“This is my moment,” a boy said with a huff, rubbing his hands together to steady his nerves. His only torch in the dark were his red eyes, a fickle glow nearly bright enough that he could almost see an arm’s length away. As empty and silent as limbo, the room was a blank expanse save for the stutter of his breath and the high-strung atmosphere.

Excitement surged through his heart when the chains began to echo across the walls. He was blinded when the door lifted, his senses scrambled for a moment as a flurry rushed into him. A sigh escaped his lips when the light dimmed.

The crowd bellowed a hateful boo when he stepped into the cage fashioned with the banners of the planet Vikino, an excellent display of steel roads hindering any effort of escape. One step forward erased a step back.

The sky above was as cold and unforgiving as the viewers around, whipping and roaring against him to scatter his dark hair and throw his hood over his head more than once. Even the warmth of the ruby’s glow in his chest was sliced by the wicked winds. The audience didn’t miss a beat.

Afterall, humans were a rare sight to see.

The boy couldn’t stifle a flinch when the door across the arena began to lift, the light just barely bleeding into the room before the gate was blown off its hinges. A white furred, gorilla-like behemoth with bone protruding along its spine and limbs tore through the metal like tinfoil and stormed into the clearing with a roar of cheers around him, all blaring the name, “Skull Crusher!”

The only attraction the boy featured was the hue of his eyes, the red of the sky before a storm; Skull Crusher’s kin to death was far more popular.

A hefty camera descended to the boy’s eye level, its lens twitching and turning to focus on his face. He faked a display of confidence while under the eyes of the viewers, quickly dropping that composure when the camera turned away and dashed across the field at a speed sustained by unknown means.

“Welcome, Universals, to the twenty-seventh qualifying match of our ODYSSEY program!” The announcement boomed across the stadium like thunder, deafening thought. “On my right!” The camera jumped back to the boy too quickly for him to collect a face, and the previously ecstatic voice swapped to a sarcastic and oppressive tone. “We have a boy of mystery with one dark history... The weakest combatant in this years’ challenge... Ken Kawasaki!” The onlookers broke into fits of laughter.

“Hey, I’m not the weakest!” he barked for no one to hear. “That’s an overstatement.”

“And on my left!” The voice returned to enthusiasm in a blink. “An unstoppable force of nature… The monster that has earned people’s hearts…” The tension boiled to the brim. “... The most promising outlaw of this year; Skull Crusher!”

The monster beat its chest and roared into the sky.

“Fight!”

“So, let’s see…” Argo started, one leg crossed over the other as he ran his finger down a chart in hand. “You participated in seventeen matches. There were two draws, fifteen losses and in three of the matches, you nearly died- including the last one.” The man looked up from the scores with a pained, disappointed slant of his blue eyes. “Really, Ken?”

The two sat close at a tea shop not far from the arena, the storm outside beginning to lift regardless of the cold's persistence. Argo had a generally delicate and captivating way about him with a suit and spiked blonde hair, a direct contrast to the wild look of the kid before him. Ken went as far as to bear a gnarly bruise across the left side of his face as a brand from his past match.

Ken grinned as he lifted his tea to his mouth, nearly dropping the cup when he flinched at the heat of the steam against his wound. He hissed and pulled it away from his face. “Come on! It’s not that bad. I got two draws, didn’t I?” he whined.

Argo lost his patience. “Your optimism will be the end of you, idiot! If you can’t fulfill even the minimum criteria, you won’t get selected for a team!”

There was a pop in Argo’s earpiece and then the familiar charisma of the announcer. “Contender 009 and contender 950, please arrive at your previously discussed destinations. The thirtieth match of Block B will begin shortly.” Argo sighed and opened his mouth to snap at Ken again when the announcement repeated itself. “Repeat, the thirtieth match of Block B will begin shortly.”

He surrendered the fight and rose to his feet. “That’s my cue.”

“Alright,” Ken said as he hopped up eagerly, confidence returned. “I’ll see you at the selection process.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Ken. If they don’t deem you worthy enough, you won’t get into a crew at all.” Argo turned and tossed his teacup into the snow beside the street, soon disappearing down the way in the fog of the storm.

All kinds of races hurried down the streets, each more fearsome than the last to Ken’s human perception. He glanced down at his coffee with a somber expression and followed the steam with his eyes as it curled into the air and vanished into the cold. His failures were a sudden pressure against his skull.

“It’s no time to break down,” he said as he rose to his feet, his breath a puff of heat into the merciless winter of Vikino. “Sparkle Princess once said that only those who give up are the true losers! I can’t feel down now.”

Regaining his determination he sprinted forward ready to face the what the world had to offer