“And don’t fall.”
“Yes.”
“That seems manageable.”
I glance at him.
“You’ll have to follow instructions.”
He places a hand over his heart.
“I am deeply offended you think otherwise.”
The arena smellslike heated metal and dust.
The climbing structure rises above us like a mechanical jungle gym designed by someone with a grudge against contestants’ shoulder joints. Steel handholds glint under the stadium lights while rotating puzzle locks click quietly along the vertical pathways.
The horn sounds.
Teams surge forward.
Bron and I reach the first wall quickly, and I grab the lowest handhold while he moves to the opposite side of the structure.
“Left route,” I call.
“Got it.”
We start climbing.
The metal rungs are warm beneath my palms from the stadium lights, and the faint vibration of the machinery hums through the structure as the puzzle stations rotate into position.
Halfway up the first wall, Bron pauses.
“Puzzle node,” he says.
“I see it.”
The mechanism sits between us—three rotating rings etched with alien symbols.
“Outer ring clockwise,” I say.
He turns it.
The lock clicks.
“Middle ring counter.”
“Done.”
The final ring shifts into place with a heavy metallic clank.
A panel above us slides open, revealing the next climbing route.
“That was easy,” Bron says.
“Don’t jinx it.”
We climb higher.
