Inside his cabin, Commander James Maddox sat back in a plush leather seat, staring out into the city covered with mist, with a quiet, heavy frown. The meeting with Walter Bigiva and the Central Continent's National Exterminator Agency had concluded yesterday, but the sour, metallic taste of unease had not left his mouth.
Something was deeply wrong with the upcoming World Exterminator Ranking Tournament.
Maddox had spent two centuries observing global politics, watching empires rise, fracture, and rebuild in the wake of gate breaks. He knew what standard administrative preparations looked like for international athletic and tactical exhibitions. But what he had witnessed in the Central Continent wasn't preparation for a tournament.
It was preparation for a war.
