Forty years have passed since the nuclear crescendo of the Annihilation War scorched Earth into a husk, its fury casting a cataclysmic veil of ash and debris across the skies. For decades the sun was smothered, entombing the world in an age of darkness and cold remembered as the Atomic Freeze. In those years, humanity sealed itself inside sprawling Dome Cities scattered across the planet, like the verminous forerunners who survived the dinosaurs’ fall, huddled in the dark, waiting out the long ice age.
Rooted deep within one of these monolithic havens is a teenage boy named Nova Jithonburi, fighting not only for the largest prize of credits he’s ever seen, but for the life and future of his little sister, Buppha. Yet it isn’t Nova’s fists in the ring, it’s his Megalo Machina, the Little Tiger, battling in Neon Bangkok’s greatest spectacle – the Colossus Cup, the city’s legendary annual Muay Thai tournament of steel and glory.
The crowd roared around him and his machine, while millions more, flesh and avatar alike, tuned in from across the Union of Pacific Nations and beyond through the virtual grid known as Neuro-Net. They watched, breathless, as the Little Tiger darted with lightning speed, every duck and weave wringing a collective gasp from the audience, equal parts awe and exhilaration. With each thunderous strike of its plasteel fists, Nova could almost hear the crowd gnashing their teeth in starved anticipation, craving the moment he might tear his opponent’s circuits free.
Across the ring, Anurak, the boy Nova had known all his life, lashed back with a chaos that betrayed him. His usual stoic discipline, the precise artistry of his strikes, had fractured into frantic blows, wild and desperate. To the audience it was drama; to Nova it was confirmation. The rumor he’d overheard was true.
The prize this year was not only credits but something rarer: the Jade Circuit, a sacred biotech relic from the Old World said to heal or augment the human body beyond the reach of conventional medicine. For Nova, it meant a new cybernetic spine for Buppha. For Anurak, it meant the medicines that might save his mother. Both boys fought for more than glory – they carried the pride of their districts, the weight of a rivalry forged across a lifetime, and above all, the hope of saving their families.
Steel collided against steel in a blur of fists and knees, sparks flying like firecrackers in the artificial night projected by the Dome. The Little Tiger landed a crushing elbow, sending Anurak’s machine stumbling. The crowd shrieked, but Nova’s chest tightened as he watched his friend’s desperation break into naked fear. Tears welled in his eyes as he hung between choices: deliver the final blow for Buppha’s salvation, or spare the boy before him and the ailing mother who mirrored the one he had already lost.
In that heartbeat, Nova drew his fist back, Little Tiger coiling to strike—and just before the blow could fall, a memory flared: two boys in a dim, sweat-stained gym, laughing as they sparred, unburdened by survival or rivalry. He saw not an enemy, but a friend carrying the same weight he did.
With a ragged cry, Nova redirected the strike. Little Tiger’s plasteel fist slammed into the towering wall of the machina cage, the impact rattling the platform where his real body stood tethered. Sparks showered as the mech staggered off-balance, spiraling from the force. The outcome, however, was unchanged.
The referee’s call split the arena: victory to Nova. He tore off his POV goggles, sobs spilling into the open air, even as Little Tiger automatically straightened into a preprogrammed victory roar. Fireworks ignited against the dome’s false sky while the referee seized Nova’s arm and raised it high.
Then came the prize. The Jade Circuit – holy relic and salvation – was brought forward. Yet something strange happened. Nova did not claim it. Instead, he knelt before Anurak, who sat broken in defeat, and pressed the relic into his trembling hands.
Anurak looked up with astonishment, gratitude, and shame mingling in his eyes. Desperation overcame pride, and he clutched the relic tightly. Nova said nothing. He could only choke back tears as Buppha’s face filled his mind. She would have to wait. Somehow, they would find another way. They always did.
And in that moment, the Colossus Cup became more than spectacle. It became a lesson—that in a world still scarred by war and frost, victory meant nothing if compassion was lost.
I am not the creator of the thumbnail art. Artist Credits @Ak_AIgaming
