For a hundred years, I traveled seeking hope for Nox. Seeking means for gaining galactic currency. My mission saw me journey across all twelve planets, including temporarily servicing one Monarch 3 queen with a taste for submission.

[SS]: Yeah… My eyebrows are up, and all Korac offers me is a wink. I guess we don’t get those details.

Trust me, amos. Not all of my adventures—no matter how exotic—are worth telling here. But I know you’ve been dying to ask me about the matches Puk mentioned when we first met.

[SS]: I may have moved to the edge of my seat.

He’s pecking me a kiss.

Your curiosity is so charming. But your respect for my privacy—resisting the urge to pry—matters more. I’ll reward you with a look into the underground of this very planet [redacted].

Reipon’s Obsidian Palace.

I believe you’ve seen it.

[SS]: Only one place comes to mind. “Where Imminent held the gala, and Razor took me as his guest?”

Carved out of polished onyx and volcanic glass, it’s another gorgeous facade to disguise a realm of sin much like the Emporium of Exotic Experiences. Beneath the Obsidian Palace’s elegant vestibule of ballrooms and conference halls—pain, sex, and death prevailed.

It was there that I came into my own.

{200 CE}

“So, am I in?” I asked the Pil dwarf in his gunmetal mechsuit.

Tall for his kind, his mustache stretched into his sideburns which only served as a frame for his bald head. All of it black, including his unusually large eyes. He matched the surroundings.

The tall, short man looked me over before muttering to the Lyrik standing beside his podium.

Now, it was my understanding that the Tritans decommissioned many of the bird-like females after they failed to take Cinder. Not even the Primaries kept them as personal guards. Supposedly the only remaining of their kind worked the prison on Gait.

Come to think of it. This one was familiar. Black feathers with orange streaks—

“Miy?!”

Orten—the dwarf—chuffed incredulously at my attempt to gain the beautiful woman’s attention.

The full-figured Lyrik, dressed to flaunt it, ignored me. She acted as if I didn’t speak at all, and certainly not as if I cut my BDSM teeth on her backside. Turning on her heels, the short woman took somehow leggy strides up the onyx staircase.

The stairs swept grandly to the owners’ boxes. Luxury nacre-glass apartments that surrounded the hexagonal ring. The entire basement mimicked the shape to afford the best views for the one percent—

“Next, we have a property dispute requested by Lacceirus-Capra’s four hundred and thirtieth Governor. You get to see it settled here, our distinguished guests. The Boulder Accelerator and Carbomax.” In a smaller voice, the dwarf announcer muttered a disclaimer, “Acid warning. Step back ten feet from the ring. You were warned and any injury or death resulting from collateral damage is not the responsibility of the ring owners or the organizations they represent.” He got loud again. “Fight!”

The fattest—there is no kind word for his shape and size—Caprent man I ever saw stepped into the ring with another of his kind, only exceptionally tall. So tall that his head scraped the top of the fifteen-foot cage.

The audience laughed. It was so absurd to see. Until he crouched in his reverse-bent joints. With a proper stance, he was trained and ready to go. Both of them looked fierce with the determination to win the prize of nine hundred thousand credits in disputed property sparkling in their fluid sloshing eyes.

And both of them wore togas.

Can’t forget to mention that.

[SS]: Once again, I’m smiling at him. “Maybe we should see if Kombuchi wants to take out Imminent with us.”

The Caprent from Volcano Day who had a thing for dissolving my drakes?

[SS]: “Yeah. That one.”

The more the merrier, but I’d pay to see one as big as the Boulder Accelerator fight on those reverse-bent joints again. I kept waiting for the pressure to break his knees. But the fighter knew how to move that weight around and occupied all the available space confined within the cage.

Carbomax found no quarter.

Unfortunately, I missed most of the match because Miy returned. This time, she looked at me. “What name will you use?”

Naming things was more Xelan’s realm. I considered this and trusted that instinct. “Silver.”

Orten looked expectantly at her.

She quirked an irritated brow at the dwarf. “The boss says to put him down.”

Writing the name and looking over the lineup, Orten declared, “All right, ‘Silver.’” He spared a second here for another chuff while muttering, “Such a pretty boy name.” Before clearing his throat and continuing, “You may start four nights from now—”

“Tonight. The boss wants him to fight…” She scanned the dwarf’s official schedule and pointed. “This one. Keep it to yourself. He wants the audience to witness an unexpected challenge.”

Orten’s mouth gaped before he stuttered his way back into the conversation. “Yes. Of course. I… I can arrange that.” He kept glancing at me. Mostly with pity.

I smirked, almost to reassure him, and catching Miy’s gaze again, I declared, “Nothing here will challenge me. I come from Cinder and Hell before that, but you seem to forget that, Warden.”

Miy gave an avian tilt of her head. “I never forgot you, contaminant. I was always this rude.” And then she strutted back up the stairs.

Almost sheepishly, Orten elaborated, “She tells the truth. Rude is her only social grace.”

I frowned only because I remembered her differently. A little hurried, but somewhat caring.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

[SS]: “So that wasn’t her. That was Razor, right?”

I believe that to be the case.

[SS]: “Wow.”

Oh, it gets worse. Hang tight, amos. We’re circling the drain.

The Caprent match ended with a spectacular spray of acid that wiped out ten members of the audience, much to the loud satisfaction of the customers. I missed it. But I watched the remaining fights, unconcerned for my own. Two fighters—male or female—entered the sunken hexagonal ring. The cage roof kept most of the violence contained. Meanwhile, spectators watched from the multi-tiered honeycomb room, all carved in onyx and cleaved obsidian. Witnessing the end of a fight proved impossible for all the gamblers who stormed the barricade to shout abuse at the fighters.

All death matches. All messy.

I found the latter distasteful as I considered how I wanted to make my mark. Seeking demand, I needed a reputation to earn the credits to fund our second invasion. Although Nox lost hope after Celindria’s death, I believed the Progeny lines held the key.

My mission: fund and continue our second invasion efforts while maintaining surveillance on the descendants. Specifically, Celindria’s.

In this moment, it meant fighting for money.

“Silver?”

I turned to find a female Pil dwarf.

She smiled with a slight blush at me. “You fight next. This way.”

Before I followed her into the green room, the hair raised on the back of my neck and my instincts went on full alert. Someone was watching me. Casually, I turned and glanced around the entire space as if taking a last look, but I was really searching for the culprit.

Nothing.

Unconvinced, I went with the woman who showed me where to change and prep. Sweetly, she offered wraps or maybe props to get the crowd going. I patted my whip and grinned at her. “Got everything I need right here. Thanks.”

Blushing and smiling again, she left me to prepare.

Wearing a half open kimono and some loose pants, I simply stripped to my bare chest and shoulders—

[SS]: “Uhm, babe. Did you need to demonstrate that to me?”

He nudges my mouth shut with a gentle touch.

Soon. Shh… Don’t shiver like that. I may ignore the word count requirement altogether.

[SS]: I promise I’m okay and not drooling. Ahem. Back to work.

Like I said. Shirtless. Classic fighting gear. No need to pretty it up. Although, I could always do with a kilt. After sweeping my hair from my face with an oriental pin, I entered the ring with my whip on my hip.

The announcer gawked at me. All the audience hushed. Finally, the short man shook himself back to a professional demeanor and declared, “Silver versus Hive Mind.”

A Mon3 drone entered the ring. He was a perfect copy of Inmate Thirty-Two straight from my childhood trauma. Wriggling beside him was one of those blasted young of theirs. The horned caterpillars.

[SS]: “Oooo. Like the ones that ate a few of your men when you and Nox fell into that pit on Monarch 3?”

I swear you can make me laugh at my worst nightmares. They sound so absurd when you repeat them, but yes. One of those caterpillars.

Hive Mind’s multi-faceted eyes reflected the shining surface surrounding us with me at the center. The young drooled a pink secretion. It smelled so nasty. Like vinegar.

The three of us stared at one another as the announcer turned my world upside-down. “A grudge match for the ages. Is there any crime greater than parting brothers before their time?”

I almost startled.

“Hive Mind is looking for revenge. And Silver is looking for another Mon3 trophy to add to his collection. Are you ready out there?!”

The crowd salivated appropriately while I reeled at the revelation.

“Fight!”

Fucking seriously?! Incredulous, I frowned at my opponent. He couldn’t possibly believe—

I was a child!

But he believed it, and he flew at me in a flurry of buzzing wings. The young inched at me—Footed at me? It was moving much in my direction.

Backing against the cage, I was still reeling. How did he find me? How did he ever learn about it? And could I convince him—No, there was no way. This was the Yu Brothers all over again.

Fuck it.

I opened my wings—

The crowd gasped and awed.

—I met Hive Mind in the air and punched him as much to knock some sense into him as to assess his physiology. His weaknesses.

He landed a good gut punch. The kind that knocks the air out of you, but I’d been hit by harder. A blow while sparring with Nox is like getting punched with a cement truck.

Using my superior wingspan, I flipped us and pinned the butterfly to the cage ceiling. There, I punched my teeth in his shoulder. Mon3 blood is slightly fruity. Normally an intimate act—sure—but it let me rip a chunk out of his collarbone.

He screamed in pain. Pain is confusion. And that is useful.

Until his young spat some of that pink shit on my calf. I hissed as it corroded into the meat of that muscle, which spasmed in retaliation. It smelled fucking nasty.

Hive Mind took advantage of my superior injury and kicked me with both feet back to the ring. The caterpillar looked to spear me with a horn on its head, but I spun up onto my feet in time to kick it in the face.

At its pained shriek, Hive Mind lunged onto my back.

Even with my dissolving calf, this was too easy. I jumped and squashed him beneath me.

I’d had enough.

Flying to the edge of the ring, I put some distance between us. Remember, I said I disliked the spectacle and desired only the kill. Well… nothing could be more efficient than a bone-barbed whip.

I lashed out, and it wrapped around Hive Mind’s neck. Quickly and easily, I decapitated him in a wash of pink blood. Without its parent, the caterpillar stalled for lack of instructions. Before the stunned beast could react, I gripped its two front horns and ripped its head open. Split right down the center of its “face.”

I was coated in pink, fruity viscous ruin.

And no one made a sound.

Now remember, until this point, someone or something distracted me from seeing the matches’ end. So I missed this particular detail each time.

A small woman appeared in the center of the ring. Frail and beautiful, she commanded all the attention I garnered. Her dark skin looked ethereal in a pale purple dress that matched her eyes.

“T.a.o.”

She smiled at me, full of pride and admiration. Softly, she urged, “Away or perish.”

Slightly confused, I stepped back.

Small conduits opened beneath the various parts of Hive Mind and his caterpillar offspring. They sunk into portals onto what looked like a barren world. Once finished, she closed them and faced me again. “Here I am—”

Clapping.

One pair of hands clapped behind me. We both looked out at the man approaching the ring. He wore a black tuxedo, including a top hat and a cane—mind you, these clothes didn’t exist at the time. Anywhere.

“Stellar, Silver. Although, I expected no less from the General of the Icarean armies of Cinder!”

Now the crowd went into a ruckus.

Okay. So he knew me. But… “Who the hell are you?”

T.a.o. giggled behind me and touched my arm gently before Seamswalking to the man’s side.

The stranger with pale skin and hard red eyes swept off his hat and gave a small bow. “Razor. I’m your sponsor, and I own this place.”

Miy slinked up beside him and held onto his offered arm opposite T.a.o.

Oh.

“Can I get my credits now?”

Razor announced to the crowd, “No fight ever ended sooner. Silver decimated the standing record in a beautiful massacre of a family legacy. How about more applause?”

Again.

[SS]: Sheepishly, I ask, “You didn’t like the admiration?”

Yes, and no. I prefer attention for something I actually did. The history with my opponent was coincidental for me. I never imagined… I felt caught in someone else’s lie. And I was.

After touching my wrist, Razor insisted I follow him and T.a.o. to the owner’s box to receive my money. There, he offered me a contract to fight five more opponents and receive a stipend of five million credits. Only if I managed to kill them in relatively the same amount of time.

“Consider it done.”

The Pain Curator grinned at me with glittering red eyes. “Excellent. I look forward to doing business with you.”

But truthfully, I wanted to talk with T.a.o. alone. To find how she came to be here. How she was friends with someone like Razor. I worried about her vulnerable mental state.

“I return you to star world? Hug the lonely King for me.” Before taking me back to Cinder, she turned to say goodnight to Razor. “In the morning?”

He smiled sincerely for her. “In the morning, dear. Be safe.”

Then she walked us to the ashen planet I called home. In my room. It touched me that she remembered. I took advantage of the lack of an audience. “T.a.o., are you all right? Have you been there all this time? What of the other Progeny?”

Her smile reflected Razor’s, sincere and warm. “So very happy. Razor searches for my brothers. They…” When her face fell, I wanted to kick my own ass for bringing her down. This was clearly a preferable arrangement for her.

I brushed her wavy hair from her face. “Does he make you do anything… Are you always comfortable with him?”

“He lost his heart, and I help him search for it.” T.a.o. touched a hand to her chest. “He protects me from the Seam.”

Out of practice with her way of speaking, I reeled a bit to interpret it, but I would see more of her if I took on those matches. Check in on her as needed. “Good. I am happy for you. Please come to me if you need me.”

Abruptly, she jumped into my arms. Elden… she is a tiny woman. I thought her bones might break if I squeezed back. Meanwhile, she almost crushed the life out of me.

Releasing me, the first Seamswalker squeezed my hand before returning to that den of vice. I went to check on Nox, who I found staring in a catatonic state at Elden’s throne.

And all along, Razor was warding Gait, holding the Aegis within that prison.