CHAPTER 43: FOOT IN MOUTH
The morning air was cold and refreshing.
John walked with his squad, following ONE through the winding corridors of the Covenant branch. Their footsteps echoed off the stone walls.
"This is your first mission," ONE said without turning around. "If you can call it that."
Nico perked up. "What do you mean?"
"Normally, your first mission would be less high-profile. Just to get you used to things. But this time..." ONE's voice was flat. "It's a rather unique case."
He paused.
"Soon, the Godfall Realm will open. And I assume all of you know its history."
Elowen nodded. "The War of Godfall."
ONE glanced back at her.
"Last time the Realm opened, every major power fought over its treasures." Elowen's voice was steady, but her hands were clasped tight. "It threw the world into chaos. Entire kingdoms fell. Alliances shattered overnight. The conflict nearly destroyed everything."
She paused. The squad was silent.
"Then the Eternals stepped in," she continued. "They ended the war by force. No one could stop them. After that, the Realm finally closed."
ONE stopped walking and turned to face them.
"Correct. This time, the Eternals are running the show to prevent another disaster. They've capped the total entrants at one thousand. And for some reason this time, the Realm only lets in those under twenty."
His cold eyes swept over the group.
"That's your mission. The Covenant has thirty spots total. Your job? Secure one. I don't expect all of you to make it, but I want you to give everything you've got."
He continued walking.
"The branch that performs best gets the most spots." He glanced back. "So don't hesitate. Don't hold back. And don't make me look bad."
Amara grinned. "No pressure at all."
Nico nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no pressure at all."
John kept his face neutral. The truth was, he knew most of this. Though he still found it hard to believe.
Daren's face appeared in his memory—unreadable, standing in the shadows of the training yard. As he told him what he needed to do to escape this place.
"Dark sends his regards."
John had been skeptical at first. And why wouldn't he? It was Daren after all. But it seems he was no longer the old Daren after the awakening some—
"John."
He blinked. Nico was staring at him.
"You okay? You spaced out."
"Yeah." John shook his head. "Just... thinking."
Nico raised an eyebrow but didn't push. "Well, think faster. We're here."
John looked up.
The portal chamber loomed before them.
It was massive—a circular room carved from black stone, lit by floating crystals that hummed with energy. At the center, a shimmering tear in reality pulsed with silver light.
And waiting for them were the high-ranking members of the branch.
Lord Roan stood at the front, his immaculate white-and-silver regalia glowing in the crystal light. His pupil-less eyes swept over the squad.
Beside him stood Rauk, his frame towering over everyone in the room, eyes fixed on John. Varric leaned against the wall, his mechanical eye gleaming. Damen sat on a crate, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
There were also other officials John didn't recognize. Some looked curious. Others just stared with dead eyes.
"Good. Everyone is in attendance," Lord Roan said. His voice reverberated across the room.
He stepped forward, his pupil-less eyes settling on the Ashen Blade squad.
"You are the ones chosen to represent this branch. Do not take that honor lightly." He paused. "As you have heard from ONE, the Covenant has only thirty spots. And I expect that you will secure at least three of them."
Nico shifted beside John. Three. Out of thirteen. That meant Roan didn't have high hopes for them. Not really.
Roan continued. "Once there, you need to understand something."
His gaze hardened.
"Except for the people gathered here, everyone is your enemy. You would do well to remember that."
Roan turned toward the portal.
"I will accompany you to the tournament grounds. The rest of the instructors will follow as needed."
His gaze shifted to Varric. "You will remain here. Defend the branch in our absence."
Varric's eyes flickered. His jaw tightened.
"That's not my job," he said quietly.
"Today it is."
Varric didn't argue. He just crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his expression unreadable. But John caught the way his metal fingers twitched. Varric wanted to go. He hated being left behind.
Roan stepped through the portal. The silver light swallowed him without a sound.
Rauk followed. Then Damen. Then the other officials. One by one, they disappeared into the shimmering tear.
ONE gestured to the squad. "Move."
John walked toward the portal. The energy hummed against his skin, cold and electric. He glanced back one last time.
Varric was still standing there, arms crossed, watching them leave.
John stepped through.
For a moment, there was nothing—just cold, just silence, just the feeling of falling without moving. Then his feet hit solid ground.
He stumbled. Caught himself. Looked up.
And froze.
They stood in a vast hall, larger than anything he'd ever seen. Marble columns rose toward a ceiling lost in golden light. Chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, each one dripping with crystals that refracted the sun into rainbows. The floor was polished so perfectly that he could see his own reflection staring back at him.
Other groups were already there. Dozens of them. Scattered across the hall in clusters—some in uniforms, some in robes, some in armor that looked worth more than John's entire life.
Everything was gorgeous. Opulent. Classy.
John felt painfully out of place.
A man in elegant silver robes approached Lord Roan. His movements were smooth, practiced, like he'd greeted a thousand guests before them.
"Branch Eleven," he said with a slight bow. "Please follow me. Your accommodations are ready."
Roan nodded. He gestured for the instructors to follow—Rauk, Damen, the other officials. ONE hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the squad.
Then he left too.
John stood there with his squad, watching their instructors disappear into the crowd.
Nico looked around. "Uh... what do we do now?"
No one answered.
John turned to ONE—but ONE was already gone. He scanned the hall, looking for anyone he recognized. There was nothing.
"Well," Thalia said slowly, "this is awkward."
Adam pointed toward the far end of the hall. "Look."
Tables stretched along the walls, covered in food and drinks. Just seeing it had everyone's mouths watering.
Liora tilted her head. "Are we supposed to... eat?"
"I think so?"
They all turned to John.
He blinked. "Why are you looking at me?"
"You're the leader," Nico said.
"Since when?"
"Since always. Now lead."
John stared at the tables. Then back at his squad. Then at the other groups—all of them seemed to fit in, not to mention they were wearing nice clothes.
His squad looked like they'd been dragged through a battlefield. Which, to be fair, they had.
He sighed.
"Why not?"
Nico grinned. "That's the spirit."
Sylas was already walking toward the food. John followed.
Well, he thought, when in Rome...
They ate. And ate.
The food was unlike anything in the Covenant's mess hall. Spiced meats, fresh bread, fruits that glowed faintly with residual energy, cuisine none of them had ever seen before. Nico piled his plate high without shame. Adam kept stealing pieces of bread from Sylas, who pretended not to notice.
The other groups ignored them. That was fine. Better than fine. John preferred the anonymity.
He stood near the edge of the hall with Nico and Adam, balancing a plate of something that tasted heavenly.
"Not bad," Nico mumbled through a mouthful. "Not bad at all."
Adam nodded, reaching for some kind of meat from his plate. "We should come here more often."
"This is a mission, not a buffet."
"Same thing."
John almost smiled. Then someone bumped into Nico hard.
Nico stumbled, nearly dropping his plate. His head snapped toward the offender—mouth already opening, "Hey, idiot, are you blind? Watch where you are going, will ya?"
John let out a sigh as he stepped in front of Nico.
"Easy," he said quietly. "Not here."
Nico's jaw tightened. But he stepped back.
John turned to face the boy who'd crashed into them.
He looked young—though still older than them. Blonde hair, sharp eyes, and clothes that screamed I am important. He was also smiling.
"Sorry about that," the boy said. His voice was light. Casual. Like he'd just bumped into an old friend. "Didn't see you there."
Nico muttered something under his breath.
John studied the boy. Something felt... off.
"No harm done," John said.
The boy tilted his head. His eyes lingered on John—curious. Measuring.
"You guys must be new here?"
John gave a small nod.
The boy shrugged. "No wonder." He smiled again. "I like new people. They're less boring."
Nico snorted. "Glad we could entertain you."
The boy laughed. It was a strange sound—genuine, almost warm, but with something underneath that John couldn't place.
"I'm just passing time," the boy said. "The tournament doesn't start for a while. And the other groups are so... stiff." He glanced around the hall. "Everyone's trying so hard to look important."
He looked back at John.
"So which branch are you from?"
John kept his face neutral. "Branch Eleven."
The boy grinned. "Hmm... Roan, then?" He chuckled. "Interesting."
Behind them, more groups were streaming into the hall. Dozens. Then hundreds. The sound of footsteps and voices filled the space.
But the boy didn't seem to notice. His attention was fixed on John.
"Well, how do you find the event?" he said finally. "Is it to your liking?"
John glanced at his plate and smiled. "You could say that."
"That's good to know."
Nico crossed his arms, still eyeing the boy. "Why are you still here anyway? You're ruining my mood."
The boy didn't flinch. "Are you always this hostile?"
John sighed. "I apologize on his behalf. He gets like that when he's hungry."
The boy glanced at the plate in Nico's hands—piled high with enough food for three people. A slow smile spread across his face.
"He certainly has a healthy appetite."
John and Adam both laughed. Nico grumbled something unintelligible and stuffed even more food in his mouth.
The boy stayed a while longer. They talked—about nothing, really. Just superficial stuff with the boy asking questions and John answering carefully.
Adam was mostly focused on trying to devour the entire feast as he just ate and ate while Nico was still grumpy about the boy.
The other groups were still pouring in. Dozens turned into hundreds. The hall filled with voices, colors, and the clatter of footsteps on marble.
By the time the last group entered, there were over a thousand participants. Maybe more.
The boy stretched his arms. "Well, this has been fun."
He turned and started walking. At first, John, Nico, and Adam didn't pay him much attention, but then they saw where he was going.
Toward the main seat.
The elevated platform at the far end of the hall. The one John had assumed was for the big boss.
The boy climbed the steps.
He sat down.
The hall went quiet.
John's stomach dropped.
Nico just seemed to have short-circuited as he stood there and swallowed his food without chewing.
Adam's eyes went wide.
The boy—no, the Supreme One—looked down at them from his throne. His sharp eyes found John.
And he smiled.
Nico turned to John, voice barely a whisper. "I fucked up, didn't I?"
John didn't answer.
He was too busy remembering every word he'd just said.