The Protagonist

The start of the competition began with much less fanfare than I expected. Apparently, our 'safe zone' was just a random section of the jungle that made up the first layer; we just couldn't be perceived by any other Participants.

"So how many Participants are we dealing with?" I asked the unassuming creature that was now perched upon my shoulder.

"150, though I'm sure at least a few opted out of the game at the start."

"That seems like a lot."

"When I said the first layer was large, I meant it. You aren't likely to encounter even half of the total Participants before you're eliminated or progress to the next layer."

I never did ask what he meant by 'eliminated,' though that one I think I could figure out on my own.

My Observer and I were pushing our way through the jungle foliage with no destination in mind. The vegetation was so dense that I had no way of knowing what might be waiting for us five feet in any direction, but that was also true for any potential enemies. In theory.

"How the hell do I know I'm going in the right direction?" I asked after a few minutes of walking. Everything around us looked the same, after all.

"If you haven't walked off the edge, you're going the right way."

"…Edge?"

Gozaborou nodded. "Participants start at the outer edge of the Joining layer. To progress is to go inward. If you were headed in the opposite direction, eventually you would find the layer's edge – the edge of the world."

"A flat earth, of sorts," I thought to myself, though this information did make me a little uneasy. It wasn't hard to get turned around in such a thick mass of jungle, and the last thing I wanted to compliment my actual death was a second, arguably even more embarrassing one attributed to me in this world, too.

Accosted at all times by the call of wild animals, though none were ever seen – were they even real, or were they just trying for some ambiance? – it took a while for me to notice other, more urgent sounds mixed in.

Several strained voices joined the choir of tropical birds, prompting me to drop into a crouch. The sound of fighting. Or, at the very least, a struggle.

I couldn't tell just how many people were involved by sound alone, but it did not sound like a crowd. It was risky, getting close to other 'Participants' who were already comfortable with violence, but perhaps there was something that could be learned from observing them?

"The observed becomes the observer," I thought to myself with a glance to Gozaborou. It wasn't clear if the little pangolin had detected the noise or not, seeming no different from before. It probably didn't matter much to him, anyway.

Advancing slowly through the undergrowth, I kept low in an almost ape-like stance, using my hands to keep my balance when needed. The sounds of battle grew louder and louder as I approached, and I slowed my pace accordingly. The last thing I wanted was to spring out into the middle of a conflict I didn't know was only a few feet away.

Thankfully – and bizarrely convenient for those involved – the thick jungle gave way to a clearing even larger than the one I woke up in. Covered in ankle-high grass, the clearing was nonetheless surrounded by the dense foliage I had grown accustomed to, all except for the edge to the left of me, which was cut off by a sheer rock face some twenty feet high. The tropical vegetation continued on over the cliff, but beneath it stood only harsh stone.

I was no climber, but it didn't seem to have any obvious hand or footholds. The youth that stood, back almost pressed against its surface, did not have many options of escape.

'Youth' was the best word I could describe who I saw standing there, fists at the ready. Though only slightly shorter than my impressive 6-foot 1-inch height, his face was clean and unblemished despite the circumstances, giving him a youthful appearance – he couldn't be a day older than 18. Dressed in jeans similar to mine and a hoodie that seemed a size too big for him, he looked as though he was on his way home from school.

In front of him, between the cornered boy and my hiding spot some distance away, stood too very different characters. One was a stout, plainly dressed, but incredibly thick man – I wanted to speculate on the possibility of him being a dwarf straight out of a fantasy novel, but figured I was just being mean – with a large and impressive mustache. The other was a tall but clearly built woman, dressed in what looked to be workout clothes. I couldn't comment on the man's ability or lack thereof – though his physique was undeniable – but the woman clearly had some sort of training, fitness or otherwise.

Why they were bearing down on this unassuming youth was anyone's guess. The young man did not seem particularly troubled by it, however.

"Sorry, kid," the stout man said aloud. I wasn't sure if he was intentionally screaming or that was just how he spoke. "You know the game as well as we do. It's a competition, after all."

"Hey, Gyoza," I said suddenly. It took a moment for my companion to realize I was talking to him. Before he could start complaining about my choice of name, I continued, "Do you need to eliminate other Participants in order to win?"

"…In order to win, you need to make it to the Crown alive," Gozaborou replied after a moment, reiterating his earlier statement.

"Right," I said with a breath, looking back at the scene unfolding before me. Idiots.

"Though that isn't to say there is no merit to conflict."

I glanced back at Gozaborou in surprise, but my companion's attention had also returned to the fight. There would be no further elaboration, clearly.

The youth said nothing in reply. He kept his fists up, unmoving. Looking at him more closely, I could see that his clothes were dirtied, but otherwise he looked unharmed. His adversaries were of a similar condition, too.

"Then what the hell was all that racket for?" I thought.

"We need to move on, Gelt," the woman said suddenly, glancing at her ally. "The more time we spend here, the more we get left behind."

The man – apparently named Gelt – grunted in agreement. I guess it was no fun to put on airs if your opponent didn't say anything back.

With a shout, the woman stepped forward and pivoted on her heel, lashing out with her other leg in a fierce kick. Her opponent deftly blocked the strike with his forearm, ducking down and to the side just as Gelt attempted a follow-up.

Narrowly avoiding the blow, the boy, now in a crouch, spun around and struck the back of the larger man's leg with his own. The impact was audible but resulted in no apparent discomfort on Gelt's part.

The boy rolled backward just in time to avoid his female opponent's second attack – striking downward with her heel – but found himself pressed completely against the cliff face as he recovered. The hood of his jacket, which had previously been obscuring all but his face, fell back with the motion, revealing bright red hair.

From my position, obscured though it was by both his opponents and the distance, it looked as though the youth's hair was heavily styled, like you would see in a boy band.

"Oh shit, it's the protagonist," I thought to myself, fully aware of the sourness welling up within me at the thought. I put a hand up to my own moppy brown head of hair, plastered almost completely to my skull by the humidity, with no small amount of envy.

For the first time, some sort of emotion played across the youth's features: he scowled, looking back at the cliff face with no shortage of irritation. I could only assume he was at the end of his rope.

Gelt stepped forward this time with a gruff shout, holding his hands, clasped together, over his head, intent on bringing them down on the boy's head. A heavy blow to be sure, but an easy one to avoid, especially for one as nimble as this youth. His ally, however, was circling around from the other side, intent on catching the boy if he dared move out of the way.

Instead, the boy put up his fists and caught the momentum of the blow head-on…and stopped it dead in its tracks.

Gelt, his female compatriot, and I all audibly exclaimed our confusion.

"This runt…?!" the so-far unidentified woman cried, regaining her senses quickly enough to try and capitalize on the opportunity. Launching herself at the boy, she threw a punch intended to catch him right in the gut.

The boy threw his hands apart, sending Gelt's wide in the process. In what felt like only a split second – before the woman's blow could connect, somehow – the youth slammed a fist into the larger man's stomach with a thunderous sound. Mouth agape, the stout man stumbled backward holding his wounded abdomen, looking moments from collapse.

The shock of the attack gave the woman's attack an ever so slight pause, giving the boy time to face her. Catching the outstretched fist under his arm, the youth tugged his opponent in close and slammed the palm of his free hand against her chin, sending her reeling backward. He released the hold he had on her arm as she fell, allowing her to hit the ground with a thump.

My mouth was agape almost as widely as Gelt's. Who the hell was this kid? And although his abilities seemed abnormal to say the least – and discounting the fact that this Gelt seemed to have sheer physical strength as his only talking point – the woman, too, seemed more than experienced in combat.

Was this some sort of joke? The first Participants I encountered were two skilled martial artists – one possibly more than that – and a human wall?

"I was under the impression the rest of the cast would be shmucks like me!" I hissed to Gozaborou, who looked on in stony silence. "Or at least it would take me a while to find real trouble!"

Having seen enough, I was already preparing my escape. Thankfully – for me – Gelt and his lovely companion did not seem completely out of the fight. Thoroughly shook by the beating they received, they seemed to value caution a bit more now. Perhaps this sudden shift in attitude also spoke of their combat experience. Regardless, their adversary, strangely, did not press his advantage. Maybe he was pitying them.

Quickly and quietly, I traced the perimeter of the clearing through the brush. The sounds of conflict resumed before I got even halfway around, but that was none of my business anymore. I had no horse in this race, but I did have a head to lose if the winning party went looking for seconds.

Disappearing into the jungle on the opposite end of the clearing I had arrived on, I welcomed the choir of the jungle as it slowly reclaimed the spotlight from the battle behind me. Only when the ambiance had fully enveloped me for several minutes did I finally let myself relax a little.

"Either I have the worst luck, I'm missing something, or my inclusion here was a mistake," I bemoaned my situation, half to myself and half to Gozaborou…who continued his silent streak. "Are you broken or something?"

"I told you, there are limitations to what information I can provide," the Observer on my shoulder finally replied. "Though I guess I can say, at least, that there is no criteria for who is or is not included here. All sapient creatures are given a chance to participate in the Crowning. Their background is not taken into consideration."

"Missing something, then," I concluded with a dejected laugh, "with a little sprinkle of bad luck too, I'd guess."

After traveling through the never-ending jungle for an indeterminate amount of time, accompanied only by the increasingly fake-feeling ambiance, the foliage slowly began to thin again. At first, I was afraid we would end up in another clearing, devoid of cover. Instead, we found ourselves at the site of a small creek; the brush was thinner here, but not by much.

My first instinct was to quench my thirst while I had the chance – the creek flowed pretty well and didn't seem particularly dirty, so that meant it was safe to drink. Probably.

As I approached, however, I noticed that I wasn't actually that thirsty, despite traveling through the humid jungle for what must have been over an hour.

As if reading my mind, Gozaborou chimed in with, "Hunger and thirst are not a factor here. Neither is illness. You can still partake for the taste, though, if you'd like."

"That's convenient." I could only assume some other unfortunate realities were also not a factor anymore.

"It detracts from the game," my Observer replied, looking up and down the creek's length. "The Participants are encouraged to focus on other things – they need not be burdened by necessities that plagued them in life."

"I guess that makes sense," I said absently, crouching at the side of the water. Barely deep enough to submerge my hands in, I scooped some of the clear liquid up to my mouth for the sake of it. It was refreshing, at the very least.

As I moved to stand back up, I felt a slight brush of air against my cheek-

"Don't move."

Before I could fully process the subtle change, the words entered my ear from only a few inches away, and a sharp edge was placed against the middle of my back.

"A knife?" was my first thought. "One of the people from before?" was the second. The voice was female, but I could tell it was not Gelt's companion. Her words were oddly breathy, making it easy to tell how close she was.

It took me a moment, but I soon realized the absence of weight on my shoulder. I could tell without looking that Gozaborou was nowhere to be found.

"What was your group's objective? What were you hoping to accomplish?" Though her voice was on the deeper side and oddly soothing, her questions came fast, and her condemnation was clear. "Were you fighting over a shortcut?"

Group? Shortcut? What the hell was she talking about?

"I-I think you've got the wrong guy," I managed to croak out, trying to remain calm. "I just got here, and funnily enough you're the first person I've talked to."

The woman fell silent, but I could tell that neither she nor her blade had moved. Several moments passed, neither of us making any further attempt at communication.

"…I was mistaken. I had assumed you were a coward on the run," came her reply after what felt like eons. The edge was retracted from the square of my back, but I could feel that she was still as close as ever. I didn't dare move.

"Well, you're wrong, but not THAT wrong." I decided it was best to keep this thought to myself. I still had no idea what she was talking about, but if some misunderstanding was somehow cleared up now, then so be it.

"Excuse me."

Just as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone. Instinctively I swung around to try and get a glimpse the moment I felt her let up, but I found myself alone at the side of the water with only the ambiance to keep me company.

"How in the hell…" I wondered aloud, scanning the tree line in some vain hope of understanding.

"Interesting."

Nearly jumping out of my skin thinking yet another source of trauma had arrived, I found, instead, Gozaborou standing at the edge of the water at my feet, looking no worse for wear.

"Welcome back, traitor," I growled to the little creature. He turned to look up at me with a neutral expression – could an animal like this even change expressions, or was it stuck like that?

"Observers generally stay out of sight when Participants are interacting," Gozaborou explained, his indifferent tone matching his expression, intentionally or not. "I was still here, and we could still communicate."

"I was hoping you'd be a little more useful in all this," I shot back, "like 'turn into a weapon' type of useful."

"Just what does the word 'Observer' mean where you're from?"

I still had half a mind to try and swing him at the next person that attacked me, but something told me I would be hard pressed to get the opportunity.