The Arena
"NEXT MATCH!" Larry had recovered somewhat. His voice still hoarse from the previous screaming. "LYRIELLE XISTRITH VERSUS T'SHABALA SANI!"
VIP Box
Seraphina sat straighter. Her serene expression brightened. "Mine niece taketh the stage. Let us witness her grace."
The Fight
Lyrielle moved like water. Like wind. Her feet barely touched the ground. Each step was precise, calculated, elegant.
T'shabala was different. Scrappy. Street-smart. Her plasma pistol fired in bursts, forcing Lyrielle to move.
And Lyrielle DANCED.
She twisted between shots. Flipped backward. Her bow came up, arrows flying.
T'shabala rolled, narrowly avoiding one. Then another. She was GOOD. Tactical. Reading patterns. Finding gaps.
The crowd... well.
"Come on..."
"This is fine, I guess..."
"I mean, it's good but..."
They were TIRED. Exhausted from screaming for Juli. Their voices raw. Their energy depleted.
It was like watching a regular meal after tasting the finest cuisine. Objectively good. But the comparison was brutal.
Lyrielle noticed the lukewarm response. Her jaw tightened.
I need to end this. Now.
She fired a smoke arrow. White mist exploded across the arena.
T'shabala didn't panic. She MOVED. Reading sounds. Tracking movements.
Through the smoke, Lyrielle attacked hand-to-hand. A kick. T'shabala blocked. A palm strike. T'shabala countered.
They clashed. Quick exchanges. T'shabala held her own. Cunning. Adaptive.
But then—
A split second. T'shabala's foot slipped slightly on the sand. Just a fraction.
Lyrielle's bow was already drawn. Point-blank range.
THWIP. THWIP. THWIP.
Three arrows. Chest. Shoulder. Leg.
T'shabala went down.
The horn blared.
WINNER: LYRIELLE XISTRITH.
The crowd clapped. Respectful but subdued.
"Nice..."
"She won..."
"Good job, I guess..."
VIP Box
Seraphina STOOD. Her serene mask dropped. Pure joy. "GLORIOUS! Mine niece hath—"
Then she noticed.
Goldberg was ASLEEP. His massive head tilted back. All three arms hanging limp. Snoring.
Her face went RED. "THOU INSULENT—"
Goldberg's eyes snapped open. "Wha—? Oh! Match over? Sorry, sorry! It was just... you know..." He yawned. "A little boring after THAT opener."
"BORING?!"
"I mean, your niece is talented! Very talented! But compared to the BLONDE BRAWLER? The PASSION? The FIRE?!" He gestured wildly. "That was just... technical."
"TECHNICAL?!" Seraphina's elegant composure shattered. "Her movement was ART! Grace incarnate! How DARE thee compare—"
"I'm just saying! The kid knocked someone out in THREE SECONDS! Your niece took three MINUTES!"
Olivier leaned back, amused. "Ze captain makes a... controversial point."
"DO NOT ENCOURAGE HIM!"
Andre nodded. "Brother's right though. That Weiper boy set an impossible standard."
Bianca smiled slightly. "For once, I agree with Goldberg. Though Lyrielle's technique was admirable."
"SEE?! BIANCA GETS IT!"
"I will END thee, Goldberg!"
Saya remained neutral. "Both warriors displayed honor. Comparisons diminish their individual accomplishments."
"Thank you, Captain Nakamura!" Seraphina shot a glare at Goldberg.
Sparta's gentle rumble cut through. "The young Xistrith fought well. The crowd be tired from shoutin'. 'Tis not her fault."
Fang was trying not to laugh. "Y'all are really arguin' about this?"
"YES!" Multiple captains responded simultaneously.
Next Match
"POLO ROSSI VERSUS ABIGAIL WINSLOW!"
Abigail fought smart. Her staff was versatile. Long reach. Quick strikes. She kept Polo at distance, using the weapon to control space.
Polo's pistols fired. She deflected with the staff. Spun. Swept low. He jumped.
It was actually... good. Technical. Strategic.
Abigail managed to land a hit. The staff connected with Polo's shoulder. He grunted.
But his black eyes never stopped calculating.
He baited her. Feinted left. She committed to block.
He went right.
Both pistols came up. Point-blank.
Two shots. Chest and leg. Simultaneously.
Abigail went down.
WINNER: POLO ROSSI.
VIP Box
Bianca stood, clapping elegantly. "Well executed. Precision and patience."
Goldberg groaned. "Really? We're celebrating THAT?"
"Excuse me?" Bianca's red hair seemed to catch fire. Her eyes locked onto him.
"I'm just SAYING! Where's the PASSION?! Where's the FIRE?! He just... shot her! Boom! Done! No FLAIR!"
"That's called EFFICIENCY, Goldberg."
"EFFICIENCY IS BORING!"
"PASSION WITHOUT SKILL IS RECKLESSNESS!"
"SKILL WITHOUT PASSION IS LIFELESS!"
Andre pinched the bridge of his nose. "Here we go again..."
Olivier sipped tea. "Zis is quite entertaining, non?"
Louis Vors Kiel remained silent. But his empty eyes flicked between them. Almost... amused?
Raider Outpost
The energy was DEAD.
Raiders sat slumped in chairs. Drinks untouched. Screens showing the fights, but nobody was really watching.
"This is..."
"Yeah..."
"After that first match..."
"I know..."
"It's like... we peaked too early."
"Watching Juli was like inhaling drugs, man. Pure adrenaline straight to the brain. Now everything else feels... flat."
"When's he fighting again?"
"Not until quarterfinals."
"WHAT?!"
Collective groans.
Ragnar remained focused. But even he felt it. That first fight had been... special. Everything after felt muted in comparison.
Outer Rim Home
The match ended. Polo walked off the arena floor.
Mary pointed at the screen. "Oh! Pietro! Is that your brother?"
Pietro smiled. That warm, genuine smile. "Yeah. That's Polo. My little brother."
"He's really good!" Mary leaned forward. "Very precise."
"He's always been like that. Calculated. Methodical." Pietro's expression became more serious. "He'll be a formidable opponent for Juli. When they inevitably meet."
Mary's smile faltered slightly. "You think they'll fight?"
"In the finals? Or even before?" Pietro nodded slowly. "It's almost guaranteed. And when they do..." He paused. "It's going to be brutal."
Juno looked between them. "But you want Juli to win, right Daddy?"
Pietro pulled her close. Kissed the top of her head. "Of course, little star. Always."
But his eyes remained on the screen. On his brother. On the complicated web of family and legacy and secrets that bound them all together.
When you two meet, brother... the galaxy's going to learn the truth.
The matches continued.
But everyone knew.
Everyone was just waiting for one thing.
For Juli to fight again.
Everything else was just filler.