Protector of His Kind (Sidus Book 2): LitRPG Series E-Book

Dan Sugralinov

• Herausgeber: Magic Dome Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

My name is Carter Riley. I am a veteran peacekeeper; once a one-armed, homeless, jobless father, now the first human ever to come into contact with the Precursors’ Cube on Mars, and proud owner of the most combative hamster in the galaxy. The artifact is what brought me to Sidus, a mysterious space station at the center of the galaxy. A dozen or so alien civilizations have also found their way here, seemingly to unite against a common enemy. Or common enemies. Honestly, we don’t know what it is that we need to face, for all the species on Sidus combined have barely explored a fraction of the galaxy. We can only guess at what other secrets are held by that dark, obscure expanse. It does hold something, that’s for sure. Something sinister. And it’s up to me to find out what. After all, I am the first, the protector of my kind.

Leseprobe

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Raptorian Tukang Djualan

Chapter 1

Bonds Stronger Than Family Ties

Chapter 2

Underdog

Chapter 3

Citizen

Chapter 4

First Mission

Chapter 5

Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind

Chapter 6

Forewarned Is Forearmed

Chapter 7

The Fall

Chapter 8

Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

Chapter 9

On Last Legs

Chapter 10

The Indeterminate State

Chapter 11

The Spinner

Chapter 12

Here, Hold My Beer!

Chapter 13

The Seed

Chapter 14

The Mysterious Frigate

Interlude 1

Human Shan Yun

Chapter 15

Squeeze Him Dry

Chapter 16

From Rock Bottom

Chapter 17

The Triad

Chapter 18

The Dragon

Chapter 19

An Old Acquaintance

Chapter 20

The Institute

Chapter 21

The Agent

Chapter 22

The Divorce

Chapter 23

Ceres

Chapter 24

Protector of His Kind

About the Author

Dan Sugralinov

Protector of His Kind

SIDUS

Book#2

Magic Dome Books

Sidus

Book #2: Protector of His Kind

Copyright © Dan Sugralinov 2023

Illustrators © Sviatoslav Gerasimchuk, Rostislav Aksyonov 2023

Cover Design © Valentin Grunichev 2023

English translation copyright © Simon Hollingsworth, Joe Millward 2023

Proofreading: Scott Pearson

Copyediting: Hilary Doda

Published by Magic Dome Books, 2023

Anschrift: Podkovářská 933/3, Vysočany, 190 00

Praha 9 Czech Republic IC: 28203127

All Rights Reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the shop and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

New and upcoming releases from

Magic Dome Books!

If you like our books and want to keep reading, download our FREE Publisher’s Catalog, a must-read for any LitRPG fan which lists some of the finest works in the genre:

Tales of Wonder and Adventure: The Best of LitRPG, Fantasy and Sci-Fi (Publisher’s Catalog)

Acknowledgements

From an early age, I’ve been fascinated with imagining the future of humanity and the existence of life amidst our vast expanse of cosmic space. When selecting books, movies or games, I frequently turned to the science fiction genre and over time, this interest evolved into a grander dream: to create a futuristic world with unique characters, stories and games.

The ‘Sidus’ universe (taken from the Latin for “constellation” and “star”) will immerse you in a captivating world of high technology and take you on adventures with our beloved hero, Carter. In this story, you will encounter numerous mysteries and experience a wide range of incredible emotions. The future is already here!

I would like to express my gratitude to my partners: Roman Povolotski, Dmitry Andreev, Dzhenan Ramchilovich and Artem Pachev for their hard work, dedication and for the incredible flow of ideas that they generated.

A special thanks to my sister, Sasha Khomenko, for her assistance in choosing the name of our universe.

Also, special thanks to Maxim Vavaev and his team of talented artists for their support since the very inception of our project!

And to my wife, Irina Khomenko, for providing me with support and positive energy in everything.

I hope that our series of books will evoke many pleasant emotions in you!

Dan Khomenko

Co-owner and CEO of the Sidus Heroes gaming project

Prologue

Raptorian Tukang Djualan

SIDUS HAD ACCEPTED and initiated the native species of twelve civilizations, but only six were represented on the Supreme Council. There were four raptorians, four voltrones, two ogyas, a da’ari, a kur’lyk, and a naotu. The latter two species had only received the votes they needed because of an intra-planetary crisis on Kshass, the ogyas’ home planet, which had led to two potential council members withdrawing their names from the election and heading home at the last minute.

The Council seldom met in full complement, and then only on very important occasions, such as when deciding whether or not to aid the dying civilization of Xenna. Today, however, only six members were present, one representative of each race.

The Mind had created a meeting sphere specifically for the Supreme Council. Completely impenetrable to any form of radiation, it looked like an enormous black ball from the outside. Inside, however, there were six spots designed for the representatives of the different species—a mix of various chairs, ponds, and roosts.

Today the great master multiplier, Tukang Djualan, was representing the raptorian contingent on the Council. Concluding their regular report on the latest conflict within the financial circles on Sidus, they returned to their seat.

“Thank you, Councilor,” Council Chairman Voltrone Slahfiir said. “The next item is the strange human ship that arrived here three hectoticks ago. As I recall, it was an intra-system passenger liner without a hyperdrive, originally travelling on a course from Earth to the Solar System’s Asteroid Belt. It was hijacked en route by a group of armed thugs, who were in turn repulsed by a resistance group led by Human Carter Riley. During the chaos, the liner allegedly entered the hyperleap zone of another shuttle and ended up here on Sidus. The other shuttle disappeared and never made it here. All the passengers on the liner, about a thousand in total, successfully completed initiation by the Mind, after which...”

Tukang Djualan found the voltrone’s voice decidedly irritating. It wasn’t just because their sound receptors were underdeveloped, as with all raptorians, or that the mod-amplifiers made the voltrone’s already-crackling speech screech—this was something all natives of the Raptorian Empire had come to terms with long ago. The memory of the Thunderstorm War, or the so-called First Contact War, however, still pained those who had been involved.

Councilor Djualan had seen that war. About a hundred years earlier, the raptorians, driven by their eternal curiosity, had been exploring their home system in the Scorpio Constellation and stumbled upon a wormhole. It was a phenomenon later proven to be impossibly rare, even unique, for, despite the considerable efforts of the intelligent species of Sidus, no other wormholes had been found since.

The wormhole had led the raptorian scouts into the home system of the voltrones, who had had no idea they were in the middle of a hyperspace transition. Both sides had had clear protocols for addressing first contact, notably the “shoot first, ask questions later” approach prevailing for both.

And that was how a long and brutal war had begun. Eventually, though, the raptorians had been defeated and forced to abandon their home planet of Sarisuru. Hiding from persecution in the caves of neighboring planets, the raptorians had found the Precursors’ Artifact, passed its tests, and consequently discovered Sidus. They had returned from there much stronger and triumphantly recaptured their native system.

Tukang Djualan intensely disliked recalling the humiliation and despair that had tormented their family in the years preceding their eventual victory. Despite that, it was impossible not to be reminded every time the raptorian saw or heard a voltrone.

On this occasion as well, Slahfiir’s voice triggered unpleasant memories. And along with them, a dull irritation at the recent arrival on Sidus of humans, a repulsive-looking race of intelligent beings, as far as the raptorians were concerned. Primates like them had dominated Sarisuru until raptorian intelligence had developed and they had discovered fire and tools. The primates had died out long ago, but an innate instinct still arose in the raptorian who saw one, like the feelings engendered in a human upon sighting a poisonous snake.

“How many times do we have to discuss that wretched liner?” Tukang Djualan grumbled. “Indeed, its appearance here is a mystery, but our initial hypothesis—as we have all now seen—turned out not to be correct. There was no one special on board that liner. All the humans who arrived on it were level-zero examples.”

“There is more, Honorable Raptorian Tukang Djualan,” said Ogya Vikiria, exhaling sparks of fire. “Complaints are flooding in about these humans, like lava during the eruption season.”

Tukang Djualan shifted their gaze from Ogya Vikiria to the others and noticed something rather curious. It was a seemingly trivial thing, a detail barely worthy of attention, but the master multiplier had made their way in life by noticing such innocuous things. On this occasion, the seemingly insignificant interesting detail was the change in expression on the face of Kur’lyk Anak Chekbi, the owner of the Rare Artifacts Shop, who was perched behind Vikiria.

Except the moment they turned their attention to them, the kur’lyk’s expression became unexpressive again, as if they had exhibited no emotion just a second before. But what emotion had it been? Kur’lyks, fiercely individualist, were few and far between on Sidus—there were just a thousand or so on this station, which had millions of inhabitants. As such, the Multiplier had not yet managed to study them quite as well as they had the da’ari. The tentacles on the kur’lyk’s face had fluttered and tensed a little before coming to rest. But what did that mean? Disagreement? Nervousness? Boredom? That didn’t seem to be correct, for the kur’lyk’s eyeballs were still rotating restlessly in different directions, as they normally did in such situations.

“We will certainly look into all complaints about the humans from that liner,” Voltrone Slahfiir reported. “At this moment, the official position of the Council is that all initiated humans from Earth are to be given the same rights and opportunities afforded to every citizen of Sidus—but also the same responsibilities.”

“They’re just extra mouths to feed,” Da’ari Sha’zer, interjected, hanging from a bar above so that their upturned face was level with everyone else. “Useless biomass. Stinking...”

“Councilor Da’ari Sha’zer!” the Council chairman said, stopping them short. “Humans are not represented on the Supreme Council, so they cannot defend themselves. And that is no reason to insult a civilization that has passed all tests of the Precursors! Humans are fully-fledged members of the Sidus Coalition.”

“Four by four kebahs to your nest, for you speak plainly of what is on your mind!” Tukang Djualan said, agreeing with the da’ari. “Is that not the most important virtue of every member of the Supreme Council? Is this not what the Sidus Mind most values? Councilor Da’ari Sha’zer merely voiced what we all already think about humans. Is that not the case?”

“I was speaking specifically about the passengers on the liner,” Sha’zer retorted, shaking their long neck side to side—though their leathery wings seemed to say the opposite, fluttering up and down. Tukang Djualan didn’t miss this gesture either. “We know about the past history of these passengers. They are the dregs of their society, individuals deemed useless on their home planet and sent out to swallow dust and die in asteroid mines. Just as we expected, most of these new so-called citizens—upon realizing that Sidus covers all their basic needs for free—have assumed a passive stance, playing a game of wait and see. Fewer than a quarter of them have taken on professional modifications and started looking for work. Even fewer have decided to try their luck in the Arena. The rest, with very few exceptions, are not the slightest bit interested in venturing out of the human cluster.

“They’d do better to rot in their cluster and not poke their noses into Nidum!” Ogya Vikiria exclaimed. “Hundreds of complaints in just two hectoticks!”

Nidum was the name given to the shared multidimensional space of the three cubes that the Mind had created, in which the Sidus species all converged. The spaceport, storage facilities, Supreme Council chamber, Arena, entertainment sectors, Galactic Market, stores, factories, laboratories, and so much more were all located in Nidum.

“Just listen,” Ogya Vikiria said, continuing their tirade. “Two humans, Juan Solomon and Joseph Matsukevich, have filed a joint complaint against Human Carter Riley, from which I now quote: ‘He cynically murdered our comrades, Human Gregor McLaughlin, Human Alfredo, and three other humans.’”

“Not the same Carter Riley who captained that liner?” Naotu Gi inquired.

Councilor Gi—faceless, shapeless, and mysterious, like all the naotu—was their race’s only representative on the Council. Even their voice sounded mysterious, like thousands of scales rubbing together before an acid storm. Tukang Djualan shuddered, like any raptorian would when detecting naotu speech. Their genetic memory still retained knowledge of ancient predators once living on Sarisuru who had cued their attacks with a similar sound.

“Humans complaining about humans!” Tukang Djualan emitted an indignant puff of brown smoke. “If things have come to this, I hope the Mind penalizes the guilty party severely with a negative ranking!”

“The Mind ignored the complaint,” Ogya Vikiria uttered, throwing up their arms. “I filed another complaint, requesting that the decision be justified. It turned out that the murders took place as part of a licensed battle with the Small Group Battle module.”

“You have really developed a dislike for this particular human,” Kur’lyk Anak Chekbi muttered under their breath, but they were heard.

“I am indifferent to humans,” Ogya Vikiria objected. “But this one specifically has been the subject of a great many complaints. Rehegua Ubama filed an official protest against Human Carter Riley for refusing to complete a licensed battle. Every last one of the battle’s mediators asked for their money back.”

Tukang Djualan shuddered inside. This Carter Riley had seriously let down poor Rehegua Ubama, an able hunter who had worked for the raptorian for many years. It was strange that this underling had said nothing, for now Ubama could be deprived of their license and the right to conduct battles outside the Sidus Arena.

“The next complaint,” Ogya Vikiria announced. “In their very first Arena battle, Da’aris Na’lek and Sha’fir went up against Human Carter Riley and, as they put it, were on the cusp of victory, only for the human to pull a dishonest trick and ultimately kill them both with his bare hands.”

Upon hearing this childish tittle-tattle, Voltrone Slahfiir, a staunch fan of the Arena, became indignant. “This complaint has been sucked out of nothing!”

Even the da’ari councilor, Sha’zer, refused to defend their own kind, agreeing with Slahfiir.

“I think that Ogya Vikiria wanted to show us something else,” Tukang Djualan responded. “This Human Carter Riley has clearly accumulated a host of enemies in a matter of a few hectoticks!”

“You are right,” Ogya Vikiria confirmed. “Even the worthless kakkerlaks have filed two complaints against him! A member of Human Carter Riley’s group tried to taser a working kakkerlak, while Human Carter Riley himself insulted the kakkerlaks working in their pleasure district.”

“And what did the Mind do in response?” Naotu Gi inquired skeptically.

“Ignored every last one—every single complaint against this human.” Ogya Vikiria folded their arms on their chest, apparently most upset with the Mind’s decision.

Immediately, the other Council members began babbling, rustling, and sputtering as they all gave vent to their discontent with the human race. As was their nature, Tukang Djualan also displayed no small amount of indignation but continued to study their fellow council members keenly nevertheless.

From the very beginning, the vast majority of the Council members had viewed the appearance of the human liner on Sidus in a distinctly negative light. Now, having been further agitated by the multitude of recent reports and complaints, they were actively calling for a review of the regulations governing residence on the station and contemplating placing new restrictions on human citizens’ privileges. Ordinary residents believed that free food and shelter were thanks to the Mind and its unlimited resources, but, of course, this was not the case. Tukang Djualan knew better than most that no resource was boundless, and there was a limit to acts of charity.

“Extra mouths to feed!” Ogya Vikiria complained. “Humans are nothing but trouble! True, we cannot expel the insolent newcomers, for that would violate the Code, but it is within the Council’s powers to review the social policy!”

This was another minor detail to note, but throughout the meeting, Kur’lyk Anak Chekbi had remained silent, as if the Mind’s decision about Carter Riley had come as no surprise. Tukang Djualan decided it was time to look more closely at the owner of the Rare Artifacts Shop. They would set their spies to work. They had eyes and nose slits in every sector of Nidum, after all.

“It’s high time we had the Mind disable automatic invulnerability!” Ogya Vikiria said, beginning the same old song. “That policy had its place at the dawn of Sidus exploration, when the wounds of the First Contact War were still fresh, but now that the station’s population is growing exponentially, we are spending an inordinate number of resources on citizens’ invulnerability! For a hundredth of that cost, we could set up a full-fledged security service! With resources thusly freed, we could raise the limit on the production of scout shuttles! There is a critical need for new land!”

The ogya representative raised the issue of disabling invulnerability on Sidus at every meeting, and each time the chairman of the Supreme Council, Voltrone Slahfiir, took the topic off the agenda. The absolute safety of the citizens of Sidus was a premise that defined the very nature of existence on the station. Sidus was synonymous with security and safety—period.

The ogyas, however, never abandoned their desire to deprive the citizens of that critical invulnerability. The conundrum was why they were so eager for such a change. Was it to save resources? In the name of the u’raptos, that was not a reason! It was mere window dressing for something else the ogyas had in mind. Tukang Djualan was used to the fact that a community of multiple alien species would always have desires beyond their own logical comprehension, but in this instance the question was simply too important to ignore.

“I have a question for Councilor Ogya Vikiria,” they said, rising. “I understand that, as usual, there will be no honest answer forthcoming, but I will ask all the same: Why are you ogyas so intent on this removal? Could it be because both ogya councilors have made their fortunes, one way or another, through sales of weapons and combat equipment? I would even go so far as to suggest that, under the current state of personal invulnerability on Sidus, you are losing customers.”

The owner of the Vikiria-Gronn company, producers of epic-quality combat equipment, did not seem in the least embarrassed by their accusation. In fact, quite to the contrary, they laughed in a way that made their red-hot plasma glow under their silicon skin.

“Councilor, Sidus is home to less than one percent of the population of clear space! My company’s primary focus is on those facing real-world dangers, not the sterile fights you find in the Arena.”

The ogya continued to rant and the others listened patiently, hoping that the speaker would not abuse the Council’s right to an in-depth answer. Tukang Djualan, hiding their boredom, thought that Vikiria had a point, in their own way. There were about four hundred billion star systems in the galaxy, and fewer than a thousand had been explored. Explored systems were “free space,” and there was very little of that. “Obscure space,” in contrast, was space that had not yet been explored, and any ventures directed there would be dangerous voyages into the unknown. Only a fool would believe that the unknown reaches were safe for colonization.

It was unfortunately unlikely that, in their lifetime, Tukang Djualan would be able to explore even a hundredth of the galaxy, especially without hyperleap technology. That was because calculating hyperleaps required data to already be present in the Precursors’ coordinate system. If no one from Sidus had been to a location, that point would not yet be included in the system. To make a leap without these coordinates was a fool’s errand. You would waste considerable computing power only to risk getting stuck in deep space, far from inhabited systems. Or worse—hitting a planet, a star, or even a black hole head-on.

Galactic exploration was a long process that required enormous effort and time. As a result, only those star systems nearest to Sidus had been surveyed, most often through the use of miniature scout robots. The farther away a system was, the more expensive it would be to send scouts. So investors were constantly in search of new planets close to Sidus, preferring to cut costs from their colonization or resource-extraction projects.

“Do you seriously believe that if we increased our market by a single percent, our revenue would increase substantially?” Ogya Vikiria inquired with a snide grin. “Then you would do well to increase your Intelligence, raptorian!”

The ogya thought of and delivered several more insults to provoke the raptorian. Tukang Djualan emitted puffs of purplish steam from their nasal slits and snapped their jaws, but they held back. It was Voltrone Slahfiir who defused the situation, striking the floor with a lightning bolt. They called for order, then, as chairman of the Council, temporarily muted interpersonal communications, giving both Vikiria and Tukang Djualan space to cool down.

“Councilor Vikiria, you are hereby given your first warning for personally insulting Councilor Tukang Djualan!” they bellowed. “Let’s not become distracted by such insignificant matters as complaints about a human who has only just arrived on Sidus! Personally, I believe we all have some dislike for the human race, for they have a predilection for breaking the rules. This is clearly some evolutionary defect of sorts. But, let me say again, the Mind has recognized the race, and so they are part of the Sidus Coalition. Accept it.”

Tukang Djualan reacted angrily, behaving in a way that they deemed to be the most appropriate for their purposes in this situation. The superior species, among whose number they included the ogyas and the voltrones, were superior because of their abilities to easily control their emotions.

“There is most definitely something wrong with those humans,” said Kur’lyk Anak Chekbi, who had been less active than usual during this meeting. “As the merchant with the highest ranking on Sidus, I personally select the rarest artifacts for my shop. Naturally, in my search for such items, I periodically visit my suppliers in the colonies and on the native worlds of nearly every race on Sidus. Note that I said nearly every race. Even the Kakkerlak Swarm always finds something to offer me in exchange for the latest modifications and rare resources. But what about the human world? What right do they have to close off the Solar System from us? And how, smash your shell to pieces, did they manage to achieve such a thing?”

The kur’lyk’s words reminded all Council members of another interstellar riddle, another associated with the humans. In recent times, the humans’ native Solar System had been closed off to all nonhuman sentient beings for hyperleaps from the outside. In other words, it wasn’t the system itself that was closed, but it was as though something unimaginably powerful had actively forbidden any hyperleaps to the human planet.

On one example of an earthbound ship, with just one sentient nonhuman onboard, the hyperdrives had failed, and the processors had expended computing resources for nothing. However, the moment the nonhuman left the ship, it had begun to function normally again.

Bizarre as such things might sound, even the humans themselves had no idea why this was happening. The Sidus Mind had no answers to this question, while those high-ranking humans whose consciousnesses had been scanned—not very legally, of course, and very secretively—mostly assumed that the ban on aliens in the Solar System was associated with clandestine actions of the government back on Earth.

“It is not clear how they managed to pull something like that off,” Tukang Djualan replied to the kur’lyk. “However, it is known that this blockade became active only recently. There are not many aware of this, but during the First Contact War it was a raptorian, Satong Nakam, who discovered the human civilization. They were a great bufo, a thinker and visionary, but they were forced to become a refugee like the rest of us. After the discovery of Sidus, bufo Satong Nakam equipped their shuttle with a hyperdrive and made a leap of faith, crash-landing in the humans’ system. Be they praised for their ingenuity, universal interpreter, and metabolism mod, for, once having penetrated the humans’ planetary information network, Satong Nakam invented a decentralized financial system in order to use the feeble computing power of the humans to return to Sidus.”

“I have heard that the humans still use it to this day,” Kur’lyk Anak Chekbi remarked. “On par with Sidus coins.”

“So it is,” Tukang Djualan agreed, emitting a greenish steam. “I fear that we are still to discover the humans’ true capabilities. It is true that they are currently the most backward of all the Sidus species. Judge this for yourselves: Not counting their native Earth, they have merely a couple of underdeveloped colonies under primitive domes and a few pathetic-looking stations in their system. The few planets they occupy in the Kratz and Spica Systems are not full-fledged human colonies either. They bought up the rights to them, resource extraction has begun, and the combined population of those planets is less than a thousand. More of them came here on that ill-fated liner than are in those systems.”

“Their technologies are far inferior to ours,” Ogya Vikiria gloated. “Their flesh is extremely vulnerable. Even the range of temperatures they find comfortable is terribly narrow.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Tukang Djualan replied. “And yet their home system is completely immune to all intrusions from outside.”

“I am sure it comes down to some anomaly or other,” Naotu Gi objected. “There are no existing technologies that could scramble a hyperdrive simply by estimating that a nearby biomass contains nonhuman DNA. It defies logic! The Mind is already working on a solution to this problem.”

The raptorian lowered their gaze, concealing their annoyance. Any randomness, mystery, or coincidence in the universe signaled potential danger. Tukang Djualan had always been more attuned to the subtleties of universal patterns than most, valuing order and predictability. This innate sensitivity made him wary of unpredicted variables, especially from species seen as inferior. On the other hand, the other councilors, entrenched in their pride and bias, were quick to dismiss any notion that went against their ingrained beliefs. And as far as the other councilors were apparently concerned, it was humiliating for an ogya, voltrone, da’ari, and kur’lyk to admit that humans were in any way superior to them. That was simply out of the question. It must just have been an anomaly.

“Councilors, I think we have devoted enough time to the humans,” Voltrone Slahfiir announced. “There are two other items on today’s agenda, and I suggest we move on to consider them.”

The first item concerned the connection of Xenna to the Sidus Gateway. By rule, as colonies developed, they could apply to the Council to connect their world directly to the hyperspace gateway, making all interplanetary logistics two orders of magnitude cheaper. Xenna, however, was not a colony but the native world of the xennian race, an intelligent species with physiology similar to humans. The planet had suffered a terrible fate about eighty-three average galactic years ago, when it collided with an asteroid. The only survivors were those who had been living on an orbital station at the time or had managed to scramble from the planet’s surface at the last minute.

These survivors had found the Precursors’ Cube on a neighboring planet, passed all the tests, and made contact with the Supreme Council. However, not a single xennian had yet reached Sidus, so the race was not officially listed in the Code.

Even the question of constructing the hyperspace gateway that would connect Xenna to Sidus had been raised not by xennians but by one of the councilors. The reason for it was very simple: following the catastrophe, unique and valuable resources had appeared on the planet. Construction of the gateway would pay for itself reasonably swiftly when those resources were acquired. All the same, Tukang Djualan had voted against the proposal, as had two other councilors. The planet was now dangerous even for the xennians themselves, thanks to abnormal mutagens that caused irreversible and often fatal changes in the body of any living creature. Bringing those mutagens to Sidus was the last thing anyone needed.

Da’ari Sha’zer and Ogya Vikiria, who had voted in favor of connecting the gateway, remained in a minority.

Just as it had been at previous meetings, the final agenda item was about space pirates. The planet Ingus, in the Tiru System, which almost everyone called the “Bazaar,” was a haven for all those rejected by Sidus. It went without saying that the outcasts—a group made up of members of many species—had no warm feelings toward the station’s citizens. Pirates raided inhabited worlds, boarded and hijacked cargo vessels, and levied “peace taxes” on colonies only to burn them to the ground if they refused to pay.

“It is not the Council’s job to fight pirates and protect colonized worlds,” Tukang Djualan reminded everyone. “Colonies and trading corporations must consider those risks, invest in their own defensive orbital stations, and hire security vessels.”

Da’ari Sha’zer, who had made a career as a space admiral back in their own world, dreamed about having a fleet at their disposal again, this time on Sidus. It was after more disturbing news had come from the outer margins that they had raised the issue of resisting the pirates. In response, the Council chairman had proposed that the Council consider the creation of a United Fleet of the Sidus Coalition, to be financed not only by the Council but with additional subsidies from the colonies. Unexpectedly, the proposal had been accepted.

“The colonies pay a ‘peace tax’ to the pirates as it is,” Voltrone Slahfiir said, returning their verdict. “Better they pay Sidus, and we will protect them. Let’s vote.”

Each councilor now saw two options on their interfaces: “for” and “against.” Prudent in everything they did, Tukang Djualan was always against any actions associated with the expansion of Sidus’s responsibilities. The Supreme Council, they were of firm opinion, should be responsible for Sidus alone, while the colonies should sort themselves out. Otherwise, then what? Today it was their own fleet; tomorrow, their own army. It would all end with a major war against any colonies that wished for a little more independence.

The Supreme Council essentially controlled everything that took place on Sidus already: where to invest resources and at what price to buy them; where to open the hyperspace gateway; what privileges to grant citizens and which to remove. In return for that power, they never adopted policies without consideration and debate, and the councilors were all answerable to the citizens who had elected them. Wrong decisions had consequences. Citizens could always pass a motion of no confidence in a councilor, or the Mind could punish one with a drop in their ranking. These checks and balances were probably why the Supreme Council never interfered in matters outside of Sidus.

Today, however, something had changed. To the raptorian’s amazement, everyone but them voted in favor of and accepted the proposal of Da’ari Sha’zer. Sha’zer didn’t even try to hide their jubilation, taking flight beneath the sphere’s dome.

The chairman instantly pounced on the sole dissenting voice by saying, “I propose that Councilor Tukang Djualan be made responsible for implementation of this project, as they are the least-interested party. Let us vote on the appointment.”

“What?” the raptorian said incredulously, but they were too late. Their nomination was approved by a majority vote.

The acidic blood of the master multiplier boiled, yet they continued to hide their emotions and thanked the councilors for placing the Council’s trust in them. It wasn’t that they felt the burden of this responsibility—it was the timing. The entire raptorian sector on Sidus was currently waiting for the arrival of the great bufo, Bidjak Djakhat, leader of one of the sixteen Great Houses of Sarisuru, in only five hectoticks. Tukang Djualan had to host this grand guest because the House of Djakhat had no official representation on Sidus. Nor did it conduct any affairs on the station. Apart, that is, from actively sending its youngsters to learn the wisdom of fighting aliens in the Arena, considered an important stage of their preparation for adulthood. Even with the full support of their subordinates, aides, and family, Tukang Djualan found themselves stretched thin. Balancing the monumental task of assembling the United Fleet of the Sidus Coalition with hosting a distinguished guest demanded their utmost attention and focus.

The final item on the meeting’s agenda was brought up by Kur’lyk Anak Chekbi. Stiffening their facial tentacles, they requested the councilors’ attention. But they did not speak straightaway, as if they were hesitant to share their thoughts at all.

“Councilors, please record the latest incident to be linked with the yuyai. On this occasion, four humans have been kidnapped. Notably, the missing were all members of Human Carter Riley’s group, the complaints against whom we have already discussed. I learned of this incident from Human Carter Riley himself, after which I submitted a request to the Mind. As before, the kidnapping was performed by a pair of yuyai, who had arrived a hectotick before the incident.”

“It is high time that Sidus was closed to uninitiated species!” Ogya Vikiria said, once again saddling their favorite chimaru. “If the Council persists in rejecting my initiatives to disable invulnerability, even for the sake of the security of our very own citizens, it really must take note of this problem!”

“That is enough populism for today, Councilor Ogya Vikiria,” Voltrone Slahfiir replied with an angry crackle of lightning bolts. “In the last average year, only four have disappeared, not counting these humans. That makes a total of eight, while the station’s unprotected pocket dimensions have resulted in the loss of two orders of magnitude more sentients. Not only that, but we don’t know whether these were abductions or voluntary cooperation. Currently, according to the Mind’s records, all those who had disappeared previously—a da’ari, a kur’lyk, and two raptorians—left the station without resistance.”

“But all of them left on a yuyai shuttle?” Ogya Vikiria asked.

“All of them.”

“As did the four humans,” Kur’lyk Anak Chekbi, added. “Although I am not acquainted with those who disappeared, my compatriot Tenzin Kongbu, like me, is a merchant and is often away from Sidus. Perhaps the ‘missing’ simply struck up a partnership with the yuyai? And in that case, then perhaps the others who disappeared also had their reasons for flying off with the yuyai.”

The meeting would have come to an end wIth that, but Tukang Djualan’s instincts rebelled. As a child, it had been foretold that they would have a future as a great bufo, and so the master multiplier listened to their inner voice. Something in that voice was now making them object, even though they were anxious to be done with the Council. They wanted nothing more than to return home to contemplate their “inner self.”

“And yet we cannot leave this matter unattended,” Tukang Djualan said, instead. “I propose that if there are any further disappearances, we automatically offer a Supreme Council assignment to anyone who requests the Mind’s assistance with this matter. I think that four coins would be sufficient reward for anyone who brings us useful information on these abductions or on the yuyai.”

The now-weary councilors passed this proposal unanimously.

Chapter 1

Bonds Stronger Than Family Ties

“CARTER, WHY TAKE such a long break before the final fight?” Beverly Sinclair wondered out loud. “Six ticks! Nobody’s tired—why not let us fight, then let us go!” Turning to Chrissy, who was sitting in front of me, she nodded. “Tell me I’m wrong, friend.”

“I’m not your friend,” Chrissy replied with a shrug.

It was apparent that the hour-and-a-half wait had been a nerve-wracking experience for her, too, as Beverly frowned, moaned, paced back and forth, hovered in front of me, and demanded that Chrissy back her up. It would have been better to be thrown straight back into battle than to listen to Beverly Sinclair whine.

In short, the break before the final battle of the tournament had come at a bad time. Apparently done with complaining for the moment, Beverly switched her attention to talking about our opponents in the final.

“An ogya, a raptorian, and a voltrone. A killer combination. And according to the Arena’s battle stats, they have a top-tier set of equipment,” she announced in a grave voice.

“Based on those same stats, a team of three humans loses almost every time,” I replied wearily. “But we haven’t lost in fifteen fights, and we’ve made it to the final.”

“But all three of them are level five! With the best equipment and killer guns!” Beverly exclaimed, almost in tears. “And you and Chrissy are both level zeros. We don’t stand a chance against the Supremos!”

I turned to Chrissy. She winked at me and grinned. The day before, when the odds in regular bouts had been close to zero, Beverly had been much calmer. Sure, she’d complained at us, but she hadn’t been panicking like she was now. But now that the rewards, big even for her, were so close—just one last victory away—she was freaking out.

And yet Chrissy and I were calm. We didn’t know what the awards for second place would be, but we already had a rough idea of what prize money we could expect. It would be more than enough to pay the Mind for the coordinates to which the yuyai starship had made its leap with our friends aboard. And maybe if we sold some of our prizes, too, we would have enough to charter a ship to get us there.

Besides, even if we didn’t have enough, tournaments were held every day. A winner was no longer allowed to compete in the same tournament in the same season, but there was no such restriction on the losing teams.

“If I don’t repay my debt to Raptorian Tukang Djualan today, I’m screwed,” Beverly admitted after a long pause. “I know you think that’s just my problem, but the truth is that it’s now your problem too.”

I was incredulous and said nothing for several seconds, trying to process that information. Finally, though, I couldn’t hold back any longer, and I barked, “What? What did you say?”

“I went to see them yesterday. Right after we separated. I promised them I’d pay back the principal debt, and if I could, the interest too. If I can’t, I’ll have to give them everything I own, and then they’ll send me off to mine nultillium and work off my debt until the day I die. That day will come soon too. People in those mines die quickly, even with a universal metabolism mod and high Adaptability. It’s an evil substance, nultillium.”

“But what does that have to do with us?” Chrissy snorted.

“Officially, nothing. But you don’t know Tukang. They’ve been on the Sidus Supreme Council for years! They have everything sewn up, understand? This is not some primitive yuyai. Tukang Djualan has one of the most powerful Great Houses of Sarisuru backing them up, and they aren’t afraid of anything. They’re aware that we’re on the same team, and raptorians believe that team battles in the Arena form bonds stronger than family ties. As far as they’re concerned, you’re now my family. Naturally, if I can’t repay my debt, they’ll be coming after you.”

“They can go to hell,” I breathed, calming down. “What are they going to do to us?”

Beverly rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, Carter, believe me, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Tukang Djualan. They don’t give a damn about the Mind. Their people will simply drag you into a pocket dimension and beat everything they need out of you. Why do you think I still have a positive rating? It’s because that loan shark lends money on trust, since no one would ever think of screwing them over.”

“You had it coming,” Chrissy snorted. “Relax, they won’t do anything to you if there’s no contract. And certainly not to us, because we haven’t taken any money from them. I think you’re just baiting us, you drama queen, to get us pumped up for the final battle.”

I could really feel the rage and anger overwhelming Beverly in the moment, but she kept herself in check. With a deep breath, she let out a sigh and said calmly, “I warned you. I’m going for a walk so I don’t boil over.”

Rising from her chair, she left the rest area and disappeared into the crowd. It wouldn’t matter if she didn’t return promptly, as the Arena Master could pull her into the battlefield from anywhere in its domain.

There was still plenty of time until the final, and Chrissy leaned back in her armchair, covering her eyes. I did the same to gather my thoughts and analyze our previous tournament battles.

The first round, of course, had been the key, where I gained the Gardisto-series sentinel, created by the ancient rehegua. From its description, I understood there were very few of these sentinels left and the only surviving specimens had been donated to Sidus. All Gardisto sentinels were made of an “intelligent alloy.” I didn’t know how precisely the material had been rendered intelligent, but it could take any shape easily and used relic radiation as its energy source. Outside the Arena, I kept the sentinel in its own pocket dimension, sending it there from the control bracelet.

The ancient rehegua who created the sentinel had known about the intricacies of space way back when we humans were still hunting mammoths. Things change, though. Both rehegua and our people—who the aliens simply called “humans,” because that’s how the Linguist, the Pilot, and the Navigator had presented our race—now occupy the same position on Sidus. We appear to be equals in terms of rights and privileges, but that’s only on paper.

Despite the aliens’ outwardly amiable disposition and responsive approach to our arrival, I had a sense that they actually felt ill will toward us—distrust at best, but more likely contempt and disgust. Perhaps this was because it was blindingly obvious that we were newcomers with empty pockets.

All that had made it all the more satisfying to knock our arrogant rivals off their pedestals. With the Gardisto on our side, it wasn’t hard. Every time I left the battlefield, I mentally thanked good fortune for such a gift. Incidentally, I should’ve been thanking Tiger, the hamster, as well, since he’d been the one who’d disabled the sentinel’s cannon, giving me the chance to get to it. Not only that, but if it hadn’t been for the hamster, I would have shot at the Gardisto from a distance and probably never would have noticed the miniature control cube.

Unfortunately, none of us had received any experience or ranking points for that or any subsequent fights, so I had no idea how the Master had rated Tiger’s feat. Beverly had explained that all awards would be calculated based on the team’s final position at the tournament’s conclusion.

The next eight battles had all gone very smoothly. My new pet, Gardisto—who had made the girls very excited—would rush toward the enemies in the first second of battle, flooding them with three barrels of dark energy. Even if they managed to scatter in different directions, we would simply catch them all one by one. It had made no difference who we fought, as opponents of any species had fallen equally quickly under the sentinel’s streams of blue flame.

It was only in the tenth battle that the Gardisto had finally faced a real challenge. The opposing team’s leader, a level-five rehegua, fired a volley from a cannon of a type I hadn’t encountered before. The sentinel shimmered in a pink-and-purple web of lightning bolts, slowed right down, and not only started moving like a tortoise but reloaded much more slowly than before. The rehegua’s raptorian and kur’lyk partners outclassed Beverly, and without us being able to cover it, the Gardisto was in trouble. We still managed to turn the tide eventually.

First, my Bluff and Damage Attractor combat mods helped me cover the girls without consequences for myself. Thanks to the first mod, I could replace myself with an identical clone for six seconds, and with the second, I could attract enemy attacks to myself.

Second, I was saved by the Precursors’ Shield, living armor that absorbed damage. I had set it to disable itself after absorbing a set amount of damage, however, to hide its true power.

Third, the stun debuff that hit the sentinel lasted less than a minute. In that time, we managed to nullify the rehegua’s defense mod and halve their total health. Once it recovered, the Gardisto finished the enemy team off without allowing itself to be stunned again. That concluded the battle.

The eleventh battle was memorable because the opponents, three raptorians, were aided by six pets at once. When the Gardisto flooded them with dark energy at the beginning of the battle, they began to retreat, still shooting back. Defense mods helped them through the sentinel’s first attack, while for the second they used powerfully vented toadwings. Little dragons poured greenish fire on their wounded owners, which healed them completely in a matter of seconds.

It took too long for us to realize what was happening, because the sentinel was blocking our view. And by the time we understood, the enemy’s remaining pets had surrounded us. We would have been in serious trouble if it wasn’t for the Bluff. I activated it, taking the brunt of the damage, while helping my teammates finish off a variety of monsters, including a three-meter-long snake on six legs, an odd-looking droid that attacked me with an energy spear, and a disgusting flat sluglike creature that I didn’t see until the second it gained volume and enveloped my leg. I lost my leg immediately but managed to finish the creature off before restoring my limb as Bluff triggered, resetting my injuries.

Once we destroyed the toadwings, our troubles were over. The Gardisto, badly damaged but still functioning, helped us finish off our opponents.

After that battle, I asked Beverly how many pets we could bring with us into the Arena. She told me there was no limit, but there was little point in bringing in an entire menagerie because the combat experience award would be divided among all of them. It would be better to pump up one or two rather than spread out the experience points between many of them.

The last three battles before the final were easier than the two before them. The opposing teams were no walk in the park, don’t get me wrong. They were composed of fighters of different species of levels four and five, with excellent equipment, decent mods, and good weapons. However, all those advantages paled into insignificance when faced with the might of the Gardisto. The sentinel’s attacks rapidly nullified their defense mods, its mobility was as good as theirs, and it was always positioned on the battlefield to block the enemy line of fire. Only once, in the semifinal, did the opposing team succeed in killing the sentinel, but by that time there were only two of them left, and they were so battle-scarred that finishing them off presented no big problem.

Given all that, Beverly’s panic about the so-called Supremos, our opponents in the final—the “killer combo” of an ogya, a raptorian, and a voltrone—even with their high-value equipment, was not something that I could empathize with. So what if they were level five? The Gardisto was a level nine!

No sooner had I thought that, however, then I sensed someone had appeared by my side. Opening my eyes, I saw our opponents standing before me, the full team of those Supremos. One of them shielded us with a force field, completely cutting off all sound from the outside.

“Four by four kebahs to your day, Human Carter Riley!” the captain of the Supremos, Raptorian Pegul’Yankvat, said in greeting. “Much envy darkened the hearts of die-hard Arena fans when you managed to get your hands on the sentinel of the ancient rehegua!”

“Pets should be banned from battle if they exceed the levels of the fighters themselves!” Ogya Asarikavia, exclaimed, indignantly exhaling flames. “If it weren’t for the sentinel, you would have gone out in the first battle!”

“Who am I to argue with the Master?” I shrugged. “Or with the Mind? I am just a speck of dust on the sole of eternity.”

All three of our final opponents stood there, stunned for a while, trying to comprehend what I had said. Finally, the previously silent Voltrone Sterkstayer spoke. “And the ancient rehegua sentinel would not have been helpful to you, human, if we had made it our objective to win. Three battles ago, assuming that you Tigers would somehow make it to the final, we began thinking about our strategy to combat the sentinel.”

“And how’s that going for you?” Chrissy inquired with a sneer.

“The sentinel is not fully subordinate to Human Carter Riley,” the voltrone replied. “When it receives a command, it obeys and simultaneously ignores all other potential targets. One of us would distract it and stand under the protection of a legendary shield while the other two would destroy your weak team.”

I smiled inside. The Gardisto was fully controllable but operated autonomously. I could not order it directly to attack one opponent or another, for it understood my thoughts only in general terms. It operated specifically as a sentinel, guarding its master and attacking whoever was primarily attacking me. And since using the Damage Attractor meant that everyone would attack me, the Gardisto would then rank my opponents in terms of danger posed and eliminate them in that specific order. In the end, it meant that whoever they planned to set against the sentinel would be the least dangerous to me, and the sentinel would therefore ignore them.

It would have been foolish to explain all that to our opponents, so I merely threw my arms up in the air. “That’s probably a decent strategy.”

“It really is,” Raptorian Pegul’Yankvat growled. “Not only that, but each of us have ion-pulse guns.”

Their claim sounded triumphant, as if this superweapon would decide the outcome of any battle. I pretended to understand, instead resolving to look into the matter more closely after our conversation. “A compelling argument, respected Raptorian Pegul’Yankvat. Now that I know your strategy, however, I question why you told me about it before the battle.”

“We are not going to fight at full strength,” they replied. “We wanted to inform you straightaway, human, so that after the battle you didn’t think you had won fairly. A too-high opinion of oneself can destroy anyone, and it was our duty to warn you.”

“Now, there’s luck!” Beverly exclaimed. It turned out she had been standing right behind me, listening. “So, what’s your actual plan? Wait, I get it. You’re farmers, aren’t you? You farm tournaments but never plan to win them till the end of a season so that you don’t lose your eligibility. Listen, since you’re so tough, why would you want to sit at the bottom of the league? You’re the Supremos! You would get promoted to the next division and be sent to fight against equals! No, wait a minute, don’t answer that—I get it. You’re afraid of fighting against your equals, aren’t you? They’d turn you into lowlifes in no time. Hah!”

“I find Human Beverly Sinclair to be extremely irritating,” Voltrone Sterkstayer said, crackling with lightning bolts. “Colleagues, I propose we change the plan: do away with our farming in this division and move on to the next.”

“Agreed,” Raptorian Pegul’Yankvat said, emitting a cloud of red steam.

“I agree,” Ogya Asarikavia, said, releasing a tongue of flame from their mouth.

“I was unwise to reveal our strategy, Human Carter Riley,” the voltrone said. “But it won’t help you. Your best course of action will be not to show up to the battle. You’ll avoid the disgrace if you do.”

The Supremos moved off into the crowd of fans, fully engaged in a discussion of the upcoming fight as they walked. Realizing what she had done, Beverly went pale, made a move as if to run after them, but then changed her mind and waved her hand resignedly. “What is wrong with me? I had the championship in the bag!”

Meanwhile, Chrissy had unpacked the sandwiches and was passing them around. I took a bite of a full half of a sandwich, but I didn’t enjoy it at all.

Beverly, though, was now glowing. She touched me on the shoulder and whispered conspiratorially, “Carter, they’ve got attitude because they have no real competition in the thirteenth division. Catch my drift?”

“What?”

“We need to bet on our victory! If you’re afraid, lend me a coin! Our odds of winning are six to one!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Not only that, but we would have had the victory in our pockets if you hadn’t rubbed that voltrone the wrong way!”

“So, you’re not confident, is that what you’re saying? In that case, let’s bet on us losing!”

I choked on my sandwich and coughed. Beverly was always up to something, and with every minute that passed I wanted her gone more and more, ideally never to see her again. Her charm had fully worn off, and her words had lost their magic. I had never met anyone who was such a pain in the butt.

“No!” I had to shout because Beverly had begun pressing her body against mine, and Chrissy, sitting across from me, was readying her glare to burn two holes right through us.

“Suit yourself.” Beverly withdrew and turned to Christina. “Chrissy, honey, remember when you said you had three hundred phoenixes?”

“I don’t remember any such thing. Leave me alone!” Chrissy demonstratively turned away.

Beverly gave a heavy sigh, sat back in her chair, and pouted. The two of them fell silent, and I was finally able to think about tactics for the next battles—not that I got far with my ideas, as an enormous figure soon came into view. They stopped between Beverly and me, and I looked up to find it was the level-fifteen warrior Hang, who, only a couple of days before, had told Chrissy and me how to get the Mind’s help to find our missing friends.

“So, Lexa, you found someone to do a number on, did you?” Hang asked merrily.

I turned my head, trying to figure out who he was talking to, and to my surprise, it was Beverly who replied. With a glower on her face, she hissed, “Not here!”

The warrior turned around, glanced at Chrissy and me, and nodded. “Quite a meeting you had there, Captain Riley. It’s a shame I didn’t warn you not to deal with this one under any circumstances.” Saying that, he rolled his head in Beverly’s direction. “To my knowledge, everyone who has ever been foolish enough to have dealings with Lexa has ended up regretting it.”

Who the hell was this “Lexa”? The profile over my teammate’s head gave her name as “Beverly Sinclair.”

“I hope she treats you a little better,” Hang added. There was no malice or sarcasm in his voice; it was more like... paternal disappointment. Beverly couldn’t possibly have been his daughter, could she?

“We know that she’s a con artist and a cheat,” I replied, “but Beverly has done very well for us in Arena battles. If it weren’t for her help, we’d have been in big trouble.”

“We made it to the final,” Chrissy confirmed.

“Oh, she’s a decent fighter, for sure.” Hang grinned. “In any event, I’d like to wish you all the best in the final bout, guys. Don’t you give Earth a bad name, you hear me?”

He patted me on the shoulder, nodded to Christina, and then walked off, saying as he went, “It’s a pity I can’t tell Alex about you. It looks like he was the only one capable of keeping you in line.”

“Don’t you dare speak of him!” Beverly shrieked, but Hang had already disappeared into the crowd.

We turned to stare at her.

“Le-e-exa?” Chrissy said. “And who is this ‘Alex’? Did you steal something from him too?”

“Piss off!” Beverly hissed, and shielded herself from us with the hamster cage.

Tiger didn’t seem to mind, getting off his wheel and standing on his hind legs in his cage to see what was going on. Beverly gave us a furious catlike stare, and we realized quickly that it would be best not to bring up the subject again, at least for the time being. The last thing we needed was to lose a member of the team right before the final bout. Besides, any doubt in our minds during the fight could prove fatal.

Putting the incident out of my mind, I returned to my interrupted thoughts on best tactics for our upcoming battle with the Supremos. Three powerful opponents with epic equipment and defense mods of the same level—that meant that even the Gardisto wouldn’t be able to penetrate their shields in a single attack.

Not only that, but they had ion-pulse guns. After viewing the auction to see what those were, I recognized the same epic weapon that the rehegua had used to slow down my sentinel in the tenth round. My mood immediately worsened, and the reason for Raptorian Pegul’Yankvat’s triumphant tone became clear. A slowed-down Gardisto would be of no help to us, and left alone in a direct confrontation with our more powerful opponents, we stood no chance.

What were we to do?

Dragging a chair behind me, I sat down between the two women. “All right, let’s think about this. I propose we put all grudges aside right now, along with requests to bet our last coins. The important thing now is to win.”

“Oh, come on, Carter!” Chrissy exclaimed. “Sure, I want to win, too, but you said yourself that there’s no tragedy in losing. Do you really think her creditor’s going to take us on?”

“Even if they don’t, why not take a stab at winning the thing? We’ll be helping not only Beverly but our friends as well. We don’t know how much it’ll cost us to charter the ship we’ll have to use to go looking for them.”

Beverly looked at me gratefully and nodded. Chrissy became more serious.

I reminded them of our opponents’ words. “Without the sentinel, we’ll be in trouble. And I have no idea how we’re going to protect it from the ion-pulse guns. Perhaps there are defense mods for pets?”

Each of us opened the game store and the auction, frantically trying to find something to counter ion damage, but this last gasp proved to be in vain, because there was almost no time left for preparation. I hastily scrolled through the list of combat modifications in the hope of finding something, but I didn’t even have time to read the lines of tiny text.

At the last moment, buried in a succession of gray, white, and green names, the combat modification Vengeance caught my eye. Then it struck me—that was a mod of rare quality!

The Arena Master’s voice in my head warned me that only five seconds remained before we’d be transferred to the battle. Then four.

I acted on autopilot more than anything. All items with a purchase price higher than the total in my wallet were grayed out. The blue line was juicy and radiant, which meant I could afford it.

Moments before the world faded away and then reappeared, I purchased and activated a rare combat mod.