Page 72 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

My thoughts became increasingly panicked. How did John dispose of Horace’s body? Did I not actually kill him?

I sucked on my pipe as Lothaire resumed talking about the games like everything had been cleared up.

“The Legionnaire Games are not a normal tournament by any means. They’re not a medieval killing spree like you’re probably expecting. This is not a pissing contest to see who can stab other people most effectively.”

Not what I’d expected.

Lothaire shouted over the ocean’s roar, “The gods already know about your legions’ physical prowesses.”

He paused.

“To lead a war, you all must be so much more than warriors.”

I exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Lothaire glared at each of us. “You will make gut-wrenching decisions under pressures that none of you can imagine. Repeatedly. And you’ll have to make the right ones or people will die. The fate of civilization as we know it will be in all your hands.”

I coughed as I sucked in smoke too quickly.

He did not just say that?

Sun god, had he ever heard of not jinxing people? The realms were 100 percent doomed.

RIP civilization. I made the sign of respect for the dead with my hand. It was good while it lasted; I was going to miss showers and freedom.

Although, technically, I had no free will.

Guess it was just showers.

Lothaire’s expression was flat as he said, “The games are the most demanding psychological test in all the realms.”

Who said that to people? Was he trying to make us panic?

It was working.

“Sweet,” Jinx whispered and fist-bumped the air. I stepped out of line and kicked her in the shins.

She fell to her knees, and Jax glared back at her and told her to behave.

Jinx made a vulgar gesture.

I smirked, then turned back to stare at the frothing ocean as Lothaire hammered away further at my nonexistent will to live.

He said, “On the morning of each competition, I will announce the specific combination of people the gods want to see compete. Most weeks, they will choose, but sometimes you will have to decide as a legion who will compete. You will be judged on your selections. Everything is a test.”

I picked at the scab on my lip.

Lothaire’s eye roamed over each of the legions. “The rules for each competition will change. The loser of each competition will be punished. The punishments will be chosen by the gods.”

I picked harder at my lip.

“This is a psychological showcase. You will be judged on every choice you make. It’s not just about what you’re willing to dole out; it’s about what you’re willing to take. You will be judged on how you suffer.”

The scab on my lip ripped off, and I rolled the flap of skin into a ball between my fingers.

Droplets of salt water burned the open cut.

Lothaire pointed to the academy.

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