THEOS

Luke’s eyes darted to Arya’s collapsed form and the robot beside her counting the seconds on its fingers, and then towards Spiros. Much to Luke’s frustration he was so focused on climbing to the next step, that he hadn’t even seen Arya stumble and collapse, leaving Luke in a conundrum. Did he help or not?

Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for Arya, he didn’t have much time to think about it. The smart thing to do would be to leave her, and allow her to be eliminated, but of all the stupid things he had done so far, this didn’t rank all that high.

Luke’s reasoning rang hollow even to himself, but he knew deep down he would regret it if he didn’t help her, and for more than one reason. And, he had been keeping close track of the number of people still in the game– only one more person needed to fall behind for the rest of them to advance to the next stage of the tournament. Rex had even rested for long enough that he would be able to continue under his own power for the remaining duration, and Luke had enough in his tank to go for hours longer if needed even now. It wouldn’t take too much added effort to swap between carrying Arya and Rex if it really came down to it. None of them were great reasons to help what was supposed to be two strangers in a tournament, but he decided that he didn’t care much, as they weren’t actually strangers. Even if he was the only one to know that.

Was it reckless, yes. Would it make sense if he tried to explain it, not really. He shrugged Rex off his shoulders anyway.

“I’ll be right back.” He said quietly, and bothering to wait for a response, he kicked off the ground towards Arya.

His ring flashed and his sword appeared in his hand, cutting loose for the first time since the tournament started and empowered by his sword's abilities, he moved.

Having spent most of the trial traveling at a rather sedate pace to conserve his stamina, letting loose felt better than he thought it would. There was a primal satisfaction he found in pushing himself as hard as he physically could. Something he had developed an appetite for since his first moments on Theos, and something he was just now realizing he craved. Sometimes he even wondered if that was an effect of the Seed, subtly pushing him to cultivate more, but deep down, he knew, or at least hoped, it wasn’t. Cultivation simply felt good. Combining that with the fact that working himself to exhaustion, put his mind at ease. It wasn’t a surprise that he had developed what he thought might be an addiction to it.

“Where are you going?” Rex shouted after him. A grin stretched across his face, and he ignored him. There was no time to explain.

Fractions of a second before the robot of liquid metal pushed her down the step and eliminated her, he swiped at its neck with his sword. Like an acrobat, it bent backwards horizontally at its waist, dodging Luke’s attack.

Scooping Arya off the ground, Luke didn’t wait for it to correct itself before he pressed on toward the next step.

The second he made it, regret instantly filled his entire being. Swallowing the spit in his mouth, he looked down at Arya in his arms, only to find her looking up to him with wide and familiar brown eyes.

Holy fuck, this was such a bad idea.

“Hi.” Luke said, suddenly aware of his own lungs, how often he blinked, and the fact that he was drenched in sweat and probably smelled like it too. Sweat that wasn’t even all his. He had never regretted carrying Rex more.

She blushed red, and broke eye contact. “Hi?”

“I’m Luke.”

“I know… you told me your name earlier. I’m Arya.”

“I remember too.”

Another robot started counting down next to him, and not in the mood to optimize his step to conserve energy, he brute forced his movements to the next step, and then the next.

“So this is a little weird. Do you want me to put you down?”

“I… Why are you carrying me?”

“Well, we were only a single person away from the next stage and I uh… I didn't want you to lose?” Luke said truthfully, feeling heat rising in his own face. He had never really thought about it before, but Arya was beautiful, and now he was holding her. In his arms. Him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Luke thought, as his heart hammered away in his chest, and hoping beyond hope that she couldn’t feel it. Considering the fact that he could hear it thumping though, he doubted that she couldn’t.

Moving onto the next step, he felt someone step beside him. Looking to his right, he found Spiros staring at him. His expression was blank, and his arms crossed over his chest.

Swallowing the spit that had somehow accumulated in his mouth, he looked behind him, only to find Rex struggling up the stairs with a shit eating grin plastered across his face. Their eyes briefly locked, and then the emperor’s grandson nodded and gave him an encouraging thumbs up while he patted himself on the chest.

Why’s he patting his chest…

He looked back at Arya only to find her looking at Rex as well.

The blood drained from his face, and it was only the fact that a robot stepped in front of him and began counting that broke him out of his shock, and he gained enough mental capacity to remember to take the next step.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I uh… It’s not what it looks like. Rex isn’t the brightest guy I know, one time he even tried drinking milk.. Never mind. Um, do you want me to put you down?” He asked her again.

Arya took a deep breath in his arms and closed her eyes, before opening them and looking at Spiros. Something unsaid passed between the two, and Spiros shook his head.

“Sorry Arya, I’m in love with Helen, and you know I promised her never to touch another woman. She thought I was joking, but I’m a man of my word. I can’t carry you, but if this guy does anything, say the word, and I’ll take care of him.” His ring flashed, and a golden spear appeared in hand, with its butt planted onto the ground. Grinning challengingly, he lifted it in the air, and pointed the business end at Luke.

“What… I wouldn’t do… what?” Luke stammered, while he glanced between the gleaming tip of the spear inches from his nose, and the women in his arms.

Rex’s ring flashed, and a bow appeared in his hands. He drew it back, and leveled an arrow at Spiros head. “Put that away, or I’ll shoot, and don’t think I’m bluffing, I promise I’m not. I’ll do it. I shot Zeus himself, so I’m sure as hell not afraid of you.”

“Says the guy who needed to be carried by two different people to even get this far. Please. And there’s no killing here. I wouldn’t test a god’s patience if I were you.” Spiros scoffed.

Rex grinned, and angled his bow so it was pointing between Spiros’s legs. “You make a good point.”

Luke’s mind ground down to a halt.

I fucking give up.

“Alright, that’s enough. Let’s put the weapons away.” Arya said, squirming in Luke’s grip. “Can you let me down? And let’s all move up a step. No need to get violent here, alright?”

“Oh… right.” Luke nodded, and dropped her to the floor. Shaking his head slightly in annoyance as he moved up a step. He turned around, and saw her struggle forward, and after a moment's hesitation, held out his own hand. She stared at it, and then back at him, before accepting it, and Luke pulled her forward.

“Thank you– for saving me. Now, why are you helping me?” She asked.

“Why am I helping you?” Luke parroted blankly.

Spiros scoffed. “The same reason he was laughing at your dumb joke earlier, he thinks you're pretty.”

It took Luke a moment to remember that Arya had joked about him pooping his pants.

“I… that’s not…” Luke scrambled for something to say that would neither make this awkward or give him away, before he stopped himself. What Spiros said certainly wasn’t the truth, at least not entirely. Arya was pretty, but that wasn’t why he had helped her.

She was his friend even though she didn’t know it, and it truly would have been a shame to see her eliminated so close to the next round and miss out on what were bound to be truly astronomical prizes.

Opportunities like these, Luke recognized, didn’t come often in the lives of cultivators, and he wanted her to continue advancing.

He wanted all of them too.

It was something he hadn’t thought about extensively in the past, but cultivation wasn’t just getting stronger. It was a longer life, better health, and more freedom. If a few seconds of effort and awkwardness on his part could give her or any of those, then he would gladly pay that price. Afterall, if she won something from the tournament that let her advance to the Hero tier or even higher, where she otherwise might not– well that was the difference between living centuries and millennia. Numbers that still blew Luke’s mind.

Besides, even though she didn’t know who he was right now, that didn’t mean he couldn’t tell her either. Nor did it mean, he couldn’t rekindle his friendship with the pair at a later time as his true self, and come clean about his deception once he was more comfortable in his position in the world and once he tied up some loose ends more thoroughly.

And I don’t know. I didn’t know them for that long, but I sincerely doubt that either of them will hand me over to Arke even if they knew my true identity and what I possessed, not that I ever will tell them. It’s not like knowing I have something that tells me how to be a god, will do them any favors. No, that’s one secret I’ll keep until I’m confident that no one will be able to hurt me with it. Which will probably be never. He realized.

Even if he himself became strong enough to fight off whoever lusted after the prize bonded to his soul, there were more ways to get to it, than by attacking him. He didn’t know what decision he would make in the future, if some nefarious entity held someone he loved hostage, but just thinking about it served to make him both deeply unnerved him, and made him angry.

Reigning his thoughts in, he shook his head, and climbed to the next step. Extending his hand out to pull Arya along with him as he climbed.

“I helped because I could, and because I wanted to.” Luke said eventually. “There’s not much more to it, and I don’t need to be paid back or anything.”

Spiros looked at him, before shrugging his shoulders. “If Arya’s fine with it, it’s none of my business. But do anything weird, and you won’t get the chance to regret it.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Luke asked, unable to mask his annoyance at the suspicion.

“Please.” Spiros scoffed. “I recognize your type. Pretty-boy sons of Posiedon, daddy’s a god, so you’ll get away with everything. Tch.”

“What?” Rex yelled suddenly. “You’re a son of a god too? That… that explains–”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t know who my parents are Rex.” Luke said annoyed, and more than a little paranoid. “Don’t go calling me a son of a god, when I’m probably not. I don’t want to get into any trouble or anything.”

Spiros scratched his chin. “Well you could be a bastard of one of his sons or grandsons, or great grandsons? They’re pretty common in Troy. You’re not from Troy are you?”

“I’m from Sylcra.” Luke answered tiredly.

“I–” Spiros started to say, but before he could finish all of their visions were obstructed by flickers of red and orange light.

They had passed the trial.