When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell.
Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may.
After all...I can't fix stupid.
Previously: Steel and Stone are finally vindicated by an 'honest' indie news report, and Höbin is brought into the challenge of finding the last Demoni Vankil Seal.
Everything has a time and a season.
Everything… and everyone.
When it’s your time to shine—don’t hesitate.
Be so good you make them eat crow.
News reports were still coming in, thick and fast.
The full clip from KNOW THE NEWS had gone viral almost overnight. Some stations rushed to correct themselves, scrambling to cover their reputations—others just blamed the whole mess on “bad sources.”
Cowards.
Either way, the attention had shifted. Now the spotlight was on the factory workers and us…Steel and Stone.
Alhannah had been pacing the kitchen like a caged tiger for hours now.
Shamas was still missing. No call, no message.
Nothing since he’d walked out the warehouse doors days ago. The Trench event was coming up fast, and we had no choice but to go on without him. So Freak opened up the shop and had the TNT crew do a full inspection on Gnolaum—just to be sure.
I needed everything working.
In the end, Alhannah had to bring in outside protection just to get us to the arena.
It was that or forfeit.
It’s now or never. You can do this, Wendell. You’ve practiced, drilled, strategized. I sucked in a long breath and held it as I adjusted the straps across my chest.
You’re going to do fine. You’re prepared.
Exhale.
"Sure you'll do fine," Doubt whispered, "unless, ya know…you don't."
Shut up…and I thought you were locked up?
"Lucky for you, I found a spare key to get out of the closet. That is one scary Librarian," he hissed.
Well,…shut up. Last thing I need is distractions.
"Right. Mums the word. Zipping it. Tightly. Will NOT ear a single…."
SHUT UP!
"……….."
I looked around. The black screens inside my cockpit showed four other S.L.A.G.s standing in formation. Each one glowed with that familiar green wireframe readout.
I swallowed hard.
You’re the Wendellizer… which means you’re the next Grand Champion! I forced myself to smile, but saying that—even inside my own head—felt... utterly ridiculous.
"……….."
Don't…even.
My fingers ran lightly over the buttons and toggles on the console.
Remember what you learned.
King’s Jester isn’t here to win. He’s just here to mess things up—so stay away from him.
Skyline’s the fastest and most ruthless flyer in the Trench, but Hook specializes in dropping flyers out of the sky. Hopefully, they’ll go after each other…
That leaves me with Dream Date.
I groaned internally.
Great. I get to beat up a girl.
I closed my eyes and took several slow, controlled breaths—just like Chuck had taught me. Once Höbin had shown up, Chuck had carved out some time for me.
Real time.
Personal time.
He even focused on training me on some basic magic.
Best suggestion ever.
It gave me a break from the stress of the games and, for the first time in a while, helped me feel like I was actually progressing. That, and the hero’s letter I still kept tucked in my jacket. I carried it everywhere now. Must have opened that thing a hundred times, hoping some magical revelation would leap off the page—like it did at Til-Thorin.
But it never did.
It only said one word.
WIN.
Helpful? Not particularly.
Still, I opened my eyes, exhaled gently, and whispered, “Välo.”
The cockpit responded immediately. A soft, warm yellow light filled the surrounding space—not from a bulb, not from a screen. It just… was. Like someone turned up a sunrise inside the machine. No shadows. No clear source. Just light.
It was awesome.
Like, actually useful…but yeah… also awesome.
Magic. Real magic.
And it worked.
“Läkätä,” I said, just to be sure—and the light vanished in a blink. Just like Chuck taught me.
The music was rising outside. I could hear the roar of the crowd now—gnomes flooding into the arena seats, their cheers and chants bouncing off the walls like thunder. I could feel it in my chest.
Anxiety threatened to bubble up again.
"Look, I know you don't want me to…" Doubt started.
What will it take to shut you UP?!
"I wanted to say 'good luck', because I think you'll do great."
Wait. What? You're complimenting me?
"Wendell, you've worked SO hard, and you've gotten good in this thing. If there's something you should NOT doubt, it's using this mechanical tin can. No matter what happens, give this everything you have."
That…caught me off guard.
It was always the expectations that got me. Letting people down—that thought alone chased me like a shadow everywhere I went.
"You’ve practiced. You’re ready," Doubt whispered, slowly fading into the background of my mind. "Gnolaum is solid. It’s going to work."
Yeah.
I grinned to myself.
Right.
Leaning back in the pilot’s seat, I let the breath drain from me, slow and steady. I imagined the stress trickling down my arms and out through my fingers.
Ticking.
The arena timer was counting down.
“Mäjäkä!” I blurted.
“What’s that?” Nat’s voice crackled over the com.
I flinched. “Oh—uh, nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Not the right command. I grimaced. Have to create the light source first… that’s what Chuck said.
“Välo,” I whispered again, softer this time. The light bloomed back into the cockpit, warm and golden.
Okay, create the glow… now focus it. Chuck said something about directing it. Like a spotlight. Aim with intent.
I stared at the status screen in front of me.
“Mäjäkä!” I commanded.
Suddenly, the light inside the cockpit gathered—funneling into a single spot above my head… and projected a blinding beam straight at the screen.
The stupid move here was that the screen reflected it—right back at my face.
“ARGH!”
My head slammed back into the chair’s metal support with a thud. Spots exploded behind my eyelids as I squeezed them shut.
“Läkätä!” I stammered.
The light cut off instantly.
I blinked. Hard. Repeatedly. A film of gray hovered over my vision. Sparkles. Great.
“What are you doing in there?” Alhannah’s voice was sharp through the com.
“Uh… nothing.”
“Wendell,” she said, voice stern.
I groaned. “I tried something Chuck showed me. It just got a little bright in here, that’s all.”
Her tone softened, but not by much. “No magic. Not now. Not here. Got it?”
“Got it,” I said.
“Wendell, you read me?” Freak’s voice buzzed in.
“Loud and clear, little brother.”
I can see Freak in my mind. His hand probably drifted absentmindedly to his belly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I love when he calls me that. Makes me feel like I—”
"Freak," Alhannah snapped.
“Right. Focus. Wendell—you remember the panic buttons?”
My fingers hovered over the two oversized buttons above my controls—one red, one black. “Yup. Red is cut, black is…”
“No. Red is stab, black is cut.”
“…Right,” I mumbled. I knew that.
“Here we go, guys,” Alhannah said, her voice smooth and calm over the com-link. “Good luck, Wendell.”
The arena’s loudspeaker boomed over the crowd. “5…4…3…”
Just then, I heard a door creak open with a rusty groan through the speaker. It slammed shut.
"Shamas," Alhannah choked, "you look like death on two feet. What happened to your lip?"
But it all out, Wendell. Focus. Only this fight matters right now.
“RH, where have you been?!” Alhannah snapped into the com—but even she softened. “What happened to you?”
The arena was an explosion of movement, and for some strange reason, I…wasn't so scared.
Tha-thump-thump.
Without a second thought, I started sprinting in a 20' metal fighting machine, that the other nerds back home only got to pilot in video games.
BOOyah.
I could hear Nat typing furiously. “Cryo, get control of the arena.”
“On it, Nathan,” said the blue digital face on the screen of my cockpit. “Good luck, Wendell, sir. Control in 3…2…1… traps online.”
I nodded and gripped the controls so hard my knuckles turned ivory white.
Nibbles's voice echoed in the background. “Hey, you’re getting good at this, Nat.”
“It’s my job.” He tapped a few keys. “Lowering the ceiling net. Let’s keep the fly boy grounded this time.”
“Why doesn’t she look at me that way?” Telly said near another com.
I could hear Tumbler loud and clear. “Cause yer ugly, boy. Plain an’ simple.”
"Too much noise in the coms!" I barked. "Please. Stop."
“Remember the plan,” Alhannah said coldly—then… “I’m waiting.”
"For what?" I said.
"I'm talking to Shamas, Wendell. Concentrate!"
I grunted, "Then stop having conversations around the mics!"
“Tell Wendell to stay away from Hook," Shamas' voice cracked. "I’ll explain later. Just know—Hook is here to make sure he doesn’t survive another round.”
Well. That was lovely.
Alhannah tapped her mic. “Did you get that, Wendell?”
I raised my shield, deflecting a steel cable that nearly took my head off. “Scary guy with the cape and nasty-looking farming tool wants my head. Got it. Anything else?”
Pause.
“That’s it, Wendell.” I could hear the typing of keys. “Focus is changing, Nat. Focus the Trench on Hook.”
The crowd roared as chaos erupted across the arena.
A giant metal net—like a steel spider-web—descended from above, stretching across the entire battlefield. The thing stopped just feet above the pergola structure. No way any S.L.A.G. was flying out of this one.
Skyline lit up its rockets, jets shrieking as fire and smoke blasted behind it.
Nat chuckled. “He doesn’t have anywhere to go…what’s he doing?”
Alhannah chuckled too. “You’re new, Wheels. Vaughn’s one of the best pilots in the game…especially when it comes to improvising.”
Skyline flipped over on its back with a crash of metal and sparks, scraping along the floor at high speed. A massive claw slammed down from above, nearly snatching it mid-spin.
A chunk of clawed steel, molded to look like a skeletal hand with wicked nails, stabbed into the floor, ripping up tiles and sending flames jetting around it.
Skyline fired its twin pistols in a blur of motion as it spun.
Wow. That is some serious…
And then I saw him.
Hook.
The midnight-black S.L.A.G. stood like death itself. Cloaked in a metal hood and cape, that giant scythe glinting under the arena lights. Bullets bounced off its armor like nothing.
He didn’t even flinch.
When Skyline slipped out of range, I watched as those glowing red eyes shifted… and locked onto me.
“Uh… guys?” My voice squeaked through the mic as red warning lights exploded across my dashboard. I yanked back hard on the joystick just in time to block another steel cable that came lashing at my head. The impact reverberated through the whole cockpit. “Hook’s targeted me and I don’t know where to go. This pink whipping machine has me pinned. I could really use some help, Nat!”
Dream Date was dancing after me, lashing out with cables like some psychotic prom queen. “I have no idea how to deal with Barbie here—someone tell me she runs out of accessories!”
“Let’s see if we can isolate Hook,” Nat muttered, fingers clacking across his keyboard. The upper left monitor changed to a grid filled with a layout of compartments and hidden mechanisms under the arena floor.
Nat chuckled. “Yes! Wendell, you see the grid?"
"Yeah."
"I put that there, so the structure of the arena makes sense. We can mix and match and do pretty much anything we want—so long as the other hackers are kept at bay.” I could hear his grin. “Maybe our creepy friend would like to go for a swim?”
Nibbles squealed just as the floor panels in front of Hook started falling away like dominos. Black oil filled the open pits beneath. One after another, the platforms vanished, forcing the towering reaper to backpedal until it was pinned against the far arena wall.
Nat kept working the console like a concert pianist.
“Only Skyline could make that jump,” he muttered. “Cryo, can we light a match?”
“Lighting match, Nathan.”
With a mechanical ka-chunk, a cannon popped out from the arena wall. There was a sudden PUH-PUH-PUHFWOOH! and liquid fire shot into the trench. Hook spun its cloak-covered torso in a blur, trying to dodge the arc—but flames hit the oil, and it all went up like a bonfire on steroids.
Orange flame exploded across the arena, belching black smoke toward the ceiling. A giant wall of fire surrounded Hook’s section of the arena, isolating the metal reaper on its own private island of doom.
The fans screamed their approval.
“You did it!” Nibbles squealed—and…I'm pretty sure I heard smooching sounds in between the pops from the speakers. There was a short pause, and then, “Oh…uh…sorry.”
Clearing his throat, Nat mumbled, “Let’s see what else we can do…”
Telly's voice was faint in the background. “I woulda kissed her back.”
“Maybe that’s why she hasn’t kissed ya in the first place,” Tumbler snorted.
Meanwhile, I yanked the joystick and brought Gnolaum’s shield up just in time to block Dream Date’s latest lash. Her pink cables cracked like thunder and dented the floor beside me. I had to backpedal fast.
“Dream Date?!” I shouted, diving to the side of a pillar, which, come on, was pretty dang impressive, if I say so myself. “Who in their right mind considers this walking death trap a dream date?!”
“Then hit her!” Dax’s voice barked through the mic.
“No one told me about whips!” I huffed, scrambling to the side. “It’s like fighting an angry octopus—”
“What’s an octopus?” Telly asked.
“Some kinda sandwich, I think,” replied Tumbler.
Alhannah clicked through the camera feeds. “Wendell, stop thinking about the weapon. Think about the distance.”
“What?” I frowned.
I could hear the loud clack of her heavy boots as she started pacing. “Every attack has a distance. Whips are strongest at the ends. You want to minimize damage? Get closer.”
“You want me to run towards the psycho Barbie?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re all insane.”
“It’ll throw off her weapon effectiveness. Trust me.”
I checked my scanner. Hook was still pinned against the wall, isolated by fire and bubbling lava at his feet. Skyline was back up, locked in a gunfight with Kings Jester. The flying cowboy was spinning, shooting with both pistols while the Jester darted along the perimeter, tiny legs pumping like pistons.
I braced myself. “Right. Get closer.”
Then—tink—three canisters landed near my feet. One skidded up to Gnolaum’s toes. The other two thunked into a pillar near my head.
“…what the—?” My monitor lit up…blue blinking lights.
They immediately changed to red.
“That can’t be good!” I gulped.
Jerking the controls hard to the right, Gnolaum dove away just as the canisters exploded.
“UNGH!”
My shoulder jammed into the pilot seat as my S.L.A.G. crashed onto its side. Pain shot through my ribs and my head cracked against a bar. Blinking through the blur, I watched shrapnel and metal whip past the canopy.
Chunks of cement and steel pummeled Dream Date right in the chest, knocking her sideways.
Alhannah growled through the coms, “Looks like Kings Jester’s starting his fun. Watch yourself.”
"Get up!" Doubt shouted, "Come on, Wendell, get up!"
I groaned, grinding my teeth as I forced the Gnolaum back onto its feet. My hands shook from the jolt.
"You're exposed, Wendell! Move!"
I glanced around—Skyline was still exchanging fire with Kings Jester, who was now sprinting into his second lap around the arena. Those tiny legs pumped like a jackrabbit on espresso, while Skyline unloaded rounds to keep him at bay.
Me?
Stuck with the date from hell.
I growled and tightened my grip on the controls. “All right,” I muttered, “let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Wendell, get a move on," Nat shouted over the com-link. "Hook’s found a way out of our trap!”
I snapped my head to the side just in time to catch Hook’s claw launching into the air. It soared up, threading right through the metal webbing above. The chain caught. A couple tugs, and the black-cloaked reaper swung clean across the flaming trench like some nightmarish Tarzan act.
He landed on the other side of the lava to a thunderous cheer from the fans.
Great.
That made five S.L.A.G.s still in the game.
Only two needed to go down to end combat.
Think, Wendell, think!
Jester was the fastest and least armored—I can’t catch him. Skyline’s gunning for him, anyway. Heavier weapons, but can’t land a hit on the little guy. Which means I’m stuck with—
SNAP!
“Argh!”
A steel cable lashed across the trench and wrapped itself around my sword arm, yanking it outward. My weapon, already more club than blade, was awkward at this angle. Every swing to try to cut the cable just bounced off the tension like a wet noodle.
Then a second whip slammed in and wrapped around the sword itself.
Oh, come on!
Dream Date reeled me in like a bad prom memory, stretching my sword arm out to the max.
Above me, the fans were going nuts. “HOOK! HOOK! HOOK!”
The reaper’s claw still dangled from the net overhead, but he’d ditched it. That meant scythe-time. The glowing red eyes locked onto me from across the arena as the black figure stalked forward, ignoring everyone else.
“I don’t know what yer waitin’ for, kid,” Dax goaded. “Hit somebody!”
“Wendell, get out of there!” Alhannah barked into the mic.
Skyline dropped to a knee and drew a rifle. It tracked the zig-zagging Jester, fired…and boom, the wall behind him shattered.
No direct hit, but it gave me an idea.
Kings Jester was closing in, less than a hundred feet from me. Hook was charging now, full tilt.
I was caught between them.
“What’s he doing?” I could hear Dax’s panic rising. “What’s he waitin’ for…an invitation?”
Come on… come on, Hook…
I kept my eye on the monitor. That big green outline got larger. Distance count rolling down:
3… 2… 1…
Tha-thump-thump.
I let go of the joystick tension and let the cable go slack—then cranked the controls.
Gnolaum spun.
Like a 20', 12,000lb top.
My shield arm shot forward as the slack in the cable suddenly reversed, sling shotting me with it. Dream Date’s own cables are now fully wrapped around us both.
Perfect.
I let the shield fly.
“MAHAN’S PINK PANTIES!” Dax screamed. “Kid…what’re ya doing!?!”
The shield collided with Kings Jester mid-dash, nailing the little S.L.A.G. right in the chest. The hit launched him into the air like a rag-doll and skidded him halfway across the arena. Skyline, not missing a beat, fired twice more—blasting off the guy’s leg and head.
One down.
Hook was already in motion. The scythe arced overhead and slammed down.
“OHHHHHHHH!” the crowd roared.
He missed me by feet.
I was still spinning—still tangled—but I was now right on top of Dream Date.
Awkward, but…still good.
Gnolaum’s elbow slammed back. I hit the red panic button.
THUNK!
Four-foot spikes jutted from the elbow joints and sank deep into Dream Date’s chest—just below the pilot cockpit.
“Spin, baby,” I growled, yanking the joystick.
I dropped a knee and shoved hard, spinning with all the momentum the machine had. The metal whined from the force, complaining but holding together. The pink nightmare lost her footing and tumbled.
…right into the path of Hook’s next attack.
SHHHHIINNNK!
Hook’s scythe sheared through her shoulder and took off an entire arm. It clattered to the floor like a steel log.
I didn’t stop.
My fist slammed the black panic button.
Buzz saws along my forearms screamed to life and severed the cables binding me to Dream Date. I yanked Gnolaum’s spike out of her side and wound up for a final swing.
The sword collided with her head.
…and launched it like a cannonball.
BOOM!
It smashed right into Hook’s faceplate.
The reaper staggered. He didn’t fall, but the hit stunned him.
I held my breath.
“Did he do it?” Dax whispered, eyes locked on the screen.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZT!
The arena buzzer exploded to life.
Dax screamed so loud into the mic, I flinched. “HE DID IT!”
The crowd went berserk.
“LADIES AND GENTLEGNOMES,” the announcer bellowed, “RARELY HAVE WE SEEN SUCH A FEAT OF SKILL AND TIMING IN THE GAMES! LET’S GIVE A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE GNOLAAAAUUUM!”
Cameras swooped down in a frenzy to catch the eruption of gnomes rattling fences and throwing popcorn.
I could hear shouts and cheers from the control room.
There was static, and mics scratching against the fabric.
That's when I heard Shamas's voice crack.
“Well, I’ll be…”
