The Cost of the Game

The Holy Fire fleet flew through the rubble of their enemy’s vessels. From the ships covered with engravings of birds and feathers emerged the Thunder Falcon teleportation ships, making their way down to the surface to engage their foe. The Falcons entered the lower atmosphere before hovering in midair and opening their wings. Blankets of lightning emerged from them opening up the teleportation link from the ships in space to the surface and the Fire Forces began to appear in the field.

In the distance was the castle where the Pale Prince sat upon his throne. A board was in front of him with several pieces on it, similar to that of chess with a projection of numbers above it. On one side of the board, holograms of pieces began to appear as the Holy Fire forces landed. The Pale Prince cracked his hands and reached down for his first piece. 

“Next round.” He took the piece in hand and moved it forward a few squares. 

On the ground, the living pieces occupying the space represented by the board began to move forward. The Pawns, as they were called, were human warriors except their armor was more of a prison than anything. They had chains and shock collars around their necks. The thing that was supposed to provide protection didn’t even seem to give much in the way of shielding the vital body parts. The commands were given to their helmets which also had kill counters in them. Those that resisted or fell behind were electrocuted until they moved forward. 

As for the Holy Fire forces, they were the complete opposite. Their bronze-colored armor, which actually provided real protection, including a Spirit Shield, was adorned with markings of animals from Ancient Earth. Bears, wolves, eagles, bats and more. They also had hoods over their helmets, each matching the creature of their armor. Their arsenal mostly consisted of spears with thermal casters attached to them. The Pawns fired their energy rifles yet the Fire Warriors’ Spirit Shields had been attuned to withstand the attacks. The Pawns had no such protection and the blazing bolts from the Fire Warriors’ spears melted their enemies into candle wax. 

One Pawn looked with horror as his allies fell at his feet. He felt sweat running down his neck. The moisture gave small shocks as it came into contact with his collar. New commands came to his helmet, ordering him and everyone around him to keep pushing forward. 

This… this is suicide… but… I’m going to die… His thoughts were nothing but sheer panic. He was one of the smarter Pawns and he knew he couldn’t match a Fire Warrior. He had seen his friends die before he approached. His panicked thoughts were broken when he felt his leg suddenly melted from his body. He dropped his weapon and fell to the ground. His head was buried into a pile of mud under his feet and his visor was blocked. The pain was agonizing and he couldn’t focus. He laid there for an entire minute, wallowing in silent torment before he was broken out of the trance by the sound of another Pawn dying. He looked up and brushed the mud from his face to see a Fire Warrior pulling his spear from a Pawn’s torso. The Fire Warrior walked up to him, as other spearmen matched past, continuing to the castle. The Fire Warrior looked upon the fallen Pawn. Part of his helmet had been shattered, revealing his left eye. The Fire Warrior saw only fear. The Pawn closed his eyes, tears of regret filling them. But to his surprise, he felt a sharp blade close to his neck. He opened his eyes to see that the Fire Warrior had cut off his shock collar before moving on. 

The Pale Prince moved another piece on his board, commanding the massive Bishop tanks to charge forward. They towered over the Pawns, their wheels were larger than many buildings and a few Pawns got run over like ants. They blasted the Fire Warriors, but the soldiers in bronze retreated back to their Grizzly walkers. The Grizzlies were even taller than the enemy Bishops, but instead of wheels they stood on two legs with dual plasma cannons and even stronger Spirit Shields, allowing the Fire Warriors to use the shields to avoid the Bishops’ attacks. The walkers were much slower than the Bishops but the greater defense they offered allowed them to weather the charging forces. Some of the Pawns tried to retreat or drive the Bishops back to regroup but the shock collars wouldn’t let them. The charging wave of soldiers was killed by their collars or by the Fire forces slowly approaching the castle. 

Alongside the Grizzlies were Lycans, robotic suits piloted by Fire Warriors. They weren’t as tall, standing only twenty to thirty feet in height, but were far more mobile, having thrusters on their backs and hovercraft on their feet. The Lycans moved forward ahead of the other forces, closing the gap and unleashing barrages of thermal fire into the enemies. 

The Pale Prince looked upon the numbers on his board. The kills were not rising as high as he wanted. While both sides suffered casualties, it would seem the Holy Fire forces were winning the game. 

“I suppose I should play my aces,” said the Pale Prince. He grabbed two pieces from the board and moved them forward at the approaching Lycans. A terrifying sight emerged from the backlines. The Rooks appeared. Large mutant creatures deformed in their appearance and covered in cybernetics and weapons. They charged at the Lycans, unloading their weapons upon them but the war machines returned fire and used their agility to avoid the projectiles or had their Spirit Shields block the attacks that they couldn’t dodge. The burning shots tore through the Rooks’ bodies but the monsters didn’t even flinch. 

A female Lycan pilot looked upon the monsters as she steered her suit. She saw one Rook crush a Pawn under its feet as it charged at her. The Fire Warrior fired her thrusters, launching the suit backward away from the Rook’s claws. 

Such abominations, she thought. How desperate were they to create these things!? They have no regard for their own soldiers. Perhaps… is it an intimidation tactic? As the Lycan landed, she rocketed forward giving the Rook a powerful kick in the head, cleaving its neck from its body. The mutant fell to the ground dead, blue sludge oozing from its body. She turned to see another Rook pounced on an ally Lycan, grabbing it by the head and tearing it off, forcing the Fire Warrior to eject from the back of his suit. She gripped the controls tight as she started to circle the Rook, firing her rifle at the cybernetics covering its body, causing them to explode and covering the area with its rotten biomass. 

More Rooks charged at the Lycans forcing the mechs to take evasive maneuvers in order to avoid their attacks. A wave of Pawns and Bishops approached from behind the Rooks, forcing the Lycans to focus on avoiding the attacks. One Rook charged at another Lycan, crushing several Pawns in the process. The Lycan pilot quickly avoided the beast before heading towards a Bishop. He launched his jump thrusters and landed on the Bishop baiting the Rook to charge at him. The Rook climbed after him, tearing pieces off of the Bishop. The pilot waited for the monster to get closer before jumping off and dropping a large grenade from its side. It exploded, destroying part of the Bishop and killing the Rook. 

The swarms of Rooks kept coming, trampling over the Pawns. The Grizzlies drew closer and provided the support they could but the cyborg abominations were too close to the Lycans and they couldn’t risk friendly fire. The Lycans had to slowly retreat. Those who were not fast enough were destroyed and their pilots ejected. 

Suddenly a squad of Thunder Falcons flew over the enemy lines, firing bolts of electricity. The spheres electrocuted several Pawns, short-circuited Bishops and slew Rooks in their path. But that wasn’t the primary purpose. The spheres also teleported in elite Lycan suits, piloted by the high ranking Fire Warriors, the Skinwalkers. The Skinwalkers each piloted their Lycans through the enemy lines, using both ranged and close quarters weapons to carve a path through the enemy. Their suits were much faster, avoiding the gunfire of the Grizzlies and other Lycans. With the combined might and tactics of the Fire Forces, the enemy was broken. The Grizzlies focused their attacks against the walls of the castle, blasting holes for the Fire Warriors to enter but also providing the opportunity the Skinwalkers needed. They fired their thrusters and flew upward towards the higher part of the castle. They began landing in key points of the castle with three of them landing closer to the highest part. Out of those three, emerged the Skinwalkers. Their armor was similar in appearance to the other Fire Warriors except for the fact that their symbols matched the glowing tattoos across their bodies. One was that of an orange hawk holding an ornate spear in his hand. Next was that of a purple coyote, bearing claws upon her wrists. Finally, the largest of them was a green turtle with a shield and ax. The three made their way through the castle seeking the throne room by following sonar in their helmets. Armies of Knights emerged to engage them. Unlike the Pawns down below, they had decorative armor and were augmented with cybernetics. The Skinwalkers’ symbols began to glow as they channeled the powers that the tattoo ink provided them. 

The Hawk spun his spear, blending both close quarters combat with the thermal bolts it could fire. The spear moved like a spinning blur carving through the Knights who got too close. The Knights that fired upon him had their attacks either deflected back with the spear. Few shots actually even made contact with his Spirit Shield.

The Coyote had thermal casters in her claws and started her attack by firing upon the Knights. Once they approached the close quarters range, the Knights found themselves being torn apart by her blades. They didn’t even see her arms move and it appeared as though she exerted no effort at all. 

The Turtle, who stood much taller than most of the Knights, rushed head first into the enemy, his shield ramming them until he was in the heart of them. He carved away with his ax, striking enemies down. Entire men were sent flying into walls by his blade or were bashed with his shield so hard their bones shattered and organs liquified. 

Despite the three different fighting styles, each had one thing in common. Each strike was either a parry or a kill. Each death-dealing swing targeted the weak spots, making the Knights’ deaths quick and efficient. It all combined together turning the enemy into little more than cannon fodder. Once the hall was empty, the three continued to make their way to the throne room. 

Looking over the carnage he had witnessed both in the hall and outside, the Hawk couldn’t help but ask, Why? Why are they so… disorganized? It’s almost like they are trying to throw their lives away. What kind of leader allows his people and forces to just… I don’t even know. 

The Pale Prince looked upon his board. His pieces were falling and his score counter had stopped going up. He pushed a button on the board and it turned off before he leaned back. The sound of conflict could be heard outside the throne room, followed by the sound of yelling. Suddenly the doors were smashed open after the Turtle rammed it with his shield. They approached the Pale Prince. The Hawk removed his hood and took his helmet off. His skin was smooth and coppery, his eyes glowing orange like his tattoos and he had raven hair with streaks of orange feathers decorating it. 

“Pale Prince,” he said. “Under order of the Startide Alliance, you are under military arrest for the unprovoked attacking of seven newly colonized worlds. Order your forces to stand down.” The Pale Prince didn’t respond. He simply tapped his fingers together as he leaned back in the shadows. 

There was a long moment of nothing before the Hawk motioned to the Turtle. He placed his ax and shield on his back before he approached the Prince and grabbed him by the shoulders, lifting him up and bringing him into the light. They finally saw him. His skin looked necrotic, almost like a ghost. Parts of his body had random bloated pieces of flesh. His face had no expression whatsoever and his eyes were pure black.

“Have you ever heard of sunlight?” said the Coyote. 

“Why… do you care?” asked the Prince, slowly in a tone that felt unsettling. 

“Order your forces to stand down!” said the Hawk. “This bloodshed has gone on long enough.”

“Why should I? Why… should I care? I’ve lost the game. It’s over.”

“Why should you care?” said the Turtle. “Your people are out there dying. Just order them to stand down and we will spare them.”

“It matters not to me,” said the Prince. “Kill them. They are no longer of use to me.”

“Are you mad!?” said the Coyote, gripping her fists. “Those are people giving their lives for a war that is over.” The Pale Prince didn’t respond. The silence angered the Turtle, who tightened his grip, lifted him up and slammed him on his feet, sending painful ripples in his swollen legs. 

“Call them off!”

“Calm down,” said the Hawk. “We will take him to the Red Cloud and we can order our forces to retreat and broadcast his capture. I’m sure his people will be overjoyed that he’s no longer in power.” The Turtle nodded before he reached down and cuffed the Prince.

“You all… don’t understand…” he said. 

“Oh, and what don’t we understand?” said the Coyote. 

“This thing you call war…” said the Prince. “You all can’t see it… not what it really is.”

“Then what is it?” asked the Turtle. The Pale Prince gave a cold smirk.

“It’s a game. A simple means of amusement.”

“What?!” said the Hawk. “What are you talking about?”

“You can’t see them… can you?” said the Prince. “We… are the servants of higher beings. We exist… purely to entertain them. In turn… they give me purpose and… existence.” The Pale Prince looked through a window on the ceiling, staring up from the page. 

“Isn’t that right… Reader?”

The three Skinwalkers gave each other confused looks before the Hawk turned to face him.

“So, what you’re saying is attacking two of our planets and five worlds in the care of our allies, unprovoked and slaughtering tens of thousands of innocent people… It’s all fun and games to you?” 

“He’s mad,” said the Coyote. “Let’s take him away.”

“Agreed,” said the Hawk. “We’ll let these so-called ‘Readers’ decide your fate.”