The fanfare of dozens of horned instruments hit every holoview in every district, on every ship, and in every bar where someone had ever bet their last c-chip on a stranger's fists.
Blue-and-gold letters slammed into existence:
COALITION CARNAGE
Seventeen planets flashed behind the title in violent, strobing bursts-Tilris wings slicing air, Humans throwing light with their knuckles, Dagon silhouettes like carved war, Ja'ir ice swallowing bodies, Ksush limbs moving faster than the eye could forgive.
A high, girly voice cut through it all, bright as a blade.
"After a decade of anticipation-ten long years of wanting-it's back."
Quick images of beings of every race, mixed with diverse settings.
"It's the year that brings us together in spirited rivalry. A show of strength of body... and the power of the mind." The voice rose like a countdown. "To the victor, blessings beyond the wildest of dreams. One thousand years in the making..."
The music dropped into a rhythmic pulse that matched heartbeats across the galaxy.
"It's the 100th decennial Coalition Carnage Competition!!!"
Screens go dark. Then fireworks. Topaz City burned with celebration, even under daylight.
Fireballs looped through the sky with bangs and pops, their sparks spilling in every spectrum, brilliant even in the sun, thanks to the shade thrown by the sky-high topaz gem that hung above the city like a god's eye.
The gem shifted colors in time with the explosions. Blue, gold, blue, gold.
Below, Dycordians packed the streets; laughter, street drums, children on shoulders, vendors screaming offers no one could hear over the noise. Floating viewscopes drifted like curious insects, catching everything: kisses, brawls, dancing, bets made with trembling hands.
And then she floated into frame. A pink-tinted Tilris, arms and legs spread like she wanted a hug from the sky. Her feathers were long and luxurious in some places, near non-existent in others, her slight form curated with the kind of purposeful sex appeal that made viewers forget they were being sold something.
On closer inspection, she was incorporeal. A hologram. A ghost in glamor.
"Happy New Year, my fellow carnies!" she sang. "My name is Roxy Boss, and I'm your host for this year's mega event! Open your hearts, purse your lips, and blow me a kiss, oh loving galaxy!"
She floated down until she hovered a few meters above the roaring crowd.
"Ready for some carnage!?"
Topaz City answered like it wanted blood in a chalice.
Roxy grinned wider. "And I'm sure you're not alone, just as I'm not alone. Joining me as our on-the-scene commentator, coming to us all the way from the sixteenth planet... Coalition Carnage Color Correspondent Ksush... Grodin!"
The holoview cut hard to chaos.
Grodin, three armed, seven feet tall, built like a walking wall, held a five-inch microphone in the overhead hand while the other two arms shoved drunk Pians away from his frame.
He stood before rows of wooden seating arranged like a colosseum. Every seat was full; six hundred thousand bodies, vibrating with anticipation and alcohol.
"Don't forget, crowd-pleasing former host of this very Competition, Roxy," Grodin said, smiling like a professional while beer slid down his head. "I'm here on Pia, partying with Pian carnies who hope to see some action up close here at Pia's new geodome, the Stadium."
Behind him, the ring: a 36x36 square of dark glass with ten-meter-high pillars in each corner.
Empty thrones sat atop those pillars, waiting.
"No longer content with battles taking place on their moon," Grodin continued, "the Pians now have a front row seat for the battles that make this Competition so great."
Two Pians roared in agreement and slammed their black-glass mugs together, sloshing beer all over Grodin's head again.
He threw them a look of murderous restraint, then smiled back at the viewscope.
"It's late afternoon local time," he added, voice smooth, "so the alcohol is flowing freely here for this historical event. This will be the first time a Coalition Carnage battle takes place on Pian soil since its conception. The energy is electric, with hopes of a first-round match pick. Will the Pians get it? We'll have to wait and see."
Roxy's voice slid in like silk over flesh. "Awesome! The opportunity to have blood and sweat spray directly in front of them has got the Pians hype and I don't blame them."
Roxy winked into a new location, her holographic legs knee deep in a flowing river of lava, while in the distance, a volcano exhaled black smoke into the air.
"Some of our viewers may remember this place, the Fire Eye," Roxy purred. "For our viewers too young to remember, the Fire Eye is a moon orbiting the planet closest to the Papuru Star. It's a volcano moon! How awesome is that!?"
She bounced in enthusiasm, the lava never reacting to her presence.
"Something new for the rest of you carnies out there, the geodomes have a wicked upgrade."
She floated over to a group of Yuni drinking beside a lava bed, their smooth rock skin reflecting orange light.
"Anybody interested in demonstrating the new geodome feature?"
One drunken Yuni leaned forward. "I'll do it, sweet wing."
Roxy tilted her head. "Pick up that stone and throw it across the river bed."
"If you go out with me."
Roxy didn't blink. "Anybody want to test the geodome?"
The Yuni huffed, embarrassed by laughter from his friends. "Okay, okay. I got this."
He grabbed a stone only slightly bigger than his hand, hauled back like a punchball pitcher, and heaved.
The rock made a third of its journey across the lava river before it struck something invisible, a barrier. The barrier stretched, the landscape beyond distorted like a sick mirage.
Then the surface snapped back, the stone also, and nailed the Yuni in the forehead. He did two backflips before face-planting. His friends howled while he started doing pushups, trying to show he was still fit and uninjured.
Roxy squealed. "Invisible geodomes that stretch when an object or person comes into contact! Imagine a body bouncing off into an outstretched spear! Whoo, the strategies! Let's take a look at more new and returning geodomes!"
Images flickered:
A mega glacier on a frozen lake, snow trapped in a bubble. "First fire, now ice. Ja'ir's constant contribution, the Whisper Wall," Roxy said. "How many frozen Superstar bodies will it produce this year?"
A neighborhood of dilapidated buildings shrouded in dust and darkness, trash everywhere. "Another returning geodome. The Superstars better tread lightly here. Many undesirables occupy this place, some of which may not want to be seen. A shot in the back would end a battle real quick. No one is welcome in...the Underbay! Now come on, give me a new one."
A metal room, floor, walls, ceiling, all steel, with a maroon pyramid floating high center. "The Randomizer. Rumors indicate it fits what would come from the world of Prees. I got a feeling it won't disappoint."
Roxy's smile sharpened. "We've got experts running analysis on the Superstars. Interviews with family. A special word from the winner of the 99th Carnage. All this and more as the Opening Ceremony starts right now, with the comedic stylings of the Magic Donkey Brothers!"
Roxy winked out and reappeared in luxury. Burgundy carpet, lush furniture, and a wall of glass overlooking the landscape of egg-shaped structures outside; the giant topaz gem disappearing above the view.
The opposite wall was one enormous holoview showing the Magic Donkey Brothers.
Food and beverages from multiple worlds lined another wall in a tasteful arrangement, except for the mess: spilled drinks, dropped portions, puddles, the smell of everything mingled with the distinct aroma of smoking root. Roxy's hologram didn't have a sense of smell, but she could see the smoke.
"This is a non-smoking room, Superstar Morihilus."
Morihilus leaned against the wall by the food table, puffing a root lit on one end. Dark red skin shining with moisture, he was dressed like he was going to a formal event where someone died. A pointed rapier fish blade sat at his hip like punctuation.
"This is not some common root, you annoying bird," Morihilus said, "but shay root, fit for only those of royal blood."
"Don't care," Roxy replied. "Put it out."
"I will not."
A voice from the hover chair nearby, lazily and hungrily. "Smoked fish is a delicacy on my world."
Morihilus's purple eyes glowed. "Watch the insolence, buffoon."
The speaker rose.
Gorjon stood over two meters tall, shirtless, his three arms heavily muscled, bunched like a bag of perfectly placed marbles. His black and white tights showing he loved to workout.
He strode toward Morihilus, footsteps heavy even through the thick carpet.
Roxy floated between them immediately. "This is not the time, Superstar Gorjon."
Gorjon reached out calmly, grabbed the root from Morihilus's lips, and crushed the still-lit shay root in his oversized hand.
"I would rather taste your blood," Gorjon said, voice flat. "But then, I already have. Didn't care for it. I'll just spill it instead."
Morihilus's hand slid to his rapier.
"That was ten years ago," Morihilus hissed. "Have a taste now."
A loud laugh cut through the tension. Morihilus turned his head slightly. "Must you guffaw so ridiculously loud?!"
A man-sized reptile lounged on a hovering couch, laughing at the Magic Donkey Brothers like comedy was oxygen. A yellow reptilian eye peered at them, slow and deliberate, then returned to the holoview and laughed again, boisterous, unapologetic.
Morihilus turned on Roxy, voice sharp. "How long must I endure these miscreants? I have strategies to discuss with my Syncs."
"The Lords of Continent want all the Superstars here during the speech portion," Roxy said.
"To parade us around for the rabble to gawk at us like split fish?"
"Don't be vulgar-"
Gorjon cracked his knuckles; the sound was like fireworks. "I'm bored. How about an exhibition match, fish man."
Roxy wagged one see through finger at both. "Save it for the sanctioned battles, boys. Besides, you should show a little modesty, for Superstar Narshira's sake."
Narshira, standing by the entryway, munching fruit, two forehead antenna wriggling with amusement, shrugged. "What modesty? He's already half naked."
Gorjon's grin was all teeth.
Roxy floated closer, sweet voice sharpening. "Don't make me penalize you two."
Narshira popped another piece of fruit. "Excuse me, Roxy?"
"Hmm?" Roxy's attention flickered, like she'd heard something no one else could.
"Do you know Superstar Bram?"
Roxy wasn't looking at Narshira anymore. She wasn't looking at anyone.
"Umm... get back with me, okay," Roxy said too fast. "I have another situation brewing."
Roxy's holographic form condensed in less than a blink to the size of a pinprick and vanished.
The reception area of the Assembly Hall smelled like polished metal and nervous sweat.
A serve-tek lay crumpled like discarded paper; another rolling backward in panic, a metal bracelet held in its scoop-like appendage. It was fleeing a slim Pian woman stalking toward it like a predator. Roxy snapped back into full size, hovering between them.
"I left instructions for a mortal attendant to usher Superstar Avia when she arrived," Roxy said. "My apologies. Relax, please, our serve-tek is completely harmless."
Avia's eyes cut like blades. "They are abominations. So is that thing it wants me to put on."
"You will need to wear the omniband," Roxy replied, voice smooth. "It tracks vitals for spectators and is necessary for travel between-"
"I don't care," Avia snapped. "Even a little bit."
"You agreed to follow rules and regulations-"
Avia stepped closer. "Are you going to put them on me?"
Roxy lifted her hands in exaggerated helplessness. "Hello, incorporeal here. But I will disqualify Pia from the competition. Your fellow Pians will like you even more."
Avia's already ridged brow creased deeper and for a moment, it looked like she might attack the air out of spite. Then she stomped to the serve-tek, thrust out her extremely thin right arm, and the robot clamped the metal bracelet onto her wrist with trembling efficiency.
Roxy clapped, producing no sound. "See? Still alive."
Avia stormed off like rage was fuel.
Roxy turned to the obviously relieved serve-tek. "Is everyone here?"
The serve-tek's voice came out clipped, nervous. "No, madam. Superstars Kane, Claude, and The Dawn have yet to arrive. Delegates report The Dawn disappeared en route."
Roxy's expression went flat. "No matter what," she muttered, "it's always Humans and Dycordians. Always."
---
Deep underground, the air was damp, thick with the glow of slime coating the walls. The tunnels were wide enough for refugees, wide enough for soldiers, wide enough for lies.
The screech of death drove The Dawn to her knees. Kane stumbled back against the glow-slime wall, hands up to his ears, face twisted in pain. Claude yelled something Kane couldn't hear over the noise.
The Dawn crouched and drew a small circle quickly in the dust, symbols packed tight inside it. The sound ceased so suddenly it felt like losing a limb.
Kane lowered his hands, his mouth moved, yet no sound emerged. Claude pointed toward a tunnel mouth and made a walking motion with his fingers.
An old male Ksush shuffled into the cavern using two metal walking sticks. He held a case in his third hand. His smile widened when he noticed The Dawn's circle.
Then the ground tremored; rumbling rolled in like an approaching beast. The circle shifted.
The old Ksush's voice was smug and disappointed at the same time. "A Mage Style user. Magic has its uses, but is primarily for the weak, in my experience."
Kane forced a grin through the tension. "You look like you've racked up a million experience points, so we'll take your word for it."
Claude's eyes were steady. "What grief do you have with the people of Dycord?"
"That is not your concern."
Kane's gaze sharpened. "Got anything to do with stolen explosive material?"
The old Ksush, Fiaster, snorted. "Hmph. If you must know... for the public, including you and yours, to see the truth the Coalition has hidden from the galaxy, there needs to be a spectacle."
Claude's jaw tightened. "And blowing up the Tower of Laws, killing a million people, would do that?"
Fiaster shrugged. Then he was a blur. One second he was eight meters away, shuffling like age owned him. The next, he was three feet from Kane, swinging one metal walking stick in a wide arc.
Kane moved on instinct, quickening barely out of range as the cane buzzed through the air where his head had been. A stone slab rose between Kane and death, but the cane speared through it anyway.
Claude's outstretched hand twisted and the stone column veered ninety degrees, ripping the cane from Fiaster's grip.
Fiaster raised his remaining cane toward Claude and The Dawn.
"Move!" she snapped.
Kane didn't see the attack, but felt the air pressure change, like the cavern inhaled. He charged anyway, refusing to waste an opening.
Fiaster clapped his right and third hands together rapidly.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.
Sonic booms filled the cavern with white-hot noise. Kane felt it crawl up through his feet, into his bones, into his teeth. Rock and dirt began falling from above.
Claude's voice finally cut through: "Cave in!"
Kane bolted for the nearest tunnel as the world tried to collapse on him. Choking dust envloped him, the glowing slime dimmed. The Web turned eerie, muffled, like the planet itself was holding its breath.
When the rumbling stopped and Kane finally stopped coughing dirt out of his soul, he discovered he was alone. Boulders crowded the cavern entryway like a sealed tomb.
"You better not be in there, Claude," Kane rasped.
"I am fine, my friend," Claude's voice said, behind him.
Kane spun, startled into a fighting stance. Claude stood calm as clear weather, as if he'd stepped out of the stone.
"Glad you're alive," Kane snapped, "but where'd you pop up from?"
A second voice, dry, annoyed, came from behind him again.
"I'm alive too, if it matters, " The Dawn said.
Kane nearly fell over. "You two can teleport. Good to know. Teach it to me."
Claude's tone was almost gentle. "I did not teleport. I was one with the planet."
The Dawn's eyes were sharp. "Your Talent level is too small to teach even rudimentary magics."
Kane stared. "Nice."
He exhaled once, hard. "Anyway. That Boom Sonic is as powerful as I imagined."
The Dawn's gaze narrowed. "You know him?"
"What, you've never heard of the Soul Master of Sounds?" Kane said, incredulous. "Fiaster competed in Coalition Carnage forty years ago and almost won."
Claude blinked. "I have never heard of him, either."
The Dawn's expression didn't change. "So he's the Trust leader?"
Kane shrugged. "Hell if I know. He disappeared a while ago. Thought he was dead. One thing I do know? He's strong, and age doesn't seem to have weakened him."
Claude's eyes shifted like he was listening to the rock itself. "All we know is the Trust is down here. We must stop them."
"I'm in," Kane said, already moving. "Gonna cost the Dycordian government, though."
Claude started to speak, something about tracking soul signatures-
The Dawn cut him off with a flick of her fingers.
"I don't need these anchors holding me back. They'll get in the way."
White energy wrapped her body. And she flew down the tunnel into darkness.
Kane watched her vanish and muttered, "She's starting to annoy me."
Claude sighed, an old sigh, like childhood and responsibility lived in it. "Still. Should not let her go alone."
Kane rolled his shoulders. "If you weren't here to guilt me, I would. Let's go."
They ran.
---
Fiaster shuffled slowly through a dim tunnel deeper in the Web, his remaining cane clanking softly, boots scuffing along the rock.
"It's going as planned," he murmured, as if the planet was his confessional. "Alpha team is approximately ten kilometers east of the Tower. Beta and Gamma have the DDF running around these tunnels chasing shadows."
He paused.
"And Delta has just completed her mission."
He smiled to himself.
"I will tell the teams to withdraw," Fiaster continued, voice amused, "but I want to hang down here and have a bit of fun. Three Superstars playing hero..."
A pause, then, a soft chuckle. "Look. Calm down. I won't kill them. I know how important the Competition is."
Then, quieter, almost affectionate. "I just want to see what this generation can do."
---
Kane and Claude hit a branching path.
Two tunnels. Two sets of presences like distant heat signatures in the soul.
Kane frowned. "Which one?"
Claude's eyes narrowed. "I do not know."
"I thought you were tracking her."
"Not while she is in flight," Claude said. "Both directions have people."
Kane sighed like the universe personally offended him. "Fine. I'll go this way."
Claude nodded. "Yell if you run into trouble."
Kane grinned, already running north. "Will do."
He barely made it a dozen meters before he felt them.
Several presences, alert. Aware of him. Thugs clustered together, lucky for him. If they'd spread out, he might not have sensed them until it was too late.
Kane's wrist began to glow with silver energy. He smiled like someone about to enjoy themselves.
"Challenge accepted."
Beams of death snapped toward him. Kane bounced, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, never predictable, never still, Quickening flaring under his skin like a second pulse.
The corridor was thirty feet across, twenty feet of headspace, fine for moving refugees, terrible for dodging continuous energy streams.
Kane punched forward. The silver energy around his wrist shot ahead, expanding five times its size, into a ring. The lancer beams bent toward it like forced rainbows, the ring devouring them like a hungry mouth.
A mercenary's voice panicked. "Stop aiming at the circle, ya idiot!"
Another screamed, "I'm not doing it!"
The moment the beams ceased, the ring exploded in a blinding flash. The tunnel lit up: moss, slime, half-inch glow slugs doing their little errands, and six gunmen flailing as they tried to regain sight.
In that blink of brightness, Kane saw one of them clutching a small metal box. He didn't hesitate. He surged, Quickening output spiking.
"Nap time, gentlemen."
---
Claude moved differently.
He used wind like an extension of thought, propelling himself down tunnels in controlled bursts, fast, but not reckless. He eased up when he sensed nine souls ahead, likely Dycordian Defense Force.
When he reached them, his hands were raised and his identity proclaimed loudly before anyone's fear could decide to shoot. The squad leader looked at him like contempt was a religion.
"Maybe you should have switched to Guardian caste if you were going to get involved this much."
Claude's voice stayed calm. "I am only here to help. My friends and I encountered the suspected leader. He is a Ksush by the name of Fiaster, a former Superstar."
Surprise cracked through the squad leader's expression. "Did he reveal anything else?"
Claude hesitated. "Nothing of importance. I do not believe he intends to destroy any buildings or kill anyone."
A grumble rolled through the troops.
The leader's face darkened. "Four Mag-factory workers are hospitalized. Possibly over a million c-chips in damage. And they sent us a holoview proclaiming to blow up landmarks to make a statement. What evidence do you have?"
Claude met his eyes. "Merely a feeling."
The squad leader's jaw clenched. "That does it. Squad, move to the target area and set up a defensive position."
He turned back to Claude, venom in his gaze. "Mr. Superstar. You may think you're hot shit, but to me you're nothing but a glory hog. You will not win the competition. Get the hell out of these tunnels before I test your heart, boy."
Claude stood still as they ran past him. He turned and followed anyway.
---
The Dawn reached a cavern so wide it felt like the Web's belly. Ten exit tunnels yawned around the space like options for fate. The dust lay thick. Ambush territory. She hovered in the center, arms folded, expression bored.
"I'm waiting."
A screech hit the cavern, a high pitch wail, amplified into agony. The Dawn's hands flew to her ears. She crashed to her knees, writhing. Fiaster appeared behind her, like the punchline to the pain.
"Magicians!" he laughed. "You rely so much on spells and curses, you forget how to truly fight. Disabling you was simple enough. A Supreme, no less. Hah!"
The Dawn dragged herself upright, silver bangs trembling.
"I don't use magic as a crutch," she said, voice tight. "I use it as a means to an end."
Her eyes sharpened into a dare.
"Anyway, you use Soul Style. Might as well be magic. Stop the noise. Let's go hand to hand. No cheap tricks."
Fiaster's laugh sounded like a tree frog's mating call, wrongly joyful. But the noise ceased.
"Are you sure, youngling?" he asked. "I may have you by at least a hundred years. That means experience."
The Dawn rolled her eyes. "I'll manage."
Fiaster came in like a rocket, arms spread in a triangle, trying to grab her if she dodged. So she stepped forward and crescent-kicked him under the chin. Blood and teeth sprayed.
Before any of it could fall into her hair, she teleported behind him and drove her knee into his spine. He cursed and stomped, shaking the entire cavern.
The Dawn lost footing just long enough for him to recover.
"No magic, huh," Fiaster said, wiping blood from his mouth with a grin. "I've met Human females before. None were that strong."
The Dawn's smile was thin. "Yeah, and your old ass can move that fast without soul power. I've heard of the Quickening you soul bastards use. Shut up and fight."
She charged, twenty blows in ten seconds. Punches, kicks, knees, elbows. Street fighter violence tuned to a supernatural frequency.
Fiaster blocked each strike with three arms moving in tandem.
He pulled his walking stick from his clothing and swiped, forcing her back, then raised it overhead for a smash. A small gray brick wall snapped into existence between his cane and her skull.
The cane vibrated, carving gauges into it, then the cane shattered, sending pieces flying into Fiaster's body. He staggered but stayed on his feet.
The Dawn teleported behind him. He anticipated it, slashing a hand where he believed she'd appear. Ten feet too low.
She was above him, dropping like a meteor. He felt her descent and couldn't dodge. Her impact landed an inch from his body-THUNK-rock shivering from the force.
He countered with a backhanded fist that sent her crashing to the cavern floor.
"You almost had me," Fiaster said, breathing hard, grinning through blood. "These old bones would have shattered if not for my Aura Cloak. Or have you forgotten us soul bastards have that ability, too?"
A sudden gust of wind blew the dust away. The Dawn was already on her feet with no damage visible. She smiled, small, cruelly pleased. Without a word, she came in again.
Fiaster met her advance with a Boom Sonic.
The Dawn flew backward, kicked up dirt at her landing twenty meters away. Fiaster laughed for half a minute, as if it made him feel young again.
The Dawn's voice cut through it. "Are you done?"
Fiaster turned and froze. The Dawn stood behind him.
Shock flickered across his face. "Impossible. A Boom Sonic at that range should have put you down. Maybe there's merit to you after all," he admitted.
The Dawn shrugged. "Maybe."
Fiaster's grin sharpened. "Then it's time I took my leave. Sorry if you die."
He raised his hands. Wavy energy streamed from them into the cavern walls. The air vibrated with a dense hum, like the planet was singing a warning.
A force slammed into The Dawn's back and launched her toward a thin white line of energy emerging from the opposite wall.
A brick wall appeared, the thin line gouged deep in it, before it vanished.
She took to the air, a wave erupted from beneath her. She avoided it, then another. The near-invisible attacks came from all directions.
The Dawn teleported toward where she remembered Fiaster, and met another wave of sound.
It sliced into her leg, another thin line kissed her back. Blood spurted into the air. Fiaster stood near a tunnel deeper in the Web, eyes bright with satisfaction.
"You might have a little talent," he said, almost kindly, "but you need stronger magic if you intend to be taken seriously. Goodbye for now, youngling."
"Where you going?"
Fiaster jerked toward the voice-
Only to lean into a right hook that smashed what teeth he had left. His arms flailed as he skipped head over heels across the rocky floor and slammed into the far wall.
The booming stopped. The relentless attacks ceased. Dust made another appearance.
When it cleared, Dycordian Defense Force soldiers stormed into the cavern, startled by the unconscious Ksush at their feet.
Claude arrived with them, eyes sweeping the space until they locked onto The Dawn, emerging from the darkness.
"You get lost," The Dawn said, wiping blood that didn't seem to matter, "or were you waiting for me to finish up?"
Claude ignored the bite. "Are you injured?"
The Dawn pointed at the unconscious Fiaster with a smirk. "He thought I was. Illusions are the simplest form of magic. I hear even Earthlings can do 'em."
She glanced around. "Where's the other one?"
A voice came from behind her.
"Name's Kane. And I'm right here."
Kane stepped in holding one of the small metal boxes the mercenaries had carried. Weapons snapped up instantly.
"Hold it!" a soldier barked. "That's explosive material!"
"No it's not," Kane said.
He opened the box to reveal a small device with dials.
"This is all that was in here," Kane said. "And it doesn't fit Claude's description of magnite."
Soldiers examined it while the squad leader received a call.
"It is a device designed to mimic the same radiation signature as magnite," a soldier reported.
The squad leader's face twisted. "And so were the other two boxes found. We were played."
Fiaster, cuffed now, lifted his bloody mouth into a grin that went ear to ear. "We never stole a thing," he said.
Every weapon pointed at him.
"We just made you look like fools."
Claude stepped forward, voice low. "What was the point of this? What did the Trust hope to achieve?"
Fiaster shrugged. "I was kicked from the Trust years ago. Hired a group of mercs to embarrass the local government and show the Trust they can let me back in."
His grin widened.
"It was working too. Had you running around like the Magic Donkey Brothers."
The squad leader snarled. "Do you have his soul coal, soldier?"
"Yes, sir."
A soldier stepped up with a lump of red coal the size of a toddler's ball. Dull. Unremarkable. The squad leader hurled it against the cavern wall. It shattered into red crumbs.
Fiaster shrugged, still smiling. "I'm still tougher than you."
The squad leader stepped closer. "Let us find out."
A new voice cut through the cavern like a law given flesh.
"Now, now. Let no man say Dycordians treat prisoners unjustly."
A heavily muscled Dycordian strode in wearing shining gold armor. An exotic firearm at his hip and straight-edge sword strapped to his back.
As he passed, Dycordians bowed low.
Kane bent too. The Dawn didn't.
The squad leader stiffened. "My apologies, Lord Gilmesh."
The gold-armored Dycordian's mouth twitched. "We go by the law. All members and former members of the Trust undergo extensive interrogation."
He motioned, and two soldiers hauled Fiaster away. Because the old Ksush kept shuffling slowly, they were forced into carrying him, while he laughed.
Gilmesh turned to the trio.
"Now, for the reason I am here," he said. "The retrieval of three wayward Superstars."
Claude lowered his head. "Our apologies."
The Dawn cocked her head. "Who's this guy?"
Kane hissed, "Show some respect. That's the Lord of the Guardian caste."
Gilmesh's expression softened, just slightly. "It is fine, Kane. Nice to see you again." He looked at The Dawn. "But lord is not a title I like to go by. Call me Gilmesh, lovely visitor."
His gaze swept all three of them.
"And I am here to escort you to the Assembly Hall. It is time to showcase the stars of the show."
---
Roxy hovered before the Tower of Laws; open ceiling structure packed with a million people, their cheers rising like heat.
"And now," Roxy announced, "a special word from the rulers of Dycord and this year's Grandmasters, the Lords of Continent."
From Dycord's clear skies, three figures descended on rotating disks, the disks orbiting each other like choreographed planets, their hands toward the heavens.
The disks stopped a hundred feet above the ground, continuing to rotate so each Lord could address the masses. The crowd cheered until their throats should've bled. The Lords lowered their hands.
Jarrik, identified as Lord of the Govern Caste, spoke.
"On this day, a thousand years ago, a coalition between planets was established. To commemorate the historical event, the leaders of that time created the Coalition Carnage Competition. And we continue this wonderful tradition... for each and every one of you. I, Jarrik, can assure you this will be the greatest Coalition Carnage in history."
In the Assembly Hall's massive entrance corridor, Kane, Claude, and The Dawn walked beneath statues of races holding the sigils of their home planets.
Above the archway leading into the main hall, a hologram of the Papuru Star hung in glory, while off-world delegates watched via floor-to-ceiling holoviews. A serve-tek approached with armlets on velvet pillows.
The Dawn leaned forward, delighted. "Oh look at the cute serve-tek. I want one one day."
Kane leaned toward Claude and whispered, "Does she have multiple personalities or what."
The omnibands clicked onto their wrists. As the next Lord, Yemi of the Spirit Caste, spoke about faith and gods and blessings, their omnibands beeped-
Energy surrounded them and they vanished from the corridor. They reappeared high above the crowd on gravdisks, where the Tower of Laws ceiling would have been.
Claude stood two meters to Kane's left. To Kane's right stood a one-armed Dagon, staring down at the crowd like he was searching for someone he hated.
A female voice cursed softly somewhere among the disks. Below them, Gilmesh floated and spoke to the crowd.
"Victory or defeat, Superstars bleed and die for glory and the Blessing of their people and planet. We will never forget the sacrifices made by the chosen of the past, future, or present."
The seventeen disks descended, then spread outward in a widening circle until each Superstar hovered only a dozen meters from the silent crowd.
Gilmesh continued, voice steady, heavy with ceremony. "These Superstars will bear the hopes and dreams of each of you and deserve your affection."
The crowd erupted. The cheer was loud enough to be heard for miles, lasting a full two minutes.
When it finally quieted, Gilmesh lifted a hand.
"Becoming the victor, the Supernova, immortalized ninety-nine of your predecessors." His voice rose. "One of which has some encouraging words."
Between Superstars and audience, a face appeared, Human, blue-tinted eyes, smiling like he knew everyone watching.
The crowd screamed again. Kane cheered too, unable to stop himself. Claude smiled. But The Dawn's posture tightened, subtle as a blade being drawn.
The smiling face spoke.
"Hey. It's me, The Truth, here to offer congratulations to the new crop of Superstars. Get ready for the most extravagant moments of your lives and always remember: the child of the star shines bright, even at rise. And though it may seem eternal night approaches in its wake... the will of mortals will always usher in a new dawn. Good luck. And fear not."
The face vanished.
Kane turned to Claude, puzzled, and thrilled, simultaneously. Claude raised an eyebrow at Kane with a small smile.
The three Lords raised their arms and spoke in unison:
"Wisdom, strength, and faith we grant to each of you, to the end of time! Coalition Carnage has begun!"
The Lords and Superstars ascended out of view.
Roxy dropped into the feed with a grin that could move men to war.
"The first competition begins in one hour, carnies, so get those last minute bets in!"
---
Later, an empty corridor inside the Assembly Hall held Claude sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, calm as if the building's noise couldn't touch him. Kane walked up, breath still a little fast from being cheered at by a million strangers.
Claude opened his eyes. "What did she say?"
Kane frowned. "Couldn't find her. Soon as the ceremony was over, she must've teleported somewhere that's not the Assembly Hall."
Claude's gaze lowered, thoughtful. "Have you seen the matchups?"
Kane's grin returned, pure adrenaline. "Yep. You and I are up first."
Claude's mouth lifted into something that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't quite a warning. "Should prove fun."
"For me, at least," Kane said. "I'm going to win."
Claude's eyes held his, steady, affectionate, dangerous. "We shall soon see."