"Come on, dice of fortune, give me a twenty."
With a confidence that sounded more like fantasy than reality, I let it out.
—I've led dozens of heroes to defeat enormous armies.
"In dozens of fictional worlds, I forgot to add."
Paul and Geronimo looked at each other in confusion, but almost immediately they began to mutter.
—Damn, like Julius Caesar? —Paul said.
—Ah… I see —Geronimo said, bowing his head slightly—. A natural leader. Well, that explains the lack of physical skill; your brilliance must lie in directing.
Paul nodded, carefully swinging his axe.
—If you can coordinate your allies in real combat… maybe you've got a chance, kid.
—In fact —Geronimo said—. Let's run a test. Guide me; I'll do everything you say to defeat this old buffalo.
—What? —was the only thing that came out of my mouth.
"Shit, what have I gotten myself into?"
Without a doubt, this was the worst possible situation.
In front of me, Paul and Geronimo had taken positions at opposite ends of the quadrilateral barely enclosed by rusted fences that screeched whenever the wind passed through. It was one of the hundreds of training spaces, but to me it looked more like an execution arena.
"Brilliant idea, Tristan! Of course you're a great general—in Ivalice or Hyrule."
My hands were sweating as I read the fluorescent screen in front of me: [Search I].
"Damn dice of fate, I was supposed to roll a 20—not against me!"
How the hell did I come up with that excuse? The worst part was that it worked, and now, with my heart in my throat, I had to prove my "skills."
Paul spun his axe with ease. The metallic gleam threatened to split in two anything it touched. Geronimo, on the other hand, stood in guard, knife in hand, eyes fixed on his rival.
—Come on, kid, don't disappoint me —Paul said mockingly.
"Alright, Tristan, let's calm down."
I still couldn't understand how we went from enemies to me having to take part in a practice fight, guiding the bastard who stabbed me.
—Young man, focus —Geronimo said without turning around—. Don't worry, no one will get hurt if you fail. I'll do whatever you order, I just need you to trust the system.
"Didn't you mean trust the Force, Luke?"
There was no other option; better to get it over with. So placing my hand over the HUD, I shouted at the top of my lungs:
—S-Search I!
Immediately, the translucent screen expanded before me, floating at eye level. A board instantly formed, marking the dimensions of the quadrilateral, and on it, three tokens: two white ones with light blue illumination and one black one with magenta light.
"White team and black team."
The thought crossed my mind. Above the tokens, small labels read:
[White: Geronimo Rank Steel][Black: Paul Bunyan Rank Silver]
"A Silver rank and a Steel rank—that explains the beating they gave us. The system isn't balanced at all."
Exploring the new screen quickly, I noticed I could select the tokens, so I touched Geronimo's. A new pop-up window opened with what appeared to be his statistics.
His name appeared alongside two five-pointed stars.
The larger star was divided into five segments, though all were covered by question marks. In the center of the star, I could only see a blinking number: a large "6."
"So Geronimo is level 6."
The second star was more traditional, five points, and on each one a stat, but again there was no real data:
[ATK | ?][DEF | ?][SPD | ?][PRE | ?][STAR | ?]
The discovery of my brand-new skill was becoming extremely disappointing. The information was minimal: only player location and level. I couldn't even be sure whether their names appeared because I already knew them or because the system revealed my opponents' identities.
—Is this it? —I muttered.
—What was that? —Paul growled, advancing with the axe ready.
—Nothing, nothing! —I answered quickly.
"Damn it, is this the best that damn little gift can give me?"
In frustration, I slapped the screen, leaving my palm pressed against the small interactive map. Suddenly it felt as if an electric current ran through my body. An avalanche of impossible calculations surged before my eyes: vectors measuring trajectories, vertices forming angles, projections of force and speed. They were so fast and complex I could barely retain them, yet somehow I felt I understood them on an instinctive level.
Paul let out a roar and announced:
—I'm attacking!
—Young man, your orders! —Geronimo shot back eagerly.
After a moment my mind processed the information, and calmly before me it traced, as if forming a vector model of Paul, how he advanced and launched a cut to Geronimo's right. I shouted:
—Right! He's attacking from your right!
Paul arched an eyebrow, surprised, as he swung from the right. Geronimo, obeying my nervous command, moved instantly and dodged the axe strike. The blade whistled inches from his face, slicing off a few strands of the Apache's long black hair.
—Don't attack! —the system screamed in its own way; a counterattack was coming.
The Apache froze, confused but obedient, and leapt backward. Paul had used the momentum of his first strike to spin and unleash a devastating follow-up that crashed into the arena floor instead.
Paul stopped, watching as the Apache straightened in front of him. His expression seemed to me a mixture of surprise and amusement.
—Well, well… —he laughed, resting the axe on the ground—. Looks like you're not as useless as we thought, kid.
The great mountaineer turned around, giving his back to a bewildered Geronimo.
—I propose one last game.
I couldn't help but swallow at that declaration.
—If you can guess where my axe will fall… I'll admit defeat.
—What? —I let out incredulously.
Paul didn't respond. With a wide grin, he grabbed the axe with both hands and hurled it into the sky.
The weapon spiraled upward like a black star drawing closer by the second. The system exploded in my mind: calculations, trajectories, a thousand possible outcomes. The screen collapsed into a storm of vectors that, after intense analysis, overlapped…
A massive headache seized me, forcing me to stumble back two steps.
—Shit…! —I muttered as I fell to the ground.
Then the axe crashed down exactly where I had been standing. The earth cracked, sending up dust and sparks.
Paul, more surprised than ever, grabbed my arm and, with a satisfied smile, patted my back, snapping me out of my trance.
—Impressive, kid. You convinced me.
Geronimo nodded, astonished.
—If you can guide your team with that skill, you'll be an ideal asset for the games —Geronimo concluded, sheathing his knife.
That was when, as always and without warning, Axio appeared floating, more sarcastic than ever.
—"Games"? —it repeated, as if savoring the word—. Someone wants to challenge Aries again.