Uru unhurriedly sauntered towards the main hall, proud and accomplished, replaying the previous scene in his head over and over. Way to end a conversation!

He went through the same guards as before – only this time taking the passage for new arrivals – showing them his provisional ID and smiling cheerfully. They looked at each other with questioning faces and shrugged, not willing to investigate the matter. Bernard was always professional, and they knew he was in a bad mood today. They were only waiting for Uru, since he was the last one, so they could wrap things up. All the adults had long completed their checks, because they didn't have a counselor like the minors did.

"Who is that kid?" asked one of them rhetorically. The boy's strange business with Bernard, new documents, and most of all his demeanor, it was so … out of place. He didn't even bother to pick up the pace, despite them telling him he better runs now. He just waved to them with his hand holding the papers, the other one in his pocket, and strolled away, as if everything was under control.

"I have no idea," the other guard answered, but only to express his bewilderment.

Of course Uru simply tried to delay the upcoming discomfort. It was always the same – whenever he entered a room, he was bound to draw attention. And now he was also late. The other arrivals had seen him before, but there was just as many new people here to welcome them, if not more. And then the awkwardness of a celebration and socializing. How he dreaded those. He exhaled deeply.

Little did he know!

When he eventually got to the main hall entrance, there was chaos. Several guards blocked the way, and many staff members trying to enter were bickering with them.

"Alright, you guys, go back to your duties! None of you are allowed!"

"Come on, man, we'll be so quiet nobody will even notice us!"

"I've finished my shift already!"

"Not a chance. Plebeians like us are not invited," the guards were not budging. "Everyone who was supposed to go in has already done so. There rest of you, disperse!"

Uru stood still and tried to figure out what was going on, when a guard noticed him.

"Don't tell me …" The man checked something quickly in the system and what he found visibly irritated him. "Show me your ID. What is this? Huh? Why are you late? Go in, hurry. Your group is leaving, join them quickly," he pushed Uru through the door without letting him say a word.

Inside the dazed boy finally found out the reason for all this commotion. The hall was transforming into a stadium! A display of flux martial arts was about to take place! And the best part of it all – nobody noticed him!

This day was getting better and better. Not only did he slink away from the welcoming party, but he also had a chance to witness battling powerhouses. For a regular person like him, this was unimaginable. Bouts between fluxers were never acknowledged as an official sport due to their lethal nature, and the best one could hope for were some showcasing exhibitions with fixed choreography. But they were frequently practiced in privately held events, also completely legal if everyone signed all the required wavers and the public held no objections, although this last point could be – and often was – firmly asserted by the ubiquitous advocates of trial by fire.

There were some faces Uru had seen among the migrants and many new ones, but for the most part they had one thing in common – they looked so rough one could scrape glass with them. Adventurers, warriors, mercenaries, natural born killers. Donning state-of-the-art armors, capes, swords, shields and other battle equipment, but not a single conventional gun. Plenty of scars mired them, surely kept intentionally, since they all must have been filthy rich. Their age spanned the whole spectrum – there were barely mature youngsters wearing fashionable designs, powerful individuals in their prime, their attire much more practical, but no less splendid, and wise elders with weighty appearances. Some women, but mostly men. It looked like a modern barbarian tribe's meeting.

If it was anyone else in Uru's shoes, they'd be petrified and suffocating from the pressure. But his reaction was as opposite as it gets – he felt elevated and utterly disregarded the stifling atmosphere. Due not only to his youthful fascination, but even more so to the fact that at last – for the first time in his life – he felt normal. Or rather, the environment around him did.

Those people were the cream of the crop in this world, and although he had no insight to their actual cultivation levels, based on their aura alone, he wouldn't be surprised if there were warlords present. Warlords! The anticipation made him high on adrenaline.

On the other end of the giant hall he could still see the last few minors disappearing through the exit in the company of many adults, mostly women, though it was hard to tell from the distance. No wonder the party was cut short, such characters were not ones to mingle. And because they had the authority, the rest was forced to leave and continue in a smaller venue. He knew he should run behind them, but he was too enchanted by what he was seeing. All those monsters …

… and now the arena was taking shape as well!

While the thousand or so people were crowded near the wall where all the furnishings were previously moved, the central platform sank into the floor and the inner layers recessed gradually to form a tribune. Pylons reached the ceiling, kinetic glass panels filled the space between them, flux arrays activated, the stage was lit.

The sight of the metamorphosis took the boy's breath away. It was a monumental structure, a full-sized stadium meant for championships.

He had heard about it before. "World Stage" it was often called. Arguably the best ring ever to be built, not even Earth had one in its port, and the hundreds and thousands of city stadiums paled in comparison. All thanks to the unrivaled power source of the dimensional facility and much more lax laws on this side, allowing for real, no-holds barred competitions. After all, the inhabitants of this realm were far more enthusiastic towards bloody spectacles.

Famed to be able to withstand battling warlords, the only one in existence. Though apparently that didn't occur, unless one was willing to pay for the repairs, which were inevitable after such a confrontation. And the whole thing cost as much as a battleship, so barely anyone would dare damage it, safe for those using it as a power play. However, absorbing the full force of archmages was trivial. Any attack that didn't crack the glass was also unlikely to leave a scratch on its flux-hardened surface.

"What are you still doing here?"

An austere voice suddenly woke Uru up from his stupor. The man next to him was rugged and dominant, his arms folded, he stood there seemingly on his own. Everything about him radiated strength and tenacity. The kind of man Bernard talked about … but Uru didn't realize it back then. To him, they all looked like they were cut from the same cloth.

Momentarily stumped, Uru laughed in embarrassment. He then made a 'hush' signal and gave an innocent smile. He was so drunk on the thrill that he felt no intimidation at all. In response, he got threatened with a finger.

"Boy, this isn't a show for children, gruesome scenes are going to happen," a stout elder behind the two of them chimed in.

"I don't mind," Uru assured, and turned back to the senior in order to better demonstrate his scar. He counted on it to garner him acceptance and approval of this venerated community.

But they just kept staring him down.

Eventually, this little incident started drawing the attention of other bystanders, so Uru gave a slight cough and excused himself. Only now did he notice that while marveling at his surroundings he had unknowingly wandered into a party of veterans. Plus he was extremely conspicuous in the provisional clothes he was given after arrival to put on his ultra-light jumpsuit, whilst everyone else present had already been fully decked out by their factions – that's if they didn't make the leap with their own gear, since evidently some were important enough to do so.

Uru maneuvered towards the wall and continued walking alongside it to avoid the spotlight, letting everyone focus on the action in front of them. He felt the penetrating gazes of the group from before, so he didn't dare turn around until he knew they couldn't see him any more. He then looked for younger audience. Hopefully they were going to be more sympathetic.

"Excuse me," he approached a young man around 20 years old, standing alone among his peers.

"Hmm? Are you allowed here? How old are you?" he was instantly questioned.

"It's fine," Uru was in his element by now, dismissing the scrutiny with a casual wave of his hand. "What's going on here?" he pointed at the ring.

"Weren't you at lunch?" The youngster was puzzled.

"I had lunch with officer Hughes, we had to discuss my special case," Uru generalized, already constructing his credibility.

"Oh."

Bingo! The guy's face betrayed he already had some misconceptions.

"It's exactly what it seems – the Greenhorns want a piece of Cybercore, and they just can't wait to get whooped."

"Aquila? Don't they make construction machines? Why do they have a beef with Cybercore?" Uru deliberated dispassionately, arms folded, trying to play it cool.

The Greenhorns was a derivative – and initially also pejorative, though it had long lost that meaning over the centuries – name for a heavy hardware manufacturer that supplied both the private sector and the armed forces, stemming from a silver eagle on a green background logo.

Cybercore, on the other hand, was the main producer of robotic workforce – be it bots for public service and industry, home androids or battle puppets – as well as miscellaneous subsystems related to both artificial and human intelligence. It was an illustrious and time-worn survivor of The Reckoning, founded still in the Dark Times, originally as a neuro-software company. It even played a part in the discovery of flux energy and stood with the Round Table during the apocalyptic war. Predictably, it boasted a significantly bigger capital.

"Who are you with?" the guy tentatively asked Uru, surprised by his ignorance.

"I'm on my own," the boy responded confidently.

"Who is this kid?" The young fellow couldn't figure him out. "Well, they thought they could take our market by storm with their cheap knock-offs, so they're about to be taught a lesson. Of course they know their puppets are junk, so they are trying to get some wiggle room with hired muscle."

"Oh, so it's going to be people fighting after all?" Uru was relieved that this wasn't going to be a mere battle of metal warframes.

"You're not really supposed to be here, are you?" The youth looked at Uru suspiciously. "You better be quiet and keep your head low if you want to see the show," he advised.

"Success!" Uru rejoiced.

He now understood this was basically a showdown between two superpowers. Both were gigantic existences in the solar system and often worked together, meaning the heavy machinery was operated and maintained by AI-controlled bots. For this reason Cybercore was always deemed superior. Besides, its market was larger. On New Earth, both were bringing their technological processes, blueprints and know-how to bare. And things were not as stable on this side as they were back home. Far from it.

This was going to be so exciting! Real powerhouses in real, bloody fights, right in front of him!

And judging by the young man's words, it was going to be with extra ketchup on top! Who didn't like a good brawl?

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a supreme voice welcomed everyone to the competition. Despite standing so far away, deep down Uru felt an unprecedented, eerie familiarity. "How do I … know him?"

The man was a grand personality, speaking in a lofty, official manner, because the event was being recorded and streamed on the outside.

"Warlord Immutable Mountain ! ! !"

Uru gasped for air, when he finally heard someone utter the shocking moniker. This was a legendary ancient paladin sent here by the Coalition at the dawn of new era to protect this world, still looking to be in his prime, since he broke through at a relatively young age. His real name all but lost in time, he was now known by this title. Idolized, admired and feared. Possibly the number one alive in terms of combat strength!!!

"… And so we decided to limit the cultivation to the 7th circle masters," the magnificent man declared, immediately arousing dissatisfaction of the crowd, especially those from Aquila, who were even shouting of collusion, on account of Cybercore's apparent lack of objections.

"Let's not insult each other's intelligence. We all know both your sides are prepared to go to extra lengths today, and there is no need for unnecessary bloodshed." The mighty man on the stage was unperturbed, as if he was dealing with children.

"Now, if any of you – our esteemed guests, or the ladies and gentlemen before the screens – want to gamble on the fights, let's do so in a civilized way. For the next ten minutes everyone may submit their bets to Enigma," this was the name of the AI overseeing the port's operations, whose holographic avatars Uru encountered during his walk through the hall, and even tried interacting with, "only the liquid funds you have on hand. No items, no deeds, no IP. If the score is decided within one hour, the winning side will share the pool according to contributions."

"I will be the arbiter. I do not take a side in this conflict, nor do I have a stake in it. No regulated weapons are allowed. You all know our policies. Any infraction will lead to immediate disqualification and conclude the event." Naturally Uru didn't know for sure, but he understood that aside from WMDs and flux impactors, there were various limits imposed on energy yields and lethal designs.

"Everyone can only fight once. Each side will take turns sending their challengers, to which their opponents will have to decide, how to match them. If I see a life-threatening attack, I will stop the fight and announce a victor, or a draw if mutual destruction was inevitable. Protect yourselves at all times. I will not be responsible for a loss of life resulting from your incompetence. If I see a participant is no longer sufficiently protecting himself – be it deliberately or due to injuries – I will stop the fight. If the situation is disputable, I will announce a draw and we will move on." Here he made a gesture and a hologram above him displayed a virtual coin toss.

"Cybercore will be the first to issue a challenge. Let's have a clean and fair competition!" He then started the timers for betting and the event itself.

The venue was instantly abuzz with speculation and debates, many people frantically operating their private access devices. From what Uru could hear, the consensus was that the decision to ban archmages was a shot in Aquila's foot. They had to bench most of their mercs now. This would basically mean an honest fight, which heavily favored CC. But that also meant attractive odds for GH, and since they may have still had a few aces up their sleeves, many tried their luck betting on them.

Cybercore didn't delay and sent their first combatant into the ring, a robust man in heavy armor and wielding a large two-hander.

"Challenger – Raging Bulldozer, 7th circle," the referee announced. It was customary for renowned fluxers to take on – or be given – nicknames and titles. "Who will be the contender?"

Soon a small figure made its entrance, and Uru found the contrast between the two a bit comical. But he knew looks can be deceiving – of course it was some kind of strategy, which was certainly going to be an essential part of the struggles. It may have seemed like a straight up comparison of who had more 7th circle mages, but proper matching could make all the difference. Besides, not all 7th circle experts were combat maniacs, and their experience varied as well.

"Death Adder, 6th circle."

"Oh, it's that little daredevil? Dozer better watch out."

"Yeah, it's a strong counter."

Uru heard some intriguing comments. This was going to be interesting.

Both fighters took a stance.

"Begin!"

The giant immediately charged a powerful spell, his blade glowing and humming, while the little guy was moving left and right, keeping his distance. After a few seconds, Bulldozer burst forth with great speed. It didn't look good for the puny Adder – a tidal wave of brute force was about to wash over him. And yet all he did was throw several weak, flashy balls of some kind of energy, that did nothing to impede his adversary, only erupted with a multitude of lights.

The hulking mass of metal crashed down on the small man, the blindingly white sword loudly cutting the air, and then … cutting him as well. Clean in half. As if he wasn't even there … and then the whole image began to mix with air like smoke.

Death Adder was already at his enemy's unguarded side, the massive weapon and both hands holding it swung far in the opposite direction. He pressed a short stick towards Raging Bulldozer's helmet, and it detonated upon contact. However, there must have been a strong shield in place, because a portion of the blast was visibly repelled, so the attack failed to do much damage. Additionally, the back of Dozer's hand also came back flying with huge momentum, threatening to decapitate if it landed on target. Adder barely dodged it and promptly disengaged.

Then, the next forceful discharge arrived at his location – all the energy previously gathered in the sword now formed a semi-transparent wave and ripped apart space along its route until it dissipated … for it didn't hit anything, either.

The small mage was very nimble and very brave. All the attacks he was facing were potentially lethal – they had a large output, he was overall much weaker in this matchup, and his armor was almost paper-thin. But he was skillfully using his flux energy to propel himself away from danger, often escaping it only by a hair. He was also constantly throwing decoys and even left a few concealed traps on the mat for his assailant.

How was he planning to win, though? Uru just couldn't see it happen. The other warrior was so much stronger, and so much better. He only needed to land a single hit, while nothing really did him any harm.

"It's not looking good," one of the youngsters next to Uru suddenly said with a scowl.

"Aren't they all from Cybercore?" Uru was surprised. It wasn't looking good for the big guy? "But the small one is already getting tired, and he was hit by shockwaves many times as well, no?"

But they were right, and Uru soon got the gist of it. Energy efficiency!

Slowly, but surely, Raging Bulldozer run out of power, while Death Adder sharply increased his tempo and picked him apart bit by bit.

"Amazing!" Uru was thoroughly impressed. The little fighter had great courage and nerves, that was for sure.

"Victor!" Immutable Mountain soon stopped the fight.

Aquila 1 – Cybercore 0.

…

Bernard's spirit was reignited and burning like a bonfire. He decided to go to the training hall anyway, but only to let out his excess energy, not pent up stress. He almost hopped on his way there.

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When he arrived at his destination, however, he found a perplexing sight.

"Where is everyone?"

It was completely deserted and in motion, neatly reconfiguring its layout. Now that he thought about it, he didn't meet anyone else in the corridors, either.

"Enigma, why is no one here? Status report!"

"Sir. There's a fighting competition underway at the stadium, everyone left to spectate," he heard a pleasant female voice in his head. "The minors will be arriving here shortly with their caretakers and all those who were not allowed to bare witness. There is one thousand …"

"Stop! How much time until–" Bernard didn't get to finish. The main doors opened and a crowd appeared behind them, their clamor filling the entire space. "Enigma, get me to the main hall without being noticed!" he hushed, already running to a side entrance.

"Sir. You were already–"

"By the people who haven't seen me yet!" he specified hastily.

"Wrong way. Back exit. Follow my instructions, sir," the AI promptly informed, and sent all the necessary data directly into Bernard's ocular display. After hiding behind one of the nearby panels that was now being transformed into a wall, he swiftly activated his core and established a combative cloaking field around himself, then reinforced his body and dashed for the distant exit at a lightning speed, which only took him a few seconds. Before leaving he turned around to confirm the situation.

"Scan for Eleanor Bell." He could not let her see him. He had no idea what to say to her, now that he got her message through Uru. That would be far too awkward for him, better to just wait until the fateful hour. Not to mention she would definitely drag him into the party, and he would have no heart at all to refuse, while he really wanted to watch the fights – and he knew they were going to be extra spicy. He could not miss them. "They couldn't even wait one day, huh?"

The system quickly found her entering with a group of friends and family and sent him a magnified image. She was fully engrossed in a conversation with her colleagues, beaming and beautiful as ever. Right next was her mother, and then …

… that woman.

Bernard froze. She was looking straight at him. He knew she saw him clearly through the cloak on her own display. They were staring into each other's eyes as if they were just meters apart.

"What an embarrassment!"

He mustered a comical smile and waved to her. She scowled angrily.

He crossed a point of no return. All that was left was hope. He put his hands together in a begging gesture and bowed deeply. And then he was gone.

…

Uru was having the time of his life.

The mages were going at each other's throats like mad. Every strike felt like it was meant to kill. Blood was often spilling on the outside from gashing wounds, and there must have been even more internal injuries. Bones and limbs were broken, one guy lost his helmet and received a scorching beam attack to the face, likely losing an eye, and another had his guts pierced by a blade. It was much more than Uru had bargained for.

He could not have imagined such fierceness and intensity in his dreams. Billions must have been on the line, and the priceless prestige.

Multitude of offensive, defensive and environmental skills and spells, combination attacks, flux-enhanced weaponry, decoys, traps. Some colorful and flashy, other almost invisible. Then the constant positioning and tactical moves, fighting for every possible advantage.

And all of it ensuing so incredibly quick that Uru barely kept up.

"How can they think so fast?!"

The tempo was really inhuman. And he had no screen to look at, only the stage. Everyone else probably had their own means to check the replays.

It was a huge eye-opener for the boy. He finally understood why the fluxers reigned supreme, and not technology. They adapted so fast and attacked so accurately, that a regular army would be decimated before it even reacted. And warmages? They would probably go through it like a lawnmower through grass. Although they weren't invincible and with enough firepower they'd fall eventually, they'd go out like lions, spreading panic and disarray between the slaughtered soldiers. But that was only a cursory glance that didn't do them justice – after all, they weren't blunt instruments, but surgical tools. It all boiled down to human nature – the strong ruled and commanded respect.

And those people were indeed just that. They were entirely unlike politicians, they didn't lead from a camp set up on a hill, but from the front lines, from the tip of the V-formation. That had an astonishing effect on others. It inspired morale, trust, and reverence.

Sure they could be rough and unrefined, had their quirks, weren't always sincere, and often stumbled clumsily if left without advisers. But in the eyes of the public, that beat being a cowardly, lying, manipulative scumbag hands down, every single day. So they were given great authority and influence, while the bureaucrats scrupulously considered their guidelines and completed all the formalities.

Inside the ring sparks were flying.

It was the 7th bout and the score was 3-3. The wisdom of the elders showed – every challenger so far was countered and beaten. After the first round, however, there was no more such disparities, the other contenders were all of similar cultivation to the challengers.

The fighters were evenly matched and traded multiple heavy hits, their armors manifesting severe wear. They were both at the 6th circle, though the challenger from CC, Adamant Knight, was very young, while Aquila had sent a battle-hardened old-timer against him. And the experience was proving its worth. Despite being more lively, the young mage was gradually outmaneuvered and exhausted. He was visibly getting nervous, his behavior more and more reckless.

"Ah!"

"Nooo!"

"What a faint! Well done, Wolf!"

"Ouch, that had to hurt!"

It happened so fast, Uru didn't even see it coming. Adamant Knight apparently extended his aggressive thrust too far, and his opponent stopped his wide attack midway only to twist impossibly, the blade scratching his armor loudly, and then brought his own sword down, cutting the hand clean off. An outburst of powerful force from Knight's shield immediately followed, throwing both of them away from each other.

Uru jerked and threw his hands up to grab his head, inhaling sharply. Although there was hardly any blood, as the flow through the incision was instantly arrested on both ends by a tissue stabilizing spell that the unfortunate victim had running in the background, sight of the tragic scene alone was enough to cause pain to those unaccustomed to such savagery.

"Stop!"

The combatants froze upon hearing the incontestable command. The referee leaped towards the lonely limb, picked it up, leaving the weapon behind, and made his way back. Luckily, the cut was very clean, so reattaching it later would pose no complications.

"Continue!"

Much to Uru's surprise, the paladin still deemed Adamant Knight capable of defending himself. However he looked at it, the situation was dire. And he wasn't the only one – the entire audience was on edge. The young man next to Uru even held his breath, balled his fists and started trembling slightly.

"Your boy fought well, Cronus, he has great potential," someone stated firmly in the brief silence, declaring the end of this fight, their tone as deep as the ocean.

"Shut up and keep watching!" was the impetuous answer he got in return.

This exchange triggered a tumult, but the action didn't stop. Conniving Wolf capitalized right away and went on a full offensive, confident in breaking the handicapped Adamant Knight. The youth was defending valiantly with his shield, but the outcome seemed set in stone. He was being beaten down. It looked like he was going to get pushed out of bounds in a few seconds. And yet, he kept giving his all.

Then, an unbelievable development arrived. When Wolf delivered another vicious blow, the youngster angled his shield and anchored himself to the floor, standing his ground when his shield exploded violently upon impact, ripping itself apart. Wolf's sword was thrown away, and he himself landed not far with a thud. Though he got right back up, when he turned to his opponent, the young mage's shoulder was already ramming into him. He attacked the exposed head while being thrown back, causing a concussive trauma meant to directly incapacitate, then landed on his feet, while Adamant Knight collapsed on his face, sprawled on the mat.

"Stop!"

The fight was decided.

"Out of bounds!"

Conniving Wolf looked down at the red zone under his heel with disbelief.

"Get up, Adamas! Get uuup!" the young man next to Uru roared with all his lungs could handle. Many others quickly followed suit.

Immutable Mountain watched the struggling youth for a moment, then arrived at his side in one stride. The Greenhorns were incessantly demanding a draw, since he was clearly knocked out. But in the few seconds the warlord had given him, he first supported himself with his only remaining hand, then got to one knee, and then – all shaking and convulsing from pain and exertion – began to stand up. Cybercore was ecstatic and kept shouting even more desperately, while Aquila was protesting openly. But Immutable Mountain heard nothing, only watched intently.

When Adamant Knight was standing again, albeit unstably, he took his helmet off and looked back at the old monster. He saw recognition.

"Victor!"

The stadium erupted. There were plenty of boos and voices of discontent, but they were mostly drowned out in the overall applause. Uru was also happy it ended the way it did. The young fighter truly had an unyielding heart.

"Oof, that was close. Nice save!" The guy next to Uru was greatly relieved.

The medics rushed into the ring, but Adamant Knight pushed them away. He went to pick up his sword, then lifted it high. It must have been a great shot for the cameras, likely to make the front pages, if CC won.

GH couldn't wait, though. They needed to catch up, and time was running out. They sent a 7th circle dual-wielder. Wolf passed him on his way out with a somber expression. He knew he was going to get punished for this, one way or another. "We can't lose this now!" His only wish was that they weren't defeated because of him, that would surely end his career.

"Challenger – Furious Thunder, 7th circle."

"Contender – Sanguinary Valkyrie, 6th circle."

"What?!"

"She doesn't stand a chance! Why her?!"

The youths next to Uru complained. It was a well armored, aging woman, the first one today. Not that there were so few female fluxers, the numbers were actually almost even – women just didn't fight as much as men did, their forte was a gentle touch, after all.

This one, however, made up for it with dedication and ferocity. Her opponent was incredibly strong – it must have been Aquila's ace. And yet she made a monumental effort and defended successfully for several minutes. It was obvious she would lose, but Uru couldn't understand, why did she prolong the fight so much? If Cybercore didn't have anyone to match Thunder, wouldn't it be better to forfeit and try to win the last confrontation before the hour elapsed? Or did they run out of fighters and were just trying to hold on? How did it make sense though, wasn't CC supposed to be superior to GH?

The score was tied again, with just a couple minutes left on the timer. If the next bout was still going once it hit zero, the whole match would end in a draw, and everyone would get their money back.

Theoretically CC was disadvantaged. It was their turn to send a combatant, and GH could then counter him with a proper pick. But the one they chose didn't try to postpone the conclusion – on the contrary, he swiftly took to the stage and loudly called out the adversaries.

"Don't even think about playing for time! Hurry and let's settle this!"

"Challenger – Crimson Emperor, 7th circle."

The audience stirred.

"It's him!"

"Finally! I was beginning to fear they won't field him!"

"This will be gripping! Will he make it in time?"

Uru was amazed. The man in the spotlight came from the group next to him, and looked even younger than the one he talked with before, yet he was viewed as a favorite? Uru had to admit he was very eye-catching among his peers – his whole apparel and armament were bound to be extremely expensive, and looked so fancy Uru would even call him a dandy, if he didn't know better. But what kind of combat experience could he have possibly had at this age?

Reality proved there must have been a good reason. Because Aquila was indeed stalling. This immediately caused a ruckus. Boos, whistles and jeers were hurled towards them. They couldn't do anything about it, though – even the referee urged them. Despite dragging their feet as much as they could, there was still more than one minute left when the fight commenced.

And it was immediately obvious, what was it all about.

An intense, jagged ray of energy shot out like a lightning from the spear held by Crimson Emperor. It was just a bright white line down the middle, but on the outside there were red, blue and some green auroras all around it, indicating the dissociation of nitrogen, oxygen and other trace elements in the air, the freed electrons arcing in delicate plasma channels. The crackling boom it produced was also quite spectacular, and the effect it had on the recipient left no doubts about its power.

"Disintegration?!" Uru was shocked. That was a famed ability used often by warmages to instakill. Although one needed to be an archmage to begin comprehending it, the formula could also be integrated into a weapon's frame to be used by anyone with a sufficient supply of energy. However, money alone wasn't enough to create one – a great specialist was also required. And the average warlord would never bother to make gear for lower realms, unless they cared about them.

Like their children, for example.

Untamed River, a grizzly 7th circle flux master, was already hiding behind a large shield to begin with, probably given to him purposely just to survive until the draw was secured, but he was hit square in the foot and immediately started limping. There was no knockback, only a visible spray of shrapnel exploding from the armor.

"Oof, Crimson wants to make an example of the poor guy," someone commented compassionately.

"Haha, he better surrenders now, they still have a minute to try and even out the score!"

"Yep. His majesty does not show mercy. River might even die if he persists."

Uru didn't see many brute force ranged attacks today. They consumed too much energy to carry out, and they could be dodged, blocked or deflected with far less expenditure. In a mere matchup it was paramount to be efficient, that's why flux-empowered melee was the standard way to go. A battle of attrition would end the moment one side run out of magic. So unless the caster was sure they would get enough return for the cost, they wouldn't risk it. The audience didn't seem to worry about that point, though.

The battle devolved into a game of cat and mouse, where the boy kept pointing his weapon at the old man, who was constantly moving away from him and defending. From time to time Crimson would find a suitable angle and fire off another beam. The veteran's mobility was quickly being impaired.

"Ehh, he's nothing like his brother …" the fellow next to Uru sighed regretfully.

The outcome was inevitable. The pitiful elder was disarmed and thrown away with a concussive blast. The youngster was already pointing his spear at the man tumbling through the air.

"Stop! Victor!" the referee saved him promptly. There was still 20 seconds left until a full hour.

Crimson Emperor took off his helmet and stood in the middle of the ring, striking a triumphant pose, while turning to Aquila. The entire venue went silent. Everyone was curious what would they do now. As expected, there was no more challengers.

"You're lucky the authorities saved your skin. Half of our people didn't get a chance to fight," a mighty voice sounded, the same one as before.

"Hmph, keep dreaming, Vulcan! As if we don't have archmages. The result would have still been the same!" the victorious youth answered right away, even though he was not the one being addressed.

"You're awfully conceited, kid. And ill-mannered. You should've let your elders talk." The admonishment carried great weight, but Crimson was unimpressed.

"The strong have the right to speak," he stated arrogantly.

"Is that so? I wonder, how would you fare against my new puppet? It so happens, I recently nurtured it to 7th circle."

The time had already run out, but Immutable Mountain just stood there and observed the argument, so nobody else dared interrupt, either.

"Haha, you seriously want me to fight a Greenhorn pile of junk? Bring it on, grandpa. Do you want a bet as well?"

"Lucius, behave yourself, you fool! Ignore his provocation and get back here already!" a thundering reprimand came from the CC camp.

"Come on, dad. You've won the match, what do you care? And I could really use some exercise."

"I said enough, boy!" After this stern rebuke Crimson Emperor finally quieted, but he still didn't move.

"The match is concluded, Cybercore wins 5 to 4. You may now retrieve your winnings!" the stately paladin took the chance to announce the results, which caused surprisingly little excitement. Most people were still watching the drama before them. Crimson felt like this was a good opportunity to add some fuel to the fire.

"What are you waiting for? Or are you all talk?"

"Oh, I'm just waiting for your parental permission to be granted," the warlord from Aquila replied casually, but the derision was glaring. Uru knew it was a warlord, because no reasonable archmage would cultivate a puppet to the 7th circle, it took too much effort. Maybe one that gave up on breaking through, or an old grandmaster, but the man's inscrutable aura told Uru it was not the case at all.

"I'm an adult man! I do as I see fit!" the youth flared with indignation.

"You do as I say! Get over here!" His father had enough, his fury evident.

"Dad, I've grown up. It's time I take responsibility for my actions," Crimson Emperor declared calmly, but his face was changing colors, betraying his rage and embarrassment – the cameras were still rolling.

"Very well, let's see what you've learned. Cut the feed, please," a chilling consent arrived after a short pause. Everyone understood the context. Warlord Cronus clearly meant for his son to be taught a memorable lesson the hard way.

"There's no need, I'm sure everyone watching is dying for an encore," the resentful boy had no intention to give anyone face.

"This is not your decision to make," Immutable Mountain's strict remark promptly brought him to reality. The dignified man gave a polite closing speech and sent his best wishes to the audience behind the screens. He then looked deeply at Aquila's leader.

"Relax, I won't kill him … Sir," were Vulcan's only words before he disappeared.

The atmosphere quickly got menacing and foreboding. It was serious business challenging an 'immortal', and in such a contemptuous way, too. Sure, Crimson Emperor was supremely talented and geared, and using a warframe wasn't the same as fighting personally, but the vast knowledge and experience of an apex powerhouse was not to be trifled with. Even if he was handicapped in motor coordination and sensory feedback, he surely had ways to make up for it.

The young man was rapidly recharging from a large battery he was presented, when a slender warframe emerged.

"That's our product!" he instantly voiced his outrage.

"Oh? Am I not allowed to buy from you?" a loud voice boomed from the stadium speakers. The spectators felt sorry for the kid. How blinded he was by his ego! Of course it was a customized CC puppet, why would Vulcan get an inferior one?

"Hmph, you only admit our superiority!" Crimson announced haughtily.

"Boy, I never questioned it in the first place. Our sole purpose here is to put an end to your rip-off prices for low-end models." The warlord's rebuttal was unperturbed. "No more talk now, let's see what you're made of!" Seeing the nitwit wanted to keep squabbling, he cut him off on the spot and took an offensive stance, ready to pounce. His agitated opponent soon recovered and did the same, already taking aim.

Uru saw many videos of competitions between battle puppets. At first they were AI bots, and even though AI got really good, it was still just a program, prone to get stuck on obstacles it never experienced before, and was thus often caught unprepared. But man always wanted to be the one steering them, such fights were a showcase of finesse and held much more potential. That's why neural interface remote control jumped leaps and bounds in that period, owing its success partly to mankind's everlasting drive towards innovation, partly to the unquenchable thirst for the ultimate form of entertainment. Eventually it came to the point where mages resolved to congealing secondary cores, putting them into machinery and delivering just that.

"Warframes" quickly became a world-wide hit, trouncing all other events in viewership, and rightfully so. The battles were absolutely stunning, even though they were a legacy of a bygone era. They were spectacles of untamed violence, frenzy and madness, that were simply impossible between humans. Epic in scale, humorously commentated, with unseen before production values, a true spirit of sportsmanship, and even kids could watch them. Employing a freestyle format and non-scripted banter, it was a family-friendly show no one could get enough of. The contestants ever gallant, well-spoken and amusing, they promoted respect through mutual destruction, and people loved it to bits.

All this created a fertile ground for progress – because the teams were motivated by fun, rivalry, prizes, fame, and all kinds of healthy feelings, the evolution of warframes was astonishing. Unfortunately, this also led to their abrupt downfall in the public domain. Rogue elements swiftly applied the top-quality learning material to crime and terrorism, so the show – despite being a river of gold – was taken off air many times and downgraded, until it was banned completely. The experts were all lured away by lucrative contracts, and warframes became closely guarded secrets.

Vulcan's puppet was very different from the past generations. It had no skin or any unnecessary anthropomorphic features, it only moved like a human, probably weighed as much, too – obviously to give the controller a better sense of familiarity. It looked fast, agile and lethal. Uru had no doubt it counted as a regulated weapon.

"It is not too late to end this peacefully." Immutable Mountain stared at Crimson Emperor earnestly, but his response was unexpected.

"They started it. A public apology would suffice."

Vulcan burst with laughter so sincere, and so powerfully amplified by the stadium's audio system, that the effect was overwhelming – many people were shaken and felt heavily subdued. He then locked his cybernetic eyes with the paladin. "Let's get this over with."

"The moment your life is in danger, I will end the fight and declare your loss," the arbiter then said to the youth, who no longer looked so confident. "Be careful, I might not be able to react in time," he warned. And then he initiated the fight.

But the warframe didn't even flinch …

… and yet no attack came. Crimson just waited, pointing his spear at the machine, which stood relaxed in a provoking manner, wide open and vulnerable.

"He's already lost," Uru heard a comment from someone nearby. The whole group of youngsters next to him was also gloomy and morose. The psyche of a vain boy was no match for a warlord.

The stalemate lasted quite a while. Nobody could see him under the armor, but they all knew Crimson was sweating. They also knew that the longer he waited, the worse it was going to get for him.

The first to move – albeit by milliseconds – was actually Vulcan. He jerked sideways, and an inescapable disintegration beam promptly came …

… but it missed, because he had never left his original spot. He was now waving his finger chastisingly at the youth. Not attacking.

"Ahh, this is going to be painful to watch …" the young man next to Uru sighed.

Soon, another colorful ray of light descended, this time hitting properly. And yet, the result was underwhelming – the explosion was far less devastating than all the previous ones. The warlord must have shielded himself skillfully. But before Uru even realized that …

… the puppet had already blasted past the entire distance that separated it from the human.

Crimson wanted to maintain range, but he reacted too slow. Melee fight soon ensued, and the slick warframe glued itself to him, unrelenting, only using its limbs to deflect the spear and kinetic attacks. The youngster tried everything he could to separate himself from his adversary, to no avail.

From Uru's perspective, however, it seemed strange – the machine was getting pummeled. He could barely keep up with the action, but since there weren't many blinding spells used, he could clearly see that all it did was stay within arms reach of Crimson, who didn't receive a single blow yet, though he certainly was using up a lot of energy. But would the puppet last long enough? After all, aside from multiple concussive blasts it also occasionally received point-blank jagged rays of destruction.

The resolution soon arrived, and it was not what Uru expected, not at all.

Vulcan managed to grab the spear and finally had a chance to land a solid hit, but … he used it to slap his opponent with full force instead. A loud metallic clang reverberated throughout the hall, and the warframe jumped away. The force of the impact definitely carried on to the brain, as the boy lost his bearings for a split second, even though he must have had a high-level cerebral stabilization field active. Weirdly enough, the warlord didn't press the advantage, resorting to provocation yet again. He stood nonchalantly with one hand behind his back, and beckoned with the other one.

That was it for Crimson.

"Don't do it!" someone bellowed in the fleeting stillness, but he ignored it.

Enraged, he charged at Vulcan and unleashed a plethora of skills and abilities. Bright and colorful flashes, sparks, metallic clamor, crackling explosions and sharp booms of countless shockwaves filled the ring. Uru lost track of the individual moves, it all blended into a single magnificent display of might. But it was short-lived.

The warframe suddenly erupted – in a literal sense. It was as if it turned into a firework and blew up in a million embers. When Uru saw it again through all the lights, it was propelling itself forward in a massive burst of power, its hand lodged into the belly of the airborne boy, who practically bent in half.

And then many colors appeared, but mostly red, blue and some green …

… accompanied by the crackling sound of a very potent explosion.

Crimson fell limply to his knees right in front of the puppet, as if begging for mercy. The silence among the audience was instantly broken by gasps, sighs, shouts and various comments expressing dismay, dread and terror.

But Vulcan didn't get his moment of triumph, because Immutable Mountain was swiftly upon them. The paladin grabbed and immobilized the shocked youngster, tore off his smoldering armor and the fabric underneath it, made a large incision with an invisible blade extending from his finger – which caused the boy to scream in panic like a slaughtered animal – he then took his hand, put it into the cut he had just made, and then …

… Uru's view got suddenly obscured by a stalwart man. He looked up at the stern face. It was very familiar.

And very angry.