I was actually in the cage, with the other bottom placers to my left and right, and the other participants staring at me, almost as shocked as I was.

  The metallic smell infiltrated my nose. It wasn’t water below me—that was oil.

  The other caged ones protested, questioning and begging to be released. They didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t deserve to be in here. I didn’t disagree.

  I banged the bars of this birdcage. “Hey, this isn’t fair! For talking?! You’re putting us in here because I was talking?”

  “Yes,” the Saturial replied. “It’s the penalty. Your actions have consequences.”

  “Bullshit! You didn’t tell us the rules! I didn’t know we weren’t supposed to chat!”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to tell you. Read the room, boy. Get the picture from your fellow competitors. Don’t expect everything to be spoon-fed to you!”

  I scanned the crowd. Some people were hiding their gaze. Others were stoic. I caught an eye of the mummy—he looked like he was bracing for worse. The Scary Lady was displeased, meanwhile.

  “Spoon-fed?” I asked. My eyes snapped to the Saturial. “What part of our lives have ever been spoon-fed to us?”

  The Saturial groaned. “Please, can you just be quiet? Voluntary silence will go a long way—“

  “I’m going to give you a chance.”

  He raised a brow. “Pardon me?”

  “If you don’t release us, I promise you—I will hunt you down—“

  It happened instantly. A single frame of an image was all I registered—me still upright, the others unaware and looking up—before my eyes filled with white and burst. It happened so fast that they hadn’t noticed that I was suddenly in the tank, being boiled by oil.

  My body screamed. My eardrums melted. My skin burned. I let out a muffled yell instantly.

  And then I was not beneath oil. I was in the cage.

  My HP was held at one. Regeneration started as I screamed. I couldn’t handle it. My eyes reformed and let me see the metal below my knees. My skin was unbearable. It had regenerated, but I still felt the burn—I still felt like I had to claw at the skin to let my new skin breathe. My hearing returned. I could hear shocked gasps. And I could hear one person’s voice over the others—

  “Stop! He didn’t do anything wrong! He was just helping me! Put me in there! Not him!”

  My brain worked. I recognized the voice. I lifted my head and shouted.

  “Shut up, Noah! Don’t say anything stupid!”

  My vision was still blurry, but I could spot that blob of orange hair in the crowd.

  “Just shut up!”

  Noah quieted down—thank god.

  I, panting, stood back up in the cage and leveled a gaze at the Saturial, who looked back down at me, still frigid.

  “Do you understand now? I am the Overseer for this Trial. I have power over the proceedings. You don’t, 15th Place.”

  I took stock of myself. My HP that was held at 1 point had been replenished. That didn’t make sense. The oil was enough to take me down to zero. The replenishment solidified how controlled this was. Bastard was going to torture us without killing us, and the regen was going to help him do it.

  The cloak covering my lower half was intact, as was my pack, further showing the oil boiling below the cage to have a very specific purpose. These guys were going to bend reality as much as they could to make this penalty only have one clear effect—that being, burning the human but keeping him alive and healthy for the next rounds.

  I gripped the bars, ignoring the barbs on the exterior surface piercing my fingers. “Saturial, know that you have burned for yourself, a special place in my heart.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m touched,” he said. “Let’s move on. The 26 participants will line up. When it is your turn, you will simply state which one of the cages will be lowered and which will be risen. They will rise or descend in ‘steps.’ For example, if 15th Place were lowered three times consecutively, oil would touch his ankles. In other words, he can be lowered twice before being subjected to the punishment.”

  I raised a brow. “Oh, now you can explain, huh?”

  He shrugged. “It’s not intuitive. I’m obligated to explain.”

  I shoved down my resentment and focused. If I understood the rules correctly, it was totally possible to go through this penalty without any of us touching oil. Heck, just alternating between a pair would be enough, all because of the leeway with the amount of free lowering… but that meant that this penalty was designed for something else.

  I scanned the crowd once more. How many of these bastards were resentful?

  The Saturial spoke again. “As you all line up, I would like to remind you that this is all happening because of 15th’s actions. The other three—their only crime is being bested by 15th.”

  I shook my head in utter disbelief and resignation. “Fuck you.”

  So now he was making me out to be a villain deserving of punishment? For speaking? Goddammit.

  But we still had leeway.

  “No one needs to get hurt!” I said. “We can all get out of this without boiling!”

  A few of the participants gave me a courtesy nod as they lined up. But the silence from my fellow imprisoned was sickening. I looked at them. Nico looked like he was about to pass out, but the other two? These men looked like they had been whipped into silence. I was the one who got boiled, and they were quiet when they could be advocating for an even hand from our peers!

  “You will have ten seconds to decide,” the Saturial said. “If you don’t decide, it’ll be chosen at random, and for wasting everyone’s time, you may pick up a penalty too.” The Saturial clasped his hand. “Alright. Everyone’s lined up. Let’s get this over with.”

  Seeing him treat this like it was a hassle just further bent something in me.

  The first person came up. “Lower 15th; raise 30th.”

  My cage went down with a jerk. The other guy’s didn’t go up at all–that must have been the limit.

  I stared at that first guy. He shrugged like he had no other choice. Don’t know why he did that. I wasn’t mad at him.

  The second came. “Lower 15th; raise 30th.”

  “Mother fucker,” I muttered.

  “Sorry,” he muttered back.

  “Do me the respect of looking me in the eyes when you screw me over,” I shot back.

  The third came up—a sleazy looking man with wet hair. “I’ll look you in the eyes. Lower 15th; raise 30th.”

  I braced. Bards pierced my fingers as they tightened around the bars. People gasped. The cage jerked. Oil came up to my ankles. A grunt rumbled from my throat. My feet were cooking like chicken in a deep fryer. I kept my eyes on it, hard exhales pushed out my nostrils, my HP not changing. Thought so–this oil was funky with the way it damaged us. I kept my focus on that–seeing how this torture worked. My feet were boiling, but the visual damage plateaued. That didn’t mean it stopped. God only knew what was happening beneath the skin.

  The fourth person came up–the Scary Lady. My eyes met hers–I saw sincere concern in them. She nodded slightly. “You keep grudges, right?”

  “You better believe I do,” I rasped back.

  “Lower 30th; raise 15th.”

  With a jerk, my cage rose a step, and my feet regenerated. I lost one point of HP.

  “Diabolical bastard,” I said, panting, trying to get over the echoes of the pain.

  The fifth came up–a pale woman who looked a bit fuller than a starving villager would be. “Lower 30th; raise 15th.”

  The cages jerked, with 30th letting out a squeal. “Hey!” 30th yelled. “I know some of you! We’ve been in these Trials together! Don’t punish me when this is all him!” he cried.

  The sixth came up–the faces were blending together. “Raise 30th; lower 28th.”

  “Oh, finally,” I said, happy that we were playing this smart.

  “No!” Nico cried. “It’s not fair! I didn’t do anything wrong! Please, I can’t handle the heat! I’ll pass out! I’ll die!”

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  “Nico, shut up!” Noah yelled from the crowd.

  Nico’s voice turned shrill. “It’s not fair! I didn’t do anything wrong! Set’s the one in trouble! I want to go home! Just like all of you!”

  The seventh arrived with a groan. He was a roguish one, a bronze-skinned, wiry man with his body hidden by a black cloak. “This isn’t a hard choice. The ones who should be penalized are the ones who are going to be penalized at the end. I’d pick 30th, but 28th’s a bitch. His brother should have slapped him. Lower 28th; raise 15th.”

  That was one heck of a move—the guy just firmly established his way of thinking. I silently thanked him.

  I was at the highest, 30th could drop once more safely. 29th was untouched. 28th—Nico—would touch oil with his next drop.

  We didn’t have to be stupid. We could keep people unhurt—

  “Seriously?! You’re going to hurt that poor kid?!” 30th yelled. “He doesn’t deserve this when 15th is right there!”

  The eighth person stepped up, looking pretty certain of their choice.

  30th let out a nasty screech, like he was raging against the world that refused to listen to him. And then he looked at me.

  My gaze narrowed—that goddamn sack of mushroom fertilizer—was about to do something annoying.

  “It’s 15th! He Smited me!” 30th roared.

  Nico yelped immediately. “Me too! Set Smited me too!”

  “Yeah!” 30th followed. “Everyone, raise your hand if 15th Smited you!”

  I just started counting the seconds. The people I Smited, except for Muscles, raised their hands.

  Noah looked around, frantic. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

  “See?!” 30th roared. “15th is bad news! He’s dangerous! That’s who we’re up against!”

  The eight person’s gaze snapped to me. “Raise 28th; lower 15th.”

  The cages jerked. I looked at 30th with a wide grin. He winced and pressed his back against his cage.

  “I’m going to shove my shiny metal fist so far up your ass that I’ll hook the bend with my finger and fish out your entrails. It’s not a promise; it’s an inevitability.”

  The ninth person came up—an older guy with a stern face. “You shouldn’t make threats when you’re in danger of being cooked alive. Have some decency.”

  “If you’re such a moral paragon, why’d you leave three newcomers to fend for themselves?”

  The man scoffed. “Lower 15th; raise 30th. You’ll get what you deserve.”

  “Say that without your knees shaking,” I shot back, cage jerking.

  Nico, meanwhile, cheered for his salvation.

  Scary Lady let out a loud laugh. “Are you all serious? You’re actually pissing off the man who can Smite at will? Come on now. Where’s your sense of preservation?”

  Another cried out. “We’re weakening him. We won’t have to worry about him if we break him now!”

  A few others agreed with that sentiment. I noted their faces.

  The 10th person came and pointed at me. “Lower 15th; raise 30th.”

  Screw that. I moved faster than the cage, equipping New Arm. My feet went to the top, my right hand gripped a bar—barbs be damned—and New Arm’s palm planted against the bottom of the cage.

  The cage lowered. Oil entered. New Arm was submerged up to the wrist.

  I let out the same groan as before, but this time, I was faking it.

  I didn’t care how stupid it sounded or how stupid I looked with my bottoms falling over me. I wasn’t going to let them torture me that easily.

  I was happy to let them think that they were, though.

  Some murmured, impressed that I had an arm and that I would go so far.

  That guy next to me—30th—wasn’t impressed at all. “See? Where did that arm come from? 15th is a monster! We have to weaken him as much as we can!”

  “No, you don’t,” I yelled. “That doesn’t even make sense! How are you going to weaken me? We all heal! All you’re doing is pissing me off!”

  The 11th walked up. “Lower 15th; raise 28th.”

  The cage jerked and descended. The oil was up to my elbow, with sprinkles occasionally touching my nose. Another drop and my face would burn.

  I stole a glance at the next person–Pretty Boy.

  He stared for a second. I put in the effort to make my gaze linger on him for a bit.

  “Lower 28th; raise 15th.”

  Nico’s cry erupted, along with the sound of him pounding the bars of his cage. Meanwhile, I was raised so that only my palm was submerged.

  “Thank you!” I roared.

  I gritted my teeth. I was almost halfway there. I just had to keep planting the fear of god into these people.

  The 13th walked up, her gaze lingering on Pretty Boy as he passed.

  “Lower 28th; raise 15th,” she said, evidently in lockstep with Pretty Boy. Wow–I had never been so thankful that someone else had a nice face.

  The cages jerked–mine and Nico’s. He was going to touch oil.

  He didn’t scream—not at first. His voice cracked once, then fell into a panicked whimper, like he was trying to swallow the fear down before it broke free. His feet scrambled against the bars, trying to find some leverage, but he wasn’t strong enough, or fast enough.

  The oil kissed his soles. Then it climbed.

  “Ah—ah, gods—my feet—my feet!” he shrieked, slamming his palms against the cage walls, too panicked to grab hold, too weak to even lift his legs out of the basin. “It’s burning—it’s—stop—stop—!”

  The smell hit before the full scream, making me recall my own burning. Flesh searing. Boiling blisters rise up the skin in an instant. For Nico, his shoes were probably melting into his skin.

  “Nico!” I yelled, trying to catch sight of him, past 29th. “Don’t splash around so much! Don’t lift your feet out if you can’t keep them out! Trust me! Don’t waste your healing over and over! You’ll heal it later once! Just bear it, Nico!”

  I quickly looked at the line-up, ignoring my throbbing neck–it was Noah next. We locked eyes. He nodded at me. I nodded back. Noah was smart. He knew there was no downside to raising Nico.

  But then–

  “One moment.”

  –the Saturial spoke.

  “Wait, I want to raise Nico–28th, I mean!” Noah yelled.

  “Quiet. You’ll like this, First Place.”

  I unleashed a million curses beneath my breath. He was jamming up the proceedings while Nico was flailing like a live fish in a frying pan.

  “We’re halfway through. You get a special choice, First. Good job getting into that spot… Maybe you’re more clever than you look?”

  “Hurry! Please, sir! Please!” Noah yelled.

  The Saturial shrugged. “First Place, you can decide which of the four is removed from the penalty.”

  Murmurs were had. I was confused, too. Just like that? Just one? What was the purpose of that? The strategy to keep people out of the oil just needed two. Removing one option did nothing but–

  I gritted my teeth so hard I heard them crack. “You all are the worst kind of degenerates,” I muttered, sweat trickling into the oil.

  “Feel free to consult with the others. You have one minute.”

  “Noah! Help!” Nico cried. “I can’t! I can’t! I’m gonna fall! Noah! Big Brother! Help!”

  Noah mouth moved, but no words came out. His eyes were darting between me and Nico.

  A voice boomed. “Get 15th out of there! Stop letting these people be tempted!” yelled the roguish man who accurately pegged Nico as a bitch. “The only ones who stand to get punished are the losers!”

  A woman who condemned me quickly countered with, “It was 15th who brought this upon himself! He deserves to shoulder it! Keep him in!”

  “But he was helping me!” Noah yelled.

  I couldn’t make sense of this argument. The answer was simple for Noah. I looked at the Saturial–the bastard could at least show some emotion, but he was just yawning, as if Nico’s screams and shrieks weren’t nightmarish.

  “NOAH!”

  Everyone shut up and looked at me.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Noah!” I yelled. “Think about where you’re going to be after this! Don’t be stupid! You have the easiest choice! It’s a no-brainer!”

  Noah—the idiot—wiped his eyes. “Thank you!!! Please free 28th!”

  The Saturial sighed. “Yeah. Sure. Done.”

  Nico, still screaming, landed beside Noah.

  Noah dropped to his knees the second Nico landed beside him. The kid was still screaming, but the pitch had thinned out—gone high and ragged, like his lungs were trying to keep up with a pain they didn’t have the air for.

  “Hey! Hey, it’s okay—it’s okay now!” Noah cried, fumbling with Nico’s arms. Nico’s legs were drawn up tight, trembling, his heels twitching like they were still on fire.

  They were healing from what I could catch. His shoes were untouched too–I had forgotten this oil wasn’t normal.

  Nico clutched Noah like a drowning man. His breath caught in sharp, shallow gasps. He wasn’t even crying properly—he just kept mouthing words that wouldn’t come out.

  “See?” I muttered, not even sure who I was talking to anymore. “You heal. You just have to live through it.”

  “Spoken like a true idiot,” came that smooth, scornful voice. “The kid screwed you over. You’re in there throwing threats like a big man, but you let the kid out? You don’t realize this, 15th, but everyone here has a reason to target you.”

  “Good!” I yelled. “Give me a reason to bring carnage to your feet!”

  The 14th walked up. I recognized him as Scary Lady’s enemy. “Lower 15th; raise 29th.”

  The cage jerked. I was one jerk away from having my face burn again.

  The 15th came–Muscles. “Lower 15th; raise 30th.”

  Here it came. I quickly activated my Levels and pulled off an extreme maneuver, using my right hand’s grip on the cage and the extra strength from my Levels. For an instant, I was like a monkey as I reoriented within the cage.

  I ended up hanging, with my metal fingers wrapped around the extremely barred top of the cage, bars between my big toes and the rest, and my back to the boiling oil.

  The crowd gasped at the display. They had better. I was holding back this little trump card of mine for a while. Who cared about barbs when their hand was metal?

  “I don’t care how much dick and balls is in the final image! Sear this sight into your eyes! This is how far I’ll go!” I roared. “Mess with me! I dare you!”

  The 16th was next–it was the Mummy. I braced for some rage, but was surprised.

  “Can I see your eyes, lad?” he asked.

  I looked at him–the guy with the bandages falling slack across his face. He nodded slowly.

  “Raise 15th; lower 30th.”

  The crowd gasped, and the Mummy shrugged.

  “Why are we playing this game? We’re only making things worse for ourselves.”

  Bless that Mummy. His contribution caused a shift. The next few participants just alternated between 29th and 30th. Finally. It took so much flesh being boiled, but finally they were playing this the way it should have been played.

  It also helped that the roguish man and Scary Lady were congratulating people for finding a brain as well.

  But then, 24th and 25th decided to be funny guys and made me lower twice in a row.

  “I’m going to remember you bastards,” I said.

  The oil was right there. My heels were already being burned–the cage was just too cramped. One more drop, and my entire back would be burned for sure. I looked at the final person–Redhead.

  “So, what’s it gonna be?” I asked.

  Redhead sighed, looking exhausted. “I think 30th should probably feel what boiling is like.”

  “Huh?! What?!” 30th yelled.

  “Lower 30th; raise 15th.”

  The cages jerked. My back was safe. 30th screamed as his feet were cooked. The Saturial spoke.

  “Okay, let’s just hold it there for ten seconds,” he said, dusting off his punched-in tophat. “Alright, there we go. The penalty game is over. Hope the pain’s been educational, 15th.”

  And just like that, I fell onto my back, with nothing but stone ceiling above me, and stone floor below me.

  “We’re moving on to the Second Round.”