Our ethereal overseer introduced himself as The Shepherd. Its child-like, yet maturely put together voice carried an unnatural weight, reverberating through the space as if it wasn’t just speaking to us, but through us—into the very fabric of our being. He claimed to be the caretaker of all existence, the supreme force above gods, the unseen hand pulling the strings behind countless realities, and the only thing standing between them and the void.

  The space around us was impossible. A paradox made tangible. It had no clear walls, no ceiling, no floor—just an endless expanse of shifting nothingness, punctuated only by the murmurs of the others who had been dragged here from supposed other realities. Strangers, yet somehow… familiar. Different clothes, different faces, but I could feel the weight of their presence, as if we were all bound by some invisible thread.

  If this was a dream, it was cruelly vivid. I pinched myself a few times, and I felt real pain. If it was a hallucination, it was the most elaborate one ever conceived. There were a couple of times where I tried to ‘pull off’ a VR headset that I had thought was keeping me here. Nothing, I was grasping at straws at this point. This was all real. Terrifyingly real.

  I barely had time to process the sheer absurdity of it before my mouth acted on impulse. “Why are we here?!” My voice cracked through the uneasy silence, and like a match to dry leaves, it ignited a cacophony of voices around me.

  “Yeah! I was in the middle of saving lives from a Kaiju!” A voice shouted, their voice sharp with urgency.

  “I was fighting my archrival!” The shard dueler snapped, their flamboyant frustration cutting through the void like a blade.

  “Communities need to be plunged into darkness!” a more sinister voice bellowed, which immediately made me question who the hell I was standing next to.

  The voices built on each other, overlapping into a fever pitch of panic, anger, and confusion. But before the chaos could spiral further, The Shepherd’s voice boomed back, effortlessly swallowing the noise in an instant. “You were all selected as representatives for your respective realities, of which there are many—”

  I scoffed, shaking my head. “Representatives? Don’t give me that BS!” I jabbed a finger at the sky—or, at least, what I thought was the sky—wherever the voice was coming from. “You were listening in on that conversation I had with Ethan yesterday at work, weren’t you?”

  The Shepherd barely acknowledged my outburst. Instead, his presence swelled, pressing down on us like an unseen weight.

  “I understand that many of you are rightly out of sorts at this moment. But allow me to assure you that you are here for a good reason. A reason that will very much determine your entire existence.”

  Something in the way he said those words sent an icy dagger through my chest. Entire existence? If it really was to that magnitude, why was I picked as a representative?

  “Every hour, every month, every millennium—depending on the flow of time in your particular universe—new realities are born, splintering from the infinite possibilities of creation. Many of you would call this the ‘Big Bang.’ I have witnessed it countless times, over countless existences.”

  His voice faltered.

  “However, reality can only hold so much before… inaccuracies occur. Anomalies. Objects and even concepts from other realities begin to bleed through, merging where they do not belong. Past, present, and future intertwine in an unnatural chaos until the very foundation of logic erodes.”

  A chill swept down my spine like ice in my bloodstream. My thoughts shot to the crystal in my room—the one that had shimmered with impossible light, humming with something I couldn’t name. The way it disappeared, it was like it was never truly meant to be there in the first place. A piece of some foreign world, jammed into the gears of this one like broken glass in an engine.

  My chest tightened. I wanted to deny it all—chalk it up to dream logic or some elaborate simulation. But the Shepherd’s voice, calm and immutable, cut through every illusion I had left like a scalpel through silk.

  “I have been forced to compress many realities into singular entities to maintain balance, thankfully, only once,” The Shepherd continued, his voice cold. “Trillions upon trillions of individual consciousnesses were lost, their essences fused into composite beings that struggle to feel even the most basic of emotions.”

  A slow, gnawing dread crawled up my spine.

  “In order to avoid total collapse, and to avoid that event from happening again, I have determined that some realities must be… erased, sacrificed, so that the whole may endure. That is why I have called you here.”

  The words hit like a physical blow. For a second, silence hung in the air, as if everyone in the room collectively forgot how to breathe. And then—

  An uproar.

  “You’re killing us?!”

  “You’re a goddamn monster!”

  "My God... help me."

  “I’ll burn you for this, fiend!”

  Despair. Rage. Hysteria. The room twisted with the weight of it all.

  Was this it? Was I brought here just to be told that everything I’d ever known—everyone I’d ever loved—was going to be snuffed out like a candle? That my world, my history, my people were nothing more than to be eradicated to save other realities that we would never come into contact with any other way?

  No. No, I refused to accept that. Im just dreaming. Im just dreaming. Im just dream---

  “SILENCE, CHILDREN!”

  The Shepherd’s command was like a thunderclap, shaking the very essence of the void we stood in. The chaos died in an instant, replaced by a suffocating stillness. And then, with an eerie calm, he continued.

  “You will not stand idle as your worlds are judged. Do not mistake my actions as cruelty. Each of you will have the chance to prove why your reality deserves to remain.”

  A chance?

  “To determine which universes will stay, and which will… with great regret, meet oblivion, I have devised a ‘tournament’ of sorts. Not a barbaric tournament where you will be pitted against the others that you see here in one on one combat, as many of you are used to. This challenge is one where alliances may be born, and fall as quickly as they came. Where territories can be controlled to shift the balance of power which can determine which two come out unscathed.”

  “Which ‘two?’ More than one reality can come out of this?” I thought to myself.

  But even in my own mind, even among the multiple murmurs of the crowd. The Shepherd seemed to respond.

  “Yes, my child. Before the tournament begins, you will be divided into groups of two to complete a task—your task being to eliminate a powerful entity, one that has formed over millennia from compressed time.”

  “And how do you expect… some of us to do that? Killing gods isn’t exactly basic training!” I yelled.

  “I never said that it was simple. This feat will take many weeks, months, or even years, which is all the more reason why you will be partnered. I will not choose your allies for you. You must talk amongst yourselves. If any refuse to ally, I will assign them a partner at random.”

  The moment the words left his lips, chaos erupted.

  People and monster alike scrambled, pleading to team up with the strongest-looking individuals. Robots, hulking behemoths, mystic sorcerers—everyone was sizing up potential allies in a desperate bid for survival.

  I did the same.

  I scanned the crowd, searching for someone powerful—someone who could actually win this thing. The only problem was finding someone who would want to partner up with someone with no combat experience. I reached out to tap the shoulder of a man whose lower half was entirely mechanical, only for him to run over with steaming pistons to a werewolf with claws as long as my neck.

  Not a single soul approached me. I was only met with gazes of disgust and pity. I glanced over at Captain Coastal who looked to already be getting along with the spandex clad warrior. They pulled off ridiculous looking poses in front of each other, as if it was the only language that they understood between one another.

  Wait, next to that growing crowd. My eyes met a familiar face, or at least the back of her head, just like the first time I encountered her.

  What was her name? Oh, Lyra! Just like the constellation.

  She was the best chance I had at a partner. She was listening to a conversation between a group of militaristic looking people clad in different types of futuristic armor, bunched up together as if they were chatting at a Halo or Warhammer 40K convention.

  “Hey, Lyra, right?” I said within earshot.

  She turned, recognizing me immediately. “Oh. It’s you. Listen, I apologize for the mix-up earlier. Not used to getting caught off guard so easily.”

  “No, no. I get it. This whole situation is insane.” I forced a chuckle. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to team up.”

  She hesitated.

  “Uh, look,” she said, her voice measured. “With all due respect, civvie, you don’t exactly bring a lot to the table in terms of combat potential.”

  I expected that. I was ready. “I can code better than anyone here. I guarantee that. I've also got some survival experience from my years as an Eagles scout.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Even if you could, did you not hear what the voice said? Fighting is inevitable. I don’t want to be caught in a skirmish where my partner is just standing there, clacking away at a keyboard that doesn’t exist. Many of the people behind me have had encounters with the paranormal and extraterrestrial. And if your appearance is just deceiving, I don’t think you have.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “I—I can…” Shit. My brain blanked before I could land the second half of my argument. I have had encounters with them, but only behind the protection of the fourth wall.

  She sighed. “I’m sorry, kid. I have people back home I care about. It’s… a shitty situation for both of us. But—” she hesitated, then softened just a fraction. “Maybe, by the end of all this, I could convince The Shepherd to let me bring you back to my universe.”

  “I-I understand Lyra. If I were in your position, I'd probably do the same. You have people to look out for, same as I do.”

  “Exactly." She looked away briefly, then back to me. "Tell you what. I’ll tell whoever my partner ends up being not to dust you on sight if we see you. That's the angle I hear a lot of us are taking to thin out the competition. So, stay sharp out there Micah. If you’ll excuse me.” She said, turning back toward the group.

  “No. No no no no no. Please, you have to help me!” Is what I wanted to say, but I knew trying to ask for mercy from someone as stoic as her would be for nothing, taking time away to look for other candidates. Realizing this, I turned toward the growing collection of groups.

  I spun around, heart thudding like a war drum.

  Shit. Shit. There has to be someone. Someone who’ll take a chance on me. Anyone.

  Panic clamped down on my lungs. My limbs moved before thought could catch up—rushing from one group to the next, desperate, eyes wild. But every glance was a rejection. Every turned shoulder another nail in the coffin of my chances. I wasn’t seen. I wasn’t heard. Just a ghost drifting between clusters of promise, clutching at scraps of hope too thin to hold.

  I stumbled into a crowd. A large one—silent, tense. They formed a circle around something at the center, backs curved not in reverence, but restraint. Fear.

  Some tried to approach whatever was inside. Brave, foolish, or desperate like me. Each one was denied—harshly, instantly. Assassins cloaked in shadow, knights in gleaming armor, even ghosts made of pure spectral fire. None were accepted. They were dismissed like insects.

  And then I saw it. At the center of the circle stood a presence. No… pressure. Like the air itself bent around them.

  The demon. Of course.

  My stomach dropped. There was no hope. Not here.

  No. No, I have to try. They don’t know me, and I could convince them that I'm stronger than I actually am. If no one else wouldn’t, or couldn’t partner with them, I had to take advantage of the opportunity, and their strength.

  Pushing through the crowd, I approached the tower of scales. “Hey—”

  His head snapped toward me, baring dagger-like teeth. “Stop eyeing me, human. Go find someone that tolerates flesh-ridden weakness.”

  I exhaled sharply, trying to steady the tremor in my chest. Don’t back down. He’s just a really… convincing cosplayer. A ten-foot-tall, armor-scaled, soul-burning-eyed cosplayer from reptile hell.

  “I don’t see anyone else without a partner,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “Which means, like it or not—we’re together.”

  The demon snorted, folding his massive arms across a chest that could probably shrug off a tank shell. “You do not order me around, worm. I have crushed armies of your kind. Having you beside me would only hinder my capabilities.”

  Ah, the prideful type. Perfect. That, I could work with.

  “What a shame,” I said with a shrug, “but maybe you're right. Clearly, there are much stronger candidates here for me to partner with.”

  The room gave a low, ominous groan—like a beast growling in its sleep.

  “...What did you just say?” the demon rumbled.

  There we go. “I said maybe you’re not up to it, bud. Or was my vocabulary too advanced for your lizard brain?”

  A dangerous grin crept across his fanged maw. He began to laugh. Not loud, but low—like embers crackling before a wildfire. “I want to thank you, human…” he said, each word like a hammer hitting stone.

  “Oh, I’ve got plenty more where that came from, pal,” I smirked, trying to hide the fact that my knees were moments from giving out.

  How much longer could I fake this confidence?

  “... for giving me an excuse to hurt another.”

  I froze. What?

  Then—he moved. It was like a blink had teleported him. One instant, a safe distance away. The next, inches from me.

  I couldn’t even react. But my body felt it immediately.

  Pain. Real pain. The kind that shuts your brain off and makes your soul scream.

  His clawed hand had impaled me through the gut, fingers curved like blades and buried deep. My feet left the ground slightly as he held me in place like a macabre trophy.

  “You humans never understand what you see before you,” he said, voice low and reverent—like he was speaking to a corpse mid-eulogy.

  The crowd encircling us stood still, silent, unmoving. A few gasps broke through, scattered like debris from an explosion. Then came the laughter—soft, mocking, pitiful chuckles from those too broken to care or too cruel to feel.

  But none of them stepped forward. No one reached for me. No one shouted for him to stop, not even Captain Coastal.

  Because to interfere meant being next. To step into the ring was to die screaming. I wasn’t a student here. Not a candidate. Not a warrior.

  I was prey. His trophy. His entertainment. A momentary distraction before the next kill.

  My vision blurred, but rage gave me clarity where logic failed. I snarled, summoning what little strength I had, and kicked at the monster’s arm—desperate, wild. The impact sent a bolt of pain up my leg. His hide wasn’t skin—it was armor forged in hell. I might as well have kicked a wall of jagged iron. “L-let… GO!” I wheezed, blood bubbling at my lips.

  The demon didn’t flinch. If anything, he was amused.

  “Now you show a flicker of fear?” His voice rumbled with cruel delight. “Too little… too late.”

  He lifted me higher, claws still embedded in my gut. My feet dangled, twitching uselessly above the ground. “This is the end you deserve, little worm.”

  “Mmnf… f-fuck… h-help… someone… please—” My words dissolved into a bubbling cough. Blood splattered against his scales and ran down my chin. My vision blurred.

  So this was it. Not with glory. Not with triumph.

  Just a man—no, a dumb kid, coughing up life in front of strangers and monsters alike.

  But just as the last of my strength faltered, and my vision tunneled into shadow—

  A pulse.

  A warm light surged behind my ribs, pushing outward like a second heartbeat. The pain dulled, not gone, but softened by something other.

  A cold numbness began to overtake the pain—merciful at first, until I realized it wasn’t normal. The agony in my abdomen dulled, the sharp stabs softened into a distant throb, and then…

  Gone.

  A whisper, not from the air but from within the very marrow of my being, echoed through my skull like a warm current slicing through ice:

  “Do not worry, Micah. This is not how your story ends.”

  It was the Shepherd’s voice—calm, resonant, and impossibly steady. A presence that folded over me like a wool blanket against the void. I felt it not with my ears, but with every inch of myself. It wasn’t just words. It was truth.

  I gasped as light—soft and gold, like candlelight suspended in mist—began to bloom from the center of my chest. It pulsed slowly, then faster, until it spread outward through the wound. The demon’s claws withdrew involuntarily, as if burned, leaving not torn flesh behind, but threads of light stitching me back together from the inside out.

  Muscle knit itself. Skin closed. My shirt hung in tatters, but my body… my body was whole. Just like Lyras injury had healed itself, she wasn’t lying. I collapsed to one knee, chest heaving. No more blood poured out. Only breath—ragged, but alive.

  The crowd that had once stared in morbid amusement now looked on in a kind of hushed awe. Even the demon hesitated, brow furrowed as his smirk faded.

  “What trickery is this?” he snarled, his claws still stained with my blood. His eyes narrowed, glowing like embers ready to consume.

  I rose slowly, breath still ragged, but my legs no longer threatened to collapse beneath me. Strength—real, steady strength—was crawling back into my limbs like a fire being rekindled. The pain ebbed, replaced by warmth humming beneath my skin.

  This was the Shepherd’s power… but he didn’t need to know that.

  I met his gaze. “No trick,” I said, my voice cracked but firm. “I'm just stronger than you thought.”

  His lips curled into a snarl. “We’ll see where that strength goes when I tear your heart from your chest!”

  He lunged, but a voice cut through the air—calm, cold, and absolute. “No more, Voldres.” The Shepherd’s words echoed not just in the space around us, but within the marrow of our bones. “No one in here will die at your hand. Not in this realm. You cannot afford it.”

  Voldres froze mid-step, something sharp and almost fearful flickering behind his eyes. His head snapped toward the heavens—or whatever ceiling this impossible space pretended to have—and then back to me.

  “You…” His voice cracked, and it was not with rage, but disbelief. “You thought you could trick me?!” His face contorted in fury. “That wasn’t your strength. That was his! The damned puppet strings of our captor. Accursed divine intervention!”

  His body trembled, not with hesitation—but with a rage so potent it distorted the very air around him.

  “Do you think that makes you powerful, human?” he growled, venom seeping into every word. “Borrowed strength is still weakness. When he’s gone, when you’re on your own—what then?”

  I stood taller, the golden light of the Shepherd still threading through my veins. “Like he said, you can't afford it. We're the last.”

  Voldres took a step forward, but the floor beneath him rippled—no, recoiled. He stopped, eyes wide. The space was no longer his to dominate.

  The crowd that once watched in silence now whispered among themselves. The predator had been checked. And I wasn’t prey anymore.

  “He is right, Voldres. You ARE the only two remaining.”

  Voldres scoffed. “I will do this on my own.”

  “Per my declared rules, you are required to have an ally.”

  Wait, what? I was just bluffing. I can't partner with someone who actually has the gumption to hurt me. “Oh hell no!"

  “I agree with this one. I cant---you said no such thing!” He protested.

  “I did,” The Shepherd said, his voice unreadable. “Clearly, you were caught up in something of greater importance than listening.”

  Voldres let out a low, guttural growl that rumbled through the space like distant thunder. His claws twitched at his sides, each talon flexing with barely contained rage. His eyes bore into me—seething, primal, lethal. If it weren’t for the Shepherd’s invisible grip restraining him, I had no doubt he would’ve torn through me again without hesitation… and this time, he’d make sure I didn’t get back up.

  I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay upright under that crushing gaze. “Everyone has an ally?” I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt. “You sure? Absolutely no one else?”

  Silence answered me. Just like before. I scanned the room, hopeful, desperate for some overlooked opportunity. But no one stepped forward. No outstretched hand. No pity. Just a hundred eyes turning away, pretending not to see me, not to hear me.

  A few feet away, a feline-like creature wearing a white robe—upright, sleek, and half the size of anyone else—clutched tightly to the arm of a martial artist with wild, flaming hair. The way they held each other, you'd think they’d been through war side by side. Maybe they had. The fire-haired warrior didn’t even glance in my direction. None of them did.

  Everyone had found their person. Their protector. Their advantage.

  Everyone but me. My hands curled into fists at my sides. I turned slowly toward Voldres. His nostrils flared, his gaze like twin furnace doors. “Fuck it,” I said, taking a bold step forward. “You’re stuck with me, demon. Whether you like it or not.”

  A grin pulled across his jagged mouth, all fangs and sadism. “Oh, I like it,” he growled, voice rough like grinding stones. “But if you think for even a moment that means you’re safe, you’re more foolish than I imagined.”

  Before I could fire back, the Shepherd’s voice echoed through the realm, crisp and calm, cutting through the tension like a blade.

  “Now that each of you is partnered, you will be transported to a realm of my choosing. But before that—listen carefully. Your personal weapons have not been returned to you, and for good reason. No representative shall enter this trial with an unfair advantage. The same restriction has been placed upon those of you with enhanced biological or physiological capabilities. Your power must be rebuilt. From the ground up.”

  A wave of unease rolled through the crowd. Even the fiercest among them—silent ghosts, armored titans, and beings made of living shadow—shifted in discomfort.

  I felt it too. The panic under my skin, clawing to get out. Still weaponless. Still weak. Still clueless. Why us? Why me? Who were we supposed to face? Where were we going? And most of all—why?

  I opened my mouth, desperate for clarity. “Why—”

  “Goodbye,” the Shepherd said, her voice as calm and final as a closing door. “And may your wits carry your fortune.”

  That was the last thing I heard. The light around me collapsed inward, blinding white swallowing everything. Sound vanished. Weight vanished. Thought became static. And then—

  Nothing.