[PS] Barracks

[Orion]

"Son."

Koola heard the familiar voice of his father from behind. He turned to see the gargantuan emperor approaching. It had been a long time.

"Father," the prince returned in kind.

King Cold reached him, gave a quick greeting to the old man Koola had been bickering with, and returned his attention.

"I must say Koola, I was surprised."

The younger Icer shot a quizzical glance. "About what?"

"I might've heard wrong, but aren't you the one who resurrected me?"

"With your money."

"That's beside the point." King Cold folded his arms. "With me in the afterlife, you would be crowned the new dictator of my empire. Why didn't you take up my mantle?"

Koola didn't know how to answer. "I don't know. I just thought you would enjoy rampaging through this tournament and killing people." Plus, Koola thought to himself, this way there was a good chance that I would know for sure that you were dead.

Cold wasn't easily fooled, and his son was easy to see through. There was another reason, but until he could work it out, he stayed silent.

"That's very generous of you, son."

"I do what I can."

The caped king swept his gaze over the other humanoids that waited impatiently int he bunker with them. Many were conversing with others, while a few introverts kept to themselves, rifling through their bags, losing themselves in thought. Koola didn't seem impressed or worried with the competition before him, but then again, he always put up a front.

"What do you think of your chances this year, son?" Cold inquired as they both overlooked the bunker.

"Much better than last," Koola replied confidently. "And not because of the competition. I've been training. I even think I'm on the verge of learning my ultimate transformation."

Cold chuckled. "Think you can beat your old dad?"

"Well, that remains to be seen. Besides, I thought we'd run together. What do you think?"