“Well… that was disappointing,” the Slug Games commentator said. “Slug species can’t even die properly, am I right? But don’t despair, ladies and gentlemen, because it’s time for what you’ve all been waiting for— the non slug prelims!”

Volengi folded his arms. A translucent cube encased him and hundreds of other aliens horizontal and vertical to him. The protective barrier was the only thing stopping them from engaging in combat right away.

The turnout for the non-slug prelims was outstanding. Millions of planets had sent their strongest warriors forward, and how could they not? Volengi had put everything at stake. Everything that everyone wanted was at stake.

“Hello, baby Vol Vol! How’s it feel to be a disgraced loser?”

Volengi slowly turned to the right. A trio of Bradoo, gold skinned creatures with crimson eyes and yellow beaks, hooted and hollered.

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t destroy a simple slug planet,” the Bradoo continued, scratching its beak. “The Solarian Empire is pathetic. We’re going to kill you and take over everything you own.”

Volengi slowly turned his head back to its original position, emotionless.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Is the pathetic king scared? Oh no, the Solarian has gone shy. Oh no, oh no, oh no!”

The Bradoo’s two buddies laughed in a low pitched, scratchy tone.

“Why are you on your own, baby Vol Vol? You’re supposed to have two others to make a team? Was everyone too embarrassed to partner up with disgraced royalty? What a shame. I get it, I get it.”

Volengi brushed dust from his shoulder as the aliens continued to rattle away. Though contestants were recommended to enter in groups of three, the Solarian King had made the decision to enter alone. It was the best way to prove his dominance as a warrior. No one would be able to doubt his excellence with the handicap.

The ghost planet’s blue sky filled with spaceships bundled together in large clumps— whole fleets from numerous planets had come to spectate. To see their chosen champions win. Bets had been made, most of them foolish.

While the sun almost disappeared below the horizon, Volengi embraced the bloodlust of the competitors encompassing him. Fresh corpses, which were decapitated or covered with deep puncture wounds, surrounded them from the previous slug preliminaries.

This was war. This was what his species lived for.

“You may begin now!” The commentator yelled.

Mere seconds into the prelims, thousands of contestants, including the talkative Bradoo, blew up into smithereens as Volengi raised a palm to defend against an orange energy beam half the size of the moon.

He chuckled. Such a devastating attack was no doubt collaborative, most likely involving at least ten separate teams.

You’re that desperate to take me out, huh?

Volengi knew the combat zone was never going to last long but he had underestimated how quick the enemy would get the job done. Already, the ghost planet was on its last legs. The energy beam had left a wide and deep crater, equivalent to a large bite taken out of an apple, and the ground convulsed under the impact of a violent earthquake, magma bursting from the surface.

Impending planetary destruction gave the prelims a shortened time limit while wiping out most of the garbage who weren’t worth the time to fight. At least it was a decent trade.

Volengi slipped one hand in his pocket and took a stroll across the magma squirting land, observing the chaos several miles ahead of him. The flow of battle was amusing. Everyone seemed to be headed towards him but that, in itself, was a challenge. Thousands of contestants died by the second as gunfire rained, glowing gauntlets sunk through skulls and successive explosions littered the planet.

Suddenly, enemies were in close proximity. Dozens battled in the air and on the ground until an excited yell stopped them in their tracks.

“There he is!”

A swarm of contestants zoomed towards him.

Volengi swiftly jabbed through their temples one by one within seconds using one pinky finger while blades laced with poison and lethal microorganisms pierced through his skin. Even a reptilian-looking alien managed to strike him with a sledgehammer before meeting its demise, the weapon slamming into his forehead and ricocheting off.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Purposefully, Volengi had not evaded, accepting every attack thrown at him. Like nothing happened, he continued his stroll across the battlefield, one hand still resting in his pocket. Billions were no doubt observing his every move, and anyone with half a brain would see the truth. They would understand the true might of a Solarian King and realise that all the terrifying stories about him were true.

Killing was not enough. He needed to send a message.

Deep rumbles sounded in the distance, and Volengi increased his pace from a brisk walk to a mad dash. An army of diamond-glistening creatures, which actually were clones of one individual, bolted towards him, swatting away anyone unfortunate enough to be in their path with long arms ending in claw-like formations. They were Odemps, gargantuan titans feared for their physical strength and endurance. The Solarians had enslaved their home planet and they had decided to enter the tournament, most likely in the hopes of freeing themselves.

Volengi somersaulted over a dozen clones and jabbed his pinky finger into the nearest Odemp, exploding it into several shards. A diamond fist caught him in the back of the head but he barely turned, swiping horizontally with his finger yet again. The Odemp’s torso slid off its stubby legs.

“Is this the best your planet has to offer?!” Volengi taunted.

The Odemps’ response was immediate. They duplicated instantaneously and wildly swung with their fists. Volengi let the blows rain down on him and stood his ground as they formed a tight circle around him, taking turns to strike him with their fists.

32 hits. 50 hits. 112 hits.

They froze, moving their heads side to side, only blinking when he blinked.

Volengi shook his head and smirked, raising his little finger in the air. The Odemps fused together within a split second and its original form revealed itself— a monsterous alien taller than an oak tree. “DIE!”

A diamond hailstorm shot out of its chest. Shards tore and ripped every surface, even sniping a few birds in the distance. Volengi deflected most of the projectiles with his finger. Admittedly, he was impressed at the range of the attack and was certain any contestant behind him had been ripped to shreds.

The Odemp abruptly stopped the assault.

Had it given up? No… It was waiting.

*SLICE*

Volengi looked down, blinking rapidly. His right arm was on the blood-stained grass.

He sighed.

There was only one who could sneak up on him like that. Since the beginning of the game, they had been hiding just out of reach from his super senses, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

“Mantis, the legendary assassin,” Volengi said. “I’m glad you could make it.”

There was no response but a colossal, purple-skinned figure revealed itself, unveiling twin daggers, long wild blue hair and a fur-lined coat. And of course, most strikingly, one of its eyes was discoloured, while the other had been lost to a bacterial infection, leaving behind a grotesque mass of decaying flesh.

Mantis was an enigma. No one knew much about the alien regarding its personal life or even its home planet and species. Though widely regarded as a serial killer, they did not discriminate in their choice of targets, which included individuals from various backgrounds, regardless of their wealth, innocence, or guilt. If they had an employer, no one knew who it was.

Another contestant slammed onto the battlefield and raised a cowboy hat slightly up with a finger while flicking a coin up and down. It spat a viscous acidic ball of slime on the ground before erupting into a coughing fit.

“King Volengi,” Domo the Bounty Hunter said. “I’ve been looking to meet you for a long time. Ya time is up, son.” He clicked his fingers and suddenly a localised gravitational force rivalling the sun weighed down on Volengi from every angle, threatening to compress him into nothing. He only grunted in response and resisted the force, every muscle tensed.

“Temporarily, we’ve decided to join forces,” Domo continued. “You’re not winning your own tournament.”

As if on cue, other contestants flew onto the battlefield in groups of threes and the Odemp reverted to its clone form, surrounding Volengi once more.

“He’s incapacitated!” Domo bellowed. “Fire!”

Everyone attacked with everything they had. Dozens of energy blasts hit at point-blank range along with bullets, axes, knives, spears and diamond shards. Five minutes later, the onslaught ceased.

“Is he dead?” one contestant said. “I can’t see anything. Too much dust.”

“Of course he’s dead. The dumb king couldn’t even destroy a slug—”

Dripping in purple blood, Volengi appeared behind the alien and with the mighty pinky finger, cleanly flicked its head off through the chest of the other questioning alien. He stepped forward, then groaned, dragging a hand across his face.

All of his efforts seemed to have been futile.

He could hear the viewers talking trash about him in their spaceships. From the beginning of the preliminaries, he had endured every attack thrown at him, refusing to evade and still, they doubted his dominance. Still, he was perceived as the pathetic king who couldn’t destroy a slug planet.

“Alright, okay, I see how it is,” Volengi said with a laugh, pain evident in his voice. “You motherfuckers. How many of you do I have to kill before you realise, huh?”

Confused faces surrounded him.

“Earth isn’t like the others!” Volengi shrieked. “Try to destroy it yourself on your own and you’ll see what I mean! They refuse to—”

He stopped himself. No excuses. The best never gave excuses.

“How about we make it more fair…” Volengi’s jaw extended wide and clamped down on his last arm. Then with one swift movement, he tore it off. “Everyone at once.”

“Stop, stop!” the commentator yelled frantically. “Congratulations to the 24 teams remaining! You have passed the preliminary stage!”