Five months ago..

  “Did you see what Vellin did to Lucas?” a patron at the tavern asked, voice pitched loud enough to ride the room. I sipped from my cup, fingers fumbling, trying to let it slide. But the laughter carried; the bar had no mercy for rumor.

  His friend leaned in, eager for the story. “You mean the Burnout Tournament, right? From what I heard, Vellin cut off his arm. That’s what he gets for acting like he’s above it all.”

  Those idiots hadn’t seen half of it. They hadn’t watched the way the crowd went quiet the moment my fist landed. They didn’t know the small things, the tiny human decisions that tear people apart.

  The patron took a greedy bite of steak and chewed thoughtfully. “I wonder what he’s going to do now. Who would even hire him?”

  I stood. Making my presence known was the point. The room stiffened. Faces turned. Conversation fell into knife-silent surprise.

  I walked to his table. The man’s hands rose in instant apology. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were here!”

  His friend turned. I backhanded the first man into the wooden wall so hard his teeth rattled. The patron shrieked, clutched his face. I punched him in the face again, holding back what could have been a killing blow. He crumpled to the floor, blood slicking his lips. The bar erupted into a chaos of shouts, but I walked out before the room could swallow me. My left arm, the one that used to be mine, ached in a way that never left.

  Four months ago..

  I found a cave not far from Mas Kuli, a sliver of stone that smelled of damp and was warm enough to sleep in. There I bought slabs of darksteel with every coin left in my pouch and set it up as my altar.

  I punched the darksteel until my knuckles shredded. Reinforced Fist or not, the metal barely dented. Hands bled. Bones cracked. Every impact taught me something, the way pain ran across tendon, the way shock traveled through bone, the exact angle that made fiber yield.

  Strength wasn’t enough. Transcendence wasn’t given, it was taken by force of will and of body. So I kept at it. I ate ration cakes, slept on cold stone, and woke and punched again. I had twenty darksteel plates stacked like a ladder against the cave wall. I hammered them one by one until something inside me snapped into place. The prize was transcendence. If I was going to have vengeance, I would make my fist unbreakable.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Money ran thin. I had nearly none. But out here, in the middle of everything and nothing, coin meant less than dirt. I had food for months. I had the plates and the darksteel. I had time. That was enough.

  Two and a half months ago..

  The day the fifth plate gave way was the kind of moment a man remembers even when he forgets everything else. I wrapped my arm in Reinforced Fist, drove my weight into the blow, and heard the metal fracture through five layers. Pain arced across my body, but with it came a different sensation, raw and unfamiliar. A surge. Not the old ache I had carried for months, but a current of something else, something that rewired my limbs with a furious efficiency.

  I roared until the valley echoed it back. My voice shook trees. For miles they could feel it. I had become something different that day. The birth of a new transcended.

  Two months ago..

  Hal punched me in the right arm, testing me. Not in malice, but to measure. I barely felt it. He rubbed the knuckles of his own hand with a low, surprised whistle. “I was shocked that you wanted to meet up. Now I see why. You haven't just grown a few inches, you’ve transcended.” he said, voice low and a touch awed.

  “How do you still get jobs after running away from Zion like that?” I asked.

  Hal’s shoulders tensed. “Nobody should, could, and would blame me for that. I fought my heart out, and even let the beast take over.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever. I wanted to meet to test my power, and to ask where you got that concoction. Surge, they call it?”

  Hal glanced to the south, eyes hard. “I got it in Chatna, from my old friend Kanglim. He knows Ryuha, and got me some.”

  Hal pointed west, toward Sun's roads. “I could sense your rage from here. You want revenge.”

  My breath evened. “Vellin Cardaire will die by my hand.”

  Hal placed his hands on his hips and gave a shallow laugh. “Good luck. He has quite a repertoire after his transcendence.”

  I pushed off into the road. “I don’t need luck. I just need power.”

  One month ago..

  The room stank of tobacco and new coin. Ryuha sat next to Kanglim, a slick grin on his face that never seemed to reach his eyes.

  “Why should I give you some? What will you do for me?” Ryuha asked, eyes flat.

  I leaned in, voice hard. “I know you want to make Surge available for the non transcended. I will go to the Great Forest of Pahn, and test it on the Hatchahuk for you.”

  Ryuha’s gaze sharpened. Something like hunger crossed his face. “A fool like you has no idea how to run tests. I’ll have to step in.”

  Kanglim yawned, bored and slow. “We’re really doing this?”

  Ryuha flicked a finger at him. “This kid’s got motive.” He folded his hands, and a table of tools slid into view from a shadowed alcove — vials, syringes, powder sacks. “I’ll give you different potencies. We need test subjects. Those tribes are isolated. Their physiology and strength is... ideal.”

  Ryuha opened a stout case and set out equipment. He smiled without warmth. “I’ll give you enough to poison the entire Hatchahuk tribe. For you, boy, I’ll give the Alpha grade.”

  Kanglim shrugged, unconcerned. “Ryuha will send you an instruction manual. Don’t fail us.”

  Ryuha didn’t care if it burned lifespans, he cared that it worked, that it taught him the precise numbers he needed.

  II remembered my missing arm, the nights in the cave, the plates, the pain. I folded my hands beneath the table and thought.

  After I poison the Hatchahuk and finish these tests, I’m coming straight to Grand Sasebella and killing you, Vellin.