Prologue
Sometimes, when we look at the stars, it feels as though we are not alone in this boundless world. That somewhere out there exist civilizations that have managed to conquer every disease and put an end to wars forever. And we dream that one day they will come to us and help fix our mistakes.
Alas, reality is completely different.
Yes, there are good people in space, such as the Coalition of Planets, or individual worlds like Avalice.
Ah, Avalice… truly an astonishing place. A true symbol of friendly relations between three superpowers, although at times even this balance can be shaken…
Alright, let’s step away from politics and take a look at the nature of this planet.
Crystal-clear rivers, amazing trees of sometimes bizarre shapes, crystalline growths jutting out of the ground and shimmering in the sunlight… and ptoriks.
Yeah… it’s best not to take a stroll along the edge of the forest unless you want to get hit in the head by a mortar strike.
Still, this place is home to very friendly and peaceful inhabitants who will gladly welcome you as an honored guest and show you their traditions of hospitality. Although, considering the recent alien invasion, they may no longer be as happy to see you, and some lovers of wearing red scarves might be quite eager to take a closer look at you… and not only from the outside.
Yeah… it’s best not to wander along the forest’s edge too often unless you want to get hit in the head by a mortar strike.
Still, this place is home to very friendly and peaceful inhabitants who will gladly welcome you as an honored guest and show you their traditions of hospitality. Although, considering the recent alien invasion, they may no longer be as happy to see you, and some lovers of wearing red scarves might be quite eager to take a closer look at you… and not only from the outside.
Yeah… even such a wonderful place is not without its flaws.
Now imagine a small, you could even say dwarf black hole, around which an asteroid revolves in a stable orbit at a distance of several light-years.
No one would dare settle near this all-devouring black mass that distorts space itself. It is the perfect place to hide from the galactic government and engage in illegal activities.
And so the major figures of the criminal underworld decided, creating here one of the largest black markets in the entire galaxy.
Rumors of this place spread quickly and just as quickly reached the Coalition. However, they could do nothing about it: the territory turned out to be neutral, and it was constantly patrolled by pirate spacecraft. The moment the Coalition sent frigates or battleships, forces from all across the surrounding area would immediately swarm them.
In the end, the Coalition was forced to accept it, limiting itself to surveillance in order to at least partially control the illegal trade around the asteroid.
The asteroid itself was nicknamed the “Black Star.” Besides illegal trade, underground fights are held here — not only one of the main entertainments of this godless place, but also a way to rise through the local hierarchy.
Every dealer has their own fighter: either someone fighting under contract, or someone bought as a slave.
And it is about one such slave that our story will be.
———————————————————
Dirty streets of the asteroid’s third level. Everywhere dust, filth, walls stained with vomit or urine. Every passerby already looks suspicious just by appearance. Shop stalls can’t boast anything attractive in their goods. Only a few could actually be considered something worthwhile.
Narrow alleys lead either to the back entrance of a building or down to a lower basement level. If the lower level is large enough, it could be used to set up a ring and stands and hold fights with betting.
And it is exactly in one of such basements that a fight is being prepared.
The arena “Wooden Cobblestone” — a hexagonal arena, its walls made of wooden planks, with a fence just over a meter high.
The ground of the arena is covered with sand. In the sand, one could see dried blood stains and scattered cracked teeth. Clearly, more than one battle has taken place here.
The stands are also wooden — simple benches, not very well maintained. The chance of getting a splinter in your backside was quite high.
The arena was clearly not popular, but today many people of different races and statuses had gathered. All of them came to this shabby arena for one person.
A chubby, short man from the Serokas race stepped into the center of the arena.
Serokas — “a race of humanoid beings similar to Earthlings, but with distinct differences.
Their skin color is predominantly gray.
Instead of a traditional outer ear, they have a rounded, disc-shaped protrusion with an opening.
Their cheeks have indentations made of raised ridges, creating a rough, textured effect.
According to their tradition, their hair is always braided into several small braids.”
This man was both the owner of the arena, the referee, and the judge. His name was Gorlond. He sold services related to delivering “drugs” across the corners of the universe. And so he decided: why not make extra money from fight betting — and constructed this arena.
The people in the stands were buzzing:
— When is it finally starting?
— I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes, I didn’t pay just to wait!
Some were placing bets.
And then Gorlond took out a microphone and spoke.
Gorlond — “Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the wait. Today, on my modest arena, a historic event will take place that may decide the fate of one person. In this battle, the following will face each other…”
Gorlond pointed his right hand to the right side — “An experienced free fighter, 32 years old, who has participated in this arena more than once. A fighter 213 cm tall, weighing 189 kg. Holder of 66 wins and 34 losses. Record winning streak — 6.
Please welcome… Earlona!”
From the corridor stepped out a massive humanoid with greenish skin. His eyes were large and blood-red, with dark red pupils. On his chin were mandibles.
His red eyebrows were so long and thick that they were braided into a single plait and thrown back over his head.
His physique was powerful: large, broad shoulders, strong muscular arms and legs. But it was also clear that he had subcutaneous fat.
He climbed over the barrier and walked to the center, waving to the crowd, shouting and flexing his biceps.
The stands were whistling. Someone shouted that he must not lose, because someone had placed a large sum on him.
Gorlond, pointing to the left side, continued:
— “The next fighter is the youngest participant, 18 years old. But despite his age, he has achieved unprecedented results. A combat slave of the ‘SET’ shop, 172 cm tall, weighing 84 kg. He has 99 wins and 0 losses. I think there’s no need to mention his winning streak — it’s obvious.”
From the corridor came a guy — a human with an athletic build and short black hair.
He approached the wooden barrier but did not step over it. Instead, he crouched down, tensed his legs, and with one jump cleared the barrier. Flying about five meters, he landed in the center of the arena прямо in front of Earlona.
The stands came alive from such an entrance. Most of them were shouting:
— “Edmon! Edmon!”
Gorlond raised his hand, calling for silence:
— “Attention, please! This fight for Edmon may become a decisive path to his freedom. We all know that a combat slave who reaches one hundred victories has the right to gain freedom and independence. So today we will find out whether Edmon will become another free fighter, or whether Earlon will break his winning streak and leave him in slave, powerless chains. Today we will see it on this arena!”
The stands erupted again, filled with war cries and shouting.
Someone shouted:
— “Come on, Edmon, this is your chance!”
— “Edmon, I want larvae from you!”
Others, on the contrary, were against him:
— “Earlon, show this brat a real fight! This kid has only ever fought one disgrace!”
Edmon did not pay attention to the shouting. He was looking at Earlon, carefully examining him.
Gorlond — “Alright, you know the rules: fight until the first knockout or submission. No weapons. Strikes to vital points, including groin and eyes, are allowed.”
And suddenly, while Gorlond was still speaking, Edmon poked Earlon in the stomach with his index finger. His fingernail sank into Earlon’s fat fold.
Edmon, with a smirk: — “What a mess you are! Maybe you should go lose a couple of extra kilos?”
Earlon: — “Hey, you, bought fighter. Do you really think I’m going to believe that a brat like you has a whole hundred wins without a single loss? Yeah, right, like I’d believe that! All your fights are bought so you can build your image and make your enemies fear you. It’s obvious you’re just an amateur — you built some dry muscle mass and think you’re the strongest. Remember, kid: striking power and body durability don’t depend on fat folds!”
And then the gong sounded. Earlon immediately went on the attack. He pulled the right side of his torso back and threw a straight punch with his right hand toward Edmon’s face.
Edmon wasn’t even in a guard stance. When Earlon’s fist was almost about to hit his face, he took a quick step to the right side, turned the right side of his body toward Earlon and the left side back, and during that movement delivered a right hook to Earlon’s lower jaw.
Earlon staggered to the right side and, stepping back, tried to regain his balance.
Edmon took one long, sharp step forward and, closing the distance, lifted his right leg bent at the knee.
Earlon saw this and realized Edmon was about to kick his face, so he brought his left arm up to block the strike.
But Edmon’s leg, as if stretched on a spring, suddenly snapped straight and delivered a sharp whipping kick to Earlon’s lower jaw. The impact made a sound like a whip crack that everyone in the arena could hear.
Earlon’s blood-red eyes gradually turned pale red. He began to fall: first onto one knee, then the other, and finally collapsed completely, face-first into the sand.
Edmon: — “Maybe extra fat really doesn’t affect punching power and body durability. But extra weight definitely affects movement speed.”
The stands erupted. Gorlond climbed over the barrier and, running up to Erlon, began a ten-second count.
Gorlond reached ten, but Erlon still did not get up.
Gorlond, rising from his knees, walked up to Edmond, grabbed his left arm, raised it high, and said: – In this fight, by knockout, the winner is Eeeeedmoooon!!!
The revived crowd praised Edmond. As he passed the nearest spectator seats, voices shouted: – Nice! Hope we see you again. – Damn, another fixed fight, you’re pissing me off! I don’t believe in fights like this! – Don’t listen to him, he’s just a fan of that loser who bet everything on him. – Who are you calling a loser?!
Edmond entered the corridor, and the farther he moved away from the arena entrance, the quieter the noise from the stands became.
———————————————————
The locker room. A small cramped room with a single locker and a wooden bench. Edmond quickly changed clothes, put his belongings into a bag, and left.
Stepping out into the corridor, he saw his master, Sompon, from the Noldlin race.
“Noldlins — a humanoid race resembling a hybrid between Earthlings and elephants. Their skin is a slightly grayish tone. Their trunk-like nose varies depending on gender: in females it does not extend past the chin, while in males it can sometimes hang down to the chest.
Their ears are large like elephant ears, with earlobes that droop almost to the shoulders.
Their feet are wide, similar to those of humans (Earthlings) suffering from elephantiasis.”
Sompon: – Well then, congratulations on your hundredth victory, – he extended his hand to Edmond for a handshake.
Edmond reached out his hand: – Thanks. Well then, give me all the necessary documents and I’m out of here.
Sompon: – Look at you, so impatient. We’ve spent so much time together, and you already want to bolt away from me. That’s kind of hurtful.
Edmond scratched the back of his head and, smiling awkwardly, said: – Sorry, that really was rude of me. I’m just honestly tired of these easy fights. You know what I’m after.
Sompon: – Yeah, yeah, I know your story: always looking only for strong fighters, you’ve been drilling that into my ears for ages. Tell me, where are you planning to go now?
Edmond: – I don’t know yet. But I’m definitely leaving here. Preferably somewhere where I can actually meet strong fighters.
Sompon: – Then just stay here. You haven’t even been to the second and first levels. I’ve heard there are much stronger and more powerful fighters there.
Edmond: – I doubt it. A fighter’s strength doesn’t depend on how fat his owner’s wallet is. For people like you, they might seem strong, but in reality they’re just empty shells, like that green brute.
Sompon: – Well, suit yourself. I’m not planning to stay here either. I’m thinking of going back home: in half a year I’ve saved up more than I did in two years of work. And speaking of earnings…
Sompon pulled a flat case out of the briefcase he had with him and said: – Everything you need as a free citizen of this dump is in here. Your documents proving that you belong to no one, and all your local records are inside. Don’t lose them: if you walk around here without them, they could easily sell you into slavery.
And this card — it holds the local currency. With it, you can buy or sell things here. Without it, you won’t even be able to leave, because you have to pay for the flight.
And before you fly anywhere, you’ll need to withdraw this money and convert it into the currency used in the system you’re traveling to.
They walked out of the building.
Edmond took the documents and the card and put them into his bag: – Thank you, Mr. Simpon. I won’t forget your kindness.
Simpon: – No need for that, I’m only following the rules. Since you’ve been freed, as your former owner who is responsible for you, I’m required to do everything so that you won’t run into any problems. And the money on this card — it’s 15% of everything you earned from all your fights, exactly as much as I owe you under local law. If you don’t believe me, read the contract.
Edmond: – I believe you, but I’ll check.
He took the card. It was an elongated rectangular shape. In the center was a symbol resembling the letter (T) crossed by two lines, set inside a diamond shape. The card shimmered in the light like prismarine. On the back side of the card there was only a dark circle.
Edmond pressed his finger against the circle, and on the side of the card where the symbol was drawn, a holographic screen projection appeared.
There Edmond saw the amount of 500,000 (T)-tekels.
Edmond: — Wow, that’s a decent amount.
Simpon: — That’s for sure. It’ll be enough for you to live for the next three years without working.
They walked out of the alley.
Simpon held out his hand: — Well then, it’s time for us to part ways. Good luck with your affairs. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.
Edmond shook it: — Same to you. Have a safe trip home.
And with that, they went their separate ways.
———————————————————
Edmond was walking along the sidewalk, looking around at the surroundings. After the emotional ordeal and finally gaining his freedom, he felt hungry. He spotted a diner on the opposite side of the street. Edmond pulled out his card, spun it between his fingers, and thought: it’s time to make use of the opportunities of free life.
Edmond crossed to the other side and, as he passed by an alley, saw a homeless man named Valera, nicknamed the King, lighting a fire in a steel barrel to keep warm, and at the same time cook a couple of rodents he had caught. He was throwing into the barrel anything that could burn. His special method for getting a strong blazing flame was a canister with some kind of greenish acid-colored liquid.
Edmond was crossing this alley, twirling the card in his hands and watching the patterns on it shimmer.
Edmond: — Let’s grab a bite now, and then we’ll head out.
And suddenly, from the opposite side of the road, a guy with light greenish skin and hair of the same shade slammed into him at full force. He crashed straight into Edmond’s hand holding the card. It slipped out and flew along the force of the impact directly into Valera’s steel barrel.
At that very moment, Valera was pouring in his liquid when the card fell right into the heart of the flames.
As soon as the green sludge touched the fire, the flames burst into a bright green blaze. Satisfied, Valera pulled out his sticks with the skewered rodents and resumed cooking.
Edmond, in shock, rushed toward Valera and knocked over the barrel, then began desperately trying to find his card. The green fire burned like never before — a single touch of the flame did not just ignite the skin, it seemed to eat through it like acid. Valera was screaming at Edmond in an incomprehensible language, but Edmond paid him no attention. Through pain and burns, he kept searching for his card in the burning pile.
And he found it, but it was already too late. The card was deformed, covered in melted streaks, nearly a third of it was basically gone, and the black circle on the back no longer worked because it simply wasn’t there anymore.
Edmond clenched the remains of his card, lifted his head upward, and with a furious, piercing scream cried out — Nooooooooooooo!
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