The atmosphere in the home was tense, a subtle but palpable shift in its usual rhythm. The bioluminescent patterns that adorned the walls seemed dimmer, their soft glow less vibrant than usual. Mikhail’s mother, Janet Jak-Sun, moved about the household with a quiet unease, her usual grace tinged with an unfamiliar heaviness. She seemed sad, almost scared, as though burdened by a conversation she’d had with Yeltrik earlier.
Mikhail, however, refused to let it affect his mood. Pride surged within him—he had earned his father’s acknowledgment, a rare and precious thing. Yeltrik’s decision to grant him free time for the day was a victory in itself, a mark of respect for his performance in the maze. No training, no regimented schedules. Just a day to rest and indulge. He planned to spend most of it watching GEWF matches and recovering from the sheer exhaustion of the challenge.
As he settled into the recreation area, he grabbed the Enhanced Planer Cube, its glowing surfaces now dormant, and absentmindedly toyed with its edges while queueing up a new match on the holo-screen. The cube’s weight in his hands was comforting, a tactile reminder of his achievement. The match he selected wasn’t one of the grand galactic tournaments but a local event, streamed directly from a nearby GEWF arena. He had started focusing on these smaller-scale matches recently, trying to decipher the “meta”—the strategic trends and tactics—of the local wrestling scene.
The match began with a dramatic introduction, the arena’s holographic displays flashing vivid animations as the fighters entered. First was Cerebrax the Tactician, a living swarm of nanites from Cognitus, the AI-dominated world where machines had long surpassed biological beings. Cerebrax was renowned for his calculated strategies, his ability to adapt and counter his opponents with surgical precision. The holograms surrounding him displayed shifting diagrams and simulations, emphasizing his analytical approach to combat.
His opponent, Drexon “The Graviton” Thorne, was a stark contrast. A towering brute from the mining colonies of Xandria Prime, Drexon exuded raw, unrefined power. His massive gravity-assist mining gauntlets gleamed under the arena lights, their weighty presence a testament to the harsh environment of his homeworld. Where Cerebrax was sleek and methodical, Drexon was a force of nature, a tidal wave of fury waiting to be unleashed. The commentators couldn’t help but speculate on how the two wildly different styles would clash.
The referee stepped forward, her voice amplified across the arena. “The rules for this match are as follows: No allies. No run-ons. No chairs, tables, or other furniture. This is a clean fight. Let’s keep it that way.”
The crowd roared as the fighters squared off in the ring, anticipation crackling through the air like an electrical charge. The bell rang, and the match began.
Cerebrax moved first, his nanite body shifting and reforming with unsettling fluidity. Within moments, he began 3D-printing fluorescent light tubes from his own mass, the fragile glass weapons materializing in his grasp. With eerie precision, he hurled the tubes at Drexon, the arena lighting up with the flashes of shattering glass. Tiny fragments of Cerebrax himself detached and swarmed Drexon, each piece wielding a miniature tube and targeting vulnerable points with unnerving accuracy.
The commentators erupted in disbelief.
“Is this even legal?” one exclaimed. “Those are light bulbs! Are light bulbs considered furniture? We’ve never seen this tactic before in the GEWF!”
Drexon, caught off guard by the relentless assault, stumbled backward under the barrage. The fluorescent tubes shattered against his gauntlets and shoulders, the glass shards scattering across the mat. The crowd’s reaction was mixed—some cheered for Cerebrax’s ingenuity, while others booed what they saw as an underhanded tactic. Meanwhile, Drexon’s coach was on his feet, shouting at the officials and demanding a ruling.
“Cerebrax is exploiting the rules,” the commentator continued, his tone incredulous. “Light bulbs technically aren’t furniture, but this feels like a loophole if I’ve ever seen one! And look at Drexon’s coach—he’s absolutely livid!”
The referee stepped in, halting the match momentarily. “Light bulbs,” she announced, her voice firm, “are not furniture and are therefore legal. However, Cerebrax is in violation of the no allies rule. Body splitting, as clarified in the most recent GEWF updates, constitutes creating allies. The match will resume without the use of auxiliary nanites.”
The crowd erupted in cheers and boos, the arena a chaotic symphony of noise. Cerebrax retracted his scattered fragments, his form coalescing back into a singular entity. The pause had given Drexon just enough time to regain his footing, and as the match resumed, he roared with fury. The Graviton surged forward, his gauntlets whirring to life as he unleashed a devastating combination of strikes. Each blow reverberated through the arena, the sheer force of his attacks causing the very mat to tremble.
The momentum shifted dramatically. Cerebrax, unable to rely on his numbers advantage, struggled to keep up with Drexon’s relentless assault. The towering miner pressed his advantage, driving his opponent into the corner of the ring. Glass shards crunched underfoot as he delivered a crushing blow, his gauntlet slamming into Cerebrax’s shifting form. Sparks flew, and the crowd’s energy reached a fever pitch.
“Drexon is turning this match around!” the commentator shouted, barely audible over the noise. “The Graviton is unstoppable!”
The final moments of the match were a blur of motion and impact. Drexon, battered and bloodied but fueled by sheer determination, delivered a devastating uppercut with his gravity-assist gauntlet that sent Cerebrax’s shifting form crumpling to the mat. Sparks erupted from the AI combatant’s core as the impact reverberated through the arena. The referee dove into position, her hand slapping the mat with each resounding count.
“One! Two! Three!”
The bell rang, a triumphant clang that was almost drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. Drexon staggered to his feet, every movement a testament to the grueling battle he had endured. As he stood victorious, the mat beneath Cerebrax emitted a sharp electric pulse, jolting through the AI’s core and causing his shifting form to shudder violently before going still. In the GEWF, the fights were as real as the stakes, and the pinning condition on the mat in this arena ensured a decisive end. Cerebrax’s defeat was absolute.
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The commentators jumped on the moment with their usual flair. “And that’s it! Drexon ‘The Graviton’ Thorne seals the deal with that crushing uppercut! But look at Cerebrax—Ouch that’s a shutdown! He’s out, folks. It’ll take months to redownload him back to Cognitus, maybe years!”
Another commentator chimed in, chuckling. “Especially with Cognitus stuck on sub-empire standard data squirts! That’s what you get for downgrading your infrastructure. We might not see Cerebrax back in the ring this century!”
The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch as Drexon raised one massive gauntlet into the air, his victory pose raw and powerful. Fans erupted from their seats, their voices blending into a tidal wave of approval that shook the very walls of the arena. Meanwhile, a brief holo-ad popped up on the lower corner of the screen: “Empirical Data Squirters: The Best in the Biz for AI Revives. Because downtime is no time.”
The commentators struggled to contain their excitement.
“He did it! Drexon ‘The Graviton’ Thorne has pulled off one of the greatest comebacks in recent GEWF history! Against all odds, the underdog miner from Xandria Prime has taken down Cerebrax the Tactician in a match we’ll be talking about for cycles!”
Mikhail leapt up from his seat, the exhaustion of the day completely forgotten. He pumped his fist in the air, yelling along with the crowd. “Yes! That’s how you do it! That’s a legend right there!”
He bounded around the room in a burst of unrestrained energy, mimicking Drexon’s finishing moves in exaggerated fashion. Grabbing a pillow from the couch, he held it high like a championship belt, circling the recreation area with triumphant strides. The glow of the holo-screen cast flickering light across his face, his four eyes sparkling with excitement.
“The Graviton! Nobody can stop him!” he shouted, his voice cracking with the sheer joy of the moment. In that instant, he wasn’t just a kid watching a match—he was there, part of the action, imagining his name chanted by billions of fans across the galaxy. Michael Caine would one day stand in that ring, triumphant just like Drexon. He could see it, feel it, as real as the pulse pounding in his chest.
Mikhail sat transfixed, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. The match had been a masterpiece of strategy, adaptability, and raw power. He couldn’t help but analyze every move, every tactic, imagining how he might one day face opponents of similar caliber. The GEWF wasn’t just a dream—it was a world of endless possibilities, and he was determined to carve out his place within it.
The joy of free time overwhelmed the lingering stress from the maze challenge. For Mikhail, this was the best kind of day—a rare reprieve from routine and a chance to immerse himself in what he loved most. Since awakening here from Earth, one thing had consistently brightened his days: no matter how many channels he flipped through, there was always an amazing match airing on the GEWF channel. Wrestling wasn’t just a sport in the galaxy—it was the sport, a universal spectacle unmatched in its scale and intensity.
The hours until Communion of Families were spent in decompressive glee. Mikhail sprawled across the soft cushioning of the recreation area, absentmindedly toying with the Enhanced Planer Cube while match after match filled the holo-screen with high-octane action. Each bout was a masterpiece, showcasing wrestlers of unimaginable skill and creativity, their moves pushing the limits of physical and technological prowess. These weren’t just athletes; they were legends in the making.
One particularly captivating match featured a fighter from a biomechanical species, his fluid movements merging seamlessly with dazzling tech enhancements. Another showcased a battle in low gravity, the combatants leaping and twisting with surreal grace. Each match stoked Mikhail’s excitement, his mind racing with ideas and strategies he might one day use in the ring. The rest of the galaxy saw the GEWF as entertainment. For Mikhail, it was inspiration.
As the time for Communion drew near, Mikhail reluctantly turned off the holo-screen. The glow of exhilaration still lingered, but as he stepped into the dining hall, the atmosphere changed. The joy of the day dimmed under the weight of the room’s tension. Yeltrik and Janet sat across from each other, their expressions solemn. The bioluminescent patterns on their skin pulsed faintly, a visual echo of their unspoken emotions.
Mikhail’s mother looked almost pained, her usual composure tinged with a sadness that unsettled him. Yeltrik’s demeanor was stern, but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of something more complex—pride, concern, and perhaps even regret. As Mikhail took his seat, the air felt heavy with the anticipation of words that were difficult to say.
Finally, Yeltrik spoke, his voice steady but grave. “Mikhail, there is something you must understand about the maze challenge you completed.”
Mikhail straightened, his heart quickening. “What about it? I passed, didn’t I? You said I did well.”
Yeltrik nodded, but his expression remained serious. “Yes, you passed. More than that, you excelled. But the maze was not just a test of skill. It is a rite—a tradition within Shorebraxian culture, meant to teach pupae the limits of their mortality. To remind them that failure is not just possible, but inevitable, and that patience is as important as determination.”
Janet looked down, her hands clasped tightly together. Yeltrik continued. “Most pupae fail. That is the point. The maze is designed to adapt to the individual, to test their willpower and their capacity to persevere. Collecting the third fruit is considered passing. Collecting all four is extraordinarily rare.”
Mikhail’s chest swelled with pride. “I got all four, though. Doesn’t that mean I did better than anyone else?”
Yeltrik hesitated, glancing at Janet before answering. “You did. In fact, you scored higher than any pupa in recorded history. The cube reports its data back to a central ranking system—a list of all who have attempted the challenge. You are now the highest-ranked pupa ever.”
Mikhail blinked, the words sinking in. “Isn’t that… good?” he asked, his voice uncertain. “Why does it feel like you’re upset?”
Janet’s bioluminescent patterns dimmed further, her voice soft but strained. “Because, Mikhail, this is not something to celebrate lightly. Such an achievement draws attention—attention that could be dangerous. The maze was meant to be a lesson, not a platform. And yet…”
She trailed off, looking to Yeltrik for support. Her husband’s gaze met Mikhail’s, and for the first time, his voice carried a note of vulnerability. “You’ve shown extraordinary potential. But potential has a cost. The question now is whether you are ready to bear it.”
Mikhail’s pride wavered, confusion clouding his thoughts. “But why is it bad to be the best? Isn’t that what everyone wants?”
His parents exchanged a glance, their silence heavy with unspoken fears. Mikhail felt the weight of their emotions pressing down on him, and for the first time, the exhilaration of his achievement began to dim. He was left with questions that had no immediate answers, and a sense that his journey had only just begun.