“So you’ll never do anything without consulting with me first.”
“Yes, Chief!” I say in a loud and clear voice as I present her with a military salute. She lets out a laugh.
On the obelisk, my stats appear.
Nykander v’Kyro. Level Unassigned. +12 Ascension Points. Total points: 150
We both nod, satisfied with this new advance.
“Let’s go get something to eat,” I say as I pull her arm through the crook of my elbow.
But just as we turn to leave, a shrill siren erupts across the entire realm.
The sound is unlike anything I have ever heard—high-pitched, metallic, and so piercing it seems to vibrate through bone rather than air. Around us, every conversation dies instantly. Every head snaps upward.
Then the sky splits as a figure descends from above.
A wraith.
He hovers high above the marketplace, suspended impossibly in the air as his voice booms across the entirety of Aimaxion, magnified until it seems to come from every direction at once.
“Attention, combatants of Aimaxion.”
Silence falls. Even the ever-restless market stills.
“The Culling Cycle has been initiated.”
A ripple of unease tears through the crowd. Some curse immediately. Others begin backing away from the open streets. A few simply go pale.
The wraith speaks again.
“Growth irregularities have been detected. Fighters whose ascension rate exceeds acceptable thresholds have been designated Open Bounties.”
The obelisks around the square flash in unison.
“During the next three hours, all marked targets may be attacked without restriction.”
My stomach drops.
The wraith continues, utterly emotionless.
“Upon termination of a marked target, the victorious combatant shall receive the entirety of the target’s accumulated Ascension Points.”
Gasps and murmurs erupt through the crowd, everyone excited for this opportunity.
“All obelisks will have the marked targets’ details.”
My blood turns to ice.
No. No, no…
The obelisk in front of us shifts again. Its surface goes black. Then new words carve themselves into the stone.
Marked Target Identified: Nykander v’Kyro. Level Unassigned. 150 Ascension Points
The world seems to stop. For one impossible second, there is no sound at all. Then every gaze in the square seems to turn toward me.
Moe grabs my arm. “Nyk?—”
