"Selaeyah!" The Queen said cheerily, joining her friend on one of Icicle Hall's many ornate balconies. "Guess what? #warmatch2901 is trending on AuraNet+!"

"Wonderful!" The Scientist Chief clapped her hands together. "This year's Match is sure to live up to the hype. I have some truly spectacular events planned for the 1100th anniversary of the annual warmatches."

"Oh, that's right," Saralee nodded. "I can't believe it's been more than a millennium since King Airel first forced two Rhenan slaves to fight to the death in a pit with only wooden clubs."

"Yes," Selaeyah laughed. "Even our great Empire had its primitive days..." She trailed off. "We've improved these games of death exponentially since they were first held in 1801, but I think I know how we can make them even better."

"How?" The Queen raised an eyebrow.

"We always engineer the arenas artificially," Selaeyah sighed. "But I think that the most powerful people on Lessaenes can do better than that, can't we?"

"What do you mean?" The Queen gave her a confused look.

"Why spend our time creating a deadly arena when the worst playing field of all is just sitting there, ready for us?" She smiled slyly.

"And what, Selaeyah, is this terrifying arena you speak of?" Saralee asked, looking quite interested.

"I say we send this year's contestants to the place with the highest death toll in the universe," Selaeyah grinned cruelly. "I say we hold the 1100th annual warmatches on Earth!"