After being teleported back to my Safe Circle, Grik left after wishing me good luck. As hard as he was to read in his demon form, it seemed like he had a lot riding on my success, just to add more pressure to my situation. He didn’t say as much, of course, but I could tell his situation here was dependent on how I did in the Trials. I didn’t ask him about it since I knew he probably wouldn’t tell me anything, but I suspected he would suffer the consequences if I failed to take down Floss and complete the First Circle. Such was life here in Infernum.
Infernova obviously needed their star players to build their shows around, and it seemed like they had their eye on me. If I failed to perform the way they expected me to, the megacorp would take their frustrations out on Grik. That was something I didn’t really want to happen. Grik may have been a demon, but he was no different to all the other souls in Infernum. His kind were creations of the Overseers just like humans were, only demons were created to serve and serve only. If they couldn’t do that, what use were they?
“I’ll see you on the other side, Kade, whatever happens,” Grik said, laying a clawed hand on my shoulder, his affection for me plain to see, even through his monstrous visage.
“Yeah, let’s hope so, Grik,” I said. “I’ll try not to let you down.”
“I know you won’t, Kade.”
We stood in awkward silence for a few seconds, before I asked him something. “Do you have a family, Grik? Or anyone you’re close to? Who are you doing all this for?”
Grik seemed taken aback by the question. “A family? No, demons have no such thing. Unfortunately, perhaps. We were given emotions so that we may better understand the humans we work with, but family was never a concept we were taught.”
“Then what do you do with your emotions? Do you feel love? Friendship?”
Grik’s empty eye sockets somehow seemed to dim slightly, and he took a moment before answering. “Love? Friendship?” He gave a low rumble that might have been a laugh or a sigh. “We feel everything humans feel, Kade. That’s the cruel joke of our existence. The Overseers gave us the full spectrum of human emotions but none of the social structures to process them.”
He moved to sit on the couch, his massive frame making the furniture look like a child’s building block. “Imagine feeling the depth of human loneliness, but never having learned how to hug someone. Imagine understanding the concept of family purely as an academic exercise, like studying a foreign culture you’ll never be part of.”
“That sounds... horrible,” I said, sitting beside him.
“It is what it is.” Grik’s claws traced patterns across the metal floor. “We cope by investing ourselves in our work, in our charges. Perhaps too much sometimes. It’s why many demons get so... attached to their runners in the Trials. We pour all our unused emotional energy into these relationships because they’re the closest thing we have to real connections.”
I watched his claws continue their absent drawing. “Is that what happened with me?”
Grik was quiet for a long moment. “You remind me of myself, in a way. Trapped in a system you didn’t choose, trying to maintain your humanity while forces beyond your control push you to become something else.” He looked at me directly. “When I mentor someone in the Trials, for those brief periods, I feel... less alone. Less lost. It’s selfish, perhaps.”
“It’s not selfish to want connection,” I said softly.
“Yes, well. I suppose the alternative is to exist in emotional isolation, to let these feelings the Overseers cursed us with eat away at us until we’re nothing but shells.”
I thought about all the little moments of genuine concern for me that had shown through his demonic exterior. “Do you ever wish you’d been created different? Without the emotions?”
“No,” he answered immediately. “The emotions are agony sometimes, yes. But they also let me feel pride in my runners’ achievements. Joy in their victories. Hope when I see someone like you fight against the darkness of this place.” He looked up at me. “The emotions make us vulnerable, Kade, but they also make us real. Even if we can never truly belong in your world or fully understand concepts like family, at least we can feel. That’s something the Overseers can’t take away.”
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “I think you understand family better than you realize.”
Grik made that rumbling sound again, but this time there was definitely pain in it. “Perhaps. But family is supposed to last. In my role, every relationship has an expiration date. Every runner moves on eventually, in one way or another.”
“Well,” I said, “I guess I’ll just have to stick around then.”
Grik grinned. “Yes, I would like it if you could, Kade.”
“And by the way, what have they offered you if you manage to mentor me to success in these Trials?”
“You don’t miss much, Kade, do you?” He paused. “If you must know, the opportunity to change my race. An opportunity you will have in the next Circle.”
“I’ll stick to being human, should it come to that. What about you?”
“I was thinking human as well.” He stood up. “Just think, Kade, we could be real friends then.”
Smiling, I reached up and put my hand on his hardened shoulder plate. “Grik, we’re already friends.”
* * *
When Grik was gone, I let out a long sigh and lit up a cigarette, taking out the whiskey, uncorking the bottle so I could take a sip.
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Strangely, I thought of my dad in that moment, and the night before my big fight for the Lightweight Championship. The guy I was due to fight was better than me in every way—he was fitter, stronger, and had better technical ability than I had, hardly losing a fight on the way to the top. He had successfully defended his title three times, taking out his opponents in the first round.
I remember sitting at home with my dad. We were watching Over the Top as I tried to relax before the big fight. I’d been training harder than I’d ever trained, was in the best shape of my life, and my skills were sharper than they’d ever been. But I still didn’t feel confident. I kept picturing my opponent knocking other guys out with his lightning fast kicks, or choking them into submission. Then I pictured him doing the same to me.
My dad paused the movie and turned to me, his face calm but his eyes intense, like he knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling. He didn’t waste time with small talk—he never did. He just looked me straight in the eyes, cutting through the noise in my head with that simple, steady gaze.
“Kade,” he said, his voice low and even, “I know you think you’re outmatched. I know you’re sitting here picturing yourself getting knocked out or submitted. Hell, you’re probably wondering if you’re walking into that ring just to fail. But I need you to stop that right now.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, as if he were getting ready to give me the most important advice of my life. “That guy might be better on paper—stronger, faster, more experienced. But none of that matters when you step into that ring. You know why?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The lump in my throat was too big, and I felt like a kid again, listening to my dad tell me the world wasn’t so scary after all.
“It doesn’t matter,” he continued, “because a fight isn’t just about skill, or strength, or how many wins the other guy has under his belt. A fight’s about heart, about how much you want it. And Kade, you’ve got heart. You’ve always had it. You’ve been knocked down more times than I can count, but you always get back up. That’s something no one can train for. You can’t put that on a stat sheet. You’re not going into that fight to survive—you’re going in to win, son.”
I shook my head, trying to find words, but he didn’t let me speak. He wasn’t finished yet.
“Look at Stallone in that movie,” he said, gesturing toward the TV. “Stallone’s character, he’s always counted out. Nobody thinks he can win, but he knows something they don’t. He knows it isn’t just about how strong his opponent is. It’s about flipping that switch in his head, turning on that belief that he can win. Once he flips that switch, it doesn’t matter who he’s up against. He’s going to damn well win because he refuses to lose!”
He reached out and gripped my shoulder, his hand strong, grounding me in that moment. “You’ve got that same switch, Kade. You just have to flip it. Once you believe you can win, nothing can stop you. Not fear, not doubt, not the guy standing in your way. You control this fight. You own it, son. It’s yours for the taking.”
I remember staring at him, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I was supposed to be tough, to be ready for this fight, but his words hit me in a way nothing else ever had. He believed in me, in a way I didn’t even believe in myself.
“Don’t get lost in the what-ifs,” he said, his voice softening just a little. “Don’t get lost in the fear of what could happen. You control what happens. You’ve worked for this, bled for this, and tomorrow night, you’re going to step into that ring and show the world what you’re made of.”
I nodded, swallowing hard, and he smiled, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “Now,” he said, “let’s finish this movie. Tomorrow, you’re going to do what you were born to do.”
We went back to watching Over the Top, but I barely saw the rest of it. His words replayed in my mind all night, and when I finally stepped into that ring the next night, I wasn’t scared anymore. I believed I could win—and I did. It wasn’t about the technical ability or the speed of my opponent. It was about flipping that switch, just like my dad had said.
Sitting now in the Safe Circle, the memory washed over me like a wave, and I couldn’t stop the tears from falling this time. I wiped my eyes, trying to pull myself together, but the ache in my chest was too much.
I missed him. God, I missed my dad so much.
But more than that, I knew what I had to do now.
I took a long drag from my cigarette and stared straight ahead. Floss might be stronger. He might be more experienced in this hellish game.
But none of that mattered.
I had something Floss could never have—heart. I’d been knocked down more times than I could count, but I was still here. Still fighting.
I could win this. I would win this.
If not for me, then for Annalise and Snuggles. Two people—one person and a plushie—that I had come to care about more than myself even.
Because in this place, caring about someone other than yourself was the ultimate act of rebellion.
It’s like my mom used to say to me. “Kade, the strongest thing you can do in this world isn’t fighting for yourself. It’s fighting for someone else. When you care about others, when you protect them, that’s when you’re truly unstoppable. Take it from a mother who knows,” she added with a smile.
Her words echoed in my mind, as clear as they had been the first time she’d said them. I’d been a kid back then, too young to fully understand what she meant.
But now, in this hellish place, I finally got it. Caring about someone else wasn’t a weakness. It wasn’t a distraction. It was what gave me the strength to keep going, to fight when I had nothing left.
And although my dear mother had lost her battle with cancer, she had fought harder than I’d ever seen anyone fight anything. Her strength put every fighter I knew to shame. Even at the end, she didn’t let the cancer win. She took matters into her own hands, gathered her family around her, and then went out in her own way. Peacefully, giving cancer the finger on the way out.
If I had half my mom’s strength, I could tear this whole fucked up world down with my bare hands, no matter who stood in my way.
But I had my mom’s strength, and my dad’s, I realized.
I was Kade fucking Dalton, son of the two strongest people I ever knew.
Standing up, I walked across the floor and opened the door to face the world outside, standing defiant with tears streaming down my face.
“Listen up, you sick bastards!” I yelled, my voice echoing across the wasteland of Limbo, knowing people across the galaxy were watching and listening. “You think you can break me? You want to watch me suffer? To break me down until there’s nothing left? Go ahead and try, because every punch, every trap, every sick game you throw at me only makes me stronger. I’ve lost before—lost fights, lost people even—but every time, I’ve come back swinging. And now, I’ve got something even better than survival to fight for. I’ve got people I care about, people who rely on me. And that makes me dangerous, so fuck you!”
I wiped the tears from my face, not ashamed of them, but strengthened by the raw emotion fueling my defiance. “I don’t fear you. Not any of you. You think you’re gods, pulling the strings from up there? You’re nothing but cowards, hiding behind screens and rules. Well, guess what? I don’t follow your rules anymore. I make my own!”
I took a deep breath, my fists clenched, my heart pounding. “So go ahead, keep watching. Keep sending your worst. But remember this: I’m coming for you. I’m not here just to survive these Trials—I’m here to tear this whole fucking system apart. And when I do, it’s your turn to run!”
“That’s it, son,” my dad’s voice echoed in my head. “Flip that switch! Show the bastards what you’re made of! You’re a Dalton! A fighter!”
Spent now, I wiped the tears from my face and headed back out into the wasteland of Limbo, ready to take down a monster and get my friends back.