《Arena》 The Gymnasium The stench of sweat and blood engulfed the gymnasium as the men were fighting inside the rings. Sniffs and grunts could be heard, accompanied by the sounds of heavy punches. Fighters were throwing and pinning each other. The slamming of their bodies against the canvas booming around the room. Sav watched intently, studying a particular pair of brawlers swinging wildly against one another. The slightly bigger one stepped back to avoid a straight right hand, finding himself trapped in a corner. The other beast seized the moment and ducked low, coming up with a vicious uppercut, breaking the nose of his opponent, a loud crunch and they pushed on. Sav felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. It was Gene, his former coach and the owner of the gymnasium. ¡°Got a minute, Sav?¡± the short, old man asked, puffing on a cigar. His gray hair was slicked back with so much gel; one could use it for a week. He rocked a smile which missed a couple of teeth, a reminder of his younger years. The two savages behind them had stopped their rumbling at the appearance of the older gentleman. The savage with a broken nose was seemingly not bothered by the blood pouring down its mouth. ¡°What¡¯re you looking at girls? Go on!¡± Gene joked and waved a hand at Sav to follow him. They went up a green, rusty set of stairs and into the old fighter¡¯s office. It was not unfamiliar to Sav as he had been there many times, discussing private matters with his former coach or signing contracts for upcoming fights. Something was different this time. Sav could sense it. He could see it in the way old Gene shuffled around before settling. ¡°What¡¯s troubling you, old man?¡± he asked. ¡°My back these days, it¡¯s been killing me...¡± Gene smirked. ¡°Sit down.¡± Sav took a seat on the old chair across from Gene and watched as the old coach sat down, ashing his cigar. ¡°You fighting these days?¡± Gene asked. ¡°Why, what have you heard?¡± ¡°I heard you were in the League, a replacement fighter¡­¡± ¡°Correct, I¡¯m not on the rankings. The pay is good¡­ why bother?¡± ¡°Heh, you don¡¯t think you¡¯d place far?¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s not worth the hassle.¡± ¡°Ah, I see, you think you¡¯re too good for the League. They¡¯re beneath you¡­those amateurs. Is that it?¡± Gene chuckled. ¡°You know the answer to that, old man,¡± Sav answered, shifting in his seat and scanning him. He was beating around the bush. ¡°Is this why you called me up here? To stroke my ego?¡± ¡°Stroke your ego? I speak truth, Sav. You are better than those guys. If only you¡¯d¡ª¡° ¡°If this is another offer¡­¡± ¡°No, no.¡± Gene said, stood up and took a step towards the windows of his office, looking down at the fighting men. ¡°All these guys¡­ they¡¯re never going to become a fraction of the fighter you are ,Sav, and that¡¯s a fact. Hell, some of them would be lucky to even make it to the League.¡± ¡°Why are you telling me this, Gene?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be shutting the gym down next month.¡± The old man turned around. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You saw the men down there, not more than twenty. I got maybe twenty more enlisted and that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°No income.¡± Sav muttered. ¡°I¡¯ve been bled dry. Equipment, coaches, those neuro-stimulants we pump the guys with and the fucking taxes. I can¡¯t catch a break. Since that new governor began serving, more and more suits have been breathing down my neck. With their sleazy smiles and cheap cologne¡­¡± ¡°That Adkins fella?¡± ¡°Yes, that fat fuck! What the hell is a violence tax supposed to mean? This is a sport we¡¯re talking about!¡± Sav glanced at the windows then back at his former coach. ¡°Can¡¯t you expand or something? Start teaching kids¡¯ classes or some shit?¡± ¡°Hell, no! I¡¯d rather burn the place down before turning it into something that it isn¡¯t. You know what we do here better than anybody! This place has history.¡± ¡°What other choice do you have?¡± Sav asked, leaning back on his chair. ¡°I have no choice¡­but I do have a ticket.¡± ¡°A ticket?¡± ¡°Yes, a ticket. To salvation, maybe even more¡­¡± ¡°What¡¯re you talking about, Gene?¡± Sav shook his head. ¡°Just wait here.¡± ¡°Gene, I already told you I¡¯m not fighting for you! We¡¯ve been over ¨C¡° Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Not for me.¡± Gene said, then took off, leaving Sav alone for a moment. Sav stood up and walked to the windows, the training session for the day had ended and everyone was heading out, some to the lockers. Small robots came up from under the rings and began cleaning the gymnasium, spraying the area with some kind of disinfectant while they rolled around on their wheels. Seeing those small bots reminded Sav of his childhood. Robots were nothing new in this world. He was trained by them in the ways of combat, brought up by them. Creations which had been his key to survival growing up in Yuna. While others cowered away at the sight of them, Sav knew they were not to be feared but used. After all, they were created to benefit mankind. There were exceptions, of course. Sav had studied their algorithms, knew when and where they¡¯d move. Robots were not like humans; they relied on data and data alone. No hesitation, no change of heart and most importantly ¨C no fear. That¡¯s why they had become so favored in battle. They did not need to be fed, clothed or paid. They did not need convincing, no lies stringed along to make them fight a war they did not believe in. Superior to humans in most aspects but still created, controlled and designed by mankind. Man was the ultimate ruler until he forgot that he was meant to be just that- man. Three hundred years had passed since the first human hybrid, and nobody today could even remember its name. Why would they? Everyone nowadays had some software placed in them and most were hungry for more. Always some new tool that could make you digest information at godly speeds, message your friends in a blink of an eye, or the latest heart apparatus which could make you live longer! All of it came with a hefty price though and money was the last of it. Sav knew that very well. Loss of identity, impulsive killings, even death. But all of that was swept under the rug. The High State wanted the masses to believe that those errors were just a natural obstacle in the way of the grand evolution of humanity. A sick joke, Sav thought. The young man was no hypocrite. He had gotten some tech over the years, only to aid him in his combat ventures of course. He knew the risks, but it was only fair, he wasn¡¯t about to get killed by some weaklings with money, who thought they could just slap some gear on and walk around like they even grasped what it was to be a fighter. Fighting was all Sav knew. It protected him, ensured his livelihood. It was an irreplaceable part of his identity, which no piece of tech or programming could ever change. The office door creaked open, and Gene walked in, carrying a small card in his right hand. He went back to his desk and sat down. Sav followed. ¡°That¡¯s your ticket?¡± The old coach slid the card to Sav and spoke. ¡°Look at it, it¡¯s no mere ticket.¡± The young fighter took the card in his hand. It was no bigger than his palm. There was a small red button in the center and an inscription above it: H.S. ¡°High State? What does the High State want with you, Gene?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not the only one who¡¯s received this. It came last week¡­I was just about to open the gym when one of the State¡¯s cyborgs stopped me and handed me this thing. They¡¯re looking for fighters and not just from Yuna, but from many other planets as well, from what I¡¯ve heard.¡± ¡°So what? The State¡¯s looking to arrange themselves a circus?¡± ¡°You ought to hear for yourself.¡± Sav hesitated, then put the card on the desk, pressing the red button. There was a short buzzing and then a red hologram appeared. It was the head of a robot with one eye on its forehead and a straight line for a mouth, no ears. A short silence followed before the eye opened, and the robot started its speech. ¡°Greetings, dear listener. This is an automated message from the High State. It is not to be copied, emulated or plagiarized under any circumstances. Failure to comply with the forementioned norms is punishable by law. Thank you.¡± There was another brief pause, and the men looked at each other. Has Gene heard the full message? Sav thought. ¡°The High State prides itself on having the best security system and personnel in the whole galaxy. As you all know our residents¡¯ safety and well-being are among our top priorities. That¡¯s the reason the High State is now officially campaigning to recruit new members for our workforce. You have the golden opportunity of a lifetime to join the ranks of the High State and get the privilege of serving and protecting.¡± ¡°What a load of¡ª¡° ¡°Our dear leader and governor of the High State, Padromo III, is organizing a 100-man fighting tournament to determine who amongst you possesses the skills to serve the High State. Twenty of the very best will be assigned roles in the most prosperous group of security of the High State ¨C EAGLE, and only one man out of 100 will have the honour of being hired as the governor¡¯s personal bodyguard, which also includes receiving a prize of one million zens¡­You may apply at your nearest H.S. committee. The places are limited. Thank you!¡± Once again, a short buzz and the hologram disappeared. ¡°What do you say?¡± Gene asked, failing to contain the excitement in his voice. ¡°Serving the High State? Really, Gene?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you see it¡¯s not about that?¡±, the old man snapped. ¡°This is a golden opportunity but not for the reasons you might think.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°This is an opportunity for you to make a name for yourself. To show those H.S. assholes what a real fighter is. Show them who ¡®The Orphan¡¯ is!¡± Gene half-shouted, standing up again. There was an intense look in Sav¡¯s eyes. He hadn¡¯t heard the nickname for quite a long time, an echo of a painful past. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Gene¡­ I¡¯m pretty content with my life here on Yuna.¡± ¡°Content? Who needs that? We¡¯re fighters, man! Comfort is the dream killer!¡± There were notes of desperation in his tone. Sav chuckled to himself, recalling how often the old man used to say that. ¡°I can¡¯t just jump into this¡­I gotta think about it, nothing is as it seems with the H.S., you know that.¡± ¡°True¡­but it is an opportunity¡­Maybe you can save yourself from this fucking slum planet and have a life. Who cares if it¡¯s under the H.S.? There aren¡¯t many options nowadays¡­¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Sav trailed off. Gene sighed. ¡°Look, just go and sign up at the committee tomorrow morning, there¡¯s no way you won¡¯t place with that record of yours. What¡¯s there left in Yuna for you anyway?¡± Sav thought about his younger brother. Sammy was gone now, two summers had gone by since his death. He was just a kid. Bitterness and grief threatened to swallow Sav up again, but he shook those notions away. Only indifference remained, that was the only way he could shield himself from those thoughts, he had to move on, and he did. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do it¡­ but don¡¯t expect me to share those zens with your old ass,¡± Sav joked. ¡°Well, if it wasn¡¯t for my ass, you¡¯d never know about this thing, I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t forget about old Gene when you make it to the top¡­¡± Gene shot back. ¡°Heh, right¡­¡± It had gotten late. The static of the lights downstairs buzzed in the background. Gene walked towards the office door and grabbed the handle. ¡°I¡¯ve got to close up, don¡¯t want those cyborgs on my door giving me a lecture.¡± The pair walked down the stairs, and Sav waited for Gene to turn the lights off, then they went outside. That familiar cool breeze of the night hugged them both and they stood there, staring at each other. The lines on the forehead of Gene were more noticeable than ever, and his eyes had that tired look to them ¡ª being a fighter most of his life hadn¡¯t helped. Feels like a goodbye. Sav thought. ¡°Will I see you again, Gene?¡± ¡°Make sure you go and sign up tomorrow, eh?¡± ¡°Yeah, I will.¡± Papers The wiry hands of Padromo rustled through another pile of documents. The governor had stayed up all night, going through the files of the approved fighters. The quota had been filled, and he was stamping the last papers of the qualified men. He didn¡¯t have to do any of that, of course. There were a dozen subordinates eligible for the task, but this was no regular matter. Everything had to be the way Padromo envisioned it ¡ª the fighters, the recruitment, the background investigations, and, lastly the transportation of said competitors. Only the gathering of the hundred men remained now, and their transfer to Kybernan Magnus¡ª planet of the High State. Exciting times were upon them. Padromo had prepared a folder for the dossiers of the fighters and, in a swift motion put them all inside it. He stood up from his steel chair and stretched, sighing in satisfaction. There was a knock on his door, and he stilled, leisurely resuming his seat and putting his hands on the desk. ¡°Come in,¡± Padromo ordered. A young cyborg slid the door open and entered the governor¡¯s headquarters. He was no more than 25 standard years old. Wearing a not- so- well-fitted suit and a haircut which failed to complement his oval-shaped face. ¡°Governor Padromo, sir!¡± the young worker greeted. Padromo couldn¡¯t tell if he was enthusiastic or nervous¡ª didn¡¯t care either way. He had a meeting scheduled with his daughter in half an hour or so and he was impatient to leave the building. ¡°Speak.¡± Padromo sighed and inhaled through the valve installed in his throat. He had a neck fully constructed from metal. Obtained it after an accident many years ago, long before being chosen as governor. ¡°I¡¯ve been sent to collect the files of the contestants for the upcoming tournament, sir. Hope I¡¯m not intruding,¡± the cyborg added apologetically. Padromo shot him a cold look. ¡°Would I have ordered you to come in here if I didn¡¯t wish to be intruded upon?¡± ¡°No, sir¡­¡± The young worker froze. ¡°Take a seat.¡± There was a deep silence, except for the almost mechanical breathing of the governor. It sounded like steam blowing off from some old machinery, and the cyborg made an effort not to pay attention to it, looking around instead. Padromo took a thick pen and signed the big folder, just beneath the H.S. inscription. Then, he handed it to the worker. Glances were exchanged. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± ¡°You new around here?¡± Padromo asked. ¡°Ah, yes, sir. I started last week; couldn¡¯t even believe I landed a position in the governor¡¯s own administration facility.¡± ¡°You couldn¡¯t believe it?¡± The governor smirked. ¡°Well, of course, I know some people that would do anything to be here, serving you.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Padromo demanded. For the first time since walking into the office, the cyborg really looked into the governor¡¯s eyes. Those emotionless pits. ¡°My name¡¯s Anton, sir,¡± Anton answered. ¡°Hm, well, first of all, Anton, you didn¡¯t land a position in here. You were chosen to serve here by our recruitment team. Accidents aren¡¯t a thing in my facility, unless you¡¯re implying otherwise.¡± ¡°Sir, I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡° ¡°Second of all, people don¡¯t just serve me in here; they serve me everywhere! This whole galaxy is under my rule if you hadn¡¯t noticed. Refrain from such slip-ups next time.¡± Anton was at a loss for words. The conversation had taken a sharp turn, and he didn¡¯t dare to speak. ¡°And lastly, let me give you some advice. Since you¡¯re new and you just landed this position¡­you ought to learn to contain your emotions when you¡¯re in my workforce. It¡¯s unprofessional¡­ and rather childish, and I¡¯m sure you don¡¯t want your new colleagues thinking that of you, do you?¡± ¡°No, sir! Of course not!¡± Anton replied hurriedly. ¡°Very well.¡± Padromo tapped the folder in front of the cyborg. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed.¡± Anton took the folder under his arm and stood up, bowing his head to Governor Padromo before turning to leave. ¡°Oh, and one more thing.¡± Padromo stopped him. ¡°Yes, sir?¡± There was the tiniest tremble in his voice. ¡°Tell Stacy to arrange me a car, will you?¡± ¡°Right away, sir,¡± Anton said and left. Has potential, that one, Padromo thought. He got up from his seat and went to the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, he was met by a mature but strong face¡ªthe effect of the countless pills he had been taking not visible at all. Thank God. He began unbuttoning his shirt until the last link was undone, exposing a chest and abdomen riddled with scars, and another valve there instead of a belly button. Padromo palmed the metallic tap and twisted three times, then he breathed in and out. One more twist and he began buttoning his shirt back up. He ruffled whatever hair he had left on top of his head, returned to his quarters and got his coat from the chair. It was time to leave. Padromo locked his door behind him and made the walk through the corridor of the floor, passing by the other offices in his section. Every worker would bow their head or look the other way when he was nearby, most out of fear for their jobs and some out of respect. Padromo wasn¡¯t sure which he preferred better. He made it to the elevators and got in, pressing to go to the first floor of the facility. The landing doors slid open, and he stepped out, heading for reception. An attractive older woman was working there. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°Has the car arrived, Stacy?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. They¡¯re expecting you outside.¡± Padromo strolled outside and was greeted by two security guards, both over two meters in height and pure muscle. They weren¡¯t Kybernan Magnus natives by the looks of it, but they managed to blend in well. ¡°Sir,¡± one of them greeted him and opened the car door for Padromo to get in. He sat in the back seat, and the pair sat in front. ¡°I assume you gentlemen have already been briefed about the destination?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± They replied in unison. No one uttered a word for the remainder of the drive. The capital of Kybernan Magnus was beautiful during that time of day and Padromo stared outside, admiring the complex infrastructure. It was his doing after all, most of it anyway. When he first began to rule, the city looked closer to a dystopian nightmare than a capital. With the strict laws and reparations set by Padromo III, that was bound to change, and it did. Sure, half of the population had been forced to work for zero pay for months, but in the grand scheme of things, that was for the greater good. They should¡¯ve been thanking me! Padromo reminisced, proud. There weren¡¯t many options when he inherited the seat. He had been gifted a capital city on the decline and knew what course of action was to be taken. The man would never allow himself to be a slave to somebody¡¯s approval. He did what he thought was necessary and he did it with a heavy hand. The car stopped in front of a luxury establishment, and the guardian in the passenger seat got out, opening the door for Padromo. The governor stepped outside and patted the brute¡¯s shoulder. There stood a young woman, waiting for him at the entrance. Her blonde bangs covered her eyes. She wore official attire and appeared to be rather short¡ª something the governor was not. ¡°Governor Padromo!¡± She exclaimed. ¡°Spare your father the formalities.¡± They embraced after. It had been some time since the man last saw his daughter and he was excited, although hiding it well. Few things brought him genuine joy these days, and she was one of them. He held the hug unusually long before letting go. It was uncharacteristic of him, and it didn¡¯t go unnoticed by his daughter. ¡°Shall we go inside?¡± she asked. ¡°Please, after you, dear.¡± Padromo signaled to the security, ordering them to wait outside and stay alert. They entered the building and were greeted by a robot host. The machine wore a red hat that read ¡®Ruby¡¯s¡¯. It turned towards them and chirped. ¡°Hello and welcome to Ruby¡¯s! The establishment that¡¯s been wining and dining you with the utmost care for twenty years! Do you have a reservation with us today?¡± The woman stepped forward. ¡°Yes, Allani Julius.¡± ¡°Ah, Miss Julius! Your table is ready. Number 7 in the outer section, as you¡¯ve requested.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± They went outside and Allani immediately saw their table, her father following closely behind. The duo took their seats and ordered a drink each, using the interactive menus mounted in front of them. Their table was overlooking a great view of the south district of the city and the rich rays of the morning sun enhanced the atmosphere. Nothing was coincidental about this meeting. Allani knew that her father was almost always in good spirits in the mornings, so that¡¯s why she had chosen to meet him early in the day. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve come here.¡± Padromo began. ¡°Yeah, we always used to come here when I was little, me and you.¡± Allani replied. ¡°How¡¯s the company doing?¡± ¡°Really, Dad? It hasn¡¯t even been five minutes since we sat down and you¡¯re already asking me about my business.¡± ¡°What? I¡¯m proud of you. I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re doing well.¡± ¡°I am¡­ The company¡¯s income has increased, and I assembled a new marketing team recently. Things are moving forward; the laborers¡¯ feedback is positive. I can¡¯t complain, really.¡± ¡°That¡¯s excellent!¡± Padromo said, impressed by his daughter¡¯s progress. ¡°Thank you. The PCA has been giving me some trouble with our new collection, but I know how to handle them.¡± ¡°The Association? Want me to take care of it?¡± the governor asked while their drinks were being served by another bot. ¡°No! I get enough shit for being the governor¡¯s daughter as it is, don¡¯t need another addition to the list.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± They sipped on their drinks. The governor had lost the ability to swallow so the liquid was technically pouring down his throat. He was thankful for his tastebuds. Silence ensued for a moment and the pair studied each other. They could both glimpse into the past in the face of one another. Times were different when her father wasn¡¯t ruling, Allani thought. He was different. Allani reminisced about the days when she and her brother and Padromo would spend time together. Their shared moments and laughter remained buried deep in the woman¡¯s memory. ¡°Any news about my brother?¡± Allani asked. ¡°He¡¯s serving his sentence,¡± Padromo replied, coldness in his voice. ¡°Look, I know you and he didn¡¯t get along very well, especially before his deportation, but I still worry about him.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a capable man, I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll manage to take care of himself. Let us not concern ourselves with your brother until he has returned, hm?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I just miss him.¡± ¡°That¡¯s understandable.¡± Allani took a big gulp and then ordered herself a second drink. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about the tournament you¡¯re putting together. When were you intending to tell me?¡± ¡°Ah, don¡¯t do that, daughter. I just didn¡¯t have the chance¡­.¡± ¡°Well, you do now!¡± Allani poked. ¡°The project is almost finished. My staff took the time to find the best fighters in the entire galaxy. A hundred men, not a small number. All that remains is shoving them into one of the State¡¯s spaceships and dropping them off here in the capital. It sounds simple enough, but it¡¯s a complicated task, believe it or not. It will take some time, but the hard work is done.¡± ¡°What about the bodyguard thing?¡± ¡°You needn¡¯t worry yourself with that.¡± ¡°I want to know!¡± Allani demanded. This was about her father¡¯s security. ¡°What¡¯s there to know? The very best one amongst them will be assigned the role of being my right hand. Simple as that.¡± ¡°And you had to search the whole galaxy? I¡¯m sure Kybernan has plenty of capable men for the job! What about EAGLE?¡± Allani couldn¡¯t help but get anxious, it was a serious matter. ¡°Are you doubting your father¡¯s judgment?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not doubting you! It¡¯s just¡­ what if that one guy turns out to be a murderous maniac? There¡¯s a huge possibility! This is not a dancing contest you¡¯ve organized!¡± ¡°While that is true, even if the prospect turns out to be a maniac, his skills won¡¯t be denied. And most importantly I won¡¯t have doubts about his allegiance or suspicion of ulterior motives. Everything else that may come with it, I¡¯m ready to handle.¡± Padromo finished. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you!¡± The governor was just about to answer when his phone beeped once. He took it out of the pants pocket and looked at his daughter. ¡°I¡¯m afraid we must call an end to our little date, Allani. Duty calls!¡± ¡°What? We just sat down!¡± ¡°You''re right, but this is urgent, it can¡¯t be put off.¡± Allani knew that she wouldn¡¯t be seeing her father again soon. It was a miracle they had managed to come here at all. What was she to do? ¡°Whatever¡­¡± Allani rolled her eyes. Padromo rose from his seat and straightened up, smiling at his daughter. ¡°I¡¯ll make it up to you, I promise.¡± He waved goodbye and left her alone at the table. As he walked outside, he was greeted by one of his guards, while the other was waiting in front of the car. They hit the road again, and only then did the governor return the call. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m on my way¡­ Well, tell his cheap ass he must wait a little. Make him a coffee or something!¡± He signaled for the driver to hurry up. ¡°Good! Oh, and connect me to the PCA while you¡¯re at it, will you? I¡¯d like to have a word¡­¡± Call before the Storm Physical fitness was essential in becoming a great fighter. Some would say that mental fortitude beat all, but Sav couldn¡¯t quite agree. Of course, one had to be prepared to face whatever challenges a brawl might present, yet Sav regarded the whole mental strength thing as preposterous. He believed in honing the body, pushing the limits of what the flesh was capable of. In his eyes, if you were able to extract yourself from the fight and experience it from a spectator¡¯s perspective, you were already on the path to winning. That wasn¡¯t about toughness; it was about understanding the opponent, and most importantly, yourself. After all, what was the point of being psychologically indestructible if your body couldn¡¯t endure a blow? Maybe the concepts went hand in hand; Sav wasn¡¯t sure. There was one thing he had mastered though¡ªthe art of preparation. When that initial adrenaline wore off in a fight, it all laid back upon your preparation. Those extra reps you put in, the punishment you conditioned your muscles to live through, and as Sav was nearing his fiftieth lap of the gravel road surrounding the old lake, he thought about just that. The young man¡¯s mindset was instilled into him from his early fighting days. If the opponent gets out of bed at 5 a.m. to train, you do at 4! If he does a hundred reps, you double them! If he practices a four-punch combination, you make it five and execute it flawlessly! Sav stopped running and stood still, taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate down. The old lake was his favourite spot for jogging, and ever since the High State had bought it out nobody else dared to come. It wasn¡¯t an issue for Sav; all he had to do was throw a fresh pack of cigarettes and a few zens through the tiny window of the greybeard¡¯s cabin, and he would look the other way. After he had calmed his breathing down, Sav got into his fighting stance, keeping his feet apart and bending his knees. His right hand was draped over his eye and elbow tucked, the left hand was sticking forward, chin tucked behind his shoulder. He visualised an opponent, a head taller than himself, holding an opposite stance. He took a step towards him and struck a jab right into his belly, retreating immediately after, with his hands held high. Every little maneuver had purpose behind it; nothing was thrown just for the sake of it. No place for error. Sav started off with a straight again, rolling and pivoting to his left whilst landing a right to the body. If you landed two consecutive attacks, the adversary felt compelled to return a shot, and that¡¯s when he was most vulnerable, Sav had been taught. Use it against him. The young fighter shelled up and shifted back, just in time to evade a heavy overhand right, the opponent had exposed himself, and Sav used the window to counter with a flying knee, shattering his jaw and knocking him out. Then, he got out of range, resuming his stance. ¡°Hey, boy!¡± someone rasped. Sav glanced back; it was the man from the cabin. ¡°They¡¯re here for a routine checkup; you better get out of here!¡± ¡°Oh, thanks,¡± Sav nodded. He knew of a narrow passage hidden between some bushy trees, so he hit the trail. Navigating his way through the long branches of ancient beech, he found himself alongside an old scrapyard. The workers there used to dump any unneeded parts into the lake, so maybe the involvement of the High State wasn¡¯t so bad after all. If only they showed any concern for the citizens as well, but no. They had rolled in and taken over the government, put their own delegates in charge, and forgotten about Yuna. Surprisingly, the High State wasn¡¯t to be blamed for the condition of the planet; things had always been rough. Sav had heard once from some old timers that it used to be even worse. Think this is bad? You should¡¯ve seen this shit fifty years ago! Hell, I think it was even more fucked up! This¡­is paradise compared to those days! And for some reason, he didn¡¯t doubt it for a second. Yuna was considerably smaller than the other planets in the galaxy. It had withstood many wars; came out unscathed from the Great Harb. An interplanetary conflict between nations that had taken place many millennia ago. Long before the High State had been formed. Kybernan Magnus and Yuna had been allies then, truly different times. Once inhabited by fierce guerrilla combatants, the planet had now faded in discussions of military power. The economy played a huge role in sustaining it and Yuna had nothing to offer. Foreign trade policy was non-existent, but not due to neglect by the congressmen; it just didn¡¯t have much to offer in terms of raw materials. The planet consisted of two regions¡ªInner and Outer. The inner region was where most of the population had been crammed. Cities upon tiny cities, built around recycling factories of the High State. Every other month, huge shipments of damaged or unserviceable vehicles, such as spaceships, would be dropped off for disassembling, then recycled for goods. During those first weeks, when the workload was the heaviest, the toxic fumes released from the cooling towers would contaminate the atmosphere. It was gruesome, rough, a reality people had to live in. Sav didn¡¯t know much about the Outer Region; he¡¯d heard of nomadic tribes residing in the outskirts of the planet. There weren¡¯t any actual cities or even villages established out there. Miles and miles of rock and coarse terrain until one couldn¡¯t travel any more. Legends were told that the members of those tribes weren¡¯t human or robots, but something else completely. Creatures who didn¡¯t need food or water to live! True rulers of the outskirts¡­! Sav reached a small, weakened fountain and leaned down to rinse his face, the smell of the horrid air hitting his nostrils already. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Sav continued down a main road. Old women with scarves wrapped around their necks scurried around, some chasing after their kids and others leaning against the porches of tiny houses. As he progressed, the residences got better and better, which meant there was a factory nearby. The fighter was about to make a left, when out of nowhere, a young kid jumped in front of him, dressed in old drapes and holding an improvised knife, pointed at Sav. ¡°Empty your pockets!¡± The kid shouted. Sav landed a heavy slap on his wrist and grabbed him by the collar. ¡°Better luck next time.¡± Sav pushed him aside and went back on his way. Entering a narrow street which led to a secluded square area, hidden by long concrete walls on each side. Hot lines of the sun shone down on the houses, built upon one another, thick construction of metal boards separating them. Sav approached the first row on his right and began climbing up a ladder, stopping on the fourth house, if a one-room storage could be called that. He searched his pockets for a key, then unlocked the door, going inside. The place was humble, even by Yuna standards. The bedroom, kitchen, and living room were mixed into one; bathroom was separate. Sav put the keys inside a flowerless vase on his table and stood in front of the kitchenette. Opening the fridge, he took three eggs and cracked them into a bowl, stirring them up with a fork. He got a notification on his phone and picked it up. It was from the High State (H.S). It read: ¡°Greetings, Mr. Orbona! The High State is pleased to inform you that you¡¯ve been qualified to compete in our 100-man tournament, which will take place in Kybernan Magnus. The High State has officially sent out a spaceship to finalize your transfer. You¡¯ll be picked up at midnight at the coordinates you¡¯ve received. It is advised that you adhere to our arrival time. Thank you!¡± ¡°Shit¡­¡± Sav held his head. He hurried to the bathroom and kneeled to open the cupboard under the sink, bringing out a black, shiny box. He unlatched it and took a small piece of metal out, resembling a razor blade. He laid his arm over the sink and turned on the water. Holding the metal piece between his thumb and index finger, he cut a straight line over his wrist and hissed. Crimson droplets pooled along the ridge and blood trickled down the ceramic bowl. The incision had to be deeper, so Sav went over it one more time carving a rivulet of red flooding his palm. The fighter shook his arm around twice to relax it, then began inserting the metal piece into the slit he¡¯d made. He grunted heavily as more blood gushed out and the piece pierced its way under his skin, pulsing before settling on a spot. He took a deep breath and stretched his fingers, then made a fist and squeezed as hard as he could, grimacing. His wrist gleamed blue as he watched the small wound heal, leaving no trace. Sav walked over to his bed and grabbed a sack left next to it. He searched around for items that could be of use for the upcoming transfer. It didn¡¯t take him long to collect everything he needed ¡ª syringes and needles, a few kinds of stimulants and pills, a Bowie knife, rubber bands, pocket watch, a belt, a stack of cards, and a book Gene had gifted him. Once he had everything, he dropped the bag close to the door and gave it a little kick, all set. He then went back to preparing his eggs. All the final arrangements had been settled. Sav was sitting in front of his house with the sack in his hand. He¡¯d informed the head manager of the League that he wouldn¡¯t be available for a while and stashed all the zens laying around in a secret spot. He¡¯d ordered an air-cab, and while he was waiting, he thought about his life in Yuna. Most of his life had been spent training, fighting for survival in and out of the ring. The discipline he had built during countless sessions had guided him through every hardship he had suffered, and he was thankful that fate had introduced him to fighting. He heard the whirring of the air-taxi¡¯s rotors and threw his bag over his shoulder, climbing down the ladder. He watched how the cab landed and waited until it was safe before hopping in. ¡°Good evening!¡± a burly man with a purple mustache greeted him. ¡°Hello,¡± Sav returned. ¡°Where to, young man?¡± the vehicle was lifting off the ground. ¡°To the old stadium.¡± ¡°Right on! Could you buckle your seatbelt ?¡± Sav complied and watched as they ascended higher and higher until his home was just a dot among the many others in town. They flew over the poorer districts and into the better ones, you could tell by the gradual change of color. Then they passed the gray factories that had turned the place into a bigger wasteland, and finally, out of the city. Sav didn¡¯t look back¡­ The fighter paid the driver and jumped out of the cab, hearing the droning fade further into the distance with each passing second. He was all alone in the vast green landscape, except for a goat that was grazing in the distance¡­ It was almost time. The message had said midnight. A gigantic, triangular shadow swallowed the entire stadium and Sav had to cover his ears against the deafening noise. A spaceship hovered above him, its three rotors attached to each corner, emitting powerful, neon blue lights while they spun at full speed. The aircraft was dark, devoid of any color, except the huge white lettering on one of its sides¡ª STORM. As it neared the surface, the sheer power of the engine drowned out Sav¡¯s thoughts with its relentless whirring. STORM executed a smooth landing, though the rotors never fully stopped. A hatch on the central part of the ship slid open, and a ramp extended, lodging itself in the dirt. Two officers walked out, spotted Sav and waved him over. One carried a firearm, while the other held a pad in his hand. Both wore vests which had ¡®EAGLE¡¯ embroidered on them. They were forced to shout. ¡°Sav Orbona?¡± ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± Sav replied. ¡°We¡¯ll take care of that!¡± One of them motioned toward Sav¡¯s bag, and he handed it over. ¡°Welcome aboard, chump!¡± The officers led Sav inside, giving him a hard push, the ramp retracted, and the hatch sealed shut behind them. Cobwebs of Despair Wine glasses clinked together after yet another toast. It was a beautiful night, a night of business and of pleasure. Padromo understood that those two didn¡¯t mix well, but sacrifices had to be made. That¡¯s what great leaders did in his eyes. Well, at least that¡¯s what had to be done when you wanted your cash cows to be satisfied. He had gathered all the current sponsors of the tournament, along with their acquaintances, in the penthouse of Hotel Trident. The governor had rented out the place for a measly amount of zens, and looking around, he remembered what his advisors had told him: that this was an opportunity to network and attract even more financial support for his project. As if half of the room wasn¡¯t on the State¡¯s payroll. A potbellied man sat next to Padromo. He was stuffing his face with seafood. It was impossible to ignore his loud chewing and gulping; he had even burped once or twice. He licked his fingers. ¡°Mm, the food is great, Padromo! Real tasty stuff, I¡¯m telling ya¡¯!¡± He addressed the governor. ¡°I¡¯m glad it¡¯s to your liking,¡± Padromo replied. His plate remained full. ¡°This tournament¡­ it¡¯s gon¡¯ be great, Padromo! You¡­ you¡¯ve done great things for Kybernan, truly great!¡± the fat man began. ¡°I appreciate your support, Dasim.¡± Padromo thanked him, sipping from his glass. ¡°How¡¯d ya¡¯ manage to find that many fighters?¡± ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t entirely my doing. My elite recruitment team did most of the work¡­I just pointed them in the right direction.¡± ¡°Ahh, you¡¯re too humble! It was your idea, that¡¯s not an easy task, not easy, no!¡± ¡°I guess so.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard that the tournament has attracted a lot of eyes, Padromo, a lot! That¡¯s good right? We want all the attention we can get, right?¡± Dasim asked and grabbed a large piece of corn. The chatter of the guests was constant, and the robot waiters kept leaving and returning to the dining hall with trays of freshly poured wine and appetizers. The banquet table was laden with various dishes, exotic fruit, many kinds of beverages, expensive champagne¡ªeven cigars were available. ¡°Certainly, even planets which aren¡¯t under the State¡¯s jurisdiction have shown interest. After all, it¡¯s one of the oldest forms of entertainment.¡± ¡°Entertainment, yes! It¡¯s going to be entertaining, for sure!¡± Dasim roared as he was munching away on the food. In all honesty, Padromo couldn¡¯t stand the blob of a man. Everything he did was sloppy, no manners at all. It was in no way how a businessman was supposed to conduct himself. The man had money though and that couldn¡¯t be debated. He was one of the bigger supporters of the tournament and had invested a hefty amount in the realization of Padromo¡¯s project. Dasim only had one condition¡ªhe had requested that his son be drafted among the hundred men who would compete in the tournament. The governor hadn¡¯t objected to the idea and had taken the necessary measures to bring it to fruition. One couldn¡¯t actualize such a big event without doing some favours. Padromo, of course, couldn¡¯t say no to one of the biggest alcohol tycoons in the galaxy. The son in question was in the dining hall with them, sitting at the opposite end of the table. He had two cyborg mistresses coiled around each arm, while he was conversing with the other guests. Word had gone around that Dasim¡¯s son was to participate in the upcoming tournament, and naturally he had attracted a lot of attention. There was a rumor involving the use of heavy steroids, and if one observed the son closely, he could see that it was clearly no rumor. The guy was even fatter than his father, a known side effect of a certain type of steroids that were imported from Planet-67. ¡°Have you talked to my son yet?¡± Dasim asked. ¡°No, didn¡¯t have the opportunity,¡± Padromo said. ¡°Butch! Hey, Butch!¡± The fat man shouted, calling his son over. He had yelled so loudly that the chatter in the room ceased for a moment. His son pushed the women caressing him aside and stood up, taking his chair with him. Butch was the tallest and heaviest person in the room. A giant of a man. He had a big, shiny bald head and a thick, meaty neck to support it. The resemblance to his father was uncanny; they both wore the exact same bulldog expression. He placed his chair between his father and the governor, then plopped down, sighing. He reeked of alcohol. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°What?¡± He nodded towards his father. Dasim slapped the back of his head. ¡°What do you mean ¡®what¡¯, ya¡¯ mutt? Introduce yourself to the governor and quit fucking embarrassing me!¡± Dasim spoke through gritted teeth, spit flying out everywhere. ¡°Oh, Mr. Padromo! I¡¯m¡ª" He received a second slap. ¡°Governor!¡± Dasim corrected. ¡°Governor Padromo¡­ I¡¯m Butch. It¡¯s nice to meet you. The food here is bangin¡¯. I¡¯m impressed! Oh, and don¡¯t worry about the tournament, I¡¯m going to crush all those guys!¡± ¡°Why the fuck would he be worried about that?¡± His father shouted. ¡°Padromo, I apologize, the boy is just¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, Dasim, please. There¡¯s nothing to apologize for, your son¡¯s probably excited to compete.¡± ¡°Yes, excited! He¡¯s very excited¡­and thankful! Thank you, Padromo.¡± Dasim elbowed his son. ¡°Thank you for the opportunity, Governor!¡± Butch repeated. ¡°It¡¯s my pleasure.¡± Padromo smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t let my son¡¯s looks fool you, Padromo. He¡¯s a strong one, Butch. He¡¯s been wrestling ever since he was a little kid. He even lifted an elephant over his head one time! Crazy strong, I tell ya¡¯!¡± ¡°Impressive.¡± ¡°Tell him, son.¡± ¡°It¡¯s true¡­I did it¡­ wasn¡¯t too hard. Can I go now?¡± Butch asked. ¡°Why must you embarrass me like this?¡± Dasim struck the table with his fists, spilling some wine. ¡°Dasim, it¡¯s fine! Let the boy enjoy himself!¡± ¡°Thank you, Padromo. You get outta here, Butch!¡± Dasim pulled his son close. ¡°And get rid of those fucking whores before I go over there and make a scene!¡± The father turned back to Padromo. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What can I say? He¡¯s a good kid, just needs some polishing.¡± ¡°Do not worry yourself, Dasim. We were all young once.¡± ¡°Right, we were!¡± ¡°Excuse me,¡± Padromo said, leaving his seat and hurrying to the bathroom. He couldn¡¯t breathe. He rushed into one of the stalls and found himself down on his knees, searching through his clothes for the valve on his stomach, beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead. He grabbed the metal cork and began twisting. How cruel it would be if he died right there in the bathroom, without living to see the project he had worked so hard to create. Little gulps of oxygen found their way into his system. Padromo exhaled, and his muscles convulsed, nearly making him hit his head on the toilet bowl. Somebody knocked on the door and he kicked, went back to twisting. The governor was panicking, he was about to die¡­ Back at the dining hall, some of the guests had started leaving, not staying around to say goodbye. Butch and his father had disappeared also, it was well past midnight. The waiters were throwing away the leftovers and cleaning the stains. Padromo woke up with a loud gasp, holding his chest. He lay there, face-first on the bathroom floor, slowly coming to his senses. The governor tried to sit up at first, but his hand slipped, he cursed, took a few breaths and tried again. Once he managed to sit up and collect himself, he was out of there in an instant. He splashed some water on his face and made his way to the dining hall. All heads turned towards him when he entered, Padromo saw a glass of champagne in front of him and took it, lifting it in the air. He cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯d like to say a few words.¡± Padromo waited until he had everybody¡¯s attention. ¡°First and foremost, I¡¯d like to thank every single one of you for honouring this event and coming here tonight. To our sponsors and future sponsors, thank you also. The tournament is now a fact, and it wouldn¡¯t have been possible without your support and the tireless efforts of the High State. We have an exciting few months ahead of us, and I¡¯m absolutely ecstatic to be in one room with people whom I share the same vision and ambition for growth with. To Kybernan Magnus!¡± ¡°To Kybernan Magnus!¡± The little audience toasted, and they all drank. There was admiration on all their faces, they truly regarded Padromo as their leader, and the governor took full advantage of their blind loyalty. The little circus he had arranged with their hard-earned money wasn¡¯t set up to fortify the planet¡¯s security. They already possessed the best men in the galaxy, yet he had carefully tailored the illusion that the State was in dire need of new additions to its arsenal. The truth was that Padromo was afraid. Afraid that his son would try and take over his position. That fear had led him to send his own child to Nexum-0, where he was serving a sentence for conspiring against the government. Padromo¡¯s time would soon be up, and he had had to devise a plan. The tournament was his final product. The governor resumed his seat as if nothing had happened, and the festivities continued until early morning. Drunken stories and half-truths were shared throughout the night. Even Padromo had permitted himself to talk about some of his earlier days. He had personally accompanied every guest to the exit of the penthouse and dismissed all the personnel. He was sitting alone at the table, plotting. His breathing levels had evened out. It was a close call, Padromo thought. His phone rang, and he grabbed it, not answering immediately. He went out to the terrace, leaned on the railing, then picked up. ¡°This call is from a person currently in Medusa in Nexum-0. All calls are logged and recorded and may be listened to by a member of Medusa staff. If you do not wish to accept this call, please hang up now.¡± Padromo waited¡­ ¡°Hello, father. I just thought I¡¯d let you know that I¡¯ll be getting out soon¡ª¡± The governor hung up, then snapped the phone in half. Worlds Unknown Sav stood on a platform with two guards standing over his shoulders, watching the crowd of people move around as if they were an ant colony. He could distinguish the guards from the others by their armor and the rifles hanging by their sides. There were also plenty of non-human individuals, some of whom Sav had never seen¡ª intriguing future opponents. Sav felt the tip of a gun poking him and he hurried forward, noticing countless corridors that probably led to other parts of the ship. They walked past small groups of people who, by the looks of it, had formed recently but the young fighter paid them no mind. He was shoved into a small storage unit with old, dusty boxes scattered around. The guards instructed him to stay inside, and the door closed. The place was cold and dark, and it smelled of freshly opened books. Sav examined the area for any doors or cracks in case he needed to escape, making his way through the old cartons. After failing to find anything, he sat on top of one of the larger boxes. A small, milky-white creature with pointy ears walked into the unit, carrying a folder. ¡°Hey, excuse me, sir! You¡¯re not allowed to be there! Could you please come down here?¡± it asked. Sav jumped down, nodding. ¡°What¡¯s your name, sir?¡± the little gremlin asked, looking at Sav from inside huge, shiny orbs. ¡°Sav Orbona.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Tabby! I¡¯m in charge of assigning the fighters to their cells. I¡¯m also obligated to tell you that each one of those cells accommodates five people. You won¡¯t be alone.¡± ¡°So, what you¡¯re trying to tell me is that the ship is basically a fancy prison?¡± Sav joked. ¡°I can understand why you¡¯d see it that way, but it¡¯s just a safety measure. You¡¯ll be free to roam around whenever you please.¡± Tabby explained. ¡°Okay.¡± Tabby took out a tiny gun from his back pocket and pointed it at Sav, lifting it in the air with three fingers. ¡°I must scan you for any hidden weapons. Do you object?¡± ¡°Wait, are you about to shoot me?¡± ¡°Well, technically, yes. You won¡¯t feel any pain, though.¡± ¡°Sure¡­ what if I say no?¡± ¡°Are you objecting?¡± ¡°Just go ahead¡­¡± Sav sighed. Tabby aimed at Sav¡¯s head with the blue gun, then pulled the trigger. No sound was heard, it flashed red repeatedly, and both stared at each other. ¡°All clear,¡± Tabby said. ¡°That was it?¡± ¡°Yes, just like I told you. No pain.¡± Sav was impressed. He imagined what the procedure would¡¯ve looked like if it had been done on Yuna. They probably would¡¯ve made him strip naked. ¡°Oh, by the way, Yuna was our last stop before heading back to Kybernan. The trip is estimated to last six days. I thought I¡¯d let you know.¡± ¡°Six days?¡± Sav repeated. ¡°Yes, that shouldn¡¯t worry you. As you¡¯ve probably already noticed, the aircraft holds the size of a small city. We have a canteen, a big training facility, showers¡­ you name it!¡± ¡°I see, and where do the High State¡¯s people reside?¡± ¡°Oh, we have our own compartment.¡± ¡°As expected,¡± Sav mused. Tabby opened his folder and began searching for Sav¡¯s file. A long signature was scribbled on the cover. It didn¡¯t take long for him to find it. A picture of the young fighter was glued to it. The sides of his head were shaven clean, but he had great volume on top. His chocolate brown hair stood slicked back, and his smoky green eyes stared back at Tabby. ¡°Is it true that you guys in Yuna don¡¯t have running water?¡± the white creature asked. ¡°What? No! We¡¯re not that poor,¡± Sav replied. ¡°You hold an impressive fighting record. Fifty-one wins and only one loss. It¡¯s a rare thing to see¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re damn right it is.¡± Tabby handed Sav¡¯s file to him. ¡°Could you sign this, please?¡± Sav grabbed the pen and scribbled on the paper, he couldn¡¯t even remember when that picture was taken. He gave the file back. Tabby thanked him, then left. The guards who had put Sav in the room returned, barking commands at the young fighter. Leaving the room, they strolled through the main area. Rows of blinking lights adorned the steel walls around them. Emulating the inside of some matrix, which in all fairness, described the current situation perfectly. Stairs leading up to another platform revealed themselves as they continued with their walk. It must¡¯ve been the pilot cabin, since it was so heavily guarded, Sav told himself. He felt yet another hit of cold steel on his back and fought the urge to retaliate. The pair of soldiers pressed him through a red doorway and into a large section of cells. They resembled little matchboxes stacked against one another, better suited for rats than for humans. Sav was led into the cell Tabby had assigned him, and the heavy metal door clinked shut behind him. Sav examined the room, there were five wooden planks for beds, propped up on cones. Four of them were already occupied by his cellmates. He met their glances and went for the bed at the back of the room, sitting down without saying a word. After a brief moment, one of the cellmates broke the silence. ¡°Well, since everybody¡¯s here now, I say we introduce ourselves to each other. I¡¯ll start.¡± He was a blind cyborg, with a black cloth wrapped around his eyes. He spoke with a lisp, slurring some of his words and taking deep breaths between sentences. ¡°My name is Yuri. I come from Nexum-0, and I¡¯m set to compete in the tournament¡­ well, as you all are. You might be asking yourselves¡ªhow is this blind fool going to fight? He took a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s quite simple, really. I lost my vision many years ago in a freak accident¡­ I was devastated, trust me.¡± Another pause. ¡°But having lost my vision, my remaining senses sharpened, and I was able to use them like never before. One thing led to another and here I am, sitting in this cell with you guys¡ªon our way to kill each other like some animals!¡± Yuri inhaled shakily; he seemed to be distraught all of a sudden. ¡°If it wasn¡¯t for my wife and kids back home, I never would¡¯ve accepted to be a part of this¡­ this cruel joke!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ everyone has their sob story.¡± A voice interrupted Yuri before he could continue. It came from Sav¡¯s left. It belonged to a man with skin tough as rocks¡ª his long limbs were uneven and blotchy in their length. ¡°Name¡¯s Jared, I¡¯m from Oculus. I don¡¯t have a story to tell, I¡¯m here for those zens and nothing more. I just hope you all get eliminated before you have to face me, because believe me, it¡¯s going to get ugly, heh, .¡± After Jared stopped talking, all heads turned toward Sav for no particular reason. ¡°Name¡¯s Sav. I¡¯m from Yuna¡­ that¡¯s all you need to know.¡± ¡°Well, okay, Sav from Yuna! I¡¯m Manny!¡± Another voice appeared, thin and childlike. Sav acknowledged the creature which had introduced itself. It looked exactly like Tabby¡ª the one who had scanned him with the gun minutes ago. ¡°I¡¯m from Xal¡¯ Zhaen and¡ª¡± ¡°Do you know Tabby?¡± Sav interrupted. ¡°Yes, he¡¯s my older brother. Ugh, I can¡¯t stand that prick! Has everybody here met him?¡± Manny shook his head, his brows would have furrowed, if he had any. ¡°He chose to serve the High State. Seems to have forgotten what those scum have done to our people¡­¡± ¡°And how is a creature of your size supposed to compete against us?¡± Jared asked, sneering with pride. Manny faced him and grinned, showing off huge, razor-sharp teeth, then he lifted his hands up¡ª six fingers in total, equipped with black, monstrous claws. ¡°That answer your question?¡± There remained only one man who hadn¡¯t introduced himself. He sat with his head down and spoke without looking at any of them. ¡°I¡¯m from Kybernan Magnus. You needn¡¯t know my name. I departed from the planet a long time ago, refused to serve the High State. They¡¯ve somehow managed to reach me¡­ gave me no choice but to go back.¡± His knuckles were white from squeezing. ¡°We shall call you the Mystery Man, then!¡± Manny chirped. ¡°Suit yourselves¡­¡± ¡°Six days in this shithole with you guys¡­ can¡¯t say that I¡¯m excited!¡± Jared complained and tossed around on his bed. Sav lay down, staring at the ceiling and going over the events and conversations of the day¡ª it was only the beginning. They all fell asleep shortly after. Day 1 Sav had woken up early, unable to sleep. He found his way back to the main compartment of the ship and wandered around the spacious area. The State¡¯s servants were running around with sheets of documents in their hands, bumping rudely into the outsiders and scolding them for staying in their way. The little authority they had over the fighters had clearly given them a false sense of supremacy, and it was evident in their ill-mannered actions. Sav explored his way to the canteen Tabby had mentioned to him the previous day. Lighted only by two old lamps, the place emitted dark energy¡ª the atrocious-looking food not making it any better. The young fighter went over to the displayed dishes on the buffet, and the feeling of disgust heightened with each meal he saw. He was relieved to stumble upon a tray of fruit and settled for a banana. A round froglike creature had seen the hesitation in Sav¡¯s movements and muttered under its nose. ¡°Humans and their snobbish taste¡­¡± Sav glanced at the yellow frog and headed back to the main compartment. He noticed men and women clad in white aprons, with various high-tech apparatuses in their possession. Medical staff, Sav thought. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He continued towards a small gateway, with a barbell painted vertically on its right side. Sav walked down the path which led to the training facility, and it curved left, then into a sharp right. It mimicked the movements of a snake in its construction. Entering the training grounds, Sav was met with a sense of familiarity. The place was similar to Gene¡¯s gymnasium back at Yuna, although three times as big. Sav chose a heavy bag and stood in front of it, ignoring the others and getting in stance. He took a breath; feinted low a couple of times, then came up with a high kick¡ª snap! The force of the kick colliding with the leather ripped the bag in half, and sand poured down onto the floor. Sav quickly realized the risks hidden in practicing his shots in the facility. He was surrounded by possible future opponents with their eyes set on him. The young fighter turned around on his heels and calmly left. Back at the cell compartment an alarm had gone off, and Sav made it just in time to witness what was happening. A soldier of the High State lay dead in a pool of blood. Two men were fighting. All the fighters had stepped out of their cells, watching the sudden brawl. Some were even cheering them on. The incident carried an almost prophetic aura, and Sav was aware of it. He hurried to a safe spot and joined the spectators. The men stood ready to pounce on each other once more, both heavily bruised and bloodied. The shorter of the two dived for the legs of his opponent, aiming to take him down. The taller man managed to prevail and wrapped his arms around his attacker, squeezing hard. He lifted him in the air and slammed his head into the steel floor with all his might. The shorter fighter didn¡¯t move after that. The victor looked around in a frenzy and roared at the top of his lungs right before a bullet pierced his skull, putting him down¡­ Day 2 As a result of the brawl, the High State had tightened the security measures, and the fighters were prohibited from leaving their cells for the day. It was deadly quiet in the compartment, and everyone was forced to bond with their cellmates in one way or another. Tensions were high as food and drink were also kept from the fighters. ¡°¡­ I mean really, why do we have to suffer just because two idiots decided to go at it?¡± Jared complained. The news had hit them early in the morning, and naturally, arguments ensued. Manny¡¯s stomach rumbled. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not happy either, but you ought to stop whining like a baby!¡± The little gremlin of a thing shouted. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s easy for you to say! You¡¯d probably get full just from one apple! We grown men need real food¡­ ¡° Jared shot back. ¡°I¡¯ll show you a grown man!¡± Manny stood up and headed towards the rock-skinned man. The Mystery Man stepped in between them with his arms held apart. ¡°Stop it! You want those High State fuckers to barge in here and shoot us too? Sit down, both of you!¡± Sav was sitting on his bed and watching the whole scene unfold in front of him. They were too emotional, he told himself. He had been taught to control his emotions and impulses while in a fight. There was a common misconception about said control. Most associated the word with the act of shutting the emotions off completely, but the key was in channeling those emotions out from the spiritual world into the physical. That way, if you were really hurt, you could use the feelings of uncertainty and the desire to respond immediately, thus molding them into a lethal counterattack. ¡°¡­ Maybe he knows¡­¡± Yuri said. ¡°Sav!¡± Manny called out. ¡°Hm? What?¡± Sav had been too busy with his inner monologue to follow their conversation. ¡°Do you think they¡¯re gonna keep us locked up for more than a day?¡± ¡°Eh, probably not. I was expecting something like this, but¡­ they acted quicker than I thought. They¡¯re just warning us to not repeat what those guys did back out there¡­¡± Sav answered. ¡°Right, so what do we do?¡± Jared asked. ¡°Nothing, we just wait for the day to pass¡­¡± Sav replied. ¡°I agree,¡± Yuri added from the opposite end of the cell. ¡°Somebody should tell a story or something!¡± Manny exclaimed. Everyone glanced at him with disapproval. ¡°What? How else are we supposed to pass time?¡± ¡°Ahh, alright, I¡¯ll bite!¡± Jared said. ¡°Let me tell you about that one time I mugged a hooker for her three hundred zens¡­¡± Day 3-4 198¡­199¡­200¡­ Sav finished his push-ups and sat down, alone in the cell. The others had left for the training facility, and he took the opportunity to do a short workout by himself. Next, he hit the showers and found himself in the main compartment after that. His eyes fell on the stairway he had seen on the day of his arrival. It led to the pilot cabin, which for some strange reason wasn¡¯t surrounded by guards like it usually had been. A uniformed man walked out of the cabin, and Sav rushed towards him, purposely tripping on his way up and bumping into him. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going, man!¡± The pilot spat out. He had a youthful face, uncommon for his line of work. ¡°Oh, sorry! I didn¡¯t see you.¡± Sav lied. ¡°You didn¡¯t see me? What¡¯re you doing walking up here anyway?¡± The pilot asked. ¡°Oh, I must¡¯ve gotten confused. Are you a pilot?¡± ¡°I am. Why do you ask?¡± ¡°I was wondering how many days we have left until we arrive at Kybernan?¡± ¡°Two more days¡­ I just wish we could¡¯ve stayed longer at Yuna.¡± ¡°Why?¡± Sav asked. ¡°It¡¯s my home planet.¡± The pilot explained. ¡°How could you work for these assholes after what they¡¯ve done to our planet?¡± Sav pressed. ¡°And who exactly do you think you are to judge me?¡± The young pilot huffed. ¡°Acting like you didn¡¯t get on this ship for a chance to join the ranks.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not the same!¡± Sav fumed, stepping closer to the pilot. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not?¡± He chuckled. ¡°And what¡¯s the difference exactly? ¡­ I guess we all have our price at the end of the day¡­ Now get out of my way before someone sees you¡­¡± Sav stood alone on the stairs and watched as the man disappeared down the corridor leading to the canteen. He continued up the stairs and looked around before entering the cockpit. Before him stood two of the pilots, who were occupied with operating the large spaceship. There were three seats in the room and one of them was empty, adjacent to the man Sav had been talking to seconds ago. He stood by the wall and eavesdropped on their conversation. They were discussing the tournament. ¡°¡­ Yeah, I¡¯ve heard about that too. Are you sure that it¡¯s true though?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say for certain, but my source works in one of the governor¡¯s facilities. There must be some truth to it¡­¡± ¡°Wow, those guys might really be allowed to kill each other then¡­¡± Sav was about to step closer to the pilots when the door next to him opened and one of the EAGLE agents walked in. The young fighter held his breath and waited patiently for him to approach them before slipping out of the room, unnoticed. Sav took off down the stairs and headed back to the cell compartment, he¡¯d had enough adventures for the day. Returning to the cell, he found all the other fighters in a heated debate. He slammed the door with all his might and stopped in the middle of the room. Everyone fell silent. ¡°I just learned that killing will be allowed in the tournament,¡± Sav revealed. Just as the group was about to speak, someone kicked in the door and two guards stepped in with their guns held high. ¡°We¡¯re looking for Yuri,¡± they barked. ¡°That would be me,¡± Yuri said. ¡°What¡¯s the reason?¡± ¡°We got a report that you¡¯ve stolen something from the training facility, and you¡¯re coming with us. Now!¡± The guard shouted, aiming at the blind cyborg and motioning towards the exit. ¡°Steal? He¡¯s blind for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Jared called out. ¡°I haven¡¯t stolen anything!¡± Yuri protested, not leaving his seat. ¡°Look, asshole! You either get your ass outta here, or we¡¯ll drag you out of this cell ourselves!¡± The agent threatened. ¡°I ain¡¯t going anywhere!¡± Yuri shouted. Everything unfolded instantaneously, but in Sav¡¯s eyes, their movements had passed in slow motion. One of the agents tried to grab Yuri¡¯s leg while the other had already gotten a hold of his shoulders. Yuri caught the man closer to him by the collar and pulled him down towards himself, knocking the guy to the ground. The blind cyborg struck him with his head, and before the other soldier could react, he had already bitten his carotid artery, killing him on the spot. The remaining guard cried out in deep anger and made bullets rain down on Yuri, emptying the whole clip. The alarm went off again. Day 5 The young fighter sat alone in the dark; it had been hours since he had been shoved into a small cell, furnished only with an old table and two chairs. At first, he had tried meditating and succeeded, but as with most things that were not related to fighting, he got bored of it rather quickly. Sav wondered if the other guys were in the same situation. The door flung open and Sav was met by an old, wrinkly face. The old man rocked a uniform similar to the one the young pilot had worn, and he scowled at Sav, resembling some dehydrated camel. The young fighter fought the urge to laugh and watched as he sat down. ¡°I am General Kang, and I shall be addressed as such. I¡¯m the head warden of the ship, and I¡¯ll be asking you some questions about the incident that took place in Cell-35. Am I clear?¡± ¡°Loud and clear, sir,¡± Sav answered. ¡°What can you tell me about Mr. Yuri?¡± ¡°Not much¡­ I met him when I first got on the ship. He told us that he was from Nexum, and didn¡¯t seem too enthusiastic about the trip.¡± ¡°Given the short amount of time you¡¯ve known Mr. Yuri for, would you say that he was an aggressive man?¡± Kang continued, resting his elbows on the table. He had an angry scar going over the bridge of his nose, and his right eye was drooping. ¡°Quite the opposite, he mostly kept to himself.¡± Kang took a deep breath. ¡°What exactly happened in that cell yesterday, Mr. Orbona?¡± ¡°Acting like you don¡¯t have a clue¡­¡± Sav chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Answer my question!¡± The general barked. Sav smirked, enjoying the anger on the old man¡¯s face. ¡°Well, your guys came in, kicked the door open. They wanted to take Yuri with them, accused him of stealing something from the training facility. He denied it, resisted¡­ They got into a scuffle and¡­ you know the rest, general.¡± ¡°You think I don¡¯t know who you are, Orphan?¡± Kang asked, smiling. ¡°You¡¯re free to go.¡± Sav froze when he heard the old general use his nickname. He rose up from his seat and got in Kang¡¯s face, then half-whispered, venom dripping from his voice. ¡°Ah, since you know me so well, you also realize I could kill you before you even make it to that door, right?¡± Fear flashed across the general¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯d advise you against it, if you want to keep your life, that is.¡± Sav shot him a dirty look, then left. Back at Cell-35, the fighters were discussing Yuri¡¯s death. As usual, the conversation had grown into an argument, and from an argument into a straight shouting contest. ¡°No! They weren¡¯t right in killing him!¡± Manny yelled. ¡°I¡¯m not saying they were right! But the guy resisted and killed one of ¡®em first! What the fuck did he expect?¡± Jared replied. Manny stared down, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess that''s fair to say. He mentioned that he had a wife and kids¡­¡± Yuri¡¯s bed stood empty; even the bloodstains had been cleaned. Three deaths had occurred in four days, and Sav was questioning the legitimacy of the whole ordeal. How many more lives were going to be taken until they made it to Kybernan? He went back to his bed and isolated himself from the outer world until it was nighttime, somebody had called out to him a couple of times, but he didn¡¯t bother to acknowledge them. He waited for everyone to pass out and silently left the cell. After much thought, he had decided to track down the guard who had killed Yuri. The fighter went around the entire ship and couldn¡¯t find anything, ending up back in the main area. Just then, he noticed two agents talking to each other, and one of them took off to the compartment of the High State, leaving his partner alone. They had changed shifts. Sav recognized him immediately and hid behind a column, waiting for him to change his position. The guard looked around before heading out to the bathroom, and Sav followed him. He waited until the man started pissing in one of the urinals, then snuck up behind him, sliding his own belt off. Sav wrapped the belt around the guard¡¯s neck in one swift motion and squeezed hard, putting his boot on the man¡¯s back so he couldn¡¯t reach him. The guard gurgled in shock and began struggling against the leather constraint. He tried to claw back at Sav but ended up grabbing air; his face had turned an angry red, and the eyeballs threatened to pop out of their sockets. The man thrashed around, attempting to get his fingers around the belt but Sav tightened it harder. There was no escape. The guard¡¯s arms fell limp at his sides, and Sav let him drop down on the floor, cracking the tiles. Day 6 All the fighters were gathered in the main area. Sav had lost sight of his cellmates and stared ahead as the hatch he had previously entered from slid open. They had landed. Outside on the landing site stood three officers, with a huge pile of bags behind them. Sav soon found himself in one of the High State¡¯s vans, travelling to an apartment complex they had chosen for the fighters. The capital was not like any other city he had seen in his life, and he had been to many places during his active fighting days. They arrived at a gated complex and were granted entry without issue. Sav stepped out of the vehicle without seeing the driver once and entered the tall building he¡¯d been authorized to stay at. The apartment was exceptionally furnished¡ª equipped with everything one could ask for and offering an amazing view of a huge, flowy river. Sav wasn¡¯t surprised, given the fact that he was located in the heart of the High State. He sat down to rest for a while and his phone rang ¡ª another message from the High State. It was labelled ¡®Brackets¡¯. He had already been assigned an opponent, and he tried to imagine what he¡¯d look like based on his name ¡ª Butch-7. Tick-Tock Heavy rain poured down the cracks of an old wooden terrace while two boys stood shielded underneath it. They watched as the drops splashed down at their feet, muddying up their well-worn boots. Rain was a rare occurrence in Yuna, and as it was watering the soil, it proved to be a great form of amusement for the children. They were gnawing on a piece of bread they had just stolen from the local bakery, chewing with open mouths. ¡°Poor bastard didn¡¯t stand a chance, ha-ha!¡± Sav laughed, savoring the taste of the crust he had torn off. ¡°Right, old Haggerty is no match for us with those bad knees of his!¡± Sam exclaimed, proud of completing another one of their little heists. The boys had waited all night for the bakery to open, and when the smell of freshly baked bread hit their nostrils, they¡¯d made their move and were now enjoying the riches of their labor. Sav tossed the last piece to his brother and wiped his hands on his pants, looking around. The rain had simmered down and an almost red sun came up, causing rainbows to adorn the roofs of the houses. Sav wondered if they could find a pot of gold at their ends. Then he glanced back at his little brother. ¡°You done with that?¡± he asked. Sam was three years younger than him and a head shorter, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in heart. ¡°Yeah, why are you always giving me the last piece?¡± Sammy questioned. ¡°Because you gotta grow big, little brother,¡± Sav teased, shoving him lightly. Sam pushed his brother back and found himself on the ground, fighting him off. They were scrambling for a dominant position, rolling around in the mud as if they were a pair of piglets having the time of their lives. Sav trapped his brother between his legs, and they broke off in sudden laughter, shaking their heads. He helped Sammy to his feet and they noticed that it had gotten strangely quiet. The rain had come to an end. Wandering around the unforgiving streets of the city with their muddy clothes, the boys were searching for their next victim. They weren¡¯t at the age where they could earn a living through honest work nor in a position of privilege to choose. They were simply surviving how they knew best. The brothers had never known their parents. They were left in a foster home as babies and looked after by the people who worked there. Their rebellious nature had been evident even in that frail age and as they grew up, the scuffles with the other kids also grew, all of it boiling into them being kicked out of the home when they were deemed fit to take care of themselves, forever the outsiders. Sav pulled his brother behind a thick pillar and pointed at a small house nearby. The owner was leaving and had forgotten to close his window¡ª a perfect opportunity for the boys to strike. They waited until the area was clear and tiptoed towards the empty building. Sam jumped inside first and signaled to his brother to follow him. The brothers rummaged through everything they could get their hands on¡ªtables and couches. They checked under the vases, rugs, even behind the pictures the owner of the house had hung up on the walls. They were about to move into the bedroom when the door slid open, and the owner walked in. Sav managed to roll behind the couch and hide, but Sam couldn¡¯t register what had happened in time, facing the man in the center of the room. ¡°What the hell are you doing in my house?¡± the man shouted, stepping closer to Sam. ¡°Me? What¡¯re you doing here?¡± Sam joked. The owner stopped for a second as if he was really considering his question, then grabbed him by the shirt, dirtying his hands. In the meantime, Sav had snuck his way around the couch and grabbed a nightlamp. He stood behind the man and watched as he picked up Sammy off the ground, then he smashed the lamp upside his head before he could slap his brother. The man fell on the wooden floor with a loud thump, and the boys began searching him for his keys and wallet, wasting no time. Running off to the streets, they erupted with laughter, looking for a place to hide and see what they had acquired. They hid in a dark alley between two abandoned buildings and split the profits: a few hundred zens and some old coupons. ¡°Thanks for saving me out there, Sav,¡± Sam said. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Sav replied and ruffled his brother¡¯s hair. ¡°We should get out of here.¡± They were about to walk out of the alley when they noticed a tall figure blocking their way. Had the owner followed them? He began closing in on the boys and they had nowhere to run, trapped against a wall. Sav told his brother to get behind him, then he lifted his hands in the air, ready to fight off the stranger. Sam peeped from his brother¡¯s back, trying to figure out who the man was. When he got to a distance where they could see him clearly, the brothers noticed the man had bright green eyes, shining on them with great intensity. He looked at Sam hiding behind his brother, then at Sav. The man wore a beige suit with torn-off sleeves and an obsidian black hat. ¡°Hello!¡± he greeted them. ¡°We¡¯re not giving you anything!¡± Sav shouted, scanning for a weak spot to attack. ¡°You misunderstand me,¡± the man said. ¡°I¡¯m here to offer you help, if you need it.¡± ¡°Help? Why would you help us?¡± ¡°Because I¡¯ve been in the situation you are,¡± he answered. ¡°I¡¯m Joan.¡± ¡°I¡¯m Sav. This here is my little brother Sammy,¡± Sav said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know Haggerty, would you?¡± Joan asked, failing to hide his smirk. ¡°What if we did?¡± Sav pressed, letting his guard down. The man didn¡¯t seem like a threat. ¡°I¡¯d say good job, but the old man¡¯s an easy target. You need better competition,¡± Joan replied. ¡°So, you¡¯re stealing too?¡± Sammy asked, now standing beside his brother. ¡°Something like that, and I don¡¯t do it alone.¡± Joan said. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bunch of guys with me, from smugglers to fighters. We could show you how to earn some real money.¡± ¡°Yeah? What¡¯s the catch?¡± Sav asked. People around the city rarely helped each other without an ulterior motive being involved. For all he knew, this could be a scheme to get them to do someone¡¯s dirty work, or even worse. ¡°There¡¯s no catch. I only have one condition.¡± ¡°And what would that be?¡± ¡°You stop living on the streets and come stay with me.¡± Joan said. ¡°You¡¯ll get shelter, food. I¡¯m going to put some new clothes on your backs, then we get to work.¡± Sav was about to answer when his brother pulled him aside, a worried look on his face. ¡°Sav, we¡¯ve got to think about this. What if the guy is some weirdo?¡± he asked. Sav glanced at Joan, then back at his brother. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to take the risk. He seems sincere enough.¡± Sam didn¡¯t think for too long. ¡°Fine.¡± They approached Joan, standing side by side. ¡°We accept.¡± ¡°Excellent. Now follow me.¡± The brothers were walking towards a field close to the borders of the city, treading their way through a sandy road. Specks of dust fluttered around with each heavy step. They¡¯d grown older now, the soft, childlike features long gone, like the wind in the night. They had joined Joan¡¯s gang on that fateful day and time had passed by them as if they were actors critiquing their own short film. Sav had proven to be a beyond capable fighter, whereas Sammy had made a name for himself in the smuggling world. Neither of them had chosen an easy life, and as they grew, the differences between them became more and more apparent. Despite the difficulties, they had always managed to reach common ground, their brotherly bond prevailing over any circumstances. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Stopping in the middle of the field, they began warming up, facing each other. Sav had convinced Sammy to come train with him, although he knew his little brother didn¡¯t share the same passion. Sav stood on one leg and grabbed the other one, leaning over to touch his toes. ¡°I never understood how you could do that,¡± Sam said, groaning and almost falling over in his attempt to replicate the movement. ¡°Some things just come naturally. I haven¡¯t really given it much thought.¡± Sav replied, then switched to another exercise. ¡°You were always a talented fighter, even before this whole thing with Joan¡­¡± ¡°How¡¯s business?¡± Sav asked. ¡°Eh, it could be better. The pipeline from 67 has dried up. We do whatever we can to get our hands on the new stuff. The involvement of those High State fuckers doesn¡¯t help either. They¡¯re just a big pain in my ass.¡± Sam answered, cracking his knuckles. ¡°They¡¯re like a virus, aren¡¯t they?¡± Sav chuckled, getting into stance. They exchanged glances and began circling each other, their hands held high. Sam rushed forward with his lead hand and missed by inches, too late to retract. Sav didn¡¯t waste the opportunity and countered with a straight of his own, smacking his brother. Sammy took a breath, then went for another jab, searching for the body of his older brother. He received a hit and fell down on the dirt. Sav had met him halfway with a left hook over the shoulder. ¡°You okay, Sammy?¡± Sav asked, standing over him. There was no response. He crouched over his brother and shook him around, worry creeping in. Had he hurt him that bad? Sav called out his name again¡ª nothing. He could feel his heartbeat quicken in that deafening silence. ¡°Haha! I got you good, didn¡¯t I?¡± Sam burst out laughing, rolling on the ground. ¡°Oh, you clown!¡± Sav let out a big sigh, punching his brother on the shoulder. He offered him a hand and helped him get up to his feet, both looking into each other¡¯s eyes. Time had stopped around them, and all Sav could hear was the repetitive angry sound of a siren nearby¡­ He woke up staring at the ceiling of the apartment. He was in Kybernan, and his phone was ringing. He blinked twice before reaching for it, then answered even though he didn¡¯t recognize the number. ¡°Yeah?¡± Sav said. A squeaky voice replied. ¡°Sav! It¡¯s Manny! I have a proposition for you!¡± ¡°Manny? How did you find my number?¡± Sav asked, sitting up and rubbing his face. It was dark outside and the countless lights of the skyscrapers around him split the night in half. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s not important. Listen, there¡¯s a party going on downtown in some fancy club, and I¡¯ve heard that some very important people are going to be there. I think we should go, me and you.¡± ¡°It hasn¡¯t been a day since we¡¯ve arrived, and you already want to mingle with those folks?¡± Sav asked, shaking his head. ¡°Well, yeah? Meet me in front of the complex in five. I¡¯ll be waiting!¡± Manny said then hung up before Sav could decline. The busy streets of the capital were crowded with people and Sav and Manny struggled to make their way through the herd. Sav had improvised with his clothing and tried to appear as classy as his wardrobe allowed him, regretting not bringing more clothes with him. They saw a big golden sign that read ¡°The Goblet¡±. Two henchmen stood in front of the club¡¯s entrance, and the duo approached them warily. ¡°Do you have a reservation?¡± They asked in unison. ¡°I don¡¯t think we need one,¡± Manny replied and tried to squeeze past them, only to be stopped by the meaty hand of one of the guards. ¡°We can¡¯t let you in without a reservation,¡± he grumbled. Manny stomped his foot on the ground and bared his teeth, keen on going inside. ¡°Quit fucking around, alright? I¡¯d know if reservations were required. Do I look like a fool to you?¡± ¡°Sir, we¡¯re going to have to ask you to leave the premises,¡± the other guard chimed in. ¡°We¡¯re with her actually,¡± Sav said, pointing to a woman who was surrounded by a small crowd of people near the entrance. Everybody had focused their attention on her, and she spoke with a certain sense of authority. The young fighter had a feeling she was someone important and hoped she wouldn¡¯t notice the delay in their entrance. The guards looked at each other cautiously, then back at the fighter and his short friend. They nodded towards them and stepped aside, letting them inside of the building. The fighters brushed past the blonde woman, and the loud music blasting from the speakers hit their senses like a tsunami of melodies and rhythmic beats. The floor carried a misty atmosphere due to the sheer amount of smoke circulating around, and the unmistakable smell of opioids hung heavily in the air. Manny leaped towards Sav to talk into his ear. ¡°How do you know her?¡± the short creature asked. ¡°I don¡¯t!¡± Sav shrugged in response. They found themselves at the bar, and Manny began ordering before Sav could sit down, choosing the most exotic sounding beverages the place had to offer. The white creature struck up a conversation with the bartender, and soon they engaged in a passionate discussion. Sav could tell by the way they gesticulated with their hands. The young fighter took the cocktail Manny had handed to him and downed it in one gulp, chewing the orange leaf that had been on top of the glass. It tasted citrusy. Sav studied the people dancing all around him, swaying their bodies left and right, oblivious to the current melody. He felt the world spin around him, and he saw their shadows separating from their bodies, dancing in their own fashion, looming over their owners¡¯ heads. That drink, Sav thought. He left Manny at the bar and headed towards the bathroom, maneuvering through the colorful shapes the people had turned into after the drink. Along the way he felt a tug on the back of his shirt and let himself be pulled into a different room, stocked with bottles of alcohol. The figure pushed him against the wall, and he felt a knife against his ribs. It belonged to the woman they had seen at the entrance. ¡°Who are you?¡± she demanded, glaring at Sav with angry eyes. ¡°Nobody important.¡± He knew that she wasn¡¯t a threat, yet he had the feeling that the woman could be reckless enough to slash him right there. She pressed the knife against him. ¡°You claim to know me. What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked. ¡°Sav. And you¡¯re holding the knife the wrong way,¡± he answered. The woman glanced down to check and realized he had lied to her. A few seconds was all Sav needed. He struck her wrist before she could look back at him, causing her to drop the knife. ¡°Stop!¡± Sav warned her and blocked the exit, putting distance between himself and the woman. She hurried to grab a bottle of alcohol and faced Sav, ready to strike. ¡°Yeah? Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got!¡± ¡°Hold up, I¡¯m not here to fight you.¡± Sav said, showing her his hands. ¡°You told the security that you were with me. You don¡¯t seem too innocent!¡± She wasn¡¯t letting her guard down. ¡°I must¡¯ve confused you with someone else,¡± Sav lied. ¡°Bullshit! There aren¡¯t many women in this city you could confuse me with, and you¡¯d be wise to know that.¡± ¡°Look, we just wanted to get past the guards, and they wouldn¡¯t let us in. I had to improvise, and I saw you standing there, surrounded by a bunch of people. I figured you were someone important,¡± Sav explained. His hallucinations had died out. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m convinced, but I¡¯ll let you go.¡± ¡°Let me go? I¡¯m the one standing next to the door, if you hadn¡¯t noticed.¡± Sav chuckled. The woman put the bottle back in its place and approached Sav, pushing him aside. ¡°Wait, do I get to know your name?¡± Sav asked. The woman turned around, one foot out the door, and glanced back. ¡°Allani.¡± She rolled her eyes then left. Sav returned to the bar to find Manny resting his head on the counter. He recalled how the creature had kept chugging the drinks they were being served without showing any signs of drunkenness. He had told Sav that their species possessed an incredibly high tolerance to such substances and had continued gulping away, joking around with the other patrons. Sav attempted to shake him awake, but Manny muttered something to himself, then continued his slumber. The young fighter asked the bartender for a glass of water and dumped it all over Manny¡¯s face, making him jump off his seat with his claws outstretched, ready to attack. ¡°Woah, Manny!¡± Sav cautioned. ¡°Sav? What happened?¡± Manny asked. ¡°We have to get going. Party¡¯s over,¡± Sav said, expecting his friend to protest. The short thing stared at him as if he had revealed some dark secret, then headed for the exit. Back outside, they sat on the stairs and watched as guests began leaving one by one. Their first night in Kybernan had been surprisingly uneventful, and Sav wondered if it wasn¡¯t fate playing another one of her cruel jokes on them¡ª letting them succumb to the niceties the city had to offer, only to strike them down with a tragedy the instant they let their guard down. The way Sav avoided such things had always been tied to the absence of any authentic connections or relationships. He strayed away from possible attachments, so when the inevitable hurt presented itself, there would be no one to take the damage but him. The young fighter was at peace with the notion, but looking at Manny, who was in a rough state from all the drinking, he questioned whether one could truly go through this life without having any companions. ¡°You feeling better, champ?¡± Sav joked. ¡°Oh, yeah, I¡¯ll be okay,¡± Manny said, holding his head. ¡°We recover just as quickly as we absorb those drinks.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± The fighter mused. ¡°Have you heard anything about the other guys? From Cell-35, I mean.¡± ¡°No, not really. I haven¡¯t seen them since the ship. I¡¯m just glad we won¡¯t be fighting¡ªme and you.¡± Manny answered. ¡°Yeah, who knows? We might have to, down the line.¡± ¡°I hope not,¡± the little creature exhaled. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright.¡± Sav stood up. ¡°We should probably focus on training though. Not whatever this was¡­¡± ¡°Heh, you¡¯re right.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see you around, Manny.¡± ¡°Yeah. Thanks for coming.¡± Judgment Day The body armor of the three soldiers glistened against the light of the ship¡¯s sensors, exposed under the soft glow of the night. The capital was busy as ever, air and ground traffic joined together in a calculated network of movement. Various towers and glass panel structures had turned the city into the biggest megapolis in the galaxy, a manmade anomaly among the stars. Tyrium¡ªthe empiric city that had been brought back to life by Padromo III. Every aspiring businessman and schemer found themselves in the capital sooner or later. It had been easier getting into the heart of Kybernan Magnus before Padromo¡¯s governorship, thanks to the lack of discipline of the previous rulers. Smuggling operations and breaches of the planet¡¯s orbit were the first cases that the governor had dealt with. Ensuring and at the same time exploiting the safety of his own citizens. Progress cannot exist without sacrifice, he often told himself. The line between morality and his relentless ambition stood thin, and he felt no remorse in overstepping it. The great strategic minds of his bloodline were interlinked, and they grew with each next person in the family. As the governor¡¯s son stood on top of one of his buildings, his mind was occupied with the origin of such mental capacity. He scoffed. The old fool was exceptionally proud of the security system he had invented, going as far as offering it to other planets. Troy had sneaked his way into Kybernan without even a bug being alerted of it, and while waiting for his partners to be dropped off, he truly wondered if his father was just a rich crook, or his mind was naturally sharper in that trajectory of the family¡¯s intellectual capacities. ¡°Troy, we¡¯re ready when you are.¡± The redhead behind him spoke. She was dropped off from a stolen ship along with another man¡ªtwo of Troy¡¯s best. He¡¯d been forming a group of like-minded individuals since his first day on Medusa. After spending two years in prison, he had made a fair amount of connections¡ª his own EAGLE group. They called themselves ¡°The Resistance¡± and their numbers grew with each passing day. Initially, Troy had thought that he could topple his father¡¯s government by himself, but the idea proved to be rather flawed. The man had eyes everywhere. ¡°Alright, put your helmets on.¡± Troy commanded. Their helmets consisted of two orange globes and a thin mouthpiece with a tiny hole in the middle, just enough to breathe. The trio resembled a group of steel-suited flies, now crouching on top of the facility. The redhead who was called Phoebe took a pen out of her back pocket and clicked twice, activating a red beam. She glanced at Troy, nodding before incising a circle on the roof. The smell of melted metal was shielded by their helmets. They stilled in silence. ¡°On three¡­¡± Troy said, holding a stun grenade in his hand. ¡°One¡­ two¡­ three!¡± Phoebe stomped on the circular mark she¡¯d made, exposing the office to the cold of the night. Troy had thrown the grenade along with the falling chunk, and a loud bang followed seconds later. It was time to move. He jumped down first, landing on his feet with his pistol drawn. The workers had stumbled to the ground, covering their eyes and ears, coughing. Most of them wailed in pain. ¡°Hugh, tie them up and put them against the wall. If someone resists, shoot them.¡± Troy spoke through the helmet and helped Phoebe to her feet. They stood on both sides of the door, waiting for any intruders while Hugh was finishing up with the hostages. They certainly hadn¡¯t made that much noise. After Hugh was done, he rushed forward and kicked the door down, scanning the perimeter. There was a long corridor with two offices on each side. Troy signaled with two fingers, and they separated, leaving the office at the end of the passage for last. He entered the room to his left and was met by four workers with their hands held high. One of them rushed towards a red button behind an old prop monitor and was shot in the knee before he could reach it, causing him to collapse to the ground. The others screamed. ¡°Put your hands on your backs and turn around!¡± Troy shouted. ¡°Walk backward to the sound of my voice! Don¡¯t try any funny shit unless you want to end up like your friend over there!¡± He held thick cables in his hand and tied the wrists of the personnel one by one. He kicked them to the ground and put them against the wall before walking over to the crippled man and shooting him in the head. A man could never be too safe. The trio regrouped in front of the fourth office and waited in silence. No movement was detected on their sensors, and they continued towards the elevators. Troy was disappointed. He¡¯d expected more resistance from his father¡¯s people, more heart, even though they were ordinary workers. He itched with excitement at the notion of facing off with Padromo¡¯s so proclaimed prestigious security group. Eagles? More like pigeons, he thought. ¡°Okay, here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do.¡± Troy began. ¡°You two are going to take the elevators and go down to the first floor. Then, you¡¯re going to use the microchips I gave you to shut them down. Once you¡¯re there, I want you to take as many hostages as you can. Find something to seal the entrance with¡­ Oh, and show no mercy to the brave ones.¡± ¡°But how are you going to get down?¡± Phoebe asked, stepping closer to him. ¡°I¡¯ll use one of those big ropes.¡± ¡°Why are we shutting the elevators down?¡± Hugh asked. ¡°The building has no stairs and when we take over the first room, we¡¯ll have them trapped right in the middle. Like a bunch of rats! I can¡¯t believe the governor hasn¡¯t considered such a scenario,¡± Troy answered, tying the thick rope around himself. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Hugh and Phoebe got in the elevators, separating, and Troy was now alone on the highest floor of the facility. He could¡¯ve gone down to the first floor with his team and completed the operation in the fastest way possible, but he wanted to leave a message. Let his father know that this time he would not allow himself to be sidelined or shunned. Troy¡¯s wish was to show him that he would go after him relentlessly and wouldn¡¯t stop until one of them was in the grave. He wanted his father to know fear, and after tonight, he was sure the old man would. Troy had secured the rope to a thick pole in the empty office and slid it through the doorway, closing the door so it would be trapped against the corner. He stood at the back of the room where the elevators were and rushed towards the large windows, jumping and breaking through them feet first. He flew down the skyscraper and flipped midair before breaking through another window panel, landing inside the middle section of the building. A million tiny shards of glass flooded the luxurious carpets of the floor, and the workers rushed to their feet, running to the elevators. Troy was once again faster than them and shot two men down on the spot before they could press the buttons. He knew very well that the elevators were no longer functioning, but he had to show his father¡¯s people that there was no room for disobedience with him. ¡°Everybody down on the ground, now!¡± He shouted. ¡°Put your hands behind your back where I can see them!¡± Troy walked around with the rope following him as if it were a live snake pet, scanning the workers for any hidden weapons. After all of them were lying on the ground, Troy began killing them one by one, a bullet for each. He could hear the trembling in their voices as they cried out in panic, knowing they were next in line. In other circumstances, he would¡¯ve tied them up and let them live, but as he was gunning them down, he didn¡¯t take them for human beings. They were simply pawns who had supported the machine which had cost him two years of his life, and they needed to be dealt with. When he made it to the last remaining person, he crouched down. He was a young, sickly-looking man and his tears had formed a tiny pond on the carpet. Troy grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to look at him, forcing the tip of his gun into his mouth. The man cried out. ¡°You listen to me, and you listen to me well. I want you to convey a message to your little saviors when they eventually come around.¡± Troy began, smirking as he watched the man struggle to breathe. ¡°You tell them that Troy has arrived and he¡¯s here to stay for good this time.¡± Back on the first floor, Phoebe and Hugh had gathered the hostages into one of the storage rooms and had found two boards to seal the main entrance with. They waited until Troy made his way back to them and proceeded to drill it shut. The three of them took their positions, hiding in different spots. ¡°They¡¯ve probably heard all the noise by now. Should I call Jakobi?¡± Hugh asked. ¡°No, not yet. We¡¯re going to wipe out the first squad, then you¡¯ll give him the signal,¡± Troy answered, reloading his gun. He carried a Beretta 93R with all the available modifications in the galaxy, which made it a trusted friend in combat. ¡°Let¡¯s crush those posers, boys!¡± Phoebe added from behind a pillar. They waited in silence with their weapons ready. The sensors in their helmets had detected the movement of the squad a block away, and they knew exactly when they¡¯d bust through the door. Three crosshairs stood pointed, anticipating their arrival. Troy and Hugh switched positions. ¡°They¡¯re here,¡± Troy whispered. ¡°Activate your filters.¡± Loud strikes followed. The EAGLE squad was hitting the door with what sounded like a big metal hammer, systematic in their approach. Boom¡­ Boom¡­ Boom¡­ And on the fourth strike, the main door crumbled, pieces of glass and metal flew around. The trio stood hidden, because they knew stun grenades would follow, and soon enough the place was swallowed in a white mist. Two rows of soldiers began penetrating the area in a formation resembling ants, unbeknownst to the flytrap they were walking into. The trio waited patiently until the squad passed them and was left with their backs exposed. They were not affected by the grenade thanks to their filters and could see the Eagles clearly as day. How easy, Troy thought, and then he ordered his comrades to shoot. The Eagles were too late to turn around and were shot dead before they had the chance to retaliate, bodies piling up in a bloody stew. ¡°Troy, there are three more squads nearby and an aircraft shielding them. We should get out of here!¡± Phoebe warned, then put a bullet in one of the dead men¡ªa message. ¡°Yeah, call Jakobi up and get me a hostage from that storage room. Now!¡± Troy was getting out of there one way or the other. He¡¯d come prepared this time. Hugh brought a young woman out of the storage with her hands tied behind her back, shoving her forward. She had a terrified look on her face, and the dampness of her tears had ruined her makeup. Troy approached her. ¡°Look, nothing¡¯s going to happen to you if you oblige. Just don¡¯t try anything if you don¡¯t want me to shoot you,¡± he said. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s move out! I want eyes on both perimeters, I¡¯ll lead. We leave with the hostage.¡± The four of them walked out on the street and were met by what looked like at least three troops and a large battle aircraft hovering above them. They held their fire at the sight of the young woman, tightly gripped by Troy. Their helmets kept their identity hidden, and they faced off with the High State¡¯s soldiers like the ancient Spartans. ¡°Let the hostage go and drop your weapons! This is an order!¡± One of the Eagles shouted. ¡°We will do no such thing!¡± Troy roared. ¡°A ship will arrive to pick us up and we¡¯ll take the woman with us. If you interfere, she will die,¡± he felt their hesitation. ¡°Oh, and if you¡¯re thinking about taking the risk, I¡¯d like to also let you know that if we don¡¯t walk out of here alive, all the hostages back in there will be blown to pieces. I have the detonator here in my pocket.¡± Troy knew his bluff would hold. The soldiers took a collective step back, opening space for The Resistance. They could hear the whirring of the spaceship they had stolen descend toward them with its hatch already open. Troy let Hugh and Phoebe jump in first, then he began walking backward with the hostage, not letting the High State out of his sight. He kept his weapon pointed at them until they were unreachable, high in the air. Troy freed the woman out of his grasp and shot her in the back of the head, watching as she fell toward the earth. No witnesses. The hatch closed. Arena ¡°Of course, they fucking lied to you!¡± Padromo raged, throwing whatever items he could grab lying around on his desk. He¡¯d already shattered two porcelain cups and the sheets of documents he¡¯d hurled away pooled next to his feet. His breathing was rapid, overlapping some of his words. ¡°Sir, we couldn¡¯t take the risk. They had a hostage with them,¡± one of the soldiers explained. ¡°A hostage? Do you know what happened to her?¡± Padromo stood up. ¡°Her body parts were found scattered all over 4th Avenue!¡± The news of the break-in had hit them early in the morning and the governor had woken up to a very unpleasant day, hurrying to his administration facility. He imagined the outcome of the same situation if it had happened there, and his anger heightened. It showed incompetence and it was a direct insult to his governing capabilities¡ªhis own son¡¯s attack against him. ¡°They threatened to blow the entire place up, if only we knew¡­¡± the soldier continued. ¡°If only you knew! A child would¡¯ve called their bluff! Did you really think they had the time to plant all of those explosives before you made it there?¡± Padromo paced around the room. His tone was getting louder with each step he took. ¡°How many casualties?¡± he asked. ¡°Not too many, sir. They¡¯ve only been to the first and last floor,¡± the soldier paused. ¡°Oh, and the middle section. Everyone in there has been killed except one guy.¡± ¡°Have you figured out why?¡± Padromo asked. ¡°Well, we have actually, sir.¡± ¡°Then spit it out! We¡¯re wasting precious time here!¡± The governor yelled out, pacing faster. ¡°They told him to deliver a message. That¡¯s why they spared his life.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the fucking message and who are ¡°they¡±?¡± His patience was running thin. ¡°They call themselves ¡°The Resistance¡±, but the worker said it was a guy named Troy who told him to deliver the message. According to his words, this Troy guy is here to stay for good. Whatever that means¡­¡± the soldier finished. Padromo¡¯s blood ran cold at the mention of his son¡¯s name. Was it possible that he¡¯d made it out of Nexum-0 that fast? Had he dared to infiltrate one of his father¡¯s facilities right upon arrival? The governor had stopped walking around and almost stuttered in his rushed attempt to reply. ¡°H-have they seen his face? Something to identify him by?¡± ¡°No, sir. There were only three of them and they all wore helmets. I¡¯ve gotten reports back from our voice analyzers and nothing matches. I¡¯m afraid we don¡¯t know who they are yet.¡± ¡°Have there been any other attacks?¡± Padromo asked. ¡°No, sir. We¡¯ve increased the security measures in all the major facilities and ordered more air patrols to roam around the city, as you requested.¡± The poor worker¡¯s eyes were darting all over the room. They had all felt the governor¡¯s fury before. ¡°A second attack must never happen!¡± Padromo said. ¡°I want eyes on every little fucking corner of the city! I don¡¯t care how many men or shifts it takes! You will all work overtime if you goddamn have to!¡± He stomped. ¡°Yes, sir. We¡¯re on it!¡± The soldiers bowed their heads. Padromo dismissed them with a wave of his hand and stood flabbergasted in the middle of the office. His son had made it out of that hellhole after all. Two years had passed by since he¡¯d banished his son from the planet, ordering his transfer to the Medusa. The governor couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around it. How had Troy survived one of the most unjust and violent prisons in the galaxy? He always knew that the boy had skills and inherited his sharp wit, but still, he was never supposed to leave the place alive. Not only that, but the little revolutionary had also managed to form his own group, keen to destroy the governor. Damn fools! Padromo thought. He had expected something of similar nature to occur during his leadership. Padromo wasn¡¯t na?ve. What hurt him most was that the betrayal came from his own blood, his own bones and flesh he had ensured a life to. He knew it was a weakness. As much as he was callous and calculated, he failed to terminate the emotions that took over him at the notion of his son coming for him. Defying his father¡¯s leadership and resolve. A disgrace. He tried to remember their last conversation before his departure. He recalled the day he had found out that Troy was conspiring to take over his father¡¯s position. The boy had gathered all the officials who were against Padromo and got in bed with them behind his back. How stupid I must¡¯ve looked back then! Coiling around with those weasels, my own fucking son! He thought. Their relationship had always been rocky, even when Troy was a kid. His absence due to his duties and the long periods of him not being home, had greatly affected their relationship. And when Troy had reached the age where he was capable of taking care of himself, he lashed out at his father at any given opportunity. Their arguments would grow into dreadful fights, and more often than not they would find themselves resenting each other. The whole Julius family had been concerned about the consequences of such conflict among them, and their advice to Padromo had been to separate himself from his son. Let him mature, then reason with the boy. What a grave mistake that had been, Padromo knew. A bitter taste had formed in Padromo¡¯s mouth and the dialogue with his son opened its way into his mind like pieces of a puzzle settling in place. Bits of conversation and yelled out lines revealed themselves, lighting pathways to older memories that Padromo had fought to erase. ¡°Why¡¯d you summon me? You¡¯re going to bore me with one of those pointless lectures about what it takes to be a leader again, aren¡¯t you?¡± Troy asked, arms crossed on his chest. ¡°Pointless? Have you any idea what it takes to rule over an entire galaxy, you brat?¡± Padromo replied, his forehead vein was pulsating. ¡°Yes, fearmongering and squeezing the foreign funds seems to be working out quite well for you. I¡¯m impressed.¡± ¡°You dare to insult me in my own headquarters? And to think you were supposed to inherit my place!¡± The governor raged, tinkering with the valve in his throat while trying to regain his composure. ¡°Supposed to?¡± Troy laughed. ¡°Your time is coming to an end, Father. You¡¯ve turned into an old fool, and the only one who hasn¡¯t noticed seems to be you!¡± ¡°Oh, is that so? You know what I¡¯ve actually noticed? How you¡¯ve betrayed me! You think I wouldn¡¯t find out that you¡¯re scheming against me?¡± ¡°Huh, you aren¡¯t so stupid after all¡­ and you¡¯ve found out. So what? You think you can stop me with all these leeches around you? They are feigning for an opportunity to strike you down, and I¡¯ll be the one to deliver the last blow.¡± Troy found the moment to be sickly sweet. ¡°How brave you have gotten, son.¡± Padromo shook his head. ¡°Too bad you won¡¯t be here to finalize your plan.¡± ¡°What?¡± Troy asked, suddenly aware of his father¡¯s soldiers surrounding him. ¡°You¡¯re going away, son. One of your co-conspirators has ratted you out. Isn¡¯t that ironic?¡± The governor laughed. He was amused by the whole ordeal and the tiniest note of pride for his son bubbled inside him. Troy at least had the guts to stand in front of him like a man. ¡°What? You think these pitiful excuses for soldiers will be able to stop me?¡± Troy hurried to draw his weapon but the electric currents of the soldiers¡¯ tasers had already attached themselves to his back, forming a web of agonizing shockwaves. He fell to his knees, muscles struggled against the binding of electricity. His eyes found Padromo, flitting across the room. ¡°You¡­ not¡­ over!¡± Troy gritted out. ¡°Take this traitor away! We¡¯ll transfer him tomorrow¡­¡± Padromo commanded, tearing his indifferent gaze off his son. As the memory of his last encounter with Troy faded away, Padromo stood on his terrace, going over the possible locations in which his son might be hiding. The distasteful past and present actions of his heir pulled him back into a spiral of negative emotions, and he reminisced about how he had plucked Troy¡¯s supporters out of his government like petals of a rotting flower. One by one. He¡¯d preserved the precious soil of his rulership, but the root of the decay threatened to strike once more, two years later. The boy still thinks me a fool! he thought. Troy had a knack for attracting people to his side and making them follow his ideas, the governor had to admit. He possessed a trait many great leaders before him had, and his timing for causing intrastate hurricanes was second to none. Troy had managed to rattle the organization of the governor¡¯s men and had done it the night before the dawn of the biggest event in Kybernan Magnus'' history¡ª the Tournament. Padromo still had some time left before the fights began, so he went back inside and made a few phone calls. He¡¯d arranged transport for himself and his daughter, and they were to be picked up separately. Given the unexpected circumstances, it was safer for them not to be crammed into small spaces together, although the governor knew that Troy would never hurt his little sister. One of the rarer, fond memories in Padromo¡¯s life threatened to spill over his consciousness at the uninvited thoughts of them together, but he got distracted by another phone call. They had come to pick him up. The origins of the Arena were unknown even to the oldest families in the galaxy. Many scholars and historians from all over the world had tried to trace the launch of that enormous and beautifully constructed building, but, alas, none had succeeded. As most researchers did when they couldn¡¯t come to a conclusion, the main explanation for the structure¡¯s existence was credited to a mysterious, ancient civilization¡¯s efforts. Most of the natives weren¡¯t concerned with the question as the Arena had been there ever since they¡¯d known themselves. When it was first discovered by the people of Kybernan, the planet had yet to taste the power of the High State. The structure had been a fact, long before Padromo¡¯s great-grandfather had even thought about ruling. An almost natural amalgamation of the planet. The building was designed in such a way that if one looked at it from any chosen angle, the strange material from which it was built made it appear flat, no corners. And it did until you got close, close enough to distinguish the concrete ring around it. The Arena had its own disc, resembling some planets¡¯ own ring systems. And that wasn¡¯t the most intriguing part! The building itself floated in the air as if it had its own gravitational field. Such a thing was impossible to create even with the funds and resources that the High State possessed. Some had even joked that it was a little planet inside their own planet. The easiest way to describe the essence of the Arena was to imagine it as two pyramids glued together, with their peaks pointing north and south, respectively. The interior was hollow and had remained that way for many years until the appearance of the High State. The two governors before Padromo III had shown no interest in the Arena, and it was set aside for future consideration, remaining unexplored for years to come. Only and only Padromo had seen the potential in owning such a huge structure and had ordered a deeper investigation to be made. After learning that the Arena was empty inside, he¡¯d gathered his counsellors, and they had come up with the idea of turning it into a modern coliseum of sorts. It fitted Tyrium¡¯s aesthetic perfectly, and the numerous architects, engineers and builders the governor had brought over had gotten straight to work, finishing up the project four years and six months earlier than calculated. Padromo saw it for the golden mine that it was, and arriving at the Arena, he hoped that he would live to reap the benefits. On the inside, the Arena itself was divided into three parts. Starting from the upper part, which was the place where the sponsors, the high-ranking officials and of course the governor gathered. It wasn¡¯t large by any means, but it had everything one could ask for in such setting. There was a small conference room, a 24-hour bar where the rich mostly could be found, and a main hall from which one could watch the fights without having to go down to the Arena. Padromo could not afford this convenience, given he was still the head of the High State and appearances had to be kept. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Padromo entered the bar after he¡¯d been dropped off and made his way through the conference room. He greeted a few familiar faces and new sponsors and found himself in the observation hall. It was empty. His well-measured steps echoed off the panelled walls and he stopped in front of the wide opening overlooking the Arena. The audience had begun to gather. The arena held up to 90,000 people, not including the upper and lower sections of the facility. The stands had all been reserved since the tournament was announced and were now filling up. The cacophony of conversations and movement had started reaching Padromo¡¯s ears. The fighting mat was built in the middle, no bigger than two boxing rings. Shield emitters could be seen on each side, humming to indicate that they were functioning. Above the mat, four high-resolution screens were mounted, so that the spectators who were the farthest from the fight could better follow what was happening. There were also tall, metal doors on each side from which the fighters and the referee were expected to come out. The mat was meant for them only, and even the guards were not allowed to go down. They were ordered to patrol around the first stands, and Padromo could distinguish the EAGLE squad spread out among the civilians. ¡°Quite the audience we¡¯ve got there.¡± A familiar voice broke the silence. Allani had arrived a little later than her father, and she was certain she would find him in the hall. Padromo spoke without turning around. ¡°Yes, I can almost feel their excitement.¡± ¡°How about you? Are you excited?¡± She asked, now standing beside her father. They shared the same posture, straight as an arrow. ¡°I¡¯m impatient¡­ can¡¯t wait to see the caliber of fighters the recruitment team has picked up. Their performance will be representing my efforts.¡± Padromo replied. ¡°Where¡¯s our section on the stands?¡± Allani asked, her gaze wandering around. She had seen it upon her arrival but the long pauses between their conversations had always made her feel overwhelmed, so she had blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Padromo, as if having sensed her unease, pointed to the gold-plated seats across from them. Two heavily armed guards stood nearby, and some of the sponsors had taken their seats. Even Dasim had joined them. His globular figure was unmistakable even among thousands of people. ¡°Isn¡¯t Dasim¡¯s son supposed to be fighting today?¡± Allani asked. ¡°What¡¯s his name¡­?¡± ¡°Butch, yes. The first fight of the tournament. It¡¯s supposed to be a historic moment, and we have that buffoon stepping in¡­¡± Padromo shook his head. He would¡¯ve changed the brackets if he could¡ª they were automated, an anti-betting and rigging measure. ¡°He can¡¯t be that bad!¡± Allani chuckled, eyes beaming with childlike glee. The same eyes that could read the governor like an open book. ¡°Who¡¯s his opponent?¡± she asked. ¡°He calls himself ¡°The Orphan¡±. He¡¯s the only fighter from Yuna among them all. Has an almost perfect record.¡± ¡°Sounds promising,¡± Allani said. She wore a lemon green dress, combined with black stilettos and a thick bracelet on her left hand. The soft wind that crept through the opening slightly ruffled her short, blonde hair. ¡°Yes, let¡¯s hope our opening fight is going to be one for the ages,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯ve heard what Troy has done.¡± Allani blurted out. She knew it wasn¡¯t the right time for such a discussion, though she still exuded confidence that she could fix things between them. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear that traitor¡¯s name again!¡± Padromo barked. His face had adopted a mask of anger. Allani had never heard him talk to her in that tone. She pushed past the shock and swallowed a lump in her throat. ¡°But I¡ª¡± She was interrupted by one of her father¡¯s employees. His head poked out of the entrance of the hall. ¡°Sir, I¡¯m sorry to interrupt, but the fights are almost about to begin. Your seats are ready.¡± Padromo turned to leave, and he felt the hand of his daughter pulling him back. ¡°Dad, can¡¯t we talk about this, please? He¡¯s my¡ª¡± ¡°Enough! My point stands! He¡¯s threatened my citizens¡¯ livelihood, and that includes you! End of discussion!¡± Padromo finished, and they hurried to the Arena. Sav was sitting alone on one of the concrete benches at the bottom part of the Arena. Unlike the upper two parts of the floating structure, there were no windows in this section, and all the light was artificial. The neon lights that had been installed by the High State workers stood awkward and unnatural against the ancient, mosaic walls of the section. It was almost brighter than the outside. All the contestants were crammed into one place, and there wasn¡¯t a single person having a conversation. Most of the fighters seemed to be relaxed, but Sav could read right through their facades. Everyone had their tics, whether it be cracking their knuckles or constantly looking around like some lunatics. Sav wasn¡¯t sure if he was nervous or not. The others were certainly studying him as well, but he felt no need to hide his emotions. He let them flow through his consciousness, like fish in the sea. His transfer from the apartment to the Arena was relatively quick, and he, like the others, was amazed by the sheer size of the structure. Sav had to admit that using such a building to hold events and raise funds was very crafty of the High State. He¡¯d expected nothing less. The situation with the brackets was not explained to him in great detail, and in all fairness, he didn¡¯t care to listen. His mind kept going back to the conversation he had overheard between the pilots on STORM. Would he have to kill someone today? He wasn¡¯t burning with desire to commit such an act, but he knew he had to survive at all costs. Sav was ready. He had no information about his opponent except his name ¡ª Butch-7. Sav wondered if he was among them in the small space, but he shook his head. It was illogical, and it didn¡¯t matter. They were going to be called up to the Arena any moment now. He had somehow predicted that he would be a participant in the first duel. Amidst the ruckus and the shuffling of the fighters he tried to visualize his first fight ever. He remembered perfectly then how the fight had unfolded, but the feelings he had experienced were fading in his mind. It irritated him. ¡°Sav Orbona?¡± An EAGLE officer interrupted his train of thought. He was clad in that now unmistakable gear with the letterings. ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± Sav replied, staring up. ¡°It¡¯s time to fight. Follow me.¡± As he walked through the brightly lit tunnel, Sav could hear the loud roar of the audience. His hands were wrapped in bandages, which were the only protection allowed by the High State. During his preparation, Sav had realized that the tournament wouldn¡¯t be sporting, but rather barbaric. There hadn''t been any check-ups either, which was self-explanatory for the nature of the tournament. Sav was at peace with it. He took a deep breath and stopped behind the soldier. The noise from the crowd had become louder and he was forced to shout for Sav to hear him. ¡°Stand at the marked spot!¡± The officer ordered. His finger was pointing to two white footprints painted sloppily on the floor. Sav stepped forward and stared at the small door that led to the Arena. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body, and he smiled in excitement. He had missed the pre-fight thrill. He had closed his eyes, savoring the shouts of the crowd. ¡°You must wait until your name is announced! There will then be a short pause and the door will open! Stay on the markings!¡± The soldier stepped closer to Sav, looking him in the eyes. ¡°Is everything clear?¡± ¡°Loud and clear.¡± Sav nodded. The trooper wished him luck then left. After having competed in more than fifty high-level fights, Sav found it bizarre that he was still getting psyched before the fight. It was out of his control¡ª human nature. His love for competing also played a role in how he perceived the whole thing. He was ready. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen! The High State would like to welcome you to our long-awaited tournament! You are about to witness the fiercest battles in the history of the galaxy! We hope that the spectacle we¡¯ve prepared will be a great success and contribute immensely to our dear planet! Enjoy!¡± The announcement had begun and Sav caught only the last sentence. He clenched his fists. ¡°Without further ado, let us bring out our fighters on the Arena! Introducing first, fighting out of Kybernan Magnus, with a record of 24 wins and 3 losses, please welcome, Butch ¡°Butch-7¡± Dasim!¡± The door on the other side of the Arena opened, and Butch walked out onto the smooth mat with heavy steps. The crowd erupted, and most were standing on their feet, cheering the stout, young man on. ¡°Isn¡¯t he awesome?¡± Dasim leaned towards Padromo and shouted. They had all gathered in the golden stand and Allani was sitting right next to her father. Her mind was stuck at her failed attempt to discuss her brother¡¯s doings with their father. It sucked out the enjoyment of the event, and she hadn¡¯t even noticed Butch¡¯s walkout until Padromo replied to Dasim. ¡°We shall see, my friend!¡± Butch had stopped in the middle of the mat and raised his hands in the air, roaring at the top of his lungs. The audience responded befittingly. A holographic wall separated the fighting mat, and only the small Ref-Bot assigned by the State could pass through it. The bot stood still, programmed to give instructions only when both fighters were present. The audience settled down a bit, and Sav began bouncing on his feet, chasing a rhythm. The announcer continued. ¡°And his opponent, our only contestant fighting out of Yuna, holding a record of 51 wins and only 1 loss, please welcome, Sav ¡°The Orphan¡± Orbona!¡± The door in front of Sav revealed the Arena, and the excitement of the crowd rushed through him. He had felt the resurrection of their anticipation when the announcer had mentioned his fighting record. He jogged out of the tunnel with a smirk on his face and waved to the crowd once, standing against his opponent. Sav studied the ogre, immediately recognizing the side effects of the steroids. He glanced at his wrist, then back at Butch. ¡°Easy work!¡± Butch shouted, locking eyes with Sav. The Ref-Bot¡¯s sensors detected both the fighters being present on the mat, and it rotated once before: ¡°Attention! Any violation of the ruleset will be penalized! Each contender has the right to surrender and to reject a surrender! You have been warned!¡± The bot retreated into the tunnel it had come out of, and it closed shut. The announcer¡¯s voice reappeared. ¡°Fighters, get ready!¡± Holographic shields rose around them, just like the one that separated them from each other. Sav got into stance. ¡°3¡­ 2¡­ 1!¡± Sav sprawled just in time to defend the takedown attempt of Butch, trying to wrap his arms around the brute¡¯s neck. He could feel how strong he was, and he struggled to hold him back, dragging his feet backwards. Honed muscles and experience clashed against brute force. Sav managed to circle to his right and received a shot to the stomach before disengaging, resuming his previous position. ¡°Let¡¯s see you stuff this one!¡± Butch growled, then went for a second takedown. Lunging forward, he grabbed air and found himself on the ground. Butch hurried up to his feet, and his eyes, supported with cheeks of fat, locked on the young fighter. For a man of his size, he possessed incredible speed. Sav had jumped over him, and he stood poised for another attack. Given the drastic difference in weight, it would prove almost impossible for Sav to take Butch down, so he¡¯d decided to tire him out instead. Use his advantage against him. They began circling each other, feinting, trying to bait the other to overcommit to a shot. Sav faked a takedown of his own and sprang up with a sharp uppercut, finding the blocky chin of Butch. The ogre had leaned forward, and his head snapped back, suffering a left leg kick and another uppercut. The crowd erupted, and Sav had already gotten out of range. Again, they circled each other. Butch¡¯s nose was red, and he sniffed. Padromo glanced at Dasim. He could see the man fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. ¡°Almost took you down there¡­¡± Sav joked. He wanted to wind him up to exhaust him faster. He feinted high and kicked the knee of the ogre, retreating swiftly. Butch stumbled backward before rushing in with wide hooks and overhands. Sav rolled and evaded them, creating angles with his feet. He countered with a nasty left hook to the liver, and Butch grumbled. A hook to his face followed. He felt the fluidity of his movement build up with each hit he landed. Sav knew that he had to constantly feint and move around. He couldn¡¯t afford to receive many of those punches. He tried a front kick to the belly but couldn¡¯t retreat in time. Butch grabbed him by the foot and lifted him in the air, slamming him on the ground. He''d exhaled sharply through his nose right before landing. Sav¡¯s ears rang, and he scowled, shifting away to avoid a vicious elbow to the head. He rolled and managed to kick Butch¡¯s ribs before standing up. The young fighter was dizzy, and he couldn¡¯t hear the crowd¡¯s chants as clearly. Butch mouthed something, but Sav couldn¡¯t tell what it was. He shook his head. ¡°Yes! There you go, son!¡± Dasim shouted from the stands and stood up on his feet. Only then did he look at the governor. ¡°Told you he¡¯s strong, Padromo!¡± The governor smiled in return. The fighters stared at each other¡ªguards up. Sav noticed that Butch put a lot of weight on his lead leg, and he went for a low kick¡ªsnap! Another one followed, and the ogre lost his balance, stumbling forward with his hands low. The perfect opening for an overhand right and a left hook behind it. Sav rolled out to the left after the combination. Butch spat blood and cussed. Desperation took over his face. By that moment, Allani had recognized the calculated striker. Her instincts hadn¡¯t betrayed her after all; the man was dangerous. She hadn¡¯t expected to see him in her father¡¯s tournament. The young woman tried to recall their conversation in The Goblet, but the ear-splitting chants of the audience drowned her thoughts out. Back on the fighting mat, Sav focused on his opponent¡¯s movement. He knew he had cracked him good and braced himself for another one of Butch¡¯s attempts to knock him to the ground. The ogre was hurt and Sav was sure it was going to be the next thing he would try. Sav thought about the step-back knee he had drilled so many times in training, but decided he¡¯d counter with something different. He jabbed the gross belly of Butch and fell back, luring him closer to one of the invisible walls. Sav struck him right on the nose and jumped up just in time to avoid yet another takedown. Butch failed to judge the distance in time, and standing up in a mechanically learned way, he smashed his head right into the wall, falling to the ground. Sav wasted no time. He flipped the fat man over and got on top of him, locking Butch¡¯s lower body with his legs. The young fighter began overwhelming him with fierce punches and elbows to the head and body. Butch managed to block the first barrage, but the strikes wouldn¡¯t stop pouring down on him, soon rendering him helpless. He felt his teeth and jaw breaking, even some ribs. Sav wasn¡¯t stopping. ¡°Butch! Get up! Get up, goddamnit!¡± Dasim cried out. The attendees had gone wild. The presence of blood had made them turn into animals, watching a predator toy with its prey. Padromo had doubted the fighting skills of the tycoon¡¯s son from the beginning. He had warned Dasim that the tournament would be filled with more than capable fighters. Then, Dasim had assured him that Butch would match with those guys without an issue. Padromo, of course, hadn¡¯t believed him, but he wasn¡¯t going to let such funding slip. He scoffed. Butch¡¯s life was now in someone else¡¯s hands. Sav had stopped beating the fatty and stood over him. He had expected the Ref-Bot to step up, but no one appeared. The holographic walls disappeared, and the crowd quieted down almost completely. Sav looked at Butch. The ogre was breathing heavily, and his eyes were already swollen, face disfigured. Sav felt no remorse. He knew he would¡¯ve suffered the same fate if he hadn¡¯t gotten the upper position. The sudden, erratic chant from the stands pulled him back into reality. Sav listened: ¡°Reject!... Reject!... Reject!... Reject!¡± Butch managed to look up, gurgled. ¡°I¡­ surrender!¡± He spat out blood, fits of coughing preventing him from speaking further. Sav scanned the arena and its ecstatic crowd. His eyes found the governor, who had risen to his feet in the golden stand. His darkened gaze returned to Butch. ¡°Tough luck, Butchie.¡± Standing next to Padromo, Dasim watched in hurt-gripping terror as his son got his head stomped out. La Familia ¡°You¡¯ve cost my father a lot of money with that act,¡± Allani said. She had caught up with Sav after the fight and gave him coordinates to the location she wanted to meet at. She had told him that he didn¡¯t have to come, but Sav knew that it wouldn¡¯t be very wise of him to decline. After all, she was the daughter of the driving force that was the governor. ¡°I had to show everyone what I was capable of,¡± Sav replied. ¡°It¡¯s a tournament, isn¡¯t it?¡± They had met near an old, almost dry dam, and Sav was instantly drawn back to Yuna. The two planets were so different, yet so similar. All of the technology and money the High State had pumped in couldn¡¯t change the nature of the environment. Same thing went for the people. The weather was unsettling. It was as if it too was waiting for something terrible to happen. The sun was afraid to come out, like a cat would be afraid to jump into the dam in front of them. ¡°Believe me, if it was anyone else, I wouldn¡¯t even mention it,¡± Allani crouched down, trying to dip her fingers into the water. ¡°The guy didn¡¯t seem like anyone important to me,¡± Sav said, looking at the woman. Something about her attracted him. He found the confidence in her words to be alluring. Her beauty didn¡¯t help either. ¡°You¡¯re right, he wasn¡¯t. But his father, that¡¯s a completely different story.¡± She splashed some water around before getting to her feet. ¡°So, I take it that your father¡¯s pissed off?¡± Sav asked. ¡°He is, but not at you,¡± Allani said, moving a strand of hair out of her eyes. ¡°His father was one of the major sponsors of the tournament. Of course, after his son was killed, he withdrew all funds and left the planet¡­ My father is angry because he warned him that something like this could happen. He¡¯s actually pretty impressed with your performance,¡± the young woman concluded. ¡°I see. Is his withdrawal going to affect the progress of the tournament?¡± Sav asked, noting how the birds around them chirped. ¡°Well, at first, we thought so, but after the fights yesterday, many new sponsors have shown interest. Dasim¡¯s forfeit will not be felt.¡± Allani replied. The colorful leaves that had fallen from the thin branches of the trees rustled under their nimble footsteps. For some unknown reason, the two of them had begun to circle each other, resembling some secret dance of a different species. Sav traced the woman¡¯s steps, while she was waiting for him to look at her. Suddenly, Sav jumped a pace forward and was met by the muzzle of the woman¡¯s gun. He smirked. ¡°What do you want?¡± Sav asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re in a position to ask questions.¡± Allani quipped, holding the pistol with both hands, steady. ¡°Is that thing even loaded?¡± The woman fired into the air once and resumed her aim at Sav. The loud shot had disturbed the birds hiding in the trees and bushes, and they flew around, causing more leaves to fall down. One landed on the young fighter¡¯s shoulder, and the wind blew it away. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna tell me I¡¯m holding it wrong this time?¡± Allani raised an eyebrow. ¡°Hands up!¡± ¡°Okay, I¡¯m sure you would¡¯ve killed me by now if that was your intention,¡± Sav said. ¡°What is it?¡± He had hoped that she hadn¡¯t called him in just for a simple conversation. The dam was well outside the borders of Tyrium, and Sav had to walk at least what he thought were four kilometers before reaching the assigned location. He¡¯d ordered a cab prior to that. He wasn¡¯t complaining; it was a decent workout. Well, more like a warm-up, Sav thought. ¡°We¡¯re going to a different location,¡± Allani revealed. She motioned forward and Sav began walking, trying to figure out how far behind him the woman was judging by the sounds of her footsteps. Sav thought about running off into the woods, but decided against it. ¡°Will you at least tell me where you¡¯re taking me?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯ll see when we arrive.¡± They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds present were those of nature and the hurried breathing of two people. The heavenly tunes of the flora and fauna with the monotony of their footsteps had hurled Sav into a hallucinatory state. He imagined that the melodies he heard were composed by fairies, who hid deep in the forest. It was their way of welcoming them into their home. Sav rarely allowed himself to fantasize about anything, and he had never expected it to happen in Kybernan. Maybe Allani was his long-lost muse? He laughed inwardly. Fate could be a cruel bitch sometimes. His mind went back to the fairies and an alien feeling took over him. They¡¯d turned from angelic creatures into distorted tech hybrids, cursed with steel and cables. And instead of singing their sweet songs, they screeched in anger, confusion. It felt as if someone were dragging a fork along Sav¡¯s skull, and it took him a hefty amount of self-control not to scream out. Side effects? Sav wondered and shook his wrist. ¡°Alright, stop right there,¡± Allani ordered. They came to a halt in front of a singular storm canal. It looked like a bottomless pit, and the concrete base from which it protruded was covered in black spots and cracks. A caress of Father Time. The opening of the large metal cylinder contrasted with the greenery surrounding it. Even vines had begun to form over the upper ridge, rusty in color, but not because of the flow from the canal. There was no body of water remotely close to them and no signs of dampness came from the dark tunnel. It hadn¡¯t been operational for centuries¡ªa perfect hiding place. ¡°We hunting monsters?¡± Sav joked and turned to Allani. The woman hadn¡¯t put her weapon down for a second since their departure from the dam. She pulled a flashlight from her pocket and threw it at Sav¡¯s feet, keeping her gaze on him. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go,¡± she ordered. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The young fighter sighed deeply and picked up the flashlight from the ground. He clicked once and headed inward along the canal. Allani followed. The bright ball of light revealed their path, and as they continued forward, a few drops of water fell on Sav¡¯s hair. He smoothed it back with his left hand and Allani gripped her gun tighter. She was cautious even of the tiniest movement. ¡°Make a left here,¡± she said. Sav turned to the left and their path was blocked by a dark red, steel door. Freshly painted, from the looks of it. Someone had done a decent job, but even fresh paint couldn''t hide the tear and wear of time. ¡°Knock three times, wait for three seconds, then do it again.¡± Allani¡¯s voice instructed from behind. Sav clenched his fist and did as the woman had told him, then he stepped back. There were quick movements beyond the door and the sound of a lever being pulled. It creaked and the door opened. They were met by a soldier wearing a helmet. He looked like an ordinary fly. He seemed to recognize Allani and calmly moved out of their way. ¡°Move, Sav,¡± Allani ordered again. Several soldiers were walking around the unit, busy with their duties. A hole had been dug on the right side of the room, and the blows of pickaxes echoed in the distance. At the bottom of the place was an exquisitely varnished oak table, and behind it sat a young man with long, dark hair. His nose was exactly like Allani¡¯s, and his eyes carried a harsh, glossy look. Soldier¡¯s eyes, some would call them. A red-headed woman stood over his shoulder, and her gaze hopped from the man to the approaching duo and back. ¡°I hope you won¡¯t be bringing all of our guests with a gun pointed at their heads.¡± The man behind the desk spoke, shifting forward on his seat. ¡°Welcome back, little sister.¡± ¡°Had to make sure he won¡¯t run away,¡± Allani answered and went over to the man, wrapping her arms around him in a short hug. ¡°Who¡¯s our friend here?¡± Troy asked, pointing at Sav. ¡°You¡¯re quick with the labels,¡± Sav replied, jaw clenched. ¡°What the fuck is this supposed to be?¡± ¡°Watch your tone!¡± Phoebe warned before the siblings could open their mouths. ¡°Oh, you gonna stop me, Riding Hood?¡± Sav shot back. He wouldn¡¯t let them take the reigns of the conversation that easily. Troy placed his hand in front of Phoebe before she could step towards Sav. The young fighter knew the type. Their weapons gave them a false sense of security, and he was confident that he could clear the whole room out if they didn¡¯t have them. ¡°Phoebe, leave us for a minute, will you?¡± Troy said. It sounded like a request, but the redhead knew she couldn¡¯t push it further. She glared at Sav once more, then left for the hole in the wall. ¡°Let¡¯s start again, shall we?¡± Allani began. ¡°Sav, this is my brother, Troy.¡± ¡°Yeah, I figured,¡± Sav said, not being able to hide his irritation. He had foolishly trusted Allani, thinking they would meet up for something different than the Tournament or the High State, only to find himself involved in what seemed like a messy family affair. The situation suited his luck. ¡°Troy¡­¡± Allani paused. ¡°This is Sav. He¡¯s fought in father¡¯s tournament and won his first match¡­ He killed Dasim¡¯s son.¡± ¡°Impressive,¡± Troy noted. ¡°Just the type of man I need.¡± ¡°Hold on. What exactly do you need me for?¡± Sav asked. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly the family counselor type.¡± Sav earned a chuckle from Troy, and the governor¡¯s son left his seat, leaning against the table. ¡°Allani¡¯s told me that my father has taken an interest in you.¡± The young fighter could hear the disgust oozing from Troy¡¯s tone. He continued: ¡°There¡¯s a good chance he¡¯ll call you into his infamous administration facility before your next fight.¡± ¡°Ah, I see, you want me to smooth things over for you,¡± Sav interrupted, mocking. ¡°Funny, but no. You see, my father¡¯s looking for someone whom he can trust¡ªan outsider. Someone crazy enough to take a bullet for him, and smart enough to tell what gun it came from. You seem just like the type,¡± Troy explained. His sister had retreated and listened to their conversation from the opposite end of the room. ¡°You want me to earn his trust, so you can take him down easier.¡± Sav thought out loud. ¡°See, Allani? He¡¯s dangerous and smart¡ªa deadly combination in the right hands.¡± He glanced over at his sister. ¡°Good thing we got to him first, no?¡± ¡°Yes, he¡¯s pretty cunning as well,¡± she said, referring to their first encounter. ¡°And why exactly should I help you?¡± Sav asked. ¡°It¡¯s pretty simple, actually. If you agree to help me, and do your job well, I will appoint you to the highest possible rank in the High State when I inevitably take over the government. Those Eagles are, to put it mildly, useless compared to my squad.¡± ¡°Is that it?¡± Sav wasn¡¯t impressed. Troy was offering him to jump from the frying pan into the fire. ¡°I¡®m not done,¡± Troy said. ¡°I¡¯ll offer you one more thing that I know you¡¯ll have a hard time refusing.¡± He paused, took a breath. ¡°If you help me overthrow my father, I will lift all the reparations on Yuna.¡± ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t know me,¡± Sav replied. ¡°You thought wrong.¡± Troy shot back, smirking. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to just take your word for it?¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s all I have for now, but trust me. I am nothing like my father in that regard.¡± Time around Sav stopped for a moment. It was as if Troy¡¯s words had rocketed him back into his past. What he promised Sav was more valuable and greater than any rank or amount of money. For the young fighter, it was bigger than life itself. It was an opportunity, finally, after so many years of suffering, to free his people from their quiet desperation. To free them from the sadistic hold of the High State. He trembled, and goosebumps rose all over his skin. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll help you. But if you fail to uphold your end of the bargain, I promise you¡ªI¡¯m going to hunt every single one of you down¡­¡± Sav finished, almost rasping. ¡°I love the enthusiasm! We¡¯ll keep in touch. You¡¯re free to stay if you¡¯d like,¡± Troy offered. Back outside, in front of the storm canal, Sav hoped with all his being that Padromo would call a meeting. He had to gain his trust. Maybe on his next fight? Sav had been pretty vicious last time. Had he not finished Butch off in a spectacular, gladiator-like fashion? A million things were running through his mind. Leaving Yuna, he had accepted that his path would not be easy, though he had not expected to find himself in the middle of a conspiracy against the government. Not only that, but now he had agreed to become the crucial force behind the whole puppetry. ¡°You still here?¡± Allani asked, she stood right behind him. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re not gonna point a gun at my head this time?¡± Sav asked, half-joking. ¡°No, Mr. Orbona. I¡¯d like to make it up to you¡­for that.¡± ¡°Oh, would you? How can I be sure you won¡¯t take me to see another one of your¡­acquaintances?¡± He turned to face her. ¡°Because we¡¯re going back to my place,¡± Allani answered, ordering an air-cab from her phone. ¡°Whoa, you move fast, don¡¯t you?¡± Sav teased. He noticed the slightest hue of pink appearing on the woman¡¯s cheeks but chose not to say anything. ¡°I have no problem in letting you walk all the way back over to the city!¡± ¡°Fine, fine! I¡¯ll come.¡± The day had been filled with twists and unexpected obstacles, and while Sav waited for Allani to bring their cocktails to her terrace, he felt how the course of his life was changing with each decision he made. He held the rubber band of his destiny, and today he had pulled it as hard as he could, avoiding its slap on his skin at the very last moment. The sun had hidden itself beneath the covers of the night, and the new darkness symbolized the uncertainty of the young warrior¡¯s future. He sighed. ¡°Here they are!¡± Allani exclaimed, holding a glass in each hand. She had made the same drink Sav had drunk at The Goblet. She sat down, then: ¡°Make a toast!¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t that for old people?¡± Sav joked. ¡°Come on! Please?¡± Allani pressed; her glass was already in the air. ¡°All right¡­¡± Sav paused in thought. ¡°To our newly formed friendship.¡± ¡°Are we just going to be friends, Sav?¡± Xal Zhaen The giant, indigo flytraps snapped their mouths in search of their next meal. The silky hairs around their jaws stood at attention for any careless prey, and the sharp blades in the middle glistened¡ªready to support the wicked embrace of the awaiting lobes. Thousands of strong stems had formed a grim passage that ran through the whole expanse, consisting of many other carnivorous plants and lifeforms. The flytraps, with their hissing and almost rhythmic snapping, seemed to be communicating with each other, which couldn¡¯t be too far from the truth, considering that these were organisms that possessed their own unique form of intelligence. The way they had carved their path and divided the greenery into equal regions spoke of a foreign hand of interference in their act of terraforming. The essence of their disposition was the end result of the long-standing attempts and experiences of the local residents to obtain the living roots of such plants. And when they had discovered how to breed the flytraps in a way that emulated, say, a road system similar to that of modern, complex cities on other planets, the problem of transportation was solved. The only real drawback to the makeshift road junctions was that these plants needed food to function and therefore maintain order on the planet. The issue hadn¡¯t persisted for long, like many others before, and soon enough, hunting groups had been formed. Their only objective was to find insects that were large enough to be swallowed by the plants, as their great numbers prevented them from feeding on their own. Ambitions within ambitions. Instead of patching potholes or repaving roads, this was their way of keeping the planet moving. Standard modes of transportation were not possible on Xal¡¯ Zhaen. The harsh conditions and the constantly changing climate did not allow any construction activities to be undertaken. The Xaleans had to use the natural resources of the planet, and build an infrastructure that would protect them from those same resources¡ªa stage of never-ending limbo. On top of all the difficulties, they had to also battle with tireless predators and the cherry on top¡ª the High State. At first, when the tyrants made contact with the Xaleans, they had come to the planet with intentions to negotiate a transactional pact. Of course, the threatening undertones of the High State had been ever present in the discussion, and the Xal¡¯ Zhaen natives had quickly realized that they would have to accept whatever conditions were set¡ªa tale old as time. The promise of the High State diplomats had been their unwavering protection of the populace in exchange for half of the planet¡¯s monthly accumulated zens, and special shipments of the specific vines which grew in the deep jungle, used to sew and to craft the highest quality clothes and armor in the galaxy. This put absolute strain on the already difficult lives of the Xaleans, and every day had turned into a constant struggle for survival, without any hope for a better future. After the initial agreement had been reached, the High State had sent a couple of their battleships, full of their most capable men. The first couple of weeks had been pretty uneventful, and the soldiers of the High State had gotten used to the frequent, drastic changes in the climate. The relationship, despite the injustice towards the Xaleans, had been going well until the predators had made themselves known. Naturally, the encounters with the wild beasts had proven to be disastrous for the High State, for the simple reason that they lacked the necessary attributes with which to confront them. Unlike humans, the eyes of the Xaleans, those huge shiny orbs, were adapted to deal with the threat posed by those predators. The overgrown sabretooths, which moved in large packs only during the night, possessed the ability to manipulate their own shadows and it was impossible to detect for anyone other than a Xalean. Despite the soldiers¡¯ ultimate modifications, their weapons had fallen powerless against the ancient animals¡¯ mind-whirling play of shadows, resulting in a series of brutal killings. The High State had not liked the loss of so many personnel, and they had blamed the locals before retracting their stream of protection from the planet completely, leaving the Xaleans to fend for themselves. As expected, the reparations had not been lifted, and Xal¡¯ Zhaen had been threatened with an outright war at the first attempt at protest. The natives hadn¡¯t lived during the Great Harb, but knew the consequences a potential conflict could bring. They were stuck serving a system that gave nothing in return and in a dreadful cycle of life¡ª hunting by day and being hunted at night. Presently, Hermann, Manny for short, stood hidden in a large, overgrown bush, located east of the Great Expanse and in close proximity to the First Flytrap Junction¡ªa historic monument on Xal¡¯ Zhaen. It had cost an enormous amount of effort to create and was connected to all roads, except for a few. Some of the older Xaleans called and knew it as the Highway of Life. Manny¡¯s eyes, large and shiny, scanned the surroundings through the subtle openings of twigs and leaves. He tapped his earbud once and clicked with his tongue before whispering, ¡°We have not yet detected any lifeforms near the area. The wind is strong from the north side.¡± ¡°I suggest we wait a little longer then get out of here¡­ it¡¯s getting late,¡± a young voice spoke in Manny¡¯s ear. ¡°Go if you want. I¡¯m not leaving until I catch one of those damn insects,¡± a raspy, older voice said. It belonged to an elder of the group. Manny hopped onto another branch and resumed his position, listening for the familiar sound of their prey¡ª nothing. ¡°What? You¡¯re gonna stay here and risk being torn apart by predators, that it?¡± the young voice asked; it had taken a lot of courage to pose the question. ¡°I don¡¯t think I have to answer to a newbie like you,¡± the elder said. ¡°And shouldn¡¯t you¡ª¡± ¡°Shut up. I heard something,¡± Manny warned. He looked up and saw the belly of a wiry fly as it roamed above them. Its webbed, transparent wings cast a looping shadow over the stealthy Xaleans, and its whirling swings ruffled the leaves of the trees around them. Manny tapped his earbud once more, then clicked three times with his tongue before whistling in a frequency so low that it could be caught only by the acute hearing of a Xalean. With that little gesture, he had warned the others to assume their positions at the end of their assigned ropes, which were all bound to the masterfully concealed web trap lying in the middle. It was strewn with piles of leaves, branches, and small bushes, and most importantly, a slimy soup containing all sorts of small insects¡ª the perfect bait for a starving fly. The large insect paused midair and noticed the scattered dead bugs on the ground. It seemed to look around for potential observers, then flew most calmly to the hidden trap. The Xaleans knew that it wouldn¡¯t just land there, and they began pulling the ropes back and forth. By shaking the mush of insects, they had spilled on the trap, they made the smell of fresh food reach the awaiting fly faster, and it landed down smoothly, soon after. The white-furred natives had carried out the first step of the plan, and now it was all a matter of time and patience. They had to wait until the insect had eaten its first bug before they could tighten the ropes all the way, and close the trap around it. The reason being that they didn¡¯t want the fly to suspect anything, so they could strike it down during its second bite. It gulped down a caterpillar the size of an adult human and stepped forward, looking for another bite. The fly took a liking to a black bug, encased in a dull, bony shell and bit it, chomping in delight. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Now!¡± Manny shouted, watching everything from his place in the wild bush. In a sudden, joined movement, the Xaleans tightened the thick ropes, and the trap sprang into action. The insect tried to launch itself upward, but the lightning-fast blades of the trap pinned it down and forced their way through the fly¡¯s hideous body, killing it on the spot with the bug still thrashing around in its mouth. The entire hunting party roared in happiness and leaped from the trees and bushes, gathering around their prey. Some embraced each other and others jumped around, pleased with the completion of their plan. The capture of such significant prey meant that the flytrap junctions would be operational for months to come, and the party would finally be able to rest from all the hard work they had done. Manny went down to his companions and examined the dead fly. How lucky we are, he thought. ¡°Hermann, nice job with the coordinating,¡± the elder approached. His fur was gray with age, and his eyes didn¡¯t seem to shine as brightly as those of the younger ones. ¡°Thanks, Dietrich,¡± Manny said. ¡°I¡¯m just glad to keep the roads running.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t expect that we¡¯d catch something this big¡­ we¡¯ve earned our break,¡± Dietrich said, relieved that it was over. ¡°Think we¡¯ll be able to get home on time?¡± Manny asked, inching closer to one of the wings of the fly. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ll have to set up camp here,¡± Dietrich said. ¡°I hope we have the same luck as we did with the fly¡­¡± The wooden planks cracked under the heat of the campfire, and one of the hunters kept feeding it whatever he could find. The party had to illuminate as large an area as possible in order to have good visibility. The same visibility that was enhanced by their eyes, keeping them thriving as a nation. During the nights on Xal¡¯ Zhaen, light was the most valuable currency, and they made sure to have plenty of it. They had gathered near the campfire around the web trap and spoke in hushed tones. Dots of warm fires took shape all over the green land to form a network of improvised lights. The group had split into three so they could cover as much ground as possible, ready for a potential attack. ¡°¡­ And how do you plan to transport this big boy to the Expanse?¡± One of the Xaleans gathered around the fire asked. He was called Ear for he had a half-bitten ear. ¡°Like we always have,¡± Mitch said, seeming to argue with everybody. ¡°You ask as if we¡¯ve never dealt with a big fly before.¡± ¡°What¡¯s your fucking problem?¡± Ear asked, irritated. ¡°We can¡¯t keep living like this, you know¡­¡± Mitch said, peering into the fire. ¡°Living like what?¡± ¡°Like some goddamned slaves, that¡¯s what!¡± Mitch thundered, lifting his gaze and seeing the illuminated faces of his people. ¡°Yeah? What do you intend for us to do, oh Holy Savior?¡± Ear laughed, chucking a branch into the fire. ¡°The prospect¡¯s right,¡± Dietrich joined. ¡°We all know he is. The question is not what we can do, but how long we can wait¡­ We have to show patience, and¡­ and find a trustworthy ally to fight off the High State.¡± He paused. ¡°Until then, we¡¯ll live like goddamned slaves if we have to!¡± ¡°A difficult task, but I think it¡¯s possible,¡± Manny added. ¡°And who would trust you with that traitor brother of yours?¡± Mitch asked. Before Mitch could tell what was happening, Manny stood up from his spot on the far side of the camp and flew through the fire to grab him by the neck. Mitch tried to push him away, but Manny pulled back and tripped him with his foot, sweeping him to the ground with one blow. The prospect raised his head instinctively and was met by Manny¡¯s monstrous claws. Everyone around them had frozen, and no one dared to step between them to interfere. They knew perfectly well what Manny was capable of when someone made him angry. He didn¡¯t need any weapons to take a life in a heartbeat. Although late, Mitch had also realized this from Manny¡¯s cold gaze that was now piercing its way into his soul. ¡°If you ever question my loyalty again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat,¡± Manny warned, then retreated to his seat. ¡°Uh, lads, aren¡¯t there six of us here?¡± Ear asked after the silence that arose from the quarrel. ¡°Yes, why?¡± Dietrich rasped, scornful. ¡°There¡¯s a shadow in excess¡­¡° ¡°Run!¡± Manny shouted, and his voice echoed throughout the entire perimeter. The seventh shadow suddenly expanded and took the form of a large cat. The exhausted Xaleans spread out at the last moment, and the fire they had worked so hard to build was extinguished by the beast¡¯s imposing figure. It landed with a heavy bang and looked from inside infrared eyes; clouds of smoke rolled around. Ultimately, the ambush they had hoped would not come had befallen them in that moment of unpreparedness. Manny had lost sight of his companions and had hurried to hide in one of the bushes just above the valley overlooking the dead fly. He hoped, at least, that the sabretooth wouldn¡¯t eat their prey¡ª it would set them back for months. He tapped his receiver and heard the rapid breathing and shouts of his friends. ¡°Put the fires out and run for the valley!¡± A new voice on the line called out. ¡°Damn the fly!¡± Manny had hidden himself because he knew that, without a weapon, there was nothing he could do against the sabretooth. He was not one to shy away from a good hunt, but facing such a predator without the proper equipment was pure suicide. He preferred to live. ¡°Oh, shit! I think it got Ear!¡± someone shouted. ¡°Nah, that was Steve!¡± Ear shot back, and the unexpected growl of the animal in the background made Manny tremble. ¡°We need help!¡± Mitch said. ¡°We¡¯re stuck on the tree behind the trap! Dietrich¡¯s hurt!¡± ¡°Hang tight! I¡¯m coming!¡± Manny said. Never in his life had Manny covered such a considerable distance in such a short time. Upon hearing that the life of one of his oldest and most trusted friends was at stake, he had not hesitated to spring out of the bush and run towards them. At that moment, nothing could stop him. His face was cut in several places, and a sharp branch had almost taken out his eye. Manny reached the tree and noticed the animal¡¯s tail swinging like a hairy whip. He crouched down so he could see what was happening. Mitch and Dietrich had managed to climb to the top of the tree and were watching as the sabretooth slashed at the base with its deadly claws. The whole tree shook, and the thinner branches fell around it. Manny had to act quickly and buy the trapped duo some time. Dietrich was bleeding. Without waiting any longer, Manny got behind the sabretooth, waiting for the right moment to latch onto its tail. The animal let out a wail and twisted, trying to break free from Manny¡¯s painful grasp. He had dug his claws as deep as possible into the predator¡¯s skin and when he was sure he wouldn¡¯t fall easily, he bit down as well, teeth sinking into flesh. ¡°Move out! Go!¡± Manny half-mumbled, half-shouted. Mitch lifted Dietrich onto his back with a heavy grunt and descended the thick branches, careful where he placed his weight as he jumped down. The two of them took one last look at Manny, who was swinging wildly in the air, glued to the animal¡¯s tail, and they ran to the valley. Manny was left alone against the enemy, his jaw tired from the continual clenching. He relaxed his bite, and in that moment of weakness, the animal¡¯s tail knocked him to the ground. Manny hurried to his feet but was stopped by the sabretooth¡¯s paw. Infrared moons met bold, shining orbs and Manny didn¡¯t blink for a second. He felt no fear, but pride in himself. He was grateful that he had gotten the opportunity to save two Xalean brothers, and he smiled in the face of death¡­ It never came. Manny had closed his eyes, waiting to be swallowed and torn apart by the sabretooth¡¯s strong jaws, remembering the rarer, good times in life. He heard a loud thundering and the ground shook under him. Manny opened his eyes to see the animal slump to the ground with a large hole in the middle of its head¡ª someone or something had shot it. The world around him had become bright again, and his ears caught the sound of an almost sexual breathing. It was as if he had been put in a cave and the drops from the walls were falling right into his brain, then pooling into a pond of hushing. A long, armored hand reached out to him from the newly formed light, and Manny grabbed it to save himself¡­ ¡°Yes! That¡¯s exactly how it happened!¡± Manny said, leaning on the leather sofa in Sav¡¯s apartment in Kybernan. Manny had asked the young fighter to meet so he could tell him more about his vision. ¡°So, you¡¯re telling me that I was the one who saved you from this¡­ sabretooth?¡± Sav asked. ¡°Yes! I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a coincidence at all! You know, when¡ª¡± ¡°You sure it wasn¡¯t just a trip? We saw what happened at The Goblet,¡± Sav said, sitting across from Manny. The window behind him was ajar and the cold, morning breeze crept in. ¡°I mean, it was a hallucination but¡­ they¡¯ve never felt so real before¡­¡± Manny said, thoughtful. ¡°Come on, Manny,¡± Sav sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna give me that prophecy bullshit, are you?¡± ¡°No, no¡­¡± Manny waved. ¡°I interpret it differently.¡± ¡°How exactly?¡± Sav asked, leaning forward. ¡°You remember what I told you about finding a trustworthy ally?¡± Manny asked. ¡°Go on¡­¡± ¡°I think that it¡¯s you,¡± Manny hesitated, but Sav knew the Xalean believed what he was saying. ¡°¡­ And how do you expect me to help an entire nation by myself?¡± Sav asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Sav, but I can tell you one thing,¡± Manny said. ¡°If you decide to take action against the High State, know that the Xaleans will have your back.¡±