Alan’s face drained of all its warmth. The god Junos stared down at him with both fists on his hips, waiting for the Merchant’s answer.

Play for keeps?

He’d earned Hendra through the mountain’s Variant Fog, even fighting through a bout of crimson he had no business besting. How could he give up his most technically prized minion? And worse… a foe turned friend.

There was no time to consult with Afarus, or any of his crew walking up behind him. The god’s glare was true. He had no idea in the universe how powerful a god’s minion might be.

The fate of an entire realm rested on Alan turning this god’s head, literally. All of the strung out faces and slouched shoulders he witnessed on the way here… He couldn’t back down.

“Alan— the beards whisper of odd castle keepers that once roamed these lands,” Flint said in his ear. “I’m not quite sure what to expect.”

“Your Hendra grows colder by the second, Alan. What say you to my challenge?” Junos puffed his chest even farther out.

“He is unhinged, Alan.” Neesha grabbed his other ear. “Careful.”

“I accept.” Alan threw out his hand. “For the grand entertainment of Hightower Brack.”

“I knew you were a man worthy of great praise—”

“Under one condition,” Alan interrupted.

“Hm?” Intrigue glimmered in the god’s eye.

“You as a god, must disconnect your powers from the minion, and I get to bolster mine.” Alan tilted his head. “It’s only fair to provide maximum entertainment. Otherwise it will be a slaughter.”

The metal around Junos’ mask creaked near the lips as he considered the offer. “Maximum entertainment you say?” Junos’ nipples literally sparkled at the prospect. “That does tickle me in all the right places.”

I goddamn hate gods.

“You, sir have yourself a deal. Mhm!”

BATTLE BET INITIATED

Alan Right’s Dedicated Minion: Hendra

*Versus*

Junos’ Dedicated Minion: Ufanda

TERMS:

*Through destruction or forfeiture by owner’s call, a winner will be declared.

*Junos is forbidden from interfering with his godly hand.

*Alan is permitted to interfere via Saro transfer

STAKES:

Loser forfeits their minion to the winner.

Battle bet? That’s new. Alan mentally accepted the terms. Another war time prompt?

Junos turned with more energy than he began with. “It is time, my citizens, that Ufanda is called from her deep slumber. Oh, how I have missed you, old friend.”

“Oh dear.” Sinclair covered his mouth. “Oh no.”

“What?” Alan spun on him.

“Ufanda is connected deep into the roots of Brack. I’ve convened with her,” Sinclair said.

“How, stupid? The god said she’s been sleepy-pie.” Itsy grabbed Sinclair by the hair and shook him. “This is a big deal, Mister Robes.”

“Wally woo. Calm down there, mighty princess. You’ll snap the poor Wizard in two.” Flint tapped her gingerly on the nose, freezing it and making her sneeze.

“Void purple,” Alan realized.

“Precisely, Alan.” Sinclair wiped his robes clean.

“That means poltergeist,” Alan thought aloud.

“I’m sorry?” Neesha scratched her head.

“She lives within inanimate objects. But what?” Alan said. “Jeez. Void absorbs other Saro, and Hendra is literally a Saro variant. I took the god for a fool. I underestimated him. All this time, through his goddamn ridiculousness, he’s been paying attention.”

Alan stared hard at Junos, who belly laughed alongside his people.

I underestimated a damn god…

Black and Red Saro swirled within him, bringing on a wave of dread. Trish walking out on him, telling him she couldn’t wait another second for a life that would never be…

“You never even try, Alan,” her voice plagued his head.

No, he answered back in his mind’s eye, swallowing it all into tangible quintessence within his curling fists. He stomped onto the rubber arena and took his place behind Hendra, his tense arms alive with glowing Saro.

“Hen, whatever comes out of there, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we destroy it.”

“I would expect nothing less from the warrior who defeated me.” She clenched her hammer in both hands.

“If we fall, we fall together,” Alan said, making sure she knew he wouldn’t leave one of his own.

Hendra scoffed. “I wouldn’t fret, Merchant of the Shade, I’ve been defending my post for two thousand years. Void creatures among them.”

“What do you suggest? What beats the void?”

“If you think hard enough, I wager you know the answer. Or at least, your Wizard does.”

It clicked like a closed lock. Of course.

Alan thought back to the void knights Sinclair summoned to defend his castle. They were screeching, twitching pits of energy straining to fight. Purple depletes the Saro well more than most. Just the minion’s existence is probably exhaustive, especially without Junos’ power. What better way to fight than to tire it out? Flint’s ice walls are the key.

“Junos is probably ecstatic he isn’t fighting Figro,” Alan said.

“Quite right. Though if he was, I imagine he would’ve chosen a different minion. Odds were on his side, considering our show was the one who lured him.”

“We have one advantage,” Alan said.

“Hm?” Hendra knelt to better hear, both of her faces staring right at him.

“Junos is blind to Ojin outside his scouts. He doesn’t know your capabilities like when we fought near your Saro mecca. I will be your mountain this time, Hen. Pull from me.”

“It will be done.”

“Arise, Ufanda!” Junos stomped, spreading his arms wide.

Whoosh!

“Look out!” Alan called, pointing to a sword spinning down in quick succession before boom! It stabbed through the rubber arena and deep into the stone below. A flash of vibrant Purple Saro beamed around the gothic edges.

Hendra rose once more, standing in ready position as Alan siphoned Red and Black her way.

Boom! A gothic shield fell from the sky next. Then Alan caught glimpses of more specs being hurled from the faraway castles.

“Alan! Ufanda is everywhere!” Sinclair shouted.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A staff, spear and axe all slammed down next.

Boom!

An oversized wooden broom with dirty yellow bristles crashed and rolled to a stop beside the weapons, making Alan tilt his head in confusion.

“OooaaaOoo!” A ghostly voice echoed throughout the streets.

The citizens turned, as did Alan, when whoosh! An oversized purple medieval dress shook in the wind, puffing up like a parachute on its way down. “Oooaaaoo!” It spooked some of the citizens, sleeves flailing. But Junos awaited the dress with open arms, catching her for a quick waltz spin.

“Oh, Ufanda, how I enjoyed watching you from the sky. Bouncing between all the castles like a jumpy cat. And now I can swing you again! Mhm!” Junos launched her gracefully onto the arena. “Make the show glorious, my dear!”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Hmm. Hmm. Hm. Hm. La la la. Hm. Hm. Hmmm!” She hummed while wrapping two sleeves around the broom and sweeping away the stray stone that popped through the rubber.

Not sure I even want that minion if I win. Alan scratched his head.

“Oh this is already riveting.” Junos clapped his hands. “Would you like to do the honors, or me, Alan?”

“Ack! Not until I’m done cleaning, if you please. Hm. Hm. Hm.” She swiped the stone pile off to the side, carefully giving citizens a chance to move out of harm’s way. At least she’s more decent than this version of Junos. “Alright.” She wiped her dirty sleeves and placed the broom at the edge of the arena. “Let’s see here.” She wrapped one sleeve tightly around the gothic sword hilt, and the other around the shield. “Yes, these should do just fine,” her voice was matronly, as if she just finished dusting a home. Purple Saro glowed to life as she swayed back and forth like the poltergeist ghost she was.

“Same plan?” Alan arced an eyebrow.

“Yes. She is old, like I am, Alan. She has accumulated great strength in her tenure in this realm.” Hendra spun the hammer stem in her hand, making whirring sounds. “Yet still, she will tire.”

“I am ready. Hm. Hm. Hmmmm.” She smacked sword against shield, taunting Hendra.

“Go ahead, Junos,” Alan called, hoping the god’s participation will aid in entertaining him.

“Yes! Mhm! The encore you all have been waiting for.” Junos stepped onto the arena, sharpskin sending electrical voltage spikes down his legs that absorbed into the rubber. “I present to you, my long lost dearest, Ufanda Stigmata, versus the almighty Hendra.” He paused for the citizens to take in the moment. Last minute coins exchanged hands, cheers erupted from both sides. “Fighters, ready!” Junos backed up. “For the glory of Hightower Brack. Begin!”

On cue, Alan filtrated unending amounts of White Saro into the Hendra, turning her torso-face sapphire blue with ice, which swirled up her arms and around her hammer. As Alan performed the task, he realized for the first time how densely concentrated Saro became in his minion’s hands. As a matter of fact, she was a sheer amplifier of the magic.

He should’ve thought of it sooner. On their first encounter, the mountain transformed her into many forms just by blowing variant fog her way. She’s by far the most powerful conduit he possessed.

“OooOooo!” The purple dress flew forward, spinning the gothic sword into a purple whirlwind.

“Now!” Alan commanded mentally.

Hendra slammed her hammer onto the rubber floor, freezing the whole top layer instantly and commanding a spiked ice wall to erect through the center.

Fsst!

The entire width of the arena was now blocked off, separating the two minions.

“Ghastly!” Ufanda’s ghostly form swayed hauntingly on the other end of the deep blue ice, Purple Saro radiating off her gown like heat. “Ghastly things!” She swung her weapon hard into the thick ice.

People jumped and shouted at the mayhem.

Crrtch!

A crack split the glacier.

Already? Shit.

Alan had to think up all of the intense defensive White spells Flint conjured over his time here, and concentrate it all unto Hendra.

“A comical thought. Hm. Hm. To think—” Ufanda sliced another piece of ice with her sword. “—I have—” She swung again. “—A limited well—” One more time sent the ice wall shattering to the floor. “—Is preposterous. I have been absorbing energy from Hightower Brack for a thousand years!”

“And I… for two thousand.” Hendra held her hammer up, and like a sprinkler, shot out frozen rain so fast it solidified as a glacial tomb encasing her.

Alan wondered how far his interference could extend without pissing Junos off. He thought of filtering Black into Hendra and forcing her into a shade that could reform behind Ufanda, but thought better of it when the god’s watchful eye glared his way.

He had to remember, the goal wasn’t just to win, it was to entertain. Two whole realms depended on it.

“Is this what I have been summoned for?” Ufanda unraveled the sword in her sleeve and wrapped both around the shield to jam it down like an ice pick. “To sculpt?”

Alan’s heart sunk into his belly when citizens around Junos laughed at her quip. She was right. Alan was losing the god’s attention.

“Well?” Ufanda said, whipping her cloth arms down for the eighth time, hardly making a dent.

“What is the meaning of this, Alan?” Junos drew sharpskin and pointed it his way. “Your prized minion hides?”

Alan stalled for a second, analyzing the ghost’s grunting voice as she stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed down on the impossibly thick tomb. It was working. Ufanda was tiring. But he had to shift.

“Hendra, new plan.” Alan tossed a hint of Blue in her direction. “We’ll attempt to overwhelm her with quick Saro shifts. Purple can absorb, but it takes energy to adapt too. My breastplate operates the same way. So we’ll entertain while depleting her.”

Screw it. I’m going to the Black.

Alan’s White syphoning stream darkened as he filtered a flood of harsh thoughts Hendra’s way. The back of her encasing cracked, and he commanded all five of the pearls out of his bag and straight into Hendra’s body, dissipating her form to a shade.

“As if I haven’t hunted assassins my entire tenure,” Ufanda huffed haughtily, tossing her shield and twirling like a corkscrew back to her ensemble of weapons. She curled both sleeves around the spear and started jabbing down on the Hendra’s massive slithering shadow like she was spear fishing.

“Here we go, yes my dear.” Junos clapped. “Impale that insidious wench!”

Fsst! Fsst!

Ufanda stabbed unnaturally fast, piercing the floor as if it were a ghostly astral plain. She missed her first three, but when she dashed – cloak flapping to follow Hendra lock step – Alan tensed.

Fssssst!

The Hendra grunted and reformed back on the arena, dragging Ufanda’s stuck spear with it. Her leg was punctured.

Shit.

She grabbed the astral spear and whipped the void poltergeist flying to the end of the arena.

Alan sent a hint of Green Saro slithering to the Hendra next, closing the wound… until Ufanda floated between them, absorbing the stream herself.

“Ahhh. Like a warm bath,” Ufanda’s voice livened. “Thank you, my dear.”

Alan waved his hands clear of the tether, cursing to himself.

She can steal my Saro tethers? What the hell!

“What a fantastic move, darling. Wonderful!” Junos clapped. “I would very much enjoy this variant Hendra patrolling the edge of the realm. I think I would. Yes. It would remind me of this great tournament. Do win her for me,” he commanded with a quick clap.

When Ufanda turned her gown abruptly away from the god as if giving the cold shoulder, Alan considered whether there might be trouble in paradise. In any other situation he could use that to his advantage, but here he had to tip-toe around this madman. Anger doesn’t mesh well with entertainment.

Back pocket for now.

Thinking of heavenly battle-angels, Alan whipped a stream of yellow Saro, curving it around the ghost and into Hendra before severing the tie. His minion’s form changed again – lightning bolts sparking between the open fangs of her second face – hammer and armor sparkling gold.

She spun her electric-charged hammer, whiffing past the gown that sucked in its airy belly.

Alan used Yellow as a feign. He knew Hendra couldn’t drive up static electricity with a rubber arena, so he already switched his thoughts to nonsensical mayhem – the face-painted archer who murdered him on Earth acting as a great source – and waited for one blow to land before switching to Pink. Just a tactic to deplete the poltergeist further.

Keeping his Title on God Merchant was the best option even if others would provide him enhanced Saro. The focus was Hendra. She needed to stay upright. Entertain.

Hendra swung to hit air yet again. The gown was agile. A call for instinctive Red mixed with White.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Two more misses. But Hendra was gaining now, so much so that Ufanda dove and swapped spear for shield.

Dong!

Enchanted hammer connected with gothic shield, sending Ufanda flying back.

Hendra’s beastly thighs alternated to follow up quicker than the gown could slither away, and when Ufanda was cornered to the back of the magically-charged arena boundary, she soared high over Hendra’s head only to get clapped by a momentous swing that froze her to pure ice.

The blow looked promising… until Ufanda’s Purple Saro absorbed the White.

His plan was failing on one hand – Hendra growing more exhausted by the second – but on the other… Junos waved around sharpskin like a flag.

“Yes, my dear! You dance like a queen. Let us celebrate right after your victory. It is imminent! Fly! Yes! Mhm!”

Throughout the next ten minutes of mayhem, Alan realized frozen swaths of the gown lay tattered all over the rubber. Small holes began to form as the fight went on, while Hendra’s tired tells were a bit more apparent – slower swings and hunched sprints.

It was good to know the god’s minion wasn’t indestructible, but Alan too was feeling the depletion. He couldn’t channel Green Saro over himself without letting his minion falter. This wouldn’t go on much longer.

Ufanda swapped weapons for the sixth time, finally taking her broom in hand when Hendra’s trippy Pink Saro form of unicorn horns and hammer-turned-duster made the duel into a castle-cleaning fight between maids.

“Yes! Fantastic!” Junos’ laugh echoed throughout the realm. “This has always been an attraction of mine. Fight for the squabbles of my kingdom. Yes!”

Alan cringed to the point of a shiver, but at least the god was entertained. There was no more doubt.

Now to win.

Alan racked his brain.

“It is time to finish this dance of she-wolves, and return to my omnipotent castle visits,” Ufanda said.

“Nonsense, my dear! I will create moonlight for us to sway in. How often does a god get to stretch out his limbs on the peasant ground! Dance with me, dear!”

The gown spun away again. Alan could’ve swore he heard a scoff this time too.

Taking stock of his minion’s depleting energy and his own… that’s when it hit him. The same trick he used against Hendra a time ago – to defeat an impossible opponent doused in crimson fog. He took a deep breath in hopes it would work.

“Exaggerate your exhaustion,” Alan spoke to her mentally. “Like you did against Figro before. Make a show of it.”

“It is no exaggeration, Merchant,” even her mental voice strained. She listened anyway and dropped to one knee, using the base of her hammer to keep herself up.

Okay… now take the bait you overgrown nightgown.

Alan rushed to the edge of the arena, pretending to almost trip to try and get out of Ufanda’s path. Hendra was far across from him, in prime position for the gown to intercept.

He never thought himself an actor or a showman, but when tough times call… He closed his eyes tight, conjuring a faux tether of Green Saro and whipping it on a mean curve so his plan wasn’t obvious.

“OooOoo!” Ufanda shimmied through the air to get a taste of regenerative energy, and as soon as she did, Alan dropped the façade. He ripped away the deceptive Gray Saro used to mask his true tether. Green faded into blinding White ice, where Alan conjured the remainder of his strength to bind her.

“Go, Hen!”

“Nasty Merchant. Nasty!” Ufanda’s voice quavered.

The gown shivered in place, enchanted fabric freezing over within seconds. And as she tried to claw out of harm’s way, Hendra burst forward from racer’s position – hammer reeled back – and swung with the last of her force.

Crrchhsst!

Chunks of fabric flew everywhere.

“Waaaoo!” half the crowd roared.

“My, oh my!” Junos dropped sharpskin to cover his face with both hands.

We did it.

Alan waved away the Saro and fell to his knees, breathing heavily.

Hendra rose beaten and bruised, raising her hammer high in the air as she stepped on what was left of Ufanda.

Despite the god’s unease of his “darling dear,” he stomped onto the arena with excitement. Ufanda groaned as the ice of her tattered gown slowly stitched back together.

“Winner!” Junos yelled.

Yes!

BATTLE BET COMPLETE

Alan Right’s Dedicated Minion: Hendra

*Versus*

Junos’ Dedicated Minion: Ufanda

Victor:

Alan Right

Ufanda Stigmata received.

(1000-year-old keeper of Hightower Brack)

Purple Saro Patrolgod with multipurpose arsenal.

As excited as Alan was, he waved the prompt quickly away to focus on Junos.

As the god stood in the center of the arena with his arms spread wide, his helmet finally spun and clicked in place. The mask changed from large nose and expressive lips to a blank face with a straight mouth. What’s more, his entire demeanor changed abruptly as if possessed.

Alan’s theory must’ve been true. And now that Junos was entertained, he had no time to waste. He rushed into the crowd pooling into the arena, shoving armored bodies out of his way, unfastening Madam Mar’s cloak and tossing Flint’s hat back to him on the way.

“Junos,” Alan said, out of breath. He’d expended so much Saro it felt like he hadn’t slept in ages all of sudden.

The god arced an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve come in hopes you’ll honor our alliance between Strangey Town and Hightower Brack, as decreed on my first visit.” He bowed.

WAR-TIME OFFER INITIATED.

Alan seeks to broker a deal between Mujungo of Strangey Town and Junos of Hightower Brack.

If successfully brokered…

Junos took Alan by both shoulders, screws endlessly twisting within his mask. “Alan Right, as I live and breathe.”

Alan sighed with relief. The voice was the same he remembered when convening with him on his first visit to Brack. But then the god’s grip tightened.

“The answer… is no.”