Beep. Beep. Beep.

It hadn’t been easy, getting Annatrice del Sed a hospital room like this. Top floor of the Aura Sodele Memorial Hospital, one of the most esteemed medical establishments on Azum-Ha. More than just the top floor -- top level security, every sight and sound constantly recorded, top-of-the-range security automatics protecting the ward from hostile intrusion. Not a microbe could get in there without permission.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

In the end, it had all been thanks to Skipper. Shortly after Elysian Fields, Bruno had found some files he’d left behind -- dangling favours that could still be called in after his death. A long time ago, Skipper had apparently done something that had earned him the good will of this hospital’s director. Bruno hadn’t asked about the specifics: he’d learnt from experience that never ended well.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

So -- to summarize. The best medical care money could buy, with the best security money could buy, all without spending money. Annatrice lay unconscious in the stark white bed, in the stark white room, the heart monitor confirming each beat with a quiet beep. She’d been unconscious ever since her fight against Bruno and Serena. Weeks, now. Some kind of backlash from her ability? Impossible to say without more information.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

And information was one thing they didn’t have. Time for that to change -- at least in one regard. Dragan Hadrien had been keeping his secrets for way too long.

Time to change that.

As they -- Bruno and Serena del Sed -- lingered by the door, their lips moved. A conversation between two people, released and received by one body.

“We shouldn't leave her alone,” Serena said quietly, her gaze fixed on the girl in the bed. She looked so small, nestled deep in the covers like a bug in its cocoon.

Bruno slowly shook his head. “She's safe here,” he grunted. “Safer than she'd be back on the ship, anyway.”

“I guess,” Serena grumbled, her lips scrunching together to an impressive degree. “But she'd be even safer if we stayed with her.”

Bruno reached up, rubbing the bridge of their nose with his fingers. “We can't stay here forever. We came here for a reason, remember? To find Dragan.”

Serena said nothing to that, so Bruno continued. His sigh lingered in the air.

“I know… listen, I know you don't feel as strongly about this as I do. It's just a thing for you, right? But for me… it's important. Maybe the most important thing. I need to… I need to know. I need to see him again. Tonight is my best chance.”

“I know, but…”

“...if I miss this chance, it might not come again. He might die. He might disappear again. I… I'm tired, Serena. I've been dragging you around these last two years. I know. Just give me this one last night. Then… it's up to you. We can do whatever you want after this. I'll follow your lead.”

Serena had nothing to say to that. Not with her mouth, at least. Her feet turned, however, and marched out of the room…

…leaving Bruno to steer them through the night.

The waiting room that Mereloco had been provided with was larger than necessary. A foolish waste of space. It was designed to accommodate only one person, and yet had room for a crowd. Empty lockers lined up on both sides, and yet only one was truly needed. Guards, provided by the company, standing at the doors -- and yet Mereloco had no need of them.

Waste, waste, waste. This age seemed to be defined by it.

One of the guards stepped into the room, leaning into the ear of the woman. She was still following Mereloco as if he were her dog. He disliked it, but having her close was useful in its own ways. He channeled Aether into his ears, boosting his perception so he could hear the exchange clearly.

“Report from headquarters, ma'am,” the guard said, his voice low. “There's been some kind of incident. An attack, we think.”

The woman blinked. “I see.”

“Do we send some of our escort back? There's been a request to recall forces. I mean -- it's not as if this guy needs protection.”

The glare the woman gave him could have cut through stone. “And yet that's what you're being paid for.”

“But ma'am, the recall…!”

“To hell with the recall,” the woman snapped. “Our instructions come directly from the CEO. We stick to the plan until that's no longer possible. You understand?”

The guard nodded, went to stand up -- but found himself pulled back into close proximity.

“And keep this quiet,” the woman hissed. “I don't need word of this spreading around needlessly.”

Pale, the guard nodded again -- and this time, was actually released.

Mereloco, hunched over on the bench, didn't so much as twitch in response to the new information. It wasn't that he was concealing his reaction: it was simply that the matter didn't interest him in the slightest. If something befell his ‘benefactors’, it just meant he'd have less factors to keep in mind.

He simply, truly just did not care.

The blue bar above the door flicked to red -- the indicator, Mereloco knew, that it was time to get moving. The opening ceremony of the Dawn Contest would begin soon. All thirty-two contestants, brought together, competing for Supremacy over all.

That was enough to twitch his lips into a smile.

‘Dragan Hadrien’ was already on the move.

Of course, the young man stalking through the maintenance layer of the Stadium of the Absolute was not Dragan Hadrien. He was probably busy tearing hell through the offices of Halcyon Interstellar right now. But North was wearing his face, and he did so like to get in character.

Silver hair at an annoying length, and blue eyes that glinted in the dark. Terrible for stealth. Even if the face itself wasn't so bad to look at, it wasn't one that North would have chosen. But, he supposed, a job was a job -- and Hadrien paid well enough for the discomfort.

North ran his hand along the railing as he looked down at the massive repulsor at the base of the arena. A great ball of light, like a miniature star, bright enough to hurt when you looked directly at it. Technically, this was the second Arena of the Absolute -- the first had been destroyed in a particularly rowdy Dawn Contest. This repulsor, built to accommodate the new and expanded stadium, was apparently one of the great triumphs of the Absurd Weapons Lab.

Looked more like an eyesore to North. This entire complex, and all the countless people on it, kept in the sky by that thing. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could feel secure, relying on that.

His script buzzed, and he whipped it out of his pocket immediately -- as expected, it looked like it was time to head over to the ceremony. That was no problem. He’d already made the preparations he needed to -- they wouldn’t pay off for quite a while, but best to get these things out of the way early.

Dragan Hadrien really didn’t pay enough for this shit.

Tealin Jade's eyes opened slightly as he felt the colors change in his surroundings. The face-eyes of his Scurrant line had always been somewhat superfluous -- he perceived the world with the far more accurate eyes covering his muscles. Luxuriating in his regained consciousness, Tealin stretched his four arms, blue skin shining in the artificial light.

He'd always found that rest was required before performance. You must astride the stage akin to a newborn, without ego or the doubt it spawned. Such was his wisdom.

As Tealin rose to his feet, the massive lotus flower he'd been resting upon dissipated into blue Aether. He waved the remnants away with a massive hand, like scattering petals into the breeze. A concept occured.

To gift the wind,

And life anew,

I wave my hand,

And so create the world.

Tealin Jade

“Thank you for your kind assistance,” he purred, his voice a double-bass. “And for playing with me.”

His footsteps thudded against the floor as he left the room, leaving his temporary companion in the preparation chamber. As he'd come to the stadium alone, he'd been provided with a handler of sorts -- to make sure he proceeded at the appropriate time. What an unfortunate fellow.

The chessboard still lay scattered on the floor -- where the man had spilled it in the throes of ascension. He himself remained frozen in his chair, held in beauty by rigor mortis and the growths, face angled up towards the ceiling. His mouth was wide open, as were the sockets of his eyes -- and it was a good thing, too.

Gorgeous, vibrant flowers stretched up out of his open face, their petals twinkling high above. As Tealin passed on his way out, he plucked one of the flowers from their soil of flesh and took a deep drag of the scent. Beautiful as ever.

There was no aroma more potent than the untimely.

Ruth held onto the side of the capsule for support as it began to float up into the air, carrying their group over the arena.

She looked over the edge of the pod. Down below, she could see the site that would soon host the battles of the Dawn Contest -- a flat grey plain of concrete right now, but that would surely change when the actual fighting came. Grand cityscapes, furious blizzards, tropical islands… the Arena of the Absolute would accommodate nearly every kind of battlefield imaginable. If nothing else, the Supremacy knew how to put on a show.

Theirs wasn't the only pod hovering in the sky. More of the capsules bobbed and weaved all around them, carrying journalists and dignitaries, anyone who wanted a better view than the common masses. They broiled down below -- a human sea consuming the stands, the sounds of their voices so overwhelming it sounded like a thunderstorm upon itself.

How many people was that? Ruth couldn't even guess at a number. More than she'd ever seen before. That, at least, was true.

“All cameras ready,” Rae giggled from her seat at the center of the capsule. “We're good to go as soon as the ceremony starts.”

Ruth nodded quietly to herself. There were four guards in the pod along with Rae -- well, five, really. Herself, Rex, Alice, Bruno and Serena. Ellis had remained at the hotel, observing from a distance and serving as mission control if anything were to go wrong.

She couldn't help but feel like that was unlikely, though. You'd have to be an idiot to pull a stunt here, at the heart of the Supremacy's power. Not even Skipper would have been that bold.

Spying Alice tugging uncomfortably at her collar, Ruth gave her a look. “Stay professional,” she said. “It's only for a little while.”

They’d done their research, after all -- the ceremony wouldn't actually be that long. The First, Second and Third Ministers would say some words, the contestants would come out for the pledge, and then they would all go their separate ways. At midnight, once they were all gone, the tournament brackets would officially be revealed.

That made their mission easy. They just had to follow Dragan on his way out and get some answers out of him. Sure, if he didn't want to be found, it'd get a little tricky -- but Ruth wasn't so weak that she couldn't catch up to that pipsqueak.

“Here we go,” Rae whispered.

Three massive holograms slammed into existence at the center of the stage -- and immediately, the cacophony of the crowd was reduced to a hush. These were not people to be taken lightly. These were not people to be interrupted. Those who did found that they did not exist for very long.

These were the ones they called the Three Wise Men. The First, Second and Third Ministers -- the heads of the Body. Unique positions granted for life, given a great deal of control over the Body's policies and activities. For the last two years -- hell, for a lot longer than that, probably -- they had been the ones actually running the Supremacy.

They couldn't have looked more different. The First Minister, the oldest among them, was a tiny elder with a kind smile and a balding head. He wore the ceremonial white robes of his position, wrinkled hands clasped in front of him as he regarded the crowd.

The Second Minister was quite the opposite. He was hunched over too, to be sure, but even so he was so tall that he towered over his companions. White hair stuck up crazily from his scalp -- standing up in every direction, like a sea urchin, and his white Umbrant pupils were as wide as his bright white grin. All in all, he gave the impression of a vulture -- and the ceremonial red robes he wore didn't do much to reduce his ominous aspect.

The Third Minister was comparatively normal. A middle-aged man with brown hair and brown eyes, a calm smile on his lips. Blue robes clung to his person. It was tempting to think that he was less dangerous than the others because of his apparent normalcy, but Ruth had heard otherwise. There were plenty of stories about the bloodlust of Inimants.

The three of them stood close together, like a single entity, a beast with three heads. That was how the world saw them: the Three Wise Men. It was rare to refer to them separately, and even then they were almost never named. It wasn't that their names were a secret -- only that their positions were the important part.

The brain of the Body. The master minds. They opened their mouth.

“It does our hearts good…” said the First Minister, his voice echoing through the stadium.

“...to see so many gathered for the commencement of history,” the Second Minister continued.

“But enough talk…” the Third Minister concluded, extending out a welcoming hand. “Let us meet the king of the next age.”

All around the arena, doors began to slide open -- thirty-two in all -- and the people who’d been waiting in the tunnels beyond them stepped out. As one, they marched towards the center of the stadium -- towards the elevated platform that had suddenly risen from the floor. A pedestal for the worship of the prenatal god.

People of all shapes and sizes. Scurrants and Pugnants, Cogitants and Umbrants… and one contestant, kept within a massive metal box, accompanied by two guards. Even with all that, though, the eyes of Ruth Blaine were fixed on just one person.

Dragan Hadrien. He walked calmly forward, his cold eyes fixed straight ahead. Ruth felt Bruno tense up next to her, and she knew she was much the same.

It had begun.