Created and written by Mateo Woodson
Written and story boarded by John Fallout
Ephraim swung from branch to branch like a jungle-born vigilante, arms tight around Salt, who was still in her pajamas and full of complaints.
"What's going on?!" she shouted over the rushing wind. "Why are we running?! Why did you leave all our stuff?! I didn't see a killer—my motion sensor didn't even pick up anything in the whole forest!"
Ephraim twisted around a tree trunk and grunted, "A motion sensor? Salt, he is motion. That's child's play to him."
Salt blinked. "W-what are you even talking about?! Can we please stop?! I'm in my damn pajamas!"
Ephraim didn't slow. "We're not going back there. No shot. I'm getting you to the checkpoint, then I'll go back for our stuff."
He landed with a soft thud in front of the checkpoint gates.
Before he could speak, figures rushed toward them—Salt's family.
Two guards immediately shoved Ephraim back, while her mother wrapped a thick robe around Salt, shielding her from public view like she'd just been rescued from scandal.
Titus, Salt's father, stormed forward, eyes blazing. "What the hell did you do to my daughter, mudblood?! Whatever it was—you'll pay with your life!"
"Whoa—" Ephraim said, raising both hands, "That's kinda simple, actually—"
Before he could finish, Titus lunged. Ephraim bounced off Titus's chest, leapt onto a guard's head, flipped mid-air, kicked off the second guard's helmet like a gymnast, and web-slung backward up into the treetops.
"See ya, Salt!" he shouted over his shoulder, blowing her a kiss. "See you in the next round!"
"GET HIM!" Titus roared.
Spells burst into the sky like fireworks—missiles of color and heat spiraling after Ephraim as he swung between trees, dodging each blast with wild, laughing precision.
Titus spun on his daughter. "THE HELL WERE YOU DOING WITH A MUDBLOOD, RAPHINA?! I TOLD YOU THOSE PEOPLE ARE SCUM!"
"Dad, he saved me from the Leonice familia! They were—"
"THOSE FILTHY RATS?!" Titus screamed. "YOU'RE OUT IN THE FOREST DOING GOD KNOWS WHAT WITH—WITH THAT?!"
"His name is Ephraim!" Salt shouted. "And he didn't ask for anything. He saved me—for nothing!"
Titus's face twisted. "You even know its name? By the gods, I've failed you. If your grandfather was alive, he'd strike that mudblood dead where he stood."
Salt's fists clenched. "He saved me from being raped! I could have died! And you care more about who saved me than the fact I needed saving?"
"I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" Titus thundered. "IT'S ABOUT PRINCIPLE. WE DO NOT. TALK. TO MUDBLOODS."
He seized Salt by the arm and threw her into the family car like she was a piece of luggage.
"I WOULD'VE RATHER YOU BEEN ROBBED AND LEFT FOR DEAD THAN SAVED BY HIM. YOU'RE PROBABLY FILTHY NOW. LET'S GO!"
The car doors slammed. The engine roared. And the private vehicle sped off toward Round Two. [Back at the Campsite]
Ephraim landed in silence. The trees whispered around him like they'd been gossiping.
He picked up his shirt, shook off the dirt, and slipped it over his head. He slung Salt's bag over his shoulder and scanned the darkened woods.
Then he saw it.
A figure.
The man stood still, watching.
Ephraim narrowed his eyes. The man reached for his waist.
Ephraim tensed and launched forward—
The figure moved too.
Just before they collided, Ephraim caught a good look. Black dreads. A scar on the lip. Twin swords at the hip.
He skidded back and raised both hands. "Yo! My bad, man—I thought you were someone else."
The stranger stopped too. "Ooh, I apologize. I thought you were someone else."
Ephraim exhaled. "Name's Ephraim. Ephraim Boichi."
The man nodded and shook his hand. "Eliyah. Eliyah Boichi."
Ephraim's jaw dropped. "Wait, wait—you're a Boichi?! Which branch?!"
"Third family," Eliyah said calmly. "You?"
"Sixth. From my mom's side. Don't know my dad."
Eliyah raised an eyebrow. "You do know your clan's based on your father, right?"
"…Yeah, fair enough," Ephraim muttered. He looked around. "You camping out here?"
"Was about to head to the checkpoint," Eliyah replied. "You tagging along? Or you got a fair maiden waiting nearby?"
Ephraim snorted. "Had one. Took her to the checkpoint. Met her family."
Eliyah nodded knowingly. "Not your biggest fans?"
"Not even close."
"Yeah… I feel you."
They started walking together through the moonlit brush.
Five minutes in, Ephraim glanced sideways. "Yo, we got a day and a half walk, and it's only been five minutes. Any way to speed this up?"
Eliyah smirked. "I'm glad you asked."
He unsheathed one of his swords and tossed it into the air. It didn't fall.
It hovered. Spinning slowly.
Ephraim's eyes widened. "Holy shit."
Eliyah stepped onto the top of it like it was a surfboard.
Ephraim grinned, magnetized to the blade's bottom like an upside-down gremlin. "I like you already."
They blasted off toward the checkpoint, two Boichis flying through the sky like spirits made of lightning and speed.
Eliyah landed lightly at the checkpoint, his floating sword humming gently as it descended. Ephraim dropped from the underside and straightened out his jacket, his body still buzzing with leftover momentum.
"Well," Eliyah said, brushing dust from his shoulder, "it's been fun traveling with you, Ephraim."
Ephraim nodded and reached out his hand. "Same here. When I build my crew in Solaris, you're first mate."
Eliyah chuckled as they clasped hands. "Can't wait. You seem like an interesting person to follow."
They exchanged one last glance before splitting off—Eliyah heading to the southern side of the checkpoint, Ephraim turning toward the colosseum nestled into the cliff's edge.
He strolled toward it, muttering, "Ready for the next round… entrance should be… ok…"
The structure grew larger with each step, ancient yet somehow futuristic, its obsidian pillars glowing with faint divine script. As he approached, Ephraim glanced up at the sky and caught the moment the countdown timer struck zero.
A mechanical voice rang out over the mountaintop, sharp and chilling.
Nero: "Attention all combatants. Round One is officially over. Anyone still within the bounds of Round One will now be locked in and hunted by the Seraphim. There is no escape. May the Seraphim give you a quick death. Amen."
Ephraim tilted his head. "Yikes."
Footsteps echoed down the stone stairwell as someone descended toward the fighters gathered at the checkpoint. A man with a toga and small, feathered wings stepped into view. He walked with the casual arrogance of someone who thought they were born holy.
"Congratulations, contestants," he said with a smile. "The gods are pleased. So many fierce and powerful individuals... It warms the divine heart."
Ephraim rolled his eyes.
The man continued, "For now, get some rest. But before I go—each of you will receive a letter. Inside it are names—those will be your teammates for the next challenge."
He began handing out the sealed letters, embossed with golden wax and bound in twine. As he turned to leave, he paused, then looked back over his shoulder with a sly grin.
"Oh, and one more thing," he added, voice dripping with venomous silk. "Remember to keep your friends close… and your enemies closer. Also—if any of you see a dark mudblood with a scar on his lip and unruly clots of dreads… dresses like some ronin? Kill him."
He held up a letter with a sketch of Eliyah's face paper-clipped to the front.
The man smiled wider.
"His picture's on the letter."
Then he vanished up the stairs, his wings fluttering once before the shadows swallowed him whole.