Mark nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw Espy approach him. "My goodness, you''re alive?"


    Espy certainly didn''t look alive; his strong build was betrayed by pale skin that hadn''t seen daylight in months and the heavy dark bags under his eyes. His clothes were dishevelled, his shirt was partly untucked from his pants, and his vest seemed to decide which buttons to be buttoned at random. His hair was a bird''s nest striking out in every direction.


    Espy flinched at the harsh sound of Mark''s voice, his bloodshot eyes barely focusing on his superior. The actual words Mark spoke didn''t register at first; instead, Espy''s gaze was locked on the warm mug of a delicious-smelling drink sitting tantalizingly on Mark''s desk. Espy''s voice came out thick and slurred, making it difficult for Mark to even understand. "Is that coffee?"


    Mark''s usual annoyed glare softened into genuine concern as he took in the sorry sight of the young man before him. He couldn''t help but feel a pang of guilt for the state he had contributed to. "Yes, it is."


    "Thank you." Espy''s voice was barely a whisper as he took the cup off Mark''s desk, lifting it to his lips with a look of quiet desperation. He drank deeply, savouring each sip as if it were the most precious thing in the world.


    Mark didn''t even know how to react. An intern had just stolen his coffee! He opened his mouth, ready to berate Espy for his insubordination, but the words died in his throat. What froze him wasn''t the act itself but the pure, unguarded bliss that washed over Espy''s face as he drank. It was as though he had tasted something far beyond mere caffeine—something that transcended the exhaustion and isolation, a mother''s hug taken liquid form and unleashed now to save this poor lost intern.


    Espy let out a deep, satisfied sigh, his eyes closing in pure contentment. "Real coffee." There was an almost affectionate note in his voice, and, as if in reverence, he kissed the warm cup in his hands, savouring the moment.


    Mark hesitated. He was afraid of the answer, but the question burned at him. "Espy, where have you been? Are you okay?"


    Espy''s eyes suddenly lit up, wide and excited, as if someone had just asked about his greatest passion. "Oh, I was reorganizing the legacy files as you told me to. I wasn''t able to finish. Frankly, I think it may be literally impossible, given the state of things. Speaking of which. I have some questions regar-"


    Mark quickly cut Espy off before he could dive deeper into his rambling. "Espy I can barely understand a word you''re saying with that lisp. Go take a nap in the staff lounge or something. Here, if you really have a desperate need to work, then you can mull over the list of contestants for the next Tournament; we just got it last week. Give it a look over, but only after you sleep, got it?"


    Espy had a thousand questions swirling in his mind, but the offer of a nap was far too tempting to refuse. He shuffled toward the staff lounge, and his eyes instantly locked onto the most welcoming couch he had ever seen. It seemed to practically glow with comfort, the soft outline of jumping sheep and floating Z''s beckoning him to relax.


    Still, the list of contestants burned a hole in his pocket. Mark had clearly told him to wait until after his nap, but how could he sleep with his curiosity gnawing at him like this? Espy pulled the list from his pocket and unfolded it, his eyes already scanning the names.


    His mind was swimming. There were both devadoots and previous contestants invited to this Tournament! Though the Noumenon was invited again as a previous winner, the three-armed dragon was not? And the White Witch was invited to the Tournament even though she was explicitly avoided in previous Tournaments!


    But beyond the outlandish contradictions that shattered every rule and regulation he had just spent weeks studying, there were also the normal anxiety-inducing things like his best friend Picayune being invited to the Tournament.


    Espy''s eyes drifted from the list, the words now a blur. He stared at the inviting couch just a few steps away, its comfort seeming more like a distant dream. But then his gaze shifted. A steaming pot of coffee sat on the nearby counter.


    <hr>


    Espy found himself in Mark''s office. His body sort of just moved on his own. He did want to nap on that couch, but he grabbed the coffee instead and made his way back here.


    Espy burst into the room, barely giving Mark a chance to react. "Mark, what in the world is going on here?" He nearly shouted, waving the list in his hand as if it could somehow explain everything. "Why are there devadoots on this list? And why wasn''t the three-armed dragon invited? Is he not useful anymore? What even is the Tournament?! I just need a few things cleared up!" He took a breath, his panic rising. "Could I speak with Empedocles? Or better yet, could I have just a few moments with this Chauffer character, please?"


    Mark stared at Espy in utter confusion while defensively protecting his new cup of coffee. "Listen, Espy, just relax. You''re an intern. I know you want to work hard and show the big boss up high that you''re not just some stuck-up nepo baby and that you deserve to be hired for real, but you''ve already reached the point where no one doubts your dedication or ambition. Just calm down, do as you''re told, and don''t ask questions."


    "But—"


    Mark cut him off, his tone firm. "Don''t ask questions," He watched Espy, waiting for him to argue, but when he saw the boy''s deflated expression, he couldn''t help but feel a small, satisfied smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Good. Now, if you really want to work, I need you to come up with meal plans for the contestants. We want them to feel comfortable when they''re in the arena, and that means satisfying their stomachs, no matter how bizarre their diets might be."


    Espy''s heart sank, but he knew there would be no answers for him now. He was quickly banned from entering the basement and, as a precaution, sent to a healer to check if the old coffee had poisoned him.


    Once the healer cleared him as fit for work again, Espy was set on a routine of relatively minor tasks—nothing that required real thought or effort. He even found some time to resume his studies.


    Now armed with the knowledge he had acquired in that accursed basement of how the greatest fighters and magicians operated, his research was significantly easier. Many new insights and perspectives came so easily. Yet all that new progress felt like a distant, trivial concern in the face of what he had recently uncovered. Nothing in his coursework could compare to the weight of the secrets swirling in his mind.


    He also found it increasingly uncomfortable to be at Ersatz University. The thought of running into Picayune made his stomach churn; he couldn''t look his friend in the eye with the knowledge he held.


    His interest in school had faded, and instead, he found himself obsessively seeking out any opportunity to confront Mark, pleading—begging—to speak with the Chauffer or Empedocles. Each time, his requests were swiftly rejected, but Espy''s determination only grew, even as the walls around him seemed to close in tighter.


    Espy had many questions he longed to ask Professor Ream, but with Picayune constantly nearby, the opportunity never seemed to present itself. That was until the Tournament was just one month away. Invitations would soon be sent to the sixty-four candidates, and Espy''s schedule would be consumed with preparations. His time for research groups would be limited, and he would have to submit his final research paper to the university ahead of time.


    In any other circumstance, the paper he had prepared for Professor Ream would have been his magnum opus. It was the greatest discovery he would ever make—an insight that would reshape the way magic was understood by the world. But despite its potential, Espy couldn''t find a shred of excitement within himself. The weight of everything he had uncovered, the dark truths lurking behind the Tournament, overshadowed any academic achievement. His passion for the research he had once considered groundbreaking now felt hollow.


    Espy waited outside Professor Ream''s office when the door opened and one of the king''s attendants angrily stormed off. Well, that was another question that nibbled at Espy''s curiosity, but he was already filled up with questions to ask.


    Espy entered the professor''s office and, as usual, was accosted by an unparalleled cacophony of extravagance and flamboyance. Professor Ream''s love for intricate carvings, trinkets, and lavish gifts was well known, and there was never a shortage of people eager to donate to the professor in hopes of earning his favour. Yet, despite the mountains of ornate items that filled the room, Espy knew that none of them seemed to hold the same significance as one object—a rotten, gnarled crossbow sitting on a shelf to the side of the room. It was that crossbow, of all things, that was the professor''s favourite gift, though why remained a mystery to Espy.


    Espy never understood what the professor saw in that thing; there was nothing unique or grand about the crossbow other than that maybe at one time, it was of better than average make. The professor did not display any other trinkets of past Saviour members with anywhere near as much reverence as this one. It was clear that whatever this crossbow was, it must have once belonged to Forgo Miff, whose massive portraiture was displayed above the crossbow in a golden frame. Espy never took Professor Ream as the sentimental type, but then here he was.


    "My goodness, Espy you look awful." Professor Ream exclaimed as Espy entered the room. Espy could not even see his professor through all the smoke in the room, and the second Espy took a breath, he was inundated with a fit of coughs. "What are they doing to you over there?" The professor queried with a laugh.


    Espy took control of his lungs while cycling through all the questions he needed to ask when his professor''s words finally registered in his mind. "What? Oh sorry, I''ve been running around a lot these past few days. There''s been a lot to do, but I''m nearly done now. The Tournament Corporation has been keeping me busy." Espy tried to smile, but it came out as wholly unconvincing.


    While pretending to smile as if everything was under control, his mind ran over all the ways in which it wasn''t. "I hope I''m not interrupting anything too important."


    Professor Ream glanced down at his overcrowded desk, and for a moment, a dark expression crossed his face—one that clearly suggested Espy was, in fact, interrupting something important. But without acknowledging it, the professor smiled and looked back at Espy. "No, no, nothing important. I''ve just been going over some University applications." He tapped on the sheet before him, "You know this applicant did have a very memorable interview, but unfortunately, not quite the right kind of memorable."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Espy laughed, "Poor girl, she the stage fright kind?"


    The elder simply smiled, "Something like that."


    Espy''s humour quickly vanished as he slapped his palm to his forehead, "Oh crap! I still need to submit the One-armed Dragon''s dietary plan to Empedocles! I need to do that when I get back." He was sad to admit it, but he found himself so preoccupied with trying to put all the information from the storage together that he was beginning to lag behind on his actual ordered duties.


    Professor Ream, noticing the tension in Espy''s shoulders, manipulated his magic through his pipe to cast a spell to soothe the young man. The magic flowed like a gentle wave, calming Espy''s nerves. The relief was immediate—a much-needed boost that reminded him, with a start, that it had been almost an hour since he last had a cup of coffee.


    Espy felt bad that he was confronting his professor in such an obviously weak-willed state, but he didn''t have the time or energy to be picky. He quickly pushed forward with their conversation. "Sorry, just have a lot on my mind. It is super exciting to be working for the Tournament Corporation during the year of The Tournament, but it is also really stressful. I just wanted to hand in my assignment on theoretical cabalistic abrogation early because I won''t be here when it''s due."


    Professor Ream took the thick booklet from Espy with a smile. "Thank you, Espy. I can always count on you to give me a good read."


    Espy murmured a quiet, "Thank you, sir." but his mind was clouded with doubts. Maybe he shouldn''t burden his professor with his frantic questions. What if he dredged up painful memories? What if he was asking for too much? He turned toward the door, his instincts telling him to leave, but something steeled his resolve. He paused and turned back. "You were in the fifth Tournament last century, right?"


    Espy was relieved to see that the professor did not act negatively in any discernable way as he spoke. "Well, mentioning how many years it has been was unnecessary; you''ll hurt my old ears. But yes, I was in the fifth Tournament. Those were exciting times."


    Espy hesitated but pressed on. "Your Tournament title was... The Apprentice?"


    The professor''s sudden outburst of noise initially scared Espy, but once his tired mind identified it as laughter, he relaxed.


    The professor merrily entertained his strange student''s questioning. "Yes, that''s right; it has been a little while since I''ve heard anyone refer to me as an apprentice of any sort, though."


    But now was the time for the real questions. "What were the arenas like?"


    " They were fairly large-"


    Espy quickly corrected his previous statement. He wasn''t sure if the professor was purposefully misinterpreting the question, but Espy had already decided to commit. "no, I mean the private areas for the contestants. How were the Directors? Did they ever ask you strange questions? Did they make you take a test?"


    Professor Ream''s previously jovial attitude relented a little as he took Espy''s questions a little more seriously. A good sign, Espy thought, but Professor Ream''s answer was not so helpful. "Well, I never visited all of the arenas, nor did I even meet all of the Directors of the arenas I did go to. But the Directors never made me take any test."


    His answer seemed so dismissive. Was Espy paranoid, or was it just him who thought the professor''s word choice seemed strange? He decided to push the matter. Enough was enough, and Espy had deemed it about time for him to get some answers. "Did you take tests?"


    Any illusion of a cordial student speaking to his teacher had dissipated entirely, and Ream paused for an uncomfortable time before answering in a distinctly lower register. "No, I did not."


    The answer surprised Espy; his leading theory was that the unique contestants were posed with some kind of test in that schedule blank, but perhaps he was wrong. Then it hit him; maybe it was the reverse. There was still a test, but Espy was thinking of it the wrong way.


    To test his new theory, he asked again. "Did someone else?" Espy was waiting with bated breath; he felt so close to attaining some kind of answer that he could take even a tiny step toward the truth.


    Then Ream spoke. "Espy… I have a class I need to teach now." Espy''s mind had blanked; he was waiting so absolutely on an answer to his question that when Ream spoke the way he did, Espy could not understand how it fit into the equation. Espy''s brain spun through hundreds of simulations of how Ersatz University fit into the conspiracy. Then, it suddenly dawned on him that Ream was not answering his question but dismissing it.


    "O-oh, of course. Surely you are very busy. Sorry for taking up so much of your time."


    "No, no. It''s of no hindrance. I always enjoy speaking with you Espy. It''s just that I have my duties to attend to."


    Embarrassed by his train of thought, Espy was ready to end the interrogation as well. "Of course, of course. I will see myself out first then." He gave the professor a respectful bow, then quickly turned around and walked out of the room.


    He pondered over their conversation and realized that it was not a total waste. Ream''s refusal to answer was in itself a sort of answer. The question was what answer. Was it that, yes, someone did have some kind of auxiliary test aside from the Tournament itself? If so, who? Or was it that the answer was no, but Espy was unknowingly getting close to a different answer that he hadn''t quite caught onto yet?


    "Hey, Esp, we were just talking about you!" The sound of his nickname pierced into his self-query and dragged his attention up to see Picayune. He could not help but feel happy and relieved to see his friend, but then he was reminded of the Tournament. He wanted to just turn around and leave, avoid the confrontation entirely, but when his best friend opened his arms wide, Espy''s heavy soul could not hold back and took it. He stepped forward, and the two embraced, their connection firm and reassuring.


    Such a menial thing somehow just sapped so much stress and tension from Espy, and for a short moment, he forgot about everything else. "Good to see you, Yune! What is up? How are you?"


    Picayune happily replied, "I''m doing great, Esp; we just finished giving Patsy a brief tour of Proselyte''s wild market district."


    Another soft feminine voice resounded from beside Picayune. "And, next time you meet your sister, let her know that Picayune already has a girlfriend." The startling new voice drew his attention, and Espy only then noticed that Picayune''s girlfriend Belabor was there the whole time.


    Espy couldn''t help but stifle a laugh at his own deteriorating mental faculties but quickly responded to her hoping that neither of the two noticed. "Patsy has always been fond of you, Yune, but I hope you can still help her out every now and then since she''s never been the most…"


    "She''s very awkward, yes." The three gave in to silly giggles at the curt response.


    Picayune was the first to break the giggling with a slap on Espy''s shoulder to redirect the conversation. "But enough about us. What about you? Big Tournament employee now! I haven''t seen you for months, man. Are they running you ragged over there?"


    Belabor couldn''t help her own interest take over, "Invitations should be coming out soon, right? What''s that like?"


    With that simple question, it all came back, the weight of his knowledge bearing down on him. It felt like a deadly anchor that he could not escape from. A burden he could not share with Picayune. Espy tried his best to give a dismissive answer. "It is such a mess, man, I can''t say much because I''m under a nondisclosure agreement, right-"


    "Sure."


    "-But there has been a lot of... there''s been a lot. And it''s… it''s just weird. I can''t really get into it."


    Picayune fist-bumped Espy''s shoulder in a failed attempt to lighten his sombre mood, "Sounds pretty rough, but I guess that''s what comes with the most prestigious job in the world." Picayune then jested, "Just make sure to save some front-row seats for us."


    Picayune''s comment petrified Espy. His best friend was joking amicably while completely oblivious to the fact that he wouldn''t be in the front-row seats but in the field. Picayune seemed to notice Espy''s reaction and tried to comfort him, but none of the words managed to break Espy''s mental stupor.


    It was Belabor who finally managed to break Espy out of his stasis. She rubbed his arm reassuringly as she joked, "Maybe he can''t get you a ticket, Picayune, since you''ll actually be invited to the Tournament. You''ll get to compare your genius with the Hero of New Heirisson conquest."


    Espy couldn''t hold back his terror at how accurate her comment had just been. She seemed to notice as well. "NO. WAY. Picayune WAS invited to The Tournament!? That''s insane!" Belabor bounded into Picayune, arms wrapped about his neck in a crushing hug. "Congratulations Picay!" She pressed a deep kiss into his lips, but he did not return the kiss.


    As a disciple of Professor Ream, Picayune had grown much more knowledgeable of the world and the scale of power within it. Picayune understood the gravity of an invitation. Whereas Belabor saw his name on a list, Picayune saw his odds of surviving.


    Picayune forced some pathetic optimism to fumble out of his mouth. "That''s... great; maybe instead of asking Ken to get an autograph for me, I can just- ask the hero himself as he beats me blue." He followed his stammered sentence with a hollow laugh.


    Espy was riddled with guilt as two pairs of defeated eyes met each other. Espy could only give out a weak "Sorry…. Sorry. I have to get back to work." before walking off.


    Espy felt horrible for the next couple of hours. He returned to the Arena of Empedocles and continued his work in a half-comatose haze. Finally, Espy collected himself and decided to confront Mark one more time. Maybe he could change something; maybe he could cancel the Tournament because of how many rules were being broken in it.


    Espy opened the door to Mark''s office without even knocking and declared. "Mark, I have some important answers that I need to get from the Chauffer. I know I''m just an intern, but this is important, and I think the Chauffer would want to know if the Tournament got sidetracked this badly. I-"


    Mark''s eyes were growing larger and larger as Espy continued to speak. Finally, he couldn''t stand any longer, so he interrupted Espy with his own declaration. "Espy, you are going to drop this. Believe it or not, Espy, I actually like you. You were a bit annoying at first, but you''ve come to grow on me. But you have to keep in mind that the Tournament Corporation is a machine. Each member a cog that does its part and that is all, no less, no more. Part of my job is to report on what the people who work under me are doing, so I have been mentioning that you want to meet with the big boys. They have been listening Espy, and you don''t want them to be listening."


    Espy was overjoyed for a second, but his hopes crashed with that last sentence. Mark continued to speak. "People are starting to hear you, Espy, and they''re starting to notice you, and not in a good way. I would seriously advise you to keep your head down and appreciate the job you have, or else-" Mark was interrupted by the chime of a bell, and his face paled.


    Espy recognized what the bell chime meant, and then all of his concerns disappeared; the Chauffer was here, and they could finally straighten things out.


    Espy faced the small pink rhombus, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other shapes.


    Espy couldn''t wait for the Chauffer to finish its movement and exclaimed. "Thank you so much for coming Chauffer. I''ve been going through all the legacy files and discovered some things I think you''ll want to hear about."


    The pink shape finally locked into a form resembling that of a featureless human with two limbs. One limb was outstretched towards Espy and holding a glowing parchment, and the other towards Mark, holding a normal piece of paper. Mark took the paper with a confused look; he read it and spoke out, confused. "Well, I wasn''t expecting this; it''s a revised list of the Tournament contestants." Espy grabbed the glowing parchment that the Chauffer pointed at him: It read.


    <table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 68.5947%; background-color: rgba(255, 213, 171, 1); border-color: rgba(235, 164, 57, 1); border-style: ridge" border="1">


    <tbody>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">You have been invited to</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">The Tournament</td>


    </tr>


    <tr>


    <td style="width: 100%; text-align: center">You are The Obstacle</td>


    </tr>


    </tbody>


    </table>