As it turns out, civilization is cyclical, and we’re back to barbaric. Football was no longer violent enough as an entrapment scheme to entertain the rich, so they created new games. Ones much more primal. They were cruel but so was I. They were lethal and I was prepared to die. All of them pit us against our fellow man in a test of will and whit. But there was none more glorious than this. The Currency Race.
–
I caught a glimpse of my reflection through the tip of the arrow whizzing past my face. It was that of a hunter. Eat what I kill. Ravenous to say the least. Trusting only in myself for survival. To live or to die would be by my own accord. In need of no companionship or aid. Therefore, the glory would be mine and mine alone. This, was my code.
Albeit, in this race, I had no choice. 500 Race Credits showed on my wristwatch. The minimum amount. A mustard seed compared to the millions that the other contestants had.
To explain, Race Credits were the currency system in this race. World dooming corporations and celebrities paid loads of money to own Race Funds; supplying the athletes with resources to help them win. Different funds offered different things. Anything from food, to medicine, to weapons. However, it wasn’t like a market where you simply just buy and receive in exchange. Rather, it was more like a mutual fund, in which they hold your Race Credits, and reward you accordingly. The more you put in, the more you’re rewarded. The longer you keep in, the more you’re rewarded.
But there was one more option. The Race Credits themselves enhanced physical strength and endurance. So best believe that my measly 500 RC was staying in my pocket. When I bet on myself, I go all in.
–
The race was a series of two separate components: obstacles you face alone, and battle royal with the other contestants. And without a shred of armor, I charged into the first obstacle: a corridor of traps.
The notion of tiptoeing hadn’t even tiptoed in my mind. I figured sprinting past the traps was safer than trying to predict each one. After all, life is full of traps. It’s better to keep your eyes on the goal and run with momentum, as opposed to living in fear.
Scorching the air, another arrow hurled itself directly onto me. Without slowing down I slid onto my knees and folded my torso back to my feet. The arrow flew above my arched body so close to my face that I could’ve kissed it. No rest for the weary though. Immediately I triggered another trap. Left? Right? In front? BELOW! Still sliding I planted my palms into the ground and just barely somersaulted myself over the rapidly ascending arrow. Back on my feet again I could see the exit and headed towards it at full speed. An onslaught of arrows shot horizontally at me but I was moving too fast. One more step. Can’t be stopped.
*SHING*
Arrows shot from each corner of the exit in an ‘X’ pattern. Simultaneously, no maybe even before, without even realizing it, my body dove horizontally towards the exit. Just one small window between them. Twirling. Stretching. And by the skin of my teeth, I slid through. But one of those daggone arrow nicked me on my shoulder, “Pfft, whatever.”
–
Blood thirsty fans yelled voraciously at my deliverance through the corridor. Not because they were happy for me, but because it was feeding time. Time for the first battle. Yet, I was the only one who had made it through. Everyone must have still been timidly trying to ease their way through the traps. And with no armor and no weapon, I wasn’t planning on sticking around to wait for them. The entrance to the next obstacle was about 100 meters away. 8 seconds. Cratering the ground, I exploded toward the gates. Halfway there. C’mooon. GET THERE. 20 more meters. C’MON!
*SHICK*
Had he thrown the javelin a meter shorter, I would’ve been a shish kabob. Instead, it impaled the ground with its tail at my throat. Like someone holding a knife to a hostage. At least I had a weapon now.
“You’re in a hurry, huh?!” He jeered at me. “I guess I would be too if I was as naked as you. What’s the matter? Low on funds?”
“Tcht.” I scoffed. “You came into this world naked, and you’ll die the same way!”
I opened up his profile on my wristwatch. Canaan Dagger. 844,000 RC. Not bad. Half of it invested in weapons and armor funds. But the scary part was the other half was still in his pocket. Dude was juiced. But I didn’t care about none of that, I had seen much worse in my life, and I would slaughter him just li-
“You won’t beat him on your own.” A voice whispered through my earpiece. The Calvary Fund, my watch read. The runt of all the funds. None one, and I mean no one, invested in them.
“Yeah? And I suppose you and all your glory can save me?” I responded sarcastically.
“Yes.”
“Whatever dude. I’m better off keeping this RC invested in myself. Bug off so I can focus!”
“Alright.”
Two more contestants had entered into the field, but my sights were locked on Canaan. No disrespect to my name would be tolerated. And as surely as this race was mine, he would choke on his own arrogance.
Sword in hand he raged towards me. Javelin in mine I did the same. I had encountered men like him before. A ‘live by the sword die by the sword’ type of guy. It would be the latter for him today. For a man can only last so long trusting in a speechless idol such as a sword. Your rescue plea will fall on deaf ears, as you fall on the very tool you swore would protect you.
10 meters away from each other he slyly threw a throwing knife at me. Quickly I ducked into a somersault, and as soon as I was upright on my knees his sword was crashing down towards my skull. A witty move I do concede. But in one swift succession I blocked it with the javelin, barrel rolled to my left, and swept his legs from under him with a kick. His body thudded onto the ground, and I wasted no time to get up and thrust my javelin into him. But it met only the Earth.
I now had his respect, yet he stayed on the attack. He wildly slashed his sword at me like he was cutting threw vines in the forest. But I was nibble. Left slip. Right slip. Duck. The thrashes kept coming and coming. I figured he would tire, but he never did. I couldn’t stay on the defensive forever. There! An opening! Again, without my consent, my body jolted off the ground, lunging straight for his stomach. Gotchya! But to my large dismay he sidestepped and buried the butt of his sword into my ribs. And I was now at his mercy.
“Well I guess it’ll be you dying naked after all. Peasant.”
For the first time, doubt crept into my mind as I crawled backwards. His grin was of one who smelled blood. His laugh was of one who was drunk with victory.
–
“Change your mind yet?” The voice whispered in my ear.
I angrily growled under my breath. The thought of relying on someone else was repugnant. “I’ll live and I’ll die on my own!”
“Alright.”
Canaan raised his sword. The sun reflected off of it in what I thought would be my last glimpse of light. But as it thundered down towards me, my pride, the only thing I had left, departed from me.
“OK IT’S YOURS!” I screamed. And in that moment his sword plunged into a shield now on my arm, and I plunged the javelin into his lungs. A breath of relief filled my body, as I watched his breath return to which it came.
–
“Ok I admit it, you got me out of that one. Pat yourself on the back. But I’ve gotta keep at least half of my RC in my pocket.”
“That will not be an option, sir. Here at The Calvary Fund we have an all or nothing policy. We accept whatever amount of RC you have, but the totality of it must be invested in our fund. In exchange we ensure full coverage of any need a contestant may have in order to be successful in the race.”
“Aaahhh, I see. It all makes sense now. I finally see why NO ONE invests in your fund. You all are CRAZY!”
“Do we have a deal?”
Canaan was only the beginning. There would be more skilled fighters with even more RC in the later rounds. I believe in myself, but I’m not stupid. If I’m gonna ascend to the heights that aspire to, I needed help, I didn’t have a choice.
“Fine.” I uttered begrudgingly.
–
Hallucinogenic gas would be the second obstacle. A chemically engineered substance that targets the trauma center of the brain, inducing haunting visions constructed from one’s past. Crippling even the strongest of minds.
What came even before any vision was a feeling. One I knew all too well. Inadequacy. What followed was my transportation into a trophy room. No, even more vain, it was like a shrine, a temple, but for myself. There I was, surrounded by hundreds of rewards and accolades, all of them bearing my own face, as if I had awarded them to myself, but before me stood one pedestal with an empty case. And although the room was quiet, its very presence spoke volumes. No frequency could achieve the audio quality of this visions message. What it encapsulated was the lonely unfulfillment of the desire for external approval. When no matter what you’ve achieved, or who you believe you are, it’s never enough, until it’s validated by others. Achievement after achievement only brings more and more disappointment because it goes unseen. Teeth gritted and lip curled I stumbled backwards in disgust, but I tripped over another pedestal. On the ground, trophies and medals began to rain onto me. Burying me in unsatisfactory acknowledgment. I couldn’t breathe. But not because of this metallic asphyxiation. But because even in this heap swallowing me alive, the only thing I could I think of was that empty case. And that’s the feeling I lived with my whole life.
–
“You’re not your past. You’re only what you’ve learned from it.”
Wise words are like cold water to the thirsty. The humble rejoice at correction. Armor, artillery, and athleticism can’t save you. But it was a gentle whisper that assured me victory. And with it, I awoke.
–
With only 500 RC invested in them, The Calvary Fund had saved me again. Only this time, the reality of what I had been brought into was made clear to me. Without a slither of a doubt, I understood that this was the most capable fund. And I also understood that they were well aware of this too. But rather than exercising their dominance and demanding large sums of RC, they choose to exercise gentleness and humility. Simply because they weren’t looking for the fastest warhorse, but the most loyal. It was righteously noble. And being a part of that gave me a sense of honor that I had never felt before, but knew I never wanted to be without. In the presence of my savior, I was ready serve.
Now recovered from the mental toll that had been taken on me I looked up to the cameras in the arena. My face held as one who had just been forgiven of his debt. Speechless, still dumbfounded, not even fully comprehending the grace. And without words I simply nodded my head at them with the deepest respect. As this was the most sincere form of gratitude I could give.
–
Burned away was the arrogance once used to cover my shame. And from the ashes a new sense of pride was born. Not a prayer could’ve saved the victims from my next battle royal. Any attack on me was an attack on those that empowered me. Mercilessly I routed my opposition. Each kill was triumph to their name. The king’s executioner. A guard dog off the leash.
No longer was I trying to repay a debt, but rather I was on the hunt for their glory. Something is unleashed in you when you fight for something greater than you. Your power defending your own honor is miniscule to your power defending other’s.
A giant serpentine was the final obstacle in the way of our victory. While mighty, it knew the extent of its power, resorting to camouflage and trickery as its main tactics. But success built off deception is doomed, destined for defeat, devil’s deed.
–
Utter silence shrouded the arena, as our very presences were carrying out the banter. The presences of the final two contestants. A guaranteed victor, and a guaranteed burial.
Surpassing the final obstacle well before me, he could’ve won the race without battling, but he waited for me. 1.8 million RC to his name. 1.8 million RC invested in Sphinx. No words came from his lips, but his stare told me everything I needed to know. Our motivations were alike. He would die for the legitimacy of his empowerment. This was no longer a battle between men, but the sources of their strength.
–
Operatic it was. Timpani drums laid the tempo of exploding arrows. Cellos hummed the bassline of our pounding shields. Violins played the melody of our swords scraping. Flutes played the harmony of throwing knives whizzing past my face. All accompanying our epic duet. Sung by our battle cries.
A gruesome ballet if you will. Choreographed were our moves. In tandem we danced. Each attack, each dodge, a pose worthy to be framed. Vastly intimate. I felt like I had known him my entire life. Like I was trying to kill off the worst part of myself.
–
“You’re faltering. Open your hand.”
“What is this?!” I questioned frantically, glancing at the syringe suddenly in my palm.
“When we tire, we panic, causing us to forcefully take control of a body that is not our own. This will help you relax and allow your spirit to handle this.”
“I don’t think now is this time for relaxing!”
“Do you trust us or not?”
–
Confused, it was like whatever this was now coursing through my veins had allowed me to open my eyes for the very first time. Everything was in slow motion. My movements were not my own. I was merely a spectator. As I viewed from a third person perspective there was nothing left for me to do but to enter a state of gratitude. Marveling over the glorious work that The Calvary Fund had done.
Embracing the sufficiency, I discarded my sword and shield. Seemingly arrogant, but a humble gesture in actuality. An acceptance of where my victory lied. Trust.
Angrily, pridefully, and foolishly his sword lunged at me, but with a swift block I separated him from his hope. What god can be taken out of your hands so easily?
He was defenseless now. A crippling kick to the knee. Motionless now. Gracefully pivoting around his body in circles, pelting his ribs with blows from my fists and elbows. Face to face now. Vaulting myself into backhand spring kick to his chin. On his last legs now. Somersaulting between his legs, and in a crouched position injecting his spine with an uppercut kick. At my mercy now. His body held off the ground lifelessly only supported by my foot. “AAAUUUGGGHHH.” And with a final slam, I buried him.
–
“You’ve run with purpose and represented The Calvary Fund well. Now you may share in our glory, with your name eternally etched as a victor.”
“By grace I was called, and by grace I have won. Hail to The Calvary Fund forever.”