Year 2050

  Month 3

  The Arena: Day 30

  Dante’s body twisted in mid-air, time seeming to slow as he calculated the distance. The ledge he’d just leapt from retracted into the wall behind him as if it had crumbled. The next platform awaited ten feet away, its white surface slick with what appeared to be oil.

  No time to second-guess.

  He tucked his body, rolled with the landing, and distributed the impact as best he could. Momentum carried him into a slick slide, boots skimming across the oily surface toward the edge.

  No time to brake.

  He launched himself again, legs coiling and releasing in one motion. Hands snatched a horizontal bar mid-air—his weight swung low, then high. The bar trembled under the force, but he didn’t hesitate.

  The drop below was covered with darkness.

  I know there is something down there to catch me but damn it’s so dark its fucking with my head.

  Ok focus I have to move quick.

  The course stretched ahead—platforms at odd angles, rails hung between walls, narrow paths with barely enough room to land. Clean white surfaces made it hard to judge depth, and red lights flashed on and off, throwing off his timing.

  He kicked off the swing and launched himself up to the next ledge. Landed, kept moving. Another jump. Another climb.

  No breaks. Just keep going.

  He glanced at the holographic timer floating near him.

  Almost halfway through the allotted time. Not good enough.

  Ahead, a series of narrow poles extended vertically from floor to ceiling. Too far apart to jump between, too smooth to climb easily. Dante barely slowed as he approached, analyzing and discarding potential solutions.

  He launched himself at the first pole, wrapping around it as momentum carried him upward in a tight spiral. At the peak of the swing, he kicked off—body twisting mid-air to grab the second pole. The jolt shot up his shoulder, but he gritted through it.

  Catch. Spiral. Leap. Again and again, closing the gap one pole at a time.

  By the time he reached the last one, his arms burned, but he didn’t stop.

  From there, he swung to a hanging chain, the metal links biting into his palms as he climbed hand-over-hand to the next level.

  The course became increasingly complex. A section of floor panels rotated beneath his feet, forcing him to grab a nearby rope and swing out of danger. A wall that seemed scalable revealed handholds that mechanically retracted.

  Next came a narrow beam stretching across a gap. As soon as he stepped on, it rotated beneath him. Dante didn’t hesitate—he instantly shifted into a sprint, using the spin to carry him forward instead of fighting it.

  As his boots hit solid ground again, a curved wall angled up ahead. No time to think. He sprinted toward it and launched into a wall-run, feet slapping against the surface. A thick rope dangled across the gap at mid-height. He reached for it mid-run, caught it, and swung out wide—momentum lifting him in a tight arc above the pit. At the peak, he let go and landed hard on the opposite ledge, dropping into a roll to absorb the impact.

  Dante took a moment to catch his breath and glance at the time remaining.

  Ah fuck me. I don’t even have time to catch my breath!

  Ok, Dante, move, move, move!

  The exit was in sight now—a red-framed doorway at the top of what looked like a sheer wall.

  He approached the wall at full sprint, leaping as high as possible and catching a tiny protrusion with his fingertips. His muscles screamed as he pulled himself up inch by inch, finding minuscule holds for his toes and fingers.

  Halfway up, the mechanical holds began to retract into the wall.

  “Shit,” Dante hissed, abandoning his methodical climb for desperate scrambling. He lunged upward repeatedly, each time expecting to fall.

  With a final explosive push, he caught the edge of the doorway and hauled himself through, rolling onto a flat surface beyond.

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  “Phase one complete. You have fifty-nine seconds before phase two,” the intercom announced.

  …

  As he caught his breath, panels slid open along the walls. Five other figures entered, each wearing the same white training uniform as Dante.

  “Phase two initiates in five... four... three... two... one...”

  A holographic display materialized in the center of the room, showing a complex three-dimensional map of what appeared to be an enormous maze. At six different points, dots pulsed—one white, the others in various colors. Dante’s position was marked in white.

  “Objective: Acquire the key and use it to retrieve the ring.”

  Dante studied the map quickly, memorizing key junctions and the shortest route to the objective. A glowing yellow marker indicated the key’s location, while a red marker showed the ring’s position at the map’s center.

  “Begin.”

  The six participants sprinted toward a single exit door, instantly creating a bottleneck. Dante found himself wedged between two competitors, both physically larger than him. Rather than force his way through, he dropped low, sliding between legs and coming up on the other side with a small lead.

  The chamber beyond was massive, constructed to mimic an urban landscape. Fa?ades resembling buildings rose on either side of a narrow “street.” Gaps of varying widths separated these structures, simulating alleyways and side streets.

  Some buildings stood only a single story tall, while others towered three or four levels high. Vehicle mockups—cars, buses, trucks—were positioned strategically throughout the course.

  Dante took the fire escape on the nearest building, climbing fast while scanning for the quickest route.

  The key was visible now—hanging above a central plaza, only reachable from the rooftops around it.

  As he hit the roof, he broke into a sprint, jumping a narrow gap to the next building. He landed in a roll and kept moving. The surface beneath him alternated between flat sections and angled slopes, forcing constant adjustments to his stride.

  Ahead, a gap too wide to jump stretched between buildings.

  No way I’m clearing that with a straight jump.

  He ran to a vertical pipe on the wall’s edge, grabbed it, and swung around to build momentum. Then he launched himself across. His hands caught a windowsill on the other side, muscles straining as he pulled himself up.

  Movement to his right—someone else, running a parallel route, jumping from a car hood to a low balcony.

  Can’t fall behind.

  He pushed harder. Vaulted a vent unit, slid under a horizontal pipe, jumped between ledges with barely enough space to land.

  There. That’s the key—just hanging there.

  It was suspended on cables stretched between four rooftops.

  To get to it, I’ll have to cross that beam… then figure out how to move on the cable. If I don’t fall first.

  As he neared the beam, he spotted another runner already halfway across.

  I won’t make it in time that way.

  But then he saw it—another route, lower and trickier, but maybe faster.

  Dante dropped down to a window ledge, then to an awning below. The fabric sagged under his weight but held.

  He used the bounce to propel himself to a streetlight, swinging around it before launching to the roof of a vehicle. From there, he leapt to a low wall, ran along its narrow edge, and finally climbed a drainpipe.

  He emerged just as the other competitor reached for the key.

  The two stopped for a moment as they stared at each other.

  Time seemed to slow down for a second.

  …

  And then they burst into action.

  The masked figure grabbed the key and immediately changed direction, rushing toward an alternate exit route. Dante was already in motion, cutting across the rooftop to intercept.

  They collided at the edge of the building and tumbled onto a sloped surface below. The key clattered out of reach.

  Dante lunged for it, but his opponent was quicker, delivering a sharp strike to Dante’s extended arm.

  Dante rolled with the hit, sprang back up, and countered with a sweeping kick that caught the figure off guard. His opponent stumbled.

  He snatched the key, vaulted over a railing, and dropped to a lower level.

  Footsteps pounded behind him as he sprinted across a narrow plank connecting to another building.

  Dante vaulted from the rooftop, catching hold of a horizontal flagpole. He swung wide, building momentum before releasing at the peak of the arc. His body flew through the air, just barely clearing the open window of the tower. He landed in a roll, skidding to a stop inside.

  Two competitors were already there, fumbling with the glass case that held the ring. They turned the instant Dante hit the floor, eyes locking on the key in his hand.

  One rushed straight at him. The other moved to flank.

  Dante met the charge head-on, deflecting the first blow and driving a counterstrike into the attacker’s shoulder.

  He spun immediately to face the second attacker, but not quickly enough to completely avoid the blow to his ribs.

  He staggered back, creating distance. The case was just meters away, but both opponents now stood between him and the goal.

  Then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye—a third figure climbing in through the window.

  I have to move quick or else I’ll be completely overwhelmed.

  Dante feinted toward one attacker, then abruptly pivoted, launching into a low slide across the polished floor. He slipped between them, hitting the case as they turned too late to stop him. The key clicked into the lock. The glass retracted. His fingers closed around the ring.

  “Phase two complete,” the intercom announced.

  The tension broke instantly. His attackers stepped back, returning to neutral stances. Others arriving at the chamber froze in place.

  Dante stood, breath ragged, clutching the ring.

  “Phase three will begin immediately,” the voice continued. “Objective: Return the ring to the starting point while evading pursuit. If if the ring is taken—assessment fails. Phase four will begin for all others except the ring bearer”

  …

  Fuck.

  “Begin.”