The Baron and the Game - Chapter 8

Inside the ship, the Baron watched the platform approaching through the large glass window that offered a view of the outside. He leaned back in his chair, chewing on something that looked like dried meat.

"Ah, so these are this year's chosen ones? Pathetic, as always," he murmured, leaning forward for a closer look.

"Sir, it seems there's something unusual this year. Look, that boy... he doesn't have a wolf," the servant pointed to Tyrin, whose figure stood out at the center of the platform.

"What's he holding? An egg?" the Baron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir. We don't have any information about it. It seems to be something unique, perhaps a personal choice."

"Unique? Hah! Don't make me laugh. These backwater planets always come up with something to grab attention. I bet that egg is worthless," he laughed, but his eyes lingered on Tyrin a moment longer than usual. Something about the boy intrigued him, though he wouldn't admit it.

"Prepare the gamblers. This year will be interesting. Let's see who survives until Destino."

When the platform was finally hoisted into the ship, the sound of the pressure sealing the environment echoed through the compartments. The metallic doors closed with a heavy thud, definitively isolating the youths from Helheim. The floor trembled slightly beneath their feet, as though the ship was adjusting its balance to accommodate the new cargo. Tyrin glanced around, observing what would now be his temporary home—and possibly the site of his first battle for survival.

The corridor ahead was narrow and dimly lit, illuminated only by sporadically flickering fluorescent lights. The worn metal walls told silent stories of past battles; deep scratches, rust stains, and bullet marks formed a kind of war mural. The air was thick, carrying a faint smell of burnt oil and something else Tyrin couldn't identify but that made his stomach churn.

The soldiers guiding them showed no emotion. Tall, gaunt, dressed in faded uniforms, and wearing severe expressions, they seemed more machine than human. One of them raised a hand, signaling it was time to move.

"Welcome to the first stage of your lives as champions. You are now under the custody of the Imperio. Follow instructions without question. Rest while you can." The voice was dry, monotone, as if the man was reciting a memorized speech.

The youths obeyed in silence. The weight of the situation seemed to have finally settled upon them. Some whispered words of encouragement to themselves or to their wolf pups, while others simply walked with vacant expressions, trying to process what lay ahead.

Tyrin, clutching his egg tightly to his chest, felt a mix of emotions. He didn't have a wolf to comfort him, but he also didn't want distractions. The egg was an anomaly, something that set him apart, and he knew it could be both a blessing and a curse. Dante's words echoed in his mind: "Don't waste this chance. Prove your worth."

The youths were led to a large room that seemed to be an improvised dining hall. The tables were long and made of cold, unpainted metal. There was no decoration, except for a few cameras fixed to the walls and pipes releasing steam at regular intervals. The soldiers offered no explanations, only gesturing to indicate where each young person should sit.

Tyrin chose a spot in a secluded corner, keeping the egg close. He watched the others settle their wolf pups into padded crates provided by the soldiers, while he carefully placed the egg beside him. Its presence drew attention, but no one dared to ask about it. The silence in the room was oppressive.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, and a holographic projection appeared in the center of the room. It was the Baron, now wearing his most "formal" attire: a tunic that was too tight for his bulky frame and a poorly adjusted wig. He seemed relaxed, holding a glass of wine.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my ship. Congratulations on being chosen to represent your planets in this great opportunity. Many of you will not return, but for the few who survive, the glory will be immeasurable. You will be remembered as heroes, legends... or, at the very least, interesting corpses."

He let out a shrill laugh that echoed through the room, but no one found it amusing.

"Those wolf pups you carry? They represent your connection to strength and instinct. But remember, nothing will be given freely here. Everything will be earned with blood and sweat. Now, eat, rest, and prepare. The true test begins soon."

With a dramatic gesture, the hologram disappeared, leaving only silence and the sound of tense breathing.

After being taken to their quarters, the youths were instructed to rest and prepare for the next step. Tyrin, however, couldn't relax. Sitting in front of the small window of his cabin, he watched his home, Helheim, shrinking in the distance. The planet, with its vast snowy plains, became a small white orb glowing in the void of space.

"That's why they call it the White Planet," he murmured to himself, impressed by the view.

The nickname fit what he saw; Helheim was an unblemished world, its surface entirely covered by snow and ice. The sight should have been breathtaking, but for Tyrin, it was a melancholy reminder of everything he was leaving behind: his sister, his home, and the last remnants of safety.

As he reflected, a shrill sound interrupted his thoughts. The blaring alarm echoed through the ship's corridors, summoning everyone outside.

"It's time. This has to work," he remembered Dante's warning about the alarm—the one unbreakable rule: always respond to the call.

He quickly grabbed the egg, securing it carefully against his chest, and stepped out of the room. In the corridor, a thin, expressionless man pointed the way, but he didn't bother to check the rooms that remained closed. The urgency was evident, but the crew's silence only heightened the tension.

The path through the ship felt strange, with twisting corridors, corroded structures, and an environment more reminiscent of Helheim's furnaces than the grand technology he expected from a noble's ship.

After nearly an hour of walking, something seemed off.

"This ship isn't that big. Where are we going?" Tyrin thought, unable to hide his unease.

"Wait a little longer, and your questions will be answered when you know how to ask them," the enigmatic response of the man guiding them only deepened his frustration.

""We've been walking for almost an hour in circles. This doesn't make sense!". Tyrin finally blurted out.

The man stopped abruptly, turned, and gave an enigmatic smile. "That was the answer. We've arrived."

A few meters ahead, a metallic door appeared in the corridor, as if it had materialized out of nowhere. Tyrin looked around, confused. The door hadn't been there before. Before he could react, the man vanished without a trace, like a hologram.

"Are you all going to just stand there? Move aside!" A tall, thin boy with curly hair, whom Tyrin vaguely recognized, stepped forward and confidently opened the door.

What they saw on the other side was something none of them were prepared to face.

"What the hell is that?" the boy exclaimed.

Just a few meters away stood a creature that had until then been confined to children's horror stories: a Tyrano, grotesque and terrifying. Its wide jaws, filled with sharp teeth, dripped with viscous saliva, while its bloodshot eyes radiated pure malice.

The boy didn't have time to react. In a movement too fast to follow, the Tyrano attacked. The boy's desperate scream was cut short by the sound of bones crunching as half of his body disappeared into the creature's mouth. The others watched, paralyzed with terror, as the grotesque sound of bones breaking and flesh being devoured filled the air.

"It's... a Tyrano!" someone finally screamed, breaking the silence.

The creature, despite its now-bulging stomach, wasted no time. It was already moving to attack another victim. Tyrin reacted instinctively, moving away from the door and searching for an escape route.

While chaos reigned among the youths, the Baron observed everything from an opulently decorated command room, with tapestries and furniture that contrasted sharply with the ship's grim environment. Reclined in a chair, holding a wine goblet, his eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched the scene projected on a holographic screen.

"Baron, it seems that this year things are... different," one of the officers beside him said in a worried tone.

"Ah, shut up. They'll die anyway, one way or another. I'm just giving their lives meaning. My entertainment. Hahahaha!" the Baron laughed, swirling the goblet in the air.

"I understand, sir. But—"

"I said shut up. Let me enjoy this moment. Call the mothership and tell them we'll open the betting pools. Let's see who kills and who dies. Hahahaha!"

"Understood, sir."

As the officer left to carry out the order, the Baron leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the screen. He watched the youths desperately fight for their lives, his expression a mixture of boredom and sadistic curiosity.

"Excellent. Let's see what this backwater planet is capable of."

Tyrin ran for his life, the sound of bones crunching and muffled screams filling the corridors. Every turn seemed like a trap waiting to ensnare him. He tried to focus, repeating the directions to his room in his mind.

"Three left turns... six right..." he murmured, forcing himself to concentrate as the sounds of death grew closer.

The screams were fading, but not because the danger was gone—the Tyrano's targets were running out. He knew it would eventually come for him.

"What's its weakness again?" he thought desperately, searching his memory.

Suddenly, a clear memory surfaced, vivid as if it were happening right then.

Tyrin had been in a cluttered yet luxurious room. Books were scattered everywhere, tables overloaded with notes and holograms displaying complex data. In front of him stood the scientist Karin, her messy hair and oversized glasses making her look perpetually distracted as she adjusted something on a panel.

"I'm fascinated, you know? I suspected from your background, Tyrin, but seeing it in person—a photographic memory? That's rare even on Alpha planets, and finding someone like you here in this dump... sorry for the language—it's fascinating."

Tyrin looked at her, confused and slightly uncomfortable. Dante, sitting nearby, intervened firmly:

"Dr. Karin, could you focus on something that will help Tyrin survive? I need him alive."

Karin rolled her eyes but smiled. "Of course, Dante. But I must say, this ability will help us greatly."

Dante crossed his arms. "Could you elaborate on that claim?"

Karin sighed and pulled a massive book from a nearby shelf, slamming it onto the table with a thud. "Tyrin, answer me this: what's the characteristic of the Tyrano, Class F42?"

He thought for a moment before responding:

"The Medusa Tyrano F42 is the first known quadruped from the First Era of the Great Invasion. They're slow and dumb but strong and cannibalistic. They kill only to eat, though they get hungry every few hours. Due to the anatomy of their neck muscles, they can't, like pigs, look up."

Karin beamed, clapping her hands. "Bingo. He didn't just read about them—he stored everything in his head. That's beyond rare."

Dante frowned. "I see that he studied the Tyranos, but what does this mean for now?"

"Dante, he has the ability to access critical information in seconds. That's what will save him."

Back in the present, Tyrin stopped in front of his room. He knew he had no choice. Once inside, he left the door open, carefully placing the egg on the floor as bait.

"It finally caught up to me. Alright, Medusa F42... quadruped. Weak point: the single ventilation opening at the nape of its neck. Attack from above is advised," he murmured to himself, summoning his courage.

The Medusa F42 rounded the corridor, its grotesque presence filling the space. It looked larger up close than he'd anticipated, its muscles pulsating and its red eyes glowing with hunger. When it spotted the egg, the creature hesitated for a moment before lunging toward it, driven by a mix of curiosity and instinct.

Without a second thought, Tyrin seized the opportunity. He launched himself onto the creature, driving his arm with all his strength into the opening at its nape. The Tyrano thrashed violently, trying to shake him off, but Tyrin held on tight, using the full weight of his body to maintain the attack.

"It's working... oh, crap... AHHHHH!" he screamed as the creature slammed him against the walls of the room.

The next few minutes were hell. Tyrin's arm was crushed in several places, but he refused to let go. With one final effort, he pushed even deeper, striking the creature's vital point. A sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking echoed through the room, and the Tyrano collapsed lifeless to the floor.

Tyrin fell beside the corpse, panting heavily. His arm was bent at an unnatural angle, but he barely felt the pain. All that mattered was that he was alive... and that he had killed a Tyrano.