wished she could quiet her own heart as it hammered in nervousness for the handful of people she hoped wouldn’t be sentenced to their deaths. She wasn’t that lucky, however.

  “The Servants humbly present our chosen for your consideration,” Salman said to Lion with a bow. He then called out the first victim. “First, I offer Basima.”

  A cry came from nearby, and Jin turned slightly to see an older blonde woman clinging tightly to the younger girl as an older man hugged both women just as tight. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but a Fighter guard that had been waiting nearby extracted Basima from the people Jin assumed were her parents.

  Basima was crying and trembling as she made her way across the bridge to bow to Salman and then kneel before the gods.

  None of them offered her a Blessing.

  She stumbled past the deities to the gate where the other Champions were all gathered.

  “Why didn’t any of them offer to bless her?” Jin asked, offended by the ck of patronage.

  “It costs the gods Aetherius to give Blessings, and it costs them even more ter if the Blessed person dies. They won’t offer it if they feel certain the person won’t make it to the top,” Karam quietly expined. “Honestly, the fact that all the others got one is unusual, but the gods see everything and are better at calcuting the odds. It means they have faith in whatever training or pns the other Champions have in pce.”

  “Next, I offer Maximus,” Salman said from the dais, and Jin breathed a small sigh of relief that she had no idea who that was. A young man strutted forward, not needing the Fighter’s encouragement.

  Again, no Blessing was offered, and the boy actually sneered at them. “You’re making a mistake. I’m going to reach the top and show you all how idiotic you are,” Maximus told the gods as he moved past them, and Jin suddenly understood why he had been selected. That kind of arrogance didn’t fit among these Servants at all.

  “Kian,” was the next name called by their Sect leader. Jin didn’t recognize the older man who seemed to be trembling with every step. He must have been at the limit for their age requirements though, which she thought Basima had mentioned was thirty—or sixty in Earth years. Kian didn’t get an offer from the gods either, but silently kept his head bowed as he moved past them.

  “Hadia,” Salman called out, and Jin’s gaze searched for the woman who had been brash but friendly enough to her.

  Hadia didn’t look scared at all as she purposely walked across the bridge. Instead of bowing to her Sect Leader, she made some kind of rude hand gesture towards the man as she walked past him. She didn’t kneel before the gods either, crossing her arms as she stood there until they moved out of the way. She gave them the same rude gesture as she walked beyond them and joined Basima and Maximus.

  Jin didn’t recognize the next three Servants called out. “Mary,” was an older woman she would have guessed was the same age as Kian and seemed to have trouble seeing as she shuffled forward with a cane guiding her way. Ignored by the gods, Jin thought it was lucky she didn’t fall into the waters surrounding the area, but she managed it by going slowly.

  “Daren,” was a younger man that seemed to nervously look everywhere but ahead of him, and “Celia,” seemed to be reted to him as their appearances were so simir. Both had short brown hair and lighter skin, with round innocent faces, but Celia’s gaze stayed ser focused on the other man and Jin assumed they were brother and sister. The gods didn’t seem to care one way or another about either of them or their retion to one another.

  “Alim,” the Servant leader offered next. Jin’s heart sank further, and she wanted to punch the Fighter who had roughly grabbed the man who couldn’t hear his name being called out.

  “No,” Karam said with a broken voice. “He… why would he pick Alim? He was doing good. He—” His voice caught, and he muttered, “He was my friend.”

  “Hey, don’t talk about him like he’s dead already. You said it yourself that he’s smart. He showed me that he knows how to do some magic, so he has a better chance of surviving, right?” Jin tried to reassure him. She wasn’t surprised, though, when none of the gods offered Alim a Blessing.

  “Karam,” Salman called out next, and Jin’s grip on her friend’s arm tightened.

  “Fuck,” she whispered as the gentle giant beside her stood and spoke to her through a watery smile.

  “At least I’ll get to go with Alim. Thanks for being kind to us, Jin.”

  “Wait, no,” she replied, getting up to follow him. “Can’t you just go—”

  The Fighter guard pushed her back away from Karam as he approached the bridge. Jin tried to get him off her, but he must have been a Caster like Salman was, considering he barely budged against her struggles.

  “You can’t make him! This is wrong!” she shouted at both the guard holding her and Salman standing on the dais, giving her a look of disdain.

  “Somebody help them!” Jin shouted to anyone who might listen while none of the gods offered to give Karam even a chance.

  Salman’s disdainful gaze twisted into a cruel smile as he offered up the Service Sect’s final Champion. “Our st chosen is Jin.”