“Let’s start round two then.”

  Mason barely had time to register Callum’s words before a rapid series of punches peppered his chest, the swarmer-style barrage breaking through his guard with ease!

  The Golem’s left foot briefly left the ground before he stomped it back down, causing the still-standing trees to tremble from the vibrations! A rocky fist once again missed its mark as Callum waited until the last moment to dodge.

  The out boxer movement gave way to a singular, powerful slugger-style blow, which caused Mason to stumble backward, an imprint of the boxing glove embedded into his chest!

  The Golem ran his stone fingers over the dent briefly while Callum stood back in a traditional defensive stance, arms raised and knees bent, waiting for his opponent to make the next move.

  “Only slugger blows are causing any damage, so long as I keep taking these openings as they come, he’ll start to fall apart.”

  Mason stood his ground for a few more seconds, not making a hasty rush to attack. Even when Callum started to throw practice punches as a warm-up while hopping side to side, the Monsterkin stood his ground, apart from a brief flinch of uncertainty whether the human was about to weaponize the air again at the start of his routine.

  “Maybe the bait is too obvious even for this grunt.” Callum mused to himself.

  “You know I bet that Vampire has high-tailed it if he beat Lionel, which knowing that bum is entirely possible by now.”

  “Boss not do that, he nice. You not have faith in you own friend?”

  “Friend? Don’t make me laugh! I'm just the poor sap stuck with that gobshite for tonight. Besides, friends are just enemies that pretend to be kind before stabbing you in the back; you simply haven’t learned that lesson yet.”

  Callum’s voice took a bitter tone, his jaw tensing before he forced himself to refocus. What was he doing? Here he was, the one losing his cool instead of the overgrown smokestack in front of him. He had enough of this prattle.

  “And you’ll never get the chance.”

  Callum took the initiative, dashing forward towards Mason! He threw a feint punch, drawing a counter-attack in the form of a right hand.

  The human stopped himself and began to transition into another last-second dodge in preparation for a slugger’s counter.

  “Too predictable-”

  The feeling of a solid force colliding with his shoulder shattered his thoughts! Mason’s attack clipped the human mid movement, causing the boxer’s own momentum to spin him in place!

  The Golem followed through with a straight kick, Callum barely managing to raise his gloves in a block. The man’s arms trembled in a struggle against the kick before the impact caused him to fly backward, crashing through a couple of trees! Their roles from earlier were reversed just like that!

  “Me just need to aim where he will be!” Mason realized.

  As the boxer stood back up on shaky legs, he was met with an onslaught of pebbles rocketing towards him! Mason was spitting the attack with even more force than he did against Felix, all thanks to the moon’s power!

  Callum threw a few of his punches which weaponized the air! The gusts scattered a number of the tiny projectiles away from their trajectory; however, there were still too many to halt, and he was forced to bring up his guard once again.

  Most of the diminutive stones ricocheted off his boxing gloves; a few nicked his shoulders, tearing the fabric of his tracksuit and leaving some small cuts.

  This was merely a distraction. Mason used the opening to rush in once he had fired the last from his mouth! Callum moved to hit another swarmer barrage in retaliation to knock the Golem off balance and earn himself some space.

  Mason, however, heaved a fist of his own and forced the human to once again go into a dodging motion!

  Wham! The Monsterkin’s other arm came forward and connected with the young man’s midsection in a lariat motion! Mason had pulled off a feint of his own!

  Callum’s heels skidded backwards along the ground, and when he came to a stop, a trickle of blood leaked from his mouth where he had bitten his own tongue. His shoulders began to heave noticeably.

  “You wanna throw hands, you dumb fecker? Fine! I can take good as I give!”

  Callum’s rough Irish accent flew free from him unencumbered, something he typically kept restrained due to the funny looks it earned him from other hunters.

  “BRING IT!” Mason shouted while giving his chest a singular pound with his fist.

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  Both of the combatants rushed forward and made no attempts at anything fancy anymore. Their fists met in a direct clash, and they both stumbled slightly backward!

  Simultaneously, they each grit their teeth of differing minerals. Punches were traded back and forth in rapid succession, Mason’s chest sinking deeper and deeper while Callum ate rocky fists to his skull! The boxer’s forehead had busted open at this point, and blood spilled freely; his other techniques were put to the side in favour of going all-in on slugger-style blows!

  They both pulled back for one last strike with all they had. Their fists both became blurs as they shot out, but only one found its mark. The sound of a collapsing solid rang out into the night sky.

  Callum’s arm ran through Mason’s chest so deeply that even his elbow found itself embedded. It had brought up solid after colliding with something hard, the Golem's core no doubt.

  Mason’s arms fell to his sides limply. Small pieces of his full body were beginning to crack and slowly fall off. The Golem made no resistance as Callum pulled his arm out in a swift and clean motion, falling to his back with the gaping hole in his sternum staring up at the moon.

  Callum wiped his face with his forearm, some of the blood from his head wound having found its way into his eyes.

  “Haah…not bad, I suppose. Can’t remember the last time I got into a fight like that. I wonder if that's how the major leagues would have been.”

  The human turned and began to walk away.

  “Time to go see if the slacker actually got something done for once.”

  ————————

  18 years ago, Golem’s Perception

  “Serial number M-A-50N has completed construction.”

  “What is the status?”

  “Defective.”

  “How unfortunate, those are rarer than ever now.”

  The two worker Golems stared down at the newly formed core, produced by the grand machine known as the Cibus. The spherical object was much larger than the average and would thus exhibit many unusual quirks once it could form thoughts and a body.

  Golems had perhaps been one of the Monsterkin species to benefit most from being separated from the others after the War for Alco; no longer did they have to fret over the factories which gave birth to their kind being targeted for resources.

  Now, whatever quota of new Golems needed to be made to replace the population could be done without hassle, ensuring they were also among the few races insulated from a poor Trek performance.

  That didn't mean things were perfect. The Cibus machines could not make every core exactly the same, creating a social hierarchy based on what was produced.

  ‘Pures’ were Golems with cores that were smaller than average and made up approximately 20% of the total production. Their intellect was sharp, and their skill in battle immaculate; these were the ones who earned leadership roles and steered the species' direction.

  ‘Standards’ made up the majority, being approximately 70% of their number. Possessing average core size or negligible deviations, they typically fulfilled a variety of jobs within society, though rarely did one ever manage to reach the heights of a Pure Golem.

  ‘Defects’ were the bottom 10%, fairly easily identifiable by their awkward speech patterns and overly abundant emotions. While not wanting in physical strength, they simply lacked the advantages that Golems with smaller cores had over them.

  14% of the 20% of Pures made it back alive from the Trek.

  35% of the 70% of the Standards returned home to perform useful functions, such as the workers currently overseeing the formation of new cores.

  The Defects? 0%, not a single one in history had lived past the age of 18.

  For a species obsessed with statistics and percentages, the numbers didn't lie, and they spelled disaster for anyone born as a Defect.

  ————————

  One week ago

  “Boss!”

  Mason turned around to face the group of young Defect Golems, ranging from ages 5 to 17, who had taken to following him around. They had each done so ever since he had beaten back Standards that harassed them for their perceived inferiority.

  The youngest of them all, a runt who barely reached up to Mason’s knee, ran forward and clung ahold of him.

  “Boss…you…you is going soon on Trek. W-Who gonna protect us now?”

  As small pearl-like objects flooded from the young Golem’s eyes Mason bent down and patted his head.

  “Me only gone for month at most, stay strong until then.”

  He looked up at his other followers, and they, too, were shedding a Golem’s equivalent of tears. What he was suggesting was impossible; no Defect survived the Trek.

  Mason was determined to be the first and to give all these young Monsterkin hope that they had a chance to defy the odds, that nothing was written in stone.

  “Me will be shining beacon for all you!”

  ————————

  Present day

  Stone fingers dug into the dirt, each digit dragging through the soil before uniting into fists.

  Callum stopped walking at the sound of movement behind him, one foot still in front of the other. He spun around to see the most improbable sight.

  Mason had gotten to his feet, the glow of his core shining out from the hole that the boxer had created in his chest!

  “Still more?!” Callum audibly exclaimed in exasperation.

  Mason curled up into a ball and began to build up momentum, pieces of his own body flying off at a much faster rate from the exertion!

  “Astral Technique: Stone Catapult!”

  Mason’s gradually shrinking frame launched forward, parts as large as his legs breaking off during the roll towards his human adversary!

  “Eejit, this ain't going to be like last time! You're running on fumes! My next attack will blow you apart!”

  Callum’s arm started its vibration, and he pulled it back for his signature move.

  “Astral Technique: Mach Force Punch!”

  Callum threw his attack forward, confident in victory smiling upon him.

  “Your winner by knockout, Cal-”

  The boxer’s declaration of his own triumph was muted as his punch came up empty, a shadow now looming over his head.

  Mason had used his left hand to spring upwards before the two Astral Techniques collided! The limb crumbled away, leaving only a slim portion of his upper body and right arm remaining. It was all he needed.

  With meteoric force, Mason dropped elbow-first down onto Callum’s neck!

  Dust shot up some twenty feet into the air, and trees that had survived the collisions thus far came crashing down. Where there once had been a condensed stretch of forest now lay a noticeable clearing in the centre.

  Callum lay motionless, not dead but completely drained to the point he could no longer move. Nearby, a spherical object rolled to a stop, the body that it once held together completely absent.

  The human stared at what remained of his opponent, his vision fading in and out. By all means, this would be considered a rare double knockout in combat sports terms, but as far as Callum was concerned, this had been his fight to lose.

  The sound of footsteps arrived, gradually getting louder before a pale hand scooped up the Golem’s core.

  “Mason…” Felix’s uttering of the name caused the object to glow and dim faintly in the vein of a heartbeat, and the Vampire exhaled in relief. He was going to make it.

  “He actually came for him. How about that?”

  Felix noticed the shallow breaths coming from the human and slowly began walking up to him, drawing his sword with his free hand. As the crimson blade reflected in the eyes of the boxer, a wave of both acceptance and regret washed through him.

  “Sorry, coach, I never was good enough for prime time…”

  With a shaking hand, Felix brought his weapon down, and the battle between the two duos had finally seen its last exchange of the night.