The emergence of the first fighter was already enough to set Iyojin’s heart pounding. Partially true to her prediction, he was modestly tall and broad - clad in Dynasty Plate, a module taken from Titan Beetles that was thick, lightweight, and resistant to many forms of damage.

Dynasty Plate also provided an inherent weapon, the specifics of which would depend on the Beetle. This Executor was wielding a forked horn in his right hand, one prong of which tapered to a point. The other prong was marked with a serrated outer edge and, at its tip, another fork. It was a little over half as long as the Executor was tall.

There also seemed to be a pair of support legs emerging from his hips - spindly and angular, they hugged the back of the Executor’s legs with the exception of a singular king behind the thigh.

Tigerbeetle Legs, if Iyojin were to guess. An unfavoured module among most Chitin, as it was slower than most Dragonflight Wings, but Dynasty Plate precluded flight - it was simply not streamlined enough. At least this way the Executor would have some evasive options.

She couldn’t spot any other obvious modules, so Iyojin turned her eyes to Plater-wearer’s opponent.

This Executor had foregone the Dynasty Plate for a more agile Dragonflight Chitin. Long, thin gossamer wings were draped over their back, folded into a resting position - but Iyojin had just gotten firsthand experience of the speeds and manoeuvrability Dragonflight allowed.

They also wielded a weapon in their right hand - a modified Wasp Stinger of some kind, it looked like. The grip was moulded to the Chitin’s armoured fingers, and rather than connecting to a crossguard the hilt blended into a bulbous shell - presumably the venom organ. From there the serrated, curving blade thrust outward into cruel, hooking points.

Iyojin squinted, making note of some contraption hidden beneath the Dragonflight Wings. A minor shell casing, riveted and with dull red-and-black colouring. A continuous ridge, almost like a rope built into the carapace, fed out of its top, across the Executor’s left shoulder, before leading to a tube that fed out of the shoulder and then back into the Chitin at the elbow.

Iyojin’s eyes widened. That was a Bombardier Valve.

Internally, Iyojin dubbed the Dynasty Plate-wearer ‘Loser’ and the Bombardier Valve-user ‘Winner.’

“Iyojin,” the Factory heir spoke from across the table. “Fancy joining a wager on this outcome? A few of us have some money on Heocjong - he’s been on something of a winning streak the past few months. Gihan usually bets on his opponent, but Heocjong’s opponent is a total newcomer.”

“Which one is Heocjong?” Iyojin asked, not looking away from the arena.

“The fellow wearing Dynasty Plate,” Gihan supplied. “His opponent is Gaegja.” When Iyojin pursed her lips and fell silent, he continued. “The wager is a dozen yong. I can stake you, if you’d like - split the winnings.”

A dozen yong was a lot of money, Iyojin reflected, being the largest denomination of Swarm Cradle currency, worth eight times the next highest denomination. But if Gihan was offering.

“Put it all on Gaegja,” she told him, briefly flicking her gaze from the arena to meet his.

He was looking at her with an inscrutable gaze, but she thought she could detect a hint of a smile on his lips. “All right,” he finally said, nodding to the Factory heir. “I’ll take Gaegja’s victory.”

“Well,” the boy chuckled as he sat back in his chair, “at least you’ll have an excuse when I take your money this time.”

“We’ll see,” Gihan replied, and the light above the arena flared from a dull yellow to a bright white - the match had begun.

Battle was joined in an instant. Heocjong blurred forward, his Tigerbeetle supports propelling him the dozen or more body lengths between him and Gaegja in an instant.

His opponent was prepared, however, throwing themselves backwards just in time to avoid the forked weapon slam into the ground with a muted impact. Iyojin spared a moment to hope Kagino’s foundation was reinforced - she didn’t know how it had survived this long if matches were frequently fielding Executors at this level.

Gaegja unfurled the Dragonflight wings and juked backwards, hovering out of range of their foe.

“Mm, immediately on the back foot,” Factory-boy gloated. “Not a good start.”

Iyojin ignored him, eyes focused on the Chitins of the two, eager for any sign of further modules. The slightest movement of the armoured exoskeleton could give her insight into her own designs - even putting aside the sheer glee that initial aborted clash had ignited inside her.

Gaegja darted forward, low to the ground, bringing their Stinger up to a standard striking position. Heocjong, took on a low stance, raising his own weapon into a defensive block.

Just when Iyojin’s heart was in her mouth, sure that the two would come to more serious contention, Gaegja pushed one foot forward and downward, zipping to the right as they did so - and thrusting them straight into Heocjong’s undefended side.

The bulkier Executor seemed to have been ready for the manoeuvre, however - he pushed off with his right foot and spun round in an instant, swinging one arm round to interrupt Gaegja’s strike before it could meet his Plate.

Gaegja was tossed backward, off-guard, and Heocjong followed through, turning the spin into a thrust, his weapon surging forward to aim directly for the daintier Eexcutor’s elbow.

Gaegja was forced to abandon their Stinger in order to yank their arm out of danger, and Heocjong’s weapon caught the Stinger in its fork. Gaegja had backed off, returning to their position out of range.

Heocjong turned to face his foe more fully, stance totally open. Then, almost contemptuously, he flicked his weapon and tossed the Stinger into the air behind him. It spun, end over end, strangely iridescent blade shimmering in the bright light of the glowlamps.

Heocjong had already kicked off whilst Iyojin was distracted by the blade, and she hurriedly turned her attention back to the battle proper - only to blink, as she realised that Gaegja had already moved.

The Dragonflight Wings had accelerated the Executor over and past Heocjong, towards their blade, which only now began to plummet back towards the floor of the arena.

Gaegja interrupted that fall, however, and redirected it - taking advantage of their momentum to seize the Stinger, spin, and send it scything through the air toward an unprepared Heocjong.

The Dynasty Plate Executor, expecting resistance, had stumbled at its lack - now, turning back to face his foe, he barely managed to raise a defence at the thrown weapon, bracing his forked horn-blade against one forearm in order to deflect the Stinger. The weapon ricocheted away, but Gaegja was there in its wake, pressing the attack, now under Heocjong’s guard.

The shorter Executor struck at the taller one’s wrists, breaking his grip and forcing him to drop his blade. They followed up with further strikes at his joints, working their way up his elbows, to his armpits, and then throat - before aborting the last strike, as Heocjong jerked his head downward and stepped back simultaneously, falling into the classic Dynasty Plate charge stance.

Gaegja juked sideways, but Heocjong had extended both arms and one large, clawed hand clipped the Executor’s trailing leg, sending them into an uncontrolled spin that ended on the floor.

Heocjong drove one fist into the ground to divert his path, spinning on a dime and beginning another charge towards where Gaegja had fell. The smaller Executor had rolled onto his back, then brought his left arm up, forearm braced by his right hand, palm splayed.

Heocjong seemingly did not take this for the warning that it was, simply continuing his charge toward the fallen Executor.

Gaegja activated the Bombardier Valve.

Superheated chemicals, infused with the symbiotic power of the conductive Titan Silk Weave, surged from the chamber on Gaegja’s pack, down the tube connected to their elbow, and met the reactant. The resultant spray emerged the nozzle set into the Chitin’s palm with explosive force.

A wave of pressure rolled over the crowd, rippling through Iyojin’s mane of hair and tugging at her eyelids.

Heocjong was sent flipping head over foot through the air, before impacting against the far wall of the arena with a dull boom.

The front of his Plate smoldered, smoke rising from the scald where the spray had impacted his Chitin. The concoction continued to eat away at the material for a few moments.

Gaegja rose, retrieved their Stinger, and strode over to Heocjong, movement’s cautious but purposeful.

Their opponent made no move from his slumped position, even as Gaegja placed one clawed foot of their exoskeleton on his chest and pressed the tip of their Stinger underneath his chin, tilting his head up silently.

The lights flashed brighter again, then returned to their original, slightly more mellow level. The battle was over.

Iyojin sat backward, letting out a shaky breath and fighting to still her beating heart.

That had been entirely too exhilarating.

“That’s ridiculous!” Factory-boy was blustering, apparently furious at losing the bet. “How in the heavens did you-?!”

“Hand over the money, Waehan,” the girl said, her eyes still locked onto Iyojin. She leant forward and placed her forearms on the table. “You knew Gaegja was going to win that, didn’t you?”

Iyojin surmised that that was a rhetorical question, and said nothing as Gihan passed her a clipped length of carved carapace - her half of the dozen yong.

A smile flitted across the girl’s face, and she sat backwards. “Haiyeun,” she said. “Another round.”

The boy nodded, stood, and went back to the bar.

“Enjoyed your first taste of the arena, Iyojin?” Gihan asked, grinning lightly. “It was a good match, no?”

“Mm,” Iyojin replied noncommittally. “Gaegja should have won in the first exchange. They had the stronger modules, but they didn’t leverage them all.”

“Ah, but quick matches don’t attract attention,” Gihan countered. “It’s in Kagino’s interest to get his fighters to put on something of a show - and the more money Kagino’s makes, the more money they make.”

“Shame,” Iyojin murmured, eyes drawn once more to the arena. “I was hoping for something more… authentic.”

And yet you enjoyed that ‘staged’ match more than any of the technical manuals you’ve read in the past three years, something at the back of her mind pointed out.

Haiyeun returned with the drinks, and Iyojin looked up to receive hers just in time to detect a look pass between the girl and Gihan. Its meaning, Iyojin could not perceive - but from the slight nod the girl gave Gihan, her classmate appeared to have just received her approval for something.

“I propose,” Gihan said, raising his drink. “Another toast - this time, to many more exciting matches.”

Hesitantly, Iyojin brought in her drink to touch against those of the others. This time, when everyone took a long pull at their drink, Iyojin did the same.