Shessar tossed another candied space rat into her jaws, subconsciously crunching and swallowing the treat before the flavor even hit her senses.

She wasn’t even hungry, plowing heedlessly into emotional eating territory now. Firen’s furious rejection haunted her memory.

“That bastard!”

She extended a wing, trying to grab the attention of the young treat vendor roving nearby. When the poor male didn’t see her, she flung a fist-sized rock hard in his direction. It landed square on the lad’s back, expelling a cry of pain. When he looked accusingly in her direction and received her fierce glare in return, his face filled with fear and he scampered away, taking his treats with him.

“Stupid boy. They weren’t very good, anyway,” she said, licking her talons despite her words.

Her biological clock was ticking, her hormones raging, and her metabolism accelerating as her body raced into the prime mating period of her life. There was hardly an ounce of fat on her girthy frame. She was just big. Even for a female.

Shessar settled back into the hollowed-out rock, adjusted her tie-down straps, and took stock of the arena. It was a genuinely late hour of the day, as was customary for these events, starting at a time when many dragons had already surrendered to their sleep cocoons.

Mech battles had been held in this crater for centuries. A small meteor had impacted the side of Narmoroth here eons ago, leaving behind a natural amphitheater that could accommodate thousands of dragons at a time. The circular ridge surrounding the crater had been cut into terraces, and her tickets were for the front row.

It was an outrageous expense for a teacher’s salary, and now she had two seats lying empty and wasted beside her. She’d briefly considered giving the tickets away or trying to hawk them off at the arena’s entrance, but she hated small talk with strangers even more than losing her pittance of a salary.

To the two suns with anyone else. I deserve the extra space.

A moment later, two gigantic mechs, painted bright yellow and red respectively, descended into the middle of the arena, rapidly decelerating amidst a fiery wash of ignited ether that torched the ancient rock. Their jets abruptly cut off, leaving the hulks to float downward, eventually landing on all fours with a resounding thunk.

Here in the system’s outer fringes, finding a mech higher than the utility class was exceptionally rare, and these were no exception. Deep gashes scored their armored hides, and a patchwork of poorly welded sheets barely held the skeletal roll cage together.

The yellow mech was named Brightspark and was the clear crowd favorite, the thousands of dragons in attendance roaring when it gave a slow wave with a weighty metal forelimb.

The mech then scratched at the empty sky with a foreclaw before pivoting around on one leg to perform an impressive tail swipe, an exceedingly complicated maneuver for a utility class mech pilot. It was a standard showboating move that was simple theatrics, but the raucous mob ate it up, loving every minute.

The red mech, Firemonger, was a recent newcomer and had won an impressive five out of six matches leading up to this event. It kept all four feet clasping firmly to the ground, executing a series of rolls and swipes, to the crowd’s delight.

An announcer’s voice rang out through the thick ether in the crater, hurrying through a list of short announcements before introducing the two mechs with grandiose, exaggerated gusto. Finally, the fight was ready to begin.

“Pilots, ready yourselves! Three … Two … One … FIGHT!”

With an explosion of movement, the two mechs blasted toward each other with surprising speed, their wings flapping furiously.

Brightspark led with a mammoth swing of its foreclaw, hoping to clock Firemonger in the jaw. But the red mech saw it coming, performing a precisely timed duck that left Brightspark spinning. Firemonger then dove at its opponent’s exposed flank, latching onto it with jagged teeth. With an almighty tear, it ripped loose a chunk of armor, tossing it adrift. Brightspark went to backhand Firemonger away, but the movement was too slow—the red mech had already boosted to apparent safety.

But Brightspark wasn’t done yet, continuing to spin around with its tail fully extended, smashing it against Firemonger’s head. The impact forced the mech’s torso to turn, exposing its vulnerable side. Brightspark didn’t hesitate to take advantage, jetting forward to rake its claws deep into the red mech’s side, leaving a trio of ragged gouges in their wake.

A sudden kick from Firemonger’s left hind leg created some much-needed distance.

The crowd went wild, shouting expletives as the two mechs circled each other. Firemonger was now leaking black fluid from its side, and the spray of black blobs created a stream that arced lazily across the arena.

Without warning, the mechs engaged again, blasting together with their ether jets and executing a series of lumbering attacks and dodges. Each time Brightspark’s claws swept across Firemonger’s side, they created a hellish scream and a bright shower of sparks. But Firemonger fought back valiantly, slamming several tail strikes into Brightspark’s left side. A particularly vicious hit smashed into Brightspark’s chest plate before the yellow mech lifted a clumsy foot and kicked Firemonger in the right foreshoulder. The collision momentarily knocked the mechs apart before ether jets fired on their backs, propelling them back into clobbering range.

Their attacks weren’t complicated, as even the most basic maneuver in a utility class mech was exceedingly difficult. The pilots had to make do with elementary joysticks and switches for every operation. It meant these fights were typically blundering, oafish affairs, where the mech that dealt the most blunt-force damage won.

The two mech pilots were well aware of these limitations and plunged their machines into reckless melee attacks. It would have been a foolhardy strategy indeed if this was a proper flesh-and-blood duel.

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Finally, amidst a growing cloud of junk metal shards, Brightspark ended the match, plunging its entire forelimb deep into Firemonger’s side to sever the machine’s electrical system. The red mech was instantly paralyzed and drifted slowly to the ground, its jaws spasming uncontrollably.

Brightspark paused, its robot body still poised to launch another strike. When its opponent stilled, it threw back its shoulders, standing proudly on all fours.

The announcer’s voice promptly rang out, “The clear winner of the first fight is … BRIGHTSPARK!”

The entire duel had hardly lasted five minutes. The crowd was well and truly amped now, chomping at the bit for the next match, but Shessar simply sat there nonplussed.

“Hmph,” she said, picking at her teeth. “Such a predictable end.”

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream rang out from a female in the crowd, turning dozens of heads in her direction. The dragon had wide, fearful eyes as she pointed to the starry sky.

Shessar squinted, then sat up straight.

“A monster!” someone shouted. “It’s a monster attack!”

Hundreds of eyes were now directed upward, all witnessing the formidable insect descending not far from Firemonger’s debilitated form.

The creature was a gargantuan beetle, eight dragonwings long and covered in a strange gray fuzz. It held aloft massive pincers that clicked menacingly. As it touched down, its wings folded neatly inside its carapace, and it clasped onto the rocky ground with barbed feet. The creature was at least double the size of the utility class mechs. More importantly, it had no shortcomings with its mobility, rushing with shocking speed to Firemonger’s lifeless metal corpse.

The beetle leaped atop the scarred mech, pinning its four limbs with its feet. Its gruesome pincers snapped down on the metal dragon’s neck, severing its head in one wicked strike. The monster’s mandibles grasped at the floating mech parts, tasting them for food before spitting them back out like a disgusted child.

Fortunately, the monster overlooked the sunken cockpit in the machine’s chest, where its pilot lay hidden. The beetle was twenty times the size of a male dragon, and there was no way the pilot of Firemonger could face it alone.

As the beetle continued to break off random pieces of metal and taste them, it unexpectedly let out a screech of pain. The giant spun around, displaying its plated back to the crowd. Brightspark’s forelimb was lodged deep in its carapace, expertly punched into the precise crack where the beast folded its wings.

Although the wound evidently hurt the monster, it did little to slow it down, and it leaped on Brightspark with a shriek. It swung its pincers, slicing straight through all four of the mech’s limbs in an astonishing display of violence.

Every last dragon in the crowd was on their feet now, some brazenly cheering for Brightspark while others scurried away, hoping the monster wouldn’t target them next.

Shessar was in the first category.

But despite the crowd’s roar, Brightspark was categorically immobilized, its metal limbs and head drifting lifelessly beside the torso. All the mech had done was buy Firemonger a few precious seconds.

But that was enough.

In the next moment, a dozen mechs of various colors—the other contenders for the event—descended from the sky to surround the monster. All the mechs were utility class, and although their movements appeared stunted and forced, they attacked the beetle with such ferocity that it was momentarily overwhelmed.

The mechs pummeled their tails against the beetle and sliced their talons. Some of the mechs even used their rock cutters, splashing streams of liquid dragonfire over the creature.

Unfortunately, the beast’s carapace was indomitable, resisting every attack. The only strikes that came close to hurting the monster were those targeting its vulnerable mouth area. But the insect’s superior agility let it deftly spin away from those attacks. Even the dragonfire licked harmlessly against its armored back, barely irritating the beast. All too soon, the monster had mentally regrouped and was fighting back with wicked slashes of its enormous pincers.

Two mechs promptly fell, bisected clean in half. One of them even lost its dragon pilot, a haze of blood forming around its cockpit.

When the beetle got a taste of the crimson cloud, it flew into a feeding frenzy, spinning ever faster and mercilessly slicing limbs from the surrounding machines. Within a few precious heartbeats, three more mechs were down.

The gray beetle now seemed to understand that inside the hard shell of these mechanical creatures was the soft flesh it desired, and it huddled over the bisected half of a mech, its mandibles shredding away at the screaming pilot within.

When all seemed lost for the mech warriors, a bright spotlight shone from the starry sky, focusing directly on the beetle’s location. A dazzling, iridescent green dragon mech descended on all fours, the ether jets on its wings puffing in controlled spurts.

This machine was on another level entirely. It dwarfed the utility class battle fighters, boasting weaponized talons and flawless interlocking steel scales that winked brilliantly in the starlight. It displayed a clear military insignia on one shoulder, and the arena fighters swiftly ceded their position to the soldier.

The towering mech left its wings flared and began to circle the monster, using a combination of ether jets and flicking its feet against the ground to direct its momentum. Its movements were fluid and lifelike, unlike the jolting, telegraphed actions of the utility mechs.

The newcomer continued to circle the monster, which soon grew agitated at the incessant turning, finally issuing a great roar in challenge. The mech answered its cry by unexpectedly flattening its wings and blurring forward with startling speed, slicing its claws across the beetle’s legs and dismembering its forelimbs in the blink of an eye.

The mech’s maneuvers were like silk flowing in an ether breeze, natural and graceful, moving more like a dancer than a fighter. Unlike the prior battle, none of the green mech’s actions were for show. Each attack had a specific purpose and was supremely lethal, targeted with surgical precision at weak points in the beetle’s chitinous armor. Within seconds, all six of the monster’s limbs were severed and drifting away into space, neutralizing its power.

Next, the mech pinched a foreclaw into a single tapered point, which it stabbed into the monster’s mouth, plunging its metal arm deep into the beast until it penetrated its brain.

The hulking beast shuddered still. The green mech paused, waiting until it exhaled a wheezing death rattle before retracting its foreclaw, covered in thick goop. It stared at the soiled talons, then flung them at the ground, slinging off the beast’s foul ichor.

The other mechs were frozen in place, not knowing what to do. Then, like a trance being broken, their cockpits sprang open and every pilot struck a fist against their chest, saluting their savior.

The newcomer’s cockpit eventually followed suit, and a broad-shouldered male wearing a green military baldric stood proudly on the lowered blast shield, smiling as he saluted them back in return. Then he sprang into the sky, but rather than continue to drift away, his mighty wings unfurled and swept in a powerful beat that sent him plummeting to the ground. He pulled out of his dive to alight on a boulder, raising a triumphant fist to the roar of the crowd.

For many in the arena—including Shessar—it was the first time they’d seen a dragon truly fly, and they erupted in euphoria. Before Shessar realized what she was doing, she rushed toward the central battle area with hundreds of others clamoring to see this new sensation.

An ignited heartfire! Who is this dashing hero?!

Right as the throng reached the titanic feet of the green mech, a foreboding hiss erupted from the dead beetle’s carapace. The legion of dragons turned as one to see the shell quake and shudder.

Shessar gasped.

The monster’s wounds erupted with millions of tiny, gray spores.