This just in, sports fans, Humanity's Paragon, Arin Firenze, also known as AK-47, has been spotted at the exclusive sports resort on Europa! Reporting on the scene will be yours truly, Cacao Ghee, starting tomorrow at six!
In the fuzz of the net sphere broadcast across Earth and all of human space, the being laying in Room 1408 of the Earth's Capital Hotel saw the messages of his employers.
The Human Paragon is still alive. Your method before the match failed to generate the desired result.
"Then I'll just have to beat her myself. I know Humanity. You'll get your chance soon." They spoke out in a voice filtered heavily by the device around their throat.
The Human Paragon is not the designated one for optimizing our success. Our Paragon has a natural disadvantage. We attempted assassination.
The being's hands tightened. "That is not my fault. If Arin is still alive, your saboteurs were sloppy, it was better to stay out of altering the final fight."
Better for you, biological. You have forced us to hire your services directly.
"Woe is me. More money," the being chuckled. "I told you to hire me upfront. Let Humanity know its time is done."
This method had the highest calculated likelihood of success. Your arguments were not persuasive then.
"But I can see from my bank account that they have persuaded you now."
A direct challenge is now unavoidable. You will fight the Human Paragon when the time comes, in a galactic cycle.
"Let me show you something," the being said. Hijacking the signal, they sent a copy of one of the notifications they'd received to the signal's source, far beyond the orbit of Pluto, hidden in the noise from the three stars of Alpha Centauri.
After a long pause, their employers replied.
Unexpected. We do not have a translation for this word, 'week.'
"With humans, it means seven Earth-days. Made up of one-hundred sixty-eight Earth hours, each equivalent to about 1.2 Galactic Standard hours."
Unexpected. They have already lost one world to us, and yet they would challenge us again under the Reclaimation Rule. They must be seeking to exploit their natural advantage with the magnetic psion. The water psion would have been less concerning.
"Humans are brash. Willing to risk everything for the sake of a grand revolution, rather than know their place."
On this subject, we agree. You have your discretionary payment. The funds will not be traceable to us. You will represent Zyr in this Wager, Paragon X. We will make arrangements to ensure your success. Contact terminating...
It was subtle, but if one were to notice the slight shift of their body, the masked figure might have seemed to shake in silent emotion as their hands balled into fists.
*
Salut, Sentients of Human Origin!
This turn, on Galaxy Today - your designated presenter of the most important galactic subjects - I, Slar of Blorg, present you with today's topics.
First: The Mighty Hundred extend their greetings to your new Paragon... Ayy-Kay Forty-Seven. Good work.
Her simple name-number designation pleases Slar.
Second: The Lorzha have been approved for the designation the former human colony of... New A-mur-ika as a Class 5 Death World, a new record in downgrading from Class 3. An impressive feat to Slar of Blorg, who finds this amusing.
Humans are advised that to retrieve any relatives or desirables from the world they must pay the necessary fees to the Lorzha Corporate Authority's Indenture Purchasing Service. Perhaps renting a few million will raise the world back to Class 2, but Slar of Blorg thinks not.
Last: The Human Polity challenge of the Zyr Cybernetic Collective, for reclamation of the Lyra System, has run into amusing problems. Zyr has already challenged the Cinbar United Strata for control of a system. Your challenge is accepted, provided you are willing to face two champions in a duo-Warsport match, including THE MIGHTY PARAGON X. Otherwise, you will wait one standard galactic cycle, assuming you are not foolish enough to challenge another target.
Slar of Blorg challenges humanity, with great amusement, to finally show humility, and wait your turn. You have nothing else to wager. Bwa-hah-hah-hah-
Details after these commercials.
*
"Well, shit. Didn't think we'd wind up in a double-feature right off the bat," Cherry said.
She and Arin were sharing the same feed, just a day after they left the hospital for the secure training facility on Europa.
Arin was concerned. More than concerned. She knew of Paragon X, had followed their career for the last twenty years... And never once had they strayed away from their letter, even though they were more than capable.
Warsport was a game of numbers. The lower the number, the stronger the Paragon's combat record. The Lorzha Paragon was numbered 2,997. Which was actually quite impressive given there were just under ten thousand Paragons in total. As the newest Paragon, Arin's number was 9894. Depending on how she beat him, her number would go down by more or less, because aside from combat records, Paragon numbers were expected to reflect how entertaining they were as they drew out fights for the amusement of the whole galaxy.
Only the Hekatoncheries Paragons were exempt from this rule and many others. They rarely fought in wagers except amongst themselves, though the position of the Hundredth was notoriously susceptible to change. Anyone could challenge the Hundredth for the role, though the usual wager was always that the Hundredth served the Qui Qu'ul Consciousness, a psionic gestalt obsessed with entertaining the galaxy.
But there were Paragons other than those who fought for their species. Paragon mercenaries, whose existence was allowed because some species simply couldn't compete with their galactic colleagues in the arena.
Such people were assigned or could hire champions from other races, but there was a hard limit on which of the mercs could take any particular job, and they competed amidst each other. A sovereignty-ending fight was the purview of the best among them.
The fact that she would be fighting a lettered Paragon merc meant that they were in the top twenty-six of the thousand available Paragon mercs, according to the most common way humanity tracked them.
Paragon X was one of the most cutthroat of the cutthroat, and a quick search was all it took to discover their penchant for underhanded tactics and fatalities in the arena. Their price point was such that demanding the value of an entire moon was not out of the question to hire them.
Knowing this already, Arin ignored all this as Cherry brought it up, staying in her own head as she continued to jog on her treadmill.
Paragon X was still a relative unknown despite being so powerful. They were clearly some kind of psyjock, but nobody knew their species or gender. Only that they hired themself out constantly for Warsport, and had a particular penchant for killing Paragons, having done so three times to the second, fourth, and fifth Human Paragons.
Arin still remembered when she was five, watching one of her first Warsport games.
She'd been left in New Palestine with her aunt while her parents got to view the fight up close, thanks to being part of the Human Diplomatic Corps. That had been a solo fight. Earth's Fifth Paragon against Paragon X.
Her mother, the second most powerful psyjock in humanity at the time, and a magnetic manipulator just like Arin, should have been able to protect her mom...
But when the containment for the arena on Lyra II had failed, they were just casualties... Just another victim of the same kind of accident that always seemed to happen around Paragon X.
Most knew that terrible fight as the day that Humanity's Fourth Paragon died. But Arin knew only that it was when her mom had died, and her mother had disappeared... Likely vaporized by the massive energies of the arena along with most of the front row.
"Arin? Arin are you there?" Cherry's question finally pulled Arin out of her thoughts.
"I've got the Sports Chief of the Polity messaging me to know if you're willing to do the double feature with the Cinbari Paragon. The Polity doesn't want to delay-"
"Neither do I!" Arin said, perhaps a bit too loud, judging by the way it made Cherry jump. Trying to hide her anxious energy, she told the treadmill to go into sprints as she did the same, topping it out at 100 kmh. Still woefully slow compared to many species out there.
Cherry gave her a concerned look. "But you were complaining about the three-week-"
"I'm fighting!" Arin shouted, accidentally releasing a psycho-magnetic pulse that shorted the treadmill beneath her. Fortunately, it slowed to a stop instead of just stopping abruptly. "Against Paragon X, I'm fighting."
The day that bastard killed her parents was the day Arin first unleashed her psionics in a fit of rage-filled despair.
There had to be a reason she got her powers the day her moms died. She would make sure of it.
"Why?" Cherry asked.
Arin gave her no answer as she left for the showers.