I turn.
The arena is coming apart.
The proto-beast barrels through a support structure near the central platform, its massive shoulder slamming into reinforced steel like it’s made of brittle glass. The tower buckles with a sickening groan before collapsing in a cascading avalanche of metal and dust.
The air fills with the acrid scent of burning circuitry and pulverized concrete.
“Jesus—” someone gasps nearby.
“Move!” I snap, grabbing another contestant who’s frozen in place. “If you can still stand, you can still run!”
They blink at me, dazed.
“Now!”
That word seems to punch through whatever paralysis has taken hold.
They sprint.
Good.
I pivot, scanning the chaos for anyone else within reach.
There.
Two more contestants crouched behind a collapsed barrier, shielding their heads like that’s going to do anything against a creature the size of a building.
“Hey!” I shout, sprinting toward them. “You’re not safe there!”
One of them looks up, eyes glassy with shock.
“It’s part of the show, right?” he says weakly.
I skid to a stop in front of him, grab the front of his shirt, and haul him upright.
“Does this look scripted to you?” I demand.
The ground trembles again, punctuating my point.
His expression shifts from confusion to horror.
“Exit tunnel,” I say, pointing. “Go. Don’t stop for anything.”
They go.
Good.
One step at a time.
One group at a time.
That’s how you handle chaos.
You don’t try to fix everything.
You just keep moving the line forward.
Behind me, something explodes.
