The holographic display shimmered in front of me, projecting the stats of my next performance. My smile, perfected over ten thousand selfies, didn’t waver. But internally? I was bored.

  I leaned back in my custom, diamond-stitched gaming chair. On the screen to my left, my live chat scrolled in a torrent of pink hearts.

  “Bǎo doesn’t lie to you,” I said, my voice a whisper. “Bǎo cares. That’s the difference between me and every other ‘influencer’ on this rock. They want your views. I,” I placed a hand over my heart, the polished chrome of my cybernetic fingers glinting under the studio lights, “I want you to be your best, most beautiful self. Even if it hurts your feelings.”

  I took a delicate sip from a glass of my branded sparkling water. My streaming room was my sanctuary all plush white carpets, neon accent lighting, and shelves displaying my most iconic weapons, each meticulously cleaned and accessorized. Starlight Breaker, my jewel-encrusted energy blade, rested on a stand behind me like a religious icon.

  “But enough about the fashion victims,” I purred, shifting seamlessly back into my bubbly idol persona. “Let’s talk about the actual victims. The Bronze Tier leaderboard is looking a little… stale. Don’t you think?”

  “It’s all muscle and no magic, darlings. No artistry. It’s like they’ve never heard of a cohesive aesthetic.” I scrolled through the profiles with a flick of my wrist, my lip curled in a performative sneer. “But then… I heard a little rumour.”

  I leaned forward, the camera zooming in on my face. My heart-shaped sunglasses hid my eyes, but my smile was all the preview anyone needed.

  “There’s a new little problem crawling out of the gutter. Calls himself Dust.” I let the name hang in the air, dripping with contempt. “And apparently, he’s on a winning streak. Can you imagine? Dust. It’s not a name, that's just literally floating trash.”

  The chat exploded. They loved when I targeted new rivals. It was our version of a celebrity feud.

  “He fights like a rat, from what I’ve seen. All hit-and-run and… dirt clouds.” I shuddered, a full-body motion designed to convey maximum disgust. “It’s an affront. To me. To you. To beauty itself. So, I’ve decided.”

  I paused for dramatic effect, taking another sip.

  “The Diamond Doll is issuing a public challenge. Bǎo is going to clean up the Association. Literally. I’m going to wipe the floor with this Dust bunny. And I’m even letting him pick the arena.” I giggled. “On one condition, of course. He has to make sure it’s spotless. An idol cannot perform in a pigsty.”

  I signed off with a wave and a promise of carnage, cutting the stream to the sound of my fans’ digital screams. The moment the camera light died, my smile vanished. I opened the Association notification fully.

  TARGET: DUST. SILVER TIER. BOUNTY: STANDARD TIER-PROMOTION PACKAGE + SCORE INCREASE.

  MISSION PARAMETERS: PUBLIC SPECTACLE AUTHORIZED. LIVE-STREAM REVENUE: 65% TO ASSASSIN.

  The location details pinged into my console an hour later. An abandoned granite quarry. Sterile, grey, and according to the attached note from Dust himself "swept." How adorably earnest. He probably used that sad little poncho as a broom. The time was set for noon tomorrow. Perfect lighting. The natural spotlight of the sun would make my complexion glow. My stylist should meet me there for touch-ups. I summoned my private hover-limo with a thought.

  “To the Sakura District,” I commanded the AI. “The new ‘Blood Moon Couture’ collection launches today. Bǎo has a collaboration to promote.”

  The ride was smooth, silent. I scrolled through my live-feed, where clips of my challenge were already going viral. #DiamondVsDust was trending. My fans were doing their part, flooding Dust’s sparse social media presence with screenshots of my best looks and mocking comments. But nestled among the fawning praise were the real gems the intelligence reports from my devoted followers.

  Little Bob: CONFIRMED IT! Dust spotted at the old air-dock training grounds. Running wind-sprints for HOURS.

  Jobbing Reversal: Piggie is taking this SO seriously. My friend saw him practicing his knife throws. So tryhard.

  Vegetable Blue: I just saw someone choke out Bigfoot online. Type 1 if you believe me.

  Boss Bolin: He’s studying your old fights! He’s scared!

  I smirked. Of course he was. He was a grubby little Silver Tier. He had to prepare. He had to try. I, on the other hand, had to decide between the leopard-print combat Pantsuit with the detachable fur collar or the holographic mini-dress that shifted colours with my mood. Decisions, decisions. The limo glided to a halt outside the most exclusive boutique on the Island. The manager was waiting, bowing profusely.

  “Ms. Lin! An honour! The entire collection is reserved for you.”

  Two hours later, I was standing on a pedestal, surrounded by mirrors and assistants. I’d chosen the pantsuit. Aggressive yet chic.

  A final notification came through. Not from the Association. From my financial tracker. The pre-fight merchandise sales limited edition “Dust Buster” t-shirts and “Clean Sweep” energy drink co-branding had already cleared six figures. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

  The quarry was even more bleak than the holograms had suggested. A vast, sterile bowl of grey stone under a merciless sun. And in the centre, rising like a forgotten altar, was the arena Dust had chosen: a single, monolithic granite platform, fifty feet high with sheer drops on every side. No rails. No safety nets. Just a long, brutal way down. Dramatic, I had to admit. The boy had a primitive sense of theater. He understood the stakes, even if his presentation was pathetic

  My limo touched down at exactly 12:17 PM. I’d calculated the delay perfectly. Not so long as to be insulting just long enough to be memorable. The sun was directly overhead, a blazing white coin in a cloudless sky. No shadows. Perfect, even lighting. My complexion was going to look immaculate. I made a show of adjusting my heart-shaped sunglasses as I stepped out, my new leopard-print pantsuit stark against the grey landscape. A faint hum of drones filled the air my personal camera crew, broadcasting every angle to my paying subscribers.

  Dust was already there, of course. A small, brown stain standing in the exact center of the platform. I could feel his impatience from here. I took the long, winding path up instead of using my thrusters. Let him wait. Let the anticipation build. Every click of my heel on the stone was a drum-roll. When I finally reached the top, I paused at the edge, letting the wind his wind catch my hair. I took a deep, theatrical breath.

  “Apologies for the delay, darling,” I called out, my voice sweet as synthetic honey. “Bǎo’s eyelash adhesive was being uncooperative. You understand. Some of us have standards to uphold.”

  He didn’t move, but his shoulders tightened. I saw the serrated dagger in his hand still. The constant scrape-scrape of his sharpening stone had stopped.

  “Standards,” he repeated, his voice a low gravelly thing, wasted on the clean air. “Is that what you call it? I call it vanity. A deadly flaw.”

  I took a few graceful steps forward, closing the distance. The stone underfoot was, as promised, swept clean. I’ll give him that. He was a man of his word, however grimy.

  “Vanity is just self-respect with a better budget,” I countered with a tinkling laugh. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand the concept of a budget. Or self-respect. That poncho looks like it budgeted for a funeral. Its own.”

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  His eyes, those deep-set, tired things, finally met mine. A flicker of annoyance. Good.

  “You talk a lot for someone who’s never gotten her hands dirty,” he said, a smirk tugging at his dirty lips. “Zero kills. That’s what the record says. You’re a tourist with a rich daddy.”

  The insult was blunt. Crass. I kept my smile perfectly in place, but my fans would see the subtle tightening around my eyes. The Diamond Doll does not appreciate being called a tourist.

  “And you’re a gutter rat on a winning streak,” I replied, my voice losing its musicality, becoming sharp and precise. “But every rat eventually meets the exterminator. I just hope the fall doesn’t make too much of a mess. This outfit is new.”

  We stood there, twenty feet apart on that high, lonely stage. The sun beat down. The drones circled. The air crackled with pure, undiluted hatred. He shifted his weight, a cloud of fine dust puffing from his poncho. I rested a hand on the hilt of Starlight Breaker, feeling its cool, ready hum. For a long second, there was only the whistle of the high-altitude wind and the hum of my energy blade.

  "Let's not keep my audience waiting, piggie," I sang out, and lunged. It wasn't a real attack. It was a probe. A theatrical, sweeping slash with Starlight Breaker meant to look powerful but was deliberately slow. I wanted to see his speed up close. He didn't disappoint. As the pink energy arc cut toward him, he simply wasn't there anymore. A gust of wind kicked up gravel, and he blurred to my left. His boot scraped the stone as he landed, his serrated dagger lashing out toward my ribs. I let the dagger connect. It screeched against my cybernetic side, leaving a bright silver scratch on the chrome. A gasp went up from my live-feed probably a mix of horror and delight. I stumbled back with an exaggerated wince, my free hand flying to the "wound.

  "Ow! You... you scratched the finish!" I whined, letting my voice pitch high and panicked. Play the vain fool. Make him confident.

  A flicker of contempt crossed his face. "That's the least of your worries." He came again, a brown phantom. This time, I brought Starlight Breaker up in a clumsy, panicked block. Our weapons clashed the shriek of energy against serrated steel. He was strong, his movements efficient and brutal. He wasn't trying to overpower me; he was testing my guard, looking for a gap. He fights like a surgeon. A dirty, back-alley surgeon.

  I let him push me back, step by step, toward the edge of the platform. My fans were screaming in my ear. I let my breathing become audible, a little ragged. Just a spoiled girl in over her head. He disengaged, leaping back with another gust. He landed, and I saw the shift in his posture. The probing was over.

  "Time to clean this up," he muttered, not to me, but to himself.    He raised a hand, palm open. The still air of the quarry began to stir. Not a gentle breeze, but a focused, churning vortex around his feet. Loose stone, dirt, and of course dust spiralled upward, growing thicker and darker. A massive dust tornado erupted from the spot, roaring across the platform toward me. In seconds, the world vanished into a choking, brown fog. The brilliant sun was snuffed out. My drones would be blind. My fans would see only a swirling, impenetrable cloud. Perfect. I heard his voice, echoing from everywhere and nowhere.   "Can't look pretty if no one can see you."

  I stood still, letting the grit pelt my skin and pantsuit. Ugh. This is going to be a nightmare to clean. But inside my skull, my cybernetic optical implants were already compensating. Thermal overlay. Motion tracking. The brown fog resolved into a wireframe grid. And there he was, a shimmering heat-signature circling me silently, thinking he was invisible. Oh, darling, I thought, a real smile touching my lips for the first time. Bǎo can certainly see you. I raised Starlight Breaker and pretended to swing wildly at nothing.

  "Where are you?!" I shrieked, injecting a perfect note of terrified confusion into my voice. "This isn't fair! Fight me properly!"

  I heard his soft, confident footsteps closing in behind me. Right where I wanted him. Of course. Let's continue the fight, escalating exactly as planned. I kept up the act, spinning around wildly, Starlight Breaker cutting uselessly through the dense cloud. "You coward! Face me!"

  His heat signature was right behind me now. He wasn't even rushing. He thought I was helpless. I felt the air around my head change. The invisible pressure clamped down on my throat. I began my performance, dropping my sword and clutching my neck, staggering back with a gurgle. But he didn't move in for the kill immediately. His voice echoed softly through the swirling dust, calm and strangely hollow.

  "You think this is dirty?" he said. "This is nothing.”

  I kept gagging, selling the act, but my cybernetic ears recorded every word. A confession from the dust.

  "My clan’s all gone now. Because honour is a fairy tale for dead men." His voice hardened. "The world isn't a stage for your pretty little performance. It's a gutter. And you fight to survive it. You use every advantage. You end fights before they're even fights. That's the only law that matters."

  The pressure on my throat tightened slightly. He was monologuing. How classic. How tragic.

  "So don't you dare look down on me from your chrome tower," he snarled, his composure cracking. "This 'dirt' is what kept me alive while my honourable family rotted in the ground!"

  It was all the explanation I would ever get. And it was all I needed to hear. A sob story to justify being a grubby little nuisance. I waited until his footsteps resumed, closing the final distance. He was close enough now that I could see the grim satisfaction on his dirty face through the thermal haze. Then I stopped gurgling, my hands dropped from my throat

  "Boo," I said, my voice perfectly clear and steady. "Cute story. But Bǎo prefers a happier ending."

  His heat signature flared with shock. I pivoted and my hydraulic-powered kick sent him flying backward, the dust cloud dissolving as he tumbled across the stone. Sunlight flooded the arena again. My drones zoomed in as Dust skidded across the stone, clutching his ribs. I looked at him, brushing a speck of dust from my pantsuit.

  "Tsk. You got dirt on me." My voice was no longer a silly girl's. It was cold, analytical. The Diamond Doll was done playing. "Your little wind tricks are cute. But my body cost more than your entire bloodline. Did you really think choking me would work?"

  He pushed himself to his feet, his eyes wide with a mixture of pain and fury. The calm, collected duellist was gone. I'd successfully made him angry. He screamed and charged, not with wind-assisted grace, but with raw, reckless rage. He swung his daggers in a wild flurry. It was sloppy. Predictable. I sidestepped, easily avoiding the attacks.

  "Now, now. Temper, temper."

  I reached down and calmly retrieved Starlight Breaker

  "Bǎo thinks it's her turn."

  I lunged, this time for real. My movements were a blur of precision and power. He tried to block, but my strength overwhelmed him. I knocked one dagger from his hand, then the other. They clattered off the edge of the platform, falling fifty feet to the quarry floor below. He was disarmed. Panting. Backed toward the edge. The fight was over. He was finished. Disarmed. Backed against the sheer drop. The look in his eyes was pure, impotent rage. It was almost boring.

  "See, piggie?" I said, levelling Starlight Breaker at his chest. The pink energy hummed a victory song. "Clean, efficient, and most importantly, my hair is still perfect. Any last words for my subscribers?"

  He spat on the ground, a pathetic, gritty glob near my boot. Then, with a final, desperate surge, he didn't try to run. He kicked a cloud of fine, abrasive dust right into my face and at the glowing blade of my weapon. It was a child's move. A loser's move. I flinched, not from pain, but from sheer disgust. The grit scratched against my optical implants, making my vision flicker for a nanosecond

  But worse, far worse, was the sound. A sharp fizz-crackle from Starlight Breaker. That enhanced dust, superheated by the energy field, had fused to the blade's central jewel, cracking it and leaving a ugly, blackened scuff across its perfect surface. Time stopped. The scratch on my chrome was one thing. This… this was vandalism. This was a crime. Something in my mind snapped. The cool, calculated persona of The Diamond Doll shattered. A low, guttural sound escaped my lips. It wasn't a word. It was pure, unfiltered fury. My perfectly curated smile vanished, replaced by a rigid, terrifying snarl.

  "YOU… FILTHY… ANIMAL!"

  I didn't lunge. I erupted. I dropped the now-desecrated Starlight Breaker and closed the distance in an instant. My hands, these expensive, precision-engineered marvels, became brutal clubs. I didn't care about technique. I didn't care about distance. I wanted to break him. I slammed a fist into his gut. The air left his lungs in a whoosh. Before he could double over, my other hand grabbed his poncho and hurled him sideways, away from the edge. I wasn't done with him. He wasn't getting the easy way out.

  He tried to summon a gust of wind to escape. A pathetic breeze puffed out. I swatted his hand aside, the bones in his wrist cracking under the force. He cried out. The sound was like music. I was a whirlwind of chrome and rage. A punch to the jaw. A kick to the knee that bent it the wrong way. It was brutal. It was messy. It was everything I hated. And then, it was over. He lay in a broken heap, unconscious, bleeding onto the clean stone.

  I stood over him, my chest heaving. My pantsuit was smudged with dirt and a tiny speck of his blood. My hands were stained. I looked… common. The red haze cleared from my vision. I heard the frantic, shocked chatter from my live-feed. I looked down at my dirty hands, then at the pathetic nearly dead form of Dust. A slow, wide smile spread across my face. It wasn't my usual idol smile. This one was sharper. More dangerous. I turned to the nearest drone, smoothing my hair back into place with a slightly trembling hand.

  "And that, my darlings," I said, my voice returning to its bubbly, melodic tone as if nothing had happened, "is how a disgusting, angry gorilla would fight. So uncivilized! But sometimes, you have to speak a language even the gutter rats can understand." I laughed, a light, airy sound that rang false in the sudden quiet. "Bǎo was just demonstrating! Now, someone call the clean-up crew. And my stylist. This outfit is absolutely ruined."

  As I turned to leave, a new notification pinged in my ear, separate from the stream. A bounty alert. High priority. I scanned it.

  TARGET: ARATA TANAKA. STATUS: HOMELESS. BOUNTY: HIGH.

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