Chương 3: 2. Preliminary Trial

So that's what it was. I had wondered how Marcus had consistently been so lucky. Now I had my answer. The intuition special decreased the number of choices by half. When combined with his natural smarts, it was no wonder that he'd made all the good gambles. Come to think of it, he had beaten me a few times as well. I let go of his hand, looking back at the increasing crowd. The status box vanished. Judging by Marcus' lack of reaction, I was the only one who'd seen it.

"It's someone from that lot." He nodded in the direction of a small group separate from the rest. I didn't recognize any of them. They were slightly older than me, all dressed in black brand t-shirts and torn-up black jeans. There was little doubt they knew each other.

"The last guest has arrived!" a cheerful voice filled the room, putting an end to any potential conversations between me and Marcus.

"Please move away from the center." There was a moment of silence, followed by confusion. Some quickly rushed to the walls as if fearing the ceiling would crash down on them. Others, Carl included, looked around, running from person to person in a state of panic. He had done the same last time, getting quite a few people hurt. I remember wanting to grab him by the collar and pull him aside. Back then I had been too alarmed with everything else to react. Now, I knew better.

"Hey!" I shouted, making my way through the people.

"Quit causing trouble and do what you're told!" I grabbed him by the shoulder, expecting his status box to become visible. It didn't. Apparently, Harlequin's Sight required that I come into contact with someone's skin for it to have an effect.

"What's your problem?" Carl tried to pull away. Even when shaken, he was still complicating things, heading in the wrong direction.

"The voice said to move away from the center!" I shouted, making sure that the rest of the hesitators got the message. Tightening my grip, I forcefully pulled him back towards the wall.

"You can't do this to me! I'm a very important—" Whatever he was about to say became irrelevant, as a flash of light emerged in the middle of the room. Two glowing spheres—red and yellow—spun around each other, merging into one. Arms and legs popped out, forming the monster that I knew far too well.

"Hello, hello, dear guests!" the jester-like puppet said, a wicked smile carved onto its porcelain mask.

"I am so glad to see you here. I am Harlequin, and will guide you through the trials of the Grand Arcana!" He bowed, the bells on his cap ringing as he did.

"Huh?" the man in the tourist shirt said.

"Are you some kind of jester?"

"Why, yes, Giuseppe," Harlequin straightened up.

"I am the jester of the gods, rule-master of the field, friend to the fortunate, and your guide through the trials of the Grand Arcana, as I've just said." The silence turned to whispers. While everyone was wondering what was going on, I released Carl and focused on the faces of the other participants. Most were bewildered, as one might expect. However, there were a few that seemed unusually calm. Marcus was one of them, along with a girl from the goth group.

"I'm sure you have many questions," Harlequin continued.

"So, let me—""Are we in purgatory?" Someone interrupted.

"Purgatory?" Harlequin's head twisted a hundred and twenty degrees to the left, followed a second later by his body.

"It's what's written on the wall." The terrified soul pointed. Harlequin snapped his fingers. The black lines that composed the letters trickled toward one another, forming a single large dot. Once all of them were gone, the dot shot out of the wall, straight into the right hand of our "guide."

"Thank you for pointing that out," Harlequin said.

"As a reward, I'll change your special to Pain Endurance." The black dot flew out of Harlequin's hand, straight at the man's forehead. Lucky bastard, I thought. The special reduced the sensation of pain. While a bit tricky, it provided a huge advantage in many of the challenges. On the other hand, I had no idea what the person's initial special had been. There always was a chance that he'd lost something better. All this hadn't occurred last time.

Back then, Carl's pestering had caused quite a few people to remain near the center of the room during Harlequin's arrival. Carl himself hadn't been harmed, but about ten people had ended up with painful scars all over their hands and faces. After that, no one had dared to interrupt. My pulling Carl away had changed the course of events slightly, something I had to be mindful of going forward.

"Now, let us continue. All of you were selected by the Grand Arcana." A cone of massive cards formed above the red and yellow jester. All the cards had their backs turned towards us, displaying the emblem of the Arcana: a globe, a balance, and two masks—one happy and one sad.

"What is the Grand Arcana, you might ask? It's everything you've ever wanted and most things you did not. Powers, skills, benefits, penalties, the cards hold all, and it's for you to try and claim them." No one said a word.

"No questions?" Harlequin looked around.

"Good. At the moment, you're a blank slate." My status box appeared in front of me. I resisted the urge to look around, unlike most of the others, focusing on my information instead. Gregory Wiles Level: none Cards: none Special: Harlequin's Sight"What you see is what you represent," Harlequin continued.

"Don't worry, only you can see your status box. Since you're starting, there's nothing much to see. As you progress through the trials, you'll increase your Arcana level and gain new and exciting cards." The moment he said that, the cards above him flipped around. It was said that there were a hundred and four of them, though no one knew for sure. The only thing for certain was that there were too many for a person to gather in a lifetime. Love this story?

Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! Each card held the name of a class, its picture, and the skills one received upon obtaining it. The rarer the card, the more skills it offered early on. Out of habit, I skimmed through the cards in search of a four-skill card, but didn't find any.

"The card provides the class," Harlequin explained for the unenlightened.

"The class provides the skills, and the skills grant you a greater chance of surviving the trials." Questions poured from all sides, just like last time. I also had been one of those shouting in panic. Looking back now, I felt ashamed of myself, but it was a natural reaction upon hearing the phrase "chance of surviving." One of the cards popped with a loud bang, erasing the noise out of existence.

"Please, please." Harlequin held his hands together.

"Contain your enthusiasm. Of course, if any of you think they'd prefer not to take part in the trials, all you have to do is remain here." I remembered this part. Several people looked around, searching for someone brave enough to ask the obvious question. I did the same.

"You'll let us go?" the woman from the goth group asked with a smirk.

"No. You'll simply remain here with all your possessions and nothing else until the room has to be used once more." There were no illusions on the matter. Just like last time, Harlequin slowly turned around, his mask fixating on every person. In nearly every case, the person looked away, avoiding the smiling porcelain. When my turn came, Harlequin paused. It only lasted for a few seconds, but enough to tell everyone that something wasn't right. The special, I thought.

You see my special—the one you gave me yourself, but can't remember. I could feel the intense pressure of his eyeless gaze. Thankfully, it was soon over. The jester continued on, scaring the daylights out of the rest.

"Tough luck," Marcus whispered.

"He hates you." All I could do was smile.

"Since everyone is willing to participate in the trials, let me explain the general rules," Harlequin said. The cone of cards collapsed, shuffling into a deck.

"Each trial will challenge you to achieve a goal. The greater your Arcana level, the more difficult the trial." The goth girl raised her hand.

"Yes?" Harlequin turned in her direction.

"In what order are the cards given?" she asked.

"Or is it random?"

"You choose your own once the trial is over." This caused a new wave of whispers, a lot more cautious than before. This was just one of the many unpleasant surprises that awaited us.

"The cards aren't the means for you to complete the trial; they are the prize," the jester clarified.

"But you said they increase our chances of surviving the trials," another said.

"Indeed, they do. They help you survive future trials." Ten cards rose up from the stack, sticking face down to one of the walls. The cards were arranged in three rows: six at the "bottom", then three above, and finally one on top.

"Your performance in the trial determines who gets to pick first." Harlequin danced gleefully.

"The one who does best can choose from any card." The top card vanished.

"Those who follow get to pick what's left." One by one, all the cards vanished until the wall was bare once more.

"You only see the cards and the skills they provide once everyone has completed the trial." That was a lie. Or rather, that was a rule subject to change. During later trials, we wouldn't get to see all the cards, only the ones that were left. At that point, information became almost as valuable as the cards themselves.

"Two more things. You can't choose to not pick a card." The smile on the porcelain face seemed to widen.

"If you don't, I'll select one for you. Finally, only the living have the right to choose a card." The last sentence was a bit too theatrical even for him, but it had its effect. Most of the people were already in shock. Those who weren't were desperately searching for a loophole. Poor souls, they had no idea that the real shock was yet to come. In the air, the deck of cards shuffled again. Five cards flew to a wall, where they stuck face down.

As before, there were three rows, only this time, the top row had three cards and each other only one.

"The deities of the Grand Arcana are aware that most of you are probably confused," Harlequin said.

"That's why, in their benevolence, they have tasked me with presenting you with a zero trial. Unlike the standard trials, you won't win anything, but then again you also won't lose anything much, either." The jester rose into the air. As it did, red and yellow balloons started raining from the ceiling. Each balloon darted to a different participant, stopping five inches above their heads. This was it—the preliminary round.

"All you need to do in order to complete this trial is to say out loud the color of your balloon." Harlequin floated above us.

"You're not allowed to indicate the color of someone else's balloon. You're not allowed to touch your balloon. The first twenty of you who succeed will be allowed to go to the real trial. The rest will be taken away, and their fate will be left to the Grand Arcana." Not death, but not life either. Avon claimed to have failed his first zero trial. From what he said, he was taken to a small, closed room, where he was forced to solve mind-twisters for months.

Each solved puzzle would earn him a glass of water; every five—a meal. When he successfully solved a thousand, he was finally allowed to retake the zero trial with a new group. On my part, I had been a lot more fortunate. Desperate, I had bet it all on luck and yelled a color. It so happened that I had been correct.

"They're changing color!" a large man shouted, pointing at one of his neighbors.

"It was red and now it's y—" With a loud pop, the man vanished, leaving the balloon to drop to the floor.

"I did warn you not to mention the color of another's balloon." Harlequin rubbed his hands.

"Yes, the balloons do change color every fifteen seconds, so don't pick colors at random unless you're willing to stake your life on it." Already, people were attempting different methods to determine the color of their balloons. Some tried to twist their necks in such a fashion as to glimpse it, while others looked around for anything that could serve as a reflective surface. I had seen it all before, but I'd also seen a far better method.

"Red," Marcus said without hesitation. The balloon above his head popped, indicating he had guessed. At the time, I thought that he had counted all the balloons, determined how many of each there were, and calculated the answer. Now I knew it was all thanks to his special. Since there were two possible choices, his intuition had reduced the options by half, leaving him with the correct answer. I would have preferred if he had helped, but at least that gave me a chance to get close to another ally early on.

Walking across the room, I made my way to Cathy. She gave the impression of being confused, even afraid, but that was a front. In a minute from now, she would make a somersault and see the color of the balloon as it was struggling to keep up.

"Hey." I flashed a smile as I got a step away from her.

"Can I ask you something?" The girl looked at me as if I'd walked out of the toilet with my trousers unzipped. She was five years my senior, though her short size and slender frame made her look as if she'd just started college.

"Okay?"

"Tell me when my balloon switches color." She took a step back.

"Please," I whispered.

"It's not a trick or a joke. You don't even have to say anything. Just nod when it changes color." Cathy kept staring at me. The Grand Arcana wasn't a place of blind trust. I'd come to know that firsthand. However, I also knew her character. Competitive and calculating, she was always eager to improve, and any suggestion, no matter how strange, that had the potential to bring her one step closer to her goals was always welcome. The seconds ticked on.

I had probably passed the first switch and was now waiting for the second.

"I'm Greg, by the way." She remained silent.

"While we're waiting, can you do me another favor?" I whispered. No one was paying any attention to me yet, but it was better not to risk it.

"Once the color changes, I'll ask you a question, and I want you to answer with yes or no only. Then, you get to ask me." The woman crossed her arms. With all the pressure, I couldn't tell whether she was intrigued or annoyed. A few seconds more and I watched her balloon shift from red to yellow.

"It switched," she said almost immediately after.

"Am I red?" I asked.

"Err, yes."

"Red," I said. There was a loud pop above my head. Hearing it, I let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness she hadn't lied. That was the only drawback to this method—it relied heavily on trust. The only reason it worked was because most of the people hadn't yet become jaded by the trials.

"Am I red?" Cathy asked back.

"No," I quickly replied.

"Yellow!" she shouted, her voice ringing through the entire room. As the balloon above her head popped, I knew I'd won myself another temporary ally.