"Interesting," Van said as he looked back at the mirror to watch the torches continue to flicker. They were going in a certain pattern. "Sang, look at this," he said as he pointed to the torches.
Sang leaned forward and watched. "Hey, I think that's Morse code! It's spelling something, alright."
"Gee, because everyone knows Morse code," Sahara said. "That's kind of a crappy puzzle."
"There's a guidebook over here!" Fredlin said as he picked up a book. "Check it out, it's got the whole alphabet."
"Luckily, Sang can already read it!" Van said. "That'll save us time."
"That's good," Kylian said as he pointed to the ground, "because that's starting to rumble a little harder."
"I think we're making good time," Van said. "Well? What's it say?"
"From the looks of it, I believe it's telling us that the only way to escape this room is to flip all of the tables."
"Is that the exact wording?" Van asked.
"The exact wording is, 'To get ahead, you must turn the tables,'" Sang replied.
"Well, I guess we could flip the tables," Kylian said. "But that sounds too straight-forward."
"Yeah, because reading a message in a mirror on torches that are blinking in Morse code is straight-forward," Sang replied, her voice dripping with a venomous sarcasm.
"Let's just try it," Sahara said as she grabbed one of the tables and flipped it over. Kylian and Fredlin grabbed the other two and flipped them over, as well. They waited for a moment, but nothing happened.
"Clock is ticking," Fredlin said as the ground continued to rumble. The sound beneath them was growing more fierce and Van knew it was only a matter of time before something bad happened.
"Turn the tables, turn the tables."
"Wait!" Kylian said as he pointed to the place where the coin had been. There was a small hole where the coin would fit perfectly. "The coin was in the tails position when we pulled it out." He flipped the coin so that it was facing the heads position and placed it back in the hole.
There was another grinding noise, but this time it was the north wall, slowly shifting and transforming into a large lion's head.
"You may pass!" the lion statue said as it opened its mouth very wide. The mouth was wide enough for everyone to be able to crawl through.
"Quick!" Van said as he scrambled through the hole. "We gotta move."
He crawled for a few feet and then emerged from the other side of the hole to see that he was in some kind of a lobby. It looked like a waiting room – a few other players were sitting around, pouring orange juice from large carafes and talking amongst themselves.
"Move it!" Sang said as she climbed out of the hole and fell onto the ground. Kylian, Fredlin, and Sahara poured out on top of her.
"Man, I think we're in the waiting room for the next challenge," Van said as he helped Sang to her feet.
"That food smells good," Sang replied as she walked over to one of the tables and began to eat some of the bacon that had been piled up on a plate.
The rest of the team joined her, indulging in the virtual food. Sure, it served no nourishing purpose, but it was incredibly delicious. As Van munched on a virtual bagel, another player walked up to him. His name was Peterson and he was looking rather nervous.
"Hey," Peterson said.
"Hi," Van said.
"We lost one of ours to the fire. That riddle at the end was insane," Peterson said. "You guys doing okay?"
"We're doing fine," Van said, unsure what this guy was looking for.
"This next challenge is going to be crazy. It's some kind of survival contest. All of this food? It's meant to help fuel us up."
"Fuel us up for what?" Van asked.
"The Survival Quest! Apparently, they've got some kind of stats system rigged where it will track our hunger and our thirst in the game. We'll actually have to eat and drink in order to keep playing," Peterson said. "That's crazy, right? That is some hardcore survivalist stuff. I mean, I dig it, but I'm just interested in what it looks like."
"Sounds interesting," Van said. "Did I miss orientation?"
"Nah, some attendant comes in and reads the instructions for the next mission every twenty minutes. I'm assuming this will keep going until everyone finishes up in their escape rooms."
Van nodded at the guess in between bites.
"Hey, let me ask you something," Peterson said as he leaned in close to Van. "This next operation is a little… brutal sounding. The gist is that we're gonna be dropped into the woods, the remaining players. Now, every player still sticks with his team, but the fact is, our job is to eliminate every other team. Since the elements are gonna be extra harsh, we're fighting against our hunger, the land around us, and our foes. It's gonna be tough. You got five guys, and we got four. Only five will remain, so what do you say we make a little arrangement?"
"I'm listening," Van said.
"It's simple; your team and mine have a nonaggression pact until the remaining 16 are eliminated," Peterson said. "I'm not saying let's work together, because let's face it, neither of us are going to trust one another. So, if we see each other, we just go in different directions. In a scrap, maybe we help one another out. Here's the beauty of it, too: this is the final test, so only 5 survivors will win the tournament. So if your numbers drop below five and if we take some losses, both of us could win here. If not, and we get to the point where there are only us 9 left, I say we agree to meet up in the middle and just duke it out… no surprises, no sneaky raids. Just honorable fighting."
"How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?" Van asked.
"We have no way of knowing that," Peterson said with a chuckle, "but let's face it, it's not a bad idea. If you don't come at me, my team won't come at you."
"Have you made this arrangement with anyone else?" Van asked as he looked around at the lobby.
"Nah," Peterson said as he shook his head. "A lot of these other teams are looking pretty rough and tumble. You're the only group with a wizard and a ranger, so I figure your chances of survival are a little lower. No offense, but the more you lose, the better this arrangement becomes for you, and vice versa."
"No offense taken," Van said. "Alright, we've got a deal. We don't go near your team and you don't go near ours, but if I see you guys within 50 feet of us and your weapons are out, the deal is off."
"Good deal," Peterson said as he extended a hand. Van shook it, knowing the handshake was meaningless if the man had some kind of clever scheme planned. He had no way of knowing if this Peterson was trustworthy or not, but time would prove whether or not it would be a problem.
As Van and Peterson discussed their favorite parts of the game in idle small talk, a short man scuttled out from an ornate, golden door.
"Attention!" the man said as he opened up a long scroll. "For those who have just joined us, I implore you to listen."
This quieted down the entire room as everyone looked at the little man.
"You have made it to the final part of the tournament. You are one challenge away from becoming a professional Draco player, adorned with riches and splendor that will last you the rest of your life! Yet, Draco is only looking for the best of the best. Those of you here have displayed cunning, teamwork, martial prowess, intelligence, and problem solving, and these are all strong qualities. But there is only one thing we cannot prove in a simple simulation: true courage. If you wish to prove to us that you have true courage and strength of character, then you must be willing to face your greatest fears. Listen, then, as I warn you now, those who opt to remain in the next part of this tournament will have their biofeedback systems activated to a lethal mode.
"If your character suffers from a lethal blow, or if your character dies of dehydration or starvation, a powerful biofeedback force will end your actual life. This is not a joke, nor a reference; what I tell you is truth. If you enter this next part, you will be risking your life to become a Draco pro."