The siren changed pitch.
Lower.
Longer.
More serious.
WARNING — LEVEL ONE
The first real wave sequence started.
The water pumps roared louder under the platforms, sending rolling waves across the pool, strong enough to make the chains pull tight before releasing again with a heavy metallic sound.
Every platform moved at the same time.
Not violently.
But enough to force everyone to adjust.
Ghost kept his feet wide, knees bent, one hand on the rope, eyes fixed on the central platform.
"Follow the rhythm," he said in the headset.
"Don't fight it."
One of his teammates answered, breathing fast.
"It's easy for you to say."
Another wave.
Someone on the far side lost balance for half a second but recovered.
The crowd reacted instantly.
On the screens, every player was shown in split view.
Name.
Kingdom.
Status.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
LEVEL ONE — STABLE
Ivy watched from the control desk, arms crossed, headset on, eyes moving between screens.
She knew this level.
They all survived this one during testing.
Her voice went through the channel again.
"Level one complete in thirty seconds."
A few players laughed nervously.
"That's level one??"
"Not funny."
Ghost didn't laugh.
He felt the rhythm.
Three seconds between waves.
Lift.
Drop.
Swing.
Lift.
Drop.
Swing.
He adjusted his stance slightly.
Lower.
More stable.
The siren changed again.
WARNING — LEVEL TWO
The water pumps got louder.
The waves came faster.
Stronger.
The platforms started moving unevenly now, not all at the same time.
One lifted while the next dropped.
Someone shouted in another channel.
"Watch the side!"
A player on the opposite row slipped.
His foot lost the plate for half a second.
He grabbed the rope.
Didn't make it.
He fell into the water.
Splash.
The crowd screamed.
On the screen:
TEAM 1421 — PLAYER OUT
Ivy inhaled slowly.
First fall.
One of the referees spoke through the system.
"Reserve allowed."
Above the structure, one of the suspended bridges lowered slightly.
The reserve from that team ran across, holding the ropes as the bridge moved under his feet.
The crowd cheered.
He reached the platform.
Climbed.
Took position.
Match continued.
Ghost spoke again.
"Stay low."
"Don't look at the water."
Jon answered.
"I am the water right now."
Rex laughed in another channel.
"Level two only, relax."
Another wave hit.
Stronger.
Another player fell.
Then another.
Two teams already used one reserve.
Ivy pressed the mic again.
"Good control."
"Keep your stance."
Her eyes stopped on Ghost's screen again.
He hadn't moved.
Still standing.
Still steady.
Of course.
WARNING — LEVEL THREE
The siren screamed louder this time.
The lights turned darker.
The pumps roared.
The waves came higher now, crashing against the padding under the plates, water splashing up to their legs.
Platforms started swinging harder.
Chains shaking.
Metal creaking.
Someone yelled in the headset.
"This is level three??!"
Another voice:
By the time the third level ended, nobody in the arena was laughing anymore.
The first minutes had felt like a game.
Now it felt like endurance.
Seven fighters from each team stood on their platforms, spread across the two rows of thirty-five suspended plates, while the reserves stayed on the central platform, watching, waiting, ready to move the moment their name was called.
The waves had already been running for nearly an hour.
Level one had been easy.
Level two had started to shake people.
Level three had taken the first real eliminations.
Now the siren changed again.
Long.
Low.
Uncomfortable.
WARNING — LEVEL FOUR
The lights shifted to darker red.
The pumps roared louder.
The waves hit harder, lifting the platforms higher before dropping them unevenly.
At the same time, the giant fans hidden behind the arena walls turned on, sending strong gusts of wind across the structure.
Not constant.
Random.
Unpredictable.
The combination made the chains swing sideways.
Every platform started moving in two directions at once.
Up and down.
Left and right.
Ghost adjusted his stance instantly.
Feet wide.
Knees bent.
One hand on the rope.
He could feel the difference immediately.
"Wind active," he said in the headset.
"Lower your center."
One of his teammates cursed.
"This is not level four, this is death."
Another gust hit.
One of the fighters from another kingdom lost balance and grabbed the chain.
Didn't make it.
Splash.
The crowd screamed.
On the big screen:
TEAM 1489 — PLAYER OUT
From the central platform, the referee spoke.
"Reserve ready."
One of the reserves ran to the suspended bridge, grabbed the side ropes, and crossed carefully while the bridge moved under his feet.
The crowd cheered as he reached the platform and took the empty spot.
The challenge continued.
Ghost stayed standing.
But barely.
Another wave hit sideways.
His platform tilted hard.
He dropped to one knee.
Jon's voice came in the headset.
"You good??"
"Yeah."
Another gust.
Stronger.
Ghost swore under his breath.
He lowered himself more.
One knee.
One hand.
Then both knees.
Then finally he did what he had seen others do earlier.
He laid flat on the platform, chest against the padding, arms wrapped around the rope, legs spread to keep balance.
"Lower is better," he said.
"Stay low."
His teammates copied him.
Across the structure, players started dropping down too.
The announcer voice echoed.
"Round Four continues."
Another wave.
Another fall.
TEAM 1421 — PLAYER OUT
Then another.
TEAM 1378 — PLAYER OUT
In team 1393, one of the fighters lost his footing when the wind hit sideways.
His knee slipped.
His hand missed the rope.
He fell.
Splash.
Jon swore loudly.
"Shit!"
The referee voice:
"1393 — reserve ready."
On the central platform, the first reserve from their team ran to the bridge.
He crossed slowly, fighting the wind, the bridge swinging under him.
Ghost watched without moving, still flat on the plate.
The reserve reached the platform.
Climbed.
Took position.
Round continued.
More time passed.
Minutes.
Then more.
The waves didn't stop.
The wind didn't stop.
People started breathing harder.
Arms shaking.
Legs tired.
Even lying down wasn't easy anymore.
The siren changed again.
Higher.
Sharper.
WARNING — LEVEL FIVE
The crowd reacted instantly.
Everyone knew.
Last level.
The pumps went to full power.
The waves became irregular, crashing against the platforms from different angles.
The fans howled louder, pushing the chains sideways.
The entire structure started to swing.
On the central platform, the reserves grabbed the rails to keep balance.
One of the fighters from 1393 tried to stand up to adjust his position.
Big mistake.
A gust hit at the same time as a wave.
His foot slipped.
He grabbed the rope.
Held for one second.
Two.
Then lost it.
Splash.
The screen flashed.
1393 — PLAYER OUT
Silence for half a second.
Then the referee voice:
"Reserve required."
On the central platform, the last reserve looked toward the referee.
Then toward the bridge.
Then toward Ivy.
She was already standing.
Helmet in her hand.
Life jacket half open.
One of the staff members spoke fast.
"You sure?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
Another gust shook the central platform.
She grabbed the rope, put the helmet on, and tightened the jacket.
In the headset, Ghost heard the referee.
"1393 reserve entering."
He lifted his head slightly.
Just enough to see the central platform.
And saw her.
Walking toward the bridge.
His chest tightened instantly.
Jon's voice:
"Bloomy??"
Rex in the channel:
"No way…"
Ghost didn't say anything.
He just watched.
Ivy grabbed the side ropes of the suspended bridge.
The wind pushed the bridge sideways.
The water crashed below.
The crowd went silent.
Step.
The bridge moved.
Step.
Another gust.
She stopped.
Held the rope.
Waited.
Then moved again.
Ghost didn't move at all.
Still flat on his platform.
Eyes locked on her.
Another wave hit.
The bridge swung hard.
She almost lost balance but held the rope tighter.
Someone in another team shouted.
"Careful!"
She didn't answer.
Just kept moving.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Finally she reached the platform.
The referee shouted.
"Replace now!"
The empty plate moved under the wind.
She climbed.
Put one knee down.
Then both.
Then lowered herself flat against the padding exactly like Ghost.
Arms around the rope.
Legs spread.
Same position.
He watched her for a second longer.
Then spoke in the headset, voice low but steady.
"Stay low."
She answered, breath slightly shaken.
"I hate this thing."
Jon laughed.
"You built it!"
Another voice:
"Yeah, you did this to us!"
She almost smiled.
"Yeah… well… it looked easier on paper."
Even Ghost smirked.
Another wave hit.
Both of their platforms moved at the same time.
She tightened her grip.
He didn't look away.
For the rest of the round…
They held.