The tournament had been going smoothly. Or, more accurately, it was going smoothly for Aetherion.
The floating arena was now a blur of colors and explosions, the sounds of battle a constant, low roar that he had long since learned to tune out. His own fights usually lasted less time than it took to sneeze—most of that time being spent deciding what to eat afterward.
Right now, he was in the waiting lounge between matches, a massive, opulent space designed for comfort. Soft chairs, free intergalactic Wi-Fi, and a panoramic view of the cosmos were all available. But Aetherion's attention was focused on the most important feature of the room: the buffet table.
He moved with the quiet reverence of a true food connoisseur, his eyes scanning the endless array of exotic snacks. There were glistening, purple-hued fruits from the nebula of Xylos, a platter of something that looked like tiny, golden galaxies, and a bubbling fountain of what the sign called "Cosmic Ambrosia."
And then… he saw it.
It sat on a silver platter, alone and pristine. A sandwich. Not just any sandwich, but a glorious, triple-layered creation with perfectly toasted, golden-brown bread.
Between the layers of bread were slices of sizzling, savory meat from a creature he didn't recognize, and a sauce that shimmered faintly like starlight.
It was a masterpiece, an edible work of art that seemed to mock the lesser snacks around it. It sat there, abandoned… waiting for someone worthy enough to claim it.
His stomach gave a low rumble of approval. His hand, as if guided by destiny itself, reached for the sandwich.
At the exact same time, another hand shot out, moving with a speed that would have been impressive to anyone who wasn't Aetherion. It was a massive hand, covered in sharp, obsidian claws, and it was heading straight for his prize.
He looked up to see a towering alien warrior in jagged black armor. The man was a walking nightmare, his form a menacing silhouette of sharp angles and brutal spikes. His eyes glowed a malevolent crimson, and the aura that radiated from him screamed "Final Boss" even though this was just the snack lounge.
"That," the warrior rumbled, his voice like rocks grinding together, "is the Royal Sandwich of the Shadow Dominion. It belongs to me."
Aetherion blinked slowly, his fingers now firmly wrapped around the sandwich. He pulled it closer to himself with a soft, protective gesture. "Well, I saw it first."
The warrior's aura flared, a wave of dark energy that shook the entire room and sent the smaller, more timid contestants diving for cover.
The air around him crackled with power, and the very ground seemed to groan under the weight of his presence. "Do you… dare to challenge the Shadow Dominion over food?"
"Uh… yeah?" Aetherion said, a touch of genuine confusion in his voice. He held the sandwich a little tighter, a defensive reflex born of years of fighting over the last slice of pizza.
Everyone in the lounge froze. The sound of a spoon clattering to the floor echoed in the sudden silence.
Somewhere in the distance, an alarm began to blare, a high-pitched wail of intergalactic panic. A colossal projection of the Tournament Host flickered to life in the center of the lounge, his shimmering form a stark contrast to the shadowy warrior.
"Contestant #77," the Host's voice boomed, though now laced with an edge of pure, unadulterated astonishment. "Do you realize you've just declared war on an entire intergalactic empire?"
Aetherion frowned, looking from the Host to the warrior and then back down at the sandwich.
"Over a sandwich? That seems a bit dramatic."
The warrior roared, a sound that could have shattered a planet
. "You will regret this insult, human! The Shadow Dominion does not tolerate—" He reached for his weapon, an enormous axe forged from the core of a dying star. The weapon materialized in his hand, humming with apocalyptic power.
And then, it vanished.
Aetherion had sent it into another dimension without even looking. He had simply twitched his hand, and the axe was gone, leaving a bewildered warrior with an empty grip. Aetherion took a confident, satisfying bite of the sandwich, the flavors exploding on his tongue.
"Sorry,"
he said between chews, his voice muffled by the glorious meal.
"I don't like fighting on an empty stomach."
The warrior's jaw dropped. The room stayed silent.
For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the free Wi-Fi.
And then—BOOM.
The lounge doors exploded inward. A deafening crash of metal followed as a fleet of armored soldiers, all clad in the menacing black of the Shadow Dominion, poured into the room.
Their weapons, rifles that crackled with dark energy, were raised and pointed directly at Aetherion.
Their leader, an even more menacing warrior than the last, pointed a gauntleted finger.
"By decree of the Shadow Dominion, you are now an enemy of the state! We will tear you apart for this act of cosmic treason!"
Aetherion sighed, a long, weary sigh that was the culmination of all the absurdities of his life. He took the last, delicious bite of his sandwich, savoring the final notes of starlight and fried meat. "Man… I just wanted lunch."
He stood, dusting off his hands, and a faint smile ghosted across his lips. The air around him shimmered, and reality itself leaned forward, like a curious child wanting to see what would happen next.
"Alright," he said, his voice quiet but echoing with an authority that bent the universe to his will, "who's first?"
Above the arena, in the privacy of his lounge, The Host watched through his private viewing screen, a wide, manic grin spreading across his face. This wasn't just a champion; this was a spectacle.
"This," The Host whispered to himself, his voice filled with an almost terrifying glee, "is going to be interesting."