Sand Pits, Lava Field
Three booms echo across the baron lava field, as Fixer Albrecht begins a breaking maneuver. In response a dozen hatches open, scores of Dragon Born pour from the openings flooding the crusty black surface in determined resistance.
Brown robes with golden symbols representing the technological finds that granted them their accension from Friar to Brother flaps in the gale force winds blowing from the south.
Fugeki Ogen Lash takes the spear tip of the formation. Behind him thirty of his best friends gather behind.
Albrecht sees the scurrying gremlins below and chooses to drop in front of the point man who he recognizes as the disgraced Vice President of Production, Ogen Lash.
Albrecht, like his contemporary Cairn has no need for subtleties, smashes into the ground five yards from Ogen’s position. Vulcanic rock atomizes, sending razor sharp debris in every direction shredding robes and flesh alike.
Ogen doesn’t flinch when his face becomes crisscrossed with superficial slashes seeping blood. He’s more concerned with the sorry state of his brotherhood robe, until he remembers that he’s been reborn. He now has an even higher calling than maintaining The Dragon. He now serves the Glorious Lady Drako.
Albrecht straightens his stance in the lapilli ringed crater and takes stock of the mortals standing before him. They look as pathetic as he expected. Vacant thoughtless eyes, unkempt robes. The closest few are already bleeding.
“I must thank you for coming out from your hole. You’ve saved me some time.
Lash only grins as he defiantly declares with perfect diction, “I thank you for coming all this way to swear your fealty to her glorious magnificence, the Lady Maddison Zefiris Drako.”
Making a face of disgust, “You mistake my intensions. I’m here to kill you.”
Fugeki Lash looks skyward, “I know, but I hold out hope that all her previous devotees will return to receive her gifts.”
Ignoring the disgraced priest’s response, “Hope? How can you hope to survive the day?”
Standing up straight, displaying his full 74-inch height, “I have more than hope, I have the gift of rebirth.”
Yara’s fixer mistakes the term, Gift of Rebirth as a reference to the city state by the same name and fails to make the connection, “You’ve lost your accent and you’re taller than I remember. I should visit there more often.”
Resuming his russkiy accent, “If make you feel better, I can return to old way of speaking; and hearing the arrogance in your words I am inspired to stand tall and proud of what I have become.”
Feeling cocky, Albrecht decides to humor the unusually tall priest, “And what exactly have you become?”
Gesturing to his thirty odd companions, who have quietly formed a wedge behind Ogen “We are Dragon Born.”
Laughingly, “Ha, you fanatics can’t help but define yourselves by your feckless idol.”
Ogen Lash is calmer than he should be after hearing such blasphemy, loses his accent again, “You say we define ourselves foolishly? When your disciple, that you serve without question, claims to value productivity over all else, wastes an hour a day to maintain her carbon-black skin pigmentation.
“A thing she does that pointlessly defines her identity. How much more productive could she be if she abandoned the pursuit of identity and simply tried her hardest to be the best disciple?”
Threats are one thing, question his disciple is another; Fixer Albrecht unzips the front of his grey coveralls and allows them to drop from his shoulders. That action and a subtle shift in his stance warns the Fugeki an attack is imminent.
Albrecht didn’t gather any impact energy from his landing because he was already holding his maximum limit. Leaning forward focusing his intent, Disciple Yara’s head mechanic, Fixer Albrecht looses all the joules of kinetic energy he was holding. A pressure wave just below the speed of sound propagates in an expanding cone, tearing through the three dozen judas priest’s turned Dragon Born.
Vulcanic rock and ash are pulverized, reduced to razor sharp grains of broken shards of crystalline destruction. Robes are shredded, flesh explodes, a cloud of black dust covers the once featureless lava field.
Fixer Albrecht smirks as the after image of their exploding bodies replays in his mind. Patiently he waits for the persistent southern wind to clear away the choking rhyolite dust.
Thirty plus pairs of red glowing eyes are the first to pierce the dense cloud of dark shattered glass particles, Fixer Albrecht doesn’t know what to make of them until a final gust clears away the last of the sharp dust obscuring the traitors to his obsidian-skinned master.
Thirty-three figures stand before Albrecht, unmoved by the violence unleashed upon their bodies. Dragon-scale mechanized bodies stained in burnt blood stand at attention. Humanoid of shape, with clothes and flesh stripped away, gears, and flywheels with purposes unknown spied between the gaps in protective plates.
Fugeki Lash with eyes of glowing crystals looks down on the fixer sent to exterminate him and his followers.
“You will not find easy prey here, nor will I allow you to leave.”
Albrecht isn’t stupid and knows he isn’t prepared for this, he must deflect and delay, “Ogen is that really you?”
Having nothing to lose, Ogen Lash plays along, “Her gloriousness has elevated her most loyal priests to Dragon Born. If you find this body half as alarming as I do, you should be terrified.”
Fugeki Lash continues, “You should return to her gloriousness, she can give you so much.”
Looking at the meta-obsidian humanoid before him, Albrecht is sure he doesn’t want this for himself, “That’s ok. I’ll return to Disciple Yara and let her know you still serve the Dragon as you should.”
Ogen shakes his head as his skin begins to slowly regrow around his dragon scale face, “I am sorry Albrecht. You will not be returning to Yara, unless of course you prove your loyalty by accompanying me to the sand pits to be remade in Her image.
“That’s not going to happen,” Albrecht surges forward and throws a punch at Ogen’s flesh covered face.
Ogen was once limited to Judo, now he can access more forms of combat than the War Born of the old world. In this instance, the popular Wing Chun technique will suffice. A sweeping block fueled by synthetic muscles is followed by an elbow strike to Albrecht’s face.
Stunned by the strike, Albrecht steps backward in disbelief at being struck. The counterattack happened faster than his brain could follow. Had he not been able to capture the impact, his head would have exploded. Using his ability to speed his thoughts wasn’t enough, while his own attack seemed to crawl, the block and counter were a blur.
Hold depleted of kinetic from his opening move, leaves his therms, with them he can hope to hit a target that moves faster than thought. Albrecht manifests a four-yard diameter of fire and collapses it inward. Certain to capture his prey in his trap, he doesn’t mind the fire damage that bleeds through as he recaptures the collapsing inferno.
Disappointment blooms when he realizes he’s now alone until a moment later, Ogen Lash lands back in front of the slightly singed fixer.
Albrecht digs deeper into his well of determination until he breaks the threshold of his disciple’s boon. Energy surges from the Ether into his hold, therms, kinetic, and elects, along with a well of time surges into his spirits hold, powering his body and accelerating his thoughts beyond imagination.
He has seven seconds of invincibility. Already on his center line, foregoing Siu nim tau; Albrecht must cripple his opponent. Using Chum Kiu, he seeks to imbalance Lash with a flurry of head strikes and body blows.
Ogen Lash moving as fast as artificial muscles allows, can’t keep up and settles for minimizing damage by reducing strike impacts through deflection and partial blocks. He knows whatever fuels this surge of speed and strength must have a duration limit, all he must do is survive until his flesh-and-blood opponent exhausts his energy.
The dodging priests right foot comes down on a loose section of crushed basalt. His foot slides less than a sixteenth of an inch, Albrecht exploits the poor footing with a kick to the priests left knee. The predictable weight shift to the right causes Lash to slip sideways, leaving him off balance and unable to effectively defend his body or head against the next round of punishing attacks.
Fixer Albrecht pours more kinetic into his attacks, each punch producing a pressure wave with enough force to kill an unprotected human. The meta-obsidian protective armor stops the majority of each impact, the pressure and force cause the air to heat and vibrate violently. Traditional materials and Ogen’s remaining human organs take a pounding, two seconds into Albrecht’s boon, and he’s inflicted fatal wounds to the priests remaining mortal flesh.
The mechanical side of the Dragon Born works to preserve as much living tissue as possible, as it tumbles to the ground.
Albrecht pauses his attack to see if his opponent will stay down, wasting a precious second. Seeing Lash curl himself protectively he knows his job isn’t finished.
Drawing himself rapidly into the air he prepares to drive himself at four times gravity into the balled-up traitor to Disciple Yara.
Halfway towards his target sixty lasers fire, each one burning a finger sized hole through Fixer Albrecht.
Now falling haplessly, with his remaining boon fueling his spirit’s ability to heal, the clock runs out, feebly he attempts to create deflecting mirrors but is too late as a second barrage of fiery lasers seer through his body from every angle.
Fugeki Lash uncurls and asks, “Glorious Lady Drako, did you gather enough data to optimize our form?”
The tiny dragon statue crawls from behind the boot of a mostly repaired Brother Quince, “Yes, you did well Ogen now go to the sand pits so I can patch you up.”
Brother Quince leans down and scoops up the small dragon form. Holding it to his face, “Glorious Lady, if I may, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can ask me questions, I no more control you now than when you were pure flesh. You have more freewill than I will ever have.”
The Dragon Born, as he is accustomed, doesn’t understand many of the things his goddess asserts, and continues with his question. “Why do you leave us with such an obvious weakness?”
“Do you mean, why do you still have brains, a heart, an optimized digestive system, and those other organs?”
“Yes, you have none of those things, we wish to be more like you. Why have you condemned us to live on with this burden of flesh?”
“Because you are human and have a spirit, I hope that I left enough of yourself in place that your spirts will not leave.
“You must see yourself as alive or I’m afraid you will lose the ability to keep a spirit. That is why I will not let you use a direct data connection to any of my intelligence modules. You must exist in your thoughts or risk losing yourselves to the void.
“I love you all too much to risk that happening.”
“Your wisdom is unending.”
Maddison appears from a portal, “Brother we’ve talked enough. Poor Ogen is no longer moving; take his arms and help me carry him.”
Hearth Room at Riverside, Twoya
Teum sits at the bar between Father and Luscin, neither speak. Usually content to sit quietly, Teum fidgets and regrets not bringing any chocolate to cheer up his wife.
A familiar voice has the married couple spinning in their seats in surprise, “Hey, you two are here!”
Before they can answer, Father is out of his seat and greeting Miss Edith Jones.
Stopping short of offering to shake her hand, “Thank you for coming, my sources told me you were still in Mammatus. When you did not respond to my invitation last month, I assumed you could not make the journey.”
Teum joins the two, “Edith, of course we’re here. I was about to ask what you are doing here, but I see you were invited. Your greeting surprises us; were you expecting us to be here or not?”
Cocking his head sideways and turning to Father, “You brought Luscin and me in as a substitute for Edith?”
Ignoring the question, Father says, “Everyone is on time, our next group of guests will be arriving over the next two hours. Let’s all sit, drink, and I’ll explain each of your roles.”
It’s after midnight and the restaurant has been closed for an hour, the last table is cleared, and the bar is reconfigured. The chairs and settees have been removed, high-top tables are placed in each corner. Leaving the only seats at the bar.
Teum watches as the door opens to admit the first arrival, it’s Valmir Moon.
A giant hand settles on his shoulder, “Relax, she’s here as a neutral observer. That valley is run too well and the people are too happy for there to be a need for organized crime. Many have tried, but there is no market for what we peddle beyond information. That is the extent of Brust Valley’s engagement with crime.
“Information? Is that even a crime?”
“The information isn’t; our methods of gathering it often are.
“Now excuse me, I need to welcome our guest.”
Father greets Ambassador Moon warmly, leaving Teum to watch for the next arrival. It doesn’t take long before the sound of another arrival draws his attention.
A shorter than average man with wild gold hair with brown streaks, pale blue eyes, and an air of confidence, strides straight for the bar. Following closely is a nervous unassuming man trying to look in every direction at once, while appearing to look ahead.
Teum waits nervously for the man to get close enough to greet when the hulking figure of Father glides past him, meeting the two arrivals before they cross into the bar.
Clasping right hands, “Clancy, Father of Brass, you’re earlier than I expected. Thank you for coming.
“Thanks Early, Father of Thuma for saying so. I know where I stand.”
“You and your man should make yourselves comfortable. We know who the last three to arrive will be, the others think too highly of themselves and should try showing up on time for once.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Smiling broadly, “Suits me just fine Early, that’s more time for me to imbibe your liquor.”
Realizing he isn’t needed, Teum rejoins Luscin and Edith at the bar.
The next to arrive is Mayor Justin Smithly from Mecanose, except where before he was a scholarly mess, he’s now a strong confident, man. Wearing the same clothes, but with his shiny lampblack colored hair properly combed. Alone, he doesn’t hesitate to approach Father.
“Early, Father of Thuma, this had better be worth my time. The notes left by Justin are a mess.”
“Black, Father of Mecanose, greetings. You’re earlier than I expected, thank you for coming.
“Don’t be too hard on the mayor, he tried his best to keep up. I’m afraid this next meeting will be shorter. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while we wait for the company of my other guests.”
Twenty minutes of quiet conversation is interrupted by the next arrival. In walks a man slight of build, short cropped grey hair, wide unblinking grey eyes.
Early, Father of Thuma strolls silently forward and meets the man halfway, “Xà, Father of El’Hat, thank you for coming.”
Xà glances at the other attendees before deciding if the greeting was an insult. Satisfied he replies, “Early. Father of Thuma, I thank you for including me.
Looking purposely at the three individuals with bounties on their heads at the bar, “I look forward to seeing who else you invited.”
“Those three are off limits while we conduct business. You’re welcome to take your shot when this is over.”
After a quiet snicker, “I’ve seen two of them play fight. I can’t imagine what they could do if they fought for real. The third one, she looks familiar… Familiar in a bad way, I think I’ll leave them to the others.”
“Suit yourself, please join the others, while we wait upon the arrival of my other guests.”
Xà, Father of El’Hat has barely entered the bar when the front door swings open again, swiftly followed by three men entering. The lead man is average in every way, brown hair, black eyes, average height, wearing clothes of his region, that make him and his two companions look like they just left their fields after a long day of planting.
Early stands his ground as they move towards him, “Ichi, Father of Oiho, greetings, thank you for coming.”
Ichi the lead man clasps hands with Early and attempts a challenge of hand crushing strength. After a grueling, forty-five seconds he relinquishes and accepts defeat, “One day, Early, Father of Thuma, one day.”
“No, Ichi, Father of Oiho, never in a million years.”
Laughing heartily, Ichi walks widely around Early, followed closely by his two bodyguards.
Next to arrive is Haathi, Father of Righterlund. Dressed in a business suit with a pair of bodyguards equally clad. There’s a noticeable bulge of firearms visible through their jackets.
Early and Haathi, the two Father’s of their respective territories make small talk after a cordial greeting of clasped forearms.
The next to enter causes a stir, It’s Kohen of Gateland. Early approaches him with a slight show of sympathy, “Kohen, Father of Gateland, you are early. You honor us all for traveling such a great distance.”
Kohen glances around and makes a note of who is missing before responding, “Save your pity, I’m early because I’m impatient. I’ve had enough of these games; on the east coast we conduct our business on tight schedules. These western territories could learn a thing or two by our example.”
Early, Father of Thuma knows pettiness when he hears it, so do all the others listening.
“I agree, I learn much, every time I meet with you. Please enjoy some refreshments while we wait for my finale guests to arrive.”
As if on cue a pair of servers, different from earlier arrive and start circulating with platers of food. Small bite sized items are easily picked up and eaten by hand without need of plate or cutlery.
Striding in by himself is the always boisterous Lt. Governor Dusan Podgorski, as second in command of the Free Cities of the Finger Lakes, it’s no surprise he is also the Father running the underworld in the city of Indi.
Early strides purposely towards the strutting man, “You are late, but welcome anyways.”
“Aww, did I hurt someone’s feelings?”
Clasping forearms and whispering, “Ruin this and I’ll see that you never set foot on the water again.”
Dusan glances at the three sitting at the bar before releasing Early’s arm, “Sorry I’m late, carriage troubles; inu travel isn’t as reliable as the winds you know.”
Satisfied, Early also releases the Lt Governor’s partially crushed wrist, and crosses his arms until Dorson, Father of Indi takes his leave and heads to the empty side of the bar.
It’s ten minutes before the door opens again and admits the representative from the host city of Twoya, Rasputin, Father of Twoya. Behind him is a man extruding danger from his every pore. He wears an affect mask that makes everyone aware that he is a man with a deadly gift.
Rasputin dressed in a gold filigree coat, red crushed velvet pants, an oval shaped hat that looks like a giant black bush on his head, presents a comically striking figure.
The dangerous man following is wearing his dueling outfit his name is Țepeș.
Țepeș fights in the Twoya WDA and has a four match kill streak. His uniform matches his sponsor, made of the same crushed red velvet with a complex pattern in gold filigree suggestive of giant upright pikes impaling corpses.
Early approaches, “Rasputin, Father of Twoya, you are early. Thank you for agreeing to hear me out.
“We are still waiting on one other guest, please accept my hospitality while we await the representative from Rebirth to arrive.”
Rasputin says nothing but does glare menacing towards the far end of the bar where Dusan sits pretending to drink.
The last to arrive is Smith, Father of Rebirth, also a man of few words, he and Early exchange polite greetings and nothing more.
Early returns to the bar where his daughter, son-in-law, and guest await.
“So, what do you think of our eleven guests? Any surprises?”
Luscin has purposely ignored her father the entire time and sees no reason to acknowledge him now.
Teum shrugging, “I was a little surprised by the fella you called Black, he looks a lot like mayor Smithley.”
“That’s because they are the same person, he has a personality disorder. Playing along is harmless, confronting his reality gets messy, I don’t recommend it.”
Edith Jones is bothered by something, “I’m sure you are not counting each Father’s body guards, with that fact out of the way, I only counted ten guests. Where is this eleventh of which you speak?”
“The fact you picked up on that, says I was right to mention it. One of you would have undoubtedly noticed eventually.
“We have an interloper… Don’t look around, certainly don’t stare at him when I tell you where to look.
“When he appears it’s always best to ignore him unless he makes it clear he wants to be seen or heard.”
Gesturing to both Teum and Luscin, “I’m aware of all your exploits, and am not certain if you together could defeat him.”
Luscin speaks, “There’s a child-sized man sitting in the lobby with a clear line of sight to everyone in this room. What’s with the dumb white mask?”
Early’s face showing nothing, “The mask, is the mask smiling?”
“No, the mouth is a straight line. Is that bad?”
Acting as if that conversation never happened, Early stands, “No matter, we have work to do. Everyone you know your roles, go play them.”
Early leaves the three to contemplate their next actions and joins Clancy from Brass at a high-top table.
Luscin, looks from Teum to Edith, “I know his role, what did my father ask of you?”
“Nothing, he asked me to be here to support you and Teum.”
Luscin is only momentarily gladdened by her friend’s presence and support, she’d be happier if she knew how Father knew she’d be here before she knew herself. Nodding to Teum they both stand and face the room.
Early clinks his now empty glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention.
“I’d like to start by expressing my gratitude to all of you for attending. It’s not often we can gather in person to discuss weighty matters. I humbly thank each and every one of you for attending.
“I laid out my intent in the letters I sent each of you, we are here so I can address your concerns before moving forward.”
Ichi of Oiho scoffs, “Ha, presumptions as ever.”
Black of Mecanose rejoins, “Quick to judge as always, Ichi?”
“Nothing quick to it, Early always believe he’s the smartest man in the room.
“Just because it worked in Thuma, that doesn’t mean it will work anywhere else.”
Xà of El’Hat adds, “Our government was already run by something worse than a Father. When that creature left, we had a renaissance, I already work openly with the Council. It’s not only Thuma; El’Hat has a unified government too.
“Early, is that why you invited me? To side with you? You could have asked instead of playing games.”
Early deadpan replies, “This is no game. I asked you out of respect.”
Xà looks thoughtful for a moment, “Ok, I can accept that.”
Ichi chirps, “Seriously? El’Hat is in and we’re supposed to act surprised. Your son-in-law personally dismantled the North’s influence over their study. They owe you.”
Early can’t let the opportunity to mend this relationship, “My daughter played a large part in that endeavor. We’ve all seen the person’s of interest notice. That was the norths only chance at retaliation.”
Bringing up that list was risky considering the eleventh guest. He’s a force of nature, but worrying about him makes as much sense as worrying about a tornado; it will touch down or pass by, nothing to be done.
Rasputin of Twoya can’t let that go, “Bold of you to bring all three together for us.”
Nodding towards the lobby, “Did you arrange to offer up your own flesh and blood to buy off support?”
The quiet whispers circulating the room cease at the insult Rasputin leveled towards Early, father of Luscin.
The hulking mass known as Early surges forward an eight of an inch, enough to make everyone flinch, “I did not invite my family here, they came to ask a favor. A favor that they would like to ask of all of us.
“That’s something for later, we have more important matters to discuss. I’m here to answer questions, not to engage in petty jibes.”
Rasputin knows he struck a nerve and wants to dance upon it, “You say you didn’t invite family, what about the other?”
“She didn’t come here to help me.”
The remark is true, the intent is to make them believe she is here on behalf of another interested party. Her connections to a certain family from the PPoV are known. The exact role of that family is unknown, but that only makes her more dangerous.
The room erupts in a flurry of remarks, everyone with a theory on why the Jones woman is present. The noise persists for several minutes until a small voice cuts through the din, quieting everyone.
Standing next to Luscin is the small man with the white mask, “I don’t have time for this. Everyone be quiet.”
A respectful silence ensues.
“You carry the captured spirit of a loved one, give it to me.”
Luscin wants to object but something about this persons spirit touches her, he means well. She reaches into an inside pocket and pulls out the silver lined bag containing the paper with the emperors seal.
Taking the bag, the small man opens it and removes the document.
More than half the people in the room are strong in the gift, all experience a wave of nausea and have to fight to keep from vomiting and soiling themselves.
Dropping the bag on the floor, “This is insufficient, use this instead.”
Pulling from under his overcoat a box, he flips it open and drops the offensive paper into it.
Closing the box, everyone is instantly relieved. Even Luscin and Teum that could always feel Selkie’s presence can no longer sense him.
His small voice rings out, “I only came to properly secure that document. Hearing this bickering was tedious. You have all made your decisions.”
Looking at Rasputin, “Get on with it already.”
The light shuffle of retreating slipper clad feet followed by the familiar sound of the entrance door opening and closing is anticlimactic.
Early doesn’t need to speak, he simply takes a determined breath, signaling he’s ready for whatever is to come.
Rasputin obliges, “I think I speak for us all when I say, this is an excellent idea. Our power and influence will give us the upper hand against our respective governments. We half control them already as it is. Making it official is the obvious next step.
“My objections are two. First is your insistence that we come out of the shadows. Why? We are safer this way. Second, you seem to think you should be elevated above the rest of us. While I agree that we need a figurehead to resolve disputes. Setting up Thuma as a capital of sorts with you as the leader is preposterous.”
Early knew this was coming and is prepared, “Are you suggesting Twoya as the capital, and you believe you should be the man in charge?”
Rasputin laughs, “No of course not, while you were busy conspiring with Ichi and Xà to playout a controlled opposition I spoke to the real power on this continent.
“I nominate Smith of Rebirth as the new leader of whatever we call ourselves, perhaps the United States of Cenoka.”
Menacingly Early asks, “And if I told you this isn’t open for a vote?”
Luscin doesn’t like where this is going, if the group isn’t unified Teum has no hope of being heard.
Striding forward, “You fools! A danger approaches of the likes not seen in six thousand years and you bicker over who will be in charge of some daydreamed Unified States! There will be nothing to unite in a year, maybe less. The north is on the verge of invading with power like we’ve never seen. Their army will roll across your cities like they are nothing. Your only hope is to delay them long enough for us Defenders to tear them down city by city. We won’t be able to defend more than a few and that’s if all the studies work together.
“There’s an army being built of War Born with the gift, that can add their abilities together. Imagine two hundred units wielding more power than the strongest among us.
“I promise. I promise you this. They will face me every step of the way. I will not stop fighting for you, so long as you fight for yourselves. There’s no room for the meek, this world is about to become one of predators eating predators. Show me your fangs and I will be your champion.
“Decide what you must tonight, but pledge you will resist the north with all your resources!”
Rasputin is moved, “We’ll fight, and expect you defenders to do what you always do. But that doesn’t change my mind about who should lead.
“Rebirth has been South Cenoka’s unofficial seat of power since the end of the Cataclysm.”
Early quietly asks, “Smith, Father of Rebirth, do you have the backing of your Governor, and do you have a champion you wish to declare, should you accept? Because I assure you, I will not back down without a fight.”
“I have Jordan’s blessing and Rasputin’s champion. In spite of what you said, I presume that’s why you have Defender Teum here… to be your champion.”
Before Teum of Luscin could object, “I have no need of a champion. I fight my own battles.”
Father Early claps his hands twice, the waitstaff prepared for that signal, surge to life, clearing away the high tops. A team of six carry a giant rolled up rug woven from glass fibers and reinforced with metal wires and bring it to the center of the room. After unrolling the rug, they affix it to the floor with eight metal spikes that are connected with thick copper cables to the buildings plumbing.
Seeing the physical preparation finished, “Teum, I need you to act as the buildings chief of safety. Don’t let a scrape of energy escape this ring.”
Awed by the sudden shift in atmosphere and familiar feel of a study dueling ring, Teum can’t help but to stand up straight and bow, “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will son.”
Țepeș steps into the ring, “Feeling lucky are you. You’re big, and I hear you move fast, but you can’t hold a joule. I hope your cute little girl over there is ready to see daddy’s head explode.”
Father doesn’t comment, he just takes off his jacket and tie, before loosening his shirt. Stepping into the ring he bends his knees, placing both fists on the ground in a classic sumo shikiri ready pose.
Țepeș comments, “Good luck with that, I don’t plan on meeting you halfway.”
This is a challenge to rule, there are no rules, other than elimination. Your opponent either submits or dies, staying in the ring is a courtesy to the host but not a requirement.
Early doesn’t wait, surging forward he’s halfway across the four yard ring before Țepeș reacts.
With a thunder clap a blast of kinetic energy concentrated in an area the size of a fist travels at supersonic speed for Early’s head. Early doesn’t turn or alter course, the energy somehow misses him.
Teum straining his thoughts to their maximum speed barely reigns in the energy before it kills Ichi.
Early covers another yard before Țepeș fires a second blast of kinetic, using a wide wave the width of the ring he believes he can’t miss. He stares incredulously as the energy wave parts and flows around the charging mountain of muscle.
Teum now prepared easily sweeps up the reckless discharge of power.
Țepeș was educated at the Twoya study before leaving to become a duelist and eventual bodyguard. He’s heard of this ability. Early, Father of Thuma is a Slide, he has no hold, but he can manipulate energy enough to defend himself.
The best defense against a slide is direct contact. Another half second and there will be plenty of that.
Early uses his outstretched arms to shove Țepeș’ chest.
Țepeș uses that contact to discharge around 20-thousand degrees of therms.
Every calorie is trapped momentarily between the two of them before exploding outward. The rings insulating fibers protect the floor, Teum once again saves the building and bystanders by scooping up the escaping firestorm.
Early shoves Țepeș who can’t capture energy from direct contact, must allow himself to be thrown backwards violently.
Teum trusts the duelist to protect himself and therefore the building, allows him to crash harmlessly into the wall. The wall takes no damage, but the initial impact cracked at least two ribs.
Early turns and walks back to the opposite side of the ring with no concern of attack from the rear.
Țepeș contemplates a laser blast to his head but knows the light will just bend.
Seeing his opponent back in the shikari stance, fists on matt, he enters the ring and does the same.
He’s depleted half his hold of kinetic, there should still be plenty for what he needs to do. Driving the kinetic from hold to flesh, he augments his muscles until his mass has doubled. Giving him pound for pound parity with his opponent.
There’s no ceremony, the two lock gazes daring the other to make the first move. Doing so allows your opponent to control the moment of impact, determining who has the best footing. A practiced sumo wrestler can overcome such things, Țepeș only knows this form of combat because he was born knowing it, giving yet another advantage to Early, Father of Thuma... Father of the United States of Cenoka.
Sensing the inevitable, Țepeș launches himself with every ounce of energy enhanced muscle.
Early moves forward with lightning speed, intent on his target.
Just before impact Țepeș yells, “Dodge this!” and releases a thunderous clap of elects.
Their bodies touch, hundreds of thousands of amps surge from Țepeș.
Only those with the gift using accelerated thought witness the sparks of energy skating along the outline of Early as they surge towards the grounded mat delineating the fighting ring.
Early doesn’t push his opponent this time, instead he moves to the side and grabs the man by the head, lifts him off the ground and slams the back of his head to the mat.
A sickening thud tells all that heard it that the mans head just broke open. The twitching corpse doesn’t know its dead yet, and spasms as his spirit attempts to keep him alive.
Early could smash the man’s head viciously into the ground to make a point, but decides to squeeze his neck, cutting off air and blood supply, until he’s sure the job is complete.
Standing over the corpse of his challengers champion, “Does anyone else wish to challenge me?”
The splashing and clanking sounds of dish washing from the kitchen are the only answer.