That’s right, Karl thought, almost forgetting. He activated the strange clock in his inventory, resetting Rune of Overpressure Leap Mk II, which normally had a three-minute cooldown. The rune flared, fire erupting beneath Karl’s feet and launching them away from the massive dark monster, which moaned with hunger.

  Glory (-190): 3,455

  “Aim for those statues!” Björn shouted, conserving what little oxygen he could as he pointed toward the hundreds of marble statues lining the lower base of the castle, each seemingly depicting a different god.

  Karl did his best to aim for them while ignoring the dozens of gladiator teams already opening vaults, their dwindling numbers a constant reminder of the time slipping away.

  Escape Vaults Remaining: 113

  He didn’t know which statue to choose. Other gladiators had clearly figured out where the third key piece would be, as swarms battled around nearly every statue.

  Karl picked one at random and hoped it would be enough.

  A group of Greek gladiators reached it first, however, barely holding off a swarm of sirens. Their leader—a large man with brown, curly hair and a Corinthian helmet—snatched a golden collar ring meant to clamp around the key shaft.

  “We’ll have to take it!” Sporus shouted as they flew toward the group. He fired several shadowy arrows, one piercing the Greek’s hand and forcing him to drop the ring in agony. A siren immediately clamped her beautiful teeth around his neck.

  “Sorry!” Karl shouted as the Trickster fired a grappling claw and snatched the collar ring.

  Key to Life Parts: 3/3

  Unfortunately, with all three key pieces secured, the eighty-meter momentum from the rune expired. They were left adrift among a thousand gladiators battling for the last keys, with hundreds more racing for the dozens of remaining vaults.

  Escape Vaults Remaining: 48

  “Trickster, assemble the key,” Karl said as they desperately swam toward the nearest vault.

  A massive boom erupted behind them as the umibōzu smashed its fist just meters from where they had been. The blow annihilated the remaining Greeks and sent a wave of stone and debris surging past them. The blast blinded everyone except Karl, who could still see through the chaos.

  “Sporus, stay on me,” Karl growled as he checked his internal parchment map and confirmed his friends were moving in the same direction.

  They could all see one another on the map—except Sporus.

  Karl grimaced at the thought. Without tracking, his friends would have been lost in the darkness and chaos of the arena, and more than likely dead.

  “Don’t let me go!” Sporus shouted, his voice uncharacteristically fearful.

  “I’ll get the vault open!” the Trickster shouted happily, launching a grappling claw that pulled him straight toward the nearest vault.

  Kara, Björn, and Mýra carved through a group of Persians blocking the way ahead of Karl and Sporus. Strangely, none of them carried a key, clearly trying to steal one from a group that did—like Karl’s.

  Karl tore through the backs of two men just as they reached the vault.

  Alpha Path: lvl 14 (60/240)

  Wealth (+3): 11,304 Gold

  “I got it!” the Trickster shouted gleefully as he jammed the glowing golden key into the vault. It began to spin, releasing a stream of bubbles and opening just wide enough for him to slip inside first, which somehow kept the water at bay. The moment he did, one of the five Roman numerals above the door activated, glowing gold.

  Karl’s heart sank at the reminder of the Emperor’s words.

  As Björn and Mýra swam through, two more numbers glowed, leaving two slots left. Kara, seeing this and reading the dread in Karl’s mind, turned around with a worried face; though her mind betrayed a wolfish instinct to kill and betray Sporus, the urge of which swelled in Karl too.

  Sporus was no fool either. He started to tense, perhaps to strike at them to make it in. But before any violence could break out, Karl’s conscience got the better of him.

  “I’ll Elf Leap us through!” Karl shouted, snatching a fallen blade from one of the deceased Greeks. “We can cheat the System that way so we can all get in.”

  But it seemed fate had other ideas.

  As Kara reached for Karl’s arm and he began to swing to throw the sword, a violent surge of water blasted past them on either side.

  Two Greeks—undoubtedly blessed by Poseidon—shot into the vault like bullets through water. They slammed into the small chamber where Mýra, Björn, and the Trickster waited, smashing into them with overwhelming force.

  The final two Roman numerals above the door glowed gold, and the vault slammed shut, sealing tight. Only the small glass window above the key slot allowed Karl to see Björn and Mýra unleash hell on the Greeks, slaughtering them in seconds.

  As for Karl, Kara, and Sporus, they too would share a similar fate, as their only chance for escaping was now sealed shut.

  28

  WHAT THE HELHEIM

  Sporus and Kara began choking as the minute of air in their respirators ran out. There were no nearby air pockets, likely only placed within the castle itself.

  Karl moved in desperation, Elf Leaping toward the vault door and seizing the key. He jammed it in, twisting left and right, forcing it again and again, but nothing worked. Even though Karl could see the Greeks dead inside—while the Trickster unnecessarily skewered their bodies with his katana—the glowing numerals above the door did not change.

  What do we do? Kara asked through the Pack Link, conserving what little air she had left. Karl could feel the pressure crushing her lungs as she fought not to breathe.

  Defeated, Karl turned and handed the Abyss Pearl to Sporus and Mýra. It granted them water breathing and doubled swim speed for fifteen minutes.

  Karl could only activate it for him once per day, and his punch-clock heart had already expired. When his air ran out, that would be it. At least they got to have a few more minutes of life.

  As Sporus and Mýra activated the Abyss Pearl, the giant shadowy umibōzu clawed forward, its eyes blasting intense beams of light as it locked onto Karl.

  “I think air is the least of our problems,” Karl muttered, bubbles spilling from his mouth as the creature crushed gladiators beneath its hands and dragged itself forward, jaws opening into endless darkness.

  Sporus fired shadowy arrows at its eyes, but the light incinerated them. Kara unleashed a Baldr-light beam that made it flinch, but it kept advancing, swallowing dozens of gladiators whole.

  Karl turned back to the vault and shook the door violently. It did not move.

  Around them, the arena was emptying. Gladiators fled as the creature focused solely on Karl and his friends.

  Through the glass, Karl saw Björn, Mýra, and the Trickster shouting, scrambling for answers. Hope drained from him.

  On either side of the creature swarmed hundreds of sirens, with just as many crocodiles beyond them. The remaining vaults around the arena were disappearing fast.

  Escape Vaults Remaining: 20

  Karl considered swimming for another vault, but when he tried to pull the key free, it wouldn’t budge.

  “Any ideas, Karl?” Sporus shouted as he fired arrow after arrow.

  “I don’t know what to do!” Karl yelled, glancing at Kara. Even in her werewolf form, she was beautiful as she fought, her light beam burning the shadow’s face hard enough to make it recoil.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  The umibōzu eclipsed everything as it drew close, its black maw spreading wide to swallow them all.

  This would be their fate. Not just him—but Kara, and their child.

  A crushing despair settled over Karl, draining the last of his strength. This was the end.

  Karl stuttered. “I’m sorry, I⁠—”

  Steam hissed behind them, cutting him off.

  Karl, Kara, and Sporus turned as Mýra appeared behind the glass, gripping a glowing golden thread extending from the vault like a beam of sunlight. Blood rushed from her nose as she twisted it like a wheel, steam and bubbles bursting from the vault’s seams.

  Her strength immediately faltered.

  Björn stepped in, grabbing the wheel with her as blood streamed even faster from her nose.

  Just before Mýra collapsed into Björn’s arms, the vault door cracked open.

  Kara and Sporus moved instantly, grabbing onto Karl as he jammed his sword into the opening.

  The umibōzu’s jaws closed around them.

  Karl Elf Leaped.

  Karl, Kara, and Sporus vanished through the vault as the door slammed shut behind them, sealing just as Mýra let go.

  They were briefly shaken as the umibōzu slammed into the wall that held the vault. A tremendous moan of displeasure rattled the small stone room they now occupied, no larger than a closet and lit by a single electric bulb hanging from the ceiling.

  “Closed for business, loser!” the Trickster shouted, turning around, lifting his metal rear, and farting at the shadowy giant through the glass as if to ward it off.

  “Oh, by the gods!” Björn said, grabbing his nose, as did Sporus and the others.

  “He can’t smell that, you know,” Sporus glowered. “And we’re in a tightly sealed room where air can’t escape.”

  “It’s the thought that counts,” the Trickster said, lifting his head high.

  Karl and Kara did their best not to inhale the methane fumes. Thankfully, they were safe inside the vault, and the umibōzu lumbered away to smash and devour other gladiators who had not been as quick or as lucky.

  “Are you okay?” Karl asked, as he and Kara briefly stood naked after shifting back into human form before their armor reappeared over their flesh.

  “I’ll be fine,” Mýra said, wiping her face with her Cryocoil armor, which froze the blood on her cheeks.

  “Here, use this,” Karl said, withdrawing Olaf’s Holy Gauntlet. After holding it to her face for two seconds, the bleeding stopped, restoring five percent of her Health.

  “Thank you,” she said, her lips shaking from exhaustion.

  “So are we just going to die in here, then?” the Trickster asked, hopping onto the vault door and peering through the small window at the carnage still unfolding in the water outside.

  “We’re probably stuck here until all the vaults are occupied,” Sporus said, huddling to his knees, eyes wide as he stared at the polished stone floor.

  Kara leaned into Karl’s arms, her fingers wrapping tightly around his hand. From the corner of his eye, Karl saw Sporus glance at them before quickly looking away.

  Sporus’s words proved true. The fighting outside raged on for another five minutes, which surprised him. The vaults disappeared so fast, only a few minutes ago. Then again, there were more monsters than there were gladiators left, making it harder for the last ones to reach the vaults, if they even could.

  Karl tried not to think about the death occurring beyond the walls.

  All he could focus on was how close they had come to not making it. That could have been the end.

  As they waited in the cold vault room, Karl looked to Björn, his thoughts ever more on the afterlife, especially since they had almost experienced it. “What is Valhalla like?” he asked softly.

  Björn, who had been tending to Mýra and kissing her, paused and turned toward Karl. A wide grin spread across his face.

  “It is every bit as grand as Egil has said in his poems,” Björn said. “When I was there with my father and my brothers to steal Thor’s Mjölnir, we got to feast long into the night with every man of valor that has ever lived.”

  “And shieldmaidens,” Kara added, causing Björn to chuckle.

  “Yes, and that too,” he said, his eyes turning dreamy as if remembering those female warriors, until a sharp glare from Mýra snapped him out of it. “What makes you think of Valhalla, Karl?”

  Karl shook his head in disbelief, hardly able to organize his thoughts. “We were nearly just there,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “Well, not all of you,” Mýra said as she nestled into Björn’s soaking wet chest, his armor from Titus gleaming under the electric light. “Your child would have gone to Helheim,” she added, looking at Kara’s belly.

  Kara unconsciously touched her stomach as he looked at her.

  “Is that true?” Karl asked.

  Kara held her breath, but her mind revealed the truth of Mýra’s words.

  “Is Helheim like hell?” Karl asked, sudden anger flooding him. All he could picture was the Christian image of damnation, and Helheim sounded exactly like it, the name and all. His Moonlight Meter spiked as rage surged through him at the thought of Kara risking herself on this suicidal path.

  He glared at Kara, barely containing himself.

  “It’s not like that,” the Trickster said, his voice unusually somber, diffusing Karl before he could speak. “It’s more dreary and dark. Think of a cold underground cave. It’s not great for kids, but it beats Dante’s Inferno. The Emperor can attest to that.”

  “Is that where your children are?” Sporus asked.

  The Trickster flinched almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” he whispered, curling in on himself on the floor.

  Helheim not being a lake of fire did little to calm Karl’s fury. “You knew this whole time,” Karl said, accusation heavier in his thoughts than his words.

  “Karl,” Kara began, but Karl froze time using Urðr’s Vision, halting everything for five seconds. The drain on his Stamina didn’t matter; they were safe. He needed only a moment alone to keep from shifting again.

  She risks your offspring for vanity, Fenrir said inside Karl’s mind, even as time stood still. Or perhaps it was Karl’s own thoughts, sounding too much like the wolf god.

  Karl exhaled slowly, unsure what to think, focusing on steady breaths as the seconds slipped away. When time resumed, he stood apart from Kara, staring out the small window.

  Kara said nothing, though her thoughts reached for him, offering a memory from the night before. It wasn’t enough to smother the rage burning in his chest.

  In your foolish quest for glory, you nearly killed yourself and our child, Karl thought bitterly, refusing to turn around.

  The group waited in silence as the arena battle dragged on. When the final vault sealed, at least a dozen teams still swam desperately, fleeing the swelling hordes of monsters.

  Then a message appeared.

  Contestants Remaining: 1,848

  Colosseum Floors: 3/5

  An explosion of lightning tore through the water above, revealing the most terrifying and beautiful sight Karl had ever seen. Hundreds of lightning bolts arced through the dark waves in a dizzying web of light, most of them striking the umibōzu rather than the remaining gladiators.

  Through Karl’s senses, he felt every creature in the arena convulse as the water itself ignited with electricity. The arena had become a bathtub, and the Emperor had dropped in a plugged-in toaster.

  The immense slaughter released staggering amounts of golden dust from dying gladiators and monsters alike. The shimmering particles drifted downward as the water drained away.

  The others stood to witness it, except for Kara, who lingered at the back of the vault. They watched in silence as the water receded and the glass shielding the audience pulled back, unleashing a thunderous roar of applause.

  As the last of the water vanished into the ground, corpses lay scattered across the wet sand. The vault doors opened, blasting salty, ozone-filled air into the small chamber.

  They leapt down from the vault, landing in the soft, soggy sand below. The Emperor and his sons stood and clapped as the surviving gladiators passed the bodies and moved toward the castle, now transformed into a rising platform.

  Karl glanced upward at the trapdoor ascending to the next floor, unable to imagine what horrors awaited beyond these first three trials. Each level was deadlier than the last.

  They only had to survive two more, though. It was a meager hope, but it was all he had.

  Karl and his friends joined the other gladiators on the central platform, though the Trickster paused to take a generous bite from a siren’s neck. At that point, Karl was too exhausted to care, though Sporus looked visibly perturbed by the grisly sight.

  “There’s something wrong with you,” Sporus said, shaking his head.

  “What?” the Trickster said, hopping onto Sporus’s shoulder. Sporus sighed and gave him the most dramatic side-eye imaginable. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to try a mermaid’s neck,” the Trickster added, wiping blood from his mouth. “Or maybe a merman’s neck, in your case.”

  “I’m going to slit your throat in your sleep,” Sporus muttered, just loud enough for the Trickster to hear. The Trickster only giggled.

  Their bickering was cut short as the Emperor raised his hand, and a great hush fell over the crowd, as it always did.

  “Less than two thousand of you remain,” the Emperor said, his voice unnaturally echoing across the arena. “You grow ever closer to achieving the sole title of Champion, while the rest are washed away into the annals of history. In honor of your victorious demonstration, we shall commemorate this day with a grand festival. Food and wine will be provided to all who attend.”

  At the promise of free food and drink, the entire Colosseum erupted in cheers, the roar ringing in Karl’s ears.

  “I hope to see you all there,” the Emperor said, before departing with his sons.

  Karl was left behind with his companions and the surviving gladiators amid the audience’s gluttonous cries, a crowd with an endless appetite for bread and circuses.

  Karl was in a sour mood when they rejoined Titus, Livia, and the children. Even when Justus gleefully showed Karl his new werewolf action figure, Karl couldn’t muster even a fake smile or a single word in response.

  “Give him some space, son,” Titus said, gripping Justus by the shoulders and gently pulling him back as they wove through the electric crowd and made their way along the busy streets toward the Aventine Hill.