The morning air buzzed with anticipation as servants scurried through the palace corridors, preparing the ceremonial arena for what everyone knew would be a spectacle. Word of Princess Lucy’s challenge had spread like wildfire through the compound, and conversations in hushed tones filled every corner.
Kelvin sat at the breakfast table, chanically shoving food into his mouth while staring at nothing. His cybernetic arms moved with uncharacteristic sluggishness, and when Diana asked him to pass the juice, he nearly knocked over three glasses in the process.
"I don’t know how to feel about this," he announced to no one in particular. "On one hand, Sophie’s my friend and I want her to win. On the other hand, Princess Lucy is absolutely terrifying and I kind of don’t want Sophie to get her face rearranged by royalty."
"Your moral support is overwhelming," Sophie said dryly, though she was smiling.
"I’m conflicted!" Kelvin threw his hands up. "Plus, if Sophie destroys the princess, are we going to get kicked off the planet? Because I was really starting to like the room service here."
Lyra rolled her eyes. "Your priorities are remarkably consistent."
"Thank you. I work hard to maintain my brand,"
Lucas had been unusually quiet throughout breakfast, pushing his food around his plate without actually eating any of it. The easy confidence he usually carried was nowhere to be found, replaced by sothing that looked suspiciously like dread.
"Lucas," Noah said quietly, "you okay?"
"No," Lucas replied without looking up. "I really don’t like this. Any of it."
"Sophie can handle herself."
"It’s not about that." Lucas finally t his eyes. "It’s about what happens after. Win or lose, this changes things. Lucy doesn’t do anything without a reason, and I’m starting to think we’re all missing sothing important."
Before anyone could respond, a palace guard appeared at their table. "Prince Lucas, your father requests your presence in the ceremonial arena. The formal combat will begin shortly."
They made their way through corridors that seed more crowded than usual, palace staff and minor nobles positioning themselves for the best views of the upcoming spectacle. The ceremonial arena was an impressive space carved into the palace’s lower levels, with tiered seating surrounding a circular combat floor that had been polished to mirror perfection.
King Damien Grey stood at the center of the arena, but gone was his casual "Galaxy’s #1 Dad" t-shirt. Instead, he wore formal robes and his expression carried the weight of centuries of tradition.
"Friends, family, honored guests," Damien’s voice carried easily through the arena, amplified by the natural acoustics of the space. "Today we witness sothing that hasn’t occurred in generations—formal combat to settle a dispute of the heart."
He gestured toward the arena floor, where intricate patterns had been carved into the stone. "This arena has seen the blood of champions, the resolution of feuds that might otherwise have torn families apart, and the forging of bonds that shaped our civilization. The tradition of trial by combat isn’t rely about strength—it’s about conviction, about the willingness to stake everything on what you believe to be right."
Sophie and Lucy took their positions on opposite sides of the arena. Sophie wore practical combat gear that allowed for full range of movent.
Lucy had chosen form-fitting armor that looked like it had been grown rather than forged, with conduits running along the limbs that would channel her electrical abilities.
"The rules are simple," Damien continued. "First to yield or be rendered unconscious loses. No weapons beyond personal abilities and what has been provided. No outside interference. No killing blows." His gaze swept across both combatants. "Are both parties ready to—"
A palace guard sprinted into the arena, his face flushed with exertion and sothing that looked like panic. He whispered urgently in Damien’s ear, and the king’s expression shifted from ceremonial gravity to sothing much more dangerous.
"The combat is suspended," Damien announced, his voice cutting through the murmurs of confusion from the assembled crowd.
"What?" Lucy’s voice cracked like a whip across the arena. "Father, you can’t suspend a formal challenge once it’s been—"
"I can and I am," Damien snapped, his casual deanor completely gone. "What you have going on here isn’t more important than a a beast horde."
The arena fell silent except for the soft hum of the palace’s energy systems. Lucy stared at her father like he’d spoken in an alien language.
"A beast horde?" Her voice was smaller now, uncertain. "We haven’t had one of those in years."
"That’s correct," Damien said grimly. "And we probably wouldn’t have had one now, except Vex Marduk was released by my own authority this morning. He’s likely the culprit."
Noah felt his stomach drop. ’Shit. This is because of Ivy. Because I took her from him.’
"What level of horde?" Lucy asked, but her voice suggested she already suspected the answer.
"Level 4," Damien replied. "First wave."
"First wave?" Lucy’s face went pale. "That’s about three thousand beasts! And there are more waves coming?"
Damien shook his head. "Even if the numbers are off, the categories of these beasts are the real issue. Two to three thousand beasts, but if there are higher categories among them..." He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
The king was already moving, shouting orders to guards who appeared from seemingly nowhere. "I want all available troops mobilized imdiately! Contact Beta and Gamma commands—we need reinforcents, but it’ll take ti for them to arrive. Alert the orbital defense platforms, full combat readiness!"
Lucy was running after him, her challenge forgotten. "I’m leading a team to the outer settlents! We need to intercept them before they reach civilian populations!"
Noah’s team found themselves swept along in the sudden chaos, following Lucas as he tried to keep up with his family’s rapid tactical discussions.
"It’s Vex," Noah said grimly as they walked. "This is because I took Ivy from him."
Lucas nodded, his face grim. "It’ll take ti for reinforcents to arrive from Beta and Gamma. The orbital defenses are designed to stop ships, not individual beasts that are already on the surface. And if these beasts are under Vex’s direct control..."
"Where the hell did he even get three thousand Category 4 beasts?" Kelvin asked, his usual humor completely absent.
Noah sighed. "It was probably his insurance policy. His bargaining chip in case the royal family ever decided his operations were getting out of line. I had no idea this was even a possibility—the facility Sophie and I were in couldn’t possibly house that many creatures."
"He had other facilities," Lucas said, his tactical mind working through the implications. "Hidden ones, probably distributed across multiple locations to avoid detection. Three thousand beasts... that’s not just a collection, that’s an army."
They reached the palace’s main command center, where Damien stood before a massive holographic display showing the planet’s surface. Red dots were spreading across the outer settlents like a digital infection, each one representing confird beast sightings.
"The problem isn’t just numbers," Lucas continued, addressing his team while watching the tactical display. "Our people are strong—every adult on Raiju Pri has lightning abilities, and our military is among the best in human space. But Category 4 beasts aren’t just strong, they’re smart. They coordinate, they adapt, they learn from each engagent."
On the display, the first responder ships were already launching from military bases across the planet, sleek craft that moved like silver arrows through the morning sky. Soldiers in powered armor filled transport after transport, their equipnt crackling with electrical energy.
"Add in the fact that they’re potentially under human control," Lucas went on, "and we’re not just fighting a horde—we’re fighting a directed military operation. Vex knows our capabilities, our deploynt patterns, probably even our response protocols."
Damien stood on a raised platform overlooking the command center, and Noah barely recognized him.
Far...far Gone was every trace of the goofy father figure they’d t on their arrival. This man wore armor that seed to drink in the ambient light, his posture radiating authority that made the air itself feel heavier. His expression was carved from stone, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of absolute command.
"All units, this is King Damien Grey," his voice bood through the communication systems. "We have a Category 4 horde approaching civilian sectors. This is not a drill. All citizens in evacuation zones, move to designated shelters imdiately. All military personnel, engage the enemy with extre prejudice. No quarter, no hesitation. Protect our people."
Lucas turned to his team. "We’re going out there. We get a craft and join the fight."
User Comments
0 comments from readers