Two weeks of travel condensed time into a strange blur of routine and anticipation. Jade had spent most of it in his cabin or the training rooms, avoiding the other passengers when possible and maintaining careful distance when it wasn't. The four Nexarion candidates had kept to themselves as well, their resentment simmering but never boiling over into open confrontation.
Now, standing at the main observation deck viewport as the Stellar Wind dropped out of FTL, Jade understood why this tournament was legendary.
"Holy shit," Lio breathed beside him.
The planet filled the viewport like a vision from a dream—or a nightmare, depending on perspective.
It was massive. Easily the size of Jupiter from Jade's previous life, a gas giant that had been terraformed through technology so advanced it bordered on divine. Four rings encircled the planet in perfect geometric alignment, each one glittering with what appeared to be thousands of orbital stations, docking facilities, and defensive platforms. The rings themselves seemed to shimmer with energy, creating bands of light that pulsed in rhythmic patterns.
The planet's surface—visible through breaks in the cloud layers—showed vast continents of what could only be artificial construction. Enormous structures rose from the surface like mountains made of metal and crystal, their peaks disappearing into the upper atmosphere. Cities sprawled across entire hemispheres, their lights visible even from orbital distance, creating patterns that looked like circuitry etched across the planet's face.
And everywhere were ships.
Thousands of vessels of every conceivable size and design filled the space around the planet. Sleek diplomatic transports like the Stellar Wind. Massive cargo haulers that dwarfed entire city blocks. Military cruisers bristling with weapons. Luxury yachts that probably cost more than Nexarion's entire GDP. Personal craft. Shuttle swarms. Transport convoys.
The traffic was so dense that automated flight control systems had to coordinate every movement, creating lanes and holding patterns that turned orbital space into a three-dimensional highway system of organized chaos.
"Welcome to Kronathis Prime," the ship's automated voice announced. "Tournament World. Please remain seated as we await docking clearance. Current queue time: forty-three minutes."
"Forty-three minutes," Lio repeated, his voice slightly dazed. "Just to get clearance to dock. How many people are here?"
"Millions," Niamh said quietly, appearing at Jade's other side. Her expression was carefully controlled, but Jade could see the awe she was trying to hide. "The Tenday Tournament draws participants from thousands of planets across dozens of galaxies. And that's just the fighters. Add in support staff, spectators, merchants, officials..."
She trailed off, shaking her head.
Jade said nothing, his silver eyes tracking the movement of ships around them. Even from this distance, he could see the disparity in wealth and power.
Some vessels were works of art—hulls that gleamed with precious metals, engine signatures that spoke of cutting-edge technology, designs that prioritized aesthetics as much as function. Those ships moved through the traffic lanes with easy authority, other craft giving them space, their docking queues clearly prioritized.
Other ships—like the Stellar Wind—were functional and well-maintained but clearly middle-tier. Respectable but unremarkable.
And then there were the vessels that looked like they'd barely survived the journey. Patched hulls. Mismatched components. Engines that sputtered with barely-contained instability. Those ships were shunted to the longest queues, their docking clearances delayed, their presence tolerated but not welcomed.
Jade had a sinking feeling he knew which category Nexarion would fall into once they actually landed.
As the Stellar Wind began its slow approach toward the docking lanes, more details of the planet became visible. The four rings weren't just defensive platforms—they were entire ecosystems of orbital infrastructure. Hotels. Casinos. Training facilities. Entertainment districts. Each ring seemed to cater to a different tier of wealth, with the innermost ring closest to the planet gleaming with the kind of opulence that made Jade's previous life's most extravagant crimelords look like paupers.
The outermost ring, by contrast, was clearly functional rather than decorative. Basic docking facilities. Cargo processing. The kind of place where people went because they had to, not because they wanted to.
"Beautiful," one of the other passengers murmured—a woman Jade didn't recognize, probably heading to the tournament as a spectator or merchant rather than participant. "I've never seen anything like it."
She wasn't wrong. Even acknowledging the blatant wealth disparity and the political implications, Kronathis Prime was genuinely breathtaking. A monument to what could be achieved when resources, technology, and ambition aligned.
It was also, Jade suspected, a very deliberate message: This is what power looks like. This is what you're competing for. This is the world that waits for those strong enough to claim it.
The forty-three minute wait stretched into fifty-seven—apparently traffic was heavier than projected—before the Stellar Wind finally received docking clearance. The ship maneuvered through the lanes with careful precision, guided by automated systems that coordinated with thousands of other vessels in a ballet of organized chaos.
They were directed to the third ring—middle-tier facilities, as expected. Not the worst, but nowhere near the best. The docking bay they approached was functional and clean, but lacked the artistic flourishes visible on the inner ring facilities. Just utilitarian design meant to process ships efficiently.
"All passengers, prepare for docking procedures," the automated voice announced. "Please gather your belongings and proceed to the main disembarkation deck. Welcome to Kronathis Prime."
The docking process took another twenty minutes—the ship carefully guided into its assigned bay by magnetic clamps and tractor beams, the airlock sealing with a hiss of equalizing pressure. When the boarding ramp finally lowered, Jade felt a flutter of anticipation mixed with wariness.
This was it. The tournament that would determine so much.
Jade pulled his cloak tighter and raised the hood, shadows falling across his face in a way that obscured his features without completely hiding them. Niamh had insisted on the cloak—practical protection against both the elements and unwanted attention. The dark fabric was well-made but not ostentatious, allowing him to blend into crowds while still maintaining some mystery.
They gathered their bags—Lio checking his belongings one final time with paranoid thoroughness that made Amara proud wherever she was—and joined the other passengers heading toward disembarkation.
Revik and the other three alphas were ahead of them in line, their expressions set and determined. They'd clearly spent the two-week journey psyching themselves up for what was coming, and now carried themselves with the aggressive confidence of people trying to prove they belonged here.
Jade hoped for their sake that confidence was warranted. This tournament was going to eat the unprepared alive.
The boarding ramp lowered, and Jade got his first real look at Kronathis Prime's interior.
The docking bay opened into a massive arrivals terminal that could have swallowed Nexarion's largest cargo facility ten times over. The ceiling soared hundreds of feet overhead, supported by pillars that looked like they'd been carved from single pieces of crystalline material that pulsed with internal light. The floor was polished stone—not synthetic material, but actual stone, probably imported from some planet where it occurred naturally and was worth more than most awakeners would earn in a lifetime.
Holographic displays floated through the air, showing tournament schedules, facility maps, and advertisements for various services. Automated guide drones zipped through the crowd, helping lost visitors navigate the overwhelming space. And the people—
There were thousands of them. Tens of thousands, maybe. A river of humanity flowing through the terminal in organized chaos, heading toward various exits and transport stations. Every skin tone, every style of dress, every imaginable variant of human appearance mixed together in a tapestry that made Jade's head spin.
And the wealth disparity was even more obvious here than it had been in orbit.
Some arrivals moved through the terminal surrounded by entourages of servants and guards, their clothing clearly worth small fortunes, their bearing radiating the kind of casual authority that came from never having wanted for anything. They didn't walk so much as glide, the crowd parting around them automatically, automated drones prioritizing their paths.
Others—the majority—moved with the determined efficiency of people who knew they weren't important but had jobs to do anyway. Merchants hauling goods. Support staff coordinating with their fighters. Officials checking manifests and processing paperwork.
And then there were those like the Nexarion group—arrivals from backwater planets that nobody cared about, trying to navigate a world so far beyond their experience that every step felt like potential humiliation.
"Stay close," Niamh said quietly, her hand on Jade's shoulder. "Don't get separated in this crowd."
They moved as a unit through the terminal, following the holographic markers toward the "Tournament Participant Processing" area. The path took them past luxury shops selling equipment and artifacts that cost more than Jade's entire shop back home. Past restaurants where a single meal probably exceeded most people's monthly food budget. Past entertainment venues advertising services Jade didn't even want to contemplate.
And everywhere, people stared.
At individuals who stood out. The wealthy arrivals with their entourages. The particularly striking awakeners whose power radiated like heat. The beautiful people whose appearance alone drew eyes.
Jade was very, very glad for his hood.
Even with his face shadowed, he could feel eyes tracking him occasionally. His height—or lack thereof, really, since male omegas tended toward slender builds—combined with the graceful way he moved drew attention despite his best efforts. The cloak helped, but it wasn't invisibility.
"Jade," Lio murmured, leaning close. "People are looking."
"I know," Jade said quietly.
"Should we—"
"Just keep walking."
They passed a group of arrivals from what was clearly a wealthy core world—six awakeners surrounded by a dozen servants, all wearing matching uniforms in rich colors. One of them, a tall alpha male with aristocratic features, glanced at their group as they passed.
His eyes caught on Jade, lingering for a moment too long. Jade saw the man's expression shift—curiosity, assessment, interest. Then his gaze moved to the Nexarion group's worn but functional travel gear, their lack of entourage, the way they carried their own bags.
The interest vanished, replaced by dismissive indifference. Not worth his time.
Jade felt something cold settle in his chest. Not anger, exactly. Just... awareness. This was how it was going to be. Constantly assessed. Constantly judged. Constantly having to navigate the social hierarchies of a world where his planet's reputation preceded him.
They finally reached the processing area—a large section of the terminal dedicated to checking in tournament participants and assigning them to lodging facilities. Long queues snaked toward dozens of processing stations, each staffed by harried-looking officials dealing with the endless stream of arrivals.
A floating holographic sign directed them toward "Category C Processing" based on their planet's classification. Jade didn't need to ask what Category A or B looked like—he could see them in the distance, separate sections with much shorter queues and much more attentive staff.
The Category C line moved slowly. Very slowly. They stood for nearly an hour, shuffling forward incrementally as officials processed each group with bureaucratic thoroughness.
Around them, other Category C arrivals showed varying degrees of frustration and resignation. Most were from backwater planets like Nexarion—places that sent participants more out of tradition than any real expectation of success. A few had the desperate energy of people who saw the tournament as their only chance to escape poverty. Others just looked tired, like they'd already accepted defeat before the fighting even started.
Revik and his group stood in a cluster ahead of them in line, their earlier confidence visibly eroding as they took in their surroundings. Kessa—one of the female alphas—kept glancing at the Category A section with poorly-hidden envy.
Finally, they reached the front of the line.
The processing official was a beta woman who looked like she'd processed a thousand groups already today and had a thousand more to go. Her expression was professionally neutral but deeply weary.
Revik's group went first, the official processing them with mechanical efficiency. Names, ages, secondary genders noted without interest. They received their housing assignments with barely-concealed disappointment and moved aside.
Then it was Jade's turn.
"Planet of origin?" the official asked without looking up from her terminal.
"Nexarion," Niamh said. "Heliaster Galaxy, Aurion Sector."
The official's fingers flew across her terminal, pulling up their information. "Participant name?"
"Jade Fraunces."
"Age?"
"Seventeen."
"Secondary gender?"
"Beta," Jade said flatly.
The official's eyes flicked up briefly—a moment of doubt crossing her features as she actually looked at him—before settling back to professional neutrality and making a note. "Retainers?"
"Two," Niamh said. "Niamh Fraunces and Lio Fraunces."
More typing. More processing. The official pulled up a display showing available lodging assignments and frowned slightly.
"All Nexarion participants are assigned to Housing Block Seven, Section D." She handed Niamh a datapad with their assignments. "Rooms 734 through 740. Your identification badges will grant you access. Dining facilities are communal. Training facilities are available on a reservation basis. Tournament schedule will be transmitted to your badges once initial brackets are determined."
"Thank you," Niamh said, accepting the datapad.
They moved away from the processing station, and Lio immediately pulled up the lodging information on the datapad.
His face fell. "Oh. Oh no."
"What?" Jade asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew.
"Housing Block Seven," Lio said quietly. "Section D. That's..." He showed them the facility map.
Housing Block Seven was on the far edge of the residential district. The very, very far edge. About as far from the central tournament facilities as you could get while still technically being in the participant housing area.
And based on the brief description, "Housing Block Seven, Section D" was a polite way of saying "the worst accommodations we could legally get away with providing."
"Of course," Niamh said with resignation. "Why would we expect anything different?"
They made their way toward the transport station that would take them to the housing districts. The journey required boarding a mag-lev train that ran through the residential areas—an efficient transit system that probably cost more to build than Nexarion's entire infrastructure budget.
The train car they boarded was clean and functional, but noticeably less luxurious than some of the other cars they'd seen. And as they traveled through the residential districts, the disparity in housing quality became painfully obvious.
Blocks One through Three were visible in the distance—elegant structures that looked more like resort hotels than participant housing. Crystalline towers with private training facilities. Gardens. Luxury amenities. The kind of places where arrivals from wealthy core worlds would stay, surrounded by comfort and every possible convenience.
Blocks Four and Five were still nice—solid, well-maintained facilities with good amenities even if they lacked the outright opulence of the inner blocks.
Block Six was functional. Basic but adequate.
Block Seven...
Block Seven looked like an afterthought. A utilitarian structure that had been built quickly and cheaply to handle overflow from more desirable housing. The exterior was plain gray composite, the windows small and uniform, the overall design screaming "we met minimum requirements and nothing more."
They disembarked at the Block Seven station and made their way through corridors that were clean but distinctly institutional. The walls were unadorned. The lighting was adequate but harsh. The atmosphere was the architectural equivalent of a sigh.
Section D was, predictably, the worst section in Block Seven. Furthest from amenities. Smallest rooms. Least maintenance attention.
They found their assigned rooms and keyed open the doors.
The accommodations were... exactly what Jade had expected.
Small. Barely large enough for a bed, a tiny desk, and minimal storage. The bathroom was a cramped ensuite that made efficient use of space by sacrificing all comfort. The walls were thin enough that they could hear muffled sounds from neighboring rooms. The window looked out onto the exterior wall of another housing block, offering a spectacular view of gray composite material.
It was clean and functional. It met technical requirements for participant housing.
It was also, without question, a clear message about where Nexarion ranked in the tournament hierarchy.
Lio stood in his doorway, staring at his room with an expression of profound disappointment. "Well. This is... something."
"It's fine," Jade said, dropping his bag on the narrow bed in his own room. "We're not here for the accommodations."
"I know, but..." Lio gestured helplessly at the cramped space. "We've stayed in nicer cargo holds."
Niamh appeared in her doorway, her expression carefully neutral. "It's adequate. We'll make do."
From down the corridor, they could hear other arrivals from similarly low-ranked planets discovering their accommodations. Disappointed muttering. Angry complaints that went nowhere. Resigned acceptance.
Welcome to the Tenday Tournament. Where even the housing assignments reminded you of your place in the hierarchy.
Jade moved to his window and looked out at the narrow view of the adjacent building. Somewhere out there, in the better housing blocks, arrivals from wealthy planets were settling into luxury suites. Enjoying amenities. Being treated like the valuable assets they represented.
Here in Block Seven, Section D, they were being reminded that they were charity cases. Participants whose planets barely warranted inclusion, tolerated because tradition demanded all sectors send representatives but not actually expected to accomplish anything meaningful.
Jade felt that cold determination settling deeper in his chest.
.....