There was a war beginning down at my old elementary school. This wasn’t a war with guns or bombs but with swords and shields, just like the Roman days. This guy I knew from the school named Mark kept targeting me and eventually he managed to slit my throat. As the blood spurted from my neck I heard someone saying, “I can see your breastbone.”
Somehow I woke up again and now me and the soldiers had to solve puzzles then toss the three-worded answers into a spinning vortex within a large cauldron. I remember seeing the number 27. The “other team” had to do the same. The one with the highest number got more of the favour from the gods, apparently. And we were closely matched.
Mark kept trying to target me but I learned to counter this with more soldiers at my side. He didn’t manage to cut me again.