“Evange… I’m going crazy here. I need my phone. I hunger for it. Where did you put it?”

  Evantra tried to bite down her smile as Emily complained, whining to her best friend, clinging to Evangeline. Her mother just stared flatly as Emily began to slowly shake her in a vain attempt to persuade her to return her device.

  “I know how you get. Surfing those… forums. You want to stop overthinking? No phone.”

  “But I want to text Jung—”

  Evangeline rolled her eyes, and Evantra bit down her smirk, enjoying the fact that for once, someone apart from her was on the receiving end of her mother’s ire.

  “Way ahead of you. He should be here in fifteen to twenty.”

  “Ok, I lied, I want to watch cat videos, please? They calm me.”

  “Meow.”

  Evantra coughed away a laugh as she watched her mother give her friend a sardonic stare, before meowing in her friend’s direction. Emily took it in stride.

  It’s at times like this… I feel like we would actually get along. Like there’s an actual human in there underneath all of those fucking bible verses. She’s so different to how she is with me.

  If only she’d stop preaching at me whenever she thinks I step out of line.

  Did she really smoke? Dad must be messing with me.

  Evantra shook her head, and the mystery of Evangeline’s extraction of Emily’s phone having been solved, Evantra needed to find an opportunity.

  The match is starting any moment now. I just need to get the code…

  Then she caught Emily staring at her.

  More specifically, the pregnant lady was staring at her jean pocket.

  At the phone that was just barely jutting out of it.

  Crap.

  “Hey Evangeeee…”

  Evantra’s mother rolled her eyes as they fell on her friend beside her.

  “I’m craving your special yoghurt bowl. Will you make it for me? Pretty please?”

  Her mother frowned, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she peered at Emily, who was comically pursing her lips in an attempt to sway her.

  “Looks like pregnancy changes people. Fine,” then she paused, staring carefully at her friend.

  “Dairy free?”

  “You bet.”

  Evangeline nodded begrudgingly as she walked into the kitchen. Evantra heard the sounds of her mother opening the fridge, readying some fruit to assuage her friend’s “cravings”.

  “Psssssst. Kid.”

  Emily stared conspiratorially at Evantra.

  “I know that look in your eyes. I’ll cut you a deal. You must have my phone for some reason. I’ll give you the code, and once you’re done with it, you give it back to me, ok?”

  Evantra’s lips slowly upturned into a smile, and she shot a quick look towards the kitchen. Her mother seemed to be busy in her preparations – most likely preparing some food for all of them.

  “Deal.”

  She’s just overreacting again. How bad could letting Emily read a couple of angsty forum threads really be?

  “0000.”

  Evantra stared at the pregnant woman who uttered the words seriously, her eyes darting towards the kitchen.

  “Shoo. Remember the deal.”

  Emily shifted and groaned as she rubbed her tummy, prompting Evangeline to dart out of the kitchen from right around the wall. Evantra slipped the device into her pocket just barely in the nick of time.

  “You ok, Em?”

  Emily gave her a thumbs up as the discomfort on her expression slowly eased. Taking advantage of her mother’s momentary distraction, Evantra slowly got up, casually walking towards the bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she excitedly sat on the edge of the bathtub, opening up the streaming app and clicking the stream at the very top of the home page.

  “Distinguished ladies and gentlemen of purgatory… tonight, you watched the birth of an Archangel, with Uriel herself showing her why she deserves her title. Using only the twin pistols in her hands, the striga and the youguai were no match for our [lich] ranked Ghostslayer. A round of applause for Uriel!”

  The crowd went wild as Evantra grimaced, knowing that Millie would hold it over her head that she had seen it live, while Evantra had been tasked with stashing Emily Huang’s smokes in some dusty corner.

  “Now, we welcome to the sixth circle, our Ghostslayers from fallen empires, who will be providing us with our exhibition match. Unlike our Archangel, they will be using only their cybernetic specialities today, on clear display for us to admire. No weaponry apart from that which they craft with their bodies will be accessible to them throughout the duration of the fight. Ladies and gentlemen, the reason why you’re here tonight… Join me in welcoming a survivor of the nanomassacre of Guang Zhou, the one and only, White Spectre!”

  Evantra watched with keen eyes as the first Ghostslayer emerged onto the stage. The “White Spectre” was aptly named, as the Chinese Ghostslayer stepped out onto the stage. She had long, flowing white hair that Evantra was certain would be a disadvantage in a spar. As ethereal as it made her look, she was sure that it would be turned against her the moment her opponent got a hold of it.

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  Still, the prospect didn’t seem to bug her, as she strode onto the stage, her arms stashed in a flowing robe to match her hair. She looked like a consort from ancient times, or perhaps like a lady monk… who had retained her hair… that had gone into secluded meditation, only to emerge when the world had fallen apart.

  Whatever and whoever she was, the crowd went wild.

  “In the other corner, from the Necropolis, in the wake of the graves of the Nile and the wretched Dancer, we have our contender from Egypt. Welcome to the circle, Sandshade!”

  A tanned, Egyptian man strode out onto the stage. Unlike the White Spectre’s humble appearance, Sandshade was a lot more lively, hyping the crowd up as he egged them on to louden their cheering. Where the White Spectre was thin and lithe, Sandshade was a hulk of a man that towered over her.

  Unlike the White Spectre, his cybernetic specialty became immediately apparent to Evantra.

  He’s a brawler.

  Interlocking metallic plates that matched the colour of his skin wreathed his arms, as he discarded the black robe that he had donned. They glowed with the slightest hint of orange against his tanned skin, giving his silhouette an imposing quality.

  Whatever punch he threw would be backed by the mass and perhaps propulsion, facilitated by his speciality.

  I wonder what hers is… Still, it looks like she’s the clear underdog.

  Perhaps the result of Sandshade’s popularity, or his eagerness to rile up the crowd, the roars of the crowd utterly drowned out that which White Spectre had evoked.

  “Without further ado, let us commence this battle in the seventh circle... FIGHT!”

  With the commentator’s roar, the participants burst into motion. Sandshade sprinted in a straight line, taking the shortest path possible towards his opponent. It seemed as if he was confident in his capabilities, and she watched as the camera zoomed in on the interlocking plates on his arms as they cocked back, as if in preparation.

  The White Spectre just strode forwards slowly, at a languid pace.

  Alright. I’m calling it. The Spectre is going to win. Even if this is a “spar” no one wants to get their face bashed in, especially from someone with a brawler speciality.

  She must have something up her sl—

  Evantra watched in horror and awe as Sandshade activated the propulsion mechanism in his right arm as he surged forwards, driving it in a blur towards the woman, as soon as he was in range.

  He tore through her robes.

  Then the circle exploded.

  It would be more accurate to say that something akin to a detonation had been triggered in the middle of the arena. Instead of bellowing flames blossoming outwards in a flash, mist seemed to coalesce from a singular, infinitesimal point on the stage, before blossoming outwards like an explosion made entirely of—

  Wind.

  The White Spectre’s robes were whipped to shreds as her body acted as the epicentre of the explosion. With her robes torn away, she was left with baggy black trackpants and tight carbon armour across her chest.

  Her arms, however, were bare.

  Evantra’s eyes grew wide as the camera zoomed in to focus on the perforations… no, vents that were laid out across her skin. As the contemporaneous replay appeared in the corner, she gaped as she watched the burst of wind erupt from her skin the split second that Sandshade had entered her reach.

  She had triggered the wind from within her body, causing it to erupt explosively outwards, sending the other Ghostslayer flying.

  White Spectre stalked forwards, each step slow, casual but deliberate, as if Sandshade’s defeat was but a certainty.

  The man stood to his feet.

  He grinned.

  What Evantra could only describe as clouds of sand began to erupt from the gaps between the interlocking plating covering his forearms.

  Metal sand.

  The metallic sand rushed forwards towards the woman, who didn’t even seem to blink at their sudden appearance. Instead, she let the sand hurtle towards her, and she didn’t raise a hand or bat an eye.

  The sand that hurtled towards her simply exploded outwards as it entered her vicinity, the force of the wind heralded from within her cybernetics breaking the cloud apart.

  She halted some distance away from him.

  Waiting.

  Sandshade’s expression twisted into one of rage, the various piercings across his nose and cheek contorting as the interlocking plates receded further, allowing more of the material to roam free. Evantra watched as small clouds of sand seemed to appear at the end of his fists, as if giving him a pair of oversized, anthracite boxing gloves.

  She watched as he darted towards her, closing the distance, sending jab after jab in her direction. White Spectre just calmly weaved around him, her eyes tracing each of his movements as he made them, displaying her sheer control of their dance.

  Having evaded his desperate punches, she changed tack, planting her feet.

  Sandshade’s lips curled into a vicious grin, as if sensing an opportunity arising through her arrogance. But as his fist hurtled towards her, White Spectre blocked with her hand and she watched the woman disperse his haze of metal sand in a precise burst of air.

  Sandshade stood stunned for a moment as the woman gestured towards him. Then something seemed to shift in his expression, and Evantra watched as his interlocking plates seemed to shift back into place.

  The beginnings of jeering could be heard from the crowd, only growing louder by the second as they stood motionless in the centre of the circle.

  “Damn… he’s going to give up? I mean… I would.”

  The jeers were brought to an abrupt halt as Sandshade leapt forwards, using only his mundane movement. The hints of a smile began to play on White Spectre’s lips as she met his blows with her own, devoid of her devastating, miniature explosions of concentrated air.

  The cloud fell silent as the grand spar between Ghostslayers, which featured the rare and unprecedented revelation of their cybernetic specialities, began to devolve into a common fist fight.

  Yet for some reason… the jeering never returned.

  It wasn’t a common fist fight, in the way that Sandshade desperately contorted his body, unleashing a flurry of kicks and blows that hunted White Spectre’s pale flesh like a hunter-killer missile fired from a Santa Muerte weapons platform. Evantra’s eyes widened as his fist found her jaw, and the woman staggered as it landed, spitting out a wad of blood, before returning a bloody grin. Sandshade seemed just as surprised as Evantra was, staring briefly at his fist, before he surged towards her, sending a kick lashing high towards her jaw.

  White Spectre dodged, weaving under it, and rushed upwards in close proximity to his torso. Then a savage gleam entered Sandshade’s eyes, and the black sand that had been idle up until that point shot off the ground where it had been scattered underneath them, hurtling towards the woman as if to suffocate and enshroud them in a metallic coffin that Evantra was certain to work to Sandshade’s advantage.

  “He’s playing dirty…” Evantra muttered under her breath in disdain.

  She frowned as the camera zoomed in on the slightest hint of a smirk playing on White Spectre’s pale lips. The woman extended her hand forwards in the second that it took for the sand to rise, and she seemed to place it on the side of his face. Sandshade’s brow had only just begun to draw together in confusion before the camera zoomed in.

  Giving the audience a clear visual of how the woman’s palm caressed his cheek.

  Before her middle finger latched onto his earlobe.

  Sandshade hurtled from the platform as the micro detonation occurred, ending the fight. The woman shot a concentrated burst of air through perforations in the tips of her fingers, sending the man ragdolling across the stage. To Sandshade’s credit, he had managed to catch himself before flying off the edge of the platform, clambering upwards, clearly dazed from the woman’s attack, a line of blood trailing from his ear.

  “Holy. Shit.”

  Silence reigned in the arena for a mere second before the crowd’s cries shattered it into oblivion. Screams and cheers rang out throughout the seventh circle of Purgatory, Elsecaller’s undercity.

  The circle of violence.

  She rolled her eyes as she watched White Spectre raise her palm to her lips to give Sandshade a flying kiss.

  They’re totally boning after thi—

  Evantra’s head shot up at the knock on the bathroom door.

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