The power facility had been hastily converted into a holding area for those registering S.C.U.s for combat, along with the Units themselves. Most of the original machinery that once powered the place had long been stripped or looted, leaving behind a cavernous space now repurposed for staging. It wasn't uncommon for Units to wait days before being called into a proper match.
Orion used the downtime to mingle with the most charmingly dubious characters he could find. Spark vanished almost immediately, off to locate Firelight once a rendezvous was set. D-Mo, meanwhile, made her way toward the arena.
The fighting pit was housed inside one of the old cooling towers. Seating spiraled upward along the interior walls, leading the eye to the open sky above, while the arena floor had been leveled for combat. What caught D-Mo's attention was the constantly humming ward encircling the base—an active barrier designed to keep stray spells from damaging the structure itself.
From what she gathered, there were three main types of matches. Dog Fights featured counterfeit units battling each other—generally the least wagered on and least exciting. These bouts were clunky affairs, filled with crude melee brawls where one unit simply beat the other until it shut down. Some knockoffs mimicked spellwork, but it was all smoke and sparks—fuel bursts and timed charges, nothing close to the real magic ArchTek engineered.
Then came the Lion Fights—crowd-pleasers where a few ArchTek Units were pitted against swarms of counterfeits. It was a massacre every time, but the audience loved it. No one ever bet on these; they were for spectacle, not sport.
And finally, there were the fights—no extra label needed. One-on-one battles, usually between high-end ArchTek Units, though a few well-built counterfeits occasionally made the cut. These were the main attraction, the real draw for gamblers and fans alike.
A tournament was held every week, and as luck would have it, the next one was set for the day after tomorrow. If D-Mo wanted to make a name for herself, she had to do it fast.
The name Warden echoed in her thoughts. It had a certain weight to it, a nice cadence—but something about it felt off. Still, she decided to leave it be. The sound alone was enough for now.
She left the arena when the time came and made her way to the rendezvous point by the registry. Orion was already there, his face caught between worry and quiet calculation.
"Oh, good. You're here," he said, fidgeting with his hands. "We are now officially, completely, and utterly... broke."
D-Mo gave a casual shrug.
"I made a few contacts for odd jobs once we're out of here," he added. "So I probably won't starve, but..." He trailed off, the weight in his voice growing heavier. "If you're beyond repair when this is over... or worse..."
D-Mo stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, giving a quiet shake of her head to reassure him—it wouldn't come to that.
Orion pressed his lips into a thin line and drew in a long breath. "Your first match is tomorrow. No clue what they'll pit you against yet." He glanced around. "Anyway, have you seen Spark?"
Two short beeps answered him.
"Well, she's proven she can handle herself. She knows where to find us in the facility."
Time passed, and night settled over the facility. Orion, exhausted, managed to drift off on one of the creaky bunk beds. D-Mo stayed close, standing watchfully by his side amid the ongoing noise and motion around them. Spark still hadn't returned. D-Mo was worried, but kept her priorities straight.
The night passed without incident. At first light, they made their way to the matchup board to check D-Mo's schedule. Scanning from bottom to top, she spotted her name slotted for the second fight—against another ArchTek Unit.
Further up, Orion's eyes froze on the very first listing of the day against Jury. He exhaled sharply.
"Oh, Arthur is going to kill us."
The challenger read:
SPELL CONTAINMENT UNIT
S-RK
CALLSIGN: SPARK