Spencer’s quick. He drops his mannequin in the far base without stopping, then runs back the way he’d come. He scoops up one of the heavier abandoned victims at the halfway mark, pivots to run it to the other side—

Vaughn shouts for help. Spencer’s victim drops again. He runs to his partner’s aid, grabbing his blade on the way.

Spencer leaps high, sword pulled back for a thrust. On the descent, he sinks his blade deep into one boar’s spine. He yanks it free and jumps back in one motion.

The boar’s guttural scream echoes up the ridge, crosses the field, makes my teeth grind.

Aether steams from its wound and turns to dust, like silver embers over a bonfire. The dying construct drops to its knees. Spencer charges again, this time spearing the beast between the eyes.

As Spencer runs to his partner, the boar melts into a silver puddle, then explodes into a sea of sparkling ashes.

Spencer and Vaughn make quick work of the remaining hellboar. In two minutes, it’s on all four knees, keening pitifully. In unison, the boys spear it through the skull.

Cheers echo down the ridge as they gather the remaining two victims and run them to safety.

A whistle echoes from above. The first team has finished.

“Three minutes!” someone shouts. A warning to the others.

Greer and Carson are almost done. One boar is down. Greer has deposited both mannequins. They draw two daggers as they run back onto the field. Carson’s flail twirls so fast all I can see are the spiked ends of the maces over the top of their final boar’s head.

But Whitty and Blake are struggling. Somewhere between dropping off their first mannequin and their second, Whitty lost a dagger. They’re surrounded, standing back to back. Blake’s staff arcs up. Connects with the boar’s skull. Sends it to its knees. It’s a heavy blow, but not a killing one.

A chilling scream rips through the night, and I search for the source, panic fluttering in my chest. I fear the worst for my friend, but it’s not Greer who’s in trouble.

One of the boars has Carson pinned beneath it. He kicks and punches with all that he has, but his weapon is yards away.

Greer runs, leaps, and hovers in the air. They land on the second boar’s back, spread their arms wide like a bird—and plunge a dagger into each lung. Carson scrambles backward just as the construct explodes and bright dust sprays his face. Some of it lands in his gasping mouth.

When I turn back, Blake and Whitty are just finishing off their second boar.

All three teams bring their final victim to safety. The first round is over.

And we’re up next.

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