The Freedom Championships drew to a close.

The last events in all three divisions fell like dominoes as they progressed into the latter half of January.

The fans fervor hadn’t lessened, it had only increased as they watch the approaching crescendo.

If the Slaver King had a tangible hold on his sworn subjects then what difference did it make? They were all excited and happy. More than they had ever been in the close to two decades since the spires had appeared. He had delivered exactly what he had promised and tightened his hold on their loyal adoration.

Citizens of the New American Republic, subjects of the Slaver King cheered their favorites and booed their most hated from arena stands across the city and from their homes.

They watched the finals of the Silver Division MOBA between a team from Southern California, Rayna’s Rangers— and who was this ‘Rayna’? A question with no answer for the many that had asked— and a team from the notorious Meat Parade. It was a tight, heated contest. Each side pushed lanes in, took towers and threatened each other’s bases in turn.

Momentum seemed to swing each time one side seemed to be on the cusp of gaining an edge.

Such violence displayed!

It turned out that there was a thing as too much violence.

It was stunning to watch it unfold.

A very keen-eyed viewer would’ve seen it coming.

A fiery-haired young woman with an equally fiery sword grew more heated, if that was even possible, as the match went on. Her attacks slowly increased in viciousness as recognition dawned on her.

Her name was Chandra.

Her flaming hair erupted like a volcano as she slashed her sword across the Meat Parade flesheater’s chest scoring a red-hot line across armor.

“You! I remember you now! You were there!” Chandra snarled.

“Oh… shit!” the ranger, Neckbeard, said. A strange name to pick. For though the man was stocky, he wasn’t out of shape. He did have a beard, but it didn’t cover his neck because having only one chin didn’t necessitate concealing others. He held up a wooden staff flaring bright light that forced the other two flesheaters back. “Swanny! They’re the ones from Kansas!”

The third ranger, Swan Princess in full, but ‘Swanny’ in the interest of battlefield efficiency, spat a curse. She fired spells from the back line through the spell orbs floating around her.

They were too far and too slow to prevent the logical conclusion.

Imagine a young girl.

In a city besieged by cannibals.

Picture a young girl huddling with her family, friends, the only people she knew in a world filled with monsters and bad men.

She hid inside an enchanter’s shop waiting for the promised safety while monsters in the thin disguise of men roamed the streets.

See these monsters break into the shop.

Watch the unfolding massacre.

Imagine a young girl, friends and family brutally murdered, partially devoured.

Watch her take up the sword.

Uselessly.

For she had nothing.

No class to fight.

No strength of her own.

The girl was saved in the end only to be left asking herself one question.

Why me?

Time passes as it does.

Four years spent becoming strong.

No longer useless.

To come full circle and face the monsters that had plagued her for years.

The rules?

Fuck them!

Chandra’s rage fueled her magic fire.

She broke through the flesheater’s guard and nearly halfway through the cannibal woman’s neck.

She drew her back for another strike to finish it when she was flung back into the dirt.

She coughed and choked out water.

Her flames were dampened but flared back as she sought the attacker.

Mages floated above.

One shined a red light on her.

“Personal foul. Intentional attempt to kill. Competitor Chandra, you’re disqualified!” the head referee’s voice boomed across the battle arena. “Both teams return to your base. Match reset.”

“Damn it!” Neckbeard said.

Chandra was undeterred she stalked toward the wounded flesheater. Cauterizing the wound had slowed her healing.

The mages raised their hands in Chandra’s direction.

Swan Princess rushed forward using one of her spells to douse Chandra’s flames.

The latter turned to the former with a snarl.

Neckbeard grabbed Chandra. “Not now…” he hissed.

They dragged the frothing young woman back to their base.

The match resumed, but the conclusion was foregone with Rayna’s Rangers down one fighter.

They gave a spirited defense, then tried to backdoor the Meat Parade base in a last ditch effort to win a base race.

They failed.

The Meat Parade team won.

Despite being only in the Silver Division, the match was the talk of the city the next day.

Such drama.

Everyone wondered what that had been about.

Interviewers tried, but Chandra skipped the post-match press conferences and the other rangers refused to comment.

Attention shifted to another final.

This one was also in the Silver Division.

Three versus three.

Outsiders from Northern California, The Watch against the hometown favorites, The King’s Blades.

The latter team was comprised of up and coming local gladiators plying their trade in the multiple arenas throughout the city. And they had the backing of thousands in the arena and millions watching at home.

It was enough to power The King’s Blades to victory.

A much needed win for the hometown fans.

Too many outsiders had been winning.

The Meat Parade had won the Silver Division MOBA.

The Heartfuries had taken the three versus three contest in the Gold Division.

The one versus one was going to feature two outsiders. The Sapphire Smasher and Isaac Freeman.

Local gladiators had won the team fight competition in the Bronze Division, but who cared about the lowest tier?

They had a few prospects still alive in the time trial competition across all three divisions. Although, most saw that format as a lesser one.

Speaking of which, Fin, the Ghost Sorcerer, and the Dread Paladin fought through a spawn zone.

They tried, if not at their best, then fairly close.

It wouldn’t do to reveal their full capabilities when there were so many eyes watching.

The Cabal was everywhere.

Not only in the finals with them, but watching through the orbs that followed them as they rushed through the old mall and killed monsters.

The rewards had been good. Worth it, but winning balanced against secrecy came second.

As did they, ironically.

Time drew near.

Time for revenge.

For the both of them.

They knew where they had to go to reach the one that was ultimately responsible for their past and present suffering and lost loved ones.

For Fin, killing the leadership of the Cabal and as many of its members as he could represented finally putting that past where it belonged. To remove the weight he had carried. To finally sleep without the nightmares.

For the Dread Paladin, vengeance meant that he had been right to take the Vow. That the evil he had done wasn’t for nothing. He did not seek nor want atonement. To him the ends justified the means. He knew to his core that there would be no redemption for his crimes. All he wanted was to erase the Cabal from the world before facing whatever reckoning awaited at the end of his journey. A small part of him feared that the Vow wouldn’t allow him to rest. It was a small voice. Easy to miss in the ever-present chitters in his thoughts.

While much of the civilian population of Miami was consumed by the championships, there were others less caught up in the fervor. They had important work to do and they couldn’t watch all of the action. That wasn’t to say that they weren’t allowed to watch some of the action on their breaks and such. The king was generous as always.

Staff in various secret facilities throughout the king’s territory, in the city and out, went about their work while keeping an eye and an ear on the screens covering the championships.

“C’mon, Eric, you’ve got to help a bro out,” Noel said.

“I would, but this isn’t my area, you know? Besides, I know for a fact you already brought this to the king and he shut you down,” Eric said.

The two men took a leisurely place through the sprawling factory and warehouse complex located at the port.

“Look, bro, I’m swamped with getting the collars on all the monsters and mutant animals for the king,” Noel whined.

“You’re just bitching now. It’s not all,” Eric consulted his notes, “it’s only an additional one thousand creatures to be collared.”

“On top of normal attrition through training and leveling. Plus, replacements for fodder matches, which have been increased by two-hundred percent for the championships. Which, I can’t fully enjoy because I’m so fucking busy!” Noel threw his hands up. “On top of all that, General Mark won’t leave me alone about the mana hounds,” Noel said.

“We’ve lost three supply convoys. It’s been almost a month since we had to postpone them. Mark’s got the biggest dildo up his ass, but the old fuck isn’t wrong. Between you and me,” Eric lowered his voice, “the only reason the king isn’t putting more of his time into this is because of the championships. If you think the general is being a naggy little bitch, then wait till the king can give this his time. Just a head’s up.”

“Where is my time, huh, Eric? Where is my time to enjoy the party? I missed out on a rager last week during the Final Four, which I missed most of…”

“Hey, bro… that’s how it is when you’re irreplaceable,” Eric shrugged. “Anyways, don’t see what’s your problem. You’re obviously not being efficient—”

“The fuck you say?”

“Just going by your past metrics. You’ve been allocated enough additional essential staff to fulfill all the king’s demands and they are demands, just to be clear, not requests. So… do your job and quit bitching at me about it. If that’s not good enough for you then take it up with the king.”

“Nah, bro. You don’t go to him more than once or twice for something. I’m not stupid.”

They reached their destination.

A huge warehouse had been converted into a mix between a zoo and an armory.

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Thick-barred cages were arranged in neat rows.

Each contained a vicious monster or mutant animal.

Strangely, they all sat or stood listlessly.

None growled or snapped at the workers, enslaved and free, that moved through the aisles inspecting them and taking notes.

“This batch is almost ready to go. Just doing final checks before moving them. Here,” Noel ripped a flash drive out of the computer set up on a table, “details for your tracking whatever.”

“I’ll take that,” Eric snatched the drive and placed it in his breast pocket.

“You gonna inspect them all?” Noel pouted.

“Nah, I’ll take your word for it. The king trusts you,” Eric shrugged as he turned to leave.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. I’ve got to go up to Orlando and I want to get that done so I can get back here for the final.”

“Who do you got?”

“Thinking of laying off this one. Too close to call.”

“C’mon, you? Lay off a bet? Get the fuck out of here,” Noel laughed.

“You want to lay something down?” Eric challenged.

“I’ll take the Sapphire Smasher straight up,” Noel grinned.

“She’s the fave, you cheap ass,” Eric scowled.

“A slight favorite. I heard you were looking to transition. Didn’t know you already got your dick chopped off. How’s the new pussy feeling?” Noel sneered.

“Fuck off. Figures you’d put money on the little girl,” Eric shot the other man the finger.

“Bro, she isn’t a minor. That’s a proven fact.”

“Whatever, pedo. I’ll take that bet, straight up,” he grinned. “Isaac Freeman to burn the Sapphire Smasher. What’re we betting?”

“How about your best girl for my best girl?”

Eric mulled it over.

“Deal.”

They shook hands.

Losing even their best girl wasn’t that big a loss.

There were always plenty of girls and both men were among the wealthiest in the New American Republic.

Another place. It was once called ‘The Most Magical Place on Earth’, now it was something else.

Oh, it was still magical in that magic happened on a daily basis on its sprawling grounds, which covered about 40 square miles. It had been like a small city once.

Now it was a mix of encounter challenges and spawn zones containing the secret high level training grounds of the New American Republic.

It was here that the potential elite was sent to prove themselves.

Failure meant… well… not death.

That was a waste of perfectly serviceable fighters.

The king wasn’t a moron.

He had never understood having a training course with a high or even moderate chance of death.

Eric made the trip by helicopter.

It was a fairly uneventful ride.

There was a flock of mutant crows, but the gunner and the escort took care of them.

He had been honest with Noel.

It was only going to be a quick trip to pass along the king’s instructions in person.

The king could’ve called it in over the phone or through magical methods, but something was bothering the man. Though the king hadn’t said anything, Eric had gotten the barest of inklings.

A little worrisome niggle that threatened to dampen the excitement for the closing matches.

Such secrecy suggested that the king was worried that there were eyes and ears that didn’t belong.

Part of Eric was bothered that the king, his friend going all the way back to their frat days, hadn’t seen fit to mention just exactly what the threat was.

Part of him was glad that he didn’t have to deal with whatever it was.

Let the king take care of it like always while he partied.

He took a truck from the landing pad straight to the commander of the special training facility.

He handed the stone-faced man— why were all the command level officers like that? It was like someone had carved them out of rock— the king’s orders.

“I’ll give you a quick breakdown, but please read that,” Eric cleared his throat, “the king requests the return of his true champions at once. In fact, have someone get on that right away. Time’s ticking,” he tapped his rolex, “and I’ve got to get back to the city with them.” He waited for the commander to make the call before continuing. “As for the rest… you’re going to truck the collared monsters you have here back to the city. Dispersement is outlined in the packet.”

The commander scowled.

Eric thought he saw flakes chipping off the craggy brow.

“How many?”

Even the man’s voice sounded like rocks being rolled together.

“All of them or as much as you can fit in the vehicles you have here. The king wants them ASAP.”

The commander’s brow wrinkled even further.

“Earliest I can send them down is the twenty-third,” he grunted.

“That’s five days!”

“You don’t come out here much,” a statement, not a question.

“Yeah, so?”

“We are surrounded by encounter challenges and spawn zones. We house hundreds of collared monsters. We don’t have the manpower to get this down any quicker. I can pull guys from their other jobs, which are making sure the encounter challenges don’t become spawn zones and the spawn zones don’t overrun everything. That’s not even counting the number of men I need to keep on that damn demon just in case it decides it wants out… again.”

“Oh, that reminds me. The king wants it sent down too.”

The commander’s face grew ashen.

“It’s very important that it gets to its destination, which is in your official orders. Don’t let it escape. Good luck with that. I’ll be waiting at the helipad. Hopefully, not too long.”

Eric didn’t bother to wait for the commander’s reply.

The man thought he was better? Just cause he was military?

Fuck that.

Who had the king’s ear?

Eric did.

Maybe he’d drop some words about the commander when he got back.

Plenty of military types around.

One was just as good as the other.

All they needed to do was follow the king’s orders.

Any moron could do that.

Elsewhere, at about the same time Captain Butcher strode into her temporary office greeted by salutes from her command staff.

“Got new intel this morning.”

“Another note to the forehead, sir,” Lt. Muttley chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“Damn it,” Sgt. Brighteyes muttered.

“It thought you said you improved our security?” Sgt. Useful grinned.

“I did…”

“Looks like I won the bet,” Sgt. Useful held out her hand, “pay up—”

“Take care of that later. We’ve got more important things to talk about.”

The Ranger Captain’s words instantly cut off the impending bickering.

The two sergeants nodded like chastised children.

“He wants us to hit another convoy,” Captain Butcher continued.

“Slavers starting it up again?” Lt. Muttley said.

“No. This is a different kind of convoy. They’re shipping collared monsters into the city.”

“Sounds a lot easier than the ones we hit. We won’t have to worry about collateral,” Sgt. Useful said.

“I like the sound of killing everything,” Sgt. Useful said.

“It’s both easier and more dangerous,” Lt. Muttley said.

“You’re right on both. No collateral damage concerns. More enemies to fight.”

“I guess this is confirmation that they can control monsters, which is fucked,” Sgt. Useful said.

“It isn’t full control. More like pointing the monsters at targets.”

“What’s our timetable?” Lt. Muttley said.

“Somewhere between four and five days from now.”

“Plenty of time to set up an ambush.” The lieutenant moved to the large map on the wall. “We’ll want to hit them in the middle of nowhere so they can’t get reinforcements in quick enough… but we’ll need a place that isn’t flat, open land,” he mused.

“Gonna need to clear the ambush site of monsters first,” Sgt. Brighteyes said.

“Or we do a death from above ambush. Drop in, hit them hard, draw in wild monsters and get out in the confusion while they fuck each other up?” Sgt. Useful said.

“Are there any other complications, captain? I’m sensing that you aren’t telling us everything,” Lt. Muttley said.

“The convoy will contain an especially dangerous monster, a demon.”

“Oh shit! Demons are a thing now?” Sgt. Brighteyes’ eyes grew wide as saucers.

“A demon… demon… or is that just what they’re calling it?” Sgt. Useful said.

“My understanding is that its classification came straight from the spires. The reason the slavers call it a ‘demon’ is because its capture was part of a Quest. Its subsequent usage is a persistent Quest. And both refer to it as a ‘demon’. Specifically, a ‘violence demon’. Ultimately, I don’t care about names. What I care about is how dangerous is it and how to kill it without losing people.”

“We should’ve brought Monsignor,” Sgt. Useful said.

“Demons are different for devils… er… probably, since we haven’t come across devils,” Sgt. Brighteyes said.

“I’m guessing their control over this thing isn’t as good as what they’ve got with the rest of the monsters?” Lt. Muttley reined them in back on track.

“That’s what the intel said.”

“This might make things easier. We might not need to do more than break its cage and let it go crazy,” Sgt. Useful said.

“Brilliant idea,” Sgt. Brighteyes said. “Let a real life fucking demon loose.”

“It’ll be easier to deal with on its own. Weakened after it takes out the rest of our problems,” Sgt. Useful shrugged, “better than having it get loose in the middle of a potential three-way battle. Us versus the slavers with their monsters versus wild monsters.”

“I’m seeing a numbers problem, captain. We need people for the ops in the city, people to protect our base and people for the ambush. With this new intel,” Lt. Muttley shook his head, “I’m thinking that we’re going to need way more than what we normally bring if we don’t want massive casualties.”

“Well, let’s war game this out and come up with a good plan that takes all of that into account,” Captain Butcher slid the notebook that had accompanied the note she found stuck to her forehead when she had woken up. “Detailed information on the convoy. Troop disposition. Probable numbers and types for the monsters. The demon’s known strengths and weaknesses.”

Of which there were much more of the former.

Days later.

The demon dug its clawed fingers into the thickly muscled neck of the enormous mutated boar. Sleek muscles rippled beneath pale, pink flesh as it flexed its arms, twisting and turning until the squealing boar fell silent. It held the severed boar’s head up and let the blood gush into its mouth. Rows of sharp, triangular teeth snapped and gnashed as its mouth shot out like an eager shark.

It turned its attention to the huge, mutated snake latched around its digitigrade lower leg. Coils strong enough to crush every bone in a human body with one errant squeeze did nothing to the demon.

It pried the coils off until it revealed the snake’s head.

One hand grabbed.

The snake thrashed, trying to throw its coils around its head for protection.

The struggle was short. The conclusion foregone.

Nothing defeated the demon.

It bit a chunk out of the dying snake and proceeded to eat the entire forty-foot length.

“I’m gonna hurl, but I can’t not watch,” one of the guards observing from high above the pit and behind many layers of defense said.

“You’re new. You’ll get used to it,” another guard said.

The demon heard the words despite the distance and security measures separating it from the soft primitives.

It stared up with eyelid-less eyes.

Orbs of pure black pierced deeper then they knew.

The primitives looked away.

Multiple layers of steel bars, mesh, bullet-resistant glass and magic forcefields stood in its way.

Kept it prisoner.

It knew it could escape given time and desire.

But, why?

It was fulfilled.

The primitives threw all manner of creatures for it to fight and kill. Sometimes they threw their own kind for it to fulfill its purpose.

It had all it wanted.

Let the primitives think they had it imprisoned. That their flimsy metal bands were more than mere annoyances.

Still, being content didn’t mean it wouldn’t decide to seek greater entities to fight and slaughter.

It sensed them out there. Like shining beacons in the dark.

Somewhere in the distance to the south.

Where there had been one source there were now many.

A long forked tongue snaked out from between rows of teeth and tasted the air.

The original… the one that had barely succeeded in imprisoning it with the aid of countless others… was present.

It was thankful for that.

The defeat needed to be returned.

Another presence, like the cold ocean.

The opposite, like a blazing inferno.

Yet, another… this one was a raging rainstorm.

The strongest presence flickered in and out of existence.

The demon didn’t know what to make of that one.

“Is that normal?” the guard said.

“Yeah,” the other guard scribbled into a notebook.

“What’d you just write?”

“We’re supposed to log whenever it sticks its tongue out and faces south. Don’t ask, cause I don’t know. We’re just here to watch and make sure it doesn’t try to escape.”

“Yeah, got it, I read all the stuff. You can count on me to do my job to the best of my ability!”

“Jesus-fucking-Christ, kid. Tone that shit down. All you need to do is follow the rules and don’t get the rest of us killed.”

“Sorry…”

“Forget about it. Listen, the biggest challenge is not puking and you’ve got over that, so just don’t fuck it up and you’re good.”

Mewling primitives, the demon thought.

Such a fresh and fertile world for it to bathe in blood.

It resolved to make the most of being the only one of its kind on the landmass for as long as it could.

Once more of its kind made the journey then it would have to share.

A concept its kind was incapable of comprehending.

A strange sound escaped its throat.

Piercing, like its gaze, the sound touched something deeper in the soft primitives.

It heard their curses as more than half the watching guards, close to two dozen, fell to their knees and retched up foul-smelling liquid.

“The fuck… was that…” the older guard wiped his mouth.

“I don’t know, but I don’t feel good,” the younger one’s face had turned green, but he had kept the contents of his stomach in place. He went to help the older guard up, but the man thrust the logbook in his hands.

“Log… it…”

“What do I put?”

“Just… what… happened…”

The younger guard remembered the protocol.

Each pair of guards watching the demon carried a log book in which they were supposed to note anything and everything the demon did.

He proceeded to scribble away.

The task helped him focus on something, anything other than those black orbs and that sound that defied description.

“Weird? Scary? Sound… terrifying?” he muttered as the pen scratched across paper.