The centaurs were making a fuss over Gale as they kept him from bleeding to death, but I kept my distance. He'd just make some stupid joke about being disarmed by the female centaur's beauty, and I wasn't anywhere near ready to fake a laugh for him. The leonid strode around the place like he was expecting to be praised, and everyone else was avoiding him. I'd have happily shoved his tail up his own ass, but Basil had made it very clear that he was the one who would see to his brother's honor, and the way he was acting lately, I hardly dared argue with him. I was surprised he had kept himself from attacking the furry shithead at first sight. We'd been explicitly warned by Rakkoden not to fight in the competitors' room, so Basil was keeping himself in a corner with his eyes glued on Esmi, who was doing her level best to keep him from doing something stupid.

"You ready?" Afi asked me, slipping her hand into mine.

I squeezed her fingers. "I don't know if ready is a word anybody can use when they're fighting in front of the gods."

"Don't I know it," she murmured.

This Orc bastard beat the pants off of Gerard back when we were fighting for the city. Yes, I'm Mythic now, but I've never so much as tested what I can do. And he's got that big damn axe. Shit. I really wish I had a Legendary in my deck. I was supposed to say something comforting to Afi right now, I knew it, but my mind was spinning and my hands were clammy.

She took my face in her hands. "You're going to tear him apart."

My eyes traced the angry red line Mother had given her. The centaurs had healed it as well as such a thing could be, but as Mother had promised, Nether wounds left bad scarring. The bitch wanted me to see her every time I looked at Afi. I refused. "I like this new look you've got."

Her eyes tightened. "Don't."

"I mean it," I insisted. "You look like a pirate queen or something. Nobody's ever going to give you shit again. Not even me. I'd be worried you'd hand my own ass to me."

Her mouth quirked. "Best watch yourself and keep me happy, then."

I kissed her as thoroughly as I knew how, which I privately suspected was less overwhelming than I might have liked. "Yes, ma'am."

"You can start by winning this match and coming back without a scratch," she said. She tried to make it light, but I could feel the tension in her.

"Competitor Hull," Rakkoden called. "It is time."

My guts lurched. "All right, then," I said, making my voice as gruff as I could. "See you in a bit."

Basil spared me a terse nod on my way out, and Esmi was so busy whispering to him that she didn't even notice me go. Titus sneered at me. Gale was still flat on his back. We've gotten thrashed this first round, I admitted to myself. Time to turn it around. I reached deep and found the part of me that would always be Little Hull – my feral street kid self – and bathed in his unfocused rage. I was going to rip out this Orc's tusks and break them off in his eyeballs.

It was weird standing in front of all these thousands and tens of thousands of people and hardly hearing any noise. For the barest moment I had a fond memory of standing in front of the chanting crowds of the Rising Stars Tournament way back when after one of my wins. I chuckled at myself. The me I had been back then would have never guessed that he'd one day look back on that experience as anything other than one stressful scrape after another. Now here I was trying to defend an entire city; it'd be a relief if the worst thing I had to deal with was a mad dog slumlord trying to keep me under his thumb.

The Orc general stumped into position opposite me. "You smell like the other one. The one I beat to a pulp outside your city. You bear the same blood."

I wasn't really interested in chatting with this asshole, but I didn't want him to think I was scared. "Turns out you can hardly throw a rock around here without hitting one of the Sun King's bastards."

"You will be the third of his get I will have bested," he said, patting the pouch hanging from his studded belt. "A poor prize compared to what that demon bitch stole from me, but I'll take it nonetheless."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, but our cards were already flashing overhead.

He had less Attack than I'd feared, but that Toughness 2 was going to be a bitch, and I didn't like the sound of his Source Explosion ability, either. I'd had to ask Basil what Chaos Source Explosion did once I realized who I was paired against, and he'd reminded me that each detonated Source caused one of my Souls that he picked to do its Attack damage for him instead. Random targets were a damn sight better than him getting to pick, but I didn't much care for that kind of variability on the dueling field.

Even more importantly, looking to my own abilities, I needed to learn to manage my Source better. I was accustomed to going balls-out and using up all my Source on every turn, but if I was going to put that new 2x damage reflect of mine to use, I'd need to be more careful than I was used to.

Targu'Thal was just as interested in my card as I was in his, which thankfully shut him up for a minute. The ante cards showed themselves.

At first I was pissed off to see an Epic set up against my own Mythic when I knew damn well he had a Legendary in his deck, but on second glance I was pissed off and confused. Fate could use my skull for a punch bowl if this piece of shit had both Life and Death Source in addition as Chaos; I'd asked everyone on our team who'd seen him fighting and they all swore he ran straight Chaos. "What the hell is this?" I blurted.

Targu'Thal grunted a laugh as we both put up a Source; his was Chaos and mine was Nether. "It seems Fixed and Flux like their little dramas enough to bend things. That card's in my pouch, not my Mind Home. I win, I solidify my dominance over the Sun King's offspring. You win, you get your sister back."

My sister? I knew the face in the card; it was that crazy girl who'd saved us against Yveda the Endless's pet Spell Drinker lieutenant out in the field and then run off with the damn thing's soul card and its torn-off arm, of all things. She was another one of Hestorus's bastards? I'd been more right than I knew when I made that "can't throw a rock" comment a minute ago.

No time for wondering – I had a fight to win. My Hammer hit the scene first.

I wasted no time talking; I wanted to hit this son of a bitch hard and be done as quick as possible. I reveled in the feeling of sheer power that emanated from me as I came in for the strike. Hitting for 6 damage on turn one! It felt pretty damn good.

The Orc grunted and blocked from hand. "You're stronger than–" He broke off with a snuffle from his piggy nose and his eyes went wide. "Her!" he bellowed. "You are hers!"

"I'm my own," I shot at him as I fell back from the attack.

"I'll kill you!" he raged, suddenly berserk. "Tear you head from tail and stuff your balls into your dead mouth!" He didn't even summon anything; he just came at me with his fists. I tossed a Ravening Hatchling and a Ghastly Gremlin in the way to soak up the hit.

"This was already a duel to the death," I said, nonplussed. "You gonna kill me extra or something? What's your problem?"

I brought out a couple of Souls to pester him.

I usually liked to have my Talisman on before playing any self-damaging cards, but I had my other Ghastly in hand, and the Ravening Hatchling soaked up the last point nicely. The Bog Imp's power allowed me to devote my Nether that hadn't been quite ready in order to bring out the Root Imp. I sent all three souls in after him, and card shreds flew.

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"She is the bane of all, the great deceiver!" he raved. "And you are hers, I can smell it! How did the stink not choke me from the first moment?"

"Oh, you mean Mother," I said. "Yeah, a lot of us feel that way."

"I will keep your torn flesh under my fingernails and feed it to her once she has fallen," he snarled. I'd hoped he'd stay so enraged that he'd be incapable of dueling, but this was a Mythic I was facing. No such luck. He had plenty of Source and he went to work with a will.

He focused the new summons to take my Root Imp out of the air. I growled. I had to get that one off the field quick before he could start using that nasty Pay ability on me.

"She stole my kill and then stole the card that was the entire point of coming to this cursed city!" Targu'Thal bellowed. "My rage will never die."

"Get in line, buddy," I grunted. My Ghastly had expired, but I was able to get on my Plate and go in swinging.

I wanted my Talisman something fierce, but I still hadn't come across it. All my best cards were hiding from me, and I needed to get a move on before this fella got too frisky to handle. He let his Bloodmage block my attacking Bog Imp, no doubt hoping to keep it alive, and blocked me out of hand. I'd expected it, though, and had an answer that would finish the Bloodmage.

Using the Spell cost me my one Demon Marauder out of hand as well as a Wildfire and my Ravening Hatchling, but it was a worthwhile trade. Dammit, I'm never getting my other Marauder back now that Rathamon is dead and his cards are in the Twins' hands. I'm gonna miss that bastard. I couldn't tell the two apart, honestly, but they were both such gleeful little murder demons that I felt the one's lack.

"I will hunt down every living soul that has ever held the gaze of Yveda the Fluid and slaughter them all," he growled. "No one steals from me without paying for it."

"I thought Chaos was all about being in the moment," I said.

"Even this she has stolen from me," he howled, looking up toward the stands.

"Why you telling me about it?" I said. "You've had her there in the room with you this whole time."

"The centaurs restrained me! Muzzled me! She sat and laughed." He glowered at me. "I will hear that laugh until I die." He summoned more Souls.

He kept the Orc back, but the hulking Half Giant came lumbering at me. The Plate absorbed most of the damage when he hit me, but both I and my Hammer were focused, so he got away with it scot-free. I ditched my Spell Drinker to take the remainder. I hated to do it, but this guy didn't seem to run many Spells outside of the combo he'd used against dear old Dad, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

"Listen," I said to him. "I'm every bit as willing to see Yveda dead as you are. Concede the match and I'll make sure it happens."

He snorted. "How about I kill you and then her too? That sounds far better to me."

I couldn't really argue with that, so I let my cards do the talking. The new Nether I'd just put up was the strangely colored one I'd just developed, and I was surprised to see that when I devoted it I got 3 Nether instead of just 2. It was a pleasant little gift in the middle of a tough match, and it made it that much easier to get out one of my big guys.

"I live," roared Segruval. "Fear me!"

He towered a good sixty feet in the air – he was way bigger than he'd been before he'd gotten knocked down to Rare in my apotheosis match against Gerard. He looked positively gleeful to be such a force on the field.

"What's Oversize?" I called up to him as we both rushed in on the attack.

"It means I do half again as much damage when attacking and have half again as much health when defending," he boomed down at me. "Finally, an ability worthy of the woe I wish to bring!"

With his Half Giant devoted, Targu'Thal couldn't block my Mythic because of his Terror ability, and he was forced to take the damage himself. I didn't worry at all about the 2 damage the Orc did in return; that Regenerate 3 would heal it in no time. For my part, I Hunted the devoted Half Giant, killing him effortlessly and sending the remainder of the damage on through to Targu'Thal. The Orc general's hand was stripped down to nothing, and he lost a good number of cards from his Mind Home besides. I was starting to feel better about this match, no matter the constant drip of damage my Plate was doing each turn.

Targu'Thal, though, an ugly smile appeared on his face. "Taste your death, demonspawn," he laughed. He flexed, and one of the Chaos Sources over his head burst in a shower of blood. Suddenly Segruval, my Night Terror, stiffened. Ah, shit. He's using his Source Explosion ability. I tensed, waiting for him to attack me – the only possible targets were me and the Orc general – but instead he swung at Targu'Thal again.

"Bloody Flux!" he snarled.

I laughed. "That didn't quite turn out like you thought, huh?" I sent a silent prayer to the Twins that I would never have an ability that depended on randomness.

"I will feed you that mocking tongue before you die," he threatened. He had to discard both of the cards he'd just drawn. They must have been expensive ones, because he only shed a couple of cards from his Mind Home. He was running low.

Yveda came to hand, and I played him. His duplication would serve me well as protective fodder if the Orc got his big weapon… though his temporary Flying ability could throw a wrinkle in that plan. My other draw, though, eased my mind. Do I hold off? Or do I play it now?

I definitely play it now.

The starlight armor formed around me, and I sighed in relief. Five straight turns of invulnerability. If I couldn't beat this asshole in another five turns, I didn't deserve to win.

Both I and the Night Terror went in on the attack again, but another of Targu'Thal's Source exploded, and suddenly Segruval was swinging at me instead.

"Fortune's balls," I growled as his massive sword clanged off my untouchable body.

"Sorry," he boomed, sounding vaguely embarrassed.

My own hit landed on the Orc, who could do nothing but shed cards from his Mind Home. For once, he had no insult. He was nearing his end, I could tell.

For his turn, he drew two and nodded grimly. A mighty weapon misted into his hand.

"Well, shit," I said. "Bet you wish you'd gotten that earlier."

"The wind blows as it wishes," he said, sounding a little less crazed than earlier. Whether it was the sense of his own impending loss or something else, I'd never know, but either way he came in screaming and swung the great axe at me.

"What's the point?" I asked. The huge weapon clanged off of me just like the Night Terror's had earlier, and I felt not so much as a pinch. "Why not at least take down my demon?"

Segruval rumbled. "As much as I glory in blood and pain, I'd appreciate it if you didn't actively suggest that enemies attack me."

Targu'Thal didn't bother answering. He bounded back and watched expectantly, Durghast the Ender lying heavy in his hand, focused. I could attack without fear.

I had finally drawn my Talisman, but at this point I didn't think I'd need it. Once again, I went on the attack with my massive demon. "I don't know if you noticed what my Hammer does to Relics," I said as I approached. "You're not going to keep that weapon long enough to hurt me."

"Don't need to," he said with an enigmatic smile. His Chaos Source darkened and dipped.

The Hammer disappeared out of my hand, and in its place was the huge, unwieldy Durghast the Ender he'd been using. It was focused and unusable, though, about as dangerous as a bag of feathers for the moment. My Hammer appeared in his hand instead, and he swung it at my face with all his might.

The Hammer rang like a bell on my starlight armor, and the huge axe in my hand shivered into light and dust. I stared at it, dumbfounded, as Targu'Thal roared with laughter. "But the Hammer has to damage me in order for that to work," I protested.

"They love a good turnabout!" he said with glee, pointing to the indistinct figures of Fate and Fortune far overhead. "Didn't I tell you they love their little dramas?"

He was still laughing when Segruval's enormous foot landed on him. The sound of it landing was like thunder, and suddenly the laughter was gone. When the clawed appendage lifted away, the Orc's broken body lay in a bloody heap on the ground, legs twisted in the wrong direction and broken ribs jutting through the skin of his crushed torso.

I knelt beside him. Somehow, he took a bubbling breath.

"A good play," he whispered.

"It was," I agreed. "Bullshit that it worked, but a good play."

His wandering, unfocused eyes roved until they found me. "Kill her," he wheezed, blood dribbling from his lips.

I opened my mouth to reply, but he was already dead. A card floated from his mangled belt pouch and landed in my hand.

I didn't know how I could ever summon the card, but I burned with curiosity to speak with her. Why had she been out on that field that day? Did she know our father? Who was she?

YOU HAVE WON, a heavenly voice said. CHOOSE AN ELEVATION.

My focus immediately shifted, and I tucked away the card for later. My first instinct was to elevate the Sucking Void. It was my first Nether card, and I suspected that at Legendary it wouldn't destroy my deck at all. I wanted to have a Legendary that I could use. It was right there on my lips.

The old me would have done it. Gutter Hull jumped at the chance for the big swing, the quick kill. I was still that guy, but I'd learned a few things, too. My fights were only going to get more difficult, and having a more well-rounded deck with all my important pieces on a more or less even tier would win more matches for me than a Legendary would.

I sorted through the remaining cards in my Mind Home. I'd been waiting for this one the whole match and hadn't gotten it. "This one, please," I said, holding up a card. "I want this one elevated."

The cards in my hand all disappeared as the match formally ended, and I felt an odd buzz in my head as one of the cards there suddenly changed in weight. There was a new Mythic in my Mind Home. I smiled and bowed to the distant figures above. "Glory to the Twins," I said. For once, I really meant it.

Targu'Thal's body floated up and away as I walked toward the tunnel entrance that suddenly appeared behind me. I'd made it through the first round. There was lots more to do – lots of mean bastards I still had to somehow survive – but for the moment, I was going to go kiss Afi and show her my new card.

Everything else could wait for a bit.

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