There was a series of explosions behind Edward, but he was entirely focused ahead with a great deal of concern of what they were going to run into, and a secondary but still very large concern that they’d run into, or rather over, Heismay.

Fortunately, the man was not made into roadkill beneath paws, hooves and wheels, and the other end of the tunnel turned out to be a safe zone of sorts. A few bushes and lit lanterns where all that greeted them rather than any more hulking or lurking horrors, for which Edward was very thankful. As the Reindrix slowed and then stopped, the man released his deathgrip on their reins and pushed himself out of the seat.

He was winded after the fight, even if not as much as those who’d been running and fighting, but he still put in the effort to check on all the stagecoach pullers for injuries, self or enemy inflicted. Fortunately they were mostly ok, baring the one that had rammed the mandril, which had a few light scratches on it that he used his feather staff striker to repair.

After that, he checked the bushes for any sign of blight, before letting the Reindrix have a munch on the leaves as they so pleased.

As it turned out, there’d be some opportunity for the people to eat as well as the beasts soon enough, though unfortunately Edward did not have any food on him to add to it. At the moment. As it turned out, there was an opportunity to gather some to be found in the botanical garden, which was absolutely overgrown with plants, some of which turned out to be edible.

Edward, wanting to stretch his legs as much as anything, had joined the party on this little expedition without any golem forces accompanying him. Upon finding out there was succor to be gathered however, he changed his mind about that.

”You go on ahead, I’ll summon up some forces to sweep the area for everything edible rather than waste the time of more valuable hands on the endeavor. I’m sure the people back on the Avenger will appreciate any excess fresh produce we can gather as a result of that automation Edward said to the others, before finding a spot to perform the rituals necessary first to recharge his mana fuel cells, and to then craft the golems needed for the job.

Bronze and Copper would do. With the dense foliage and presence of explosive plants, inferno hounds were a poor choice, naturally, while cannons would cause collateral damage. Plus, the spear and helbard wielders were most suited to having their swords turned into plowshears. Or rather polearms turned into scyths, as spears were used as clumsy knives to cut the stems of tomatoes, ground cherries, and popcorn plants, while the helbards were used to hook around and pull down the star brambles.

Of course, this was Galeem’s world, and so Edward’s dream of using automations for peaceful purposes rather than war was always a distant fantasy. The toothy plants weren't exactly an issue, polearms were perfect for dealing with these statically positioned foes, but the Arche Puppets were another matter entirely.

Edward had audibly noted interest in these machines already, and though he’d avoided them while with the other seekers, now that he’d split off he was ever so interested in testing their capabilities. Plus, his golems weren't exactly capable of stealth anyway.

Their motions where, to Edward’s eye, nothing short of ”Remarkable fluidity”, as the one he’d sent a copper golem squad to engage artfully parried spear thrusts with its reinforced arms. Naturally, having seen the likes of Blazermate, Ramattra and so on, he was aware that his creations lagged behind other worlds, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t respect craftsmanship when he saw it.

He was especially impressed how, when it failed to make any headway against the wall of spears with its kicks, it backed off, baiting his golems into the sight path of another puppet, after which the two worked together to encircle the spear formation so that one could attack from the flank.

Unfortunately for them, once it became clear they were going to win, Edward broke his passive observation, aimed his magelock pistol at the one flip kicking a golem, and squeezed the trigger right after casting Designated Target on it.

The round punched straight through the cranium of the machine, dropping it as the sound of the shot echoed through the garden. Which proved to be a problem, because the other puppets quickly came running.

”Very clever creations these” Edward noted more with interest than concern, as he commanded his 2 other copper golems forwards to form a proper wall of spears rather than a lone flankable block.

The first pupped didn’t charge this, nor did the second or thirds, and Edward, unwilling to risk setting fire to the harvest, allowed them to do this rather than unleashing his real firepower. Soon enough the dozen or so former forest patrollers had formed up into their own formation opposite his wall

”Is that everyone?” Edward asked, rhetorically, before declaring ”Good. Now, let's put you through a proper stress test, shall we?” as the trees behind him shifted, the puppet’s gazes rose, and the two towering Bronze golems finally emerged from their distant hiding spot.

There was a pause, and then the puppets rushed the spearwall en masse, hurrying to try and thin his force’s numbers before the bronze golems could close in. In response Edward shot one with his pistol, and then summoned his Reaver striker behind his spearlines. The oversized squid beast, towering over everything except the trees, raised its front tendrils and began to rain a swift series of tentacle strikes down on the puppets presently trying to kick their way through the spearwall.

Some had taken the flanks however, and Edward got himself directly involved to prevent his spears being pincered. He charged one that pivoted away from its attack on the copper golem’s flanks to instead deliver a flip kick his way. Rather than dodge out of the way, Edward lunged forward, portal dodging through the attack, before halting his momentum with a flap of his wings. He then pivoted around, entirely aware of where the Puppet was behind him thanks to having his creation’s vision as well as his own, and delivered a 180 swing with his weapon. He did so not with anything so piddly as his onehanded warscyth however, but instead delivering a cleaving strike with one of Ganondorf’s armory stored greatswords he’d retrieved while the battle lines were being drawn.

Not his usual style, but he did have the training, and the metal Puppets were, well, made of metal, and therefore tough. Just not tough enough to take a greatsword cleaving into them. Nor a sweeping helbard strike, which the Bronze Golem began delivering once it had reached the engagement, which swiftly cleaned up the remaining Puppets.

As impressively designed as they were, their combat style was truly artful in its grace and sophistication, Edward did have to wonder why they’d not simply been equipped with weapons instead. It would have been much more practical.

As it turned out, he’d soon enough find what looked like it might be an explanation up above.

After gathering up the spirits, healing up his golems, and putting them back on harvesting duty Edward caught up with the others, who’d had their own relatively onesided conflict with the Puppets found on the raised perimeter.

”I shall investigate the penthouse then” Edward said, in response to Ace investigating the other building, and Geralt sticking with Sandalphon.

Once up out of the treeline, Edward abandoned the catwalks themselves, and simply took flight, making a direct beeline for his destination rather than winding his way through the aerial maze, leading to him making it to his destination without incident. Within, he found the possible reason why the guards had been so interestingly designed: an (inert) puppet hanging suspended above a private study of some sort, all of which indicated that they had been the product of a person with an academic mind rather than a military one.

Edward might have the latter, but he could certainly respect that. Just not quite enough to not rearrange his mana cell usage to free up space for another Bronze Golem squad to be used to cut down the puppet so he could take a look at it up close and see what might make it tick. Or, might make it tick anyway, given it was presumably missing whatever spark had been animating the Arch Puppets.

While they were at that, he let Sandalphon know about the study, given that she might also find the study of interest. He then also got to itemising the collected puppet spirits



The results themselves were certainly interesting in and of themselves, but perhaps more the remit of the advanced mundane sciences in many cases.

He did wonder if the crystals would be usable to power the winged puppet however, though fortunately resisted this temptation given the potentially violent result of powering it up. An experiment to do after they’d looked at/packed up all the research material found within the study.

Blazermate decided to stay with Geralt and Ace to make sure they didn't get frostbite. She was cold herself, but coldness didn't really do much to her anyway unless she got frozen. And with Mokou's feathers helping warm up those two, Blazermate tried to use the same feather heat to help with her own chassis. Granted, she tried not to touch the two boys if she could help it as right now she was probably the tongue to a flagpole, well the flagpole itself with the cold water on her chassis. Eventually they'd heal up and continue onwards, with Blazermate giving them her buffs before they went to explore, staying back to rejuvenate the Randrix.

Sectonia meanwhile took Sandalphon's little mission to explore the previous area for a 'plushie' like the photo shown. Really she was looking for something of use they missed as they had to rush through the area, but a possible lead on whoever "M" is would be useful knowing these consuls. Now finding such a thing would be a lot more difficult and as such, she summoned some Ice antlers to run around the area to find a location that seemed close to what was show in the photo. Sectonia herself flying about looking for it from the sky.

While the Antlers didn't find the plushie, they did find a point of interest that was missed by everyone else. Some mandrills that were still alive and guarding a treasure chest. They'd inform Sectonia of that when they could, but first Sectonia would deal with the main mission with this 'M' letter. It took a while, but she eventually found the plushie in question and the letter itself in question within the thing. Granted, as Sectonia didn't care much for the plushie itself, she just cut its mouth open to get to the letter.

The letter itself was... fairly mundane all things considered.
and much to her annoyance, there wasn't anything about M. Just more mention of this alchemist and their parasites that seemed to animate or reanimate all the soulless creatures here. Before she returned to the stagecoach, she investigated the chest her Antlers had spotted and through a barrage of swords from both above and below, the mandrills protecting the chest weren't much of a problem. Inside the chest however was just some Quartz. Good looking Quartz that'd make some good windows, but quartz just the same. It was already pre cut though, so perhaps this was some kind of strange currency? Regardless, she could take this back to the stagecoach, as well as the letter itself.



Since Roland was new to Eseka, he'd need to find a way to make steady money. Well, as a fixer, he could just offer his services to do odd jobs around the town while waiting for tournaments; thats how things worked where he was from. But there was also the underground fighting rings that seemed to give decent payouts as well from what he had gathered. He'd try what he knew before trying something new, at least for now, and opened a small one man fixer office here. While in the City he'd have to go through tons of paperwork, here it seemed like he could just offer services and people would pay without the need to pay taxes or go through approval offices. That sped things up, but he was sure if the group spent more than a month here some repo man would come knocking looking for his cut of the profits no question.

Plus, by doing some odd jobs around the city of Eseka for whatever establishment he could get a job from, he'd learn more about the city, how it works, and what he could possibly use to exploit the system. Speaking of, he should probably go and find the other seekers and tell them of the underground fights he had learned about. Granted those that seemed to know Terry were probably in good hands there were a couple seekers that Roland was a bit concerned about. Considering how Pit acted during the conversation with the organization member, he might cause or be the cause of issues. City life really chewed up people like him. Also where was Jr. and Rika?

Amtarasu padded through the center of their little section of the tea house brawl, which had been the worst looking right up until Nadia took out one of the walls via being hurled through it. She paused for a half moment, ears pivoting towards the hole. Then continued her steps when she didn’t hear the telltale sound of a body turning to ash, and instead heard Miss Fortune’s voice talking to someone.

Still, despite the hole, their spot was definitely runner up in terms of damage. Given the amount of fireballs and punches being thrown around several bits were on fire, while the center of it had been blown to smitharines by hers truly.

She briefly wondered if this was normal, or if they were really racking up the repair bill here, but dismissed the thought. She still had a man to free from the blinders of a false sun. A man who could still take a bit more of a beating she judged.

“Gotta admit, you’re tough enough, Ammy,” Terry complimented, despite the quippy tone in his voice, his drilling lower limb continuing to corner Amaterasu. “Too bad, you’re gonna be the second god whose ass I’m gonna whoop next.”

He might’ve been a little too bold by making such a statement because those would be the last words that came out of his mouth before swallowing the impact of the detonating cherry bombs. Loud rounds of booms entered his ears, as he found himself blasting towards the already wrecked wall behind, his back harshly colliding with the enormous decoration displaying the Chinese hanzi for ‘tea.’

THUD!

“Gwahhh–!!”

The brawny blonde bounced forth, reeling across the severely fractured floor before halting on his front. One by one, he could feel miniscule wooden shrapnels pouring over his head, flinching in response.

“Ouch, ouch, ouch!”

Initially striving, he managed to pick himself up after a while, obtaining a gauge stock in the process. His standing form faltered and wobbled after the impact, every fiber of his muscles straining. To make things worse, those wretched voices came to haunt him again, ringing aloud within his head.

Terry…

“Gwah..!!”

He instantly dropped down, knee nearly grazing against the ligneous floor beneath his boots. The stinging headache struck again, the sensation close to that of a piercing blade through the brain. Gone were the quips and funny remarks; he could no longer think straight. Gnashing his teeth, Terry placed both hands over the golden crown of his head, gripping and squeezing it as though it would’ve helped him calm the voices and the headache. Ready stance was no longer assumed, allowing an opening for his opponent to strike.

Unseen to all but the Yokai, Amatarasu’s devout beads formed up around her neck in a ring which began to spin rapidly for half a second, before all six beads were fired off in rapid succession when their rotation brought them between her ears.

What are you doing, Terry? Don’t just stand there!

You’re going to get us killed!

“Ungh–!!”

It was difficult to remain focused when the voices from the distant past continued to play by the back of his head. The six beads easily connected, each one of them covering every inch of Terry’s faltered frame before the final one rammed against his nose with a loud…

SMACK!

His head was knocked back, fresh crimson liquid flying out of his nostrils to taint the deity’s clear, white fur. The former KOF champion staggered back, his gloved hands reaching out to the crown of his aching head.

“S– STOP!”

Instead of towards Amaterasu, the urging word was more directed towards himself. He couldn’t tell where all these influx of long, suppressed memories came from, but they’d started to overwhelm him. The internally echoing voices… They were too dreadful and agonizing. The deafening screams and the noises of loud pounding fists, they were too much for him to bear.

Just get outta here and save yourself! We’ll meet again…

“No, no, no…” Terry weakly mumbled, his head faintly shaking. “Just… stop! Please!”

She was hot on their heels, rushing in to try and deliver a blow before he could recover from the unseen barrage, swiping with her sun-disk swipe before carrying the momentum of her charge into headbutt him in the chest in an attempt to stagger him.

Then she’d crane her neck around, grab the handle of her oversized sword Tsumugari (which she’d swapped out to float at her side) in her jaws, tensing as she charged a strike and then delivering a titanic side swipe with the flat of the blade.

Will you be alright, Terry?

I can promise you.

POW!

THUD!

SMACK!

Terry was still practically defenseless when each of the subsequent attacks managed to reach out to him, bashing his wobbling form from one attack to another. He was stunned, but yet to collapse. He could feel his heart pounding heavily yet gradually, almost as though it was close to bursting out under his chest. Absently, his boots teetered back, as he tried to assume a fighting stance but failed. He cried a plea—once again, to himself.

“Agh! Please…”

She then hopped back, switched equipment up again, and delivered rapid fire whips with her devout beads to keep him off balance as she reached a paw towards her chest, struggling with the motion due to her quadrupedal stance.

Odds were, she’d not get it out in time, and so had to resort to pausing time and dabbing two spots of ink onto his legs that’d result in a pair of inkbullets kneecapping the fighter. Then she gripped the friend heart in her jaws, lunged forward, and slapped him in the face with it (wolves weren't exactly known for their throwing capabilities), freeing him from Galeem’s influence (and undoing all the damage he’d taken, including the mess she’d make of his knees, in the process).

I should’ve known letting a son lose his father was a mistake. The concept of the King of Fighters revolves around you. A son found his father, separated through death, and the Legendary Wolf is made. I’ve seen it clearly now. If it wasn’t for you, these so-called ‘heroes’ wouldn’t have been inspired…

SNAP!

...And the sacred will of Gaia would have never been disrupted.

FWOOSH…

The echoing voice turned louder and deeper, as Terry received each and every fiery whip grazing against his bruised form. Once again, his vision flickered red and white, as he found himself cornered to the partly obliterated wall behind. The roar of the crowd and the rowdy sight of Nadia dueling with Asher and Yayama were completely ignored, replaced by internal exchanges of words occupying his mind—ones that emulated his voice and a certain other he found to be familiar.

Y– You bastard…

You see, Terry, you’re the root of all the problems surrounding this place. Branches of realities were created, the cycle of violence and vengeance repeated, all because you sent a madman deep into the depths of hell. Perhaps, I’d been too fixated on the three ‘Sacred Treasures’ to realize that they weren’t even the main obstacles. I won’t repeat the same mistake.

BLAM!

BLAM!

THUMP!

And Terry was brought to his knees, his lower limbs freely receiving the inkbullets that Amaterasu had summoned. He was severely injured, practically immobilized, yet he seemed to be a bit more pained by the headache and the internal dialogues he’d been striving to break out of. It was made worse when the friend heart managed to bash him in the face.

TAP!

Once freed from Galeem’s mind control, the flood of distant memories became even clearer than a cacophony of wretched voices. A gasp left his mouth, and his eyes opened wide. A series of horrifying mental pictures began to course into his mind, depicting the horrors of the slaughter that took place just moments before his original story had come to a halt. Three particular pictures caught his attention the most, two of which depicted Andy dying in his arms and Joe clinging to a fractured wall unresponsively. Following both internal sights was the silhouette of a man staring down at Terry with an eerie red eye and… what was that abstract entity over there? A shining figure with multiple wings? Isn’t that supposed to be a creature from a century-long scripture? Regardless, it was a surreal view to grasp, and he couldn’t handle the influx of information anymore.

“T– This is too much. I can’t take it anymore!”

Frightened, Terry wobbled around with hands still around the aching head, managing to stand on his feet after the furred deity had fixed his knees. A groan of agony left his mouth, and layers of translucent energy began to take shape around his gloved hands. Many of the visitors began to worry about his well-being, as he was still yet to retaliate.

“Oh, God… Is Terry-san okay?” asked the school girl, folding her hands hopefully.

Hrmm… This one isn’t good, remarked the mother bear, her munching fangs slowing down.

“But Mojumbo thinks this is delicious!” the Haitian man chimed, objecting to the mother bear.

“Yeah, right, it looks like we’ve found somebody more broken than the blonde fighter. I always knew all those cheap strikes he did were just a bunch of gimmicks. Nothing burgers, to be precise,” the geeky smark gave his two cents, fixing his stylishly glimmering glasses. “That wolf and the jacked redhead definitely need to be nerfed. Even the cat girl over there. A lot of these fighters are insanely unbalanced! It appears it will take a long while until my strive for a balanced Esaka comes to a conclusion…”

As for Terry, he didn’t quite mind all the words spoken by the visitors—both the good and the bad. His mind had already been occupied by the retrieved memories as we speak, trying to process each and every part of them. He dropped on his knees again, but not before having his back stumbling upon the fractured wall behind. An agonizing groan escaped his mouth, his gripped head hurling back. That same voice spoke to him again, emulating that of the red-eyed man moments before the merging of the worlds.

Rest well, little wolf! It starts with you, and it ends with you…

“No, no, no… Shut up! Shut up!!” he exclaimed, layers of energy surrounding his hands brightening. “G– Get out… Get out… of my… head!!”



An explosive dome was constructed, surrounding Terry the moment he crushed the wooden floor with his fists. A crater was formed across the surface beneath, and every visitor within the proximity was hurled aback, though none of them was seriously injured. Moments after, the dome transformed into an enormous beam shooting through the roof, creating a noticeable cavity at the center. Wooden shrapnels began to shower the interior, though barely any of them escaped the eroding scorch exuded by Terry’s Power Stream. In the process, he’d accidentally used the only gauge stock in his possession.

Once it was all over, or at least the current outburst was, Amatarasu poked her head up from behind a table, and then glanced up at the teahouse’s new skylight.

That was, she thought, just a little bit more dramatic than what she’d gone through, and could only wonder what Galeem had been suppressing memories wise that would result in, well, that. Nothing pleasant, certainly, which made her feel a little bad about bringing them back.

She waited a few heartbeats to see if there was going to be anything else, then used a freshly refilled inkpot to fill in the hole in the ceiling. It would hardly do to have the damage dealt cascade into the whole place coming crashing down on them after all.

Then she glanced to check on the others.

Sakura had been exchanging blows with Captain Falcon, and was now struggling to put him into a headlock. Seeing Terry’s outburst, she exchanged glances with Falcon and disentangled herself from him.

”Terry-san!” She ran over. ”Terry-san, are you alright!” Sakura set a hand on his shoulder. ”I know it can be a lot to take in but- what’s wrong?”

Then, the beam dissipated into miniscule particles, ceasing the detonation completely. Terry dropped atop the floor, his knees managing to hold the weight of his toned frame. He seemed physically and mentally exhausted, energy draining and the headache losing its initial sting. Tears began to well up his eyes, as he lifted his weary gaze, the gleaming pair of crimson shades waning away to reveal their natural blue hue.

“I– I remember everything…”

The brawny blonde kept his lips parted, tongue stifling and words hanging in the air, unsure on how to describe each and every single one of the flooding memories coursing into his mind through the aid of the friend heart. Even now, he still failed to digest the brutality of the scenarios played by the back of his head. His gaze leaped between Sakura, Amaterasu, and the Captain before capturing the view of the nearby visitors striving to get back on their feet. The Power Stream must’ve been so awful, he thought, that it left quite a sizable clutter surrounding him.

”Everything?” Falcon asked, having joined Sakura in her concern for Terry - albeit more calmly and stoically. Did Terry actually remember Alcamoth? The Captain always assumed it was impossible to remember past iterations of oneself since he’d never seen that happen before. And if the bruiser actually did remember… The thought of remembering those kinds of events gave the bounty hunter a chill that ran through his blood.

Amaterasu had approached as well and, after a moment of thought, moved to sit down beside him, in the crater he’d created. She could fix that later, for now the best she could do was be close, rubbing the side of her head against his other shoulder as she placed a paw on his knee, and do what she could to help this emotionally wounded man.

”You, uh…” Sakura wasn’t sure where to start. But she figured someone had to. ”You’re in the World of Light now, Terry-san. The Seekers are trying to stop Galeem, the thing that trapped us all here in this strange world. It’s why we’re here in Esaka. Y-you don’t have to, uh, join us, though. If you don’t want.” She said, concern in her voice. ”It can be a lot to handle.”

Terry drew a deep, deep breath, trying to compose himself. Thankfully, his allies’ reassuring gestures helped him soothe the tension slightly. After moments of hesitation, he finally revealed what he remembered. “R– Rugal… H– He set us up,” he initiated, referring to ‘us’ as in himself and the rest of the KOF roster. “I was supposed to be in the KOF finals with Kyo and Ryo, facing that bastard and two of our foes. B– But then, a massacre happened. He summoned all the previous sponsors who got revived during the fourteenth tournament. We were helped by the other teams when things took a turn for the worse, but even then, we were still outnumbered. I fought and fought till I realized… I was the only one standing. Even the guys I told to run away, they… didn’t make it. They were caught, died trying, then piled on top of each other. I was bitter, furious, and shattered, but I couldn’t do a damn thing. Rugal was just stronger than I was. He crushed my bones, tore every fiber of my muscles, then told me that I was the problem. That KOF had to start with me and end with me. And then…”

The brawny blonde stifled again, too overwhelmed to recall the destruction of the world he once knew. Even he couldn’t believe the kind of nightmare he’d stepped into, partly preferring to keep the memories buried than resurfaced as the sights of his dying friends were too much for him to handle. He sniffled, fighting the tears by the lower corners of his eyes.

“And then… There was a blinding light showing right behind him, like he was about to finish me off in a blast. I thought I was about to die that day, but my mind refused to. Not after all the nasty stuff he’d done to all the people I loved and cared for. I think I weakly got up, staring him in the eye, pretending like I still had the slightest bit of strength left to retaliate. But it wasn’t just Rugal that I saw at that moment. No, no, no, there was something else. Something like… a Biblically accurate angel, I think. I wish I could get a better look at that thing, but man… the light was getting brighter and hotter that I couldn’t see anything past the ruffling wings. And the next thing I knew… I was here. With all the good folks I thought I would’ve never seen again,” Terry continued to elaborate, a moment of disbelief as he quizzically peered down. “And we all just kinda… moved on, like the massacre never happened. All that we were told was that we had to start over in this new town because South Town was, apparently, wiped outta the map due to some… ‘Earth-shattering’ catastrophe or something. But wait…” A newfound realization dawned on him, and his eyes went wide, gaze shifting up. “There’s no South Town here…”

The former KOF champion gasped, gloved hands covering the parting lips. He was devastated, betrayed, his heart shredding into pieces. The city that he grew up, defended, and resided in his entire life—the same one that helped launch his illustrious career in the fighting business—was never there to begin with, reduced to a mere fabrication meant solely to give this world’s KOF a richer history. There was no way he’d been living a lie this whole time, wasn’t it? He frowned, moving the now clenched hands away to reveal the gnashing teeth.

“I knew it! I knew that something felt off, but no one listened!” he exclaimed, his voice one of desperation. “They sold every story they were told, but I didn’t. When I started questioning stuff, they turned their backs on me, making it seem like I was a spoke on the wheels to the KOF dojo. And now, the only peeps that matter to me the most? My teammates and best friends? They’re… gone. Taken away from me like they had to pay for it!”

Huffing, Terry clumsily picked himself up, trying to keep himself steady on the fractured floor. The exhaustion was partly intact, his cheeks flushing in fury. “God, I hate my new life. Always knew I had to trust my gut,” he protested, smoothing his gaudy red jacket. “Now, y’all have to tell me everything that you know. Who’s Galeem? Why did he send us to this place called the ‘World of Light’? And… was I really ever meant to be one of you guys?”

Amaterasu took a relieved step backwards as the man stood himself up, and then a few more to give him and the two who could actually explain some space. Unfortunately, before they could, there came shouts from the upper floor of the teahouse, as the spectators erupted into an uproar.

“Why’d you stop fighting! I’ve got so much money riding on this bet!”one shotgun weilding bionic bear roared over the general hubbub, which was more or less along the same lines as the others he was shouting over.

One strange exception to this was a rather sage looking figure from nearby Shinjuku, who stood up a few moments after then general uproar began to demand the quartet “Tell me how you stopped fighting! That should not be possible!”

A pair of reploids flanked him on either side, one with a scyth the other with a mace, both of whom looked like they were about to ‘insist’ that the seekers answer their master’s question.

A moment later however the Yokai’s simple chant of “Rigged!” took over everything, and several people made for the stairs to take personal issue with the fight stopping by, functionally, forcibly restarting it.

Sakura lifted up her hands placatingly, a bead of sweat running down the side of her face as she stood straight up having listened to Terry’s story. She hadn’t expected Terry to be so sad about his uncovered memories, so this did throw a wrench into the works. Maybe it was naive of her, but Friend Hearting Terry and keeping up with the 2v2 at the same time was how she imagined it going down! ”S-sorry! We were gonna keep fighting, I promise!”

That was enough to slow the angry betters, but with the Yokai still chanting rigged (more or less for the fun of it now at this point) Amaterasu glanced towards the nearby hole in the wall and thought that maybe they should just get out of here. It wasn’t like they had anything riding on this fight.

Whatever they chose, they'd have to chose it fast.

---

Ramattra, of course, expecting Addux to become involved with the Seekers' operations, was surprised by the silent departure the stranger had taken. The concerned feeling in the Omnics' mechanical core only grew from this change in situation, wary of the hooded man’s motives with his new absence. Hopefully, his words were honest, and he meant Ramattra and the rest of the group no harm. Now that he had regrouped with the rest of the White Team outside of the Staff Center and botanical area after crossing the gap in the flooded Safari Zone, Ramattra was free to interact with the rest of his group members.

The weight of the hefty sack burdened Ramattra, reminding him that his bounty from defeating Scrapbeak in the abandoned woodmill had yet to be offered to Sandaphlon, who may have more use of the resources hoarded inside the bag aboard the Stagecoach. During the group’s short break, the omnic saw it as important to meet shortly with the archangel before exploring the botanical area. While the rest of the group waited and rested, he met her outside the Stagecoach, holding the bag out in a gesture to show his utility. His glowing eyes hummed red as he set the bag aside the entrance to the carriage, looking at the grazing Reindrix through the door. “Our friends Kit and Celica are well. There was an incident in the mill that left them retired back in Snowdin. This bag is filled with materials that may serve the Seekers.”

With a stiff bow, he left the bag sadly slouched over in the snow. A moment of quiet passed before he spoke again, the red sensors on his face beaming to life again, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Monastery in this region is? I’ve been searching for it for quite some time. You wouldn’t happen to know… well, anything regarding it?” In all honesty, he didn't expect a spectacular answer. But something within him was pulled by the idea of returning to something comfortable, a distraction from the Seekers’ intentions, like he was sleepwalking his memories. It became clear from the haze in Ramattra’s gaze that he was still under Galeem’s influence and that somebody in the group would need to be responsible for the release of Ramattra’s consciousness. Whether Sandaphlon decided to do so or not was up to her, but at least somebody in charge knew.

There was no purpose for Ramattra to eat or rest since Omnics are machine in nature, so during the duration of the rest of their break, he meditated, reflecting on his monk morality, which he had originally abandoned before being imprisoned in Galeem’s world. He sat in an idle meditation pose, his orb of destruction floating like a dark void in front of Ramattra. Friend-hearting Ramattra may shake his whole core and alter his personality entirely.

After their rest, Ramattra would leave the company of the stagecoach and return to the rest of the group. It looked like one of the newest party members had opted to explore the Staff Center already for the missing Viking, and Sandaphlon was recruiting members to explore the Botanical area. Ramattra had no way to traverse the flooded Safari Zone on his own and would not be able to return to the Hall of Adventure, so traveling with her felt like the safest bet for the time being. Besides, it never hurts to get to know who’s in charge, does it?

With Yayama successfully talked down and nobody else in their way, Nadia and Asher could finally bring their duel to a close. Once the latter declared, “Let’s finish this,” she began a slow, confident walk forward. Despite her opponent’s improbable second wind, the proud bruiser brimmed with confidence, and her dauntless swagger assuaged the gnawing concerns of the spectators upstairs. Nadia could respect how badass Asher looked right now, but she couldn’t wait to humble her, to show Yayama that de-escalation had been the right choice. Most of all, she was ready to show those gamblers just how badly they’d miscalculated. Today, Fortune wasn’t in their favor.

“Aaaalrighty then,” Nadia announced, placing one hand on her noggin. With a bowing motion she cleanly detached her head, much to the shock of the onlookers, then held it like a bowling ball. “Heady or not, here I come!” With a cheeky laugh she rolled her head across the floor toward Asher. When it began to lose momentum it face-planted, then shot blood from her neck to rocket-propel her across the floor. Asher had been taken by surprise for a moment, but as the head drew close she gathered herself to punt it like a football. As one might imagine, though, Nadia was one step a-head. “Careful~” In the distance her body had crouched down on all fours, her tail in the air and wriggling as she prepared to pounce. “I charge extra!”

With a violent crackling buzz her body bolted across the first floor in the form of a lightning bolt, blasting into and through Asher. As she reeled, Nadia’s body coalesced behind her, even as her voice came from in front. “Arm-a gonna getcha!” In a flash the feral’s arms momentarily transformed into the limbs of a white tiger, and when she used them to slash Asher’s back with Battery, they inflicted two Marks to cut her target’s defense by ten percent total.

Normally Nadia couldn’t combo off Battery thanks to the extra knockback from the critical hits, but this time her incoming cranium smacked Asher head-on from the opposite side, knocking her back toward Nadia. As the feral followed up with a roundhouse, both her Elation boons kicked in to boost her damage and speed slightly. Nadia unleashed a Limber Up high kick to pop her foe into the air. “It’s high time!” From there she rattled off a quick slash, a one-two leg strike, and a hellish copter before finishing with an El Gato axe kick to spike Asher to the ground. “Get your kicks!” The feral landed mid-bounce, then spent one bar of Dramatic Tension on a level-one blockbuster. “Let’s cut to the chase!” Her Furrserker Purrage brought both from one side of the stage to the other in a flurry of advancing claw slashes. For the final hit, she spun one arm like a drill to send Asher spinning across the floor. “Get the point?”

All around, a number of spectators focused on the tag match refocused on the one-on-one, astonished by what they were seeing. Tension began to rise as gamblers began to realize just how much Nadia had been holding back in the first round of her fight, and excitement mounted among the brave -or very wise- few who’d bet in her favor.

“Oh no…”

“This is some bull-”

“Always play the odds, baby!”

“Random crits are fair and balanced.”

“I knew it! Rob ‘em blind!”

“Wow, I sure love not having the Heavenly Principles involved.”

“What is this cheese!?”

Though her grin stretched ear to ear, Nadia tried to shut them out, and focus on her pressure. As Asher recovered, bruised but angry and ready to take revenge, the feral brought her head over, popped it up with a kick, then bumped it like a volleyball toward her foe’s head. This time Asher blocked the tricky projectile, but that gave Nadia time to get in. She tested her foe’s guard with two light slashes, then just reached around the shields and grabbed her. In an instant she extruded a huge mass of muscle fiber, trapping Asher in a fleshy yarn ball, then rolled onto her back to bat it around. “I’m havin’ a ball!” After a moment she tossed Asher away, her fibers snaking back inside her, and as the two regained their feet the feral made a call. “Rhodeiaaa!”

Behind her, an ghostly siren manifested, and streams of water began to dance around it. As she got to work, Nadia sprinted ahead on all fours, only to take a surprise armored shield charge to the face. “Bleh!” Asher’s blow sent her tumbling back, but by the time she rose, two Hydro Mimics of the feral had been summoned by Rhodeia.

Asher grit her teeth. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Huh? Water you lookin’ at?” Increasingly giddy, Nadia taunted alongside her two copycats, prompting Asher to attack. She sent her shields whirling forward like buzz saws, and Nadia pointed, sending the hydro mimics. They each darted forward in order to intercept a shield by blocking, and then Nadia sped past. She scooped up her head, jumped, and spiked it down. Asher stepped forward, dodging the head, then cut Nadia’s airdash short with a well-placed uppercut. “Oof!” The bruiser leaped up, grabbed a shield, then used it to wallop Nadia down. She landed by the fallen feral with a slam, then tried to grab her, just as Nadia attempted a grab of her own. The two batted each other away, pushed apart, but Asher brought her floating shields together in a massive clap. Nadia attempted a Blue Monday counter, but the shields functioned as projectiles, so it didn’t work. Instead she got stunned, then floored by a haymaker, only to spring back into action when her head chomped Asher from behind. “Omnomnomnom!” Her copycats charged forward, the first to perform Cat Slide and knock Asher off her feet, and the second to bounce her off the ground with El Gato. Finally, Nadia herself transformed her legs with Fluffy Soft, then ran in faster than ever to send Asher flying with a dropkick. “Paws button!”

When her foe stopped tumbling, she rose slower than before, breathing heavily. Things weren’t looking good, but she still had some fight left in her. Both fighters hesitated for a moment as Terry unleashed a column of energy, blowing clean through the Teahouse’s roof. Something told Asher that there wouldn’t be any more fights in here for a while. She mustered what strength she had left. “This isn’t over!”

Nadia grinned as she turned away from the distraction. “Then prove it!”

The three catgirls charged, and Asher took action. She cast one shield forward as a barrier to separate them, staggering their attacks. When the first Hydro Mimic attacked with a kick, it struck her shield and got blasted away. The next went for a slash that Asher side-stepped, then countered with a powerful hook punch to the jaw that crumpled the clone to the ground. Finally, Nadia herself swept in, and this time her schemes paid off. Asher’s attempted upset punch struck Nadia’s Blue Monday counter, and after her knee popped the bruiser into the air, the catgirl grabbed her, slammed her down, then finished with an elbow drop to drive Asher’s wind from her lungs.

At the perfect moment, Wounds of Plenty activated. Crazed laughter resounded through the Teahouse as the Elation’s aftertaste locked Asher in hitstun. In a frenzy Nadia launched into an Unchain combo. She started with a Step to close the distance, punched low with Under Blow, performed a high Sobat kick, then finished with a rolling flip kick to send Asher tumbling. The bruiser rolled to her feet, disheveled and on her last legs, knowing this was her last chance. When she looked around, though, she saw no trace of Nadia–only a trail of yellow electricity leading into the air. She looked up at the last moment as the feral descended with a massive curtain-shredding double claw slash, raking not just across her torso, but through her sarashi.

“Ugh!” Asher dropped to one knee as her bandages fell apart, quickly covering herself with one arm. Her face turned beet-red as she struggled to catch her breath, her strength spent. “Hey! You-! You-!”

The catgirl shrugged as she turned away. “You know what they say: all’s fair in love and war-drobe malfunction!” She grinned mischievously. “Maybe you oughta wear bandages after you get hurt. As for me…” She raised one arm in victory. “I think that’s a win!”

Madam Bo and her staff stepped in to help clean things up. Asher stormed off as fast as her injuries could allow, her face even redder than her hair, and upstairs the money changed hands. Nadia retired to her table, and after a few minutes a server arrived with a silver platter. Nadia grinned, licking her lips, and lifted the lid to reveal a pile of zenny. A small pile. Much smaller than she expected, actually. “Huh.“ She furrowed her brow. “That’s…no way that’s it, right?”

Since the other fight had finished by this time, Nadia found her way to Sakura. “Hey, uh…not to be greedy or anythin’, but is this, like…a normal amount to win?”

As it turned out, while Nadia had engineered a big upset, there just hadn’t been that many people and yokai betting to begin with, they didn’t bet any huge amounts, and Nadia herself only got a cut of the total payout. Her winnings were enough to pay for a meal or two, maybe a night’s stay in some motel, but no more than that. Worse still, even though Amaterasu had fixed the hole in the Teahouse’s ceiling, Madam Bo was angry enough at the collateral damage to close up shop for the day. Seekers and spectators alike had five minutes to finish their business and make themselves scarce, and if anyone wrecked anything else, they could look forward to a brutal smack to the face from her shoe. “Aw, maaan,” the feral sighed, sulking in her chair with the wind taken out of her sails. “After I put on such a big show, too…” Making her fortune in fight clubs like this seemed like it’d take more time and effort than it was worth.

After draining her glass, Nadia stood up again. Nobody around here seemed happy, least of all the spectators who got hustled. Even if Madam Bo wasn’t making everyone leave, this pond was dry. With a sigh, the feral got up, paid her tab, and headed for the door. “Don’t wait up for me, guys. I’m headin’ up to the High Tier. See ya later!” Anyone familiar with the cat burglar could probably guess at what she intended to do there. On the way out, she glanced at Yayama, wondering what the lalafell was thinking after all this ludicrous spectacle. Nadia gave her a cheeky salute just to be sure, then ducked out into the afternoon sunlight.

---

Once out of the temple, Band met back up with Harry, Kim, and Zenkichi, with no sign of Roland or Pit anywhere. While the first two detectives hadn’t found much of anything, the former Turk had discovered the name of somewhere the team might be able to stay, not too far from their current location. “Good to know,” he remarked. It wouldn’t hurt to head that way, but Band had a sneaking suspicion that none of them could afford a week-long stay even in a cut-rate motel. No amount of digging through dumpsters for lost change would turn up that kind of money, either. Although the detectives had set out to learn more about Esaka, they now found themselves stuck in the same predicament that the other detachment of Seekers had set out to solve. Band sure didn’t relish the prospect of having to fight for his meals or find some place in need of temporary workers. Well, nothing for it but to keep looking around, he supposed.

Band continued to peruse the streets of Esaka’s Middle Tier, combing over the middle-class cityscape at a leisurely pace. He did not intend to lead, and nor did he intend the others to follow, but the fact that they continued to stay in close proximity was probably for the best. Strength in numbers, and all that. Not that he saw a great deal of danger in his trek. Of course, since the overwhelming majority of Esaka’s citizens were fighters of some stripe, there were plenty of rough-and-tumble denizens around, with a variety of beefy biceps and weapons on display just about everywhere Band looked, but few seemed to get into trouble. He could only guess that everyone being more or less able to fend for themselves evened the playing field, creating a strong social contract in which everyone (at least within each tier) generally treated one another with fairness and respect. At the same time, though, Band detected undercurrents of unease and dread. While things seemed calm on the surface, the presence of so many strong personalities in close proximity could mean that this place was a powder-keg, ready to blow sky-high if something slipped. Was it the Four Kings keeping everyone in line? The Heavenly Principles? Band couldn’t help but worry about what would happen to Esaka once the Four Kings were gone, and even before that, what the Kings might do to keep themselves safe.

After wandering for a while, and just listening both to the citizens and the city itself, Band finally found what looked like a disturbance. A loose crowd of people had gathered in a circle, with a mostly empty space in the center. To Band that suggested an impromptu audience for a street fight, but he heard no exchange of blows nor elevated voices. As he got closer, his height allowed him to peer over most folks’ heads to get an idea of what might be going on in the middle. Two black men with black shorts and red fighting gloves, their primarily blue outfits bearing red and white highlights, stood dangerously close, their faces mere inches away from another as they squared off. Both were brawny, but the hooded man with gold accessories had at least seventy pounds and five inches on the other man, who was leaner, with scarred arms, a high-top hairstyle, and a goatee. Nevertheless, he did not bat an eye as he stared up at his counterpart’s pinpoint peepers.

Some of the onlookers were egging their favorite on, while others encouraged them to not give the other the time of day. Most just wanted to see what would happen as a result of these flaring tensions and tempers. Band stopped at the edge of the crowd to listen as the two traded barbed words.

“I’ve had just about enough of folks callin’ us clones, Combo,” the bigger man seethed. “Li’l shrimp like you’s got nothin’ on a ragin’ bull like me. Musta been why you got those implants–tryin’ to punch above your weight class.”

TJ Combo did not flinch. “I don’t got ‘em anymore, Balrog. But I ain’t scared to punch up either, ‘specially if I got some two-bit thug crampin’ my style. Sure, you’re big, but while I’ve been goin’ straight, I’m always hearin’ how you keep on fightin’ dirty. Headbutts, elbows, foot stomps. If that’s what strength looks like to you, all them muscles must be for show.”

The two went back and forth like that, getting angrier and angrier, especially Balrog, who seemed to have a lot less self-control than TJ. A brutal fight seemed imminent, but that wasn’t the only reason why he felt inclined to step in. It sounded like these men had been forced into a feud by popular opinion, being superficially similar enough to receive the derogatory appellation ‘clone’. As a black man himself, he didn’t like that these men seemed to be typecast and pitted against one another for others’ entertainment. Sure, it might be none of his business, but he couldn’t staunch his misgivings. After a few moments, Band pushed into the crowd.

“Hey, you two! Break it up!” The spectators parted around him like fish around a shark as he approached. Both TJ and Balrog looked his way, neither happy for the interruption. “Big Band, NMPD.” The detective flashed his badge. Even if he hadn’t actually been part of that police department for a long time, the prop occasionally still came in handy. “Break it up, fellas. You’re fixin’ to disturb the peace.”

“Hah,” Balrog grunted, shouldering TJ aside as he turned an exceptionally ornery face Band’s way. He seemed to regard the detective with scorn, as if he’d personally wronged him somehow. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, man. How ‘bout you run along and leave us to our business?”

TJ took a different tact. “Ain’t ever heard of the NMPD,” he told Band. “Somethin’ tells me you’re outta your jurisdiction.”

Looking between the two, Band gave them a pleading look. “C’mon, brothers. We don’t gotta be doin’ this.”

Balrog bared his teeth. “You ain’t my brother, cop. I ain’t anythin’ like either of ya.” He turned back toward TJ. “There ain’t enough room at the top for two champs. We’re gonna finish this, one way or another.”

“Man’s got a point, though. This ain’t the time or the place to settle the score,” TJ told him. He seemed more sympathetic to Band, though it was difficult for him to tell. “I know you in World Warrior, Balrog. I’ll meet you in bracket, where we’ll decide who’s champ for all of Esaka to see.” He crossed his arms. “So you better hit the speed bag, big dog, ‘cause I don’t want you fallin’ outta bracket unless it’s my gloves punchin’ you out!”

“Hah! Keep talkin’ your shit while you still can! I’m gonna enjoy seein’ the look on your face when I knock your pansy ass flat, Combo!” Balrog spat, his spittle flying.

“Fellas,” Band interjected, his voice hard and insistent.

After a long, mean stare, the two boxers pulled apart, going their separate ways. The crowd evaporated, leaving Band and the other detectives behind. Shaking his head, the cyborg let out a sigh. He glanced at Harry. “Guess we’ll have our work cut out for us startin’ tomorrow.” It sounded like World Warrior was the most popular tournament, which meant a lot of opponents to chew through before even getting close to the Seekers’ goal. This was going to be difficult, and Band was already regretting his choice.

By now it had been about an hour since lunch, and the detectives still weren’t any richer than before. They resumed their trek, searching the Middle Tier’s streets for any useful information.



Before setting off, Sandalphon took the opportunity to rendezvous with Ramattra. When he returned alone, save for the dogs bound to his sled, she could only assume the worst about the others. Her worries proved unfounded, though, as Ramattra reported that the others had made it. “Good.” She glanced at the materials he’d retrieved. Hopefully someone else could put them to good use, since tinkering was not at all her forte. When her eyes returned to Ramattra during his question, her pupils were X’s. “I’m afraid I do not know the monastery’s whereabouts. I can keep an eye out for it as we continue, however.”

As Sectonia buzzed off to investigate the part of the Hall of Adventure hinted at by the letter within her decrypted vessel, a few teammates gathered around to join Sandalphon’s foray into the Botanical Garden. While two monster hunters and two primarily ranged strategists did not make for the most diverse expedition, the archangel had a high degree of confidence in all three men. Plus, an excursion into the climate-controlled greenhouse would help warm Geralt up after his dip in the flooded Safari Zone’s frigid waters. Ramattra, meanwhile, was more of a liability while gleaming, but maybe the team would find an opportunity to free him within this structure.

Inside, the Seekers quickly became acquainted with the Botanical Garden’s defenders. Slender, elegant, and deadly Arche Puppets patrolled its winding walkways. Rather than any conventional weapons, they wielded their long, tempered limbs for a variety of quick, precise kicks. They also fought with surprising cohesion, attempting to maneuver to advantageous positions and to block when their opponents went on the offensive. Their presence confirmed to the archangel that Markiona herself must be here somewhere, lurking behind the scenes. The Seekers would have to proceed under the assumption that the Puppeteer of Death was watching, whether or not she chose to speak to them again.

While Sandalphon and the others managed to skirt around a few of them, they were forced to fight more than once. Naturally Sandalphon supported the others with well-placed shots from afar, grateful whenever the hexagun’s special effect kicked in to transform a formidable Arche Puppet into a hapless chicken. They made good progress, but it wasn’t long before a large-scale brawl got underway in one of the more open areas with a number of Arche Puppets pitted against Edward’s own mechanical minions. Metallic feet trampled colorful flowers, ancient ferns, and rare cacti underfoot as increasingly numerous automata fought back and forth, dexterity and speed against strength and durability. Reasoning that the spectacle would draw the defenders’ attention, giving his allies a chance to explore, the others left the tactician to it and head further in.

The Botanical Garden offered the newcomers a perplexingly unintuitive layout. Designed to guide visitors on a journey that fully utilized every available inch to showcase its myriad flora, the main route snaked around trees, walls, locked gates, and small animal enclosures. Sandalphon knew that she could simply vault over the various barriers, but she didn’t want to blindly leap into any ambushes, so she stuck to the intended path alongside Geralt and Ace. Together they made short work of the few puppets that remained in their path, steadily moving clockwise through the warm, spacious interior. Sandalphon examined the various plants as she went, avoiding any specimens that seemed excessively volatile or voracious. She identified plenty of edible vegetables that could be thrown into the stewpot outside, or perhaps hoarded and sent to the Avenger, but the manual labor of collecting them could be left to the golems that survived Edward’s skirmish.

Soon, the team gained some elevation and began to circle around the elevated walkway along the perimeter wall. It gave them a better look at the gardens’ layout, as well as the conclusion of the impromptu battle. With the puppets destroyed and a handful of troops tasked with the harvest, Edward got moving as well, using his wings to bypass the black iron ladders and catwalks in order to reach the highest point in the building. Meanwhile, once Ace spotted a likely way through from his vantage point, he forged ahead while Geralt, Ramattra, and Sandalphon followed behind. One after another, they crossed cobbled plaza between a couple cagelike enclosures, one cylindrical and one square, then hiked across an arched stone bridge. That bridge led over a verdant enclosure where thick, vibrant foliage seemed to shine under the brilliant fairy-light of Star Bramble bulbs, among which the last few Arche Puppets stalked, their faces motionless and doll-like.

Though none of them were particularly gifted in stealth, the trio managed to avoid alerting them, then descended from the bridge to find themselves on a secluded walkway. On one end stood a gate, locked from this side, which Ace could easily unlock to open the way back to the Botanical Garden’s entrance. On the other side, an elaborate gizmo stood near a set of double doors, its soft blue glow attracting azure butterflies as its delicate clockwork instruments clicked and spun. According to Sandalphon’s mental map, this ought to be the way through to the greenhouse. Since there had been no sign of Markiona during her contingent’s excursion so far, there were only a couple unexplored spots left where she could be. And though the stargaze contraption seemed to pose no threat, and Sandalphon couldn’t find any obvious signs of danger, this greenery-lined corridor still seemed oddly sinister to her. She couldn’t help but be curious about what lay behind those doors.

When Edward called her, the archangel half-expected him to report that he’d discovered Markiona. Instead, it seemed he’d found some sort of workshop or study, stuffed with research material and overseen by some sort of prototype held aloft by wires. An information cache was exactly what Sandalphon had been hoping to discover since she first arrived in Krat Zoo, and she knew nobody was better suited to peruse the Alchemists’ documents. “I’ll be right there,” she replied, only to hesitate when she turned to report to Ace, Ramattra, and Geralt. These hunters were plenty capable, of course, but she didn’t want to shirk her duty as a leader -not to mention healer- if danger really did lurk beyond these doors. “That said, it would be ill-advised for me to abandon you three,” she admitted, her pupils becoming inverted triangles. “Perhaps I should remain to support you?”

“Having second thoughts?” When Sandalphon turned to look, she found Heismay hanging upside-down from the leafy limb of a monkey puzzle tree. It did not surprise her to see the eugief here, and she could only assume he’d discreetly tailed her team as extra insurance against any unseen threats. “I can join these two, if you like,” he offered. “If there’s any chance to learn more about what happened in this dreadful place, and to prevent it happening again, you should take it.”

Sandalphon nodded. While Heismay was no substitute for a healer, four Seekers would always be better than three. “Be careful,” she told them.

The archangel then disappeared, using her link skill to warp to Edward’s side rather than wear herself out climbing ladders. When the column of light dispersed, she stood at the tactician’s side, and thanks to his newly summoned Bronze Golems it was a little cramped in this chamber. She left him to dismantle the nonfunctional winged puppet, carefully maneuvered between a couple of the burly constructs, and bent over the nearest desk to begin reading. Her specialized eyes scanned document after document with inhuman speed, internalizing every report, memo, and research paper. Ergo, the Petrification Disease, puppets, Kroud, and carcasses…these documents covered a lot of topics. The team’s most pressing concerns were the carcasses and their potentially infectious contagion that had turned the once-proud Krat Zoo into a menagerie of twisted monstrosities, and on that subject Sandalphon found a lot of good news.

As she read more about the Petrification Disease and ergo, however, the sounds of tinkering faded further into the background. With bated breath she absorbed every theory, experiment, and finding, her mind racing. At certain points she could scarcely believe what she was reading, but the men and women who’d penned these papers had been scientists through and through, testing each conjecture without regard for consequences or cost. Could this be what she’d been searching for?

In short order, Sandalphon knew everything she needed to know. She knew what she needed to do, even if it filled her nascent human side with fear. She had no other options presently, and precious little time. Maybe a more pleasant option would arise within the coming days, but she couldn’t hang her hopes on that remote possibility. This evening, when the Seekers finally stopped to set up camp for the night, she would have to put this plan into action. After a few moments Sandalphon lifted her gaze, staring out the penthouse windows into the overcast gloom with pupils like empty rings. For the first time since awakening today she allowed her eyes to close as she breathed in, then out. There was no knowing if this plan would work, and even if it did, things would never be the same. Starting tonight, the archangel would have to say her prayers, as long and hard as she could.

Downstairs, she could hear loud noises from the direction of the greenhouse. Quickly the archangel collected all the most sensitive documents into a briefcase, then warped back to her starting point next to the stargazer.

Shortly prior, Heismay had lent his strength to the task of pushing the doors open, more as a show of good faith to the Cadet and the Witcher than as an actual help. When the doors opened wide, they revealed the greenhouse in all its splendor, a single massive open room with a variety of enormous, exotic trees around its fringes. Most of the greenhouse was empty space, though, with nothing but uneven cobblestones and patches of grass in between the floor and the vaulted glass ceiling.



Without daylight to pour in through the domed windowpanes, it was dark in this spacious atrium, but Heismay could see one thing of note through the gloom. All the way on the other side of this derelict dance floor stood a strange throne constructed from welded puppet remains, and on that chair lounged a woman with her legs crossed. Her skin was a pale, stony slate blue, but her hair was blonde, parted off-center as curtains to frame her beautiful face and ruby-red eyes. She wore a corset, tight black leather pants, and a white silk shirt with puffy short sleeves, her look completed by a fur-lined collar, red necklace, and black fingerless gloves. On her left hand she also wore an odd, disc-shaped device, with brass cables embedded beneath her skin. A long blue fingernail teased her bottom lip before she began to speak.

“I was told that a murderous puppet would come to call on me,” she remarked, her English accent rather husky. “So who are these handsome guests standing before me?” With Heismay hidden in the shadow of a tree by the door, she only seemed to be looking at Ace, Ramttra, and Geralt. This must be Markiona, Heismay realized, the elusive Puppeteer of Death. She sighed, uncrossed her legs, and stood. “It matters not.” When she held up her hand blue strings shot out of her fingertips and snaked upward through the air, flying toward something white that squatted among the branches of the tree behind her. They plugged into the mechanical shape, and as it came to life it not only unfurled large wings, but brandished a huge mace. It took flight, soaring through the heights of the greenhouse before swooping down to Markiona’s side. The Queen’s Arche Puppet loomed half again as tall as its master, connected to her by ethereal strings.

Markiona smiled at her visitors. “You belong to me now.”

Yayama watched the duo's battle with interest. Nadia was a much more dangerous opponent than she'd let on, as Yayama had surmised already. Whatever manner of being she was, she clearly knew what she was doing with her abilities. The dark knight had to admit that she'd likely have a difficult time keeping up with the sheer speed of the self-dismembering catgirl, especially combined with her apparent talent for misdirection. Strategies ran through her head as Asher took blow after blow, Yayama thinking about what she would do in the same situation. Other than, of course, not assuming that her opponent was as harmless as she'd made herself out to be. Asher was a decent stand-in for her own capabilities, so watching where she fumbled would help Yayama avoid doing the same - as she suspected this wasn't going to be the last time she saw Nadia.

Her impromptu analysis was interrupted, however, by something she was unfortunately very familiar with. Namely, someone nearby possessed of great power going through some kind of emotional crisis. From personal experience, she knew that these often tended to. . . leak, for lack of a better term, in sometimes spectacular fashion. The emotions that suddenly crashed over her in waves were the main warning she got before being unceremoniously hurled away by the aforementioned leak. After she rolled to a halt, she grumbled something about "keeping Arm's Length" under her breath as she stood up. She reflexively held her greatsword before her in a block as the dome abruptly burst into a sky-piercing pillar of light, though the lack of ensuing impact told her that she hadn't had much to concern herself with in that regard.

The former Flame Captain shouldered her way through the increasingly irate crowd now surrounding the group, which had refused to disperse despite the threat of being tossed about by some aetherial explosion. Civilians never know when to give anyone space, do they? And they only ever run in directions you don't want them to. Technically speaking, she herself was a civilian now, but Yayama Yama wasn't exactly your average merchant. Ignoring any protests, she forced her way toward the front of the crowd. It might not be her place to interfere, but she'd made a career and a name for herself in the business of sticking her nose where it didn't belong, and for the most part it'd worked out in the end.

Yayama stepped to a point halfway between the four people down in the crater and the crowd, then spun around to face the latter. "Calm down already. Look, the big guy's clearly down for the count after that, unless that looks like prime fighting shape to you," she said, gesturing toward Terry's tear-stained face. "No offense," she added, glancing over her shoulder briefly at the four strangers. "If the fight stopped, that means someone lost, and it's clearly not the wolf or her friend. Right?" Yayama hoped she wasn't pushing her luck too far with the crowd. She knew Nadia had tried to turn them against her earlier, and wasn't sure how they would respond to another provocation. "The owner wants us all out, too, so you're pressing your luck with her." The Lalafell jerked her head toward Madam Bo.

She also hoped this group wouldn't find her sudden defense of them to be too suspicious. Truthfully, she didn't have a strong reason to do so. It mostly put her at risk of embittering Esaka's underground toward her for little tangible benefit, other than perhaps the gratitude of four strangers. Her intuition was telling her to pay attention to these people if she wanted to move forward, though, and said intuition was almost never wrong.

Almost.

It looked like the proprietor of the establishment also wanted them to leave, and Amaterasu wasn’t in any disagreement with her there. Actually leaving without getting chased out was kind of the problem, especially with the irate crowd’s Gleaming status. Truth be told though, she was more concerned about the sage who’d picked up on them breaking the rules of Galeem’s reality however. He was likely to be more calculatingly insistent.

Fortunately at least one person was on their side, which was the very small… person who’d poked her nose into this mess after Nadia got thrown into it. Probably an adult. Maybe. Height wise, child. Voice tone, difficult to judge because of the feminine pitch. Weapons and armor should have given it away, but then this was a world where people like Rika and Bowser Junior existed so that was most certainly not a given. Smell could have solved it, but they were just a little crowded so picking up on the substitutes would be difficult. Attitude though, that was quite adult.

Ultimately it didn’t really matter to her. She’d already gotten used to the idea that just because someone was unassuming in stature, that didn’t mean they weren't a force to be reckoned with, or unwise in word (not that the koopa kids were in any way contributing to that half of the equation, mind). Either way, respect was due, and the divine wolf would offer the armored stranger as much as she would anyone else.

The various betters, worked up as they were, were less inclined to be polite or respectful, but fortunately they immediately started getting their wires crossed as a result of her words.

The first instance of this was the big cybernetic bear insisting “Oh yeah, what do you know, pipsqueak! That fight wasn’t done at all because that guy’s still standing!” jabbing a claw at Captain Falcon, only for a goat cowboy to get up in his grill “You're only saying that because she’s just proven you’ve lost! So pay up!” prompting the two to start shouting at each other rather than the seekers.

Others soon followed suit, getting into arguments with each other over who’d won, and directing some attention away from the seekers.

The wolf inclined her head towards the small woman in recognition of her aid, but they weren't out of the frying pan yet, and there was still risk that they were going to go into the fire.

Two groups still had issues with them.

The first were mostly Yokai, such as a durable looking Eyellure who insisted that “It was still rigged!” while a less imposing looking Tsuchinoko in a Tshirt “Yeah these guys totally know each other, it's so obvious!”

The second was the sage and his two reploid minions who were circling around the crowd to put himself between them and the exit. As he did, he casually pointed out that “Their fight might have had an obvious winner, but the other did not” before addressing specifically Sakura and the captain “you two were in the middle of trading blows, only to drop everything upon seeing that blast. That should not be possible”

“Unless they were faking it all!” a long clawed ghoul of a yokai jumped in to insist, causing the man to sigh as the chant of “Rigged!” started back up amongst the other Yokai, and threatened to drag the betters back into the conversation.

Now this, this is what Edward needed to relax after the hectic flight from the giant alligator. Not idleness, nor a win of his own, but to engage his hands and mind in the study of machinery. For while he might be a ruler, a warlord, a skirmisher and a mage, ultimately, in his head, when he thought of himself, Edward considered himself an engineer first and foremost, and it had been so long since he really had been able to just tinker and investigate.

The weapon crafting with Ace had come close, but guns didn’t really scratch that itch. Too close to the needs of the warlord. Here, examining the now half deconstructed winged puppet, he did so simply to satisfy his curiosity. To expand his mind of the possibilities. Truly, if there was a silver lining to Galeem’s hell, it was the pooling of the ingenuity of endless realities into one great melting pot.

Now if only those within it had more than a decade to experiment with it. Baring the consuls and lost numbers of course, but the former were too busy amassing/clinging to power, and the latter too busy hiding from the former to scratch more than the surface of the possibilities.

One could only imagine the possibilities, the glorious utopia, that could be forged if only this world was free from endless death and war.

The engineer sighed, and then the ruler forced his mind to turn once more to practicality instead of possibility.

First, he re-commanded his golems, getting them to start transporting the harvested plants out of the botanical garden and out into the snow. Tomatoes, ground cherries, and Star Bramble fruits were added to the stew, while the popcorn plants were provided to the Reindrix as a more substantial meal than frosted bush leaves. Any excess was stashed for either future consumption or for sending back to the Avenger.

Edward meanwhile began collecting both the puppet parts and the spirit loot together for transport as well. This was well timed on his part, as just as he’d started up the sending sequence when he and Sandalphon were alerted to sounds of violence coming from below.

”I’ll meet you there,” he said to the angel as she piled together her papers (which he’d need to ask her about later) before exiting the room. Out there, he spread his wings, using great flaps and glides to leap from catwalk to catwalk as he headed for the source of the sound: the greenhouse.

While the group continued wandering around the city, Zenkichi had been keeping up his casual collection of vibes and intel. The general attitude he’d picked up hadn’t changed much, people were fighting in one way or another: either in tournaments or to keep a roof above their heads and food in their bellies. It was…remarkably similar to Japan in that aspect. Just working yourself to the bone and not worrying about one, two, five, ten years down the line. Maybe in the vague sense, like making savings, but never about how much their joints would hurt if they kept this pace up. How their eyes would strain to watch their favorite movies. How much of their daughter’s life they were missing.

He’d been a really terrible father, hadn’t he? Yes, Akane had her grandparents, and sure he had to make money to keep them fed and housed, but…he’d been caught in the rat race like everybody else, PubSec or no. And it wasn’t like he enjoyed being away from her so long, but…

At some point, it had become easier. They fought a lot, so…they just avoided each other sometimes. Or, she avoided him and he tried not to anger her more. Or she avoided him because she got annoyed at something he’d done.

At least they were trying to close that gap now, to some degree. Much like with the Phantom Thieves, developing a closer bond would improve things for them. It would take effort to bridge the gap that had grown between them, but he had faith they could make it work.

Coming back to his present surroundings, Zenkichi caught sight of InvestiGator Azuma, and pulled off from the group with a short warning. ”Hey, guys, I’m gonna go see if Azuma’s got anything going on he needs a hand with. Maybe find something out or get some cash.” With that said, he approached their original tour guide. ”Azuma! How are you? Just out on a patrol?” He greeted the alligator-man.

“Ah, Zenkichi! Good to see you again, not that it’s been very long since we last saw one another.” He replied, continuing on the path he’d been walking. “Something like that. Esaka is a rather high-strung place, with so many fighters gathered in one place. People can take losses in a fight rather hard, especially if somebody uses an unconventional tactic like our dojo is known for, or if a fight is a total shutout. The spirit of fair competition is vital in Esaka, even when not officially enforced by the Heavenly Principles.” He explained as they walked.

Zenkichi thought back to some of the arguments he’d seen in arcades, nodding with a light chuckle. ”Oh, I can imagine.” Zenkichi added. People could get pretty wild when sports were involved. ”So just walking around, looking for problems to solve?” It was like what Big Band was doing, just good old community policing. A bit out of his usual work in Japan, but it was hard to forget the basics: do your best to be fair, to keep things from escalating into a fight (not that he was above throwing fools around), and to be firm.

As they walked around, chatting and swapping a few stories, Azuma brought up a current situation that he thought he might be able to use a second pair of eyes on, concerning a fight from a dojo challenge a few days prior. “We’ll head to a neutral third place to review the videos, again, and hopefully an outside perspective can give us some ideas on whether the fight was fought fairly. Fighters and the Yokai can get aggravated quickly if they feel like a strategy is too inescapable, or especially if they think somebody is sandbagging. It’s a despicable practice. Some matchups are just plain bad for one fighter, though, and then they get frustrated that they got hard-countered and throw out an accusation of sandbagging, which is a frustration all its own.”

Zenkichi was trying to follow the conversation, and most of the lingo he caught, but that last one flew right over his head. ”Hard countered?” Azuma nodded, probably reminding himself that Zenkichi was, in fact, an outsider despite his quick recovery and ability to adjust his fighting style against Kyanta.

“It’s when a fighter is so utterly incompatible against their opponent that it’s barely worth having the fight in the first place. If you stuck with that sword, I’d argue you could be easily hard-countered by a quicker fighter who could bleed you down with rapid attacks and back out of your range before you retaliate, but I saw that you can switch your fighting style up when necessary. Anybody who fought like you with a more rigid attachment to your sword might be less lucky, though most fighters have one or two tricks up their sleeve that they can level the playing field with.” It was a bit of a long explanation, but it sufficed to give Zenkichi a good idea of what he meant.

”Gotcha. Man, the fighting scene here is a bit complicated. Might just be me, though. Old dogs and new tricks, as you know.” Azuma gave a commiserative chuckle as the two followed on to a small but nice-looking restaurant. They joined a
Luchador and a dark-skinned man in a pinstripe suit sitting around a table, along with one of the robots he’d seen earlier at the registration.

“Gentlemen.” Azuma greeted, grabbing their attention and gesturing to Zenkichi. “This is Zenkichi Hasegawa, a colleague I’ve brought along to give a new perspective on your fight and to hopefully put this matter to a rest. Zenkichi, the gentleman in the mask is El Blaze, and this is Zack.”

The Luchador nodded, gesturing for the pair to take a seat. “I look forward to vindication.” Zack rolled his eyes, giving Zenkichi a look that screamed ‘get a load of this guy.’

“You lack wall game, to answer your question from when I beat you.” He replied, which earned a scoff, but Azuma cut them off.

“Gentlemen!” Waiting for the pair to cool off, he continued. “Zenkichi will be reviewing the video of your fight and we will discuss what happened, and what he thinks, if anything, should be done. Until then, let the man work.” The pair seemed a bit unimpressed, but Azuma countered their unspoken words. “You may not know him, but I’ve seen him fight, and he helped deal with a Seethe that broke out in a neighboring village. He has my trust.” Begrudgingly, the pair agreed to submit to Zenkichi’s ultimate judgment. The robot placed a tablet onto the table before them, Azuma hitting play on the video that was queued.

As the video of the fight began, Zenkichi already found a bit of trouble following the action. Both fighters were very quick, with Zack taking the edge in range and El Blaze eking out a small advantage in being able to duck Zack’s attacks easier. The fight was fairly balanced for the first few seconds, before El Blaze managed to land a devastating grab and throw which he quickly combo’d into a series of hooks before finishing with a series of acrobatic kicks to knock Zack into the dojo’s wall.

The larger fighter quickly sprung to his feet, blocked a punch, and grabbed El Blaze before slamming him into the wall, crashing his knee into the smaller man’s gut several times. As El blaze stood, Zack capitalized on his recovery time, launching a step kick into a low jab, which he brought into a rising uppercut which launched El Blaze into the air, defeated.

“See? Robbery!” The Luchador pointed at the screen, “I had him on the ropes, I took control of the fight in a few seconds, but then he puts out that ridiculous grab and finish combo. I thought with our speed matchup it’d be a legitimate bout, but how is a person supposed to counter that?”

“By not putting me against a wall. Like I said, you lack wall game. You can ring out for days, El Blaze, but against me you just can’t let yourself get backed into a corner. Just because you got yourself caught in a knockout spiral, doesn’t mean my combos are ridiculous, or that you got properly robbed. It was a matter of a strategic error is all. Whether you’d have kept the momentum without that mistake, I don’t know, but I do know that I beat you fair and square.” Zack retorted.

Rewinding the video and playing it back one more time, Zenkichi paused it right as Zack grabbed El Blaze. ”Here.” he added, rewinding a second, and turning the tablet around so the others could look, before replaying in .25x slow-mo. ”El Blaze, you had an opportunity to disengage and retake the fight on your terms, but you missed it. It was short, but based on your size and acrobatic style, you could have slipped around his kick and past his guard right…there.” He pointed to the moment, letting it slowly tick by as they watched Zack’s kick connect.

El Blaze watched, his face falling as he slumped. “I…I see it. I could have gotten that fight, if I had been just that little bit quicker.” Sighing, he buried his face in his hands. Zack, magnanimously, slapped his hand onto El Blaze’s shoulder and gave him a solemn nod.

“El Blaze, my Luchador friend, let’s squash this beef, eh? What’s one bout between fighters? It’s not like you got shut out, either, you landed a pretty nasty combo on me to kick things off.” He reminded his former combatant, trying to bolster his spirits.

Zenkichi nodded, rewinding back to show Zack getting launched by the acrobatic kick combo to accentuate the point. ”And it’s clear neither of you were sandbagging. Just make sure to work on your evasion.” Pausing the video and handing the tablet back to the robot, Zenkichi stood up. ”So, I think we can all agree now, there was no robbery here.Just a good combo.” Both fighters nodded, standing up with a handshake.

Azuma gave them all a toothy smile, standing up with Zenkichi and giving him a slap on the back. “Excellent work there, Zenkichi! And good eye, I don’t think anybody else would have caught that so easily.” As the pair got up to leave the restaurant, he continued. “You and your friends are going to be a good thing for this city, I’m sure.” Zenkichi kept his poker face as best he could, thinking about the havoc left in the wake of the Seekers’ actions in Midgar.

”No pressure, huh?” He laughed, a little nervously, before looking up to the Top Tier. ”We’re definitely looking to make an impression, that’s for sure…” The underlying meaning of his message was missed by Azuma, who looked up with him.

“Lofty goal for a bunch of newcomers, but that’s no reason to try and rain on your parade. I wish you all luck. I’m sure we’ll see each other more, but for now I’ll let you get back to your friends. It was a pleasure working with you.” He stopped, turning to offer his hand, which Zenkichi grabbed and gave a professional shake.

”Likewise, Azuma. It was nice to get a little work in. Let me know if you need a hand again.”

With the viking in tow, Mokou exits the staff center and returns to the stagecoach, whistling sharply to alert the other two of their brother’s return. As they approached, Mokou stopped in her tracks, letting the third brother go ahead on his own and return to his brethren, hands on her hips and a small, almost imperceptible smile on her face. Old as she was, she always found it refreshing to guide lost souls back together.

With their gratitude already clear, each of the brothers offered Mokou a gift: An individual fourth of a glass heart that, even fractured, radiated with life. Mokou herself had no use for this: Extra life meant nothing to one with an eternity to spend, but she still knew the value it could have. Any other person in this group that came here might value these pieces highly. Thus, Mokou simply pocketed them, giving a small smile to the three brothers, “Thanks. I’m going to stay here for a bit to make sure this group is good to move too, but if you need to go somewhere else and need a little escort just holler at me” she says, spinning on her heel and heading over to vacant bench and quickly lounging on top of it, folding a leg over the other, shifting her body slightly to be as comfortable as possible before closing her eyes, not quite sleeping but also clearly attempting to relax.

Even in her resting state though, Mokou could hear the sounds of battle in the distance. Yet despite it, Mokou didn’t rouse from her spot, and in fact, if anyone tried to get her up, she’d simply give a dismissive wave of her hand. While she was certainly making sure that this group was together by the time they all left, she was also fairly confident in their ability to handle a loose problem.

And also because she couldn’t be certain she wouldn’t accidentally hit one of them with her feathers if she did go and help fight whatever was inside that greenhouse.

“You broken piece of shit! Look what you’ve done! You tore my glasses with that stupid energy dome! I want this man to be banned! Banned from the ‘Divekick’ program, banned from every single tournament in the town! I demand each and every single one of his moves be nerfed as a penalty!”

Again, the geeky man protested with a raised voice, ever-so-critical about Terry’s performance as usual. He thought it was well-deserved, seeing how he never came to appreciate what the brawny blonde had in store for both his opponents and the audiences alike, but at the same time, he felt sorry. Sorry for the damages caused upon the once cozy interior. Sorry for the injuries that he might’ve inflicted upon the clueless audiences. Channeling his grief into something much more explosive had never been his intention. He was completely overwhelmed by that time, unable to think nor stifle what remained of his internal force. Even now, he still had a hard time trying to come to terms with the memories that’d come coursing back into his rather miniscule brain.

Urgh… Good grief, I think I messed it up! It ain’t supposed to end this way. Guess it’s only a matter of time till those goddamn noises gimme another headache, huh?

Even the lalafell’s reprimand didn’t affect the ever-mocking crowd, as the chants continued to be sounded, their voices louder and heavier. Their demand was clear: the competing fighters had to proceed to the second round or else, they were ‘rigged.’ He was normally composed, indifferent about what anyone had to say about his performances, but with his current state of mind and the crowd this obnoxious? Would he be able to remain level-headed much longer? Especially not when part of the crowd started scoffing at him personally…

“What is this bullshit? Why do they stop beating each other up?? I want my money back!”

“Yeah, for real! No second round, no buy!”

“Like we’re supposed to sell what any of these wimps are tryin’ to sell us, anyway.”

“I knew it! I knew that blondie was no good. He’s just one of those Ken wannabes trying to act all tough and rough.”

“Well, duh! What can you expect? He’s just Ken with a hat. And now his hat ain’t even there no more.”

“Who cares? Kyo and Iori are better fighters, anyway! And they draw seats, unlike this overrated, generic piece of shit gaijin y’all pushed to be KOF’s ‘true mascot.’”

“I know right? Think about it, the last time this guy main evented KOF, ain’t nobody gave a damn about him passing the torch to his doofus foster son. Like, literally, what’s the hype? Who asked for that? Who was it even for? I just want my Kyo and Iori bromance for the sixteenth time.”

“Is this what you called a top level performance from a top-tier fighter? Heh. Top level, my ass! That gaijin can’t even pull out a watchable combo to save his life. Send him back to one of those kuso ass dojos ’round here!”

“Hey, hey, y’all calm down! Lower your expectations a little. You can’t expect much from a non-fighter who fights like a comic book character. Can’t even tell a right hook from a fish hook, I bet. No wonder he’s washed!”

Even outside of the KOF dojo, the same noises were partly present. Same mockery, same harsh criticisms, and the same kind of derogatory nicknames being used to belittle him. It was as though a sizable fraction of Esaka had come to an agreement that Terry was barely in his prime anymore, and that his place among the ranks of the flashier, slightly younger KOF competitors was far from deserving. He just stood clumsily, trying to absorb each and every harsh word directed towards himself and the other Seekers as his keen eyes shifted from one visitor to another. It was clear that a number of people did feel bad for him and the crew, yet their voices were greatly muffled by the louder, more spiteful part of the gathering bunch. Even worse now that the proprietress had entered the scene, yelling and trying to cast every visitor out of the teahouse, instead of calming the rioting crowd. Terry and the other competing fighters were no exceptions. Gritting and frowning, the former KOF champion had begun to lose his cool.

“Jesus Christ! Just…”

POW!

BOOM!

Shocking the entire teahouse, he knocked the already damaged floor with an energy-laced fist, a spark of geyser-like projectile flickering. Nobody received the impact this time around. What came later was merely a trembling ground, a broader fracture, then the furious urge of one Hungry Wolf.

“SHUT UP!!”

And just like that, the gesture and the exclamation effectively silenced the rioting crowd. At least, for now. They’d become too stunned to speak, not anticipating somebody as carefree and cheerful as Terry to be this furious. It seemed scary in a way. He drew his fist out of the pummeled ground, but the moment he tried to steady himself…

“Agh–!!”

He was brought back to his knee, one hand grasping the lowered head. Clearly, the former KOF champion hadn’t fully recovered, even after Amaterasu had tended to his injuries. Just remembering the long lost memories he’d recently discovered—coupled with the suffocating scents of Madam Bo’s and the mother bear’s cigars—nearly prompted him to throw up. Thankfully, he’d only suffered from the barest hints of nausea, and when he attempted to stand out of his kneeling position, the school girl hurriedly approached, combing and pushing through the rowdy crowd gathering downstairs. Her worried visage and arms were slightly bruised from the impact of the Power Stream, the ‘Fatal Fury’ cap he gave her loosely circling her brown head.

“Terry-san! Oh, God… Are you okay?” she asked, then hunched her shoulders, settling a comforting hand over his shoulder. “I’ve been worrying about you. What was going on?”

Terry slowly nodded, his hand slowly leaving his head. “Y– Yeah, I’m okay, buddy. Don’t worry,” he reassured, then firmly gripped her hunched shoulder for support, gradually managing to stand on his feet. “I just need some time alone, it’s all…”

The brawny blonde strolled past the concerned fangirl, then picked up the duffle bag he left sprawling across the floor by its rough strap, letting its heavy frame burden his shoulder. He revealed another red-and-white baseball cap out of the back pocket of his jeans, sporting it back around his head. He started striding out of the teahouse.

“Yeah, that’s it, we’re leaving,” he said before halting his boots to glance at both the crew and the new fellow past his shoulder, his fingers tipping the brim of his cap. “What? There’s no use stayin’ here much longer. If y’all wanna find me, just meet me up at the tier above. There’s an elevator nearby that’ll help you reach out to the higher tiers, capiche? And…” He stifled his mouth, blue eyes darting between the remaining crew, Yayama, and the school girl before saying: “...thank you.”

Terry didn’t bother elaborating why he thanked the particular individuals mentioned. His mind had been loaded with a lot of unresolved things, and he just wanted to part ways with the place as quickly as he could, believing he’d find comfort or anything outside. Perhaps, he wanted to thank them for their genuine concern, for the friend heart that’d set him free, but who knows? He wished he could’ve expressed his gratitude better. The crowd continued to eye on Terry, as his striding form became more and more distant in view.




Esaka’s Middle Tier. For most residents, the city’s Low Tier was where they began their journey, but for Terry, the Middle Tier was his true starting point. His time in the Low Tier was relatively brief, to say the least, as it served more as a stepping stone for him to be vouched for one of the prestigious dojos around the neighborhood: ‘Fatal Fury,’ formerly known as the ‘Hakkyokuseiken School of Ancient Martial Arts.’ Unfortunately, as was the case for the Kyokugen Dojo, the Fatal Fury dojo was discontinued after it, too, was bought and merged with the former by the Kagura Enterprises to establish what was known today as the KOF dojo.

It was true that the Middle Tier resembled a regular Japanese city, particularly modeled to look like one from the 80s or 90s. The shrines and the modern day structures coexisted harmoniously, creating a sense of balance between tradition and modernity—of past and present. Unlike the jumbled mess that was the Low Tier side of the city, the buildings here were organized in definitive rows, divided into sections. For instance, it was easier to differentiate between a housing complex and a martial arts dojo in the Middle Tier than it was in the Low Tier. The Middle Tier was slightly more tranquil and composed, making it a perfect spot for those who wished to cool down after an intense day. Frankly, it was the exact sensation that Terry was chasing after aside from the soothing sense of nostalgia it might offer.

While aimlessly wandering from one street to another, Terry managed to come across several places he hadn’t visited in a while. His favorite amusement arcade was still present, flawlessly maintained after tens of years since its grand opening. The neon light displaying the words ‘Neo Geo Land’ remained hanging above the entrance, colored in striking red and yellow, while the vibrant building’s upright form cheerfully stood close to a sea of dojos sprawling ahead of him. Popular names like ‘Darkstalkers,’ ‘Rival Schools,’ ‘Power Stone,’ ‘Soul Calibur,’ ‘Dead or Alive,’ ‘Eternal Champions,’ ‘Melty Blood,’ ‘Bloody Roar,’ ‘Brawlhalla,’ ‘Rivals of Aether,’ and ‘Samurai Shodown’ were the first to greet his weary gaze. Sandwiched between them were some of the smaller, lesser known dojos, such as ‘Martial Masters,’ ‘Thrill Kill,’ ‘World Heroes,’ ‘Fighter’s History,’ ‘Primal Rage,’ ‘Kizuna Encounter,’ ‘Rage of the Dragons,’ ‘Blade Strangers,’ ‘Pocket Bravery,’ and ‘Diesel Legacy’ just to name a bunch. Just peering over the sight, he was unsure whether or not this was merely a tactic used by them to draw awareness to their existences, but regardless, he always figured those obscure names would’ve stood out just fine, even without the aid of the other, more popular dojos.

Above the row of neatly kept buildings was the same billboard Pit just came upon early on, showcasing lists of zeroed score entries ready to be filled after the next series of tournaments had concluded. It’d been so long since Terry had ever inserted his name on one of those entries, and he was barely certain if he’d ever be a high scorer anymore. At least, not after years of staying on the sidelines. Nevertheless, he still hadn’t lost hope. Not after seeing firsthand just how well his new teammates held their own in a fisticuffs.

Moments later, the lists of empty entries shifted away, replaced by a series of consecutive advertisements. Showing numbers and shortened names wasn’t the billboard’s sole function, after all. Numerous big events were promoted, some totally unrelated to tournaments and fighting. The most notable examples included the dates of the future concerts involving the famed yet beloved Athena Asamiya, as well as those of the controversial bunch that was the CYS trio. It was an amusing sight, to say the least, as much as it was the advertisement for Takuma’s Grill and the daily ‘Winners Don’t Use Drugs’ reminder that came later. Then, there was a missing person campaign that appeared significantly darker and grittier than the prior advertisements. His amusement was cut short when the campaign began revealing the faces of the ones he knew and cared for.


Have you seen… us?

The crimson headline made it seem as though the fighters being pictured were asking Terry if his investigation had fruited any significant progress. The truth was, not even the barest hints of progress had been made. For years, he’d tried everything in his power to track down his missing fellows, yet despite having traveled all across the nation and beyond, he was yet to find a single clue in regards to their whereabouts. Even with the help of seasoned investigators like Chun-Li, Lei Wulong, and Kevin Rian, still not a single lead was found. It was as though they were vanishing without a trace, refusing to be searched nor discovered. But then, there was a worse possibility. What if a grander entity was involved? Something or somebody as influential as the Four Kings? No, that couldn’t be the case. It might make a lick of sense, sure, but what was it exactly that they did to infuriate them, anyway? Did it really have anything to do with what he’d been opining in regards to Rugal?

Right… Somebody or some folks know exactly what’s up in Esaka. They must’ve known something about my missing friends and family that I dunno yet. But what could it be? Hmm…

Terry’s hand held his mandible high, narrowing eyes scanning and contemplating on each and every word selection arranged for the campaign. The question, the matter-of-fact statement, the underline, did it try to tell something? Something much grander yet darker behind the curtain? It was as if Kevin or whoever was working on the displayed campaign knew a secret, but was afraid to reveal it. Clearly, a powerful figure had orchestrated some sort of a massive abduction, hadn’t they? It couldn’t be a coincidence when each and everyone of his buddies continued to vanish all of a sudden every time he questioned, not just the KOF dojo, but Esaka as a whole.

Or I dunno… Maybe I was just thinking too deep into this. What if it isn’t as serious as I thought?

Then, the hat-wearing bruiser shrugged. Once again, he attempted to maintain a positive outlook, even though his quizzical face showed otherwise. No matter how hard he tried to put on a positive front, the unresolved situation was hard to dismiss. He really missed Andy, Joe, Mary, Rock, and several others not included in the campaign so damn much. And just when breaking out of the mind control was believed to unravel the thread, it only tousled the thread further, as he now had to digest the tragedy and the trauma he had to deal with just moments before the merging of the worlds. The burden had only become heavier and heavier each time, and he knew he couldn’t endure it alone—not when he was still a bit puzzled. He needed explanations—of Galeem, of the World of Light, and of the misfortune that he and his loved ones had to go through.

Yeah, I could use some help. No, no, no, I have to be helped. Just walking around aimlessly ain’t gonna solve a thing. Maybe I gotta tell the detectives. They’re right there, ain’t they?

The enormous form of Big Band was hard to miss out, even from a far. Apparently, he nearly involved himself in… a scuffle with the notorious Balrog and his twin from the Killer Instinct dojo? No, it didn’t seem like that the way it unfolded, though. He seemed to be pulling out something out of his pocket—a badge or some sort—trying to resolve the fray that never came to be. What police department did he work for, anyway? The brawny blonde had traveled anywhere and found nothing, but who knows? Perhaps, Band could’ve been proven more competent than any of the investigators he’d reached out to, given that all of the Seekers seemed to know the mysteries of the world.

Right. Gotta say ‘hi’ to them, but… wait!

Just a couple of strides past the Kyokugen BBQ, and something peculiar instantly caught his attention. He halted right across the humongous sight, his upright form turning in its direction.


Fatal… Fury??

Terry’s eyes went truly wide, his head throwing back. He read the sign right, didn’t he? First Pao Pao Café, and now this? The sign was devoid of any visuals the last time he stumbled upon the once defunct dojo, and now that crimson scratch logo reappeared, alongside the accompanying picture depicting two boxers throwing down with each other. Perhaps, he’d been traveling frequently and was too caught up with the loss of his loved ones to properly keep up with the city’s latest updates.

The colliding noises of flails and kicks echoed from within the spacious dojo, yet they were barely as loud nor boisterous as the ones they’d regularly created from within the KOF dojo. He could vaguely point out that one or more fighters had to be sparring or training from behind the bricked wall. Was this an indication that the Fatal Fury dojo had somewhat made its triumphant comeback to the business? He couldn’t be dreaming, could he?

No way… Who would’ve thought! Maybe this is where the answer lies, after all.

Out of curiosity, Terry pivoted. Instead of approaching Azuma and the investigating bunch, he strode into the place that made him and his Team Fatal Fury, hoping to find the slightest hints of lead that might bring him closer to his closest acquaintances.

FIN.

Ugh, this was horrible! Sakura was terrible with crowds! She decided to revert back to an age old strategy that she had done when questioned by paparazzi and interviewers when they started to overwhelm her back on her old world.

”No comment! No comment! I have no comment!” She began repeating, backing up. When Nadia asked her if the amount of money she got was appropriate for her effort, Sakura looked at her and said: ”No comment!” again! Then she covered her mouth in surprise and shrug-nodded, giving Fortune her real answer with the gesture.

Fortunately, a little purple lady tried to calm things down. Unfortunately, it was Terry who ended up silencing the crowd. It looked like he needed to get away from it all to clear his head. ”Just, uh, come back to us if you need anything!” She said as Terry strode off. Fortunately, if he still wanted to participate in the tournament, he would have to talk to his Seeker teammates. So they still had that connection. Hopefully the wandering fighter didn’t decide to skip town after whatever his troubling revelations were.

Though that did put doubt into Sakura’s mind whether they actually recruited a new Seeker. Maybe this lady in armor could want to help out? She already kind of was.

Sakura looked at Yayama. ”You’re right, let’s get out of here!” She said, then to Falcon and Amaterasu. Finally, to the crowd, she offered one more round of ”No comment!” and ran out of the door.

—

Once they were free of all the commotion, Sakura looked at Yayama. ”Thanks for backing us up back there, even if things got a little hectic. Ugh, I hate crowds like that. I like, never know what to say. My name’s Sakura.” She pointed at herself.

”Are you uh…some kind of hero?” She said, not so subtly trying to gauge if she was Seeker material. ”I only ask because, y’know, we’re strangers to you, but you tried to help anyway. Like, no one wants to try and reason with an angry mob! She said with a nervous laugh.

@Lugubrious

Harry Dubois

𝒦𝒾𝓂 𝒦𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾

Word Count: 625
Level: Lv: 6 EXP: (3/60)
Lv: 4 EXP: (5/40)
Location: Forbidden Kingdom - Esaka’s Middle Tiers

Harry was sad that they didn’t find Roland or Pitt. He was excited to share his interaction with Brad and Elliot. But at the very least, he could share this with Band and Kim. And as he was recalling this interaction, Kim was just nodding his head, having grown accustomed to Harry’s rambling and interactions with others in odd situations. Harry even demonstrated for them some “moves” he was working on before he met with them again. The rather unimpressive punches and kicks didn’t seem to get a good reaction out of Kim. After Harry’s demonstration, Kim just gave a very brief clap, pretending his drunken fighting impressed him. Harry’s partner was now more worried for him, as he thought that style of fighting would help him in the tournament. Harry had no problem fighting for money and food. He had done it before and wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him. He would do almost anything to avoid sleeping on top of garbage. At the very least, he could stay at Kim’s place for the time being, and he was grateful for that.

The three detectives continued in Esaka’s Middle Tier. Harry, on occasion, would wander off to try to look at the wares of the various stores in the middle tier. And when this would happen, Kim would pull him back from the collar of his jacket like a sugar-crazed child. In this place and with Harry’s demeanour, things would go badly for the group, and that was something Kim didn’t want to happen. The other detectives also noticed the commotion. Harry came in wanting to figure out what the ruckus was all about.

” What is all this commotion about?” Harry said after flashing his RCM badge. Once again, he utilized his authority as an officer of the law to help maintain peace. Even though his jurisdiction doesn’t work here, and he did a poor job keeping the peace the last time he tried this. Even though both men were much more physically fit than Harry, he wasn’t afraid to use his authority. He had done so successfully against Measurehead before.

Kim had been watching both men arguing, and didn’t want to have to pull out his weapon like he did when Harry confronted Measurehead—listening to the reason for the escalation of their conflict. That's how similar the clothes and fighting style are. ”I do not see a similarity between you two. I don’t think you two need to trade blows because of a similar fighting style. I do believe you two could learn something from each other on how to improve your fighting style. ” Kim said, but did see how similar they were at first glance.

Harry helped Band get between the men. Making sure that they would not start trying to punch each other’s teeth out. “Don’t worry, you two will be able to go at it during the tournament. If you fight now, then you're probably going to be in jail, being unable to prove who is superior.” Harry mentioned wanting them to save their energy for their potential match. Kim was glad that they didn’t get involved in another unnecessary fight before the tournament started.

“I got a feeling we’d get lucky and be able to get into the last bracket. I sure think I’d get pretty far.” Harry smiled, but Kim bunked his arrogance.

”There are quite a lot more skilled fighters, Harry. We should not assume the tournament will be a walk in the park. We should be careful and not underestimate the other fighters.” Kim fixed his glasses that were almost falling off his nose. Harry nervously rubbed the back of his head, feeling stupid for his comment.

It was very fortunate for Ganondorf that his Flash Fire was active when Mokou’s explosion went off or it would have dealt a great deal of damage to the warlord. What wasn’t so fortunate was his Phantom Steed’s lack of immunity to fire damage. The phantom horse was caught by the blast and dispelled by it, forcing Ganondorf to abandon it early. And worst of all, he wasn’t close enough to the alligator to land on its back like he originally planned. But things only went on for a half a minute longer before the giant beast finally fell. ”Good riddance.”

Roxas was much better off for his part. He wasn’t near enough for the blast to affect him. But it was also clear that Titan and Shocker’s efforts were not as effective as he hoped they’d be. That left him with little room to act other than to watch the beast fall and offer Curaga healing to any Seeker that needed it afterward. Not much in the way of contribution, but at least it was something.

Roxas and Ganondorf both entered the Botanical Garden alongside the stagecoach and other Seekers. And once again, the group almost immediately began splitting off to cover ground. Ganondorf noted that Sandalphon was putting together a strike team party to deal with the Puppetmaster of Death. Normally he would relish the chance to fight a strong opponent, but this time Ganondorf stayed out of it. And Roxas was never the sort to enjoy fighting so in this instance the Nobody decided maybe he’d contribute more by attending to some other objective.

In truth it was a coincidence that the two of them found themselves exploring together once again. Neither spoke for a while, not having been much for conversation with one another. But they dealt with the occasional Arche Puppet just fine, nonetheless. Ganondorf’s raw strength made it easy for him to keep Puppets pinned so that Roxas could go for more surgical strikes against their flanks, either with his Keyblade or with one of his Pokemon such as Scamp or Titan.

Eventually the pair of Seekers found a door leading into another unexplored part of the Botanical Garden. The sign above read “Seed Storage”. ”Seeds? Don’t we need something like this for the Area Guardian?”

”Mistletoe.” Ganondorf confirmed with a short nod. He tried the door and found it to be locked tight. ”Tch, figures.” But that was when Roxas stepped up.

”Leave this to me.” He said, summoning one of his Keyblades. With a small flourish and tap of the blade on the door, the locks clicked themselves free and the door opened for them. Once again, locked chests and doors were nothing for someone chosen by the Keyblade.

”Hmph.” Ganondorf grunted with approval as he stepped inside, ”Suppose it stands to reason that a weapon called a Keyblade would be enchanted for opening locks.” He commented, filing the information away in his mind for later.

Upon entering, the two found shelves lining the walls with storage containers bearing labels of various plant species, scientifically labeled but with their common layman names added in brackets. Plants ranged from flowers, to toxic weeds, and even fruits and vegetables. But storage containers were not the only objects in the room. There were also portable tube-like devices labeled as Vegetubes, that according to their instructions were able to act as portable gardens for growing seeds.

But unfortunately, the Seed Storage Room was not unguarded. Sprouting up from a large planter pot in the central most part of the room was what could only be described as a sentient plant woman. She was a bit sickly looking - probably a result of whatever experimentation was going on in this zoo - but otherwise she likely would have been seen as quite a beauty to look at. But while she did indeed look sickly, she did not look like any of the Carcasses. It was possible she was still alive, albeit seemingly feralized as a result of whatever she’d been previously subjected to.

Due to her plant body, Ganondorf almost decided to let loose a stream of draconic fire breath on the Siren but second guessed himself instead. She may very well be vulnerable to flames due to her nature, but obviously the rest of the plants and seeds in the room could also burn should the fire spread and go out of control. And Ganondorf did not want to risk losing access to mistletoe because of a miscalculated fire attack. ”Don’t use flames.” He told Roxas next to him.

Roxas had called out Scamp from his Poke Ball, having initially intended to use a combination of Fire Fang and Firaga Spells. But he paused at Ganondorf’s words, ”Why not?” He asked, but then looked around and remembered the seeds surrounding them before answering his own question. ”Oh, right… yeah.” But he didn’t let himself be deterred as he pointed a finger forward, ”Scamp - use Nuzzle!”

As the Boltund bounded forward at high speed to obey his trainer, Ganondorf’s grip on his spear tightened before he dispelled the weapon from his hands and drew Litania and the Acidic Curved Greatsword that Roxas had previously given him. ”Time to clip some hedges.” He grunted as he strode forward.

Scamp’s speed allowed it to quickly close the distance and get off his attack before the Siren could react. Nuzzle did minimal damage, but inflicted Paralysis. That would hopefully keep the Siren’s attacks sluggish while Ganondorf brought the raw damage. Speaking of which, only now did the Siren manage to attack, summoning thorny pillars beneath the advancing warlord’s feet that nearly knocked him off his footing. So while Ganondorf was forced to cut his way through the thorny barrier, Roxas vanished on the spot.

”Tag!” Roxas shouted as he reappeared behind the Siren and tagged her with his StepSword. It damaged her a bit, but Roxas was more concerned about it allowing him to close the distance and bypass the thorns that Ganondorf was hacking away at. ”Scamp, return!” Roxas called, narrowly managing to recall his Pokemon before the Siren could attack with a singular thorny pillar. Rather than switch to another Pokemon, Roxas instead unloaded a flurry of Keyblade strikes before a protective barrier of thorny pillars forced him to back off momentarily.

And now Ganondorf cut his way through the thorns, ”That won’t stop me!” He bellowed as he resumed his lunge toward the siren as her thorny barrier subsided. Finally the Gerudo’s blades found their mark, hacking into the Water Lily Siren’s plant body like a machete through thick jungle vines. Ganondorf’s Acidic Greatsword bit into the Siren’s with venomous acid bites on each swing, adding to the building damage against the plant enemy. But the Siren still had tricks to use.

She used her powers to make various seeds nearby rapidly grow into semi-sentient minions that attacked the two Seekers. While Roxas fought off a pair venus flytrap minions, Ganondorf whirled around and sliced a lunging watermelon in two before snatching one of the halves in midair and taking a big satisfying bite out of it. ”Delicious.” He taunted, appreciating the chance for a bite of fresh food to help his biomass regeneration along.

Here was where Roxas had an idea. ”Shocker!” He shouted, calling the Rotom from its Poke Ball. The siren was a plant, so that made Roxas wonder if an ice attack would be effective if the logic he’d learned from training Pokemon held up. And Ice was much less risky toward the seeds in the room as a bonus point. ”Use Blizzard!” The Rotom gave its electronic cry as it unleashed a torrent of wind and snow on the Water Lily Siren.

As the snow formed on spots around her body, the Seekers couldn’t really tell how effective the ice-type attack was. But it was hurting her regardless of whether or not she was elementally weak to the attack. And Ganondorf was keen to continue his onslaught with his Greatswords, letting the Acidic strikes from his curved greatsword continue to add a biting edge to the damage he was stacking on top of Shocker’s Blizzard.

Whether it was by the Blizzard or Ganondorf’s blades, the Water Lily Siren shrieked and cried out as she slowly began to whither and eventually die off, leaving behind her spirit for Ganondorf to bottle and save for later. ”Now that that’s out of the way…” he gestured around the room. ”Look for the mistletoe. And I’m thinking the rest of the fruit and vegetable seeds should be sent back to the Avenger with those tubes. Could help them with their foot shortage problem.”

Roxas nodded, already beginning to read different storage container labels in search of Mistletoe. ”Halo? Good news. Me and Ganondorf found a seed storage room that might have mistletoe in it. And it’s got lots of fruit and vegetable seeds and portable Vegetube devices for growing them. Should we bring them back to you to send them back up to the Avenger?”

Meanwhile, Ganondorf was the one who found the mistletoe seeds and indicated to Roxas that he found them. ”That’s the main objective dealt with.” He said as he then summoned a squad of Moblins to help haul containers of other seeds as well as the Vegetubes back to the stagecoach. Sandalphon could send them back to the Avenger immediately or hold onto them for now and send them later. Either way, the Seekers had just inherited a nice method for replenishing their fruit and vegetable stockpile.

After managing to evade law enforcement and hide among the citizens of Shinjuku in their borrowed forms, Junior and Rika could finally resume their search for that elusive cassette tape store. As they meandered among the populace, though, they could definitely get the sense that something had changed as a result of their actions. Both everyday pedestrians and news broadcasters alike were buzzing, less about a couple of suspects on the run from the police, and more about the supposed sighting of an ethereal outside a hollow. Apparently, this wasn’t just something that had never happened before, but something that shouldn’t be able to happen period, since ethereals supposedly couldn’t exist outside the ether-rich environment of a hollow.



Fortunately, nobody paid too much attention to the Koopa Kids in their new disguises. It took a while to track the cassette store down, in part due to its unorthodox name: Gramophone Cafe. At length the two finally reached their destination and pushed through the door to find a modest establishment with checkboard tiles and blackboard menus. A single employee worked behind the counter, Clemence, wearing a red tie and her equally red hair down over one eye, grinding beans and steaming milk to make coffee for her loyal customers. She did have a bipedal delivery bot to help her out, at least. There weren’t just cappuccinos and cold brews on offer, though; a rack of different kinds of blank cassette tapes confirmed that this was the place the kids had been looking for.

A quick look around confirmed the presence of a few other customers in the store. Furthest away sat an intelligent construct in streetwear, jamming away to the tunes on his headphones as he played on a handheld console. With a television test pattern in lieu of a face, he probably wasn’t here for the coffee, but for the pleasant atmosphere. Nearby, a businesswoman with black horns and short white hair was competing against him in a turn-based strategy game on her phone, casually sipping coffee as she built up more and more of a lead. Not far away rested a middle-aged man with a green overcoat and white umbrella, so comfortable that he’d apparently fallen asleep at the table. Lastly, there was a young family closer to the counter. A thin man with messy dark hair, glasses, and a distinctive orange scarf sat by a woman with long, dirty blonde hair and white wings on her head, her black tank top slightly stretched by baby weight she’d never quite managed to lose. In the man’s arms sat their daughter, a bright and joyful girl of no more than two or three, with little wings of her own in her chestnut-brown hair and no trace of sunset-red light in her eyes.

When the little girl saw Rika in her beast form, her eyes lit up as she pointed. “Hop..Hop…Hopskin!”

Her father laughed. “Yes, Clover, that’s a Hopskin! Very good!” His soft English accent seemed very proud.

His wife chuckled, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow. “Guess we know where she got her smarts from, eh love?”

“I’m not sure that…oh, d’you mean me this time?” Her husband raised his eyebrows at her, prompting a good-natured punch in the shoulder. In the aftermath he shot the newcomers an apologetic look. “Scuse us, Clover’s crazy about cassette beasts. Just about learned them all by heart. Though of course, you’re not truly a beast.”

Rika, who was the one wearing the guise of the Hopskin, would have blinked its eyes in surprise if it could at this, not particularly used to being addressed out of the blue like this. Or with typical children who weren't, well, like them. Plus that last comment made her take a notable step back, and for the blade beneath the trenchoach to twitch, which wasn’t a good look.

Seeing his sister’s discomfort with this, and also worried (entirely validly) that she would do something drastic in response to being ‘detected’ like this, stepped in front of her, beaming with Undyne’s toothy grin.

”Yeah no worries we think they’re pretty great too” he said, trying to keep the conversation on tapes and not on who was beneath the ‘mask’ so to speak. Besides, this was the second time they’d heard about ‘cassette beasts’ specifically in the city, and so he was genuinely interested to ask ”But I didn’t know they were they’re own, like, specific thing. I mean. Obviously I guess, but there’s so many different kinds of people… Creatures... Monsters out there, ya know? Till someone tells you there’s lines between em you don’t see em”

Junior glanced over at Rika, who had fortunately been distracted by the cafe menu (running around a hollow worked up an appetite especially when you were a kid avoiding eating your veggies). Rather than break this off, however, he leaned against the wall and tried to look cool (mainly because he thought Undyne looked cool and that she’d totally do this kinda lean if she wasn’t doing important guard leading stuff) and then asked ”You two also fans?”

The man smiled as he tousled his daughter’s hair, careful with her head wings. “Mostly for her sake, really. Though, I'd be lying if I said they weren't interesting. There's no scientific explanation for how the tapes work, you know. They just…do.”

“Pretty fun though, innit love?” The woman grinned. Though she also had an English accent, hers was a coarse cockney compared to her husband’s more refined speech. “I en't been in a proper firefight in ages, so cassette fightin’ keeps me sharp. Ever since Clover here took a shine to ‘em, we've been collectin’ ‘em, tryin’ to tape all the original beasts. Only, there’s so many of the sparkin’ things…”

“Eunie!” The man admonished, covering Clover’s ears as she giggled.

Eunie covered her mouth, acting surprised. “Whoops, sorry Taion me love, don't know what came over me~”

“Hopskin, Hopskin!” Clover sang, beaming at Rika. “Fight, fight, fight!”

Taion gave her an apologetic glance. “Cassette fights get her so excited,” he explained. “All those flashy moves, she can't get enough.”

Having been trying to ignore the attention, Rika now failed as she glanced over and actually looked at the kid this time, and only now really took in that Clover’s eyes were free of Galeem’s light. She tilted her head in confusion before remembering the whole thing about children being free of the system by default. Or rather separate entirely. Meaning they only lived once.

Given that the ship girl thought of this as her only life as well, given how much it deviated, she felt a little pang of empathy for this little one. Enough to awkwardly, carefully, extend Hopskin’s claw and use it to wave at her, before glancing at Jr and bobbing her head towards the kid.

”huh? You wanna fight?” Jr asked, confused, before coming to his own conclusions and turning back to Clover’s parents and offering ”Guess we could do with the practice. Plus advice. Not exactly used these for too long”

”Where do you do that kinda stuff? The city seems pretty bor-peaceful, ya know? Besides the Hollows. And the crazy internet”

At that point Clemence, who'd been listening in since the Koopas were right by her counter, spoke up in a soft French accent. “We do have a lot out back where cassette users can practice. And if anyone's tapes take damage, I do sell rewinds and respools.”

Clemence wasn't the only one drawn to the conversation. “Huh? There’s gonna be a tape fight?” From his seat in the back, Teevee lowered his game and looked over. “Real tape fights are always two on two, though. You lovebirds gonna show these newbies how it goes?”

“Could be fun,” Eunie looked over at Taion, grinning.

He seemed less enthusiastic. “I'd rather just watch but…maybe.”

“Well, I've been itchin’ to give my new tape a try!” Teevee stood, revealing that his headphones were connected to a cassette player. He glanced over at his competitor. “How about it, miss Malina?”

Though she looked rather sour, the demoness didn't seem totally opposed to the idea. “Well…” she grumbled. “Tape fighting is pretty much a turn-based strategy game.” With a sigh she got up. “Whatever, sure.”

Rika had not at all intended this. After all, if she lost, then she lost her disguise, and then they’d probably have problems if anyone here had paid attention to the news beyond the bit about an ethereal outside of a hollow. Jr apparently hadn't thought about this, or was just arrogantly assuming she’d win with a monster she’d never even used before, saying ”Alright, let’s do this” as he confidently strode towards what he assumed was the back door.

On the other side of the door lay a tarmac lot completely enclosed by brick buildings, except for the paved alleyway that provided the sole access for sufficiently small vehicles. Half of the courtyard appeared to be a parking lot, with five out of six spots filled with either cars or bikes, and the sixth reserved for neighboring buildings’ dumpsters. The other half, courtesy of a couple tall chain link fences, was a makeshift basketball court. While it had definitely seen better days, it still had hoops (if not nets) and a few strips of flaky paint outlining the three point, side, and midcourt lines. The only other signs of life here were a khaki-clad Exploreboo restfully charging in the only working port in a bangboo charging station, and a tired-looking Cryboo waiting for its turn nearby.

The Koopas were followed out into the lot by their competitors, followed by the young family, who crossed the court in order to watch from the parking lot. Teevee and Malina took up positions on the far side of the basketball court, reading their cassette players. “Alright!” Teevee pressed play, then transformed in a burst of static. When his body coalesced, he’d been replaced by a feline with a flat screen. With substantially less enthusiasm, Malina took the form of a towering vending machine demon.

The koopas took up the opposite spots in their respective guises, with Jr in particular grinning toothily as he told them that ”This isn’t really me either” as if this was some big revelation and not fairly obvious. Rika stepped up beside him a little more nervously, but fortunately a crowd of 3 was a lot less intimidating than the thought of the ones that the Esaka tournaments would have had. Plus the enthusiastic little kid was infinitely more tolerable than the Yokai where, even from as little as she had seen of both.

Plus, in a way, it wasn’t her they were watching in a way. It was the ‘Hopskin’ she had transformed into that was the focus of the kid’s attention, not Rika herself.

She could work with that, standing up a little straighter, and intentionally mimicking the movements of the one they’d recorded, wearing the shell better, in a way, than she had been. Ironically, this made her even more shifty looking, but then that was the Hopskin’s whole vibe so it worked as intended.

”Yeah, that’s more like it. Leaning into the whole vibe of em really helps, don’t it?” Jr said, noticing that, before adding ”Speaking of” before dramatically pulling off and tossing the rainjacket off like it was a dueling cape, properly revealing Undyne’s armored form below. He then twisted the hand on the outstretched arm that hand thrown the jacket into a fist, forming a glue glowing spear in the grip, before slowly swinging the arm forwards to point the spear tip at his opponents, and boldly challenging them to ”bring it on!”

While Teevee couldn’t speak as Cat-5, his dramatic action poses made his intention clear. Taking the initiative, he used the beast’s index and thumb fingers to frame a square around Junior before a crackling electric energy beam shot out, so fast that it would be very hard to dodge. In comparison, Malina’s Gumbaal beast was slow and lumbering, and rather than launching an attack, she used Gambit. Playing cards fluttered around her as an ace of spades stuck to her forehead, signifying that she’d raised her melee and ranged attack and defense, as well as her speed and accuracy, by four stages. Only time would tell if this gamble paid off, though.

That was her plan anyway, which Rika rushed in to prevent, popping her Hopskin’s head down into its coat and then popping it back out with a burst of frightful energy as she used Peekaboo to try and spook the slow foe into inaction. The fright worked, but with Malina’s accuracy already amplified so much, all it did was reduce the bonus by half.

Rika ducked her head into her coat again, but this time out of embarrassment. It was jumpscare that was the move that had stunned them back when they’d captured the recording of the Hopskin, not Peekaboo

Undyne meanwhile wasn’t exactly built for dodging, armored up as she was, and so the cool factor Jr’s dramatic challenge was immediately undercut by being hit by one of the fish woman’s type weaknesses. Electricity crackled over the woman’s armor as she became electrified, guaranteeing she’d be hit by extra damage whenever an electric type attack was used. Worse, his retaliation, based on pokemon type matchups, of launching water spears at the electric type only empowered it, granting the foe a multitarget buff that would let him hit both of them with normally single target moves.

When the Koopa Kids’ foes launched their repartee, Malina’s boosted speed brought her to the forefront. Rather than attack, though, she used Shrapnel, an inexpensive status effect that applied Conductive to Rika as well.

Now just the second-fasted beast present, Teevee’s Cat-5 followed up with another Energy Shot. When it blasted Undyne, it not only applied thirty more seconds of Conductive, but dealt an extra jolt to both Undyne and Hopskin because of it. Since each beast gained two AP per round, with an extra gained on super-effective hit, and Energy Shot cost two, that left Cat-5 at two AP, and Gumbaal at one.

Rika flicked her claw back in a revenge strike, delivering a light retaliatory strike, then lunged for Cat-5 and delivered a bite with Hopskin’s smiling grin, receiving 25% of the damage she dealt as HP back. Which felt like less than she got when she did the same with the Beast.

Also focusing on endurance, Jr used Ritual, pumping Undyne full of determination to return for one last hurrah after what looked to be his inevitable loss.

As little Clover cheered everyone on from the background, the challengers kicked off another exchange of blows, and each beast gained two AP. Three AP was enough for Malina to unleash Shield Bash, wallop that scaled off her physical defense rather than physical attack. Though Rika’s proximity made her a tempting target, she made a point to go after Undyne instead, and that full-body blow packed a real punch.

Meanwhile, Teevee went for Double Smack, slapping Rika twice with an electric paw. Despite having the same cumulative base power as Energy Shot, this move hit harder since Cat-5’s melee attack was higher than its ranged attack. Thanks to Multihit, Undyne received the same damage, and both Koopa Kids promptly received an extra jolt from Conductive. The damage was starting to add up.

It had been adding up all day and here, now, with them both transformed, they could feel a connection forming that they had bridged once before. But it wasn’t quite there yet, not in this fight.

”Endure!” Jr called out, as he, of all things, Raised Undyne’s spear up to buff his offence. Rika meanwhile used Peekaboo correctly this time, spooking Cat-5 to try and prevent it from multihitting them again via reduced accuracy.

Malina hesitated for a moment, now in trouble. She’d been counting on the huge buffs from Gambit to score at least one easy knockout before her time ran out, but Undyne was impossibly sturdy, still on her feet even after multiple electric attacks and that brutal Shield Bash. Now Malina had just one turn left, and not enough AP to use Ritual herself. Her Sugar Rush passive would be useless, too; if only she’d been able to strategize an AP-oriented team herself, and not gotten stuck with Teevee, who only cared about straightforward attacking. Oh well.

With a shrug, she used Treat on Teevee, giving him a random buff. In a stroke of good luck he received Cottoned On, but the next moment Gumball dissolved into static, reverting into Malina’s human(?) form. She slumped down onto her knees with a groan of resignation. “Up to you now, I guess.”

Surprised by this turn of events, Teevee knew he had no choice but to act. Though tempted to attack, his weakened accuracy drove him to pick Fire Wall instead. A barrier of flame surrounded him, strong enough to soak up any three hits.

”Hey nice I can hit that” Jr said with delight, even if his self buff was totally useless vs it, he still got a good swing in thrashing the firewall with a double slice that should knock off two hits, leaving Rika to use a low AP Jump Scare to try and knock off the last hit the wall could take. That left her with a small amount stored up, and Jr with basically none however (which went the same for their hp levels).

Once their attacks resolved, though, it was clear they’d been mistaken. Cottoned On allowed Teevee -and by extension his wall- to evade both attacks, even if it faded afterward. Still, Teevee had another ten seconds of lowered accuracy, and only two AP, so there was nothing for it but to try another Double Smack. Unfortunately he missed Undyne, and even though Conductive did kick in automatically, the jolts weren’t enough to take the Koopa Kids down.

Jr hesitated for a moment, and then called out ”Everything!” as he gripped the spear in two hands and delivered an all mighty swing of Desperation at the foe despite the type disadvantage. Rika followed suit, lunging forwards to deliver a hefty bite.

With Cottoned On gone, the two attacks chewed through two of the Fire Wall’s three hits, leaving Teevee with just one. It was then that his eyes cleared, and though Rika’s Conductive reaction had worn off along with his Multi-hit, he could see a path to victory. It would take too long for him to work through both foes, so he needed to be able to attack both at once despite his lost Multitarget. Teevee used Broadcast, his flatscreen displaying a connectivity symbol, to give himself Multitarget once more and prepare for the final showdown.

”Wait, I thought, uuuhhh, me then you!” Jr called out, having missed that they’d missed in the heat of the moment, and now just lightly slicing the last shield pip while Rika used up the last of her spare AP to deliver another hp draining bite.

The chomp took out a chunk of Teevee’s HP, since Cat-5 wasn’t exactly built for defense, and Rika got some of hers back. After backing off in a hurry, almost to the boundary of the basketball court, Teevee unleashed another Energy Shot split into two by Multitarget. Both Koopa Kids received a decent zap, and yet again Undyne suffered another shock from Conductive.

That was more than enough to proc ritual, causing Undyne to briefly melt and then solidify into Undyne the undying, and then get knocked right back down to low health. Rika meanwhile only survived thanks to the hp she’d drained with her bite attack.

They were on their last legs, again, and even if it wasn’t as serious a situation it was still a bit dire, given the risk that losing entailed. It was then fortunate that their ‘strategy’ involved being beaten up a lot, because that connection that had been forming solidified in that moment.

Jr beamed toothily, while Rika glanced over at little Clover and leaned her Hopskin’s head back to expose its own grin in mimicry of this, before both turned to static. The blobs of it lunged together, but unlike last time the result the resulting fusion did not come out massive and monstrous, but instead human and heroic, with just a little a little edgy.

A knight in metal armor appeared in their place, but one with a grilled helmet with two little ‘ears’ and two small gems on top that made it reminiscent of Hopskin’s head. It was also wearing a red coat over its shoulder’s, without the arms in the sleeves, like a cape, and a gold buckled belt on its hips.

Finally, in its arms, it held a scythe with a blue glowing shaft and a purple blade.

It hefted this blade, ran forwards, leapt up and, lacking any and all AP to deliver anything better, served up an empowered double slice followed by a basic smack with the base of the shaft to the foe.

Though only an amateur tape fighter, Teevee knew a fusion when he saw one. If Cat-5 could speak, he might have blurted out a resigned cuss, but he didn’t even get that chance. The fused kids’ first attack was enough to whack Teevee into the back wall, at which point Cat-5 dissolved into static. It flowed down the bricks like water, then coalesced back into the intelligent construct’s original body as he slouched down. “Ah, man…” He rubbed his electronic face, trying to massage the dead pixels back into place.

By now, Malina had risen to her feet, her expression somehow even more sour than before. “Whatever. My strategies were going to work with some random doofus anyway.”

Teevee shrugged as she swayed dazedly back into the cafe. “Well, at least we gave it our all,” he piped up.

“Woooooow, that was so so cool!” Clover cheered, unable to look away from the fusion as her parents clapped politely. “Mommy, daddy, you gotta do that too!”

The gaze of the scythe wielding fusion rested on Clover for a moment, on her eyes free from Galeem’s light, and in that moment information crossed the gap from Rika to Jr. Then, it gave the kid a thumbs up and said “yeah I am!” only to falter and correct “We are…” before greasing down into an uncertain “uhhhhh” before the fusion collapsed under the weight of existential confusion, the two very beat up component parts being ditched onto the floor. Or rather Jr in Undyne’s body ended up on the floor, while Rika and Hopskin’s ended up sprawled on top of the fish warrior.

It had been so much easier to keep it together when they had been screaming mad the whole time. Talking was, as it turned out, much harder. Which didn’t bode well for their handling of Clover and her predestined fate of becoming an orphan in at most 7 years.

Pit's latest acquaintance went by the name of Ashrah, and she was a demon slayer.

And, she'd admitted, she had a vested interest the divine for she sought to purify her own soul. Not everything divine of course (and Pit knew first hand that not every god was good), just those she sensed were virtuous. While Esaka apparently hosted all kinds of people that could be called deities - case in point the very dojo Pit had signed up with - the type that Ashrah was curious about were few and far between.

"I saw your wings, that miracle-" Pit tilted his head in confusion before he realized she must have been talking about Palutena's Warp, "-and your halo, and so I approached."

"Halo?" This time his head tipped back in the opposite direction. He was pretty sure he didn't have a halo, not even a small one, let alone the linked triple rings like Sandalphon or the elaborate winged emblem that Lady Palutena herself sported. Eventually it was the subtle shift of the wreath in his hair that clued him in. "Oh, my laurel crown!"

Pit reached up and took it off, letting out an amused laugh when Ashrah seemed to stiffen in place. She cleared hadn't expected an angel to be able to remove their halo, but a halo it was not - though it was pretty glowy now, so Pit could see why someone might think it was.

"It's more like... a radio antenna!" he said, rubbing his thumb over one of the golden feather-like leaves. His conversation partner didn't completely follow, so he tried again. "Like it strengthens the connection with Lady Palutena-" whom Pit had already told Ashrah about when they'd first got to talking, "-and makes it easier for her to see and hear what's going on down here."

They could manage just fine without it, but who could say no to a little extra convenience? Pit placed the blessed wreath back on his head as Ashrah nodded. "A useful tool then."

After leaving the lift the two of them had initially started down a random path while they talked, but soon enough they'd ended up on tier's outskirts. Currently they sat on the edge of the wall that separated the high and middle tiers, overlooking the latter below them. Because of how the city spread out, the pools and even the low tier were visible too, though Pit had to really squint to try and make anything out in the bottom-most section of Esaka.

So far chatting with Ashrah had been pleasant. Pit didn't feel bad about telling her about himself or his goddess, especially since she had freely told Pit plenty of herself already, with not a trace of deception or nervousness in her words. Not, Pit had thought somewhat ruefully, that he was all that good at telling when someone was lying. Still, he took the woman at face value, and over time that little niggling feeling from his sixth sense was all but forgotten, turned into simple background noise. The warm breeze was stronger up there and Pit sat back, putting his weight on his hands.

"So why are you hanging around Esaka?" he asked after a moment, turning a curious look on Ashrah. "There's probably more demons outside of the city than in... oh, is it because of the yokai? Some of them definitely feel like evil spirits."

"That would be the oni and their ilk. They've been rendered almost entirely harmless here, though I've cut down a few that have stepped out of line before," Ashrah replied. "But there is other evil that needs addressing. I can't just turn my back and ignore it."

"Tell me about it," Pit agreed with a nod, though Ashrah ended up taking the comment literally.

"The four kings, and among them the usurper of Outworld, Shao Khan," she said solemnly. "To depose him, myself and a few others broke away from the Mortal Kombat dojo and formed the Order of Light. Though the day he is unseated has yet to come, we fight and train tirelessly in preparation."

She pointed out their headquarters below them, which Pit recognized as one of the dojos he'd passed in the Mid Tier. His head was spinning a little bit - so he'd just happened to run into someone strong enough to have been in a High Tier dojo, and not only that but a potential rival too.

"So you're gonna be fighting tomorrow too?" he asked, but Ashrah shook her head slightly, the veil at the back of her hat fluttering.

"Our Order is still small, so to ensure there is always someone left in the case our members are defeated we rotate who participates," she explained. She made no mention of the respawning, though she wouldn't have found it strange in the first place. Pit had caught a few glimpses of her eyes beneath her head wear, and like everyone else bar the Seekers themselves they were glazed over in a reddish tone. "This time my sister Sareena will fight. Normally we choose each other as partners, but it is regrettably my turn to be one of the witnesses."

That all made sens– wait.

"Partners...?"

Pit had turned fully toward Ashrah, pulling his legs up from where they'd previously been hanging over the wall. "I thought you said you guys fought in Mortal Kombat? Isn't King of Fighters the one with partners?"

"Yes, King of Fighters is the team-based tournament," she corrected lightly, "and while Mortal Kombat is a showcase of individual strength and skill, it allows for a partner -a kameo- for quick assistance."

She hadn't expected Pit to suddenly jump to his feet and slap a hand to his head. "Really?! It took forever to find a dojo and now I have to find a partner too? Did I have to sign up with them? Oh no, it's after lunch! Can I still add one? Gaah!"

Ashrah more calmly got to her feet, hopping from the wall's lip onto the High Tier's ground. She quickly grasped that Pit would be participating in Mortal Kombat and she held up one hand with her palm open in an attempt to calm him.

"If you've already registered then you don't have to worry. If you're chosen to compete you can declare your kameo partner the day of." She then tilted her head slightly, the dip of her hat the only indication that she'd moved it. "Did you arrive in Esaka alone? A kameo role still isn't completely safe, but it's much less dangerous than competing as a fighter if you have a companion that would be amenable to it."

Pit nodded if only to show he'd heard her, but he was still consumed with a bunch of thoughts. Most of the other Seekers were already participating, and even if it was allowed to act as an assist in a different tournament than the one you were signed up for that obviously wouldn't work if the timing wasn't perfect with the match schedules. Then there were Junior and Rika who were in a completely different city, and Primrose and Therion who'd declined to participate in the tournaments at all. He could still ask one of them but if their strengths were better used elsewhere then it would be better not to. He also couldn't ask Lady Palutena to abandon Skyworld for this while it was still in a fragile place, even though teaming up with her would have guaranteed their victory. And did Ms. Fortune know about the partner thing? Would she have to go find one too?

Pit took a breath and then perked himself up by throwing his head back and puffing his chest out, placing his fists on his hips. "Yeah, okay, no worries! There's no rush to find a partner. I'll figure it out!" He hopped down from the ledge as well, giving Ashrah a smile. "Thanks for telling me about it, I would have been blind sided otherwise! I can't ask any of my friends right now, but... I bet I can come up with something. I could even find someone nice like you and ask them to team up with me!"

Ashrah smiled lightly back, an air of amusement about her. "You do have someone like me right in front of you."

It took an embarrassingly long few seconds for Pit to get what she was implying.

"Don't you have to sit this one out?" he asked with a furrowed brow. Ashrah, who so far had moved and spoken almost elegantly, gave one casual shrug of her shoulder.

"There are still others in the Order of Light who can witness. Like this I wouldn't be competing under the Order anyway," she said. After a moment she added, more seriously, "and I want to fight. This place is not Netherrealm - it should already be free from tyranny. I can help get us closer to that goal, and if I can slay the monsters that come to join Mortal Kombat on the way then all the better."

Pit couldn't deny her resolve. He'd known Ashrah for all of half an hour or so, but she was serious about this. The angel didn't have a lot of options either. He regarded her more intently as he really considered her offer. So far she had been kind, and she had to be powerful if she'd been part of a High Tier dojo. She was also a killer of demons and, as an unimportant aside, Pit sort of liked that wherever she was from named the places in their world the same way they did in Angel Land. Ashrah wouldn't be a bad pick for a partner at all he decided, but there was one thing that he'd have to make sure of first.

His face split into a wide, toothy grin and he held his hand out towards the woman. "Alright, deal! Will you be my kameo partner, Ashrah?"

"It would be my hon-" she started to say, reaching out to grasp his hand for a shake when Pit suddenly clamped his fingers around her wrist and pulled. There was certainly a lot more power in the angel than his appearance suggested, and Ashrah was forced to sprint along with him else risk being dragged. "-what? Where are we going?"

"We can be partners, but first we have to test- your- might!" Pit said to her with a laugh over his shoulder, his smile having turned mischievous. "I bet there's a good place to do it around here, there was tons in the lower tiers! Do you know any? Something out of the way, more private?"

"Ah, of course," Ashrah said. A test. She wouldn't have had it any other way. She'd gotten her feet under her and with her free hand gestured to their right. "I do know a place. Go that way."

They were a white and gold blur as they streaked across the High Tier. As they passed through the most populated areas they slowed slightly, but ultimately it didn't take that long for them to end up on the opposite side of where they started. The tier's perimeter was within sight, but it was a few blocks away from where they currently stood. A fighting ring in the shadow of a tall building, simple but well kept, like a relic of the past when compared to the more elaborate rings and dojos scattered around the area. It might have been in part because there seemed to be less and less people as the tiers went higher but there were indeed no people currently around, save for a wandering dog that spotted the gold accents on Pit and Ashrah's outfits and plopped itself down to watch and possibly ingratiate itself to the winner.

Pit released Ashrah so he could walk the ring's perimeter, glancing up and around at the general area. Besides the building that hid this makeshift arena from the sun, there were other tall, wide ones that blocked the view from one side. Otherwise there were two alleys that led around it. It didn't need to be completely private, but for now Pit wanted to save showing off for tomorrow. A one-dog audience was fine, and if their bout got heated and drew in curious onlookers that would be fine too.

He turned to face Ashrah, who stood patiently on one side. Hanging by her hip and held tight in one hand was a sword that hadn't been there earlier. As she shifted into a battle stance the blade began to emit a golden glow.

"I'm more than happy to demonstrate my strength for you," she said. "I won't hold back, so you can fulling judge me as your partner."

"Good!" Pit replied, summoning his own weapon to his hand. Not like you'll be able to once we get started, he thought as he twisted the bow's grip to turn one of its bladed sides around, its points now opposites. If she was fighting with a single sword then he'd start off that way too. his expression was still light, but when his electric-colored eyes met Ashrah's own gleaming one's she could see he intended to take the challenge he'd issued seriously.

They stood only about fifteen or so feet apart, and neither moved for several long moments. Waiting, gauging each other, even as Pit itched to jump right into action. Their observer grew bored and let out a loud, high-pitched bark to spur them into action. It worked.

Pit shot forward as Ashrah took a single step back, casting her free hand into the air and shooting a ball of light straight up. As Pit lashed out with the bow-blade, spinning it into several diagonally cuts, Ashrah raised her own blade to block. She was on the defensive but held her place, unwilling to give ground or strike out before she was ready even when the angel's weapon made it through her block and triggered the point of no return. She hardly reacted to the shallow cut on her forearm, instead it was the return of her energy ball the spurred her to go on the offensive.

The light fell on top of Pit, and though it didn't deal much damage it surprised him enough that Ashrah's kris slipped through his slashes and stabbed into the angel's chestplate. She flicked her sword to the side and caught Pit's arm, though he released his hold on his bow in order to wield it with just one hand to avoid the worse of the cut. He backed up and spun his blade into a hard horizontal slash which Ashrah met with her own spin in the opposite direction, the swords clanging against each other with a spark of golden embers. With her longer reach Ashrah snatched Pit's chifon and simply shoved him backward, not surprised when he instantly recovered and swiped his sword at her midsection. An instant was all she needed however, and she phased forward into -and through- Pit's strike.

"Huh?" he said as his sword struck her afterimage, and then, "Oof!" as she planted her foot into the small of his back and kicked him when she suddenly reappeared. Pit spun around and raised his weapon, catching the wavy edge of the kris with the curved edge of his own sword just as Ashrah brought it down in an overhead chop.

They strained against each other for a moment as a slip of own's blade would mean suffering a cut. Pit smirked then, and though this type of sneaky play wasn't really his style he did have to get one over on the martial artist to pull off his plan. He shifted the grip of one of his hands, then let go, grasping at air just behind the bow's handle. He pulled back with the same arm, drawing a line of blue light as he did. No need to aim point blank like this.

Ashrah realized what was going on even before the arrow head formed, but was too slow to avoid the shot. It was weak but it was an opening, the same way she'd created one earlier. She stepped back to readjust and felt Pit's blade bite into her side. She shrugged it off and dipped into a low block as Pit pivoted to swipe at her ankle, another spark of embers springing into life as the weapons clashed. She sprung up into the air, away from the angel, correctly anticipating that when she landed he would already have moved to intercept her. She phased again, her astral projection shooting through Pit. He stopped and spun around to guard against another back strike, only to find her on the far side of the ring and slicing the kris down through the air in front of her. A wave of energy formed from it and raced forward, and though Pit easily side stepped it the spirit slice gave Ashrah the small amount of time she needed.

She swapped her stance, a subtle change if not for the fact that the once vibrant kris now surged with murky purple shadows. Pit felt a chill run down his spine at the sight, its energy now distinctly dark in nature. There was no time to question it as Ashrah sprinted toward him and moved into a series of slashes, twisting and spinning the blade as she changed from a one handed to a two handed grip and back again - and though the roles were swapped now Pit met every pass of the sword with one of his own. She was strong, but not enough to keep the trading of blows going forever. She flagged before Pit's wealth of stamina, pulling her kris back and suffering a sharp slice to her elbow for it. Before Pit could press her she flicked the sword upward and the purple aura around it pulsed while a pillar of the same energy erupted from the ground at Pit's feet and engulfed him.

It lasted less than a second, and when it fell away Pit was revealed with his arms crossed defensively and his head ducked. He peeked out over his guard, tightening his grip on his weapon. That pillar had hurt, but it'd done something else too - he could feel it, slithering unpleasantly around him. A glance down showed that he felt it literally, as a thin streak of shadow circled his legs. He shook one them out as though that would dislodge the thing.

"What was that?" he asked as his eyes snapped back to Ashrah. She'd taken the chance to put a few feet of distance between them so that she could swap stances again. To his surprise she answered, even as she banished the dark energy and her blade shown brightly once again. "It's darkness, perfect for smiting with light!"

She charged and leapt into a downward spinning slice, but Pit skated away with Thundering Sands. He sprang forward immediately after and his sword collided with Ashrah's once more. This time he was a little alarmed to feel himself losing the contest of strength, and Ashrah completed her swing to send Pit stumbling back as the dark debuff pulsed and faded. She chanced another stance change, her strategy to weaken him with her shadows in order to do more damage. It would work, because Pit couldn't avoid everything. He was sure she could still, especially if he pulled out more of his arsenal, but thankfully he didn't really need to.

Pit recovered quickly and swung the bow upward in a harsh reverse cut, catching Ashrah in the abdomen and slicing her all the way up to her chin. Even after jerking her head back to avoid an even worse wound, the sword sliced completely through Ashrah's wide hat. As it fell away it revealed her full face, along with her demonic markings.

Pit's breath caught and his eyes widened. The dark energy should have tipped him off, but now he understood what his angel sense had been trying to tell him as it came back in force. "You're... a demon?!"

Ashrah clutched at her bleeding front, her expression pinching. She narrowed her eyes both in pain and at the sight of Pit's gaze hardening. "I am," she declared. "A demon of Netherrealm, but close to purging the last of the evil from my soul."

She was unsteady on her legs but she remained standing, Galeem's compulsion not allowing her to surrender. She began to take up her fighting stance once more. "I won't be stopped, not now. If you won't work with me now then just try and finish me-"

She gasped as she watched Pit close the distance between them within a blink and felt something sinking into her chest. She had expected it to be painful and cold, or maybe burning with holy light - instead it was warm, rejuvenating, and... pink.

This time she did fall, stumbling back and ending up dropping to one knee. Her kris clattered to the ground, one of her hands remaining clutched to her chest (the wound completely gone now) and the other gingerly touching her forehead. She blinked rapidly, her eyes no longer covered in a red sheen but pitch dark instead. Out of seemingly nowhere she was recalling the events of her life leading up to now - escaping the Sisterhood of Shadow, hunting Quan Chi and being hunted by him in return, meeting a group of ragtag warriors and traveling with them to the Living Forest... and then a bright all-consuming light, a tiered city not unlike those in Earthrealm, fighting and dying in endless tournaments like it was natural, breaking away to form the Order of Light with Sareena and...

Ashrah swallowed thickly, the same feeling of having the wool pulled from her eyes overtaking her now just as it had when she'd see Outworld for the first time and discovered that not all life was an endless cycle of misery.

"It might be a little weird, but I've teamed up with all kinds of people before, even the Underworld Army once, sort of," she heard Pit say. She raised her head and saw that his sword was resting on his shoulder and his free hand was outstretched towards her. "So if you still want to be my partner for the tournament... um, I guess you probably have a lot of questions first though, eheh..."

Ashrah was not one to hesitate, and she didn't now as she accepted Pit's offer to help her up. She dusted herself off and looked up at the skyscrapers as if seeing the world in a new light. Well, that wasn't really far off from the truth. When she looked back at Pit she bowed slightly, a formal greeting this time. "I do, but as I meant to say before, it would be my honor to fight together with you, Pit."

She straightened up, noting Pit's relieved smile. It widened into a more natural one as he chirped, "Alright! I'll answer anything you ask, and since we're partners now in return you have to answer all my questions too, okay? Everything about Mortal Kombat, all the rules and even the basics!"

If he could be completely prepared for once that would be great. Ashrah agreed, and after she collected her sword Pit launched right into his first question, pointing at the kris. "Starting with is your power from yourself or your sword? Or both!"

"A good first question. A full understanding of your kameo partner's abilities is crucial," Ashrah said, and Pit pretended like that was definitely the reason he asked. "The answer is both, though a lot is owed to my Kriss. I happened upon it when I was escaping Netherrealm - it senses evil and whenever I slay what it finds I can feel my soul being cleansed. That is what enables me to shift between light and dark. I'm not sure where its power came from, but I assume its a blessed object not unlike your crown or bow."

She held it out for Pit, apparently having no qualms about others handling the object of her salvation - or maybe she already just trusted the angel enough to hand it over to him for inspection. Pit eagerly took it for a closer look, but instead of feeling any holy energy he instead was overcome with a strong sense of vertigo. He frowned as he swayed on his feet as another feeling started to well up too, swirling slowly in his chest and threatening to seize his heart. A sense of urgency, of duty, a call not just to arms but for bloodshed.

Pit passed it back to her quickly, shaking his head slightly to clear it and really hoping a headache wasn't going to form.

"Intense, I know. I felt the same way when I first picked it up," Ashrah said as she de-materialized the kris. Pit's eyes lingered on it until it was gone, then moved to Ashrah's face.

"I don't think that's blessed..." he told her. What was the opposite of a blessing? A curse? It felt kind of cursed. But Ashrah just looked thoughtful.

"Is that so... it must be that whatever it's made of, then, or how it was forged. Whatever it is, I'm glad to have found it when I did. Without it, I wouldn't have been able to come this far."

Maybe I'm wrong? Pit thought. If it actually helped Ashrah purify herself then maybe it started off as a regular holy weapon and ended up tainted. He wasn't sure, and ultimately it wasn't his weapon to worry about, especially if it wasn't having any adverse effects on its wielder... the angel pushed the feeling of wrongness away (if he'd listened to it earlier he wouldn't have ended up finding his new kameo partner after all) as Ashrah cleared her throat.

"Let's find another venue to continue our discussion. On the way, can you explain to me what that thing you pulled from your chest was? That it could heal the body and the mind in an instant..."

"Mhm! Great, right? It's a Friend Heart! I'll tell you all about them!"

The two of them turned to head out of the backstreets of the High Tier and find a more comfortable place where they could talk. Their furry observer trotted along behind them, sensing a meal ticket.

It turned out that her efforts to assuage the crowd's doubts were all for naught. They got riled up again almost immediately after she managed to pacify them a bit (or at least turn their agitation inwards), and importantly were angling toward a point that Yayama herself was getting very curious about, making it harder for her to think of plausible ways to deflect their suspicion. Furthermore, in the midst of considering a solution to this difficulty, the man currently having a breakdown continued to do so until he was fed up with the jeering mass and treated them to another display of power. At the very least, he stopped to thank her for her efforts, which was always nice. "Just trying to calm things down a bit. Seemed like the right thing to do." She watched him walk off, keeping in mind what he'd said about where to find him later. "Good luck." She wasn't entirely certain what she was wishing him luck for, but it felt appropriate. He clearly had something important to deal with.

She followed the group of fighters out, for reasons that were in equal parts intent and coincidence. Then one of them - Sakura, evidently - introduced herself, and asked a question she never quite knew how to answer. "I am Yayama Yama of the Stalwart Sword, ex-Scion of the Seventh Dawn. Nowadays I'm just an adventurer, but I suppose a lot of people would call me a hero." It wasn't that she didn't think of herself as a hero, per se - it was just that the term felt like an oversimplification. Her journey was long, complex, and far from shining brilliantly the whole way through, with despair and hope in near-equal amounts to be found along the way. "Hero" also seemed to fit more uncomfortably as of late, for reasons she hadn't quite been able to put her finger on. "Mostly I try to lend a hand where I'm needed, and I've never been one to back down from a challenge. It seemed like your group had plenty to deal with internally," she said, vaguely nodding in the direction Terry had gone, "and the crowd was getting agitated enough to be an actual danger, so I decided to step in. Worst comes to worst, they focus on the foreigner who came here to meddle in their ancient customs and barged into a perfectly normal fight unprompted and unwanted."

The last bit wasn't entirely inaccurate. She had no intention of interfering with Esaka's culture overall - there was nothing wrong with martial practice as long as it didn't result in a decision that their less-combative neighbors didn't deserve their lands or treasures if they couldn't keep up with their standards - but the idea of a sanctioned martial arts tournament where death was not only common, but expected was an outlier she wasn't willing to simply sit by and tolerate. "I was hoping to wait a bit longer before I agitated the locals, but I suppose it was going to happen eventually. How are you holding up? That fight looked pretty intense, even if you do know one another, and the big guy seems like he's got a storm raging inside him."

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Quickly stepping to the side to give Ace and Ramattra room to maneuver, Geralt transformed into the Molar Boatworks Fixer identity before charging in. As soon as he began to move, though, the strings turned red and the puppet did the same, albeit much faster. It blew across the battlefield in a moment, forcing Geralt to pivot to the side and abandon his attack. “Deal with that thing, I’ll fight her!” He called back to the others, itching for a proper fight. Between the weakling enemies they’d fought on the way here and being simply tossed about and then swallowed by Tom, Geralt was craving a proper fight.

"You got it!" Ace responded, making to brandish the weapon he'd already had prepared. He had expected to run into the mastermind eventually, but to suddenly find that she'd apparently tucked herself away in the far corner of the garden did come as a bit of a surprise. Nevertheless the group was ready for her, and with sword in one hand and shield in the other, Ace set his sights on the enamel coated doll.

As they spoke the strings attached to the Queen’s Arch Puppet turned blue, then tightened, and the next second Markion zipped across the arena toward her puppet’s location. While still airborne, she held out her hands, and in front of each palm a luminous blue orb about half as tall as herself crystallized. “Hah!” She crashed down into the enemy squad, each orb striking the ground like a solid wrecking ball rather than an ethereal spell. After landing she performed a pirouette, and the orbs whirled around her in widening spirals that carved furrows into the floor.

While he considered leaping out to perform an aerial strike once Markiona approached, Heismay remained hidden in the shadows for now. He half-expected those orbs of hers to explode, and didn’t want to go on the offensive until he had a better grasp of the puppeteer’s abilities. As he bided his time, the eugief considered whether to try and sneak attack Markiona herself, or to sever the puppets strings, although he couldn’t yet be sure that they were physical enough to be cut.

With the large-eared swordsman keeping still and unseen, he would also be able to get a better look at how his allies fought now that they weren't dealing with the frantic chaos of keeping ahead in a chase with a massive predator.

The Cadet had chosen to stick with his sword and shield, both because the opportunity to swap had been snatched away by Markiona's quick and violent approach and because he wanted to stick close to the threats while he got his own grasp on his comrade's fighting styles. Heismay he'd already seen use the blade he carried, but he was currently out of sight - and Ace had seen very little of Ramattra besides the last few seconds of robo-zombie clean up back in Snowdin.

Ace had evaded the puppeteer's slam with a roll, back on his feet not a moment later. His eyes tracked the dragging orbs until he could slip through an opening in their spinning, after which he went right for the arche puppet, testing its durability with several hard swings of his sword.

Casting Quen with a curse as Markiona launched herself towards the group, Geralt turned back to rejoin them in battle. Rather than wait for an opportunity to slip between the orbs as they circled, Geralt leapt up and over them, landing within the circle and unleashing a barrage of slashes and punches at Markiona to keep her attention on him and off the others.

Once the Seekers attacked on two fronts, Markiona kept her cool to salvage the situation. She jumped back as she tried to put some space between her and Geralt, her right arm raised as a shield to try and mitigate the worst of the damage. When her puppet didn’t react under Ace’s assault, he found himself with enough time to complete a three-hit combo before the puppet strings turned red. Immediately the puppet perked up and unleashed a full-body roundhouse kick aimed at the monster hunter’s sword arm. The sudden movement after stillness was all that was needed to clue Ace in that something was up, and he pulled his blade back to intercept the kick. When the puppet's reinforced limb connected with the sword it sent a jarring jolt racing down the Cadet's arm, but he held fast to his weapon.

But the archpuppet didn't stick around to follow up, instead it turned and boosted toward Geralt from a four o’clock angle. En route, the puppet strings turned blue again, and Markiona struck back by summoning an orb overhead that she brought down onto Geralt like a dunked basketball. The next moment her puppet went for a fly-by blindside with its mace, not stopping its momentum as it whooshed past. Markiona snapped toward it in an attempt to get away.

Heismay tensed in his hiding spot. So far he’d been observing how these two fought, beginning to notice that they attacked in sequence rather than tandem, but now he saw a potential opportunity. Markiona’s escape put her somewhat close to his hiding spot. If the others could turn her attention away, he could spring into action.

Ramattra was able to offer a suitable distraction, manifesting a large cluster of purple energy in his palm composed of nanites. The mass swirled in his palm before he flung it with two fingers toward the puppet Markiona had regrouped with. The Vortex would form underneath the airborne puppeteer, creating a strong pull of gravity underneath her feet, which restrained her upward and horizontal movement. Hopefully, immobilizing her will prove to buy the rest of the group time to strategize and perform any ultimate/strong attacks.

Quickly unburdening his staff into a flurry of nanites, Ramattra would snap his hands together, the iconic loud chime of his form converting to Nemesis form, his massive body now stomping towards Markiona to buy any possible further time. With the physically largest threat now unleashing bursts of nanite-powered punches on the puppet master. “You will have to try harder than that, Human!” The gleam-influenced Omnic did not see this Puppeteer of Death as anything other than another human between him and his goals.

Once she found her movement hindered, and even her arche puppet grounded, Markiona reoriented herself to fight. She charged as Ramattra attacked, and after a couple punches, the omnic found his next intercepted by a large orb summoned point-black. The blow smashed into the crystalline surface, but did not blow through it completely, which left Ramattra’s fist lodged inside. Markiona hopped back, two more orbs whirling around her, then sent them both spiralling forward in a corkscrew. Rather than strike him, they pincered him in a revolving vicegrip as they rose, lifting the captive omnic into the air. “Hah…” Markiona straightened up as she wiped blood from her lip, then lifted one hand up as her puppet strings turned red. “Nasty puppet. Try this on for size!” Up above, her puppet launched into a max-speed falcon dive, its full weight behind its mace as it slammed into Ramattra full tilt.

The clang of metal against metal made Heismay wince, but he also saw his chance while both puppet and puppeteer were recovering. In silence he sprinted from the shadows and leaped into the air. His longsaber flashed, passing harmlessly through the blue string that bound Markiona to her attendant. He landed with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. “Curses…”

Markiona seemed almost as surprised as him. “Where did-?”

At that moment, Geralt rose from where he’d been blown back by Markiona and began firing at her with his pistol, now in the LCCB Assistant Manager Identity. “Was worth a shot, but we need to split their attention!” He called in response to Heismay’s failed attack, trying to capture her attention once more.

Struggling between the mass of glass-like matter, Ramattra would curl his hand within his new air prison. A robotic and metallic wince of pain seethed through his vocal circuitry as he twisted his hand out of the orbs’ grasp like a robotic contortionist. Here he was, uselessly trapped in the air and unable to aid his allies. Seeing as there were no other fighters with ranged weapons, Ramattra had little else to offer as he clutched his hand, a stream of nanites form between his fingertips as a translucent purple-ish blue shield rapidly formed for cover. Geralt was free to fire pot shots for a couple uninterrupted.

It was now up to the rest of the Botanical Squad to pull through and get him free so that he may assist them further. “T-That is the best I can do for now human. Keep looking for weakpoints, anything.” The barrier was a magnificent, almost crystal clear material that’s harder than carbon fiber. Whatever this shield was made of, it was made to last, within time constraints.

At that point Ace caught back up, and though he got the gist of Geralt's call out he wasn't entirely sure that there was a they. If the puppet master's construct did have a mind of its own, it did not seem keen on showing it. Regardless, keeping the arche puppet from freely attacking would limit its puppeteer's offensive options. So the Cadet stuck to the initial plan, going for the puppet with another series of slashes coupled with the flat of his shield striking enamel to wear it down.

Gritting her teeth, Markiona commanded her arche puppet to begin a strafing run, her strings flashing red. Then she thrust her palms out to conjure first one orb, then another. Heismay nimbly dodged the one shot his way like a giant cue ball, then darted forward, trusting Geralt to do the same. He briefly became his Archetype in order to let rip a Dark Sword with the Thief’s greater range, but the next moment one of the orbs slammed into him from behind on its way back to Markiona. “Uhhff!” It rolled right over his small body and left him face-down on the ground.

As Heismay charged in, Geralt walked forward much more slowly and deliberately, firing a round from his pistol roughly in time with each step, each shot helping to build up Tremor on Markiona.

Just then there came a thunderclap of a shot from the entrance of the greenhouse, followed by a metal slug crackling with fire and lighting lancing across the room towards Markiona’s center of mass. The source of this shot was Edward, who rather than run into the fray, had taken advantage of his late arrival to crouch down in the shadow of the entryway, line up his shot, and execute a sneak attack using his Smiting Bishop rifle.

“Agh!” Markiona gasped, doubling over with one hand clamped against her seared solar plexus. At that point the augments in her left arm overloaded, sparks flying as her hand spasmed uncontrollably. That seemed to disrupt her puppet strings, for her attendant slowed to a stop in the midst of its strafing run and idled for a moment, about a foot off the ground.

Edward’s cheap shop wasn’t the only surprise in store for Markiona, though. A moment after she bent over, a purple arcane ray slammed into her forehead. Though it didn’t penetrate, its force snapped her backward with enough force to backflip her onto her belly. After warping to Ace’s position, Sandalphon had taken a similar tact to the strategist and lined up a perfect shot with her hexagun. Whatever her snipe lacked in up-front damage, it made up for with the state it left Markiona in, vulnerable, laying in a pool of archfire napalm and within striking distance of both Geralt and Heismay.

To help ensure they had the best opportunity to get their hits in on the puppeteer even if she recovered enough to command her arche puppet, Ace took advantage of said puppet's idle state. Sandalphon's appearance had caused him to startle which cut his reaction time, but he made the best of it and made to return its early favor - striking at one of the doll's elbow joints to disrupt its ability to hold that massive mace.

As Markiona lay on the ground, Geralt transformed back to his natural Identity and raised his sword, slowly chanting an incantation as he began channeling a spell. “Light of the heavens, pierce my foes. Holy Lance!” As he finished the spell, the telltale ring of light appeared around Markiona, six spears of light materializing above her before striking in sequence, ending with a meteoric strike from above.

Though subjected to brutal punishment, Markiona was made of stern stuff. When the light died down she rolled away and onto her feet, scorched and disheveled but alive. Any pretense of being in control of the situation had died, however, and her breathing was labored as she scowled at the newcomers. “Damned ingrates. How many of you are there? So insecure in your strength that you must rely upon numbers?” Gritting her teeth, she turned her strings red and yanked her arche puppet away from Ace, then bade it launch into a sweeping assault of mace strikes toward the group in general, its grip not yet broken. As it attacked she grabbed a device from her belt, which Sandalphon took a shot at and missed by a few inches as Markiona brought it to her mouth. “Idiots! Get in here, now!”

”Well that can’t be good” Edward said to himself as he slid his rifle back into the oversized hip holster, before entering the room at a break neck sprint and going for the downed Ramattra, tapping his chest to summon a friend heart and then tossing it the rest of the distance.

He then used a flap of his wings to halt his run, and then offered the now un-Galeemed Omnic a hand to help him stand ”Welcome out of the light. I think we are about to be in trouble.”

Ramttra fell from the orbs released from Omnic form, giving him a moment to rest its exhaustion on him. As if a rush of color washed over Ramattra’s form, his memories of the Omnic War, his parting from the Monastery, and the formation of Null Sector slowly began coming back to him. There was no time to unpack all of this. Upon absorbing the Friend Heart, the Omnic felt revitalized, as if he had a fresh start, both physically and mentally. Hopefully that mental fortitude carried Ramattra through the reality of The World of Light. Another conversation for later. Two seconds and already there was more trouble… “Thank you… for that.” He bowed to his saviors.

On the other side of the field Ace stuck to his target, evading its weapon as it struck out against any Seeker in its range. What he couldn't dodge he blocked, retaliating with a sword dance to chip away at its skeleton or a hard strike with his shield. One particularly heavy swipe of the puppet's mace against his shield sent Ace tumbling backward, though he let his heels come up over his head in order to quickly get his feet back under him and stand again.

With a groan, Heismay picked himself up just in time to avoid the arche puppet’s onslaught. He leaped up and out of the way, flapping his wings once for an extra boost. When he landed, he clutched his shoulder with a grimace. “That sphere hurt more than it had any right to.”

At that, Sandalphon moved toward him. Rather than continue to take shots at Markiona or her puppet, she prioritized the use of Angelic Praise in order to heal Heismay and top everyone else up. “Will that suffice?”

The eugief flexed his wing, then gave a roguish smile as he hefted his sword. “More than enough.”

As the Arche Puppet attacked the group, Geralt moved to meet it head-on, deflecting and parrying mace blows with the flat of his steel sword. He ducked below a horizontal swipe, rising and stepping forward past its guard with a slash, spinning and cutting into its back before launching a destabilizing blast of energy from Aard. Evolving facts made this battle an annoyance from a tactical perspective, but he’d dealt with plenty of bothersome fights before.

The puppet’s strings turned red as Markiona pulled it away, now showing clear signs of damage. Its master conjured an orb that she hurled toward Heismay, Sandalphon, and Geralt in a zig-zag pattern. Heismay leaped over the serpentine attack, then sprinted toward Markiona, only for her to grapple away toward her puppet on blue strings. He followed after her, relentless, and transformed in order to launch a Mudo at her a moment after she landed. With a snarl she turned and hurled a huge orb at him that carved a furrow as it plowed through the ground. As fragments of earth and stone brick flew, Heismay leaped over the orb and touched down just in time to see the puppet string right next to him turn red. “Not good enough!” Relying on his keen hearing, he backflipped into the air just in time to avoid a massive mace swipe from the puppet behind him, landed on the puppet, then slashed at its neck and kicked off before it could stomp him into the ground with an axe kick.

After creating another cerulean tile, Sandalphon knelt down and opened fire from a distance. She prioritized the Queen’s Arche Puppet, the easier of the two targets, and with her arcane sharpshooting helped whittle down the machine’s vitality. If anyone took another heavy blow, she would be ready to heal.

At that moment, Markiona’s reinforcements arrived through the front door. They took the form of a fashionable fencer out in front, a slower but much bulkier steroid-pumped boxer, a tall, well-dressed caster, and a shriveled pyro with a burning core where his heart ought to be. All bore the pallid skin and alembic augmentations that marked them as Alchemists like Markiona, and in a loose formation they pushed forward.

Given that they were coming through the door, and thus did not have their backs to the foliage all around the rest of the area, Edward took the opportunity to field test the Odin’s Pinky. With one hand on the grip and another holding the back for support, he briefly charged the magical smg, the front prongs spinning up to a high speed before it unleashed a volley of 18 burning hot rounds in 2 seconds towards the largest of the targets.

Given that it was a field test, his recoil control wasn’t exactly the best, but some of the shots did hit their mark, igniting the muscular man. Unfortunately, a little thing like being on fire didn’t stop him, and he promptly charged towards Edward, though not before the squad’s most distorted of distortees formed a fireball in his hands and tossed it the Dreadnaught's way.

He hurled himself out of the way of the retaliatory firepower, disappearing into and appearing out of a portal, but before he could steady himself, the boxer lunged for him, grappling him. Edward struggled for a moment before being suplexed over the man’s shoulder and slamming bodily into the ground behind him.

Rather than pivot to strike him, the boxer rushed Ramattra, while the pyro closed in to roast the prone Edward with his firebreath. Seeing the larger of the backup crew barreling at Ramattra, he knew this fight was meant for him. “Ah-ha! Taking on somebody your own size? Well.” Between his sentences, he snapped back into Nemesis form before clashing with the boxer. “You have caught my attention!” The two caught each other's attack, a dramatic smack reverberating throughout the garden area as the two consistently traded punches with one another, leaving the responsibility of the melee alchemist to him.

Sandalphon’s position relatively near the entrance, far beyond Markiona’s effective range, primed her both to hear the puppeteer’s reinforcements and to be targeted by them. Trusting Heismay and Geralt to handle themselves against Markiona for now, she pivoted toward the newcomers as the fencer ran her way. She had enough time for but a single hasty shot, so instead she let go of her hexagun with one hand and lobbed a Frost Lock his way. The swordsman nimbly sidestepped, then charged the last few yards with his blade primed for a thrust. Sandalphon fired her weapon downward to vault high into the air, out of her attacker’s reach, then slowed her fall with Heavensent. The fencer waited, staring up at her as she slowly descended. She attempted to shoot down at him, but in this situation, her aim was far from steady, and her shots were woefully inconsistent.

Ramattra, between shared blows with the boxer, saw Sandaphlon’s struggle, and despite his returning memory clouding some of his reaction speed, was able to shove the Alchemist off of him for a moment to throw a hardlight shield for the archangel. The barrier materialized in front of her in a matter of seconds, and was sure to fall just as quickly, even if it was for one well-placed shot/. “That is all I can do to assist you.” The Omnic whispered to himself as the Boxer began thrashing back toward Ramattra.

Between her and Ramattra, a discombobulated Edward reflexively summoned his Reaver striker as he tried to clear his head. The vehicle-sized multi-tendriled warbeast loomed over him defensively, and then promptly started lashing out at the pyro, a barrage of serrated spear tips stabbing into and then eviscerating it.

It promptly exploded, searing the Reaver’s tendrils and Edward’s fingers in sympathy, causing him to drop his magelock pistol he’d been trying to aim at the fencer, leaving him with only one option, which was to expend his featherstaff striker, using her to overheal Sandalphon to buy her a bulwark of vitality against the impending sword strike.

Once she received the boost, the archangel wasted no time. She cancelled Heavensent and dropped, both herself and her hexagun to summon her gunstaff, with which she aimed a plunging strike at the fencer. Not aware of her paltry strength and not able to see her clearly when silhouetted against her halo from below, the fencer decided not to take his chances and hopped backwards. When Sandalphon landed, she used that brief window to make her preparations. The fencer lunged and sank his sword into her torso up to the hilt, aimed just below the ribcage.

The bonus health from Edward not only saved her, but kept her lucid enough that she could clench her teeth and tighten her grasp on the nigh-imperceptible razor wires she’d strung up a split second beforehand. They sheared through flesh and bone alike, slicing the fencer’s sword arm into medallions. As he staggered away from her in stunned silence, Sandalphon pulled the blade out, then cast Angelic Praise to heal both herself and Edward to full. The swordsman, numb from adrenaline, went for the fallen blade, only to freeze solid when the archangels’ Frost Lock struck him. She took aim, revved up her gunstaff, then fired once at his temple before turning away to face the next foe. When the alchemist unfroze, the Dissociation exploded his head, and his ashes hit the floor just after.

Ramattra in the meantime was able to keep his own against the brawler-type alchemist while the rest of his group duked it out with whoever was their responsibility, but the longer Ram stayed in his Omnic form, the longer he could feel his circuitry getting exhausted, he had to finish this foe off soon, or he would suffer the consequences. In a quick spark of thought, Ramattra would phase himself quickly out of Nemesis form, preparing a ball of vortex in his off hand as he threw it directly underneath both of their feet, the swarm of nanites restricting the boxer’s movement, but allowing the omnic to move freely.

Out of nemesis form, Ramattra would step out of range of the boxer's kicks and punches, delivering a swift blow to his jaw with his staff as he parted the vortex. At this point, it was just a matter of whittling down the last of his remaining strength, a bright purple beam of nanites impacting the fighter like a million tiny bullets. From their sparring to now being trapped and taking direct fire, the alchemist would falter, the last of his strength devoured by nanites eating away at him.

The last alchemist halted his electrical bombardment of the Reaver in shock in response to this explosive end, which was a mistake, as it gave Edward time to stop convulsing from the sympathy damage to grab his fallen magelock pistol (his fingers having been restored by Sandalphon). Still sprawled on the floor, he used it to support his aim, and promptly nailed the foe in the ankle, causing him to stumble and fall as the slug vaporised flesh and shattered bone. He caught himself with his staff, but it would take him time to resolve how to still use it as a weapon. Time he did not have, as the recovered Sandalphon peppered him with quick shots from her hexagun, not bothering with precision. The third shot polymorphed the alchemist into a chicken, and that was that.

Re-applying Quen, Geralt kept his focus on Markiona, evading mace blows from her Arche Puppet as best he could to keep the pressure on the self-styled Puppeteer of Death. With Heismay helping keep her attention split, Geralt found a primer opportunity to cut in, stepping around and cutting over the diminutive Eugief, forcing Markiona to deal with blows coming both low and high at the same time. Heismay’s stature made fighting in tandem remarkably possible, at least compared to other fighters. The risk of their weapons clashing was minimized by the fact that one was at least a solid two feet higher than the other at all times. As their slashes struck, Geralt backstepped, raised his pre-loaded hand crossbow, and fired a bolt at Markiona to add insult to injury.

The bolt lodged just above her collarbone, eliciting a cry of pain. Markiona was a remarkably tough woman, but even her alchemical vitality had its limits. “Enough!” She flipped backward, using her puppet as leverage, then clenched her fist. Her puppet strings turned orange, crackling with energy, and when she cracked them like a lash the Queen’s Arche Puppet whipped around with impossible speed and crashed down between the Seekers like a meteor. After narrowly avoiding the swan dive, Heismay did not expect it to stretch its limbs and vent its heat in a withering plasma burst that knocked both him and Geralt away, burned and shocked just as Markiona had been earlier. When the alchemist pulled the puppet back for another go, Heismay forced his battered body to move, first in a dodge and then in a sprint away from the follow-up. “Scatter!” Finally, Markiona whirled the strings around in an impressive spin and brought the puppet down for one final meteoric blast, this one aimed at the slower Geralt alone.

Slower to rise, Geralt did not have time to dodge the incoming attack from the puppet. Instead, he held his ground, drew the Sign of Quen in the air before him once more, and focused, pouring as much stamina into the Sign as he dared, a bubble of energy surrounding him as the blow struck, shattering the barrier and forcing him to take a pained step back, but leaving him standing, and just a little pissed off. His breaths were coming in quick and heavy, the Witcher having exhausted himself to prevent being flattened, but he was in more than good enough shape to fight through the temporary exhaustion, launching himself forward to carve away at the Arche Puppet.

He landed two solid blows before the strings turned red and the puppet launched into action. It executed a spinning crescent kick, then took off, boosting straight up. The strings then went blue as Markiona swung forward as if on a rope swing, seated on a single large orb that bore down on Geralt like a wrecking ball. Caught in a moment of rare indecision, the Witcher took a heavy blow to his left shoulder, arm, and hip as he tried to pivot out of the way. At the same time, Heismay ran back toward the action, a moment away from being able to help.

Now able to assist the rest of his team, Ramattra returned to the fray from a tactical distance. A sharp beam of purple would stream towards Markiona in an attempt to deal some chip damage as she completed her swing. Anticipating an attack at any moment, Ramattra moved around erratically as he closed the distance between the defeated boxer and the rest of the group. Another shield was quickly plopped down in front of him as he rushed next to Geralt, now transformed again. “I’m going to try and help you human, but you would be wise to remember this favor.” Ramattra would use the bulk of his large fists to attempt to move, break, or crack the orb the best he can. Hopefully his strength and carefulness to remove Geralt would prove effective.

Markiona’s strings turned red as her puppet descended from above with a massive mace smash in the middle of both Geralt and Ramattra, completely bypassing the shield. She issued the command for it to continue the assault with a couple of kicks before the strings went blue again and the puppeteer herself took action. She seized the heavy orb she’d planted from afar and dragged it toward the two to try and bowl them over. In the chaos, however, she’d lost track of Heismay, and when her focus on the orb left the Queen’s Arche Puppet a sitting duck, the hermit took full advantage. “Take this!” He leaped forward to plunge his longsaber into the string interface at the base of the puppet’s neck, then, as he flipped off, transformed and used Plunder Life to steal some of the puppet’s health for himself.

Thanks mostly to Ace and Geralt’s efforts, that skill turned out to be the final straw. The puppet fell to its knees, deactivated. Markiona swore and adjusted her command gauntlet, turning the blue strings green as the puppet entered repair mode, its vitality quickly restoring. For the moment, though, the alchemist stood alone.

With only one foe left to face, the Seekers surely could taste the winds of victory in the near distance, and with Geralt now being freed, Ramattra’s priority shifted to Markiona, who surely would anticipate another Vortex. With six fighters now turning their attention, Ramattra looked to Heismay, who had a specific size advantage… “You!” Ramattra pointed at the Eugief with his large, bulky finger. “If I… Throw you up there.” He realized how awkward it was to ask this. “Can you strike her?”

This undignified idea didn’t appeal to Heismay, but if his new acquaintance had a good idea, he couldn’t afford to be choosy. He gave a quick, sharp nod. “Yes.”

While Markiona paused to repair her puppet, Geralt took the same opportunity, backing off to cast a First Aid on himself. As good as Sandalphon's healing could be, he wasn't taking any chances right now after the beating he'd just taken.

With Heismay’s permission, and the end of their battle closing in, Ramattra would offer his arm for the rogue to scramble onto his shoulder. “We’ll need to find an opening. Hopefully one of our friends here can provide us one.” Without yet another good distraction to keep Markiona’s eyes off Ramattra and Heismay, their plan was temporarily stalled. It had to be something big so that the Eugief could get in and deliver a final push.

Sandalphon heard him loud and clear. “Understood. Initiating distraction.” After stowing her rifle, she raised her hands and grasped her three-ringed halo, taking its luminous glow into herself. Her body disappeared in a burst of radiant light, and when the miniature solar flare died down, the woman had been replaced by a towering sixteen-foot archangel with marble scales, golden wings of light, and a reptilian tail. The majestic being cast her arms wide to manifest a half-dozen ice-blue screens that she then hurled at Markiona, pounding her like giant stamps. It took only a couple seconds for one of them to freeze her, at which point Sandalphon gathered her power. Orbs of holy water arose amidst rippling magic, then launched forward as spears to rain down on Markiona’s position.

Once the lightshow began, Heismay mostly just watched, stunned. “One hell of a distraction,” he murmured. Was a blow from his sword even necessary at this point?

As Sandalphon's barrage of attacks pummeled Markiona, Geralt moved in, refusing to let himself underestimate the alchemist and risk the fight running even further. With his sword still blazing from Edward's enchantment, the Witcher struck her frozen form, cutting across her body several times before performing a flourishing pirouette that culminated in a vicious stab directly into her torso, before he wrenched his blade free and hopped back, one hand ready to cast a Sign should she emerge from the freeze intact.

Ice and first burst from Markiona as she thawed, hammered by Dissociation that threatened to rupture her from within. With a hollow death rattle she fell to one knee as her alchemical gauntlet sparked and smoked, her mystical strings fading away. Behind Geralt, the puppet deactivated for the final time, its metal body crashing to the ground with limbs splayed at odd angles. For the briefest moment, however, the puppeteer clung to life.

“Well, I suppose all that’s left is to finish the job.” Ramattra looked to Heismay and Geralt. It was a good spur of thought, but they had more firepower than Ramattra anticipated. “We still need to deal with her.” He couldn’t risk there being more reinforcements, her puppet being resurrected, or her being healed to fight again. Everyone here was already so exhausted. While the rest of the group managed Markiona, Ramattra would scout the rest of the botanical area for a couple minutes, making sure stragglers were dealt with.

A final blast of telekinetic energy from Aard heralded Markiona's end, her lifeless body dissolving into ash before she even hit the ground, propelled backwards by Geralt's sign. The Witcher took a deep breath, then another, before allowing himself to fall to his knees, utterly spent as he closed his eyes to focus on his breathing. “Just…a minute.” He panted, to reassure the others that he hadn't gone and died on them just yet.

”I’m sure we can give you that, but if you can make it back to the stage coach, the stew looks like it's ready for pouring" a still shock scorched Edward said as he approached the group, having stayed out of the way of the far more devastating fighters waiting for a shot that had not been needed to be fired. Sandalphon floated over as well, reverting from the draconic Heavenly Wings to her usual form without batting her eye. Dutifully she prepared a cast of Heavenly Praise to heal the bulk of the Seekers’ wounds.

”And you’ll have questions that need answering, I imagine," Edward then also called over to Ramattra, implicitly inviting the Omnic as he returned from his quick round of the garden, to come join them for that meal, even if it was the curiosity of the machine that would be sated rather than any biological function from eating.

Heismay nodded. “No doubt.” He collected the spirit of Markiona, then glanced warily at the lifeless puppet nearby. “Let’s be off then. Some nice, warm stew will do these old bones good.”

Ramattra sighed with a metallic whir. In all honesty, while the state of the World was now unknown to Ramattra. Where was he? But more important to him; what of Null Sector? His hatred for humans probably does not hold the same weight as it does from his original world. He had a lot of thinking to do… as he looked down at his monk robe, he realized how bad the brainwashing really was. He would gently remove the garbs, folding them over his arm to reveal a sleek frame of black, silver, and purple. “Yes well… I suppose there are some proper introductions in order once we get to the coach.” Is that why he wanted to get to the Monastery? Was his mind reverted back to being a monk so that he wouldn’t start another evil robot uprising?… he had a lot of thinking to do.

While she’d already proved that she could scale the walls separating one of Esaka’s tiers from another today, Nadia wasn’t in any hurry to repeat her feat three times over, especially after that tiresome slugfest with Asher. Finding and taking three sets of lifts would eat up extra time, but the catgirl wasn’t in any hurry either. Between now and the tournament’s official start tomorrow, she had nothing but time to kill, and if she planned to spend the night in a comfy hotel bed instead of reliving her childhood memories as an alley cat in the streets, she’d need more zenny than she could make by hustling low-tier locals. It was about time the cat burglar reached into the same bag of tricks that served her so well in the Nyakuza Metro, and like any art, hers couldn’t be rushed.

Nadia leaned on the railing of the elevator as it lifted her from the Low Tier to the Pools, feeling the wind in her hair as she watched the slums recede beneath her and the idyllic farmland beyond the tiered city’s walls stretch out into the distance. Even though she’d only been in Esaka a short while, she already loved the atmosphere here. It was by no means perfect, with plenty of inequality that stemmed from its stark class divides, plus the desensitized, systemic self-destruction caused by the Four Kings’ tournament society, but it still fascinated her. She could see the vision of what a place like this could look like without Galeem, and it excited her. Too bad that this one-of-a-kind culture would vanish along with the rest of the World of Light once the Seekers’ campaign concluded. Nadia sighed and turned her gaze toward the distant, prismatic entity that hovered over Empty Space, an ever-present reminder of this reality’s true nature.

Her mind continued to wander after she walked along the arches of a bridge across the Pools, then up to the Mid Tier. Once she reached the High Tier, however, Nadia forced herself to focus. From here on in, she was no longer a sightseer, but a predator on the hunt for prey.

Even compared to the tier just beneath it, though, this one was a different beast, and a far cry from Nadia’s typical stomping grounds. If the Middle Tier had looked like a small city, the High Tier looked like a metropolis, with wider streets, taller buildings and more space in general. In lieu of bustling marketplaces were well-lit, neatly kept supermarkets, with only the odd hot dog stand on the street. People didn’t collect into crowds much of anywhere, so pickpocketing would be much more difficult, and every establishment could be counted on to have some sort of security. As she walked around, scoping out the various buildings from a safe distance, Nadia couldn’t help but feel out of her element. No doubt the richest people could be found here, but their money would be safe and sound in vaults, not stashed under their beds. And as audacious as Nadia could be some time, the feral wasn’t about to rob a bank or anything. She would need to be creative and selective, even more so than with the jewelry store in the Metro.

As she wandered she found a few possible places, but thought better of them all, always moving on before anyone started looking at her funny. Some of the folks she passed by on the street looked affluent, but as much as Nadia resented rich people, she remembered that money in Esaka depended on one’s fighting skill, so it was even harder to tell who might be both deserving and worthwhile. Eventually, she approached the base of a tall skyscraper, drawn by some commotion. While this building -apparently the headquarters of some business called G Corp- seemed to have a lot of well-armed soldiers for security, who both stood guard in front and patrolled walkways higher up, most of their attention seemed to be on some sort of standoff near the entrance. There, a handful of soldiers headed by a brawny robot with a mohawk and a red-suited brute stood opposite a squad of troopers in black armor with an armored bear. Some of the rival units’ elites had been squaring off, but with all the raised voices around Nadia couldn’t figure out who won or what was going to happen next. She also noticed a muscular gentleman with a black stovepipe hat who seemed to be arguing that he should be president of G Corp since he was already a president and his name was G, but nobody paid him any attention.

More importantly, the feud gave Nadia an opportunity to sneak into G Corp itself. She left the squabble behind and walked alongside the structure toward the edge of the tier, as the skyscraper happened to be perched upon the precipice. There would be plenty of security around the front of the building, but what about the back? It didn’t make sense to station guards back there, and even if they did, surely they would’ve been reassigned to the commotion out front by now. When she reached the perimeter railing, she casually leaned on it and looked up at the G Corp HQ. It offered only sheer surfaces and arrayed glass windows, with no windowsills and few obvious handholds. If she broke through the window, it could trigger an alarm and all kinds of unwanted attention. Nadia chilled there for a few minutes as she thought about her options before a bright idea finally materialized.

She summoned her Harbor Water Demon striker, then called upon one of the huge abyssal’s least-used abilities. At her command, the striker deployed three spherical CAT fighters, then disappeared. As the fighters flew upward, Nadia jumped up to grab one in each hand. 2,700 Pounds of Justice was working against her here, but with the help of the third fighter to lift her up from below she could ascend. In that manner the catgirl slowly gained altitude, bound for the skyscraper’s roof.

It took a good while, but eventually Nadia reached her destination, undetected by G Corp security. Rather than the roof, she made for a helipad balcony, where a black helicopter was undergoing maintenance. Once she jumped down, Nadia noticed that the mechanics had left the door open while working. Laughing to herself at her good luck, she easily slipped into the building.

She found herself in a dark, lavish office, full of expensive furniture and artworks. Judging by the huge portrait behind the desk, it seemed to belong to an almost comically evil-looking man, with swept-back black hair, a single red eye, and a purple alligator-skin trench coat. “Wow, that guy looks evil-lainous,” she muttered. Keeping a low profile, Nadia began to look around. Some of the furniture here ought to fetch a good price, but it would be tricky to abscond with pretty much anything. Maybe that millionaire had some ‘pocket change’ lying around, or better yet, a hidden vault.

After a couple minutes, the engineers finished with the helicopter and packed up their gear to head through the office. Nadia quickly ducked behind the desk and hid underneath it to wait. While under there, she happened to see a button next to the chair, which prompted her to wiggle her eyebrows nefariously. “Ooh~” Once she couldn’t hear the mechanics anymore, she stood up and gave that button a press.

Nadia heard a creak behind her. She turned as the huge portrait -and the wall behind it- split apart, revealing a secret passage. A crack of golden light shone upon her face, slowly widening as the feral’s eyes sparkled. When she realized what she was looking at, a breathless gasp of laughter escaped her. “Oh. My. God…”

---

The longer Band spent in the Middle Tier, the more bemused he became about the mindset of the average Esaka citizen. Wherever he went he found plenty of people willing to chat, but the fighters and the yokai alike all seemed fundamentally incurious. They could explain to him the minutia of a technique’s block advantage, breaking each movement down into sixtieths of a second, and they could recite various fighters’ catalogues of special moves by heart, but they couldn’t see the bigger picture. Nobody questioned the tournaments or the society centered around them, nor its stratified structure, and while the Four Kings maintained a bad reputation among the populace, nobody seemed to question their authority or entertain the idea of overthrowing them. There were no whispers about conspiracies that an intrepid investigator could trace down and solve. As long as they were entertained, and found some way to get by, the people were content. Or at least complacent.

It disturbed Band, in part because he knew that he couldn’t blame this state of affairs on Galeem completely. Back in New Meridian, things had been pretty bad for the everyday low-to-middle-class citizen, and things never seemed to change or get better. Folks indulged themselves with fantasies of upending the system, but the powers that be were impenetrable for the average civilian. If someone actually managed to get ahead, they’d only become more invested in keeping things the way they were to preserve whatever they’d managed to achieve. In a situation like that, it was no wonder that people became addicted to distractions. Bread and circuses, Ben, he thought. Bread and circuses.

If nothing else, the detective managed to turn up important details about one subject: the Four Kings. While they seldom appeared to the public, and tournament winners rarely bothered to actually challenge them after the grand finals, they captivated the public and were subject to a great deal of scrutiny. Over the course of several conversations, Big Band pieces together a relatively complete picture of their capabilities.

M. Bison was the archetypal tyrant, a ruthless and forceful maniac who wielded an energy called Psycho Power in battle, allegedly borne from the fear, anger, and hatred of others. In the arena, he oppressed his opponents with a forward-moving onslaught of beefy slugs, slides, and scissor kicks, never giving them room to breathe. If he were allowed to plant a Psycho Mine, his challenger would be even more stuck, forced to deal with Bison’s assault while a timer ticked down to an automatic explosion. Even if someone managed to push him back, his famous Psycho Crusher would bring him right back in, breezing straight through projectiles if he chose to enhance it. His lack of ranged attacks and reversals were weaknesses that few foes could exploit.

Shao Khan, host of the Mortal Kombat tournament, was best known for his bloodthirstiness. He didn’t fight just to win, but to maim and torment his foes, crushing bones with his trademark hammer or piercing organs with a spear. Evidently he could summon new weapons on the fly if he lost or hurled old ones, and according to one tremulous gossiper he could somehow prevent foes from blocking. Naturally, his raw strength was unmatched among the Four Kings as well. In his tournament, he decreed that all contenders eliminated in the Losers’ Bracket be put to death. The messier, the better. While Mortal Kombat garnered the fewest participants among the four tournaments, it had some of the most crazed fans, and for some reason or another, made the most money week after week after week.

The man who ran the King of Iron Fist struck Band as the most interesting of the four. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to be just a tough old man, without any overt supernatural abilities–unless one counted his unmistakable haircut as supernatural. Nevertheless, Heihachi Mishima was widely respected and feared as a true martial arts master, with a colorful history. Rumor had it that he’d fathered upwards of twenty illegitimate children, survived the explosions of several kamikaze robots point-blank, and even come back from falling into a volcano unconscious. People also whispered that he’d once done the same to his own child, and even killed his wife. His famous techniques included Stonehead, the Hellsweep, Heaven’s Wrath, and the Electric Wind God Fist.

Rugal Bernstein held the honor of being the least fought among the Four Kings, with a penchant for arrogant cruelty, absurd strength, and turned conquered challengers into trophies by encasing their live bodies in metal. Everything Band heard about him made his skin crawl, which considering all that Band had seen and heard during his years in the NMPD and Anti-Skullgirl Labs, was no easy feat. His fighting style was an unpredictable mash of the notorious moves stolen from other fighters, supplemented by nasty-sounding techniques like Genocide Cutter and Dark Barrier. Supposedly, he also owned an entire zoo’s worth of black panthers that he sometimes brought onto the battlefield as assists. His only weakness seemed to be that he fought as a team of one, but given everything else Band learned about him, it sounded like he’d be plenty bad enough on his own.

After learning all this from various sources, Band decided to take a break. The longer he went, the more elusive juicy details got, and with all of the other ambient information about Esaka to absorb his brain was fried. Band retired to a picturesque park amidst a few of the Middle Tier’s buildings, where he sat on the sturdiest bench he could find to relax, close his eyes, and listen to the wind though the leaves. Though Esaka had very few children or families, there were still a handful of people here, quietly seeking peace from the city’s hustle and bustle here. Birds sang, flowers bloomed, and occasionally a dog or two ran across the grass.

Though it was nice to be somewhere quiet, it wasn’t too long before Band got the urge to fill the silence. After thinking for a minute, he set his hat down by his feet, then deployed his saxophone and began to play. He started off with some warm-ups, none too loud, then kicked off some low-key, jazzy ambiance. His goal wasn’t to make a scene, just to paint a pleasant picture with his cheerfully arrhythmic notes. For much of it he kept his eyes closed, not even minding who came and went whilst listening to his music. At one point, though, he opened his eyes after a long stretch of music to find a young lady standing right in front of him. She looked like a Japanese high-schooler, with long, ash-brown ringlets, a sky-blue dress, and vivid red shoes.

“Excuse me, mister,” she addressed him in a small, calm voice. She was holding a violin, as well as a bow. “If it’s not any trouble, may I play alongside you?”

Big Band nodded. “Of course.”

He scooted over, and the young lady sat down beside him. The duo began to play, tentatively taking turns at first as they got a feel for one another. After a bit of practice, however, the musicians could really get going. Rather than anything loud, exciting, or upbeat, they continued to play in a more restrained, wistful and longing manner, the solemn and haunting violin strings complimenting Band’s saxophone blues. Though they lacked lyrics, or the musical depth of a full band, the two strangers found themselves able to make something beautiful together. They lost themselves in the music, and time flew by.

Band did not bother keeping time during his reverie, but by the time he finally put his saxophone away, the sky had grown dark, and not just because the afternoon was coming to an end. Rainclouds hung overhead, and purple lightning flashed to the east. At some point the girl had slipped away, taking none of the money that appreciative passers-by had left in Band’s hat. When he stooped to pick it up, he was surprised and heartwarmed to see a decent chunk of change in there, probably enough to last him a day or two. He stared off into the distance as thunder rumbled, silently grateful for the company of the young violinist. Then, as raindrops began to fall, the detective got to his feet and moved on.



With Markiona taken care of, the members of Sandalphon’s strike team quickly retraced their steps through the Botanical Garden and back to the stagecoach, where they rendezvoused with the rest of White Team. A quick meeting with those who’d been elsewhere allowed her to check a number of boxes off her mental checklist.

For one, Mokou had managed to complete her mission and reunite the three Lost Vikings, all safe and sound thanks to her diligent efforts. Overjoyed to be back together and none the worse for wear, against all odds, the three offered her rare artifacts as recompense. Even if it would take one more Piece of Heart to complete a new heart container and boost Mokou’s maximum health, it was a thoughtful gesture. Based on the phoenix girl’s combat prowess and self-revival abilities, though, Sandalphon had something more important to offer her. “If you have no particular destination in mind, you’re welcome to continue traveling alongside us,” the archangel told her. “We have a long journey ahead, of which this zoo was just the first step. The road ahead will be inundated with danger, but it will afford you ample riches, entertainment, and chances to do good deeds.” If she agreed, one more reward would be hers eventually: freedom from Galeem’s bondage. Everyone deserved to be free, but in Sandalphon’s eyes, Mokou’s performance and attitude had fast-tracked her liberation, if she saw fit to accept it.

Thanks to the clue hidden in the cryptic vessel, Sectonia had indeed discovered a hidden letter in the mouth of the taxidermied Rex the Crocodile, that being the suspicions of the taxidermist about the true nature of Colonel Little’s murder. “Thank you, Sectonia.” Together with the other snippets of information she’d learned so far, Sandalphon could begin to assemble the story in her mind. At some point after Little founded Krat Zoo, a clandestine group known as the Alchemists -possibly headed by Markiona- had approached him in order to obtain the zoo and its inhabitants for their own purposes. Little had opposed them, but perhaps due to financial trouble, he’d lost ground bit by bit, until the alchemists decided to dispose of him and frame his faithful companion, Rex the Crocodile, as the killer. Finally, Rex himself was slain and turned into a display in his owner’s beloved Hall of Adventure. It was a morbid tale, but even if it didn’t mean anything, Sandalphon was glad to bring the truth to light, and clear the poor reptile’s name at last.

When Ganondorf and Roxas returned, the strange duo came bearing seeds and vegetubes. “You obtained mistletoe? That is excellent news. Considering that they are only seeds, it seems prudent to install the vegetubes on the stagecoach itself, both to grow the mistletoe and obtain a sustainable food supply. There should be adequate space toward the front.” The vegetubes probably needed power, but maybe Edward could make something work with those mana fuel cells of his.

With Markiona and her alchemists gone, the carcasses cleared out, the seeds acquired, the Lost Vikings found, everyone in one piece, and a promising new recruit, the Seekers had not only made it through Krat Zoo but also achieved more than she could have predicted or hoped for. That included all the information from Markiona’s study, but out of everything she’d learned, Sandalphon saw fit to share just one pertinent detail with the others as they gathered inside the stagecoach for stew. “By the way, you all need not concern yourselves with infection from those carcasses. I discovered conclusive evidence that the animals only mutated in that manner from a combination of subjection to the Petrification Disease and the Alchemists’ ‘elixir’. There is no airborne, bloodborne, or other pathogen in play.”

Heismay swallowed his mouthful of stew, then let out a big sigh of relief. “That’s very good to hear.”

After a moment Sandalphon continued. “I would like to make two requests, though. First, may I have all the ergo crystals you all collected? And second, if possible I would like to claim Markiona’s spirit? I believe she possesses skills that would be of particular use to me.”

“You'll hear no objections from me,” Heismay consented, placing the spirit he’d collected onto the bench where she could take it, or others could argue over it.

Once everyone was ready, the burliest Seekers could push open Krat Zoo’s back door. The Reindrix, revitalized by their rest and the tasty, puffy kernels of the popcorn plants, set off vigorously down the Midnight Walk marked by burnt matchsticks and into a snowy wasteland beneath the dark and cloudy sky.





For a good ways, the terrain seemed to be mostly flat, expansive snowfields, interspersed by large, rocky outscrops. Small pine forests could be found here and there, but for the most part this leg of the journey was wide open. With the snow about two feet deep everywhere but the Midnight Walk, the stagecoach could speed along straightaways, its occupants much more secure than in the Reaver Woods thanks to the open sightlines. Nevertheless, there was plenty to be found off the beaten path. This area seemed to be rich in surface coal deposits, just sitting out in the open for anyone to mine, and there were an unusual number of geothermal vents as well.

At one point, the Midnight Walk led the stagecoach through a valley. Perched atop the bluffs on either side were strange flying machines that resembled locomotive gyrocopters, one painted green and the other red. Through reconnaissance, whether via Edward’s drones or just by going over to see for themselves, the Seekers would find not only burly henchmen busily mining coal or building defenses, but a variety of bizarre and, frankly, impossible creatures. On the right side, where a brunette in a teal shirt seemed to be in charge, there were a variety of predominantly terrestrial mismatched monsters, while on the left the freaky forces of the big bald boss were more suited for aquatic warfare. If anyone kept an eye on them for a minute or two, it would be hard to miss additional units getting spit out of enigmatic spawners that seemed to manifest them from nothing but coal and electricity.

As the stagecoach continued on, they happened to pass by a spot on the right where a gray wolf had just been tranquilized by a dashing huntsman who was in the process of extracting a small DNA sample to take back to base. Heismay, riding atop the stagecoach as usual, couldn’t help but be curious about the two factions’ standoff all the weird critters involved therein. If someone else elected to split off from the stagecoach to investigate, he’d go along with them.

With Sandalphon’s voice interrupting her rest, Mokou simply opened one eye, not seeming annoyed in the slightest as she listened to their offer. It didn’t even take long for Mokou to decide on it, giving a small shrug and nod of her head, “Sure. I don’t much care for riches, but I don’t have much else I’m handling. In fact I was simply going to pick a direction and walk once this was done, so I suppose it would be more entertaining to go with you all for now” she says, before pushing herself off the bench once more to prepare to move out. Casual as she was, it was clear that she intended to follow her word and stick with this group… For now, at least.

Eventually, the group had begun to move on, leaving the zoo behind them and advancing to their true destination. Mokou herself took more of a spectator role to the procession, observing the group and what they were doing rather than interfering… Yet eventually, she stood up, making her way to Sandalphon, hands in her pockets as they always appeared to be, “So, suppose introductions are in order. Name's Fujiwara no Mokou, but I mostly go by Mokou. Simpler that way. Figured now would be the best time to actually ask where you’re headed: I’m tagging along either way, but a heads up would be nice.”

When Mokou approached, Sandalphon looked up from the papers she’d been reading, then carefully tucked them into a briefcase that she pushed beneath the bench at her feet. “Certainly. My name is Sandalphon.” She raised one hand and with a flick of her wrist summoned a light screen oriented toward her visitor. In quick succession it displayed images of White Team’s other members, all from Sandalphon’s perspective since they were snippets of her memory. “If you have not already made their acquaintance, these are Blazermate, Geralt, the Ace Cadet, Sectonia, Roxas, Ganondorf, Edward, and Ramattra.” She then displayed an image of a colossal crag beneath a motionless, stony sphere. “Our current destination is Moon Mountain, which you may have seen on the northern horizon, and to get there we are following the Midnight Walk.”

The archangel briefly paused as she considered exactly how much about her mission to share. “In order to safeguard this world’s inhabitants, we are hunting an extremely dangerous man known as Baldur. Although his whereabouts are unknown, we have reason to believe that he will seek out anyone who might be able to pose him a worthy challenge. Additionally, we have reason to believe that Moon Mountain is somehow linked to the long night and falling temperatures that the Highlands are experiencing.” Her unblinking gaze rested on Mokou as she paused to see if everything made sense to Mokou, and give her a chance to ask any questions she might have.

Mokou simply tilts her head to the side, closing her eyes as she gives a small nod and a few ‘hmm’ sounds, “I’ve certainly seen it, the Moon Mountain that is. You think that this Baldur fellow of yours is around the mountain? Or just investigating one problem at a time?” she states, red eyes opening and looking back at the angel, “And what makes this Baldur dangerous, if I may ask? Fighting everyone is a problem I see constantly, but when you have an entire group hunting you down, I expect there’s something that puts you above the rest.”

“He is, for all intents and purposes, immortal,” Sandalphon answered truthfully. “He abuses that fact to run roughshod over the commonfolk. However, he is also an important cog in the machine of Moebius, a despotic faction that controls much of this world from the shadows, whose members treat ordinary people like livestock and orchestrate wars merely for entertainment. Once Baldur is eliminated, we will be that much closer to toppling Moebius.” As far as she knew, Moebius wasn’t among the subjects that Galeem’s influence suppressed, in part because they didn’t exist prior to the World of Light itself. Perhaps hearing of their evildoing would light a fire in Mokou’s heart.

Sure enough, the existence of Moebius seemed to catch Mokou’s attention… But not nearly as much as Baldur did, “A fellow immortal huh? Good thing you came across me then. If I can’t talk any sense into them, then I can just bash it into their skull” she says before sighing, body instinctively slouching even more than it was already, “I was the same way for a while, just picking fights for the chance of entertainment. But after a few years that sort of thing lost its luster” as Mokou explains, her mind wanders to her own rival and, for a moment, she ponders if they would be a part of this ‘Moebius’. But the thought is quickly discarded: As annoying as Kaguya was, and how often they liked to pull people’s strings for their own entertainment, she was far from tyrannical. Just overtly carefree.

Without any further probing, Mokou freely admitted just what Sandalphon had been suspecting, which would be a perfect segue into the next topic she wanted to discuss. “So, you are immortal as well? During the encounter with that albino alligator I did observe you demonstrate what I hypothesized to be resurrective immortality. If you do not mind sharing, I would be curious about the ins and outs of this ability, as well as its source. Is this ability inherent to you, or did you obtain it somehow?”

“... Guess I can explain that, just be prepared to be disappointed: I don’t sugarcoat this” Mokou says as she rolls her shoulder, preparing herself for the explanation she was about to lay out, “To put it simply: I stole my immortality. An annoying hag named Kaguya made a thing called the ‘Hourai Elixir’, and after it caused her nothing but troubles, she eventually had it sent out to be destroyed. I took it while it was in transit and drank it, which resulted with my body and soul being imbued with ‘Eternity’. And to elaborate, you only needed three sips of the elixir to become ‘immortal’, I did far more than that” she explained, pausing for a moment to let the ramifications sink in for Sandalphon before continuing,

“As a result, I am completely unchanging. I don’t age, I don’t become ill, I don’t even need to eat or drink, really. Anything that affects me will eventually be reverted, doesn’t matter if it affects my body or my soul. Spent a few hundred years trying to find a way to reverse it, but it’s a bit hard to undo Eternity. And if you’re wondering how you can get your own: Nip that desire in the bud. Last I checked, Kaguya had no plans to make any more of them, and the only one with the knowledge to actually make the Elixir is her doctor Eiren.”

“I see…” Sandalphon’s power symbol-shaped pupils became inverted triangles as she listened. “Well, I have no particular attachment to ‘eternity’. If no more Elixir exists, that means Moebius cannot obtain it for themselves.” Her pupils then became question marks. “One more question, if I may. Do you remember how long you’ve been wandering this country, Mokou?”

Mokou tilts her head, tapping her foot a few times as she pondered the question, “I’ve honestly lost track of time even for something like that, so I can’t exactly give you a good estimation. Gave up on it when I got to thirteen-hundred years of age” she states, kicking the floor of the stagecoach idly, “Could’ve been wandering for a few months or a few years and I wouldn’t know the difference.”

But not two hundred plus years, Sandalphon surmised. While she believed Mokou could survive being killed, it would have surprised the archangel if Mokou turned out to be an exception to the World of Light subjects’ obligate ten-year lifespan. Death and erasure were not exactly the same thing, after all. If her hypothesis was correct, the Hourai Elixir would be of no use when it came to her own predicament, even if she could somehow acquire it. Far better that such a dangerous concoction never again see the light of day. “Thank you for humoring me,” she told the phoenix. “Is there anything else I can elucidate for you?”

“Nah, I don’t have any more questions for now. If I come up with anymore, I’ll make sure to run them by you” Mokou responds, turning on her heel in order to walk back to where she had set up her shop (I.E: Where she was resting), giving Sandalphon a casual wave as she left. For the most part, she seemed a little bit more excited, as minimal as it was: The chance to face a fellow immortal wasn’t something she got often, outside her duels with Kaguya.

She’d enjoy the future, that was for sure.