Kane (voiceover)

  My fav part about this competition, so far, is being reunited with my best bud, Claude.

  Kane Urasa and Claude of Styfe were relaxing in Kane’s opulent Super suite at the galaxy-renowned Papuru Inn, eating food delivered by room service. The suite was decorated in the blue-and-gold colors of the competition and included two bedrooms, a kitchen, relaxation quarters, and a game room. They had claimed the last one.

  Their feet were propped up in expensive Cy hoverchairs, and a ninety-inch holoview played an advertisement for the latest orb product in front of them. Kane ate his usual burger and fries, while Claude worked through a bowl of fruit, pausing occasionally to bite into a sweet-smelling rainbow melon. Their conversation was intense, hands moving as much as their mouths, neither willing to give ground.

  Kane (voiceover)

  I haven't had a genuine convo with someone I wasn't in a high stakes game of chance with, in a long time. With Claude, I didn't have to pretend to be some high roller, ladies man, or down on his luck rogue. Those personalities I save for opponents. Claude has known me since we were babies; seven years separation isn't enough to sever our bonds.

  “You are an idiot! No way Joppa would defeat Hellbent. Not even Will Lord Drax could beat such a beast.”

  Kane leaned forward in his chair. “Hold up, bro. Will Lord Drax can beat any and every Superstar.”

  “Drax only won because it was the first tournament; the galaxy was still young and power styles were a new commodity. If he had lived even two hundred years ago and he and Crango were in the Final Bout, Crango would win.”

  “Crango?!” Kane stared at him. “Are you kidding me? Do you even play holostar?”

  “No, I am not familiar with the game.”

  “Crango is the most useless piece on the board—”

  “That does not translate into actual ability, Kane. Be real.”

  “And Crango only won because there were no noteworthy Superstars that year.”

  Claude didn’t miss a beat. “I forgot you were there, so you would know.”

  Kane smirked. “I got a friend who hacked the Guilds’ database. Not one mention of any Superstars competing in the 80th Competition.”

  “Yeah…” Claude said after a moment. “I heard a few theories about that…”

  Kane (voiceover)

  We argue all the time, but Claude has my back, no matter what situation we in. This may be a one on one comp, but I have a feeling all the action to come won't be contained inside a geodome.

  Their discussion cut off when the theme music for Coalition Carnage blasted through the suite. A second later, Roxy’s pink hologram shot up into view above the holoview, moving fast enough to feel like she had been launched instead of projected.

  “Welcome back! Our next matchup have two unknowns butting heads, but first, we're going to our favorite Coalition Carnage Color Commentator, the one and only Grodin! What's going on, my Ksush?”

  Grodin’s image replaced Roxy’s, the background shifting to a small village square. “Don’t forget former host, Roxy. I’m here in the tiny village of Milanbery, located on the outskirts of the Zareil Kingdom. With no technology on Pia, how do the Pians keep up with the competition?”

  He gestured behind him with his third arm. Over fifty people sat before a makeshift stage. A red fabric curtain hung from stone pillars at both ends and dropped down behind a fog-glass floor that served as the stage itself. High above it, a man sat on a strip of the same red fabric, swinging back and forth like a restless child.

  Painted onto the curtain was an erupting volcano. On the stage floor, Pians wearing red clothing, or simply covered in red paint, wriggled behind scattered prop rocks, moving slowly to imitate lava. At the center of it all stood two performers: one dressed as Kane, the other as Claude. One held a bo staff. The other swung a white wooden sword at a pace far slower than the fight it was meant to represent.

  “They hold plays of the battles,” Grodin explained. “Right here in the village square. Let’s watch a live scene.”

  The man on the rope raised his arms dramatically, never losing his balance. “The Earthling’s attacks were wild and fierce, very uncoordinated. He was panicking, as Earthlings are known to do.”

  Kane straightened in his chair. “What the hell is this?!”

  Claude bit into a piece of fruit, clearly enjoying himself. “A rendition of our battle, apparently.”

  Onstage, the actor playing Claude spun his bo staff overhead and brought it down in front of him. Just offstage, a short, hairy marsupial swung fans in all four of its arms, sending gusts of wind across the platform. A Pian painted completely blue ran toward the Kane actor carrying wooden shapes meant to represent a tornado and a lightning bolt.

  “The Dycordian seized the advantage,” the narrator continued, “summoning tornados of wind and lightning. The Earthling had to flee the funnels of death.”

  Two more Pians emerged behind the Kane actor holding a large loop. The one carrying the tornado and lightning props leapt through it, rolled, and sprang to his feet. From the opposite side, another Pian, this one wearing fur and long ears, jumped through and began dancing in an exaggerated, ridiculous way.

  “In his fear,” the man declared, “he manifested a giant ring of light to absorb the tornados. A hare was then conjured, revealing the Earthling’s true inner self. He ran too much, instead of meeting his opponent and friend head on.”

  The Claude actor celebrated wildly, arms raised.

  “The Dycordian, believing himself victorious, celebrated prematurely,” the narrator said. “He believed his friend would honor the wager of men, made before witnesses and the gods. Alas, he lowered his guard.”

  The rabbit-costumed Pian charged the Claude actor, crashing into him and sending both tumbling to the floor. The Kane actor stood and began dancing.

  “Thus was brought down by the one he called friend,” the man concluded. “By one whose word meant nothing. And so, the first battle drew to a close.”

  The audience applauded. The performers bowed. The holoview refocused on Grodin.

  “They’re getting a faithful reenactment, in my opinion. I’m going to watch the rest of this. Back to you, Roxy.”

  Kane had already risen to his feet, staring at the holoview. “Faithful? When did I dance?! And Jack the Rabbit is an old cartoon I used to watch with my dad, not some inner subconscious.”

  Claude stayed relaxed. “This is nothing to get so upset over. I was not upset about you reneging on our deal.”

  “OMG. I apologized for that,” Kane shot back. “I have got to win this thing, Claude. Not for my benefit, but Earth’s.”

  “Deep breaths, Kane.”

  Kane dropped back into his chair, irritation still written across his face. “This is why I hate remakes. Creative liberties my ass.”

  As he spoke, the holoview split to show two new competitors. One was a Coojur, rolling happily through a bed of flowers. The other was a shell-backed Winsker, digging steadily into the earth beside a five-foot blue mushroom.

  Kane let out a long sigh. “Oh, this will be riveting. Why do they keep getting Winskers to compete? And what’s up with that Coojur? He’s chasing a butterfly.”

  Claude glanced down at his holopad. “The Winsker is called Crimson. The Coojur is Rampage. Codenames, obviously.”

  “Names that don’t fit,” Kane said. “The only rampaging that guy is doing is to those flowers.”

  Two silent holograms of Roxy floated down beside each competitor, clearly trying to prompt them into action.

  “A thousand years and they still haven’t figured out Winskers aren’t interested in fighting, just digging stuff up. They should be left out.”

  “Equal representation, Kane.”

  “Even if they don’t want it?”

  Rampage finally stood and walked calmly through the forest of mushrooms. Some were no taller than grass blades. Others towered like trees, glowing in colors that covered the entire spectrum. Crimson kept digging, his shell turned toward Roxy.

  “The SRC didn’t specify what Power Style Rampage uses,” Claude noted. “That, in itself, is unsettling.”

  “Thought so too. That’s why I put my money on him.”

  “Kane, it is forbidden for Superstars to place bets during the competition.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “I know. That’s why I use private bookies. Should I be saying this to a priest?”

  “Confession is good for the soul. Ask Gaia for forgiveness.”

  “Maybe later. Look, the Winsker—”

  “His name is Crimson.”

  “Whatever. He’s on the move.”

  Crimson burst into a run, tearing through the mushroom forest until he spotted the oddly named Rampage kneeling among yellow flowers. The split visuals collapsed into a single view as Kane switched between holoscopes, each angle showing Crimson closing the distance while Rampage lifted a tan-furred hand in a friendly wave.

  Roxy’s voice cut in. “Superstar Crimson charges Superstar Rampage, a look of rage upon his face! Superstar Rampage better be prepared to defend himself or he will be impaled on his aggressor’s shovel!”

  “NO ONE TOUCHES MY TREASURE!!!”

  The shout was loud enough to jolt both Kane and Claude upright. Crimson’s left eye glowed gold and fired a beam straight into Rampage’s chest. The Coojur screamed, body twisting in the mushroom grass.

  “A blast from Superstar Crimson crumples Superstar Rampage where he stood! Time to count. One… two… oh, he’s getting up. And he’s smiling.”

  “Bad move. You’re not going to like what’s coming.”

  Rampage’s eyes darkened, turning blood red. His whiskered face pushed forward into a canine snout. Fangs multiplied and lengthened. His slim, catlike frame thickened with muscle, growing taller until he stood over nine feet. Tan and brown fur darkened into black streaked with white.

  His whip-like tail shrank away, replaced by two leathery black wings tearing out from his back. They snapped open and flapped twice. Rampage’s red eyes locked onto Crimson, who stared back, frozen. The roar that followed shook the forest, twice as loud as Crimson’s earlier bellow.

  “Holy—”

  Rampage launched.

  One powerful beat of his wings sent him flying toward Crimson, talons stretched forward, jaws wide. Crimson slammed his shovel into the ground and heaved, throwing a massive wave of dirt, grass, and shattered mushrooms into the air. It barely slowed Rampage. He smashed into Crimson, driving both of them into a twenty-foot mushroom that burst into flames on impact.

  They tore straight through it, splitting the burning stalk in half and skidding across the green plain. The shovel handle jammed between Rampage’s teeth as Crimson flipped their momentum, slamming the creature onto its back and straddling it.

  “MY TREASURE!”

  Crimson raised the shovel triumphantly, clutching it like the prize he had sworn to protect. A massive fist smashed into him, launching him shell-first into a ten-foot mushroom crackling with electricity. The impact sent arcs of light snapping across his body before he collapsed to the ground, smoking.

  Rampage came again.

  This time, silver light flashed from Crimson’s right eye. It struck Rampage square in the torso. The creature roared in pain, clutching at his head as Crimson leapt onto his back and drove the shovel down into the base of his neck.

  “What am I looking at?” Kane said. “Is that Winsker using magic or something? He’s not supposed to be able to use Soul Style, right?”

  “Historically, something about mental capacity,” Claude said. “This Rampage though, remind you of a past Superstar?”

  “Hellbent.”

  Rampage shook violently, throwing Crimson off. He wrapped his arms around a tree-sized mushroom that instantly caught fire. The flames burned his flesh down to raw, bloody muscle, but he didn’t slow. He ripped the mushroom free and hurled it like a projectile.

  Crimson dodged as the burning mass sailed past him, the flames dying midair. He charged straight back toward Rampage without hesitation.

  “None of this is making sense,” Kane said. “He was a Coojur before.”

  “I have no knowledge of either culture having abilities such as these,” Claude said. “Rampage does look half Tarlkin now.”

  “And everybody knows Coojurs and Tarlkins get along like cats and dogs,” Kane said. “Oh, maybe Rampage is some forbidden love child between the two. That would be awesome!”

  “Possible, but unlikely,” Claude said. “At any rate, these two, after only a couple of minutes, have shown to be among the most formidable. We must be wary.”

  A sharp ping sounded from Kane’s holopad. He waved a hand over it, pulling up the image of a gray-haired Human with a strong jaw and deep lines carved into his face.

  “Mr. President. It’s an honor, sir.”

  “The honor is mine. Have you been watching the competition?”

  “Uh, yes sir.”

  “Tough group this year. How do you think you will fare?”

  Kane glanced back at the holoview. Magma now flowed through the battlefield, bending to Crimson’s will. Rampage, most of his fur burned away to exposed muscle, inhaled deeply. His chest expanded far beyond what should have been possible before he exhaled a stream of red flame. It slammed into the magma, the two forces grinding against each other.

  Kane turned back to the holopad, forcing a confident smile. “I can take them. No worries.”

  “That’s what I like to hear, Kane, my boy. Pay strict attention to this and the next match. Plan ahead and make Earth proud.”

  “I will, Mr. President.”

  “Good luck, my friend.”

  “Thank you.”

  The connection faded. Claude never looked away from the battle, and he didn’t see Kane’s smile fade with it.

  Kane (voiceover)

  I wasn't feeling as confident as I sounded. Claude was right about the level of competition. It won't be a breeze getting to the Finals. But it will be fun.

  Kane’s smile returned, steadier this time, as he watched the clash continue.

  ELSEWHERE

  In the Oval Office of the White House, President Julius Gilbert waved a hand and Kane’s image vanished. He leaned back in his chair and turned toward a row of hovering holographic heads, each labeled with the name of the sky country it represented. The first to speak was Olan Highland, Perceiver, his deep accent steady and dismissive.

  “He is posturing. He is outmatched and only just realized it now.”

  Ling Xi of Shangri-la followed without hesitation. “I concur. I still do not understand why you replaced Blair with this Kane fellow.”

  “He is going to fail,” Emma Weber of Endure said bluntly. “We can’t rely on such a youth in trying circumstances as these.”

  The face above the title Majesty shifted forward next. Jesse McDonald spoke calmly, though Gilbert wished he would choose this moment to stay silent. “I’m not as unsure of Kane’s prowess as you three. I’ve seen him in action. He fought Blair and won. Despite that, I believe we should increase production of heligium.”

  Jerry Lake of Utopia cleared his throat. “That is risky. If you believe in Kane, let’s wait until the Finals before deciding on that.”

  “Majesty can’t wait,” McDonald replied. “We only have around four hundred days of heligium left.”

  Baruch Amur, Kingdom President, joined in. “We have one hundred days more than them. Jesse is right. If Quil continues raising prices every year, heligium will soon be out of Earth’s price range. We either produce it ourselves or stockpile it now while prices are still manageable.”

  “I spoke with our handlers earlier,” Gilbert said. “They are unwilling to compromise.”

  “They are banking on our ability to produce the heligium,” McDonald said.

  “I do not appreciate the term handler,” Highland said.

  “What else do you call a person a president would answer to?” Lake asked.

  “Either way,” McDonald said, “they only care for themselves and their own personal power. If we fell out of the sky, they probably already have contingency plans to save themselves and their families. We were elected by the people of Earth. We owe it to them to ensure survival.”

  “It is why we should not have replaced Blair,” Xi said.

  “Forget about Blair,” Lake replied. “What’s done is done. I agree with Jesse that we need a plan B regardless of Kane’s outcome. But increasing production is not the answer. Heligium is dangerous enough when handled correctly. Rushed production—”

  “Then we appeal to Quil,” Weber said. “The Finan are greedy, and certain officials can be bought.”

  “I was thinking the same,” Gilbert said. “The Harvas family will represent Quil during the Dycordian visit. Jesse and I will approach them.”

  “Why McDonald?” Highland asked.

  “I might be able to learn more about their heligium production, if the price is right,” McDonald said. “I am to try.”

  “Our handlers will not be pleased if they learn of this,” Amur warned.

  “What are they going to do?” McDonald asked. “Kill us?”

  Silence followed.

  “No,” Gilbert said finally. “That would draw attention to plans they would rather keep hidden. But they can make our lives difficult, so we proceed carefully. Until then, be safe, and go with God.”

  MEANWHILE

  Back in the suite, Kane and Claude continued watching the battle, Roxy’s voice rising with excitement.

  “These two big beef sons of bitches are going all out now! The Fungi Forest has been terraformed by their encounter!”

  The battlefield was unrecognizable. Mushrooms lay crushed, burned, and scattered, the ground split and blackened like the aftermath of a violent quake. Rampage, his skin fully healed and fur growing back, scanned the ruined forest.

  “Where’d he go?” Kane asked.

  “Underground,” Claude said.

  “Of course. I’m an idiot.”

  Crimson erupted from beneath Rampage, driving his shovel straight into the creature’s chest. Rampage growled and wrapped his massive arms around him.

  “Despite the mortal injury, Superstar Rampage was able to apply a bearhug!” Roxy shouted. “I think I can hear Superstar Crimson’s shell cracking!”

  Smoke poured from Rampage’s nostrils. His mouth opened wide.

  “It’s over now.”

  Deep red fire blasted from Rampage’s mouth, engulfing Crimson and his own arms. When Rampage released him, his arms were burned down to white bone, and Crimson stood motionless, wreathed in flame. The fire flowed back into Crimson’s mouth. He swallowed it whole and belched black smoke.

  “Now that was unexpected,” Claude said.

  “I’ve seen something like that before.”

  Crimson unleashed both gold and silver beams, forcing the beast backward as it howled.

  “Superstar Crimson is mounting a comeback!” Roxy cried. “Those rich looking rays of light have Superstar Rampage about to fall!”

  “Maybe he’s not really a Winsker,” Kane said. “Maybe he’s some Liv-Tek model or something.”

  “No,” Claude said. “They have safeguards against that.”

  “Safeguards can be compromised.”

  “I do know that.”

  Rampage swung wildly, fists the size of hovercars smashing into the air. His wings beat hard, lifting him briefly before he slammed back down. The entire geodome shifted, the image tilting for viewers across the galaxy.

  Crimson stumbled. Rampage landed a brutal punch, snapping the mole face back. Another strike launched the Winsker into the geodome wall, which hurled him straight back. The creature swatted him aside, sending him crashing into another massive mushroom. Electricity surged and faded, leaving the shelled humanoid face-down in the dirt.

  “A bone-shattering combo off the geodome! Amazing!” Roxy shouted. “One… two…”

  Rampage leapt into the air for the finishing blow, then vanished mid-strike as the showrunners teleported him away.

  “…nine… ten! Winner of Battle Seven, Superstar Rampage!”

  “That was informative,” Claude said.

  Kane stared at the holoview in silence.

  Kane (voiceover)

  Sometimes, I wonder if entering this competition was worth the mental anguish that goes along with it. Going to alien worlds, fighting powerful beings, learning Soul Style, it all adds up fast. My mother warned me not to go looking for revenge. I should have listened.

  “Still think you can win?” Claude asked.

  Kane (voiceover)

  I smile at my friend, who didn’t seem at all worried about facing challenges like that. His confidence helped inflate my own.

  “Damn right.”

  Claude laughed, and they bumped fists. Time passed quickly as they talked through what they had seen. When they finally paid attention again, Roxy was selecting the next geodome. A frozen wasteland appeared on the holoview.

  “It’s the staple of Mirrgrif, the Battle of Souls,” Roxy said. “The site of a decisive war between two races, and now another meeting of warring Superstars. These two have met before in Coalition Carnage history. It’s the final battle of the day. Superstar Ramza versus Superstar Nor!”

  “That’s it,” Kane said, snapping his finger. “Now I know where I saw that fire-eating technique Crimson used earlier.”

  “I do too,” Claude said, nodding. “It’s been ten years since we’ve seen him. I forgot about him.”

  “Me too.” Kane frowned at the holoview. “The Godsend. We just watched a Winsker use the Godsend.”

  A handsome man appeared on the holoview, hair flowing, muscles taut, his presence calm and overwhelming at the same time.

  “The same Godsend as our resident deity.” Kane exhaled slowly. “Can you believe that on top of everything else, we have to fight a god?”

  “At least it’s a god we know.”

  Yeah.” Kane leaned back in his chair, eyes still on the holoview. “A decade ago. The question is, can a god improve on perfection?”