Eight hours before the first firework was set to launch over the Seaside Thunderdome, I stood on the freshly laid sod of the Eden Training Field.

  It was a beautiful morning. The sun was rising over Southfield, hitting the dew on the grass. The field was a regulation sized arena surrounded by aluminum bleachers that were currently under the weight of five thousand citizens.

  This was the first true public work of the Eden Nation.

  When the government pulled out, the IRS went with them. The tax vacuum was instant. But civilization requires upkeep. Grace had implemented the "Eden Contribution"—a flat tax on the dividends and income of every citizen in our territory.

  We poured it right back here. It was a statement: We take from you, but we give to you.

  I looked at the drones hovering overhead. Every news outlet in Detroit was here. The cameras were recording a political event.

  "Nervous?" Bells asked.

  He stood ten feet away from me and wore a Eden tactical vest over a t-shirt.

  "Why would I be?" I asked, resting my hand on the hilt of my Verdant Jade Bamboo Sword.

  "Because you're the President," Bells said, cracking his neck. "And if you lose, it looks bad on the brochures."

  A few days ago, he had challenged Joakim, the leader of the Second Division. Bells needed to defeat Joakim to qualify for the right to challenge me.

  He had dismantled the music cultivator in under three minutes.

  Now, Bells was Realm 3. The same as me.

  Bells didn't fear me. He followed orders because the pay was good and the food was heavenly. But respect? Respect was earned in blood.

  "I won't lose," I said.

  Internally, I was calculating.

  I was a Sprout Stage cultivator and my stats were massive. My regeneration made me effectively immortal in a prolonged fight. But my Path... my Path was fundamentally non-combative.

  I was a gardener. My power came from the soil, from the Mandrakes, from the Bamboo. Outside of my garden, I was just a guy with a sword and really fast regeneration.

  I am a porcupine, I realized. I can hurt you if you touch me. I can outlast you. But I cannot hunt you.

  "The winner represents Eden at the Tournament," I announced to the crowd. "This is how we decide the hierarchy here."

  The crowd cheered. They loved the theater of it.

  Bells smirked. "Ready when you are."

  A drone hovered between us, projecting a holographic countdown.

  3...

  I gripped my sword. My plan was simple. Turtle. Let him exhaust himself against my armor and wait for a mistake. Grind him down. It was the only way I knew how to fight.

  2...

  Bells shifted his stance. The air pressure on the field dropped. My ears popped.

  1...

  FIGHT.

  I went to draw my sword.

  It was a reflex I had practiced thousands of times. The bamboo blade began to slide out of the sheath.

  He rushed me.

  He moved faster than sound. One moment he was ten feet away, the next he was inside my guard.

  He grabbed me by the collar of my Verdant Jade Armor.

  "Up," Bells whispered.

  My stomach dropped into my shoes as gravity reversed. A sonic boom shattered the windows of the nearby cars as we rocketed into the sky.

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  One second. Two seconds.

  The air turned freezing cold and the sounds of the crowd vanished, replaced by the howling of the wind.

  I opened my eyes.

  We were floating.

  I looked down. The Eden Training Field was a postage stamp and the crowd was a smear of colors. We were easily a thousand feet in the air.

  Bells was holding me by the chest plate with one hand, hovering effortlessly on wings of condensed air.

  I dangled there, my sword half-drawn, my legs kicking at nothing but empty sky.

  "I..." I stammered.

  "You can regenerate," Bells shouted over the wind. "I know that! You can take a tank shell to the chest and walk it off! But can you fly, Kaz?"

  I looked down at the drop.

  If he dropped me, I would hit the ground with terminal velocity. Would my heart survive the impact? Maybe. Would my regeneration knit me back together? Probably.

  But I couldn't fight back. I was a fish pulled out of the water.

  I let go of my sword hilt.

  "I yield!" I shouted.

  Bells nodded.

  He lowered us and we hit the ground. Bells landed on his feet and he dropped me the last few inches.

  I landed on my ass in the dirt.

  Dust plumed around me.

  The crowd was dead silent. They had watched their President get abducted and returned like an unruly toddler.

  I hadn't landed a single hit or even drawn my weapon.

  I stood up, dusting off my pants as my face burned.

  Bells retracted his wind wings. He looked at me.

  I took a deep breath and I swallowed the irritation, the ego, and the middle-manager shame.

  "The winner," I announced, "and the Representative of Eden... is General Bells Ruper."

  The crowd went wild.

  Bells left immediately. He took the Terramotta and drove to the Thunderdome to register.

  We stayed behind and had to organize the logistics. I personally had to shower the shame off.

  Eight hours later, the rest of us arrived.

  Sal drove the construction truck while I sat in the back with Grace and Aiya.

  "It was a strategic loss," Grace said, typing on her phone. "It plays better this way as it shows that Eden has depth and that the leader isn't the only strong one."

  "Stop spinning it, Grace," I said, looking out the window at the Detroit skyline. "I got my ass kicked."

  "He has a combat path," Aiya said gently. "You grow corn. It is the nature of the Tao."

  "I grow explosive squash," I muttered. "There's a difference."

  We pulled up to the Seaside Thunderdome.

  It was magnificent and made my new Supermarket look like a convenience store. It was a arena made up of neon and black concrete, towering over the riverfront. Massive holographic screens played highlights of the upcoming fighters.

  We got out and joined the line.

  "Tickets?" the booth attendant asked. He was wearing a Seaside uniform.

  "Four," I said.

  "That'll be 140 Stones. 35 a pop."

  I pulled out my phone and transferred the stones.

  Even though money had not been a problem for me for a very long time, the price still stung.

  We entered the arena.

  It was packed with fifty thousand people and the noise was deafening as vendors walked the aisles selling overpriced beer and Seaside-branded foam fingers.

  We found our seats in the VIP section—which just meant the seats were padded.

  "Welcome!" a voice yelled.

  The lights dimmed and spotlights converged on the center of the arena floor.

  A man descended from the ceiling on a floating platform and he wore a suit made of shimmering purple fabric.

  "I am Coolie!" the announcer shouted. "And welcome to the First Annual Seaside Tournament!"

  The crowd roared.

  Coolie was good. He was charismatic, using tech to amplify his voice and minor illusions to punctuate his sentences.

  "The rules are simple!" Coolie announced. "No killing! We are civilized here! Victory is by knockout or incapacitation! The winner takes one million Spirit Stones and a Rare Artifact from the personal vault of Mister O!"

  He pointed to the massive screens.

  "We are broadcasting live to every city in the United States! New York is watching! Chicago is watching! Let's show them the power of Detroit!"

  The nationalism worked. The crowd went feral.

  "For our first match," Coolie shouted. "We have a treat! Two independent cultivators who have risen from the ashes of the neighborhoods!"

  The gates on opposite sides of the arena opened.

  "In the Red Corner! A master of geometry and energy! A Realm 3 Array Cultivator! Give it up for... FRANK!"

  A man walked out and floating around him were glowing geometric glyphs. He stepped on the air, the glyphs forming platforms under his feet.

  "And in the Blue Corner!" Coolie continued. "He holds the power of life and death in his scalpel! A Realm 3 Immortal Physician! SIEGFRIED!"

  A man with a scalpel stepped into the light.

  I leaned forward in my seat.

  My eyes locked onto the two men in the arena.

  "Independent," I whispered.

  "What?" Grace asked.

  "They're independent," I said. "They don't belong to any faction."

  I looked at Frank's arrays and saw defensive infrastructure and security.

  I looked at Siegfried and saw medical infrastructure and a hospital.

  "Realm 3 support class," I murmured. "Rare. Incredibly rare."

  I smiled.

  "Let's see what they can do," I said. "Eden has job openings."