Physical fitness was essential in becoming a great fighter. Some would say that mental fortitude beat all, but Sav couldn’t quite agree. Certainly, one had to be prepared to face whatever challenges a brawl might present, yet Sav regarded the whole mental strength thing as preposterous. He believed in honing the body, pushing the limits of what the flesh was capable of. In his eyes, if you were able to extract yourself from the fight and experience it from a spectator’s perspective, you were already on the path to winning. That wasn’t about toughness; it was about understanding the opponent, and most importantly, yourself. After all, what was the point of being psychologically indestructible if your body couldn’t endure a blow? Maybe the concepts went hand in hand; Sav wasn’t sure. There was one thing he had mastered though—the art of preparation.

  When that initial adrenaline wore off in a fight, it all laid back upon your preparation. Those extra reps you put in, the punishment you conditioned your muscles to live through, and as Sav was nearing his fiftieth lap of the gravel road surrounding the old lake, he thought about just that. The young man’s mindset was instilled into him from his early fighting days. If the opponent gets out of bed at 5 a.m. to train, you do at 4! If he does a hundred reps, you double them! If he practices a four-punch combination, you make it five and execute it flawlessly! Sav stopped running and stood still, taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate down. The old lake was his favourite spot for jogging, and ever since the High State had bought it out nobody else dared to come. It wasn’t an issue for Sav; all he had to do was throw a fresh pack of cigarettes and a few zens through the tiny window of the greybeard’s cabin, and he would look the other way.

  After he had calmed his breathing down, Sav got into his fighting stance, keeping his feet apart and bending his knees. His right hand was draped over his eye and elbow tucked, the left hand was sticking forward, chin tucked behind his shoulder. He visualised an opponent, a head taller than himself, holding an opposite stance. He took a step towards him and struck a jab right into his belly, retreating immediately after, with his hands held high. Every little maneuver had purpose behind it; nothing was thrown just for the sake of it. No place for error. Sav started off with a straight again, rolling and pivoting to his left whilst landing a right to the body. If you landed two consecutive attacks, the adversary felt compelled to return a shot, and that’s when he was most vulnerable, Sav had been taught. Use it against him. The young fighter shelled up and shifted back, just in time to evade a heavy overhand right, the opponent had exposed himself, and Sav used the window to counter with a flying knee, shattering his jaw and knocking him out. Then, he got out of range, resuming his stance.

  “Hey, boy!” someone rasped.

  Sav glanced back; it was the man from the cabin.

  “They’re here for a routine checkup; you better get out of here!”

  “Oh, thanks,” Sav nodded.

  He knew of a narrow passage hidden between some bushy trees, so he hit the trail. Navigating his way through the long branches of ancient beech, he found himself alongside an old scrapyard. The workers there used to dump any unneeded parts into the lake, so maybe the involvement of the High State wasn’t so bad after all. If only they showed any concern for the citizens as well, but no. They had rolled in and taken over the government, put their own delegates in charge, and forgotten about Yuna. Surprisingly, the High State wasn’t to be blamed for the condition of the planet; things had always been rough. Sav had heard once from some old timers that it used to be even worse. Think this is bad? You should’ve seen this shit fifty years ago! Hell, I think it was even more fucked up! This…is paradise compared to those days! And for some reason, he didn’t doubt it for a second.

  Yuna was considerably smaller than the other planets in the galaxy. It had withstood many wars; came out unscathed from the Great Harb. An interplanetary conflict between nations that had taken place many millennia ago. Long before the High State had been formed. Kybernan Magnus and Yuna had been allies then, truly different times. Once inhabited by fierce guerrilla combatants, the planet had now faded in discussions of military power. The economy played a huge role in sustaining it and Yuna had nothing to offer. Foreign trade policy was non-existent, but not due to neglect by the congressmen; it just didn’t have much to offer in terms of raw materials. The planet consisted of two regions—Inner and Outer. The Inner Region was where most of the population had been crammed. Cities upon tiny cities, built around recycling factories of the High State. Every other month, huge shipments of damaged or unserviceable vehicles, such as spaceships, would be dropped off for disassembling, then recycled for goods. During those first weeks, when the workload was the heaviest, the toxic fumes released from the cooling towers would contaminate the atmosphere. It was gruesome, rough, a reality people had to live in. Sav didn’t know much about the Outer Region; he’d heard of nomadic tribes residing in the outskirts of the planet. There weren’t any actual cities or even villages established out there. Miles and miles of rock and coarse terrain until one couldn’t travel any more. Legends were told that the members of those tribes weren’t human or robots, but something else completely. Creatures who didn’t need food or water to live! True rulers of the outskirts…! Sav reached a small, weakened fountain and stooped down to rinse his face, the smell of the horrid air hitting his nostrils already.

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  Sav continued down a main road. Old women with scarves wrapped around their necks scurried around, some chasing after their kids and others leaning against the porches of tiny houses. As he progressed, the residences got better and better, which meant there was a factory nearby. He was the only person around, mainly because everyone else was at work. The fighter was about to make a left, when out of nowhere, a young kid jumped in front of him, dressed in old drapes and holding an improvised knife, pointed at Sav.

  “Empty your pockets!” The kid shouted.

  Sav landed a heavy slap on his wrist and grabbed him by the collar, the knife flew away.

  “Better luck next time.”

  Sav pushed him aside and went back on his way. Entering a narrow street which led to a secluded square area, hidden by long concrete walls on each side. Hot lines of the sun shone down on the houses, built upon one another, thick construction of metal boards separating them. Sav approached the first row on his right and began climbing up a ladder, stopping on the fourth house, if a one-room storage could be called that. He searched his pockets for a key, then unlocked the door, going inside. The place was humble, even by Yuna standards. The bedroom, kitchen, and living room were mixed into one; bathroom was separate. He'd been a homeowner thanks to fighting, something many couldn't say. Sav put the keys inside a flowerless vase on his table and stood in front of the kitchenette. Opening the fridge, he took three eggs out and cracked them into a bowl, stirring them up with a fork. He got a notification on his phone and picked it up. It was from the High State (H.S). It read:

  “Greetings, Mr. Orbona! The High State is pleased to inform you that you’ve been qualified to compete in our 100-man tournament, which will take place in Kybernan Magnus. The High State has officially sent out a spaceship to finalize your transfer. You’ll be picked up at midnight at the coordinates you’ve received. It is advised that you adhere to our arrival time. Thank you!”

  “Shit…” Sav held his head.

  He hurried to the bathroom and kneeled to open the cupboard under the sink, bringing out a black, shiny box. He unlatched it and took a small piece of metal out, resembling a razor blade. He laid his arm over the sink and turned on the water. Holding the metal piece between his thumb and index finger, he cut a straight line over his wrist and hissed. Crimson droplets pooled along the ridge and blood trickled down the ceramic bowl. The incision had to be deeper, so Sav went over it one more time, carving, a rivulet of red flooding his palm. The fighter shook his arm around twice to relax it, then began inserting the metal piece into the slit he’d made. He grunted heavily as more blood gushed out and the piece pierced its way under his skin, pulsing before settling on a spot. He took a deep breath and stretched his fingers, then made a fist and squeezed as hard as he could, grimacing. His wrist gleamed blue as he watched the small wound heal, leaving no trace.

  Sav walked over to his bed and grabbed a sack left next to it. He searched around for items that could be of use for the upcoming transfer. It didn’t take him long to collect everything he needed — syringes and needles, a few kinds of stimulants and pills, a Bowie knife, rubber bands, pocket watch, a belt, a stack of cards, and a book Gene had gifted him. Once he had everything, he dropped the bag close to the door and gave it a little kick, all set. He then went back to preparing his eggs.

  All the final arrangements had been settled. Sav was sitting in front of his house with the sack in his hand. He’d informed the head manager of the League that he wouldn’t be available for a while and stashed all the zens laying around in a secret spot. He’d ordered an air-cab, and while he was waiting, he thought about his life in Yuna. Most of his life had been spent training, fighting for survival in and out of the ring. The discipline he had built during countless sessions had guided him through every hardship he had suffered, and he was thankful that fate had introduced him to fighting. He heard the whirring of the air-taxi’s rotors and threw his bag over his shoulder, climbing down the ladder. He watched how the cab landed and waited until it was safe before hopping in.

  “Good evening!” a burly man with a purple mustache greeted him.

  “Hello,” Sav returned.

  “Where to, young man?” the vehicle was lifting off the ground.

  “To the old stadium.”

  “Right on! Could you buckle your seatbelt?”

  Sav complied and watched as they ascended higher and higher until his home was just a dot among the many others in town. Everything seemed so insignificant from up the sky, as if the town was a figment of some poor masochist's imagination. They flew over the poorer districts and into the better ones, you could tell by the gradual change of color. Then they passed the gray factories that had turned the place into a bigger wasteland, and finally, out of the city. Sav didn’t look back…

  The fighter paid the driver and jumped out of the cab, hearing the droning fade further into the distance with each passing second. He was all alone in the vast green landscape, except for a goat that was grazing in the distance… It was almost time. The message had said midnight. A gigantic, triangular shadow swallowed the entire stadium and Sav had to cover his ears against the deafening noise. A spaceship hovered above him, its three rotors attached to each corner, emitting powerful, neon blue lights while they spun at full speed. The aircraft was dark, devoid of any color, except the huge white lettering on one of its sides— STORM. As it neared the surface, the sheer power of the engine drowned out Sav’s thoughts with its relentless whirring.

  STORM executed a smooth landing, though the rotors never fully stopped. A hatch on the central part of the ship slid open, and a ramp extended, lodging itself in the dirt. Two officers walked out, spotted Sav and waved him over. One carried a firearm, while the other held a pad in his hand. Both wore vests which had ‘EAGLE’ embroidered on them. They were forced to shout.

  “Sav Orbona?”

  “That’s me,” Sav replied.

  “We’ll take care of that!” One of them motioned toward Sav’s bag, and he handed it over.

  “Welcome aboard, chump!”

  The officers led Sav inside, giving him a hard push, the ramp retracted, and the hatch sealed shut behind them.