Inky blackness wrapped five vessels as they cut through open space, engines silent against the void. Ahead of them, a marble-sized sphere of blue-white light hung alone, faint at first, then steadily swelling as the ships closed in at nearly three hundred kilometers per second.

  Two of the vessels burned a muted yellow, their hulls broad and layered, unmistakably military in silhouette. One dwarfed the others, at least five times the mass of the three sleek, metallic-gray shuttles flying in disciplined formation beside it. The remaining craft held position with practiced precision, their alignment unbroken as the distant world grew brighter.

  The planet resolved into detail. Oceans first, then landmasses, then cloud bands drifting slowly across a surface that radiated age and permanence.

  Narrator

  The world of Dycord is among the oldest planets known to sustain life. Home to more than five hundred million Dycordians, its mass alone is three times that of the home world belonging to the small Human delegation now approaching on a convergent vector.

  Inside one of the smaller gray shuttles, Julius Gilbert, President of the sky-country Hope, sat alone in a plush stateroom. Soft lighting washed over polished surfaces and reinforced glass as holographic displays hovered above his desk, rotating through financial webs, family trees, and off-world trade routes. His eyes moved quickly, scanning data without pause.

  A chirp sounded from a console at his side. Without looking away, Gilbert lifted a hand. The projection shifted, resolving into the composed face of Jesse McDonald, Majesty’s President, calling in from one of the nearby vessel.

  “Busy?” McDonald asked.

  “Just reviewing what we have on the Harvas family,” Gilbert replied.

  McDonald nodded. “Sixty percent control of Quil’s off-world accounts, last I checked. Preferred method of assassination involves firearms.”

  “Correct,” Gilbert said. “They’re also suspected in several confirmed murders.”

  “Finan chooses successors that way,” McDonald replied evenly.

  “I meant business rivals,” Gilbert clarified. “Off-world rivals. Mostly Cy-based.”

  McDonald exhaled through his nose. “Any financial engagement involving a Finan is dangerous.”

  Gilbert gestured, expanding a profile marked with layered warnings. “And if what I’m reading is accurate, particularly about the one calling himself Gunmeister—”

  A soft tone interrupted him.

  A light above the cabin door shifted from blue to amber.

  McDonald glanced aside. “Atmospheric entry.”

  “The 108 are disengaging,” McDonald continued. “We’re on independent approach now.”

  Gilbert leaned back, folding his hands. “Our security should be sufficient.”

  Moments later, Dycord’s sky filled the viewport. The three remaining ships pierced the upper atmosphere in tight formation, the vast expanse of Topaz City spreading beneath them.

  Julius leaned toward the window, unable to help himself.

  The jewel dominated the skyline. Even from this distance, it eclipsed the city, its surface refracting light in slow, deliberate patterns.

  “I’ll never tire of that sight,” McDonald said softly.

  “Nor will I,” Gilbert replied.

  The shuttles descended into a fortified hangar. Ramps lowered in controlled sequence as security teams poured out first, followed by administrative aides moving with rehearsed efficiency. Gilbert disembarked flanked by two agents, and greeted immediately by a small contingent of Dycordians.

  Hands were shaken. Smiles were exchanged. Formal phrases were traded without warmth or hostility. McDonald joined them moments later, repeating the ritual.

  The group transitioned smoothly into fortified hovercars waiting beyond the secured bay. DDF soldiers stood in visible perimeter positions, while others lifted into the air on grav disks, forming a layered escort.

  Gilmesh, Lord of the Guardian Caste, awaited them. Pleasantries were brief.

  The delegation split across vehicles with minimal discussion, and the procession began its glide toward Assembly Hall, DDF units maintaining tight aerial cover overhead.

  Inside his hovercar, Gilbert declined an offered refreshment with a polite shake of his head. McDonald did the same. Their eyes met briefly, understanding passing between them.

  Gilbert leaned forward.

  “Is there any chance we could speak with the Quil ambassadors?” he asked.

  “They will be present at the photo op,” Gilmesh replied.

  “I meant privately,” Gilbert said. “Discreetly.”

  Gilmesh studied both men in silence. Then, nodded once.

  Gilbert leaned back, mirroring the gesture.

  ELSEWHERE

  Roxy’s voice cut clean through the air.

  “Ready,” she called.

  “Set—”

  “Go!”

  Nine figures stood at the starting line.

  Only eight surged forward.

  Narshira triggered her boosters, but the expected kick never came. Instead, her feet slid, her balance pitched, and she barely avoided planting her face into the ground. She slapped at her suit controls, breath quickening.

  A harsh, cackling laugh cut through the air. She looked up to see Nor drifting past on a grav-disk, his gaunt face split by a ghastly grin as he leaned into the acceleration and vanished after the others.

  Roxy dropped smoothly beside Narshira as the young Cycloid patted at her armor in rising alarm.

  “Is there a problem, Superstar Narshira?”

  “I think,” Narshira said, words tumbling over one another, “I think my sho-tek is— I mean, Nor— he did something.”

  Roxy glanced at the race path, then back at her. “So you’re withdrawing?”

  “No,” Narshira said quickly. “But I—”

  “If you’re not moving in five seconds,” Roxy said evenly, “I’ll have no choice.”

  Narshira clenched her jaw. “Damn it.”

  She broke into a run.

  Her legs burned almost immediately as she pushed herself forward, chasing a field already vanishing into the distance. If she could have seen the full spread ahead, she might have stopped. Ramza was already closing on the first landmark, nearly five thousand miles away, his form a streak against the darkening sky.

  The landmark rose from the Wild Lands like a challenge. Two massive stone pillars spiraled around one another, their surfaces pocketed with hexagonal impressions and overgrown with faintly luminescent blue moss. Thirty feet away, a metallic beacon pulsed steadily, its lights intensifying as night settled across the plains.

  Narrator

  Landmark One: the Great Mystery. A structure of unknown origin, rising nearly three hundred meters skyward. Its interwoven pillars mirror the genetic structure of Dycordians themselves. Whatever purpose it once served has long since been fulfilled, leaving only speculation behind.

  Minutes back from the Deity, Kane and Claude tore across the land.

  Kane ran flat out, Quickening flaring in controlled bursts that cracked the air around him. Claude flew low, wind rolling beneath him, his path hugging the terrain with careful efficiency.

  “One rule should’ve been no gods allowed!” Kane shouted over the rush.

  “Then enjoy the experience,” Claude called back.

  “Like hell,” Kane snapped. “There’s still half a million on the line!”

  Farther behind them, less than fifty miles out, Koshinataa cut through thin cloud layers with disciplined precision. Blue-gold marker lights traced the course below him, rising in staggered columns to ensure visibility even at altitude.

  His sharp eyes caught movement beneath the clouds. A group of Dycordians worked the land by hand, turning soil for crops. Simple huts ringed a clearing roughly twenty meters wide, surrounded by sparse foliage and stretches of blue grass. Unlike the city-dwellers, these figures wore little more than rough sackcloth.

  Narrator

  The Wild Lands form the planet’s largest uninterrupted landmass. Preserved for religious reasons, it remains largely untouched. Nomads who choose to live as their ancestors once did may apply for residence. To preserve sanctity, all modern technology is prohibited.

  Koshinataa adjusted his trajectory without slowing, eyes already forward, the race pulling him on as the land below slipped back into silence.

  The nomads did not look up. They continued their work as Koshinataa passed overhead, never noticing when the Preesling streaked above them as well, moments later like a living projectile. The second figure moved so fast that even Koshinataa had difficulty tracking him.

  But he was to do so, his eyes narrowed as he tracked the green-scaled form cutting through the air at impossible speed. No wings or visible propulsion. Curiosity crept in despite himself.

  The answer came quickly. The Preesling produced a small orb, its surface shimmering with contained energy. The moment he utilized it, his velocity spiked sharply.

  Koshinataa smiled and adjusted his pursuit, matching distance rather than speed, stalking the other racer with the patience of a manohawk shadowing prey across the skies of his home world. Timing the next activation was effortless.

  When the Preesling triggered the orb again, throwing it ahead of himself, Koshinataa reached out with a precise fragment of magic.

  The orb misfired. The sudden loss of thrust sent the Preesling tumbling. Panicked, he produced two more orbs in rapid succession, attempting to arrest the fall.

  Both failed. Koshinataa watched with detached interest; whether the creature survived meant nothing to him.

  At the last second, the Preesling twisted, latching his tail around a lergi tree rising from the Wild Lands below. The impact snapped branches and stripped bark, but it saved his life.

  It also ended his race. Roxy appeared beside him in a flash of light, already smiling.

  “Superstar Fritz,” she said brightly, “you are eliminated.”

  The Preesling stared upward, eyes narrowing as if he could sense where his fortune had turned. He couldn’t see Koshinataa clearly, but Koshinataa raised a hand and waved anyway.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Hundreds of kilometers behind the leaders, Narshira moved at a steady walking pace. Her breathing was calm, her hands were not.

  Still in motion, deft fingers worked inside a compartment along her thigh. Diagnostic glyphs scrolled across her visor as she isolated the fault. A processor, one micron wide. It wasn't vitilized, thus susceptible to magnetic manipulation.

  Nor’s handiwork.

  Narshira laughed under her breath as she removed the fried component and tossed it into the grass. “That’s on me,” she muttered.

  She rerouted the system, bypassing the damaged link entirely. When her backfire thrusters came online, she let out a sharp whoop.

  The ground dropped away as she launched upward, output pushed to maximum. Wind tore past her cloth-like armor as her sensors expanded their range.

  Contacts acquired. Ahead, two Superstars were engaged in a running fight rather than a race. One hurled fireballs in wide arcs, roaring with each release.

  “Think you can embarrass me?” Gorjon bellowed. “I’ll fry your Pian ass!”

  “You’re going to have to aim better than a drunk archer,” Avia shot back.

  Narshira’s sensors flagged the Great Mystery roughly two thousand miles ahead. She adjusted her vector, threading between two fireballs aimed at Avia with barely a meter to spare.

  Avia saw her pass. Her eyes flicked toward the landmark, then back to Gorjon. She smiled once and made her choice.

  “You will respect me, you piece of—”

  Avia vanished.

  The ground where she had stood erupted in a fading plume of grass and dirt. Gorjon skidded to a halt, staring at empty space, mouth open.

  Roxy appeared beside him instantly.

  He raised his third hand. “I know. I’m out. Teleport me somewhere with food. Care to join me, fine feathers?”

  Ramza remained far ahead. More than five minutes clear of the field, he drifted comfortably through the air, legs crossed, like he was relaxing, chewing thoughtfully on a handful of berries.

  He turned toward a hovering viewscope that was able to match his current speed, smile bright enough to draw focus automatically.

  “These are hykinberries,” he said cheerfully. “They only grow on Oym. Sweet, full of flavor, and endorsed by yours truly. If you’d like a complimentary batch for the holidays, just digitize your information to—”

  He flew directly into a migrating flock of wild gulls. The birds, burgundy-feathered and aggressively territorial during mating season, responded immediately. Wings battered him from all sides as Ramza struggled to shield both himself and his snacks.

  “Easy now,” he laughed. “Let’s all be reasonable—”

  He failed to notice the mountain. The collision echoed across the Wild Lands, dust and snow cascading down the slope less than a mile from the third landmark beacon.

  Roxy appeared above the impact site, voice carrying cleanly.

  “And Superstar Ramza is eliminated!”

  Nor heard Roxy’s declaration echo across the Wild Lands and smiled thinly.

  He fed additional power into the magnetic attraction threaded between his grav-disk and the scattered trees ahead. The field strengthened instantly, tugging at the metal-rich flora below and pulling him forward in a controlled surge. It was less demanding than sustained Quickening, though slower without overclocking the disk’s core. The land beneath him blurred into streaks of green and pearl white.

  Narrator

  Dyfodils are regarded as symbols of tranquility or fertility, depending on which Dycordian is asked. They grow nowhere else but the Valley of Tears, a ring of living color encircling the birthplace of Dycordian civilization.

  Nor swept low across the valley, witnessing a monumental statue of carved silver dominating the landscape. Three Dycordians stood with arms raised skyward, each holding aloft a globe. Their expressions were solemn, their forms idealized.

  Narrator

  The Lords of Continent led the Dycordian people into an age of peace unseen since creation’s dawn. They endure as symbols of honor, harmony, and self-mastery.

  Ten meters to Nor’s right, the beacon came into view. He passed it cleanly, the lights adorning it flickered green.

  Nor sensed movement behind him. Two souls, closing fast. His eyesight failed him at that distance, reducing them to little more than moving specks, but instinct filled the gaps.

  He twisted at the waist, rotating until he faced back along his path. One clawed hand rose and traced a lazy arc through the air.

  Invisible electromagnetic fields warped outward, a repulsive lattice designed to hurl any approaching racer backward, out of contention.

  What he did not know was that one of his targets could detect the distortion.

  Narshira's Sho-Tek detected the atmospheric anomaly the instant her sensors brushed the altered magnetosphere. Readouts spiked, patterns resolved, and understanding became clear.

  “Nice trick,” she muttered.

  She activated a custom subsystem, a feature she had named Universal Absorb. The warped magnetic field was filtered, converted, and fed directly into her propulsion grid. Her velocity jumped by thirteen percent as she surged forward, slipping past the checkpoint beacon before the field could react.

  Nor’s trap failed silently. Narshira reached to her hip and hurled a flat, five-pointed device downward. It skimmed the terrain like a virtual land missile, angling sharply beneath her.

  Ahead, the nightmare-looking Superstar loosed needles at the Pian sprinting across the valley floor. Narshira's package curved hard, looping behind its true target. Nor never saw it coming.

  The device slammed into his back and detonated in a focused burst. The sudden reversal of momentum wrenched him violently in the opposite direction. Limbs flailed. His scream tore free as he rocketed past Narshira.

  She waved enthusiastically as he went by and out the race.

  From above, Koshinataa watched Narshira and Avia veer southwest toward the ocean, the Pian already beginning to outpace the flyer. With powerful swings of his arms, Koshinataa accelerated.

  The Tilris frame excelled at dive-bombing maneuvers; altitude and vision working in his favor. He spotted two more racers, the Human sprinting across the ocean’s surface and the Dycordian skimming just above the waves.

  Avia burst from the Valley of Tears trailing a wake of torn petals, crossed golden sands in a heartbeat, and tore across open water, her body reduced to motion alone.

  Through Thrice Sight, Koshinataa knew where she would be three seconds from then. He sent lances of magic outward, gravity-negation fields aimed to slow her. He knew they would not land cleanly. They didn’t need to; bleeding speed was enough. He aimed at the Human/Dycordian pair.

  “Incoming! Dodge!”

  Claude’s warning rang out as the race hurtled toward its next breaking point. Kane had learned years ago that when Claude spoke a warning, you listened. It had saved his life more than once.

  He shifted a single step to the side. The unseen force tore past where he had been, leaving the ocean beneath him trembling. Kane glanced back and caught sight of Avia bearing down on them at a speed his eyes struggled to track. The water split cleanly before her, walls rising fifteen meters high on either side as she carved a path forward.

  “She shot at us?” Kane shouted.

  “Not her,” Claude replied instantly. “She was attacked too. Above.”

  Kane looked up just as Avia blasted past on his left. The wake she left behind surged violently, and he had to fight for balance. He did, feet sliding and adjusting until he rode the wave as if he had grown up on a water world instead of above one.

  Claude flew close to Kane’s other side.

  “With Ramza gone,” Claude said, “she’s the one to beat.”

  “The bird mage agrees,” Kane said.

  Koshinataa dove again, this time committing fully. His attacks focused solely on Avia now, each missed blast wrenching sections of ocean skyward. Kane couldn’t miss the pattern.

  “She’s getting faster,” he said. “Every time he misses. Don’t just fly, buddy boy," Kane added. “Blow him a tornado kiss.”

  Claude shook his head. “He’s shaping the wind with magic. I’d have to collapse my own stream to counter him effectively. From here, anyway.”

  Claude angled upward and left Kane’s side.

  In seconds, he closed the gap, rising to fly parallel with Koshinataa. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Claude twisted the wind currents the Tilris controlled, shoving them toward the outer boundary of the course.

  Koshinataa reacted instantly, banking hard back into the lane and firing a rapid volley of pink energy spheres.

  Claude dodged the first and second. The third caught him squarely.

  The impact hurled him upward at tremendous speed, momentum carrying him higher and higher until the world below blurred into curvature. For a moment, it felt like launch velocity, like leaving the planet entirely.

  Claude forced gravity back into place just as the air began to thin. He tipped forward and dove.

  Below him, Koshinataa had regained distance and resumed harassing the leaders. Kane leapt and swung a Will Blade nearly thirty feet long, slashing upward through empty air as the Tilris evaded and returned fire. Avia tore ahead, Narshira only seconds behind her.

  Land rose on the horizon. Civilization hugged the coastline ahead, stretching for kilometers in repeating oval patterns. The course cut straight through Ruby Row, a vacation district for natives. Avia never heard the crowd. She was moving far faster than sound.

  Each sonic boom cracked against the course markers, which flared brightly as they absorbed the shock.

  Koshinataa continued his assault. Golden brickwork tore free from the road below as his blasts struck, chunks of the paving floating free of gravity.

  Narshira plowed through one such section head-on. She tumbled through the air in a chaotic spin, body rotating like a gymnast mid-routine. Her suit, flexible as cloth, absorbed the impact without transmitting pain. She righted herself and surged forward again, but the delay cost her.

  Two point seven seconds behind the lead.

  The vacation city fell away behind them as the course bent inland toward a range of mountains. Ahead, the peaks ended abruptly, vast swaths of stone cleaved away mid-rise, leaving behind immense stumps of rock.

  Narrator

  The Range of Strength. Hundreds of legends attempt to explain its ruin. None come close to approaching the truth. The third landmark lies here, sealed to all travel by land and air.

  The course veered miles east, skirting the forbidden zone, over broken terrain. The third beacon shone faintly ahead, washed in daylight.

  Avia chose that moment to strike back. She launched into a powerful leap, twisting midair to face her pursuers. Her fist drew back, body coiled tight, eyes locked on Koshinataa.

  “I hate,” she snarled, “when people attack me from behind!”

  She punched.

  The force behind the blow accelerated her even faster, hurling her forward as invisible energy ripped through the air. The atmosphere rippled violently, the only warning of what followed.

  Koshinataa barely evaded the attack. Claude did not. The unseen strike clipped him as he closed, sending him spinning past the course boundary. He lost control completely, tumbling end over end until tractor beams embedded within the markers seized him, bleeding off speed just enough to prevent catastrophe.

  He hit the ground hard, but unbroken. Avia was not so fortunate.

  She hit feet first, knees buckling instantly under the carried momentum. The landing sapped her balance away and sent her tumbling end over end, her body rolling hard across stone and dirt in a motion eerily similar to Narshira’s aerial recovery earlier.

  Those watching winced in sympathetic pain.

  The fact that Avia rose at all was due entirely to her Aura Cloak. Without it, the impact would have left nothing worth standing. She brushed dust and grit from her arms as if mildly annoyed.

  Roxy appeared beside her before she could take a second step.

  “You’re out,” Roxy said cheerfully.

  Avia gave the M.C. the same flat, murderous look she had given her male counterpart earlier, then turned away as Roxy pivoted midair to face the cameras.

  “And Superstar Avia is eliminated,” Roxy announced, more cheer in her tone than was appropriate. “Not nearly as painfully as I was hoping, judging by appearances. I had money on at least ten broken bones, but once again Aura Cloaks rob us of quality entertainment.”

  Avia's look did not change, it intensified.

  “And Superstar Claude is out as well,” Roxy continued. “But our home grown hero seems to be taking it in stride, waving to all of you watching at home. At least I think that’s a wave.”

  Claude raised both hands briefly.

  “Which means only three Superstars remain! The lead is still contested as they clear the third landmark. Superstars Kane and Koshinataa are actively attacking one another, that oversized blade functioning like an enthusiastic flyswatter, but hold on— Superstar Narshira has closed the gap!”

  Narshira surged past the third beacon.

  “And she’s done it!” Roxy shouted. “After a disastrous opening, Superstar Narshira has taken the lead!”

  Narshira split her focus between the terrain ahead and the skies above. Birdman attacks were no longer theoretical. She passed Kane on his right by barely a dozen meters, moving too fast for warning.

  Koshinataa had been laughing moments earlier, amused by Kane’s attempts to swat him from the air. The sound died abruptly as Narshira streaked into his field of vision, first in his Thrice Sight, seconds later, his real vision.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Kane growled.

  The Will Blade vanished and Kane poured everything into his Quickening.

  Koshinataa teleported in close, wrapping an arm around Narshira's neck in a flawless choke. The final landmark rose ahead of them, the titan topaz dominating the skyline. Hundreds of spectators packed the finish area, leaving a wide clearing around the beacon. Floating visuals tracked every angle as the crowd erupted into chaos.

  Roxy glided overhead. “This is it!” she shouted. “Three Superstars, neck and neck and neck, literally! Superstar Kane surges ahead! The others won’t be able to—”

  A flash of magic finally made contact. Kane rose into the air, surprise and shock on his face. His eyes grew big as he saw whose path he was now in.

  “What a collision!” Roxy screamed. “Superstar Koshinataa finally lands a direct hit, launching Superstar Kane straight into the path of he and Superstar Narshira! They’re going down! Clear the area! Now!”

  The three slammed into the ground less than five meters from the beacon, skidding together in a tangled wreck that smashed directly into the structure. The impact tore free chunks of metal and sent the entire beacon cascading down like an avalanche.

  The crowd gasped while Roxy whooped.

  When the dust cleared, a diamond-shaped construct of energy was around the three Superstars, absorbing the worst of the collapse. It vanished the moment Narshira touched her chest.

  “What the hell was that?” Narshira snapped. “You jerk!”

  “Winning,” Koshinataa replied coolly. “What did you think?”

  “Thanks for the save,” Kane said, pushing himself upright. “Though my Aura Cloak would’ve held.”

  “No,” Narshira said flatly. “That was for me. You two were just too close.”

  Roxy descended, not looking at them at all as she addressed the crowd and the galaxy beyond.

  “What an incredible race around the world, capped with a feather-flinging finish! Judges have reviewed all available footage and— we have a ruling!”

  The pause was merciless.

  “The Superstar whose elbow crossed the beacon sensor range first is… Superstar Narshira!”

  The air exploded with cheers.

  Narshira threw both arms into the air, laughing as applause and celebration washed over her. Kane clapped her on the shoulder in congratulations. Koshinataa stormed toward the holographic woman, already preparing his protest.

  Roxy raised a hand without looking at his approach. “Superstar Kane’s head was the second body part across, followed by Superstar Koshinataa,” she continued. “However, Superstar Kane failed to pass within range of the third beacon and is therefore disqualified from final placement.”

  Kane sighed. “Figures.”

  “And due to a violation of planetary preservation laws,” Roxy added, “Superstar Narshira has been fined half a million in currency.”

  Narshira froze. “What?”

  "You removed that faulty component back in the Wild Lands and casually discarded it in a land kept pure from modern technology. You agreed to abide by all planetary rules and forfeit all or a portion of all winnings in violation of any concords when you signed your Superstar contract. Page 643, Artical-

  “Okay,” Narshira cut in. “But I still win, right?”

  “Correct,” Roxy said, cheerfully. “And you walk away half a million c-chips richer. Same as second place.”

  “I do not place second to no man,” Koshinataa snapped.

  “And you didn’t today either,” Roxy said brightly. “Ladies and gentlemen across the galaxy, give it up for the woman of the hour, Superstar Narshira!”

  The cheers that followed made it feel, to Narshira at least, like she had won the entire Coalition Carnage.