The Dragon on the Cracked Shore

The next round did not return them to the arena they knew.

There was no roaring crowd, no bright music, no confetti, and no safe illusion of play. The remaining contestants stood on a cracked volcanic shore with the ocean behind them, magma veins glowing through the sand, and an ancient dragon bound in front of them.

Six chains stretched from wooden structures around the field. A seventh held the dragon by the neck.

High above, Exaba Prime leaned from a brass-and-marble platform and announced the final round with manic delight. Break a chain, take a prize. Break enough chains, move closer to greatness. The dragon would move closer to freedom at the same time.

The offer was not comforting.

The party was injured, unrested, and already aware that the game used every reward as pressure. Nick questioned whether freeing the dragon was a good idea at all. Maine wanted a way to survive without feeding the trap. Ash saw the simple path in front of him: break chains, get prizes, try not to die.

Then the prisoners' side of the round became visible.

Dhaz and Jonah were no longer contestants on the field. They were chained to void tables like Victor, strapped down with strange devices drawing blood, surrounded by other captive viewers and screens. Dhaz's screen gave him three choices: for me, for you, and for us. Jonah's screen showed static and strange movement, like someone was trying to push a face through reality.

Dhaz chose for us.

The party gained a surge of health, enough to keep them moving.

Jonah prayed. Through the screen, Jebus began to answer.

The final round had split the party into two roles: those forced to fight below, and those forced to influence from the studio. Exaba Prime called it entertainment. The party was learning to call it another prison.