“C’mon, Daddy! Why not?” Lera whined.

  “This whole thing was about building yourself and building camaraderie with people that you will, hopefully, work together with in the future to protect your planet from threats. It is not for the stoking of your ego.”

  “What do you mean? It’ll be a fair competition,” she whined harder. “Competition’s good. It’ll make us want to work harder in the future. Plus, we’ll have it at the end so anyone that gets butthurt over losing to me can’t be a butt hole about it since they’ll have to go home right away.”

  “That’s why not. It’s not a competition when you already know your numbers.” He patted the tablet hanging from the holster at his side.

  “You know all ours, but we don’t know each others.”

  “Like I don’t notice you all watching each other closely. I know you’re keeping track. Like ninety percent of the others. The other ten percent are simply more mature or literal children.”

  “You mean Glade and Katyusha.” She shoot a smug his way. “Glade isn’t, but Katyusha’s got a whole section of her journal just for everyone else’s numbers.”

  He sighed at that.

  “Send the obvious spies, so that I’ll miss the true one.”

  “Face it, Daddy. You’re soft on kids. Always have been, always will be.”

  “You do realize that you’re no longer a kid?”

  “Ah! Maybe chronologically, but I’ll always be your baby!” Her grin could’ve smugged the entire world.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that there will be no competition.”

  His daughter crossed her arms and frowned in a way that scrunched the bridge of her nose, bringing him back thirty years to the same exact look.

  He couldn’t help but smile at the memories.

  “Why are you so eager to compete when you already know you’ve got the best numbers on most of the exercises?”

  “Because— wait! What do you mean ‘most’?”

  “Listen, I’m willing to hear you out and if there’s a good reason that creates more benefits for the most number of people then I might consider it. But if you can’t…”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek before letting out an exasperated sigh more befitting of a teenager than a young woman.

  Still, it was nice to see her showing more signs of life in the last week and half in one consecutive stretch of days since they had lost Boy over two years ago.

  That first year had been rough on Lera.

  It had been rough on all of them, but her especially.

  She had built up a skewed conception of the dangers they faced by virtue of his and Wytchraven’s apparent unassailable natures.

  They had always triumphed over the threats they had faced. No matter how powerful.

  To lose her favorite cousin, one she had secretly and not so secretly worshiped, had crushed Lera’s worldview.

  Two years to climb out of the depths of her sadness and despair.

  And yet he still caught an occasional flash of those constant companions bubbling up to the surface in her, in the far off stare, in glistening eyes, in a fist clenched hard enough to crush titanium.

  However, the desire to crush the other trainees in competition was not good for her emotional healing.

  There was, however, a way to help her and all the trainees, even the annoying ones and spying ones.

  Lera was right about that after all.

  He could never get mad, truly mad at actual kids.

  A grin slowly rose like a kraken from the depths.

  Lera’s eyes widened.

  “Oh no! The evil dad smile…”

  “You’re right. A competition could be good for you. But not against each other. You will face… me!”

  He cackled then.

  Admittedly a poor copy of his wife and her witches coven tradition.

  His daughter’s gaze grew wary.

  “What’s the challenge?”

  “Not a spar or mock battle. You’ve picked up and put down heavy weights. You’ve pushed and pulled stone blocks. Our challenge will be legendary!” He pumped a fist into the air and held it there while his daughter rolled her eyes and went to get a drink of water from her fridge.

  …

  The sun shined.

  Eron eased up the anti-surveillance measures.

  The last day of the training arc was going to be like those old school sports days back when he was a kid. When parents got to go and cheer them all on. He was going to do it anyways even if a bunch of parents and assorted mentor figures hadn’t complained once they had somehow learned of the events.

  It had taken him about thirty seconds to decide on attire.

  He had briefly considered going shirt-less to better showcase his magnificent body for all the distance-watchers, but decided against it because he was shy.

  Thus, he had settled on the standard skin-tight workout gear.

  The closer to the skin the more protected clothing was from the consequences of fighting and, he didn’t want to tempt fate, but an end of training arc surprise monster battle breaking out wasn’t something he could completely discount despite all the security measures he and others had worked hard to put in place and maintain throughout the two weeks.

  The right kind of battle and he’d end up sans clothing, which would’ve just been sooo embarrassing.

  It might’ve been worth it just to metaphorically ‘kill’ his daughter from second-hand embarrassment.

  His one regret was that somehow, someone had managed to turn the short shorts he had gotten just for his douchebag coach persona into ash.

  He should have put a lock on his footlocker. Then again someone had a pet fae ferret-thing that could flit in and out of physical reality, which was great for getting into locked places and stealing things. Should’ve been back home in Wytchraven’s slice of the Fae Realm, bu that hadn’t stopped someone before.

  “C’mon, don’t be scared, homie.” He regarded Captain Patriot, who was dressed for battle.

  She had her standard loadout, which was what the standard old American soldier wore. The one key difference was that her white power glowed faintly through every stitch of clothing and armor plating.

  “I’m not here to play games.”

  “You sure? It’d be a good team and morale builder if you give your peeps a shot at you in something competitive. Give you a chance to settle the hierarchy question. I mean, that’s not really my thing, but I know how important rigid societal hierarchies are for you Americans. I know you don’t train with them.”

  “So many of those things you just said aren’t true.”

  “The rigidity? Sure, keep telling yourself that. But the training stuff? We all know you don’t do one on one or one on many spars.”

  “How? Are you watching me from outer space?”

  “Nah… people talk, you know. They’re all, like, ‘Captain Patriot’s too stuck up to share her fight wisdom’ or ‘Captain Patriot’s just an old lady dinosaur scared of the new, much cooler dinosaurs leaving her in the past’. At least, that’s what I heard.”

  “You are a child.”

  He tapped his temple.

  “That’s one of my little tricks to hold on to that good, old humanity. If I’m not diligent I might start using terms like ‘baselines’ and ‘basic humans’.”

  “Yeah. That wouldn’t be good.”

  “So… when you look at your fellow Earthians is it like looking into a mirror or is it like looking at hairless apes?”

  She turned her blindfolded, white eye holes his way like aiming twin-linked laser cannons.

  “Hey! Don’t you turn up your white power at me.”

  “I’m not going to dignify you with any sort of response.” She turned away and with unshakable control ignored him.

  He chuckled to himself and floated up to take in the preparations for the Games.

  Many exercise stations had been modified. Circles and lines had been carved into the desert floor. Someone had carved one of a giant deformed banana with a pair of giant oranges at its base. He left it alone because it made him laugh.

  He watched and listened to his trainees plotting.

  Olive poked at Hiroki with a giggle.

  “So, like, just turn down your aura or whatevs!”

  “Apologies, Olive-san, but I’m unable.” Hiroki bowed for some reason.

  Eron tried not to hold their youth-ness against them. He vaguely remembered being that annoying once. Some would say he was still annoying, but he ignored those voices because they were factually incorrect.

  “How’s your range?” Kelci said.

  Hiroki regarded the long, thick cables they were going to use for the tug contest of strength and endurance. Multiple tug-type contests, really.

  Eron didn’t want any youths complaining about fairness and such, so he went wide.

  “At my strongest?” Hiroki said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Those aren’t long enough for, um, everyone to participate.”

  “If you go max power?”

  “Yes, Kelci-san.”

  “That’s easy!” Olive smiled. “We just bench the weakest ones. Or, like, do split teams? That’s okay, right, Eron!” she screamed up at him.

  “Whatever you all want to do! Everyone is getting a shot at whatever event they want!” he screamed down.

  His phone rang.

  “Hello, hello. This is Eron. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Your dementia is showing, old man. Have you lost your ability to read?”

  “Ah, yes! I’d recognize that pleasant voice anytime! Little Lily! How is my favorite little queen?”

  “Wonderful! I am hoping to be thoroughly entertained for the next few hours.”

  “Yup. So many youths are about to be thoroughly embarrassed.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Good. My boy is in need of humbling.”

  “Damn youths,” he nodded sagely since she was probably watching. “I’ll make sure to rub his face in the dirt a little.”

  “Thank you. The crown would also not be averse to a little feather plucking as well. Gentle feather plucking.”

  “That’s going a bit too far, don’t you think?”

  “Bah! Soft as always. I shall speak with you again, Eron. Make my little prince work.”

  “Till next time and he’s been working hard. So, maybe give him a pat or two on the head when he gets back.”

  “Soft!”

  She hung up first as usual.

  It was probably important for the Queen of London to get to hang up first. He guessed it polled well or something dumb like that.

  Politics, he metaphorically spat, so dumb.

  Now… how was he going to rub Gryphy’s face in the desert?

  None of the events included wrestling or grappling of any kind.

  A question for later.

  “This is simple. You are included in one and not in another.” Ice Bear tried not to growl at the youths as he jabbed a finger toward Hiroki like it was a dagger.

  Eron sympathized.

  It must’ve been tough for the big, bear of a man to spend more time around more people than he had in years.

  Plus, the people were annoying youths.

  Still, Ice Bear showed great restraint.

  Probably saw the finish line in sight. All he had to do was grit his slightly fanging teeth and bear it.

  Eron chuckled.

  “You resist cold,” Kelci shot Ice Bear a nod.

  “Well, duh.” Olive grinned. “He picked the name for a reason.”

  “I did not pick—” he closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. I can handle his coldness.”

  “Yeah, Hiroki’s a total tsundere!” Olive giggled.

  “Alright. I’m thinking Hiroki anchors the cable at the end. Ice bear is next as close to Hiroki as he can handle or maybe Lera—”

  “Sorry, Kelci, but I’m at the very front.” Lera gazed up and narrowed her eyes in a solar glare, minus the ‘solar’ part.

  “No other powers, honey! Only strength related stuff!” Eron yelled down.

  “But, Hiroki—”

  “An unavoidable effect of reaching his maximum strength.”

  His daughter probably wanted to blast him with some solar eye beams as a distraction at a key point in the struggle.

  He floated down and grabbed the Threnium-weave cable on his side of the line he had drawn in the sand. A red flag tied around the cable fluttered in the sudden wind. Someone in one of the trainees’ entourages had a sense of drama.

  “Looks like you’ve had enough planning time.”

  Lera stepped up to the second line in the sand and picked up the cable, instantly pulling it taut and moving the red flag closer to her.

  “You’re going down, old man!” She looked back to the other trainees. “Let’s wipe this old man’s smug smile off his face! Let’s fucking go!”

  “Excuse me, young lady?”

  “You said bad words are okay when we’re lifting, Dad. I recorded it and everything.” She gave him a sweet head tilt and smile like she always did when she was trying to butter him up for something she wanted.

  It was downright nostalgic, making him smile.

  Hiroki reluctantly went blue oni, dropping the temperature instantly. Enough that the heating crystals on the nearby light poles turned on.

  Ominous music suddenly began emanating from somewhere Eron couldn’t locate, which meant magic as the young blue oni trudged over to pick up the end of the cable about a hundred feet away from Lera’s spot.

  Ice Bear trudged even harder to a spot about twenty feet in front of Hiroki.

  A large gap opened up to where Kelci argued, briefly, with Mo.

  The elephant-type hybrid was a teen, but he was already bigger than the hippopotamus-type hybrid.

  He tried to use that to intimidate, but he was a callow youth with barely any real experience going up against the real nightmares. While Kelci was also a youth, but an older and experienced one with many training sessions and missions under Cal’s, frankly, too-difficult methods.

  Mo pouted as Kelci shooed him forward and directed the remaining trainees to their spots.

  Tiger took the spot ahead of him.

  Katyusha gulped down a handful of Russian soil. The teen was one of the youngest, but at six feet tall she didn’t look out of place amongst the others until one saw her baby face.

  Olive skipped past the scowling girl with a happy wave that failed to elicit anything but a deeper scowl.

  Gryphy went the last. Right behind Lera.

  Eron made eye contact and the young winged man took as large a step back as he could without getting his broad brown wings in Olive’s face.

  “No wings, Gryphon Prince,” he warned.

  “No sir. I mean, I won’t, sir!”

  “Good kid. Don’t let me catch any of you cheating.” He tugged the cable back to get the red flag in the exact center between the two lines separating each side.

  Ten feet of space.

  A simple tug of one wrist for Eron to get the flag the five feet over his line.

  But that wouldn’t have been fun for anyone.

  Not his trainees, him or the watchers scattered all over the planet.

  His phone rang.

  “Yo, Eron,” Dayana said.

  “Emergency?” He cursed silently.

  “Yeah, huge one. I’m gonna need you to win in less than a minute, but more than thirty seconds.”

  “Are… are you betting on this?”

  “On, like, all of it. Worldwide too. So help me out. It’ll get one over on all our frenemies.”

  “You know they’re all going to be using magic to make sure there won’t be any fixing. And who started this gambling junk?”

  He certainly hadn’t.

  Gambling was terrible. Always had been. A way to separate wealth from the gullible to place into the hands of the shrewd.

  “Shit. Got to go. We never had this conversation.”

  “Any day now, Dad.” Lera rolled her eyes.

  “Alright.” He pointed to the space over the flag where a holographic countdown began at ten. “On zero and the bell… we pull. Ready?”

  “We’re taking you to down town, old man!” She grinned like a feral beast.

  The countdown ended.

  The bell rang.

  A devious attack struck with the caress of tickling black feathers and a witch’s whispered words promising the heights of pleasure if he only forgot about his hands around the cable and focused instead on the hands around his—.

  He had expected outside attacks.

  The chance to embarrass him for once was too good to pass up.

  He had even expected a betrayal most foul.

  Raven’s feathers clouded his vision.

  The Atacama Desert landscape and the Andes Mountains in the distance disappeared under the softly whispering black clouds.

  He locked in instantly, digging his shoes into the ground and pulling just enough to keep the cable from moving.

  The cable had moved at the sudden surge of strength from the other side.

  His wife’s magic had given them a split-second and perhaps a foot and a half of flag travel toward their line.

  How much were they pulling?

  It felt like somewhere between about five hundred and seven hundred tons worth.

  Most of that was Lera and Hiroki.

  “Nice try, sweetie!”

  Sweet nothings whispered so many promises.

  “Our daughter has to earn it. She’s not a little girl anymore.”

  …

  “Well, I was the one that wanted you to magic her to stay younger just a bit longer.”

  He had only been half-joking about that.

  …

  “How long have I been in this thing?”

  “Long enough.”

  The raven’s feather’s vanished to reveal a group of grunting, straining youths tugging on a cable.

  The red flag fluttered in the dramatic wind that whipped up a nice, gentle whirlwind that made hair dance in ways that would’ve made great still photos.

  It felt like it had been long enough, so he pulled. Gently.

  The red flag crossed his line to the curses from his daughter and the gasps of the others.

  While the trainees punched air or the ground or tried to get their wind back he sauntered over to the official scorekeeper.

  He had assigned the task to Doctor Vindaction Nov 68720, but they had immediately delegated it one of their assistants.

  “How long did that take?”

  “Three minutes, twenty-six seconds.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  He wondered what Wytchraven had just won.

  At least that was going to be his wife’s only interference.

  She knew to be subtle and circumspect.

  Winning everything would’ve drawn unwanted attention.

  “Alright, next team up!”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Lera’s jaw clenched in that cute, stubborn baby daughter way as she still kept her hold on the cable.

  There were no cheat attacks as he won quicker the second time.

  Another short break before the next event.

  …

  “I don’t wanna. I feel stupid. Stupid and weak!” Glade whisper-yelled at Lera.

  She had found him hiding behind one of the nearby magic tents before the next event.

  “Yeah, but,” she shrugged, “it’s not, like, your fault.”

  The boy’s power armor did the opposite of what power armor normally did.

  It kept him from exerting his true strength. Kept him at a nice and normal level for a twelve year old Earthian male. Without it, Glade could kill himself through simple movement. His normal organs couldn’t handle the superhuman strength imparted by the magic runes carved into his bones and tattooed into his muscles. Heart attack was the most likely outcome.

  “Dude, Glade. This is your beginning.” She ruffled his hair like a little brother or perhaps a sad puppy. “We all start weak and useless. I did. So did my dad,” she glared, “every single person out there.” She lowered her voice. “Hiroki was a cripple. I’m not supposed to say that though. He had like one leg. And then boom! Oni powers. You don’t even need oni spirits from another world. You already have magic runes in you.”

  “But I can’t use them or I’ll die.”

  “You can’t use them for now.” She nodded sagely. “Trust me. No one cares if you’re weak or whatever. Everyone in Second Asgard watching this are probably super-excited and ultra-jealous that you’re getting to do all this stuff! Think of the memories! When you look back on this do you want to remember you trying your hardest and having fun? Or hiding behind a tent, feeling bad?” She took him by the shoulder and guided him back. “C’mon! Let’s kick my dad’s ass!”

  They did not, in fact, kick his ass.

  Eron held a cable in each hand.

  The event tested his endurance against the trainees’ explosive strength and endurance.

  All he had to do was stand like a pillar or, more accurately, a mountain holding the cables while they pulled, trying to get him to let go.

  Glade pulled with all the strength of a normal twelve year old boy.

  Lera pulled just behind him.

  Others filled out the spaces.

  The other cable was anchored by Gryphy, who flapped his wings occasionally, which Eron let go.

  A much weaker Hiroki had to forego oni form as a result of a lack of cable space and a need to take a break.

  They grunted and roared.

  Kelci barked out random words.

  Coded signals to vary their pulling strength and slackening in a failed attempt to throw him off-balance.

  “Kids! You’ve only got five minutes left. Pull harder! Pull better!”

  He tried not to laugh.

  That would’ve rubbed it in too much.

  …

  The events lasted until near sunset.

  Outside spells and Skills came in sporadically, trying to distract him, but they couldn’t penetrate the skin-tight field lining his body.

  The worst was a vague tickling sensation over his taint. He sensed that it was some kind of itching spell or Skill.

  Perhaps, surprise hemorrhoids?

  Eron pushed a huge stone cube the size of a small hill across the desert in a race against the youths pushing their own smaller stone cube.

  He won, but made it closer than half the stone’s length.

  He won the pulling event.

  They threw rocks ranging in size from baseballs to a small hill.

  The latter shook the ground and created a mushroom cloud of dust and debris a few miles away.

  He won again, but he made it a point to also have the trainees measure their accomplishments against themselves from two weeks ago.

  They raced across the desert carrying stupid amounts of weight in several different, but equally stupid ways.

  …

  “I’m tired.” Lera said between gasps.

  His daughter lay staring up at the encroaching gloom.

  “Good workout, my baby solar tyrant?”

  “Next time, old man.”

  He floated away, leaving the doctor to look over their patients.

  All in all, he had to say that the training arc was a success.

  Every participant showed noticeable gains.

  Friendships had been made.

  Rivalries, hopefully friendly ones, had been begun.

  They left more confident then they had entered.

  “What’re you going to do next?” Captain Patriot said.

  He shrugged.

  “Yeah, I don’t know if I’ve got the time to make this a regular thing. But, I don’t have to run it.”

  “Something like this needs someone strong enough or respected enough to keep them all in line.”

  “Damn shame then. I am, literally, the only person that exists, has existed or ever will exist that fits that description.”

  “You beat up a bunch of kids. Don’t get cocky.”

  “That’s a good point. Maybe the next one will be for adults. Veterans. You’ll be, like, fifth on the list.”

  “Thanks,” she said flatly.