Pain flared along the right side of Hunter’s face. He stumbled, but righted himself in time to block the follow up cross from his opponent.

  His quick undercut connected with his opponent’s torso. Just under the ribs. The shorter, stouter man grunted and grimaced, stepping back and trying to hide the flaring pain from the blow.

  The crowd exploded in cheers. He winced, the volume of it was like a physical assault.

  It was a den of howling wolves. The screech of carrion-starved birds. A single-note chorus, no words, just a single syllable maintained by strained vocal chords.

  All he could smell was sweat. His feet hurt from the hot, rough sand. Dark brown stains and a bloody handprint marred the stone barricades surrounding the pit.

  The sun had set, yet the heat remained. Hunter heaved a deep breath and spit out a glob of blood.

  This was fight night.

  Hunter created some space. They considered each other for a few moments. The man’s eyes spelled death, but Hunter feared nothing from him. He’d taken his measure over the last few minutes.

  A good fighter. None who witnessed their exchanges could doubt that. But Hunter could tell that his training had been better.

  Their fight had a rhythm which Hunter had let himself surrender to. He let obvious opportunities slip by in favour of prolonging the fight. He wanted to test himself, to improve. The man grew more frustrated, his blows game faster and harder. The opportunities to strike became more obvious, and he had to discipline himself. He didn’t let himself hesitate. All he knew was action and reaction. Despite the pain he was putting his opponent through, the man matched him blow for blow. Block for block.

  Hunter thought of Aera. His concentration slipped. He ducked a lightning-fast hook and barely flinched out of the way of another. He was off balance, but his opponent had over extended. Sensing the danger he was in, the man reeled backwards.

  They both scrambled to recover. Hunter was faster. He charged, tackling his opponent into the wall, and then the fight was over. When Hunter readied himself to pummel the man’s ribs into powder, he ended up carrying his opponent’s full weight instead. Thinking that the man was trying to limit his movements, Hunter pushed himself away and hopped backwards.

  The back of the man’s head must have slammed into the wall. His limp body fell to the sand like a puppet having its strings cut.

  Hunter sighed. One victory down, a couple more to go. He beckoned for the medic.

  As he turned to exit the small arena, he frowned. Two burly men were standing there with their arms crossed. Their clothes were clean, and they seemed well groomed. They weren’t peacekeepers, but he’d put money on them being pampered loyalists. A slimmer, shorter man in Peacekeeper garb walked into the arena from between them, followed by two more.

  Muffled voices arose from the crowd. He couldn’t make out the conversations, but he heard the words double down more than once. It didn’t take a genius to deduce what it might mean for him.

  He spied the titanic form of Mouse near the back of the crowd, standing head and shoulders above everyone, seeming to care little for how much he stood out.

  The Peacekeeper drew closer, and Hunter recognized one of the men that followed him. It was his opponent from his previous fight, two nights ago. The same one he’d traded threatening glares with at the doctor’s office. The Peacekeeper grabbed Hunter by the shoulder with a vice grip that felt like it could crush dense stone. He pulled Hunter towards him. He leaned forward.

  “That’s twice now that you’ve sent one of my men to the medic tent. You’ve got spirit. I can respect that. But I must remind you of your station.”

  The words were quiet. None but Hunter would have heard it. So why was Mouse suddenly looking like he’d just eaten something rotten?

  Hunter felt cold. Dread and fury warred within him. He felt the temptation to curse, but he pushed the urge away and pursed his lips together.

  Judging by this Peacekeeper’s strength, he must be an Elemental Initiate. Hunter had no confidence in being able to cross such a wide gap in strength with skill alone.

  On this other hand, even after having just fought a tough fight, the Peacekeeper’s subordinates looked like they wouldn’t be too much of a challenge.

  “My friends and comrades. My name is Rowen. Today is a great day. Our Fleet Commander has conquered all challenges for his position. As I speak, he and the rest of our glorious fleet are expanding throughout the sector, imposing well-needed peace and order where before, there was none. And who but our Fleet Commander is more suited to such a task?”

  Hunter was almost surprised to hear the crowd roar. But a brief look at the faces surrounding the arena wall revealed that the loudest voices came from other peacekeepers, and those that stood closest to them. The rest seemed rather half-spirited.

  Mouse’s placid, disinterested look had returned, but he kept his eyes fixed on the speaker. Hunter’s attention didn’t seem to register with him.

  “With the death of the traitorous, dishonoured Captain Luen, there are no longer any obstacles to our greatness in this sector. This is a greatness that you all have a small part to play in. To honour your hard work and devotion to our cause, I’ll give you a special show. Double down!”

  The response from the crowd was more enthusiastic this time.

  “On one side, our valiant victor! Our courageous contender. He’s already won once tonight. Can he do it again? And on the other side,” the Peacekeeper pointed towards the two men who’d followed him in.

  “My apprentices. Khen,” the one Hunter was more familiar with raised his hand, enjoying the energy of the crowd, “and Orchur.”

  “This isn’t simply a double-down match. This resolves a feud between myself and this impressive young man! Today is a day that we draw a line in the sand. Not a slave, not a village, not a world, can rise against us!”

  Although scattered, the answering call was loudest where other Peacekeepers and loyalists gathered. Some, a few who Hunter recognized from his time out in the mines and scavenging fields, cheered with eyes bulging.

  That this was a death match had yet to fully sink in.

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  “Fighters! Begin!”

  It was odd, he thought, that he wasn’t feeling much of anything at that moment.

  His enemies charged at him, and he imagined that from their perspective, he was already half-dead prey. It wasn’t far from the truth. The last fight had taken a lot out of him.

  That being said, he hadn’t given it his all.

  With a slight effort of will, the etherium cycling within him sped up. He felt a sense of invigoration overtake his tired limbs. His mind revved into motion, and he noticed that something might be wrong with him.

  He once more considered that he wasn’t feeling much at that moment, and what he could sense felt muddled and distant. The hot sand felt like a dull warmth. The pain in his body had become more vague. He couldn’t quite make out where his knees were, almost as if his legs were becoming numb.

  “Something’s wrong,” he tried to say, but it came out as muffled slur or syllables.

  Was it a fist to that hit his gut, or a foot? Why wasn’t he paying attention? He keeled over from the force of it, but he hardly felt it.

  Something was wrong.

  “Begging for your life already?” one of his opponents said. Had it been Khen?

  Pain flared across the side of his head. He fell to the ground.

  Was it the etherium? Had cycling it done something to him? Had he broken himself, somehow? Maybe he should have sought guidance before taking that pill. He didn’t feel tired or lethargic. He just felt numb. As the seconds ground away, he decided he wasn’t very interested in how this fight turned out.

  Am I going to die here? Hunter wondered, with the same amount of curiosity he might have over the latest celebrity gossip. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he nearly forgot he’d had it.

  Shouldn’t he feel some way about his impending doom?

  But Hunter was quite content to let Khen and Orchur kill them if they felt they had to. After all, it wasn’t really his problem, was it? In fact, their anger seemed a lot like their own problem. The warmth of the sand wasn’t so bad, anyway. If someone were to ask him, he’d say that it wasn’t a terrible place to live out his last moments.

  A voice boomed across the roar of the crowd.

  “Enough!”

  “Who dares?” said Rowen, who was standing straight ahead of Hunter.

  Someone landed in front of Hunter’s face. He heard Khen and Orchur scream. Their voices sounded like they were flying away at rapid speeds.

  “The bloody mouse has grown a spine, eh?” Rowen said. He sounded amused. Or skeptical. Hunter couldn’t tell.

  Hunter felt himself being picked up, though he felt no hands touch him. The invisible force lifted him over the height of the wall, and towards the standby medic. He recognized the doctor there, as well.

  Wait a minute, he thought, as his dampened mind caught up with what was going on. Had Mouse interrupted the fight?

  If he could shrug, he would. The thought had seemed pretty significant a second ago. Why was that? The doctor and medic took him, and they both started checking him over. The medic measured his pulse, and the doctor stared into his eyes. His eyebrows widened.

  “What’s up, doc?” Hunter asked.

  “Poison. I know this one,” the doctor said, “Bronze Ambrosia.”

  The medic cursed, letting go of Hunter’s wrist and checking his bag.

  “Poison?” Hunter asked. It made sense, he figured. As apathetic as he felt, he knew that how he was acting was out of the norm for him. But so what? He felt alright.

  “Here,” the medic said, handing the doctor a syringe with a very long needle attached to it. Hunter raised his eyebrows. There was a time, not too long ago, when the length of such a needle would probably frighten him.

  Then he remembered where he was and what had just happened. A single small bubble of curiosity rose from the depths of his psyche, popping as it breached the surface of his consciousness. The small ripple of emotion held his attention for a brief second.

  “How’s Mouse doing?” Hunter asked, “is he fighting?”

  “I need something stronger than a general antidote, boy. Get me some package of Journey’s End, and a full vial of Summer’s Crescent.”

  More muttered curses followed. Hunter looked up at the sky. It seemed like a hundred thousand stars were out that night. Were there usually that many stars?

  He couldn’t think of any reason the number of stars would change too much, day by day. He nodded to himself. It was a good enough answer for him. He wondered whether the sight of all those bright, colourful dots should strike him with a sense of beauty. After waiting for a few moments, and with nothing like awe or rapture appearing, he gave up and checked back on the doctor.

  “You won’t feel this going in, Hunter,” the doctor said, holding the syringe, “but it’s going to act quick, and you will feel it coming out. I’ll try to make it quick. Try not to scream. Ready?”

  “Sure?” Hunter said. The medic stuffed a cloth into Hunter’s mouth, which caused Hunter to giggle. It seemed so unnecessarily aggressive. He was going to ask what the cloth was for, but all he could do was let out a few muffled noises before he felt the doctor slide the needle in his upper abdomen, around his solar plexus.

  He spasmed. It felt kind of funny at first. Within seconds, anguish eclipsed his humour. Every muscle felt like it was cramping at once, and then they relaxed, only for another wave of cramps to spread from where the needle was still in his gut. The doctor dragged the needle out, and Hunter stifled a scream.

  The next wave of pain was greater than the two before it, and he couldn’t hold back the cry of pain which escaped his throat. Thankfully, the cloth muffled most of it, and stopped him from grinding his teeth or accidentally biting his tongue.

  Then came the emotions. He sat up and tore the cloth out of his mouth.

  “Careful—” the doctor started, but Hunter was fuming.

  “What the hell just happened to me? What did they dose me with?”

  Another question rose to the forefront of his mind.

  When did they dose him? And the answer came immediately.

  It was obvious. Rowen probably didn’t have to grab him by the shoulder like he had. He glanced at his right shoulder. Sure enough, there was a minor cut near where his pectoral connected to the deltoid.

  “Son of a—”

  Tormented screams echoed from the arena.

  Hunter turned and saw Mouse tearing off one of Khen’s arms. He tossed the arm and its former owner to either side. Then the giant held out a hand, and glowing lines manifested across his skin. Mouse aimed his hand at Rowen, who flickered a meter to the left, just in time to avoid a blast of neon blue energy which emerged from Mouse’s hand.

  The sight of Mouse’s glowing body was hypnotising. Maybe it was a side-effect of the poison, or the anti-dote the doctor had given him, but Hunter felt entranced.

  Those bright lines glowing across Mouse’s skin were like thousands of fragments of formations. They flashed in strange patterns, and energy flowed from them towards his hand once more, but this time it didn’t stop.

  And the aura—it was similar yet different to anything he’d ever felt before.

  Beams like the rapid pulse of a plasma rifle emitted from those hands. Wherever the pulses of energy landed, a small explosion followed. More Peacekeepers appeared in the arena. Hunter felt stifled by their auras.

  “We need to get out of here. This is about to turn into a bloodbath!” the medic said, pulling Hunter away and trying to do the same to the doctor. The doctor tore away from the medic’s grip.

  “No, they will need me here once everything is over. I can take care of myself. Bring Hunter back to the camp.”

  Hunter wanted to protest. He wanted to watch. Mouse, who had seemed so passive and harmless, now resembled a walking storm. A one-man army.

  A peacekeeper flickered and appeared beside him, only to be blasted away by an invisible wave of force. Hunter didn’t recognize the feeling. It felt similar to the Force element he was used to, but there were some apparent differences that he needed more time to understand.

  He also knew that there was a significant risk of one of the plasma blasts being accidentally fired in his direction.

  “Damnit,” he cursed. With great reluctance, Hunter turned away from the devastation.

  Suddenly, everything went quiet. He and the medic turned to see what had changed. The doctor was already running towards the centre of the arena, where Khen laid motionless, blood pouring from where his arm was torn from his torso.

  More Peacekeeper bodies lay scattered in various states of dismemberment and death. Mouse stood towards the arena’s entrance, holding a struggling Rowen by the throat with one hand. Rowen tried to kick at Mouse’s still form, and Mouse stared straight into Rowen’s eyes.

  “Atuza will hear of this! There will be nowhere for you to hide.”

  Then Mouse dropped the man and laughed.

  “Behold the great, mighty Peacekeepers!” The giant said in a mocking tone. “Atuza is an undisciplined child. If he is so desperate to be chastised, I don’t mind paying him a visit.”

  He laughed again, turning to Hunter and giving him a nod before he, too, flickered and disappeared. A sense of self preservation kicked in and Hunter left. The grounds around the arena were still clearing out. He spotted Os among the retreating slaves. Hunter rushed over to him.