Bloat-face absently chewed on an arm. It barely gave itself any time to digest, greedily nibbling on the detached limb. Its blood-matted mouth moved steadily. It grunted contentedly, smacking its tiny lips as it ate. The tatau on the arm it was devouring fizzled as the leftover mana moved from the devoured to the devourer.

“Brat,” it grumbled, bloated face squirming happily. “I do enjoy these savages and the power they bequeath. This feast has been heartier than the little Tu’i promised.”

“Mmm,” Headless grumbled, flaps of desiccated skin wriggling as it noisily slurped the sinew off of a bone. It belched as it fell back on its haunches. “These savages all taste very good.”

Lanky tottered by, throwing a thigh at one of its brothers. “Not as good as those zealots. They were so... delectable.”

Eyeless held half a skull in its hands, upturned as it lapped the brain matter of an unlucky combatant happily.

“I don’t like it,” Smiling said, perfect mask-like face still twisted in a grin as he ate. “I feel as if they are fattening us.”

“So what if they are?” Bloat-face asked.

“If they are, then I want to know what for.” Despite his words, Smiling continued chewing on a beating mass that spewed blood with each bite.

“No use thinking on it,” Lanky grumbled, deep voice causing the gory room to shake. “We’ll find out when we do. Until then, eat up my semya.”

The sounds of crunching intensified as the intruders ate their fill. They had been allowed to bring the remains of their foes back into their waiting room. Each round was little more than a massacre ending with the disgusting numen engorging themselves.

They had been left weak and enfeebled after crossing the Void-ocean by force. Their arrival had been little more than a drubbing handed out by the little Tu’i as he took advantage of their weakened states. Now, they glistened with stolen mana. They were given the chance to eat and enjoy the flesh of both natives and foreigners, a veritable smorgasbord of meat.

A knock rang out before the door hidden door swung open. “Candidates, your final match will be commencing shortly.”

Headless threw a half-eaten finger at the Faifekau before it spoke with its thick accent. “Can’t you see we are still eating?”

“Apologies,” the plump little woman said, coolly evading.

Despite its attitude, Headless moved toward the door.

All five intruders shuffled simultaneously, ignoring their sibling’s random outburst. They had to save face somehow and the little things always added up. Little acts of rebellion went a long way in allowing them to feel a semblance of control.

“Who is on the menu for today?” Smiling asked as he walked by, his modesty only covered by the fact that the room was dim enough to cast shadows around his naked form.

“A foreign delegation,” the plump Faifekau answered.

The smile on the intruder’s face grew as his eyes glinted maliciously.

“Ah, I love foreigners.”

“So I’ve heard.”

They filed out, one after the other.

---

“Brat,” Smiling said as the group stepped into the arena. “Allow me the honor of playing with our meals.”

Lanky, his elongated form hunched over as he walked using his long arms for support, grunted. “Only if you promise to leave enough for the rest of us.”

“No worries there, my dearest brother.” Smiling tapped his bloated stomach. “I am full, for the moment.”

For once, they were the first to enter the arena. As they crossed the undefined barrier, where the intruders always felt large amounts of potent energy idling, the sound of feet shuffling reached their ears.

3 disheveled, confused old men ambled past the partition and the familiar crashing glass sounded overhead. Their clothes were little more than tattered rags, falling apart at the seams as they walked.

“Mercy,” the one in the middle muttered as he laid his tired eyes on the smiling intruder.

“Why do you thank me?” Smiling asked, voice a low growl as he cocked his head at an odd angle. The slits that served as eyes on his face narrowed further as the smile turned into a minute smile.

“No,” the old man wheezed again. “Mercy, have pity on us. Please. This was not part of our deal.”

“What deal?” Smiling spat, mouth a thin line of anger. His opponents had yet to realize that his lips stayed put as he spoke. “I know of no deal, peasant. Speak plainly.”

“The deal!” the old man wailed as his legs faltered. Manic energy surrounded the man as he hit the ground. “We aren’t supposed to be here! They promised!”

The man shed unsightly tears, nose running as he spoke. “Those bastard heathens! They promised clemency!”

Smiling looked back at his siblings and shrugged, mask-like face slack and confused. “Who are these heathens?”

“Them!” The old man spat, spittle dribbling down his weak chin. “The faif-faifegu-fai- them! Those servants of the Tu’i! The ones dressed in black!”

“Oh, them,” the smiling intruder, face upturned in an odd, mocking smile. “Well, you can’t ever trust the Tu’i. Seems you little ones never learned this lesson, yes?”

“Brat,” Lanky grumbled. “Why do you toy with them? This is taking much too long. I hunger.”

“My apologies, eldest. But the finest meal takes time to prepare.”

The old men looked at one another, unsure what the beings were talking about. The one on his knees continued weeping, oblivious to the disconcerting talk.

Lanky grunted and turned away. He was followed by the rest of his siblings, who appeared to have lost interest in the conversation.

“Brother,” one of the old men shakily reached out to their groveling compatriot. “Look.”

Slowly, the old man stood. His face was caked with tears, mucus, and dirt from the arena floor. He turned his filmy eyes on the intruders who had turned their backs and his expression brightened.

“Wi-will you let us live?” he whispered, holding his breath.

Smiling cackled. “Maybe. Depends on my semya’s mood. Yes?”

The cackle traveled throughout the arena, filling it with its ill intent.

“Who is your semya?” the last of the triad piped up, hiding behind the other two.

“Why,” Smiling said as he turned, theatrically spreading his arms and motioning behind him. “My family, of course.”

One by one, the grotesque forms behind him turned. Lanky was the first, with his elongated arms and legs. The thing was huge, muscles twining with each movement.

Bloat-face turned its large face second, slowly revealing itself to the astonished old men. Its large lips flapped with the slightest movement.

Eyeless was next, turning its empty holes on the men. After so many free feasts, it had put on some meat. Squatting next to its taller, much larger brother, the intruder sucked its teeth at the men, flashing them with an absurd smile. Their filed teeth glinted maliciously.

Finally, Headless took their time showing off the desiccated skin flaps that served as a maw. Much like Eyeless, they were much healthier looking. By intruder standards anyway.

“This is what a real semya looks like,” Smiling said, smile deepening as he spoke.

The 3 old men blinked rapidly as they seemed to finally connect what they were looking at. They had been conversing with something that was far from human and were finally realizing this fact.

The one in the back howled as he fell backward. “Daemons!”

He began making an odd gesture, touching his forward before swiping his hand from shoulder to shoulder. The other two followed suit, with the eldest of them rising to his feet.

“Is that what we’re called now? How… unimaginative,” Smiling said, the smile still growing deeper and deeper on his perfect face. “We were called that so long ago. I had hoped you would come up with better names for us after all these long years.”

“Begone!” the lead old man yelled as he pulled out a little trinket.

Smiling hissed and turned his face away as the trinket, a cross with a triangle at the top flared. A brightness filled the arena and the intruder let out a shrill scream.

The 3 old men, each with a trinket in hand, muttered prayers as they closed their eyes to shield against the brilliance. As the brightness wore off, the screaming continued.

Finally, it flickered out. But the odd shrieking kept going. Bewildered, the old men opened their eyes. They found the smiling intruder doing a macabre dance, face upturned as he howled and shrieked. It was obvious his eyes were closed as he flung his arms about.

After a moment, Lanky grunted. “Brat, you can stop now.”

“Oh,” Smiling said as he froze mid-step. “I thought they would be able to hold out for a bit longer. It was only just beginning to warm up.”

The intruders snickered behind him.

Breathing coarse and heavy, the 3 old men took further steps back and away from their opponents. Their leader attempted to speak but his voice failed him.

“Shh, it is ok,” Smiling said. “Let me explain. Then all will be ripe. Or right. Whichever works for you. Now. Sit.”

As if under a heavy compulsion, the 3 old men fell on their butts and crossed their legs like obedient children.

“Good, good. Now, listen closely. Because this information will be vital to your survival. Yes, yes, very vital indeed. Nod if you understand.”

The old men nodded. The one who seemed to be their leader made to speak but found it difficult to do so.

“Ah, no speaking. Not right now. First, you learn how to listen. Then, you will learn to speak. Understood? Nod once.”

All three nodded in unison.

“So.” Smiling strutted back and forth, his smooth body rippling under the sunlight that streamed through the opening far above. “We are not Daemons. We are the precursors of your gods. Or God. Whichever one you little mortals believe in. Understood, yes?”

Smiling gave them no chance to signal their understanding. He continued his long-winded diatribe.

“As such, we are to be worshipped by you, seeing as we are the elders of your little gods. We are here to put these upstart Tu’i in their place and take control of this sacred island. Even for us, from our far-off lands, this place holds a deep meaning. This is the belly, the source, the womb. And it is our right to rule over it.”

He was marching back and forth now, occasionally stopping and pointing somewhere off in the horizon. The old men watched and listened, their filmy eyes growing more and more glazed with each word. His words were doing what they were meant to do.

“So, we enlist you, foreigners. Even if you have never heard of us, you will aid us. For that is the true destiny of all who come into contact with us. Understood?”

The old men nodded as if their necks were on springs.

“Brat, you are taking too long,” Lanky grunted impatiently.

The spell over the 3 old men broke.

“Dammit, eldest. I had them ready and ripe!” Smiling groaned as the film receded from their eyes.

True understanding dawned on the men.

“Brothers,” the leader said. “Let us pray.”

They began mumbling their prayers and a brilliant shield enveloped them, fizzling with their imbued power.

“Shit,” Smiling spat as he bounded forward. “It could have been such a fine and easy meal.”

Lanky chuckled as he tapped his long fingers on the ground. Each tap struck out an odd beat, familiar only to those who had lived as long as the intruders. It was an ancient beat, one that they had used on countless battlefields millennia ago. Back during the dawn of the age of man, when bloodshed and death were much easier to come by. His siblings joined in, tapping out the ancient melody for their brother’s battle.

Smiling threw himself against the barrier, shoulder first. With a sickening crunch, the intruder’s shoulder gave way.

“Mmm, very solid for such a quick one.” Without so much as a squeal, the smiling intruder popped his shoulder back in place.

He balled his large fists up and began punching the barrier. The first punch dislocated his fingers. The second sent a shockwave through his arm. The third dislocated more fingers. Still, feeling no pain, he continued his assault.

“For the smart one,” Bloat-face began, willowy voice lilting as it spoke. “He always has fought dumb.”

The intruders shared a laugh as they watched their brother continue his mindless exercise.

With each blow to their barrier, the old men cowered as the force of each punch disrupted their prayers. They were veterans. They could handle such an assault. At least, that’s what they believed. The meaty squelching of the intruder’s fist connecting with their hastily assembled shield made them tremble.

“Break, break, break, break, break!” Smiling chanted. His fists broke with each strike, healing almost instantaneously as he pulled them back.

A thin crack, a sliver, appeared on the barrier as one of the old men lost his footing.

“Yes,” Smiling growled, smile splitting apart to reveal rows upon rows of teeth.

The old men wailed as the intruder fell on them, flimsy shield shattering and fading away.

High overhead, the sun blinked in a languid motion. Darkness fell over the arena as Smiling’s distended jaw, with its plethora of teeth, chomped down on the nearest old man.