The next week was a blur.

Most of it was spent training for hours with Tenn. The pair hadn't spoken much since Iggy accused him of being involved with the rebellion—a rebellion Iggy still wasn't one-hundred percent certain truly existed. The man only talked to give him instructions and occasionally berate him whenever he messed up.

Their silent sessions gave Iggy time to think. Too much time.

With every passing day, his worry for his mother grew. Her medication was due to run out any day now and he wasn't sure how long she would be able to go without it. While she wasn't completely helpless, he didn't want her venturing into town on her own in her current condition. Novr's sandstorms and almost toxic air quality would only agitate her lungs. And not to mention the bandits who hid in the shadows, waiting to mug any poor soul who crossed their path.

To keep his head from imploding, he threw himself into his training. Before he knew it, he went from being able to do a handful of press-ups to being able to do a hundred. He stole books from the guards' barracks, studying different styles of fighting and combat. His swordsmanship had even improved a tad. Tenn still insisted his blocking stance needed work; "Any decent fighter could disarm you with the flick of a wrist," he always said. His ankle, while still painful, had started to heal a bit. He could manage to do a light jog for a few minutes before it flared up again.

Would it all be enough to keep him alive? Only time would tell.

He was running out of time to prepare. The Chyron was set to arrive in Elysium Prime in just a few hours. Iggy found himself sitting in one of the courtyards staring up at the black, nebula-covered expanse through the massive skylight built into the ceiling. The colors bathed the grey walls, dousing everything with vibrant hues.

Clusters of prisoners stood beneath the black sky, murmuring amongst themselves as they anticipated their arrival on the empire's capital planet.

Tenn stood beside Iggy. His attention was directed elsewhere.

"Are you nervous?" he asked the old man.

"I don't get nervous."

"Pfft. That can't be true. Everyone gets nervous."

"I'm not everyone."

Iggy rolled his eyes. Yeah, okay, Tenn. He'd grown accustomed to the Andradan's stoic demeanor. It was fairly amusing at times, and largely annoying at others.

A robotic voice announced they had entered Elysium's airspace. The black sky above gradually faded, giving way to a pale azure obscured by wispy, white clouds. He spotted smaller ships racing for the heavens, zipping past as they darted for the upper atmosphere. Dozens of his fellow inmates flocked over to the windows built into a nearby wall. Iggy looked to Tenn, who wasn't even paying attention. Shaking his head, he left the old man to his own devices and joined the others at the windows.

His eyes widened as he drank it all in.

The ship dropped from the sky, cutting through the clouds and towards a sparkling ocean. Metal behemoths framed like boats Iggy had only seen in digital magazines cut through the waves as they zoomed overhead, each one sporting multiple flags, including ones that bore the symbol of the Elysian Empire.

Iggy stood on his tip-toes as he tried to get a better look out of the circle-shaped panes. He felt his heart drop after spotting something in the distance. The once never-ending ocean was interrupted by a white skyline that seemed to stretch forever. As they grew closer, he spotted buildings stretching for the sky like angels reaching for home. The beaming star in the corner of the sky gleamed off the impressive structures.

Bluffs of pale rock lingered closer to the water, hoisting up an intricate system of docks that wrapped around the metropolis. Spacecrafts of varying shapes and sizes populated the metal platforms. A hyperlink rail, much more sophisticated than the one on Novr, snaked through the stubby mountains framing the outside of the city in the distance. Tunnels led through the rock, transporting the trains deeper into Elysium.

Iggy wondered where the arena was. He couldn't see it from where he stood, but he knew it hid in there somewhere.

The Chyron approached an empty spot on the dock and prepared to land.

Once the ship finished settling down, the ground shaking slightly during the sequence, the voice from before instructed everyone to form several single-file lines starting at the front of the cafeteria. Automatic doors slid open and dozens of Elysian guards with electric batons in their gloved hands rushed inside. No one stepped out of line. Not even Vonn and his cronies, who were all mean-mugging Iggy and Tenn from across the courtyard.

Iggy nudged Tenn. "Nervous yet?"

"Not even a little."

Iggy rolled his eyes. "Well, I am."

"Of course you are. You're weak."

"Hey!"

"Sorry."

He wasn't. Iggy took the apology anyway.

The hundreds of prisoners on the Chryon were led through a series of halls that eventually emptied out into the spacecraft's central hangar. Walls several stories high framed the massive space. Bright light poured from panels built into the ceiling. Smaller ships sporting dangerous-looking blaster cannons were parked about the hangar. A shimmering, holographic wall separated them from the dock outside. More guards stood near a panel on the wall, waiting patiently to disengage the forcefield.

Iggy stiffened with every step. His chest tightened and sweat beaded on his olive skin. The panic was starting to set in now. He was on Elysium. The centerpiece of the empire. Home of the Noblus families. Birthplace of the Elysian Games.

The forcefield disengaged with a satisfying zip. Fresh air flooded Iggy's nostrils. He hadn't realized how stuffy the inside of the ship was. A ramp extended from the dock, mechanical whirs filling the noisy air as it reached for the edge of the carrier ship. Once secure, the guards led the prisoners down onto the dock.

More soldiers dressed in white uniforms were waiting for them. The hyperlink Iggy saw earlier led into the docks as well. A long train with multiple compartments waited at a nearby station. Flashing lights met his eyes, words in Galactic Standard blinking away on the nearby screens.

"The train will escort you to the arena in Sector Eleven," the head guard announced.

Grumblings rippled through the crowd of inmates. At Iggy's side, Tenn remained quiet, his face pointed forward, his expression as neutral as ever. He desperately wondered what the man was thinking. Not a hint of emotion was present on his face.

Iggy glanced over his shoulder. Beyond the Chryon was the sparkling ocean. It reminded him of the sapphires he sometimes saw miners come back with on Novr. A warm breeze fluttered through; the blazing star overhead kissed his olive-toned skin, which had been deprived of natural light for far too long.

He closed his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, he forgot where he was.

"Move!" a guard barked. He scowled.

Now he remembered.

This wasn't a vacation. He wasn't here to sun-bathed on the white beaches of Elysium or to party with Noblus families in their infamous PleasureGardens. He was here to fight for his freedom. For his life. For his mother's life.

A scowl twisted his lips.

He took one last look at the ship he came from before averting his eyes to the train ahead.

Once he stepped foot on that hyperlink, there was no going back. Not that there was anyways. After those glass doors closed behind him, his life as he knew it was over. He was no longer Iggorii Amrada, the innocent salt miner from Novr. He couldn't be that boy anymore. Tenn's words from before echoed in his ears like wailing sirens.

Taking a life changed a person. When he got in that arena, it would be necessary.

Nothing would stop him from winning these games and getting back to his mother.

Nothing at all.

#

"Alright, off you go!" the train operator chirped through the speakers.

Iggy jolted upright in his seat. Rubbing his tired eyes, he scanned the area around him. The hyperlink train had come to a stop. The digital sign built above the exit doors blinked with their destination—Sector Eleven, also known as Neon City*. Apparently, Elysium had been divided into twelve unique sections long ago, each ruled by a different Noblus family. The Au Grattus family owned the arena and helmed the Elysian Games; Iggy only knew that because the family also owned the empire's entertainment sector. One would be hard-pressed to find a television set or video game without their stamp on it.

Neon City* stared back at the Arigoriian teen through the glass windows and doors of the hyperlink. Skyscrapers reached for the clouds, their glittering surfaces laden with busy advertisement boards and banners. Aircrafts zipped overhead, making their way across Elysium. Hundreds of people milled about outside, every single one of them dressed in clothes that likely cost more than Iggy's rent back home.

Gulping, he stood up alongside Tenn as the hyperlink's doors slid open. Per an Elysian guard's order, they followed the other tributes onto the platform outside. Iggy nearly stumbled off the train, almost faceplanting into the pavement below. Fortunately, Tenn kept him upright until his sensitive eyes readjusted to the abundance of light—both natural and artificial—around him. Around him, he heard his fellow would-be gladiators clamoring as they marveled at the spectacle before them.

"What's going on?" he asked, trying his best to blink the glare out of his eyes. Once his vision returned, his question answered itself.

The building ahead was shaped like a giant triangle, but instead of pointed edges, they were flattened. Skyboxes held up by pillars stretched from the corners. The entire thing swallowed several blocks whole, melding in with the surrounding structures, seemingly possessing a symbiotic relationship with the city around it. Glowing advertisement boards projecting holographic messages decorated the glass walls. Multicolored banners draped down from the top, each one displaying a different symbol—one for each Noblus house.

The arena...

It was even grander than he expected it to be.

A piece of the heavy, opaque glass lifted, revealing the main entrance to the stadium. A tunnel led inside, lit up by bright beams of light lining the stone ground. Two people approached them—a short man donning a fuchsia getup that belonged on a runway and a female Hand dressed in a two-piece black-and-white suit.

Had it not been for her glowing eyes, Iggy would've thought her to be an Elysian too. The eyes of an android always gave them away. Always.

"Welcome to the arena!" Purple Man exclaimed upon arriving in front of the crowd of would-be participants. "I'm Moxi Daystar, curator and host of the Elysian Tournament. Beside me is my assistant, Elena. On the behalf of our new emperor, welcome to the arena and Elysium. We're extremely excited for you to compete in this year's games. Not to toot my own horn, but these should be our most exciting yet!"

No one shared Mr. Daystar's enthusiasm. His words were met with blank stares and scowls. It didn't phase him in the slightest. Had Iggy not known any better, he would've thought this man was the android. His speech and mannerisms were oddly robotic, almost scripted. The taller woman next to him simply stood there with a clipboard in her hands. A tight smile decorated her manufactured lips.

Iggy peered at them both curiously.

Behind him, he heard voices and footsteps. He craned his neck to see civilians rushing toward them. Guards rushed over to the edges of the platform to create a barrier between themselves and the tributes. Their electrified batons were activated; the menacing hum of the current was enough to keep the onlookers at bay. A few snapped pictures while others screamed at the tributes in jubilation.

Iggy tilted his head at the sight.

Were they not aware that most of these people would be dead in a few days' time? Or maybe they just didn't care. They were on Elysium now—the vapidest planet in the empire.

And that was saying something.

"If you all would follow me," Elena said monotonously. Turning on her heel, she turned to tread down the tunnel leading back into the arena. A guard stomped forward, shouting at everyone to fall in line.

The Hand led them through the arena, giving them a quick tour of the facilities before dropping them off at any area doused in white light. Scanners built into the high walls blinked with green dots. The spacious room was sectioned off into dozens of rows, each manned by a person donning a white lab coat with a small glass device in their hands.

Iggy turned to Tenn for an answer.

"Beats me," the old man whispered.

"Before you are assigned to a class for the games," Elena explained, "you must be evaluated. This helps our benefactors determine who to keep an eye on as the games progress, aiding in our galaxy-renowned betting system."

Betting system?

Iggy wasn't sure why it made sense. Betting on the lives of the fighters made perfect sense, in a sick, twisted kind of way. Those fortunate enough to be able to watch the games surely had disposable credits, which in turn would be used to bet on the poor souls fighting for their lives in the arena. He sneered at the thought of some pompous jackass betting on the likelihood of him surviving or not. But what had he been expecting from a people who corralled random prisoners to participate in deadly challenges for sport?

"Evaluated?" someone asked. "Evaluated for what?" A guard hit them in the stomach with their rifle—the price for talking out of turn.

The android continued as if nothing happened. "Injuries, mental health, physical attributes. All of this will be recorded and updated throughout the course of the games."

After that, everyone was instructed to form separate lines behind the partitions blocking them from the rest of the white room. Iggy shuffled forward, keeping close to Tenn as the man filled into one of the lines. The boy watched as the other tributes began their evaluations.

The scanners in the walls emitted a green light, which poured over the tributes standing on metal panels. A series of mechanical whirs and beeps sounded as information was sent to the devices in the lab technician's hands. As Iggy approached the front of the line, he caught a glimpse at one of the tablet's screens.

Their heights, ages, weights, and other miscellaneous information were all recorded. The person who'd just been scanned apparently had a heart problem. Their name lit up red. Others had a yellow aura. Only a few were green.

"Next!" a technician called.

Iggy gulped.

He shuffled forward, keeping his head down as he stepped onto the silver square on the floor. It shifted beneath his feet and lit up for a brief moment, likely assessing his weight. A beam of verdant light hit him, momentarily stealing his sight. Cupping a hand over his eyes, he tried to see what the person recording his vitals was typing on their tablet.

"Do we get to see our results?" he asked once he finished.

They stared blankly at him before calling the next tribute. Frowning, he shook his head and went off to find Tenn.

#

Once their evaluations were complete, the tributes were taken to their living quarters. They weren't much better than the rooms on The Chryon; the only difference was they were bigger and able to house about a dozen people at a time instead of one. Scrubbed stone walls enclosed rows of metal bed frames and stiff cots. The lights in the ceiling flickered ambiently and shadows hid in every corner. Iggy almost thought they'd left the arena. Everything else inside the stadium was top of the line.

But that was on the surface. They'd taken an elevator multiple stories beneath the street to get here. The public likely had no idea what the living conditions of the tributes looked like. Iggy doubted they would've cared either way.

The guards placed Iggy and Tenn in a room together, along with some other older tributes and a few cripples. He'd spotted Vonn and his lackeys in the room down the hall. As he took a seat on the edge of his cot, he realized something.

They were being separated strategically. The evaluations must've played a factor in how they were classed. He still had no idea what his said. His curiosity began to eat away at him. Questions fluttered around his mind like butterflies. What did the colors around the names mean? What did his evaluation say? Had his hurt ankle come up in the report?

He grabbed a fistful of the thin sheet beneath him, garnering a few strange looks from those around. Squeezing his eyes shut, he urged himself to calm down.

"You noticed it too then?" Tenn asked as he sat across from him.

Iggy nodded. "What do you think it means?"

The man shrugged. "Could mean nothing. Could mean we're doomed to die first. We won't know until we step into the arena."

"Well, that makes me feel a lot better."

"You're welcome."

They were left in the room for about an hour, watched by a pair of guards standing at the door, until a woman in an ornate dress decorated with star-like patterns entered. She was trailed by a tiny robot with one eye-shaped lens in the center of its square face. It waddled behind her, head rotating like an owl's.

Iggy peered at the woman. She sported thin-framed glasses and an even thinner build. Long arms held a digital tablet close to her chest. Her blond, neatly trimmed hair sat in a bun atop her head.

"Hello, everyone!" she said from the front of the room. "I'm Ivy Brightway, sports and entertainment division reporter from the Elysian Chronicle. I've been tasked with covering this year's games and wanted to take a moment to meet the tributes."

Iggy resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her name.

Almost no one paid her any attention. They were either too busy sleeping or wallowing in their own self-pity. Clearing her throat, she walked through the room. Her robot followed, head tilted upward towards its owner. Eventually, the pair made their way to Iggy and Tenn. Ivy beamed brightly at them.

"Well, who might you two be?"

The pair exchanged a wary look before answering. The woman's striking blue eyes lit up after Iggy told her he was an Arigorrian.

"An Arigoriian! Your people are so interesting!" she exclaimed. Her tinny voice made him cringe. "I've always wanted to visit Yensari. Please, tell me what it's like. Are the oceans really as green as people say they are?"

"Er, I guess? I didn't really grow up there. I was mostly raised on Novr."

"Novr? The salt planet?" Her nose wrinkled.

"Yep, that's the one."

"How'd you end up there?"

"Don't really remember. My family immigrated to Novr when I was little."

She adjusted her glasses. "And your family consists of who?"

"It's just me and my mother now," he replied. His expression soured at the thought of her. "My father disappeared seven cycles ago."

Ivy's eyes lit up. "Interesting. And what were you arrested for? You don't strike me as the type of criminal who would've done something terrible enough to land them here."

He scowled at the reminder.

Should he tell her the truth? His judgment advised against it. Who knows where this information might've ended up? Then again, if he could get his innocence into the public, perhaps he could free himself from the arena. He immediately dismissed the idea. Nothing could save him from the games except himself.

"I stole something," he said. It was a half-truth, as he didn't enjoy lying. "I'm just here to pay my debt to the empire and provide for my mother."

"Your mother, eh?" She typed something else on her tablet. "Go on."

"Yeah, she's sick—"

Tenn placed a hand on his shoulder. The old man gave the boy a subtle shake of the head. Iggy swallowed hard and closed his mouth. He got the message.

Ivy cleared her throat and shifted her attention to the elder Andradan. "And who might you be, sir? Partner-in-crime? Mentor?"

"Something like that." Tenn snorted before sticking out a wrinkled, liver-spotted hand. "Ohr-Yahn Tennic. Andradan. Galenrad."

She shook his hand, her eyes narrowed. "Interesting, interesting..." Her gaze flickered to the tattoo on his neck. She stiffened, her hands tightening around her clipboard. The robot at her feet whirred, the sound reminiscent of a dog whining. "Were you arrested because of your affiliation with the rebellion?"

Now it was Tenn's turn to squint.

Iggy watched the both of them, his heart pounding silently in his chest. While the tattoo wasn't exactly hidden, it wasn't out in the open either. The woman was observant. It was no mystery how she obtained the role of "head reporter".

"That's none of your business," Tenn said with a grunt.

Since their arrival in Elysium, Iggy nearly forgot about the rebellion. His mind had been a bit preoccupied with worrying about the arena and his mother. Whether or not the infamous uprising really existed beyond individual insurgents like his father and Tenn had yet to be seen, but there clearly was some substance behind it. If a reporter from the empire's capital planet heard about it, surely it must've been true.

Speaking of the truth...

"So, it's true?" Ivy asked Tenn. "You're a rebel conspirator?"

The old man grit his teeth at the woman. She held her hands up innocently and backed away. Her robot trailed behind, the click-clack of its feet hitting the ground filling Iggy's ears. She tapped something on her clipboard and nodded. Then she smiled at Tenn.

"I'm going to enjoy following your story," she told him. She glanced at Iggy. "And yours."

Iggy frowned at the woman. He didn't like the way that sounded. He turned to his older companion. "That was weird."

"Yes," Tenn said. "Yes, it was."