Savage Awakening 532. Man vs. Dragon (III)

“It’s been a testy lead-up to this point,” said Becca.

They did a quick recap of some of the drama of fight week.

First, there was a sculpture gallery opening where Reina and Princess Dya were both present—an exhibition by the Master Sculptor Sylas, whose works Reina sponsored. The papers widely covered it as a “royal scuff-up.”

There were recordings of Princess Dya walking up to Reina and saying something that, judging by her expression, couldn’t have been nice. But Reina fired back. The exchange ended with Dya sniffling—“That Zane just couldn’t leave well enough alone!”

Then she dashed away in tears, leaving Reina standing there, looking baffled. She actually went after Dya.

“I’m… really not sure what to make of that,” said Becca.

“There’s clearly some baggage there,” said Tyler.

They also aired a last-minute message from the organizers, featuring Patriarch Azure Flame. “I’ve been hearing talk of  human-dragon tensions in recent weeks, sparked by this exhibition,” he said. “Let’s remember, gentlemen. This fight is a show of strength for all the forces of life, man or dragon! We need not squabble amongst ourselves, and do Malzareth’s dirty work for him! To the humans watching, I say—regardless of the result, you should be very proud of your champion.”

Then he grinned widely.

The scene changed to the stadium, which was quickly filling up.

***

The fight would take place on the legendary dead megastar Grommon, among the densest of its class. Grommon was formed near the dawn of the Chaos Cycle. It’d burned out after nearly 6 million years. All that was left of it was a great black core streaked with silver. It was chosen after careful deliberations by Deep Earth Hall and Steelheart engineers to withstand the caliber of the duel it’d soon host. There were steels in the Galaxy as durable as the rock of Grommon. But precious few covered as vast a territory—a necessity for a duel like this. 

The surface was all a rock-crystal material of Divine Profound resistance, and ultra-dense, too. Forces that would shatter most planets entirely would hardly dent this one, and it took Empyrean-tier attacks just to make small craters.

The duel would take place across a vast swathe of this surface. The viewers were fanned out in rings of stands, which rose in an asteroid belt hugging the arena. It seated 1.4 billion in total, orders of magnitude less than the total anticipated viewership. That was rumored to number well over half of Dragonspire.

Even the nosebleeds were eye-wateringly expensive, with prices set in Primordial stones. But the price showed in the seating. Besides the standard luxury amenities you could set the environment to be whatever you wished, including the Laws. Merfolk of the Thousand Seas Tribe, for instance, made their stands these bubbles of floating water. The dragonfolk liked theirs hotter, as did the Phoenixes. Embers floated over their booths.

Golem servers shuffled between the stands. Thanks to recent archaeological digs unearthed by the Barbarian Sage—quite an unlikely source of innovation, it was widely agreed—these golems were all fitted with the latest rune technologies. They could now respond to simple commands and carried coolers filled with a Galaxy-spanning variety of drinks and snacks, including the recent Earth-derived addition of popcorn, which was becoming an increasingly big hit. It hadn’t yet displaced fried squid, the preferred choice of most fightgoers, but it was catching on.

One Avery Lively noticed the surplus of popcorn as she made her way into the arena and began scheming a popcorn business side hustle.

***

“Spire’s End Arena,” intoned Jake Land. He straightened his bowtie. “A Great Faction’s ransom to renovate and three months of toil to rush-build… it’s the only venue that could possibly match the grandeur of this fight. And what a fight it’s shaping up to be. My name is Jake Land, head announcer for WRN Channel 1, coming to you live ringside. I’ve covered Zane events before—most notably his Ragnos run. But never a spectacle of this magnitude… just looking at that star core, taking it all in… it’s hard not to get shivers. Your thoughts, partner?”

“It looks solid enough,” said a gruff voice.

Jake chuckled. “That voice you hear is your co-host—Stoneheart Mox, six-time Eclipse champ, ranked #38 on the Hegemon Scroll. Tonight, he’ll be lending us his expertise... Just an hour to go until the light dims, and the heavy-hitters are piling in. Every one of the Nine Great Faction heads is in attendance! If you want a list of the men and women of consequence in Dragonspire—the folks on whose backs rests the very fate of this galaxy as the war rolls in—you could do worse than a scan of the lower booths.”

The scene panned to a box that looked like a shard cut out of the world, smoking with shadow Laws. A man in a raven-feathered cape sat on a throne of obsidian, wearing a mask with no face.

“The Nameless King’s with us. He needs no introduction. Head of the Guild of Endless Shadows. Though most know him as the most dreaded assassin of all time, having never failed a single assignment,” said Jake Land. “In terms of Empyrean kills, man and monster, he’s second to none.”

A graphic flashed up on the screen showing his basic stats and accomplishments—3 Prime Endbringers slain, and other nicknames such as ‘the Gloved Hand of Death.’ It also included his ‘#2’ Hegemon ranking.

“I’ve dealt with the man before,” said Mox. “Ruthless as they come. Hate it when you’re against him, but you like it when he’s drawing blood on Malzareth, I’ve got to admit. He’s one of only a handful to manage that feat.”

“With him are his star pupils—Rising Dragon #3, the Moon Prince, Lain. No doubt he’s invested in this fight.” A very skinny, pale man with a scythe dangled carelessly across his shoulders.

“Lain’s rumored to break through to Empyrean too.” 

“He’ll be strong,” said Mox gravely. “But nowhere near the First Prince. Nowhere near Zane Walker, either, when it comes to raw talent. Those two... it’s fitting they’re fighting today, put it that way.”

There was also one Jason Walker, reclining on a cloak of blood-tinged shadow. He seemed to sense the camera and grinned at it.

Not far off—“Patriarch Steelheart! He’s been ranked #5 since I was first coming up, all those years ago. Now I’m retired, and he’s still holding that rank. Steady as steel. When it comes to pure power, you’d be hard-pressed to match him. I’ve seen him crush dwarf stars with a single hammer blow.”

Patriarch Steelheart was a man as thick as he was tall, with two hammers crossed over his back. He had a thick beard, chest hair, and arm hair. He stood on a float of simple steel along with the rest of his crew.

“Steelheart’s got one of the biggest turnouts as a faction tonight!” said Jake. 

“They stick up for their own,” said Mox. He gave a curt nod.

A few other Steelheart Elders shared that float, including the Barbarian Sage, who was busy chowing down on Roc legs. Oil flew everywhere, to the astonishment of several onlookers. But the Sage didn’t care. He kept on merrily chowing.

“And there’s Zane’s master—the Barbarian Sage! He’s a character, alright. You’d never know he was one of the most feared names in this galaxy not long ago.”

“I don’t care how long retired he is. Don’t care how many wounds he’s got,” said Mox. “I fought with that man on the Frontier.”

“That’s the Frontier Campaigns of 200k, for our newer viewers,” said Jake. “Half the Hegemon Scroll was dispatched to take down invading Empyrean Voidgods. Those are alien monsters, folks, monsters spawned in the Deadlands right outside this galaxy! It was seen as a real crisis at the time.”

“That’s right,” said Mox, arms crossed. “I saw that man fighting up close, and all I’ll say is this: Jogo could have a damned foot in the grave, and I’d still take him over half the top 10.”

“I’d agree. Some viewers might wonder why he’s unranked, if that’s the case, though.”

“They don’t rank folks they don’t have enough recent data on. But there are a few folks like him out there in this galaxy. Hidden dragons.”

There were a fair few Steelheart floats higher up too, full of core and inner-sect Disciples. They were cheering their hearts out—“Champ! Champ! Champ!” Many sloshing tankards of ale were thrown around too.

The scene panned to a shaggy giant of a man just a few booths away. Square-jawed, gray-haired, thickly scarred. A massive scar ripped across his face, badly covered by an eye patch.

“That Brondir was another hidden dragon,” said Mox. 

“That’s the Deep Earth Hall’s new chief!” said Jake. “After shaking off some rust last war, he’s re-taken the #3 spot on the Hegemon Ranking. Truly one of the most respected ancestors of the Deep Earth Hall. He’s seen more battles than some whole factions put together. They had to press him out of retirement to take the job. The Hall can rest assured they’ve got a steady hand at the helm.”

“That’s one hell of a lot of fighting experience in one square mile.”

“We’ve got the firebrand of Mount Thundercrest, Lady Thalia, here too.” 

A lady who could’ve been an Amazon goddess lounged on a tiger-fur couch. She was drinking straight from the bottle. Then she finished it, wiped her mouth, wrinkled her nose, almost poking out a serving robot’s eye with the spear strapped to her back. She grinned and waved. She seemed a little tipsy.

“That must be some strong drink to get Thalia like that,” chuckled Jake. “She’s got some of the densest Godbeast blood of anyone!” 

#4 Hegemon flashed up by her name.

“Don’t let her fool you. She likes to have her fun, but she’s a deadly one. Stronger than her rank, in my estimation,” said Mox. “The Scryer’s Guild doesn’t get it all right. They put her there because the rest of the top 10 are better at taking down mass mobs. But one-on-one, in a straight duel, I’ve seen that woman take down a Prime Endbringer.”

Her spear crackled with lightning, as though in agreement.

“Right beside her is the new Eternal Ice head,” said Jake. “That’s the Frost Saintess, Cassia… a prior generation’s #1 Rising Dragon. She was long rumored to be the next Frost Saintess. It’s just a shame she had to inherit it under these circumstances.”

Her Hegemon rank was #17.

“You might be wondering why some heads rank so low,” Jake continued. “Just a reminder, folks—the Hegemon Scroll ranks all active Empyreans, which includes Grand Elders and Ancestors! Not just heads.”

Thalia threw an arm around Cassia’s shoulders and asked her a question, slurring a little. The Frost Saintess blinked, flustered; she managed to compose herself enough to reply.

“She’s got big shoes to fill,” said Mox gravely. “You never know with new blood. Some, like that Reina girl, find the fire. Others… it’s hard to say. But she’ll have to, and fast. The fate of her faction will rest on it.”

***

There was also Kaili, head of the Thousand Seas Tribe, on a raft with her favorite pupils, including one Avery Lively, who was lounging with sunglasses and a fizzy drink.

Not far away, Evan Armstrong stood on a starscape float alongside the Constellation King. Neighbors overheard him eagerly trying to convince the Constellation King that Zane would win for sure. The King humored the little fellow.

***

“We’re just waiting on the coaches and the cornermen to make their final preparations,” said Jake Land. “They’re talking to their fighters in the fight pens, underground, doing last-minute prep… there’s Reina, exiting now!”

A square had opened in the stone. An elevator lift rose, depositing Reina on the surface. She made her way purposefully to her booth.

But as she walked, another square of Star Core opened up right in her path.

“Oh, my,” said Jake, brow creasing. “That’s Patriarch Azure Flame and his contingent out too…”

The rank of #1 flashed next to his name.

“…Could be trouble,” said Mox.

But the Patriarch was all great big smiles, the picture of confidence. He just held out a hand to Reina as she drew near.

She acted like it didn’t exist, just walked on by, raising her chin as she did. The Patriarch laughed.

“She’s Faction Head. He won’t do much to her, not in public” said Mox. “But it’s still a brave thing, crossing Azure Flame like that. There’s pride, and there’s Lyxandor.”

“He’s making his way to his booth now… he seems unbothered.”

“I know that dragon,” said Mox darkly. “He might seem a lot of things.”

Once they’d taken their positions, the lights began to dim. A tiny white-haired announcer in spiffy gold robes took the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen… it’s time! One round to decide it, to death or submission!”

Those squares opened back up.

And for the first time, the lifts brought the combatants to the surface.

There stood Zane, blinking at all the sudden flashing lights—the bursts of cheering.

Haxorax stood exactly fifty miles away, hunched and extremely still.

Both of them were bound by force fields.

“Challenger, are you ready?” said the announcer. Zane nodded.

“Challenger, are you ready!”

For a heartbeat, Haxorax stood silent, head held low. You couldn’t even see his eyes over his lanky hair. Then, slowly, they opened. Bloodshot. He took a shuddering breath.

“Yes,” growled the First Prince.

“Then let the duel commence!”

The force fields dropped.