"The Crucible? Can't say I've heard of it." Sol's arms crossed automatically.

"Please!" Marcus grabbed Sol's sleeve with both hands. "I need those tickets back! They're completely sold out—nobody in their right mind would resell them now! I'm begging you!"

"Easy, easy there." Sol gently tried to extract his arm. "I'm sure everything's fine. Look, here they come now!"

Within moments, all three thieves were deposited on the ground in various states of defeat. One lay wrapped in metal bindings, completely unconscious. Another squirmed inside a cocoon of orange energy, eyes wide with fear. The third was bound in crimson energy with what looked like a muzzle made of the same red light covering his mouth—though he kept thrashing and making muffled screaming noises.

"Okay, I have to ask." Sol pointed at the muzzled one. "Why'd you gag him?"

Red's grin spread wide. "Because he wouldn't stop screaming."

"What did you do to him?"

Red's grin somehow grew even wider. He said nothing.

"Uh..." Marcus had to make sure. "You ARE the good guys, right?"

Ignoring Marcus, Angelo stepped forward toward the only thief who seemed capable of having a conversation—the woman wrapped in orange energy. He manipulated his forged energy to tilt her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"You now stand before the messenger of justice himself." Angelo's voice dropped into that theatrical tone. "The Angel of Death."

Sol's eyes rolled. Blue closed his, pinching the bridge of his nose. Red cackled like this was the funniest thing he'd ever witnessed. Neiva actually seemed to take it seriously, watching with rapt attention. Marcus just looked completely confused.

The woman stared up at Angelo in absolute terror. The one muffled screaming... kept doing that.

"Surrender now. Change your ways and find redemption." Angelo leaned closer. "Or I'll send you to meet the other me. In his domain."

"PLEASE! PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!" The woman's voice came out as a shriek.

Sol stepped forward, much to Angelo's surprise. "Just hand over the tickets, promise you'll turn over a new leaf, and you can walk away. That's it."

"YES! Take them! Just take them and leave us alone!"

The tickets exchanged hands quickly after that. The thieves were released and immediately bolted, dragging their unconscious friend between them as they ran.

Angelo pulled his hood back up, his aura fading away until he looked like a completely normal guy again—nothing like the avenging angel from thirty seconds ago.

Marcus got a proper look at his saviors for the first time. "Thank you, thank you so much! You're my heroes! And saved by triplets, no less—that's pretty rare!"

"It's nothing." Angelo waved it off lazily.

"Can I ask you something?" Marcus's eyes lit up with curiosity. "You three being triplets explains the matching aura types, but you've got the same evolved abilities too? That's incredibly rare! And that materialization—it looked like hardened energy or maybe light? Which is it?"

Angelo blinked, clearly caught off-guard. "Uh..."

"Quite the observant eye you have there." Blue stepped beside them, adjusting imaginary glasses. "We are indeed energy Aurons, as you surmised."

"And we call the solid stuff 'Forged Energy'!" Red added enthusiastically.

"Forged Energy! That's a sick name!" Marcus turned to Red. "Did you come up with it?"

"No, I did." Angelo made sure to claim credit before Red could steal it.

"You really know your stuff about Aurons," Neiva commented.

"But of course!" Marcus spun around and pointed to the logo on the back of his vest—a cartoon dog wearing underwear like a superhero. "I'm the team owner of The Underdogs!"

Everyone just stared at the logo for a long moment.

Red gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Now that's what I call badass!"

Sol's expression shifted as pieces clicked together. "Let me take a guess here. Team owner of The Underdogs who knows a lot about Aurons means it's a team of Aurons. And those tickets for The Crucible—that's a professional Auron competition, isn't it?"

"Bingo!" Marcus beamed. "I've got to say, you're pretty observant yourself!"

Sol's chest puffed out slightly at the compliment, though he tried to hide it.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Why call them The Underdogs?" Angelo's question came out quieter than usual, yet somehow carried more weight.

"Ah, funny story actually." Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. "I was a bully growing up."

Neiva's eyebrows shot up. "That's... literally the opposite of what I expected you to say."

"Right?" Marcus laughed. "But no, I wasn't bullying the underdogs—I was rooting for them! I bullied the bullies instead. More of a challenge anyway!" He laughed harder, wiping at a mock tear. "Ahh, yeah. Those were good days."

"Still not seeing how this connects to your team name." Red crossed his arms skeptically.

"Well, I also grew up as a die-hard pro-Auron fan!" Marcus's enthusiasm radiated off him.

"Pro-Auron fan..." Angelo's voice went even quieter. "Huh."

"You too?"

"No. Our..." Angelo hesitated. "Our little brother was."

Both Red and Blue looked away at the same time.

"Then he had great taste!" Marcus's smile faltered slightly when he noticed their reactions, but he continued. "As for me, I dreamed of becoming a pro-Auron myself. But destiny had other plans—I failed to become an Auron. Never managed to overcome whatever was blocking me."

Something in Neiva's expression shifted, her grip on her own arm tightened. "I know that feeling. My breakthrough only came after I learned the key was belief."

"Ha! Well, I always believed in myself, so that wasn't the issue! Guess we'll never know what was holding me back."

"That's not really—" Neiva started, then stopped herself. "Never mind."

"Anyway!" Marcus clapped his hands together. "If I couldn't become a pro-Auron myself, there was only one other path for me."

"Professional Auron team owner." Blue finished the thought.

"Right on the money! Growing up, I always rooted for the underdogs to win. And when they did?" His eyes lit up. "The satisfaction was incredible! I wanted to recreate that feeling for other kids. But more than that..." He looked toward the edge of the shopping district, his expression going distant. "I wanted to help the actual underdogs—fighters with talent or potential but no opportunity. That's why I scout in places like this."

"Funny. Never saw you in Ashford." A hint of bitterness crept into Angelo's voice.

"Ha! Do you know how many small towns and villages there are across Luminia? Hundreds! There's no way I could reach them all." Marcus said it honestly, without defensiveness.

"So what's the deal with those tickets?" Sol asked. The fact that he was asking meant the entire group was invested in this man's story now. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Ah, right." Marcus's expression grew troubled. "The fighter I was scouting—I won't reveal their identity to respect their privacy—but the registration window was closing fast. See, this year's Crucible is for Elite rank fighters. The person I scouted is Adept rank."

"So a full rank behind. That's tough shit." Red said it completely seriously.

Everyone turned to stare at him.

"What?! I know stuff, okay?!" Red snapped defensively.

"You'd be right—it is tough shit." Marcus shook his head. "Each rank is ten times stronger than the one before it. Even with intensive Energy Draw Rate training, that's cutting it way too close. There wouldn't be time for proper preparation. So I..." He faltered, the words dying in his throat.

Sol's eyes widened. "No...You wouldn't..."

Marcus nodded, biting his lip. his face pained.

"What? What did he do?" Red and Neiva asked simultaneously.

Blue straightened his posture. "The most logical course of action. Would have been. Forced evolution." Even without piloting the CampShip, he broke up the words. "Which is. Also. The most illogical."

Angelo, Red, and Neiva all looked stunned. They turned to Marcus, who was nodding slowly.

"You're right again." Marcus's voice came out hollow. "Evolution makes you ten times stronger. You automatically jump a rank. The ultimate shortcut."

Angelo's mind flashed back to his own evolution. "Are you out of your mind? How were you planning to do that?!"

"Well..." Marcus looked defeated. "Emotional evolution was off the table—I'm not scarring my fighter's soul for a competition. So there was only one other way."

"Acceptance of death." Blue's voice turned grim. Sol nodded grimly beside him.

Marcus nodded once. "We tried to do it in a controlled environment. Got a Veteran rank Auron to help, made everyone sign consent forms. The plan was to land hits just hard enough, repeatedly, until death felt imminent. And just when we thought it was working, just when the final attack was about to connect..." His voice cracked. "My fighter ran out of stamina."

"Oh no..." Neiva covered her mouth with both hands.

"That's right." Marcus's shoulders sagged. "They took a full-power hit without any protection. Thankfully nothing vital was destroyed—they survived. But even if they make a full recovery, there's no way they'll be ready in time for this year's Crucible." He paused, his next words a cracked whisper. "Maybe not even the next one."

They all looked at him. Pity mixed with something harder to name on their faces.

"I got those tickets for their family. As... consolation, I guess." Marcus's voice came out hoarse. "I feel awful about what happened."

"Okay, maybe I'm missing something here." Red raised a finger. "But giving them tickets to the event that put their family in the hospital? Seems pretty tone-deaf to me. Just my hot take, though."

A sad smile appeared on Marcus's face. "Another bad decision to add to the pile, then."

"Red!" Neiva hissed.

"What?!" Red shot back.

"No, he's right." Marcus stood up from the bench. "But at this point, I can't show up empty-handed." He brushed off his pants. "Anyway, thanks for listening. And for saving my bacon back there. I really owe you one."

"Don't worry about it." Angelo said simply.

"No, no. I can't leave a debt unpaid—Webb family rule. Or as we like to say, 'You got tangled in our web'!" He grinned at his own joke.

Angelo forced a small smile.

"Listen, I don't have much on me right now, but here's my contact number." Marcus pulled out his phone. "Let's just say I owe you a favor. That work for you?"

"Sure." Angelo's tone stayed flat as he saved the number.

"Great! Pleasure meeting you all. Keep in touch!" Marcus started walking away, then paused mid-step. "Wait. I can at least do one useful thing before I go."

"What do you mean?" Neiva asked.

"You said you're from Ashford, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"That means you're not from around here. My advice?" Marcus's expression turned serious. "Finish whatever business you have in this town and don't stay the night."

"Why?" Sol's detective instincts activated immediately.

"Some locals told me there are bandits operating nearby. They raid the town regularly—though I hear they're more of a nuisance than an actual threat. Maybe that's intentional, keeps people from leaving or calling in the military." Marcus shrugged. "Just passing along what I heard."

The group exchanged glances.

"Well, you've been warned. Do with that information what you will." Marcus gave them a small wave. "See you around! And hey, wish me luck! Haha... ha..." His laughter trailed off awkwardly as he walked away until he disappeared around a corner.

"Good thing we can just sleep in the CampShip, right?" Sol said to the group. Then he noticed that look in Angelo's eyes. "Right?"

Angelo's fist clenched. His eyes started glowing orange. "No bandits go unpunished on my watch."

Sol sighed deeply. "Yeah. I knew you were going to say that."

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