“Hey big brother!”
Levik hated being called that. As far as Levik was concerned, he had no family, he was a single, unnamed, unknown individual trapped in a body that wasn’t his. But the rest of the universe constantly told him that he was Levik tou Ahvran, the second son of the Lord King of the Kronospasts, that he was ill and had a condition known as Disassociative Species Belonging Disorder, where he didn’t believe that he was a Spast, a member of a shapeshifting race of stupid, tiny, lazy honey-eaters.
Still, despite not accepting who he was, Levik was still treated well. Which was why he was currently sitting in a fancy suite at the Great Dessaron Battle Arena, watching a popular show live, with one of the only two beings he could trust.
“Hello, Kohra…” Levik grunted as the white and gold Spast sat down next to him, carrying two drinks. Unlike Levik, Kohra always looked very regal, always dressed in a golden sash, with a silver ribbon tied around each long, fluffy ear. And now that Kohra was the Heir to the Throne, he now permanently wore a gold band around each wrist, and a gold chain around his neck to prove his status. Levik hated all the gold and fanciness, he missed when the being that called himself his brother dressed normally, but Levik was also aware that Kohra had very, very little choice in the matter, what with the Lord King getting old and desperate. There were even rumours that Kohra hadn’t even chosen his own colours, apart from his ice blue eyes, but Kohra always denied those rumours.
“How you feeling today, brother?”
“Please don’t call me brother.”
Kohra glanced at Levik, then sighed. “Not having a good one today, are you?”
“No. I want to be in my cell to watch this match, not here in person. Cameras are better anyway. Don’t want to be out here, pretending.”
Levik tutted to himself, then reached for the drink that Kohra had brought him. As he sipped it, his four eyes rotated between several different colours, starting and ending on ice blue. Although Levik didn’t believe himself to be a Spast, he was a stupidly good shapeshifter and could change his colours on a whim, although most of the time, Levik settled down on green fur and a black mane, basic colours chosen to spite the being that claimed to be his father.
“You’re not pretending! We’re just having fun! You know, like brothers and friends do!” Kohra smiled. “Plus, like, today’s special! We’re watching Thirteenth Night and we’re in the live audience! You love this show, right?”
“Eh, I guess…”
In the arena below, the contestants were all gathering. There were eight of them in total, two Temthans, a Vrekan, an Athren, a Ksithan, a Torr, a Skyavok and a teenage Rethavok who, despite being the youngest person there, was still nearly as tall as the somewhat brutish adult male Temthans. The smallest was definitely the Skyavok, and even from the cheap seats, one could tell that they were terrified.
In the shadows, something was watching, the Big Bad. A terrifying creature with the sole purpose of killing these eight innocent beings. Well, it wasn’t real murder, but the whole arena was set up with special teleporters that would zip the injured away before they could actually die. If the contestants could defeat the Big Bad and escape the arena, they could win huge, huge prizes. Few beings did.
However, there were several things special about this match. Normally Rethavok weren’t allowed to enter at all (normally because they were too big and scary themselves) so the addition of a youngling was quite curious. At the same time, Torr rarely ever took part in arena stuff, not even as contestants and challengers, so that made this match an even rarer sight. What made this particular match interesting though was that it was the 500th episode, and the Big Bad was not a member of the standard predator races. The Big Bad was a Spast.
“Come on, Levik! It’ll be fun!” Kohra was doing his best to cheer Levik up. It had taken many years of Kohra’s short life to get Levik to the point where he could trust him, but ever since their older brother had disappeared not too long ago, all that progress had been ruined. “Just enjoy the luxury and the fact that we’re watching something awesome unfold in front of us! This one unknown Spast has boosted our popularity tenfold, and now we’re going to watch him hopefully beat the crap out of a bunch of other species!”
“Why do you think I would want that?” Levik asked. “I’m not a Spast, I’m not anything.”
“You enjoy the show though, right? You like arena stuff!”
“I guess…” Levik settled down somewhat, mostly just to get Kohra to stop talking. He did enjoy Thirteenth Night, and it was definitely shaping up to be a good show.
In the arena below, things were already heating up. The Big Bad had appeared, taking the form of a massive, horned, winged Rethavok, towering over the competitors. In a single swing of its massive claws, it managed to take out the Torr, instantly rendering them unconscious. Even the normally rather stoic competitor Rethavok suddenly looked absolutely terrified as it scrambled away to find a bigger weapon.
“He seems familiar…” Levik muttered as he watched on.
“Who does?”
“The Spast.”
“Well, he IS a Spast!” Kohra laughed. “Literally the first to ever fight! You ever considered it, Levik? I bet you’d be pretty good!”
Levik shook his head. “I’m no fighter. And the Spasts are like the Torr. They’re not fighters either.”
Kohra glanced at Levik. “Did you just admit to being a Spast?”
Levik hesitated, then fell silent. He hated whenever Kohra did that. It did something to his brain that he really didn’t like. Made him almost accept things. After all, Levik HAD to be a Spast, they were the only race of the Twelve that could shapeshift, and he had two siblings that were also Spasts. But he never felt like a Spast and he just couldn’t relate to other Spasts in any way.
That being said, Levik COULD relate to the shapeshifter in the arena, the monster that had just torn its way through most of the competitors in record time. The only ones left were a Temthan, the Skyavok and the Rethavok, and the Skyavok was hiding on the Rethavok’s back, shouting expletives and being all-round useless. This amused Levik a bit too much, especially since the Big Bad shapeshifted into the Skyavok, repeated the expletives it had shouted, then proceeded to turn into Timik Lilac-Crown, the number one Temthan house fighter, so they could beat the crap out of the Temthan. What Levik found odd though was that this Spast did what Levik did and few others knew how to do: they could mimic voices. Something about this Spast gladiator felt wrong. No, not wrong. Similar.
“You alright, Levik?”
Kohra’s voice snapped Levik back to reality.
“Yeah…” Levik started to speak, but stopped. Below, it was clear that the Big Bad was trying to drag the fight out a little longer, and, having defeated the Temthan, was now focusing on the Rethavok and the Skyavok. Well, mostly just on the Rethavok, because the Skyavok was utterly useless. The Big Bad though was having a bit of fun, and this time they shapeshifted into the form of the Lightbearer, a very popular and powerful Rethavok house fighter. Levik was admittedly a fan of the Lightbearer, and it almost bothered him just how good the Spast’s impression of the mighty beast was. He even nailed the Lightbearer’s voice.
It occurred to Levik exactly why the Spast was doing such a good impression, as the Spast suddenly breathed a torrent of fire in the challengers’ direction, finishing them both off and ending the match a little too soon. The crowds had absolutely loved it, and Kohra was cheering happily next to him. The Big Bad was being played by the Spast member of Xeno Dessaron One, the only mixed-species Dessaron team, that represented the Great Arena itself. But they were also capable of mixing and matching their shapeshifting traits, but doing so quickly, cleanly and without any drawbacks. Something Levik had only ever seen one other Spast do, outside of himself.
“Hey, Kohra?” Levik muttered as he eagerly watched the Spast turn back to normal and wander around the arena, waving at the crowds.
“What, brother?”
“I want to meet him.”
“Who?” Kohra blinked. “You want to meet the Spast?
“Yeah.”
Kohra tilted his head to one side. “You’re not normally THAT interested in this sort of stuff. You’re always content to just watch.”
Levik sighed. “You’re royalty, you can arrange a meetup or something. They’re a Spast, they’re still loyal to the Lord King, they can’t say no to the Heir to the Throne. Especially since he’s not the Heir himself any more…”
Kohra blinked again, then turned around to face Levik. “Uh, what are you talking about?”
“You don’t recognize him?”
“Who? The Spast down there?”
“Yeah.”
“And you DO recognize him?” Kohra crossed his arms angrily. “Not a single Spast knows who he is!”
“I’m not a Spast though. And I know who he is.”
“Oh? Who the fuck is he then?”
Levik let loose a small smile. “He’s our brother.”