I said goodbye to my friends, a final round of hugs and grins exged, before heading out with Lo and my guard ensemble trailing behind me like some oddly formal procession. Our path twisted through bustling corridors filled with neon-lit signs and the endless hum of the vention. After a few turns, I realized something important.

  “Uh… Where are we going?” I asked Lo, gng around as if the walls would answer for her.

  “The Big Hall,” she replied with a perfectly straight face, her tone carrying all the gravitas of an official royal decree.

  Oh yes. Very big hall. How creative.

  “Niame…” I muttered under my breath as Lo subtly corrected my course, steerioward a different hallway. “So, what’s the schedule? Still the semi-finals, where they challenge me, and then I battle the winner?”

  Lo blinked, clearly surprised by my knowledge. She eyed me nervously. “Uhm, yes… But that was decided this m. When did you—?” she started before trailing off, her fusion evident.

  Damn. Gotta be more careful with what I say.

  Before she could press further, a very enthusiastic girl darted in front of me, clutg a t-shirt featuring—of all things—me fighting bandits and heroically saving Riker. I had to sign it, of course.

  They sure print fast.

  “Jerry, your idea?” I whispered, keeping my voice low as I finished my signature.

  “The tract I agreed on,” Jerry’s voice chimed smoothly in my ear, as if reg legal poetry, “says: Charlie hereby grants permission for the limited use of her likeness, subject to her prior review and explicit written approval, freed purposes only.”

  Riker must’ve found a creative loophole. Or… just ig. I ched my jaw, my eyes narrowing. Of course he did.

  Lo noticed my expression and gave me a worried gnce. “Lady? How did you know?”

  “Nothing,” I said, f a grin. “Just thinking about how much I love legally binding tracts. I just assumed it was like that… Never mind that. Expin anyway,” I said, waving away her unfinished question and trying not to dwell on how I knew something I shouldn’t.

  And don’t think too much about it, Lo. Please.

  As we moved closer to the hall, the crowd grew thicker, fans clustering arou every step. I stopped frequently, signing posters, shirts, and even a holographic frame featuring a looping repy of my performance. Each stop slowed us down, and I could see Lo getting increasingly anxious as the miicked by.

  “At first, the pn was for only the tour wio challenge you,” Lo expined while I scribbled my name across a glossy poster featuring a dramatic shot of me mid-battle.

  After I sig, I noticed a man selling the t-shirts right in front of me. I beelioward him and exged one fning three.

  “Let me guess,” I said, gng up at an older man holding out a Riker-themed hat for me to autograph, “Riker thought it was b.”

  Lo furrowed her brows as if the very idea of Riker making things b offended her sensibilities. “We o hurry,” she said pointedly, before adding, “and yes, he was the one who ged it. He said a straightforward tour cked fir.”

  I o her statement, but then I spotted something that made me do a double-take. A man was casually selling the same t-shirts I had just signed moments ago.

  I didn’t hesitate. Moving straight toward him, I fshed my best grin. “Hey there,” I said, tapping one shirt hanging on dispy.

  He blinked, clearly startled by my sudden approach. “Uh… yes, Miss Charlie!” he stammered, visibly nervous. “Would you like one? A special deal just for you—”

  “Tell you what,” I interrupted smoothly, plug a shirt off the rad holding it up to ihe print. “I’ll sign three more if you give me one. Deal?”

  The man’s eyes widened, and he nodded so quickly I thought his head might detach. “Absolutely, Miss Charlie! Anything for you!”

  Within seds, I had the shirt in hand, and true to my word, I sighree more for him. As I walked away, now proudly holding my very own bootlegged merch, I gnced back with a smirk.

  Thanks, Riker, for turnio a walking franchise.

  Lo had enough and motiooward the guards, who stepped ily but firmly creating a path through the increasingly dense crowd. Fans were relutly ushered aside as we made our way toward a discreet side door he hall’s entrance.

  I’m so drained already… And it hasn’t started yet…

  “So, how does it work now?” I asked, genuinely curious. Maybe it differed from the future.

  “Any semi-finalist challenge you,” Lo expined, keeping pace beside me. “But if they do, they give up their p semi-finals, a ce to be… the chosen one. If they win against you, however…” She paused dramatically, clearly quoting somethiim. “They earle of The Sword Ruler for themself. They still have to fight the chosen one.”

  Just as we reached the ba, the first thing I noticed wasn’t the crowd of employees or the buzz of activity—it was Riker’s coat. Holy, I could probably spot him from Rimelion.

  “Riker!” I called out, my voice overp the noise.

  My emotions are still a mess.

  He turned around, that ever-present grin pstered on his face. “Ah, behold! The illustrious Sword Queen graces us with her magnifit presence! Fear not, for I have decreed a ge in the areing yrandeur! A mere pin? Perish the thought! No, no—only the noble, rolling hills shall serve as a worthy stage for your unparalleled prowess!”

  Of course, he meddled. If I’d had any doubts, Lo’s exasperated groao me firmed it.

  Hills weren’t part of the inal pn.

  I crossed my arms, ign the theatrics. “Where are my money?”

  Riker froze. “Mo-money?” he stammered. “What?”

  “Yeah, money!” I said, whipping the t-shirt I’d just gotten at him. He flinched as it smacked into his chest, surprise flickering across his face before realization dawned.

  “Miss Charlie! Ah, such a golden opportunity preseself—I simply could not resist the temptation! Your captivatiy, fwlessly iwined with your remarkable ag prowess and breathtaking swordsmanship, has made you an instaion!” He shifted into his usual sales pitch, his voice full of the charm. “Surely, with a star of your stature, a mere 50% fee on my part seems but a modest token for my generous services... wouldn’t you agree?”

  I blinked, momentarily thrown. Wait, fifty pert for me? Is that… good? Before I could decide, my irritation fred back up. “Hey! Don’t ge the subject!” I jabbed a fi his chest. “I care about the fact that I did not agree! And does that include all those ads you’re pstering everywhere? How much are we actually talking about?”

  For the first time, Riker looked genuinely uneasy, a bead of sweat glistening on his forehead. “You must uand, Lady Charlie, such prominence does not e without a price! All the tireless marketing efforts we’re iing in you—oh, they don’t simply materialize out of thin air!”

  “How. Much, Riker?” I asked again, my tone ice-cold.

  Riker’s eyes darted around nervously, and with an exaggerated gesture, he clicked something on his wrist device befng at Lo. “Ah, as! I must personally ehat the hills are nothing short of perfe—worthy of a spectacle as grand as your uping triumph!” And just like that, he bolted, coat fring behind him as he disappeared through a side door.

  I sighed, turning to Lo, who was furiously tapping oablet, her fingers practically a blur.

  After a few tense moments, she gulped and looked up at me. “He granted me access to—” She paused, her eyes wide as she read whatever popped up on her s. “Oh no.”

  “What do you mean, ‘oh no’? How much?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  Lo hesitated, visibly unfortable. She bit her lip before finally mumbling, “It’s… a signifit ive number.”

  I blinked, abs that for a moment before leaning in. “So you ied in all the ads and have no profit to show for it?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she admitted, her tone apologetic. “It will be… a while before you get to see any credits.”

  I massaged my temples, feeling the tension gathering there like a storm cloud. With a resigned sigh, I shook my head. “That’s fine. Wasly ting on it anyway. I’m here primarily for recruitment for the battle. Let’s focus on the event.”

  Lo gave a determined nod, and we began walking toward a waiting area. The corridor was bustling with activity—stagehands dashing about, st-miweaks to lighting and sound being made, and the faint hum of holo-ss projeg event stats flickering in the background.

  “Mister Riker set up a registration page for the battle,” Lo said, a hint of pride in her voice. “Thousands have already signed up!”

  “Paid by the t-shirts?” I muttered bitterly as I checked the rapier I was given for this challehe bde gleamed uhe bright backstage lights, perfectly polished and ready.

  But was wooden somehow. And blunted. Lo tried—and failed—not to ugh. “Probably.”

  I sighed dramatically, twirling the rapier oo loosen my wrist. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hope they actually e to help.”

  The beams above weren’t nearly as ve as those on the main stage. I eyed them with mild disappoi, my fingers itg for something dramatieanwhile, was shaking her head vehemently, her eyes wide with .

  “Fine…” I sighed, letting go of that pn. I shifted my focus to the sound beyond the walls. It didn’t take long before Riker’s unmistakable voied through the very big hall with all his signature fir, announg the immi clusion of the tour and—wait for it—introdug me as The Sword Queen.

  “What?” Lo and I said in unison.

  I gnced around, catg sight of a worker he side door, motioning frantically in my dire.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be—” Lo’s protest was cut off as I sprioward the stage without a sed thought.

  I burst through the door, and the sight before me made me falter for a split sed.

  Hills.

  Everywhere.

  The terrain wasn’t nearly as fwless as the portal’s proje, but it was impressive. They’d somehow hauled in massive boulders and scattered them among the holographic terrain, creating a patchwork of real and virtual elements.

  Great. Hills.

  Because apparently a ft arena wasn’t dramatiough for Riker’s tastes.

  I stared at the patchwork of real and holographic terrain, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Sure, throw in whatever obstacles you want—it’s not like a few bumps in the ground would make any differeo someone of my skill level.

  Though knowing Riker, he probably thought adding terrain would make for better camera angles. At least he didn’t add a volo.

  Yet.

  No time to overthink it. I darted forward a onto one of the rger rocks, nding with a dramatic flourish of my rapier.

  The bde gleamed uhe artificial sunlight, its polished edge catg every angle as I twirled it.

  The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement rolling through the air like a tangible force. I blirying to process what was happening. Four people were gathered near me, half-hidden behind an artificial hill that still flickered faintly with glitchy projes.

  I raised an eyebrow, unsure whether this nned or another one of Riker’s spontaneous improvements.

  One of them, an older man dressed i ese traditional attire, caught my eye. He gave a small shrug, as if to say, Don’t look at me—I just showed up.

  Before I could react further, Riker’s voice thundered once again, as dramatic as ever. “And now, behold! The challengers for the Chosen One—rise a your destiny!”

  The artificial hill in front of them shattered with a loud, theatrical crack, revealing the challengers. They stepped forward in unison, their postures varying from stoic to fident.

  “Do you wish to try your hand at glory, or tinue iour?” Riker asked with his usual tone.

  The first to respond was the old man. He gave a polite shake of his head, his expression serene, as if he had no iion of skipping.

  The sed was… well, a stark trast. He couldn’t have been older than his early twenties, and his outfit—hoodie embzoned with my face, paired with mismatched sants—made me questioher he had wandered in by mistake.

  But no, he was serious. He took a step forward, his haing on a woode sword strapped to his back, and decred with all the fiden the world, “I shall challenge her! Let our swords meet ahem speak of eternal love across dimensions!”

  It took every ouny willpower not to lose my posure right then and there.

  e on, don’t break the role.

  I kept my poker face. “Well…” I said, stepping down from the boulder with an exaggerated flourish. “I suppose we’re doing this.”