PAST

  A small hand clutched a bigger one as the city of Jewelhead swallowed them whole.

  The avenue glittered with tall, curved buildings and decorative booths packed so tight, the crowd flowed like one organism. Off-world tourists, Earthlings especially, outnumbered the Dycordians, gawking at masks, trinkets, and foods that smelled like every planet had decided to send a chef to cook there at once.

  Child Kane craned his neck so hard it looked like his head might pop off and bounce down the avenue.

  Kane (voiceover)

  Jewelhead. Planet Dycord’s vacation darling. Mom said it was alien enough to feel like an adventure… and familiar enough to feel safe. Lots of Earthlings. Lots of cameras. Lots of reasons to believe nothing bad could happen, unless fate was feeling petty.

  A green-skinned Finan ran a booth where toy planes dog fought in midair, controlled by a headpiece on his forehead. The little fighters looped and spun, firing harmless light bursts that made nearby kids squeal like they were watching a war and not a commercial.

  Child Kane’s fingers slipped free and he bolted.

  “Sweetie—” Kane’s mother reached, but he was already skidding to a stop at the booth, eyes huge, mouth already begging.

  “But mom it’s from Flight for Space! My favorite show! Please! Please!”

  His mother caught up, breathless in a way that wasn’t from running. Her smile arrived late, like it had gotten lost and had to be called.

  “It’s lunch time,” she said, gentle but firm. “Toy later.”

  Child Kane pointed at two different fighters. “That one! And that one!”

  Kane’s mother stared at the toys like they were loaded weapons, then she sighed, and her hands moved.

  “Okay.Pick one.”

  Child Kane, being a professional menace, immediately grabbed two.

  Kane (voiceover)

  Idiot kid. Completely self-absorbed in kid things. Didn’t see how unhappy she was. Didn’t see that these vacations were the only times her true nature leaked through, like the mask slipped when she thought nobody was watching.

  They walked again, and the toy fighters wove above unsuspecting shoppers, faux lasers pinging, simulated crashes triggering little whines. One “shot down” fighter spun and sailed into a narrow alley beside a mask shop.

  Child Kane chased it without thinking.

  Two Dagons, big, muscular, and definitely intoxicated, stumbled into the same alley, laughing loudly like the universe was their personal sitcom. Kane’s mother hurried after her son, panic flashing so hard it might as well have been a flare.

  Kane (voiceover)

  Mom was overprotective, sure. But not normal-mom overprotective. She acted like everyone was a threat. She taught me how to read people with near-perfect accuracy. By six, friend versus foe was easy. Like… scary easy.

  When she reached the alley, she found her son laughing while the Dagons “flew” the toy around each other’s heads, making engine noises and nearly crying from laughter.

  For half a heartbeat, her body loosened in relief.

  Then her eyes cut toward the alley mouth. A figure came into view wearing a long dark cloak and a mask from the shop next door. The kind of mask people bought because “mysterious” felt fashionable, except this wasn’t fashionable. This was intentional.

  The Dagons lumbered out past him, still laughing. He didn’t even glance at them as he strolled forward.

  Kane (voiceover)

  Yeah. I knew the second I saw him. And so did Mom.

  Kane’s mother moved like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life. She shoved Child Kane behind her with one arm, hard and decisive, then planted herself between her son and the cloaked man.

  The man’s hand came out from under the cloak holding a gun.

  In a modest living area, sometime later, Child Kane sat hunched, shoulders shaking, face wet, hands balled into fists that didn’t know what to punch.

  A blue skinned boy slid onto the couch beside him and offered a sandwich with both hands like it was sacred.

  The boy's parents stood in the doorway, crying silently, the kind of crying grown-ups do when they’re trying to be brave and failing.

  Kane (voiceover)

  Both our families knew each other before either of us was born. So I stayed with Claude’s family until my aunt came from Earth to scoop me up. Claude helped me survive the years after. And I'm man enough to say it: Claude is my best friend.

  PRESENT

  The common area near Assembly Hall looked like someone tried to decorate with plants from at least four worlds, with a subtle warning that money exists. All types of alien fauna lined the walls, intersecting seating meant for diplomatic conversations and public meltdowns.

  A massive window framed the main avenue leading to Assembly Hall, busy with delegates, aides, security, carnival spillover, land and air vehicles, and that massive topaz structure looming like a watchful wall.

  Claude stood at the window, serene as a prayer.

  Kane stared at a datapad like it had personally insulted his bloodline.

  “I don’t get it,” Kane said. “I'm faster, stronger, more agile. Tougher—”

  “Modest,” Claude replied without turning.

  “—and yet your ranking is higher. That’s why I don't pay attention to the SRC. Biased.”

  Claude finally looked over, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Against?”

  “Against me. Against Earthlings. We always at the bottom.”

  “No disrespect,” Claude said calmly, “but Earth has only won one Competition out of ninety-nine.”

  Kane’s jaw tightened. “Like I don't know that. I have the same Soul Style as the guy who did win. That alone should bump me above at least the one-armed guy. What’s he ranked?”

  “Many of the others have years, or decades, of fighting experience.”

  “I’ve got experience, buddy. And you know that.”

  “I know.” Claude’s voice softened. “The Superstars’ Guild uses many factors. Experience is chief among them.”

  Kane snorted. “The ones deciding that must be as old as Fiaster.”

  A commotion rolled down the hall like a bad decision on wheels. Two voices, loud and nearly identical, argued at the same time. Kane turned to them, sighing audibly.

  “Tell Dane I’m fighting first!”

  “Tell Zane I’m fighting first!”

  Security guards shifted and delegates turned. Aides braced for chaos the way a person braces for rain, already resigned to being wet.

  Kane’s eyes darkened. Claude’s grin arrived like he’d been waiting all day for the punchline. “You have company.”

  “The worst in the galaxy,” Kane muttered.

  Two Human males stepped into the common area dressed similarly except for color and style. They also wore the same face. Kane’s face.

  Zane and Dane, Kane's Syncs, identical down to the smirk that suggested they’d been born purely to ruin the man’s peace. They liked to bickered in stereo.

  Kane (voiceover)

  The damn Syncs. Coalition science or magic or both, who cares. Sent to live with me six months ago to “learn Kane,” according to my agent. They exist to take my place in battles I don't want to, or can’t, participate in. Which is hilarious, because I'm not passing up any battles. Not now. Not ever.

  When security started inching closer, Kane stood up sharp enough to make his chair slide back with a scrap.

  “Will you two shut up!” Kane snapped. “Neither of you are going!”

  Zane pointed like he was prosecuting. “But you won’t do what it takes to win! I will!”

  Dane nodded at his twin. “He means kill.”

  “Are you crazy?” Kane hissed.

  “Killing the other guy takes him out the game,” Zane said, utterly sincere.

  “Then you miss the opportunity,” Dane added, “to see the look of utter disappointment on their faces when you win.”

  Kane pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought you two hated Dycord and weren’t leaving the ship.”

  “Changed our minds,” Dane said. “When we saw who was up first.”

  Claude stepped forward, polite as always. “I am Claude. Nice to make—”

  “We know who you are,” Zane cut in. “We got Kane’s memories and good looks. We also know you plan to use your friendship with our Base as a means to win.”

  “Yeah!” Dane agreed.

  Kane’s head snapped. “You guys changed my alarm—”

  “That was Dane,” Zane said immediately.

  “—and ate all the food the hotel gave us.”

  “That was Zane,” Dane said just as quickly.

  Zane pointed at Dane. “Because Dane was going to blow up the whole unit as a prank.”

  Two omnibands beeped in unison. A feminine electronic voice spoke over their wrists, ushering destiny.

  Omnibands: Sixty seconds until teleportation.

  Dane lunged a step. “Quick, give me the omniband! I promise not to kill your friend, just crush his spirit.”

  “And I promise his death will be humane,” Zane said, as if that made him a saint.

  Kane turned to Claude, dead serious. “If I let one of these psychos go, do you promise to kill them?”

  Claude didn’t blink. “No.”

  “That’s a big negative, fellas!” Kane barked at the Syncs. “Now go to the nearest market and restock that unit.”

  Claude’s eyebrows rose. “I do hope my Syncs are not as… gung ho?”

  "I think you mean asshole.”

  In a flash of static, teleportation took them mid-argument, mid-insult, mid-life.

  The heat hit like a hovertruck. Around him, black rocky surfaces and rivers of lava; in the distance, a volcano looming. The Fire Eye, a geodome with a kill count and a fan base that probably liked that kill count.

  Kane’s boots kissed onyx. Claude appeared nearby, barefoot and composed. A group of five Yuni lounged on rocks fifty meters away, drinking from clear glasses that contained boiling liquids.

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  “Yo!” one Yuni shouted. “Superstar Kane!”

  Kane glanced over. “Yeah?”

  “You suck!”

  Kane smiled sweetly. “So does your mom.”

  The Yuni burst into laughter, one so offended he threw his drink. The boiling liquid never came close and sizzled into nothing.

  Kane pointed casually at the lava river. “Maybe you need to cool off in that river over there.”

  Claude’s voice slid in at Kane’s shoulder. “He is inebriated. You should ignore him.”

  Kane jerked around. “Damn, you’re quiet. Make some noise when you sneak up on a friend.”

  “If I were anyone else,” Claude said mildly, “I would have attacked when your back was turned.”

  “Good thing I'm fighting a priest then.” Kane paused. “Wait. That sounded bad.”

  “Less talking!” a second Yuni yelled. “More trying to kill each other!”

  Claude glanced upward as if he could see through the dome. “The others are probably watching.”

  Kane nodded. “Yeah. I don't want them seeing everything this early.”

  “Precisely.” Claude lifted his hand, holding up his fingers. “So. First to force the other to use three techniques wins.”

  Kane’s grin returned. “Sounds like a plan.”

  A holographic shimmer appeared beside them.

  Roxy Boss hovered in, glittering and dramatic, feathers and charisma weaponized.

  “Um, guys?” she said, stage-whispering. “People are booing.”

  “We’re fighting,” Kane said. “We’re fighting. Go away and let us fight.”

  Roxy vanished with a huff like a star exiting a scene.

  Kane exhaled and rolled his shoulders. “You ready? Hold on, Soul Style increases strength and speed. I can’t turn it off. And your just a normal Dycordian. I mean… you know.”

  “I know,” Claude said. “Which means I must use a technique now.”

  A six-foot staff rose from the onyx floor, forged of the same midnight material. It slid up into his waiting hand.

  Kane’s left forearm glowed. Silver energy crawled over the omniband and extended thirty inches from his fist, pulsing rhythmically, until it formed a blade that faded to nothing at the tip.

  “Now we each have two left,” Kane said.

  Claude twirled the staff once, clean and deadly. “Let us begin.”

  Kane blurred forward. His first slash came almost lazy, testing. Claude blocked and silver sparks skittered.

  The staff caught his Will Blade. Kane’s smile froze. Claude hooked him under the arm and used Kane’s momentum like a borrowed weapon, tossing him forty feet.

  Kane twisted in air and landed light, boots scraping onyx.

  Roxy’s voice boomed from somewhere above, half-delighted, half-annoyed. “The Superstar pals test each other in a quick melee exchange! Now… they talk again.”

  Kane stared at Claude. “How did you do that? My Will Blade can cut anything.”

  Claude’s staff hummed faintly. “My World Bo is not merely matter. It is a portion of a planet’s spirit. Though you possess formidable will, I do not believe you match a planet.”

  “But we’re on a moon.”

  “Moons are a planet’s hands,” Claude replied, like that made perfect sense and also like he didn’t care if it didn’t.

  Kane squinted. “That’s not weird at all. What about the strength to even block me? If you used a technique—”

  “Did you read the SRC?” Claude asked.

  “The SRC is for amateur gamblers and carnie nerds.”

  “True,” Claude said, “but it hints at your opponent. One benefit of Communion Style is gaining attributes of what I eat. I had wild yonder for breakfast.”

  Kane pointed accusingly. “You cheated.”

  “I cannot turn it on and off, Kane.”

  Kane’s eyes narrowed. “Did you know we were the first fight?”

  Above, Roxy screamed at the crowd, probably. “Conversation is the more accurate term! Let’s see some blood!”

  The Yuni cheered like they’d been hired to do so.

  Kane’s stance lowered. “Fine. I will get you to reveal something next.”

  He launched again, then broke angle, circling, blurring around Claude like a silver storm.

  Kane (voiceover)

  All Soul Style users have Quickening. It’s not a technique, so I'm golden. Besides, I'm stalling. Claude doesn’t rush down. He waits. Always. I hadn't forgotten what happened the last time we saw each other.

  PAST

  Teen Kane rushed Teen Claude, fist cocked for a haymaker fueled by grief and stupidity. Claude sidestepped left.

  Kane took a knee to the midsection and a foot under his chin. The impact should’ve ended it, but it didn’t.

  Kane came in again, yelling, “Take it back!”

  Claude got shoved backward by a gust of wind. Kane’s fist cratered the ground where Claude had been standing. Even though they wore formal suits, they fought like demons.

  Mourners screamed. Others froze, too shocked to process violence in a place built for sorrow.

  Claude caught Kane’s outstretched arm and, in a blink, had him face-first in grass, locked in an arm submission.

  Claude’s voice was tight with emotion he refused to let spill. “I will not. You are being a fool yet again.”

  Kane roared and jumped, trying to smash Claude on the landing. He released, rolled, and rose uninjured. A stern voice cut through the scene.

  "Stop!”

  Both froze. Seer Vassi walked toward them as if walking into such a situation was normal.

  “I know emotions are raw,” Vassi said, “but this is a place for mourning. Not fighting. You are both at fault. She would be disappointed.”

  Teen Kane swallowed hard, then turned away. “I'm outta here.”

  Claude watched him go.

  Kane (voiceover)

  I was a real jackhole back then. Couldn’t admit Claude was right. I will remind him after this match… assuming we both survive the lava and the audience’s bloodlust.

  PRESENT

  Kane snapped back to the present, circling. Claude stood almost motionless, staff ready, reading the air like it was scripture.

  Kane came in from Claude’s blind spot, silver blade streaking. Claude met him as if he’d known the angle before Kane picked it. He blocked, causing more sparks, and throws Kane.

  He skids and comes in again, three slashes aimed left; blocked, blocked, parried. Claude’s staff left his hands in a sudden throw, rebounding with a loud THWACK, one inch from Kane’s face, then snapping back into Claude’s grip like it was on a leash.

  Claude’s gaze sharpened. “Got your Aura Cloak out of the way. Take this more seriously.”

  “That could’ve put my eye out!”

  “Be thankful I did not toss you into the lava,” Claude said politely. “That was my original plan.”

  Kane’s mouth opened, then closed. “If your still mad, we can talk.”

  “I am sorry,” Claude said. “Clarification: I only wanted your Aura Cloak unavailable. It takes approximately twenty-four hours to recharge unless the SRC is wrong.”

  Kane shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Claude nodded once. “Then let us show our second techniques before it returns.”

  Claude spun the World Bo so fast the wind slapped Kane’s clothes.

  Behind Claude, the heat rising from the lava bed twisted, then obeyed.

  Rivers of molten rock climbed into the air like charmed snakes, weaving into two swirling tornadoes of lava, fifteen feet wide, twenty feet tall.

  Kane took one involuntary step back.

  Roxy’s commentary flared across the dome. “Superstar Claude is turning up the heat and the stakes! How will Superstar Kane counter such an attack!?”

  Kane (voiceover)

  Claude promised later he wasn’t trying to kill me. For a second… I wasn’t sure I believed him.

  The twin lava funnels surged toward Kane, who leapt, zipped, and vaulted, flashing between black stone and rivers of fire. The lava tornadoes followed every movement, ignoring physics like they’d personally unfriended it.

  Kane landed on an outcropping and a funnel smashed it. Molten rock exploded outward like shrapnel. The Yuni carnies ducked flaming chunks while still holding their drinks.

  The second funnel barreled in like a runaway train. Kane’s Will Blade grew, expanding, brightening.

  A spinning backhand slash carved the air, appearing like half a crescent moon. The lava tornado vanished fifty feet away, erased into steam and sparks.

  Claude smiled, impressed despite himself. “Your Will Blade is formidable indeed.”

  “Took years,” Kane said. “Wasn’t easy.”

  “I can imagine.” Claude’s eyes searched Kane’s face. “You are different than before. More determined. What changed?”

  Kane’s smile thinned. “I'll fill you in after my victory pose.”

  Kane charged again and the two display mastery of their chosen weapons in a display of footwork and feints; the kind of fight that looked like choreography.

  Kane (voiceover)

  The real reason I'm here? I couldn't say it while the whole galaxy listened. The truth would crush people. And it would tip off the bastards I'm hunting.

  PAST

  Kane rummaged through a closet stacked with hundreds of hand-sized cases, old holoview archives kept like heirlooms.

  Kane (voiceover)

  My great-great grandfather found a vault of vintage cartoons back when Humans abandoned Earth’s surface to live above the clouds. He preserved them. Passed them down. When I miss my parents, I watch one. It’s the closest thing to time travel I got.

  Kane slid a small cube into a machine.

  A hologram popped up: a cartoon rabbit sprinting from hunters, exaggerated faces, slapstick physics.

  Kane laughed through a lump in his throat, then the image flickered. The rabbit vanished and a woman appeared, smiling, Kane’s mother. He shot up so fast the chair protested.

  Kane (voiceover)

  When I saw her, smiling that smile that used to melt fear, my heart climbed into my throat and refused to leave.

  She spoke gently, like she always did.

  “Hello, Kane. I’m recording this on 1035-053-UC, just before we left for Dycord. I don’t know when you’ll see this… but I know you will. And I know by then I’ll be dead.”

  Kane’s hand reached for her face. His fingers passed through hologram static.

  “My death was not an accident,” she continued. “Not random. Something I discovered may have led to it. I’m leaving this as a warning.”

  She paused, eyes heavy with love and fear.

  “Those Superstars you admire, the ones who win Coalition Carnage… I’m sorry, dear, but the Coalition kills them.”

  Kane’s lungs forgot how to work.

  “They murder these celebrities for reasons I don’t fully understand… and replace them with Tek that look exactly like them.”

  Her voice stayed steady, but her eyes didn’t.

  “I’m telling you for two reasons. Don’t become a Superstar. And if you’re seeking justice for me… please don’t. Live your life. You are the love of my life. I can give my life to keep you safe.”

  She smiled one last time.

  “Goodbye. I love you.”

  The cartoon snapped back to its slapstick chase.

  Kane didn’t see it, tears too thick. His Will Blade forms and the couch is split in half like it had offended him.

  Kane (voiceover)

  I got Soul Style for reasons only loosely connected to the competition. But after that? I had a reason to join Coalition Carnage. A reason of vengeance.

  PRESENT

  Kane’s strikes intensified. Claude blocked and dodged, staff spinning like a shield made of night. Claude almost locked Kane in another submission, but Kane’s knee jammed the angle before it sealed.

  Claude twisted, tossed Kane again. As Kane landed, Claude spun the staff overhead. Behind Kane, the air stirred. Five lava funnels formed.

  The Yuni carnies whooped like they’d personally summoned them.

  One yelled, “Hope you burn to perfection!” and his buddies guffawed like that was comedy.

  Kane glanced at Claude. “Okay. I sees you.”

  Kane charged straight past Claude, the tornadoes in tow. Claude’s smile widened, sure he’d predicted it. But Kane’s target wasn’t Claude.

  Kane cut ninety degrees left two meters in front of the Yuni carnies. The Yuni had just enough time to realize what was happening.

  They scrambled, but the tornadoes ignored them, locked on Kane like hungry gods.

  Kane skidded, turned, and raised his right hand.

  A faint silver glow bloomed at his wrist and he punched forward. A silver ring-shaped construct shot out, expanding violently as it flew, fifty times larger, humming with pressure.

  The five lava funnels got dragged into it as if the ring was a hole in reality. They were gone with no trace.

  Claude’s eyed his friend with respect. “That is two. Sutúraito Ringu. The SRC says it transmutes anything that enters into pure will energy.”

  “That’s right,” Kane said.

  Claude’s gaze flicked to the ring, still hovering. “Releasing that energy would constitute your third technique.”

  “It does,” Kane agreed.

  The ring twisted, folded, and morphed into a long-eared bipedal rabbit chewing a carrot like it was on a break.

  Kane’s mouth quirked. “Technique: Jack.”

  Claude smiled as if the universe had finally proven him right. “Then I win.”

  Jack moved, not fast, almost instant.

  A silver line snapped toward Claude.

  Claude barely dodged left, but the beam corrected mid-flight and struck him square in the chest. There was a bright flash. When it faded, Claude lay flat on his back, eyes closed.

  Roxy’s voice blared. “And Superstar Claude is down! Time to start the count! One… two… three…”

  Kane sprinted to him, kneeling.

  “Ten!” Roxy shouted. “And the winner of Battle One, Superstar Kane!”

  Kane waved up at the dome cameras, quick, practiced, then turned back, all jokes gone. Claude groaned and sat up slowly.

  “Easy,” Kane said, helping him. “I had it set to stun.”

  Claude blinked, then managed a shaky smile. “I did not see that coming. I mean… at all.”

  Omnibands: Five seconds until teleportation to safe zone.

  Claude’s voice dropped, urgent and private. “Meet me at the carnival entrance.”

  Static swallowed them.

  ---

  Kane rematerialized inside a spacious cabin with dark green walls, his Streamjet’s living module. One oval table and two opposing seats rising from beneath the floor, soft looking couches and monitors embedded in walls was all that was there.

  One screen showed Roxy talking on mute, another, an empty cockpit. The smell of food hit Kane’s nose.

  Zane stood by an archway, arms crossed. “You won. That was cool. My win would’ve been more decisive.”

  Dane entered wearing a cook’s apron. “We used the food onboard to make a victory brunch until you go shopping.”

  Kane stared at them like they were radioactive. “I'm going to meet Claude.”

  Dane grinned. “Y’all still good after you whooped his ass?”

  “Please be gone when I gets back,” Kane said, “never to return.”

  Kane Quickened out, only to have his dramatic exit ruined by the hatch door taking its sweet time. Behind him, the Syncs’ voices carried:

  “Did he say he was never coming back?” Dane asked.

  “Yes,” Zane replied happily. “I’ll take the next fight.”

  The Streamjet dock was egg-shaped and packed with maintenance personnel and security, Human and Dycordian, cheering as Kane disembarked.

  He waved, smiling nervously, then zipped out through the open hangar bay doors into the crowd-choked boulevards of Topaz City.

  Kane (voiceover)

  The applause never sits right. But I knew what I signed for. Being a Superstar means carrying the hopes and prayers of people who don’t even know me. And even when I beat their Superstar, Dycordians still congratulate me.

  Kane scanned for a path through bodies and food stands and gravdisk dancers, then caught movement in the distance.

  A figure vaulted rooftop to rooftop, heading away from the Tower of Laws.

  Kane (voiceover)

  Seeing someone use Quickening to run away from the Tower made me think “shady.” Trust die-hard? Copycat? Someone finishing Fiaster’s supposed plan? I decided to follow.

  Kane leapt up a building face, the crowd cheering like he’d just performed for them personally. From above, he saw balloons releasing from the distant carnival site, and the rooftop runner about a mile out.

  He closed the distance, noticing the runner was a woman. She stopped on a roof overlooking a clearing. Kane crouched, Claude arriving a heartbeat later.

  “What are you doing?” Claude asked.

  Kane almost jumped. “Damnit, man.”

  “You need to work on your Awareness.”

  Kane gestured sharply. “I was aware enough to notice this lady acting sus. She left the Tower via roof jumping. After what happened this morning…”

  Claude studied the woman, frowning. “I believe she is the Superstar of Pia. She resembles her.”

  The woman turned, glaring directly at them.

  Both men went rigid, suddenly pretending they had been admiring the architecture for purely innocent reasons. She looked away like they weren’t worth her eyesight.

  Then she jumped off the roof. Kane sprinted to the edge.

  Kane (voiceover)

  For half a second, I thought she was trying to off herself. Me so stupid.

  Below was a clearing of granite walkways spiraling inward, several avenues blocked off because of the dragon nested in the center.

  It had crimson and violet scales, eyes longer than Kane was tall, and rows of teeth two meters long.

  Claude sounded a little excited. “Cool. A dragonfly.”

  Kane swallowed. “I've never seen one this close.”

  The woman approached the beast without fear and patted it gently between two massive nostrils.

  Then she threw one last glare up at Kane and Claude, pure contempt, sharp as a slap. Then she walked directly between two teeth, into the dragon’s open maw.

  The dragon closed its mouth. Its eyes stayed on the two Interlopers.

  Claude exhaled slowly. “Have to admit… watching that was a little unsettling.”

  Kane stared at the dragonfly’s closed mouth, heat and mystery prickling his skin. “What a galaxy we live in.”