Pit rushed to his assigned stage, not stopping for anything until he'd leapt over the water and landed on the painted wooden platform. Little waves splashed up over the edges, but otherwise the stage proved itself to be sturdy. There were even little boats moored to it that rocked gently with the ripples caused by Pit's arrival.

"I'm here!" he gasped, near breathless. He didn't just seem winded from the run - his hair and feathers were ruffled, his laurel wreath was askew, the clothes he wore were smudged, and there was at least one bruise beginning to bloom on his cheek. It looked like he'd just fought an entirely different match right before getting there... which, unbeknownst to anyone but him, he had.

He had always recovered quickly though, and this time was no exception. He stood up straight, though before he could even think about explaining anything to Ashrah who he'd landed next to he heard his name from the other side of the water's edge. He looked over, a little surprised to see Rika and Bowser Jr. cheering for him. And... Fight of Gods' Zeus too! Support like that was honestly something he hadn't known he'd needed at the moment after what had happened with Juri. Disheveled as he was he beamed at the three of them, waving with one arm before flashing them the sign for victory, his two fingers in the shape of a V.

"You cut it very close," Ashrah said, drawing his attention back to her. Her expression was impassive as she looked down at him, at least until she got a better look at the state he was in. Curiosity flickered in her dark eyes, but she didn't ask.

"Sorry, just had to deal with someone..." he answered anyway, though he didn't actually seem that apologetic. Doing his best to put the encounter with Juri out of his mind for the moment, he sighed before going on. "Please tell me it's not too late to fight still?"

Ashrah shook her head, moving to take her spot nearby but out of the way, and across the wooden platform their opponents watched on. Now that Pit had caught his breath he could actually get a look at them: a man and a monkey. Dweeb, the kameo partner who Pit would have been more surprised to see if he wasn't already acquainted with Diddy and Donkey Kong, leisurely munched a banana as he sat atop one of the small boats tied to the raft's edge. The man, John Smith apparently, took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out on the sole of his boot. The action was a bit redundant since he ended up just tossing the butt into the water anyway. It floated for a few seconds before sinking, joining an unseen host of all kinds of debris at the bottom of the Pools.

Though he was dressed extremely casually in a t-shirt and jeans, John's face was hardened and blank. When he spoke it was with the grizzled tone of an experienced assassin, though like his outfit his words were pretty casual too.

"Can't say I wouldn't have been glad for a quick win by technicality, but you made it in time kid. And we've got..." he paused to pull one of his sleeves up and check his watch. "...twenty-three more seconds left in round one."

"Oh, good!" That was a relief! It would be way too embarrassing to face everyone else after losing because he'd been late no matter the reason, not to mention disappointing his partner. But... twenty seconds left? Had time already started?! "Wait, wh–"

BLAM. Giving his opponent no other heads up than the timer being in play, John whipped out his heavy handgun, aimed, and fired it all in one motion. He'd leveled it at Pit's head, either used to Esaka's quick revitalization especially during sanctioned matches or simply unconcerned with killing what he viewed as a child. Probably both. To his credit Pit's reaction time called his Guardian Orbitars to his defense immediately. They formed a little too late to reflect the bullet, but it was caught in the ethereal body of one of the shields in front of Pit's face and dropped harmlessly to the wooden planks at his feet once it dissipated.

The others ricocheted off of the face of the Orbitar, as John squeezed off a few more rounds. He was on the move, avoiding the return fire but keeping his distance. That would normally suit Pit just fine; bullets were far from fireballs, but it wasn't like he'd never been shot at before. And he could deal with ranged fighters, even preferred it to be honest. However, Ashrah had given him a crash course on all things Kombat - if the timer ran out, the fighter who'd taken the most damage lost the round. Were the mysterious Heavenly Principles going to count the damage he'd taken since he arrived, or since the time officially started? If it was the latter, then he was in trouble. He had to move in and wear his opponent down as fast as possible or go for a quick ring out!

"I guess we're getting right to it!"

He wasn't sure how much time was left when he dropped the shield and zipped forward with a sword in each hand. John however was, and he counted down the seconds while he backed up to the edge of the raft and kept firing. He no more than grazed Pit, if even that, as the angel dodged from side to side and closed the distance. Pit lunged at the man, but John side-stepped him and suddenly he was over open water. Even more embarrassing then being late would be falling in, but thankfully his wings were still in perfect working order (relatively). He beat them and pushed himself up into the air then back to the stage, moving in to attack again as soon as he touched down.

John snapped his fingers and a moment later Dweeb was dropping down with a knife. The monkey had aimed a falling stab at Pit with hopes to push him back towards the stage's edge, but his target back pedaled just enough to pivot around him. Dweeb was gone again the next instant.

So that's how it works, Pit thought, though he didn't think the snapping was really part of it. John had used the interference to put more space between them again, and this time when Pit got up close and lashed out he was sure he had John pinned down - until a swirling, golden wind current swirled around them both, stopping the blade.


Reading the words forming in the air Pit's heart sank a little, even though he thought this might happen. In front of him John held his hands up, a look on his face that seemed to say 'hey, them's the breaks.' He walked around the angel to return to his side of the field, leaving Pit to clench his fists around the hilts of his swords. He inhaled and held his breath for a moment, then slapped his his hands to both of his cheeks to psych himself back up. The motion was a little awkward with his weapons still in his grip, but it served its purpose.

"It was only one round," Ashrah called to him from the sidelines, her unconcerned voice meant as a reassurance. Pit nodded.

"And it's the only one I'm gonna lose from here on out!" he promised.

The start of the next round was imminent, but Pit took the time to look over at his audience again and shout out to them. He definitely didn't want to lose in front of Bowser Jr. of all people. "Don't count that first one! I'm going for real this time!"

”You better! That was such a lame way to lose!” the prince called back, while his sister tilted her head to the side in a moment of contemplation and then nodded in agreement with her brother.

Finally Pit faced his opponent across the wooden stage, his bow held tight in his hand.

Alright Lady Palutena, what've you got for me on this guy?

There's not much, but apparently he'll do anything for money!

Wow, so he's like a really bad guy?

Well when I said anything, I meant anything. He'll walk dogs or babysit too, so I guess the amount of money doesn't really matter...

Oooo...kay... but as a fighter he seems experienced.

Well he's also a professional hitman!

Why didn't you lead with that?!

The golden winds swirled once more, providing the participants some vitality and spelling out the words that would begin the timer and start the next round:


Both fighters reacted instantly. Though John opened much the same way with his gun, Pit's light arrows were faster. They zipped across the arena and struck, individually not very powerful but preventing the hitman from properly firing. He tried ducking, dodging, and sprinting, but when the streaks of blue light could curve to follow him it was hard to escape. Of course Pit didn't intend to play the battle this way forever, just whittling John down. He dashed forward, producing more powerful arrows that could actually force John back whenever he was hit. It was a safe way to approach while pressuring the hitman at the same time, and soon enough John was at the raft's edge and Pit was advancing on him.

John snapped his fingers and Dweeb lobbed something at Pit. The object was small and egg shaped, though when it hit the floor at Pit's feet with a sort of metallic thunk it was quite obvious what it was.

"Hey-!" Pit exclaimed, his eyes widening as he leapt back and away. The explosion that went off the next second left a plume of dark smoke, but somehow the stage had survived. Thankfully Pit had too, one hard beat of his wings dispersing the smoke. Just in time to see John pick up a shoulder mounted rocket launcher that his kameo partner had thrown him. "-is that even legal?!"

"Hasn't gotten us disqualified before," John replied. Ignoring Jr yelling ”Cheeeeaaaaap!” at him, the hitman hefted the weapon and hit a button, firing the explosive ammo.

The rocket sailed past Pit as he threw himself to one side to evade it. He had wanted to get a handle on how his fighting style might be restricted, and he could feel a few changes, but between the items being thrown in, the monkey itself, and the risk of getting thrown off the stage... this was more similar to a Smash match than Pit imagined it would be. And, actually, if he thought about it that way... then didn't that mean he definitely had this in the bag?

John loaded and fired another rocket, though it resulted in another miss. This time Pit charged forward after dipping out of the way, and in preparation for the angel dragging the battle into a melee John dropped the rocket launcher and snapped his fingers, catching a katana that Dweeb tossed him. It was a wonder where exactly the well dressed primate was keeping all of these weapons. Regardless, Pit had a kameo partner too.

"Ashrah!" he called out. The demoness leapt into the fray ahead of Pit, soaring into a twisting, downward strike on John with her kriss. The force sent John to the ground so hard that he bounced up, perfectly timed for Pit to swipe him with one of the bow's blades, then spin and slash outward with both. It was a fast and fierce attack that would be familiar to at least one onlooker, the forward smash powerful enough to launch John right off the end of the stage and into the drink.

Satisfied with that, Pit straightened up out of his fighting stance and grinned lightly. "There we go."


A pair of cheers rang out from the spectators (with Rika’s second ”go Pit!”sounding considerably more genuine than her first one had) along with a short clap and a “Ha ha, now that’s more like it!” from Zeus.

John rubbed at the back of his neck after climbing out of the water, rolling his head and shoulders in preparation for round three. He hadn't exactly been going easy on Pit in the first couple rounds, but he seemed a little more serious now. The kid had decent situational awareness at least as far as avoiding ring outs and earning his own went. In the few seconds they had before having to go at it once more he looked at the angel and said, "I was hoping to catch my first couple targets off guard, but... you a platform fighter too?"

"Uh..." Pit tilted his head and held his hand out flat, twisting it in a so-so motion. "I think I'm kinda more of a rail shooter now?"

John raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't respond. Both of them took their positions once more.


Pit practically exploded out himself from his side of the stage, closing the gap within seconds. Still armed with the katana, John did the first thing that came to mind - he chucked it at the approaching angel. Ah, but Pit had seen this strategy before too. Rather than stop to block or dodge, Pit quick-summoned his Upperdash Arm and plowed right through. The sword bounced off the whirring Arm and into the water while the divine weapon itself slammed John in the mid-section, throwing him directly up into the air. Pit was already pulling back the ethereal bowstring while the bow itself was reappearing, aiming up while charging a flaming arrow that struck true but did not leave John with any kind of burn or pyro status.

The hitman landed on his feet, blocking the quick slashes Pit lunged at him with by crossing his arms in front of him. He dropped into a low stance and kicked his leg out, interrupting the blade combo when Pit chose to jump over the attack. John pulled out his firearm once more, flipping their positions and forcing Pit to block the close quarters shots. They hurt a lot less than he thought they would - that must have been the Heavenly Principles' doing as well, right? He just had to wait for the magazine to run out of ammo and... now!

Pit burst forward while brandishing his blades only to be met with a smirk on John's face and the nozzle of a very different weapon staring him down. Nearby Dweeb hollered what sounded like a laugh as the flamethrower sparked to life. It's plume was wide reaching, scorching Pit even while he retreated. John swept it the side to follow his opponent, at least until Pit leapt away from the arena, hanging in the air away from the flames as long as he could before falling onto one of the boats tied to the platform. It rocked dangerously but he stayed dry. He held his breath for a moment, hoping this didn't count as being out of bounds. Thankfully it didn't, since no sparkly gold wind came to interrupt the match.

John ran forward, flicking the flamethrower on once more, but this time Pit was ready enough that he could send a few light arrows John's way. They twisted through or around the spewing fire and struck the hitman, and when he staggered Pit used that as his opportunity to get back onto the stage proper. He pounced at John with a flying kick, landed in front of him aided by a double downward slash, and ended with a forceful forward cross slash that broke through John's upward guard. He kept up his offense until with one final push he knocked John over the edge once more with a swift kick to his side.


Though things had started off iffy, it hadn't gone too poorly all things considered. Pit sucked in another breath and after banishing his bow he fluffed his wings out and flashed two victory signs this time, one for his cheerleaders and one for Ashrah, who returned his light smile.

"You won't be able to rely on ring outs after the Pools," she advised him.

"I figured, but might as well do it while I can!"

From the water side Jr called out ”Nice one Pit!” while Rika asked more quietly but still audibly ”Oh, so is it over already?”

It was indeed; a best two of three of ninety second rounds would only have lasted five minutes at most including the down time between each round's start, but this match was made considerably shorter due to tardiness and quicker wins. Pit hadn't doubted that he'd be able to handily win the first few rounds (if not the tournament as a whole), but he was still proud of himself. The rematch with Juri had been tougher than this physically and emotionally, serving as far more than just a warm up, and he'd still come out on top here right after the fact. It did mean he was more tired than he normally would have been afterward though.

I think I'm gonna need to refuel... or a quick nap sounds nice, he thought to himself as he and Ashrah went to meet his supporters. He would have stopped to help John out of the water, but the man had extracted himself quickly enough and had his jacket slung over his shoulder as he made sure his pistol was still in good working order.

"Guess there's still a chance to win big in Loser's, huh, Dweeb?" he said to his partner as the monkey walked up next to him, straightening its bow tie. He refilled the gun's magazine and clicked it back into place, not too put out at all about the loss.

So that was the infamous Shao Kahn, eh? As the lifestream vision faded away, and Nadia’s surroundings returned, she worked to burn the warlord’s visage into her memory. At the end of her tournament road stood a musclebound warrior adorned with a horned skull helmet, his reptilian red-orange eyes blazing within that ferocious facemask, the chip on his shoulder so massive that the catgirl could practically see it. At first glance, he didn’t look like much; though impressive, neither his physique nor his stature seemed superhuman. No matter how much bravado she showed to others, though, Nadia knew better than to underestimate him. With how Esaka and especially the Mortal Kombat tournament worked, Shao Kahn could only have gained his position through a deadly combination of sheer strength and inhuman cruelty. It would be days before she even got the chance to challenge him, but it would probably be worth her while to actually study up on him beforehand.

Right now, though, she needed to focus on her first opponent. With how Purge and Ssapo both looked and acted, Nadia struggled to take them seriously. Still, even if this was only the first step in a long race, she’d be in for a bad time if she tripped off the starting line. It was time to show these cyborgs what she and Robo were made of. Showtime.

Nadia turned toward her foes, side-facing, with one hand on her hip and the other extended. Beside her, Robo-fortune rotated her joints, then clenched her fists, sending electric sparks dancing across her chassis. With a flashy grin Nadia sharpened her nails into claws. “Do nyaat take this purr-sonally!”

With a nasty laugh, Purge spun up his rotors, then unleashed streams of flame from the flamethrowers built into their centers. He cast them into the air in a menacing pyrotechnic display, while Ssapo just gnashed his metal teeth. “You won’t be smiling when I’m done with you!” Purge declared.

As both Kameo fighters backed off, the power of the Heavenly Principles welled up through the arena to take the form of glowing golden letters in the air. ROUND ONE: FIGHT!

“Robo, laze ‘em!”

Nadia called out her partner first thing, prompting Robo-fortune to somersault in from the sidelines. At the same time, Purge was already making his first move, using his rotators as propellers to pull him across the stage at high speed. Unfazed, Robo crossed her arms and unleashed a heavy Theonite Beam with a deadpan, “Beeeeam.” Purge’s reckless charge resulted in a face full of pink plasma that buffeted him strong enough to throw him flat on his back. CLANG!

Well before the beam died down as Robo pulled back, Nadia was on her way. She sprinted across the polished stone floor on all fours, quickly closing the distance as Purge scrambled to get to his feet. Once in a crouching position, he put up his metallic dukes, anticipating a low attack. He did not expect the crazed catgirl to run up and overhead right off the cuff. She sprang up and, scarcely having left the ground, immediately thrust out a light kick to dome Purge right in the red symbol on his forehead. “Gotcha!” She bent forward to follow up with a quick Claws for Alarm, then an airdash done by blasting blood backwards, which allowed her to land another Claws for Alarm from behind. Finally, Nadia pulled off a somersault in order to bring the hammer down with an El Gato axe kick that bounced Purge off the ground just before she herself touched down. “Paw-ty time!”

With her opponent helpless in hitstun, Nadia kept the pain train rolling with the first two claw slashes of her Cat Scratch rekka. When she attempted to combo into one of Ángel’s unchain starters, though, Purge slipped from her grasp, flipped out, and landed right in front of her as her upward punch hit nothing but air. “Crap!” Luckily, Purge wasn’t exactly ready for this outcome either, and his first instinct was just to throw her. He clamped down one massive rotor-hand on Nadia’s torso, lifted her up while spinning her, then sent her tumbling with a point-blank fireblast.

“Oof!” Nadia hit the ground once, then rolled onto her feet. She found Purge already on his way with another propeller dash, and reflexively woke up with her tried-and-true Fiber Upper reversal, only to be reminded that her high mule kick had lost its armor thanks to her fusion with Ángel. “Damn it!” Purge’s rotors cleaved through her attempted counterstrike to knock her hyper-extended legs askew, and when he followed through with a revolving lariat, her limbs flew off in different directions.

Gritting her teeth with a smile, Nadia improvised. She spun around in a handstand, first blinding Purge with a spray of blood to the face, then slapping him with her tail to prompt a high guard. “Go into de-tail!” Then she whirled like a breakdancer, extending cords of muscle fiber like grappling hooks to attach to her fallen legs and snap them back into place. “I’ll break my limb-its!” Just as Purge shook off the blood, Nadia hit him low with a sweeping low spin strike. She knew it’d be a tricky conversion, but the feral connected with Ear Piercing anyway, pulling her head out of her hood to strike with ears hardened into spikes. When she whipped around to try another unchain starter, this time a heel kick, she realized that Ear Piercing had knocked Purge out of her reach and dropped her combo again. “Oh, fur Pete’s sake-!”

This time, Purge punished with a low kick, prop shredder, and arced flame spray that left her sizzling. “Hah! You’re rustier than Ssapo!” Speaking of the devil, Ssapo rushed in to slam her down with a double ground pound as she fell away from Purge’s flames. The Kameo’s hefty blow drove the wind from her lungs as it floored her, but the combo ended there, so with an annoyed groan Nadia rolled to her feet. By then Purge had taken to the skies with the rotor on his back, and as Nadia watched he flew her way, his raucous laughter filling the air as his flamethrowers spewed downward in a fiery bombing run.

She ran and dove out of the way, barely avoiding a flame bath as Purge left the arena ablaze and flew a dozen feet out over the water. As she sprang up, her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. “Hey wait, isn’t that out of bounds?” She glanced at Robo-fortune, her indignant expression demanding an answer, but her doppelganger just shrugged. “Well, get him!” Robo obliged, and as Purge turned around, he took a medium Theonite Beam to the chest. He lost control and plummeted toward the water with a grunt of surprise, prompting a big grin and fist pump from Nadia. Much to her chagrin, though, the cyborg caught himself mere inches above the pool’s surface, his propeller arms so close to the water beneath him that they sent ripples in all directions.

“Oh, come on!” Nadia sprinted forward as Purge hovered back over the stage, desperate to avoid a disqualification. The pilot lights in his robotic palms blazed blue, so Nadia knew more flame was coming her way. She leaped into the air to avoid his fireballs, then spiked her own head down at him. Purge landed and used his bulky arms to block the makeshift projectile, which bounced off and fell to the ground, then extended his spinning rotors to anti-air Nadia’s body as she double jumped toward him. Instead her detached head chomped on his ankle. “I chews you!” she cried, her voice muffled. Purge yelped as Nadia’s body descended with another axe kick to start up the round-ending combo. With his back to the water and his guard opened up, victory seemed all but assured.

“SSAPO!”

In an instant, the green meanie was by his fellow cyborg’s side. With a giant wallop Ssapo broke Nadia’s combo before it even really began, sending her flying back with a yowl. Purge took flight at low altitude and dashed forward, immediately putting distance between himself and the stage’s edge. Nadia sank her claws into the stone and slid to a stop on all fours, furious. “Killjoy!” her detached head yelled. “Take it like a man!”

“Take THIS!” With the help of his back rotor Purge twirled forward like a ballerina, spraying fire in a huge spiral to cover the arena in flaming fuel.

With her head in serious danger, Nadia pressurized her legs, then launched upward in a blood-assisted superjump. “Robo!” Her Kameo leaped up after her, then opened her chest to fire off another Theonite Laser at a downward angle. The radiant laser struck Purge head-on, cutting his infernal mayhem short, and the next second Nadia carved through the pink beam as a yellow lightning bolt with Charge. Her headless body rematerialized behind her opponent as he began to fall over, popped him up with a backward high kick to the spine, then leaped up in a backflip that ended in a double electric stomp to Purge’s chest. Sparks flew as the impact cratered him into the arena, and when he failed to rise, the Heavenly Principles declared that round one belonged to Nadia. MS FORTUNE WINS.

“Hah!” The feral stepped away to grab her head and pop it back into her head. Although she couldn’t see anyone she knew nearby, she hoped that Annie and maybe Primrose were still watching. Robo did not look terribly impressed, but she didn’t look disappointed, either. Nadia grinned at her opponent as he came to his senses. “Way to go, helicop-twerp. That was actually purr-etty a-mew-sing!”

Groaning, Purge shook his head and picked himself up. “Laugh while you still can. This isn’t over yet!”

---

With a grave expression, Band withdrew from the lifestream, the image of the Four Kings atop their ivory tower fading from view. He’d already heard plenty about Esaka’s overlords during his investigation, but seeing them so close he felt practically face-to-face with them was something else. As amazing as the magic that coursed through this city was, each little miracle was just another cog in the machine that ground countless proud fighters into fuel for Moebius. At his age, and with his current fighting prowess, Band did not have high hopes about winning the tournament and wiping that hideous smile off Bison’s face himself, but he would not hesitate to do his part.

Still, even as he steeled himself for battle, the detective couldn’t help but wonder about the Four Kings’ words. Shao Kahn and Rugal said little of import, but Heihachi referenced the attack on Banish Flats last night directly, happily laying the blame at Kazuya’s feet and kicking off a bounty hunt. Whether or not anyone could actually physically bring Heihachi the head of Kazuya didn’t really matter. Unless it too was misdirection, the announcement meant that the Four Kings -and by extension, Moebius- might not be to blame for the onslaught after all.

Bison, meanwhile, mentioned an attempt on his life. Had the would-be assassin failed last night, or actually succeeded, only to realize now that Bison’s death didn’t take? Either way, the perpetrator probably hadn’t been a Seeker, not after Xilgrev’s words of warning at lunch yesterday. Then again, Band reasoned, it could have been a Seeker who hadn’t been there, like Junior, Rika, or Juri. The matter definitely warranted further investigation, but before he could look into it, Band needed to deal with the problem right in front of him.

Band and Rasputin locked eyes, the former’s narrowed in a scrutinous manner, the latter’s half-lidded with amusement. Golden letters soaked up from the floor to begin the match, and just like that, the fight was on.

“Giant Step!” Right away, Band deployed a huge drum pedal to knock his opponent down. Unfortunately, Rasputin just so happened to try a jump-in first thing. If Band had been more patient, an anti-air with Beat Extend would have been easy, but now he faced a fireball cast from a magic orb between the sorcerer’s hands. It splashed against his shoulder, close enough that he could feel its heat on his cheeks, and as he stumbled backward Rasputin landed in front of him.

He raised a hand as if to slap Band, albeit too far away for him to reach, until some sort of yellow energy surrounded his hand and created a huge, tire-sized mitt. The resulting slap caught Band by surprise, though he managed to raise his guard in time to block the following backhand and a big slap from Rasputin’s other hand as well. For his forth strike the sorcerer went for a massive overhand slap, but this time the blow clashed against Band’s cymbal, deployed lickety-split to effectively parry the attack. “Uh huh.” The detective struck back with a double low trombone, then a trombone knee to leave Rasputin aloft. He followed his foe into the air to soften him up with a tambourine Jelly Roll followed by a clarinet spike downward. “Gimme a hit!” A good old-fashioned Brass Knuckle ended the short but sweet combo by hurtling Rasputin away, closer to the stage’s edge.

“My, my!” Rasputin righted himself quickly, and as Band approached one big dash at a time, he launched a fireball. “Come, fire!” Band had to stop to block it, but by the time he got moving again, his opponent had already jumped backward and launched another downward fireball in the air. “Come, fire!” Yet again, the detective had to cut his advance short, and Rasputin used the brief window to launch another spell. “Thunder!” This time he wound up like a pitcher, then hurled an electric orb that clashed against Band’s block several times before fizzling out.

By now Rasputin had reached the edge of the arena and couldn’t retreat anymore, but when Band tried to close the gap with Brass Knuckle, Rasputin just leaped over him and took advantage of the detective’s recovery by retreating the other way. “Ice ball!” When Band turned around and dashed forward, he got interrupted by a projectile that froze him solid for a moment, just long enough for another fireball to thaw him out. He grimaced, his lip curled at Rasputin. “We doin’ this already?” he grumbled.

“Sorry–you’re just too easy a target!” Rasputin shrugged as he wound up another pitch. “Don’t worry. You’ll learn to love it!”

This time, Band leaped over the lightning orb. It took some doing to get his huge frame off the ground, but it effectively bypassed Rasputin’s spell. The sorcerer raised an eyebrow and continued to retreat, changing up his cast timing a little, but Band adapted his jump timing to compensate. After another few seconds, Rasputin ran out of room. Band now had to make a guess as to what his foe would do next, and without a moment’s hesitation he placed his bet.

Band slid forward with the momentum of a Brass Knuckle, then stopped himself short with Emergency Break in order to launch Beat Extend. Rasputin, meanwhile, bet everything on his own reversal, an empowered series of cossack kicks that carried him into the air. Band’s armor absorbed the hit, and the next second his giant tambourine halves slammed together on Rasputin’s torso, where an uproarious shake of the tambourine left him dizzy from sound stun.

When the sorcerer fell, Band let loose the standard combo he’d practiced last night. He crouched and caught his foe with a tiny oboe extended up from his foot, blasted him with Bass Drop, then buoyed him up with a saxophone strike. From there, he followed Rasputin into the air to land two soundblasts from his lateral caps, then a five hundred pound dropkick. He fell, then teched forward when he hit the ground, gaining enough distance to hit Rasputin off the ground with his double trombone thrust, launch a light Brass Knuckle, then cancel into his level one Blockbuster Super Sonic Jazz. “Horn crush!” He bulled forward as a giant french horn, carrying Rasputin with him. With no stage corner for his foe to bounce off of, the sorcerer simply went flying even after Band himself slid to a stop, and the next moment Rasputin splashed into the drink.

RING OUT declared the Heavenly Principles. BIG BAND WINS

Band watched, ready to help if need be, as Rasputin climbed out of the water. He was breathing heavily, but fresh energy surged through his veins, and the same went for Band. “The world is full of obvious things,” he taunted. Though not normally one to showboat, anyone who tried and somehow failed to zone him out probably deserved it.

“Oho, getting cocky, are we?” Smiling, Rasputin wrung the water out from his robe, then pressed his palms together and created a handful of flashing lights. “Looks like it’s time to heat things up!”

---

Mere moments after the Four Kings’ announcement concluded, the anticipatory energy that coursed through the entirety of the Pools tier was unleashed, and the fighters launched into action. Each raft, bridge, island, and platform became a battleground where two or more duelists vied for supremacy. Some fights were quick and chaotic scrambled as aggressive fighters slugged it out, while other exchanges were controlled and calculated by masters who claimed and defended their territory with potent projectiles and precise footwork. In Mortal Kombat matches, Kameo fighters leaped into the fray to apply extra pressure, extend combos, or save their partners’ skin, while King of Fighters matches saw three one-on-ones conducted simultaneously. The Pools had become a sea of highs and lows, mixups and setups, ring outs and time outs, American resets, Mexican uppercuts, and Korean backdashes.

To an outsider, it might look like sheer madness, but there was indeed a method to it. In fact, thanks to the Heavenly Principles, just about every last thing that these vast and varied fighters could -and couldn’t- do in these tournaments was strictly defined and controlled, even if the duellists themselves didn’t realize it. This delicate and sometimes fluid balance, painstakingly maintained and adjusted, was struck in the name of fairness–in the name of healthy competition, without which fights were but violence. It was something that even Moebius, who sought to bend everything to their will, could not control.

Yet even if she could not control it, it was something that the masked woman in red, who now stood at the railing on the edge of Esaka’s middle tier, could still appreciate. Along with a handful of Esaka citizens who spectated in a similar manner, she stared down at the Pools to watch the matches therein, her imperial gaze lingering on any that happened to catch her fancy. None of the Four Kings had descended from the Top Tier to observe the Pools alongside her; even if they could teleport like she could, they had better things to do. This part of the tournament was beneath them, both physically and metaphorically. Only on Sunday could the lucky few who reached the coveted Top 8 expect any King to spectate in person. Yet the Lady Consul watched nonetheless. Was she here for petty amusement, or did another reason demand her presence? With her face veiled behind that distinctive helmet of hers, it was impossible to say.

Down below, on one of the many stone bridges elevated above the water that allowed pedestrians to navigate the Pools, the woman who’d been quietly gazing up at the Consul turned away and continued walking. She happened to be one of the few people in the tier not to fight, but to observe the fighters in action, be they amateurs trying their luck or masters thinning the herd. With dozens of matches unfolding before her in every direction, she was certainly spoiled for choice. She wandered through the maze of walkways at a leisurely pace, never stopping to watch any particular bout for more than a single round.

As she drifted around, looking here and there, passers-by (and even the more easily distracted fighters down on their stages) could be forgiven for looking back. After all, this woman happened to be an exceptional beauty. Her sunglasses and pale skin suggested a sensitivity to sunlight, and her vivid indigo hair, worn in a huge braid that reached her calves, swung behind her as she walked. She rocked an elaborately patterned lavender Japanese kimono, worn just off the shoulder and with a short enough skirt to elicit plenty of admiring looks. Her huge sleeves and coattails gave her outfit a regal, flowing quality, aided by her getup’s pale gold ornamentation, especially on the purple jewel that adorned her burgundy sash. Yet, despite her obvious beauty, wealth, and status, she walked around with neither escort nor weapon at her side, seemingly content to flit around like any ordinary spectator.

At the moment, this elegant lady happened to be meandering through the World Warrior section of the Pools tier, seemingly ignorant of any attention that might come her way. She paused to observe Harry’s narrow victory over a mass-produced Combot, then not long after, admired the decisive finish of Grima’s match against Danny. The dragon vessel’s braggadocious taunt to her opponent after immersing him brought a brief but radiant smile to the lady’s face as she prepared to move on.



Once the ground team breached into Sector 2, it quickly became clear that fighting through Raphael Space Center would be no cake walk. A variety of Skullhead warriors crowned by vile, skull-faced cephalopods arrived en masse, simultaneously tough and numerous enough to pose a serious threat to the Seekers and their stagecoach. The heroes were ready for action, though, and as they rallied to their ride’s defense, the expedition’s biggest battle yet began.

As usual, Sandalphon chose to support from the rear, taking the high ground atop the stagecoach with Vault. A quick head count revealed thirty-six Skullheads, three for each Seeker currently present, plus a little extra. No two mutated corpses looked exactly alike, or bore identical weapons, but enough looked similar that Sandalphon could categorize them into three groups: thirteen scrappy Skull Fighters, eleven ranged Skull Gunners, and ten heavy Skull Troopers.

Their numbers advantage wasn’t quite as significant as it might first appear, however, with Edward’s minions in play. Using his golems, hybrids, and other underlings, the strategist quickly assembled a defensive line to stop the tide of Naytibas before it could sweep over the stagecoach and its Shieldrix pullers. They weren’t just cannon fodder, either; with a variety of physical and elemental abilities up their sleeves, Edward’s supernatural squadron could get the Skullheads’ attention and do appreciable damage. With his forces around to slow down the enemy onslaught, the rest of the Seekers could divide and conquer.

From her vantage point on the stagecoach’s roof, Sandalphon supported the front line, eschewing most of her abilities in favor of honed marksmanship. She plugged away at the Naytibas with mechanical regularity and precision, and each semi-automatic cast of her Hexagun hit its mark. Though the Skullings effectively shielded their hosts’ heads, preventing any extra damage from headshots, each miniature arcane crater left in their rugose, mucus-ridden skin would make the cephalopods that much easier to eliminate once their host bodies crumbled beneath them. For once, lady luck was on the archangel’s side as well, since it did not take her long to find out that if a shot from her Hexagun procced a polymorph, each Skullhead counted a single unit that the lucky shot could transform. Sandalphon managed to reduce three Naytibas to mundane chickens that way, which she left to be trampled in the surrounding melee as she moved on to her next target.

In the midst of her sharpshooting, Sandalphon did make use of one ability: the power granted by her fusion with Azure. Whenever too many Skullheads clustered together, she made sure to manifest a Cerulean Mirage in their midst. Then, whether it distracted the Naytibas or not, she nailed her bright blue doppelganger with a headshot to trigger a diamond-shaped explosion. That brilliant blast inevitably scattered the surrounding Naytibas in all directions, softened up and stumbling. Each mirage also left a blue tile on the ground, which Sandalphon kept track of. She didn’t just shoot her enemies, though. With just a few dextrous adjustments, she could swap out her red Destruction spell bullets for orange Order spell bullets that could repair the Iron Golems (and even Plastic Walls) she fired at. That meant that even while saving her healing miracles for emergencies, the archangel could keep the stagecoach’s main line of defense in good condition.

Rather than immerse himself in the thick of it, Heismay stuck to one side of the dance floor, preferring like Geralt to circle around and pick off a couple foes from the skull mob’s flank. While the Witcher took on several at once, confident in his Quen shield and harpoon pile bunker, Heismay darted around the action to challenge a Skull Gunner slinging toxic globules over its allies’ squid-heads from a safe distance. “Face me!” As he ran, glowing orange lines streaked across his diminutive form, preceding his transformation into the Assassin. A well-aimed Mudo crashed into the mutant’s body, prompting its head to swivel in his direction. It swung its arm wide to hurl a big splash of sizzling poison, but Heismay reverted as he leaped into the air, easily clearing the toxic spray. His longsaber gleamed in the ambient light of the Space Center as he brought it down in an all-out overhead chop aimed at the Skulling itself. “Hyah!”

The gunner threw up its bloated right arm to defend its loathsome squid-head. Heismay’s blade cut through the deformed flesh to the bone, but no further. Now just inches away from the vile thing, Heismay recognized the gruesome swell of the mottled yellow cysts and averted his face just in the nick of time. When the poison sacs burst, his parka took the worst of it, and as the gunner swung its head-tentacles at him, he wrenched his blade free in order to block the blow and flip away. “Bah!” As he landed, his vision swam from close proximity to the noxious chemicals. “Hmph.” He ripped the parked off and tossed it away, his wings and big ears no longer restricted.

“Monstrous you may be,” he muttered, readying his blade as the gunner prepared to fire. “But beneath those mutations, that body of yours is still human!” He took off running, circling around as the Naytiba blasted off bile again and again. Each sticky stream missed him, and as he closed the distance, the gunner tried one last ditch attempt: a powerful ground pound from its right arm, strong enough to forcibly rupture all its remaining sacs at once and create a toxic geyser. But Heismay took to the air, flapping his wings to make his jump even higher and faster. He flipped over the gunner, landed behind it, and pivoted around with a lethal slice that cut through the pant legs and work boots to sever both achilles tendons at once. With an awful squeal, the gunner toppled backward onto the swordblade propped up beneath it, which pierced through the Skulling’s face and the wretched head beneath. Heismay nearly buckled beneath all the dead weight atop him, but with a heroic effort managed to shove the corpse off and onto the floor beside him.

It was then, as he stood catching his breath over the disintegrating body, that he heard Geralt’s shout. His ears went straight as his eyes widened, and he looked over his shoulder to see the Skulling he’d stabbed wriggling away toward another corpse, a trail of brownish ichor left in its wake. “Damn it!” he echoed, which got the attention of two Skull Fighters behind. Even as they came his way, Heismay turned tail to run down the Skulling and finish it off with a quick slash. As it squealed and died, he spotted the Skulling that eluded Geralt, bound for and nearly at the same cadaver that his own meant to claim. “Oh no.” He made to pursue it, but one of the Skull Fighters reached him just then, forcing him to dodge away to avoid a grisly strike to his back. That gave the rogue Skulling just enough time to sink its toothy tentacles into its new host, rapidly mutating it.

“Curses!” Now surrounded by three Naytibas, Heismay had no time to waste. He pivoted around as he became the Assassin to unleash a Lurking Nightblade. The bleak slash struck both fighters mid-tackle, cursing them with reduced dexterity. As his Archetype faded, Heismay took a deep breath, then charged. “No holds barred!” He knocked one poleaxe aside, then the other, turning back and forth between both opponents. The eugief became a whirlwind of steel as he slashed and parried, quickly racking up damage. Finally, one fighter went for broke with a massive horizontal sweep, followed shortly by a massive overhead smash from its partner. Heismay dove over the former, narrowly sidestepped the latter, then lopped off one of the offender’s overextended arms with a diagonal slash. He sprang, slicing not once but twice in the air, then as the other Naytiba stabbed at him, kicked off his first target’s Skulling to bounce upward. In its haste to impale its target, the fighter stabbed its fellow. Heismay then landed on the polearm’s shaft, grasped his longsaber with both hands, and decapitated the other skullhead with a full-force cleave. “GRAH!”

The Skulling fell to the ground and oozed away at top speed, but Heismay was ready. “No escape!” He leaped after it, inverted his blade, and plunged it into Naytiba’s body to end it once and for all.

Before Heismay could take stock of the situation, though, a jet of toxic fluid struck him in the back. He snarled in pain, whipping around to find the new Skull Gunner created by the Skulling that got away from Geralt. It raised its arm to fire again, only to be struck by a spell bullet from Sandalphon that nearly knocked it over. As it struggled to steady itself, a Cerulean Mirage appeared behind it, then took another shot and blew up. The force of the explosion sent the Naytibas skidding toward Heismay, who did not hesitate to take his revenge with as many slashes to the gunner’s Skulling as it took. When he looked over, he saw Sandalphon running his way, having abandoned her vantage point to take the battlefield herself. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing this.” Sandalphon took off running. By now, the other Seekers had made a lot of progress, but the enemy force had proven difficult to reduce. For every Skulling finished off, another got away to raise another host body and continue the fight. By now, the members of her team had spent the whole day on his or her feet, if not fighting. As everyone’s fatigue mounted, they made more mistakes and took more injuries. Unlike Belial, these skullheads weren’t going for the stagecoach; they were trying to kill the Seekers, and a battle of attrition would not favor any haggard heroes. Luckily, a prolonged battle allowed Sandalphon to create a lot of blue tiles, and now the archangel sprinted through the mayhem as fast as she could, her path carefully calculated to hit all the tiles as quickly as possible. She took a few glancing blows on the way, but Sandalphon fought through the pain, and as she reached the final tile she created another Cerulean Mirage, then fired her hexagun -which swirled with blue power- multiple times into the air.

The next moment, her Nitro Storm began. Brilliant blue bolts descended like arrows from heaven, thirty-six of them raining down across a diamond-shaped area. Her mirage followed suit with a smaller, more concentrated volley, and by the time the dazzling Nitro Storm finally finished, only smoking Skullings remained. Heismay and the others could wipe them out with ease, bringing the chaotic brawl to an end.

Using a scrap of cloth, the eugief let out a heavy sigh of relief as he began to clean his blade. “I am impressed,” he admitted.

“It was nothing,” Sandalphon affirmed. Though her sprint had been relatively short, she was breathing heavily, too. “The credit lies with all you who held the line for so long. I am grateful for your efforts.”

“Let us hope the other sectors are more lightly defended,” Heismay added forebodingly.

Noise from the center of the Raphael Space Center got their attention. With the Naytiba biomass cleared away, the space elevator was coming online. It seemed like Lily had worked her magic over in Sector 8. “I suppose ‘tis time for you to depart,” Heismary remarked.

Sandalphon nodded and made for the Sector 2 bridge along with anyone who wished to accompany her, bound for the lowest of the elevator’s three floors. Once the automatic door closed behind her, Edward and the rest of White Team who remained were left to navigate the rest of the space center on their own.

Aboard the lift, Sandalphon reunited with Adam, Eve, and Lily, who entered from the opposite side. “Ah, there you are.”

“Looks like you made it. And cleared off the contamination, to boot.” Eve flashed her an appreciative smile. “We’re lucky to have your team’s help.”

Lily nodded. “And now you get to come to space with us! I can’t wait to see it myself. Final pre-checks are good to go, so the lift should be starting up any minute now-”

As if on cue, the door to the lift’s stairwell slid open, and a somewhat creepy looking robot in servant attire stepped in. “Good evening and welcome, passengers,” she greeted Sandalphon and the others in a tinny voice. “Preparations are complete, and the orbital elevator will begin its ascent in T-minus sixty seconds. Please help yourselves to a drink, take a seat, and enjoy the ride to your new home in the Colony.”

Sandalphon looked around the elevator’s first floor. Roughly circular in shape, it appeared to be a large lounge, with a long plush couch that ran along the side with an exterior window and other accommodations, including mini-fridges, beds, and even an aquarium. Not expecting such comfort in such a hostile facility, Sandalphon seated herself on the couch somewhat awkwardly. As the other chatted about their mission, she stared out of the window at the interior of the space center, and waited. “Now recording.”

After a few more moments, the whole three-tier structure began to rise. It lifted off smoothly, without any jolts or turbulence, then began to accelerate at an astonishing rate. In seconds Raphael Space Center was gone, replaced by a nighttime winter wonderland that extended for miles and miles. Then that too vanished as the elevator shot into the clouds, and scant seconds later, the impenetrable haze fell away to reveal a sea of dark clouds beneath a grand night sky. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, Sandalphon’s heart quickened with fear and exhilaration as she soared up, up, and away from the world she could make sense of, into an unfathomably vast unknown far beyond even her understanding.



Sandalphon stared with empty pupils, mesmerized, through the elevator window as the landscape and atmosphere receded beneath her. In the dark of night, colors were indistinct, but she could see nodes of light like nerve clusters scattered across and beyond the murky, ring-shaped continent. In the distance she could see the glowing contour of the planet itself, highlighted baniridescent blue by the fleeing light of the sun. And beyond that radiant horizon lay the infinite, pitch black void of space. It was an inimitably marvellous sight, and a transcendental experience. No words could encapsulate what the passengers were seeing and feeling, even those who’d traversed space before, so they sat in spellbound silence until the orbital elevator finally began to slow down.

As the robotic attendant bid the passengers farewell, Sandalphon slowly stepped out of the lift structure through a newly-opened access tunnel, dazedly leaning on her gunstaff for support. Though Lily had scampered ahead in her excitement to see the space station, she returned once she saw the archangel lagging behind. “You alright? You went pretty quiet during the ride up.”

Sandalphon swallowed, then nodded. Her eyes wandered to Adam, who Eve was checking up on as well. The scavenger let out his breath slowly with a shake of his head. “I’m…fine. It’s just…a lot to take in, you know? Seeing the whole world laid out like that…it really makes you think. Gives you perspective on how small we all really are.” Chuckling, he smiled at Eve. “Of course, it’s probably old hat to you ladies, seeing as you’re from the colony and all.”

“Well, it’s true it’s not new to us,” Eve admitted. “But it’s still significant. To you two, it might feel like leaving your whole world behind. But to us, it feels…like coming home.” She looked away. “Let’s not get distracted, though. We still have a mission to do. Lily, where to from here?”

Right now everyone stood in a fairly clean-looking sci-fi interior, predominantly a stark white with color-coded subsections like a supply room, an infirmary, and an armory. After looking around, the engineer consulted her equipment, and came away puzzled. “The Alpha signal…it’s kind of all over the place.” She tapped the screen a few times, then glanced down a hallway toward a violet-coded atrium with eastern decor. “It’s strongest over there, though. The Central Core should be that way.”

Although part of Sandalphon wanted to explore this alien structure, despite her fear of the lifeless vacuum beyond its reinforced walls, it did not feel right to run off scavenging for loot while Eve and the others hastened toward a difficult battle. The archangel followed behind them as they proceeded down a windowed corridor, its glass sides providing ample view of the planet below. After a few more moments, the team reached the Central Core, a sprawling atrium overrun with Naytiba contamination. In an instant Sandalphon’s trepidatious wonderment vanished, replaced by cold watchfulness. “Did we make it?” Eve asked, looking around.

“We did, but…” Lily pursed her lips as she double-checked her equipment. “There’s a strong electromagnetic field surrounding this place. It feels just like the eye of a hurricane.”

The lights flickered. A low, rumbling groan echoed through the huge chamber, the product of many voices. Sandalphon instantly thought of the Gravemind, though thankfully this sound was nowhere near as vast and ancient as that. She and Adam launched a scan at the same time, and in an instant both identified the source. “Up there!”

As everyone’s gaze turned upward, something detached from the nest of cancerous growths on the ceiling–a wriggling, pale mass. It fell to the floor the next moment where Sandalphon finally got a good look at it. Its lower half was a mess of whitish tentacles, malformed limbs, and mechanical augmentations, while its upper half seemed to be a bulbous mass of tarry, tormented faces, their pitch-black eyes and mouths agape as locks of dark hair sprouted up from between them. Above the biotechnological amalgamation floated something that disturbed Sandalphon even more: a blue ring of pulsing plasma, in the unmistakable shape of a halo.

“My goodness…” Lily breathed just before the monster’s many faces screamed, their hideous echo filling the room.

When Eve looked at it, though, her expression held more pity than horror. “W-what…what did you…” As she watched, the Democrawler reached up with its one humanoid arm and pulled out a cable plugged into its head, which leaked black gunk all over the floor. “What have you done to yourself?”

Sandalphon glanced at her, taken aback.

As the twisted voices rang in her ears, Eve reached up and unfurled her swordblade. “I see. All that pain…” She stepped forward as Sandalphon and the others pulled back, her expression resolute. “I’ll put an end to it.”

---

After the Seekers’ victory over the Skullheads, and Sandalphon’s departure for the space elevator, the victors could regroup before pushing forward. There had been no irreplaceable losses, and the stagecoach hadn’t taken any damage that Edward or Ace could identify. Everyone was more or less healthy, although after such a pitched battle on top of a long day of exertion, their energy reserves were lower than ever. Heismay guessed that they would be setting up camp for the night soon after they left Spire 04 behind. Hopefully Edward’s drones could keep watch in lieu of any lookouts and permit everyone a full night’s rest.

Before the team could exit the Raphael Space Center, though, there were two more sectors to get through. Although not as overgrown with Naytiba biomass as the previous threshold, the faulty door to Sector 3 would take some muscle to get open. Fortunately, this expedition had plenty.

When they entered Sector 3, the heroes saw something strange. A handful of Naytibas, including both droids and Skullheads, was to be expected. The sight of them turning tail and fleeing the moment they laid eyes on the intruders was not. They retreated through the open door to Sector 4, which appeared to be more dimly lit. Heismay did not like it -that place had ‘ambush’ written all over it- but after that last fight against almost three dozen Naytibas, no Seeker felt overly threatened. These monsters were little more than beasts, so why would an even stronger force be waiting in reserve? As long as they were cautious and made sure that they could retreat into the more open, well-lit space of Sector 3 if necessary, they should be able to continue along this pace toward the space center’s exit.

Inside the dimly-lit sector, the Seekers found a couple more Naytibas, but not many. Less than a dozen total, they hung back against the wall and in the dark corners, not in the manner of lurking predators but fearful prey. They were not alone though. Directly in front of the Sector 5 door sat a pile of scrap crudely fashioned into a huge, heavy chair, and on that throne sat a huge figure, its exact features and proportions obscured. It held something in its hand, roughly the size and shape of a tuna can, and from it was projected the bright blue hologram of a woman with long, dark hair. Its light illuminated the creature just enough to vaguely suggest its horrific true nature.

“-record of human history,” the hologram was saying. “A war ignited by Mother Sphere broke out, and as previously recorded, humanity was defeated. Earth then became the stage for the Andro-Eidos. Andro-Eidos declared themselves the new human race. This new human race, with Mother Sphere at its heart, made tremendous progress and advanced the human race. And the surviving humans…the real humans…they fled to underground facilities. Some, led by Raphael Marks, waited here at this facility for an opportunity to strike back. During this time, the surviving humans evolved in order to gain the strength to face the androids. The result of genetic engineering and rapid evolution. Beings that have lost everything…everything but brute strength and survival instinct…that’s what they’ve become. Monsters. The monsters that we’re fighting…are the Naytibas.”

The hologram faded, and the Legacy deactivated. The sitting figure shifted slightly, looking up at the intruders, then back down at the Legacy. With the slightest squeeze, the device shattered into pieces. Then the monster reached down to grasp the handle of a huge hammer, which it hefted onto its shoulder as it stood. As it stepped forward, a white light from behind the Seekers fell upon it, illuminating a massive Naytiba crowned by a grotesque amalgamate Skulling, its bloated mass adorned by five golden masks. Even as the lesser Naytibas cowered, the Juggernaut stood tall, ready to defend what little it had.

Even if it was just one big brute, though, Heismay did not feel at ease. Upon picking up the sound of heavy footsteps, he turned to see the source of the light behind the team getting closer. After a brief, confused moment he then gasped, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. That spotlight belonged to another monster he’d heard about but never seen himself, the cunning stalker that nearly laid waste to the stagecoach. Belial had finally returned. With the giant in front and the swordsman in back, the Seekers were pincered. Yet again they would need to divide and conquer, but this time it was do or die.

—
It was Sakura’s favorite time of the day. Of the month. Of the year! Of the life, really. Fighting time!

A small wooden platform. Empty seats. Just her, the Heavenly Principles, and her opponent. Sakura bounced on her heels, than from foot to foot, keeping herself spry and ready. She shadow boxed the air, fists quick as a whip.

Her opponent took to the stage. A man with a mohawk, his beige skin marked by scars, his tough glare hidden behind tougher shades. He was wearing a big, open orange hoodie over a t-shirt and sneakers. Infact, they had a lot in common, fashion wise! Except Sakura’s jacket was colorful and blue, her white top was cropped, and she had a bandana instead of sunglasses.

But Sakura had heard of this guy. He was a legendary thug in the underworld. Two P. He had over a foot of height on her, and sported a dangerous looking switchblade in his belt.

Sakura was certain she was going to beat the living daylights out of him.

”Pleased to meet you.” Sakura said with a bow.

“Hey, yeah, alright, me too, man.” Two P said. “Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you, chick.”

”Go all out! I want to know your true strength.” She punched her fist into her palm.

The auto referee, or ‘Heavenly Principles’, spoke out.

ROUND ONE: THREE, TWO, ONE. FIGHT!

Two-P took a boxing stance, shuffling on his feet. Sakura took her karate stance and galloped forward.

Two-P wound up his mighty fist to strike at Sakura. Then, he was curled up into a ball on the ground shielding his head as she rained punches down upon him. “AAAAH HEY CUT IT OUT MAN HEY!” He pleaded.

KO!

Sakura backed up, clapping her hands once together.

SAKURA WINS! PERFECT!

Two P’s stomach still ached from where she slugged him, and after she roundhouse kicked him in the head his ears were ringing. ”It’s best two out of three!” Sakura encouraged.

“Alright! No more mister nice guy!” Two P brushed himself off and got out his knife as he rose to his feet. Its blade shone in the morning daylight.

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

Two P shook his head and knife around, his eyes bulging behind his glasses. A classic scare tactic. It would scare anyone in their boots. Flipping his knife skillfully between his fingers and then his hands, he sliced it out several times towards Sakura’s face. Then, he curled into a ball and protected his head as Sakura rained punches down upon him. “HEY MAN WHAT THE CUT IT OUT NOT COOL MAN, COME ON!”

KO!

”Yay, I did it!” Sakura celebrated with a little wiggle of her hands. ”Okay, well. Good luck in Losers Bracket!” With that she turned and skipped away.

SAKURA WINS! PERFECT!

Two P sat on the ground and looked at his knife where it had fallen after she twisted his wrist and fingers. His nose was busted from when she elbowed him twice in the face, and his knee hurt from where she swept his leg. The young woman, no older than twenty, with such a friendly face, held nothing back and absolutely disassembled him twice in a row. Two P didn’t feel like he had gotten into a fight as much as he volunteered to get shoved down the stairs.

“Man…where the hell do these people come from?” Two P asked. Only the universe knew the answer to that.

As their second round began, Iron Monk charged forward and leaned into a double fist strike. Zenkichi blocked, sending out a low probing kick which Iron Monk jumped, kicking Zenkichi in the chest with his own foot. Grunting, Zenkichi forced Iron Monk back with a wild swing of his Greatsword. He planted the weapon in the ground and taunted, gesturing for Iron Monk to ‘come and get it.’ The monk hopped back, paused, brought his hands to his chin, and swept them down his body as he exhaled, expelling his negative emotions with a sigh.

And caught a punch to that same chin, which earned a hiss from Zenkichi at the dull throb in his hand. ”Not my best idea, but if you really want to see me win with ‘honor’, I’ll humor you. But I’m not going to lose to give you a sense of fair play.” Iron Monk, wisely, did not take the bait this time, instead launching himself forward in a corkscrew. Zenkichi ducked the blow, catching the steely gray warrior by the leg and violently slamming him onto the ground before grabbing him, pulling his leg into his grasp and stomping Iron Monk’s other knee, pulling his legs apart.

It didn’t take Iron Monk long to break the grip, but when he did, Zenkichi hopped back rather than get caught in a reversal, keeping his gaze locked on his opponent. Iron Monk returned to neutral, but stood in place and met Zenkichi’s gaze. He would lose if the time ended, having taken more hits this round. The men sized each other up for at least a good five seconds, which was sure to make for riveting viewing for the audience.

Eventually, Iron Monk must have found his target, because he advanced rapidly, sliding into a low kick before following up with a four-hit combo. Zenkichi met the kick with his own, but was caught off guard at the combo, only putting up a guard by the third hit. He immediately retaliated once the combo ended, which Iron Monk dodged, slamming an elbow into Zenkichi’s back before launching himself into the air in a whirling tornado, his body rotating with his arms outstretched.

The number of individual hits was nearly uncountable, and Zenkichi was launched a good ten feet back, near the edge of the platform. The combo into Chi Helicopter had him on his last legs, but if he could force a ring out, Zenkichi could still take the round. Rising, he took a defensive stance, not blocking but intentionally showing his weakness.

Iron Monk could see that Zenkichi was close to down for the round, but rather than wait out the timer, continued forward. There would be no honor in winning by a technicality, by merely the rules that their overlords had placed upon them. He had chosen Tekken for its simplicity, its purity. He would fight and win, not simply win. As he approached, however, he made probing strikes and simple hits, wary of being caught mid-combo and knocked out of the ring.

Zenkichi avoided and blocked the light, probing strikes that Iron Monk sent his way, only offering a couple of spacing jabs himself to keep Iron Monk from committing to any attacks that could prove difficult to manage. He wouldn’t go for a corkscrew this close to the edge, but if he could get Iron Monk to go for a grab, Zenkichi was sure he could turn the situation to his advantage.

Iron Monk went for a low kick to try and trip Zenkichi, but the Phantom Thief sidestepped the blow and retaliated with a one-two punch combo, terribly executed and easily avoided. It was much sloppier than his other attacks, though the monk could not tell if this was intentional or out of desperation, the timer rapidly approaching zero. He retaliated with a double-fist punch into a high kick then spin-kick combo, all of which Zenkichi blocked resolutely. He kept his guard up, which Iron Monk sought to capitalize on, sending out a three-hit strike combo which was also blocked.

And finally, the moment Zenkichi was waiting for: the grab. Iron Monk reached forward with both arms, seeking to grab Zenkichi’s torso. He dropped his guard as soon as he recognized the grab, punching Iron Monk in the nose, comboing it with a quick kick, and crouching to grab Iron Monk by the waist. He stood to full height, carrying the monk up, and threw him behind and over his shoulder, dropping his opponent into the water just behind them.

Making his way back to his Greatsword, Zenkichi dismissed the weapon with a sigh, looking over at Iron Monk as he climbed back onto the platform. “Hmmph. It is not what I would have hoped for, but you fought wisely, taking advantage of your surroundings. I believe I would have won if this battle did not use such rules as allowing a displacement, but these rules are what I agreed to. It is no matter. I will overcome, and show you the depths of my resolve!”

Zenkichi nodded, taking a deep breath. ”No argument there. Now, let me show you the depths of myresolve.” Summoning the Hero’s Sword, he closed his eyes and offered yet another silent apology to Konoe. Iron Monk’s eyes narrowed at Zenkichi pulling another new weapon, this one seeming to radiate heat off it, but he steeled his mind. He would fight, and fight honorably, no matter what his opponent pulled out.

As the third round started, Iron Monk started with his flying double kick, carrying him high towards Zenkichi. He dropped out of it just outside Zenkichi’s range, feinting with a jab before launching a high kick which caught Zenkichi on the chin. He didn’t just take the hit, though, cementing his footing and slashing at Iron Monk’s torso with his red-hot sword, earning a hiss of pain that forced the monk backwards. His mouth twitched as he nearly spoke out again, but his brow furrowed and he sighed, instead launching into his favored combo.

Zenkichi blocked, weathering the combo like a champ, but got caught off guard by the low kick Iron Monk added at the end, his lead leg sliding back. Iron Monk kicked again to capitalize on the weak stance, but Zenkichi thrust his weapon forward into the monk’s chest, forcing both back a step and giving them a chance to fix their own stances. They both took advantage of the momentary pause in aggression, but Zenkichi broke it first, stepping forward with a thrust that he combo’d into a slow swing. Iron Monk easily evaded, but when Zenkichi thrust the weapon again, it suddenly lengthened and smacked into his chest, prompting a grunt of surprise.

Iron Monk threw caution to the wind. He couldn’t let Zenkichi keep the tempo, so he launched forward in a corkscrew which caught Zenkichi, forcing him back. He combo’d into a hook, followed by a lunging thrust punch, which Zenkichi parried with his sword and countered with brutal a slash which erupted in flames, catching both fighters by surprise.



Iron Monk was launched a few feet by the blow, rolling to his feet, only to register the surprise in Zenkichi’s face, even as he returned to neutral. “To think I was only a stepping stone on your journey to growth. Hmmph. Prove to me that your way is the path of justice, then! There is still time in our fight, and I am not done yet!”

Zenkichi let out a huff of a laugh, taking a fencer’s pose with the Hero’s Sword. ”Fine by me.” He moved in with a pair of testing slashes which Iron Monk easily avoided, then swung low with a step forward, catching Iron Monk’s legs and tripping him up. He rolled to evade the follow-up overhead slash, then hummed when he saw that Zenkichi had taken the moment of escape to swap weapons, having returned to Ragnell, the blade he recalled could send blasts of energy with each swing.

Rather than block, he evaded each wave of energy that Ragnell sent forth, looking for the moment to strike. When Zenkichi went for another swing, he moved. A side-step was followed by a leaping jump kick, sending Zenkichi tumbling back, head over heels. As he tried to rise, Iron Monk charged, only to ‘tsk’ and dive to the side as he saw the glint of steel that heralded Zenkichi’s revolver. Only a single shot rang out, but Zenkichi had the time he needed to rise again, quickly replacing the single fired bullet as he turned to the monk, spinning his revolver as he drew the other.

Iron Monk was forced to run and dodge, evading a carefully-fired storm of bullets, catching at least three hits to his chest and gut. He groaned as the barrage ended, dropping to a knee and breathing heavily.

Zenkichi approached warily, but Iron Monk rose before he could get close, jumping into his floating double-kick attack. Zenkichi blocked, lashing out with a horizontal slash as Iron Monk landed, knocking him back. He rolled onto his hands and pushed up, taking a mobile stance before rushing forward, sending out his four-hit combo which Zenkichi blocked.

Zenkichi grabbed out with a single hand, catching Iron Monk on the shoulder, and smacked Ragnell's pommel into his nose, following it up with a descending cross slash. Iron Monk stumbled back as Zenkichi stepped forward and hefted Ragnell, blade aimed downward. He punched Zenkichi twice, once in the chest and once the face, but the swordsman tanked the blows with nary a flinch, causing Iron Monk’s face to fall in realization: superarmor. He backstepped a moment too late, an explosion emanating from the blade as it plunged into the raft below them, and he was launched across the arena yet again.

Even without a full charge, the Eruption was enough to finish off Iron Monk, and a gentle wind pushed against Zenkichi, edging him away from the fallen opponent, who lay on the ground, groaning in defeat. A flaming “K.O.” appeared, signaling the end of the match, and Zenkichi stood straight after dismissing his weapon, offering Iron Monk a bow of respect before leaving the arena.

---

---

While Lily and Adam fell back in search of relative safety, Sandalphon had other plans. Even with a much smaller team and safety net than normal, she would endeavor to support the frontliners from afar, which meant finding a new perch to shoot from. Still, it was not lost on her that Eve wasn’t linked to her Angel of Information network, so she wouldn’t be able to warp to the swordswoman’s side to heal her. Worse still, since these three didn’t consider her their leader, so thanks to Azure’s weakness she wouldn’t be able to snipe without a blue tile beneath her. Sandalphon quickly identified a spot to summon and dispel a Cerulean Mirage, creating a blue tile, then whirled around to set her sights on her abominable new foe.

By then, Eve’s fight against the Democrawler had already begun. She had jogged forward, then closed the distance in a blurry dash to kick things off with a flurry of deft slashes. At first, the Naytiba attempted to swat her with its humanoid arm, but Eve managed to parry all three flailing blows. It skittered backward slightly on its tentacled trunk, and Eve pressed her advantage with a flipping combination, only to receive a heavier clawed swipe in mid-air. She recovered from the blow as she landed, then brought up her guard to try and parry an overhead slam, but being slightly too early resulted in a normal block that induced chip damage.

It seemed like Eve’s sword, long and sharp-edged though it was, couldn’t stagger this thing with her normal attacks, so she needed to adapt to its rhythms. When the Democrawler wound up for a grab, the pommel of her sword lit up electric blue, prompting Eve to perform a lightspeed dash behind the creature to start off a new combo with a spin slash. Sandalphon joined in with a barrage of hexagun spell bullets to the Naytiba’s many faces. She ran a quick scan to get a sense of how much damage the Democrawler was taking so far, and as expected, it would be a tough nut to crack.

More than anything, Ramattra was more curious to see the creature’s capabilities so that the crew knew what they were dealing with, and being the most physically resistant of the group, he took it upon himself to act recklessly in an effort to force the monster to reveal its cards. Holstering his staff, Ramattra configured into Nemesis form and immediately consumed the last vial of Alchemist Cocktail he had before exhausting them. The Omnic charged head-on into the cowardly mass of grey flesh, grabbing any limb or exposed tendril of flesh to begin violently pulling it with his stacks of superhuman strength being given to him by the Cocktail, hoping to force the creature into a position where it felt threatened by the Omnic’s Temporary strength, making it react.

Sectonia herself started with her opening move as she did in most fights by summoning some Antlers to support the group by damage or soaking hits. This time just outright summoning 2 golden antlers to deal with the creature to assist Ramattra while Sectonia herself kept herself at mid range to keep the Democrawler within her heartstopper aura.

At almost twelve feet tall, the Democrawler was no slouch when it came to strength, but with the extra chemical stimulants coursing through his systems, Ramattra’s grip on its arm and one tentacle did not relent. Its many tormented faces howled as it struggled for a moment in futility, before the Naytiba began to batter its attacker with one brutal, heavy headbutt after another. Eve jumped in to lend Ramattra a hand, expending Beta Energy to launch a radiant sword thrust. After the first blow, she stabbed three more times with the strength and regularity of a jackhammer. That final hit staggered it, leaving it at Ramattra’s mercy.

Before he could get enough of a grip to throw it down or rip something off, however, the monster’s halo created a downward, ring-shaped pulse around it. The Naytiba vanished, reappearing at the other side of the room as its halo rose up again from the floor. Then the Democrawler reached into its undercarriage with its arm, dug around amidst the cybernetic augmentations, and yanked out a big organic scimitar with nasty barbs alight with a teal glow. As Sandalphon zeroed in on its new position to take advantage of the clear shot, sparks of cosmic light went off within the ring of its halo. After a brief moment, miniature shooting stars went flying at the Democrawlers’ enemies, each arcing through the air to hunt down its target.

Ramattra tumbled to the ground at the sudden teleportation of the Alpha Naytiba, quickly returning to his feet and brushing himself off as he now stood in Omnic Form, having depleted his reserves of Cocktail, he was now physically exhausted, a sensation he had never been familiar with because of his inorganic nature. But with the fight raging on, he couldn’t let up easily.

Sectonia conjured her Chaos Shield to block the projectiles coming for her, while also blocking any projectiles for anyone who used Sectonia as cover for the moment. She did this so that she could concentrate on charging up a reality shatter on this creature that moved very, very little besides the teleporting to cause some significant damage to it.

“Oh good, you’ve brought your own defenses. Then…” Ramattra traced the arc of the stars and was able to make a quick trajectory in his head of which projectile could hit who, and where they were coming from. There was no possible way to protect every teammate in his shield, however, with Eve nearby in the fray, a quick shout for cover was his best bet. “Quick! To me, my friend.”

The Omnic deployed a barrier perpendicular to the barrage of stars and whoever would huddle behind the safety of his shield. While the beast was exposed during its attack, he would also hurl a Vortex at the feet of the Democrawler, dragging its gravity to the floor.

Adam, alongside Lily, was far enough from the fight to not be a target for the Democrawler, but Eve sprinted to Ramattra’s side. Her own ability to dodge -if not just to strafe faster than the stars could home- would probably have been enough, but it never hurt to be sure. Sandalphon, meanwhile, did not want to use up a warp or lose her position, but with no defensive abilities she had little choice. Sectonia was near enough to use as cover, but not close enough to run to, so she needed to get creative. The archangel used Vault to spring upward, then engaged Heavensent to slow her fall. From there she shot out ergo strings from her left-hand fingertips, attaching to a machine by Sectonia, then pulled herself over. Her makeshift grapple got her away from the Democrawler’s stars, with the rest chipping away at the wasp queen’s Chaos Shield.

Of course, the Naytiba did not sit idle. It let out a multitudinous shriek as it raised its strange sword, before teleporting via its halo once more. It reappeared in front of Eve and Ramattra, which gave them only a split second to react before the blade crashed down in a blast of teal sparks.

Eve was no stranger to split-second decision making, though. She nimbly flipped to the side just in the nick of time, with the world seeming to slow down to her as her WB pump rate spiked. Her monofilament blade shone as she dealt the monster a biting repartee . That charged up enough Burst energy for red power to suffuse her, followed by a windmill slash that flipped her upside down as the Democrawler stumbled backward, deep furrows carved across its many faces. With a howl, it raised its a tentacle to grapple her, which prompted a purple glow from her sword’s hilt. Eve cried out as she performed a backward flip kick, and where she struck, a bulbous yellow vulnerability bulged out from between the faces. “Shoot it!” she yelled, summoning Adam’s drone to her side to convert into firing mode.

By then, Sandalphon had stepped out from behind Sectonia and created another blue tile, just in time to take aim. She hammered the weak point with sniper shots, though she paced herself so as to not attract too much attention–having the Democrawler teleport to her was the last thing she needed. Once this window closed, she planned to attach ergo strings to Ramattra to lend him her aid.

Ramattra held his staff tightly as it vibrated from the nanites that swarmed from its tip toward the weak spot as well. The precision of his staff made up for the lack of “oomph” behind the initial attack. The Omnic’s Nemesis form was often where most of his power was; however, the streamlined attack pressure pointed the weak spot much harder. His tricks were limited, since he had only recently been freed from Galeem.

While it took her a bit to charge, the Democrawler was in a good spot as it teleported again to engage with Eve and Ramattra. With a snap of Sectonia’s fingers firing off the spark of void energy, the area around the Democrawler cracked and split as reality around it shattered like glass. This did no damage to Eve or Ramattra, but they too would be blinded by the initial pitch darkness. This darkness would clear soon though, leaving a vague sketch outline of the area that had been shattered that would have its color and detail slowly restored as reality stitched itself back together.

The Reality Shatter was new to Sandalphon, and over the course of her years as a combat coordinator in the World of Light, the number one thing she always tried to avoid was friendly fire. When Eve and Ramattra disappeared into the abyssal rift in the middle of their assault, the archangel feared the worst. With stress marks in her eyes, she acted fast, casting ergo strings into the stygian well in the dim hope that she might latch onto Ramattra and pull him to safety. To her surprise, the desperate ploy actually worked, as a moment later she yanked the omnic from the danger zone. Even more to her surprise, she reeled in Eve alongside him, the swordswoman attached to two of her strings. Sandalphon stared for a brief moment as her pupils became loading rings, using her assumption that the ergo strings could only attach to machines to quickly reach a likely conclusion. Without a word, she dispelled the ergo strings to minimize her allies confusion; her team had bigger fish to fry.

When Sandalphon could actually make out the Democrawler in the wake of Sectonia’s magic, she realized that the Reality Shatter hadn’t been purely visual. The Naytiba bore extreme damage, its body frayed and unstable as if thrown into a cosmic centrifuge. That strange, teal halo still glimmered above its head, though, and when the Democrawler held up its broken sword, its halo expanded massively, becoming countless rings revolving in and around one another. Miniature comets began to rise from the floor beneath all four opponents, each shooting upward for a brief window before detonating in a cylinder of plasma, with another comet appearing only a second after the first. Then, as this chaos unfolded around the Democrawler, the little star in the center of its halo flared, and lasers of teal plasma blasted out to sweep across the Core Chamber in a dazzling and deadly light show. This, Sandalphon realized as she got moving, must be the Naytiba’s last resort.

In a sudden last-minute move of thinking, Ramattra activated his transformation into Nemesis Form, now hulking over the crew as he grabbed whoever was closest standing to him with his mountain-moving strength. A purple ray of armor coated the Omnic, his nanites fusing a protective barrier against his blocking formation as he protected any allies he could from the maelstrom of projectiles in a clutching embrace.

With how hazardous the battlefield had become, there was little time to strategize. Ramattra hoped by taking the bulk of the attack, he could allow his teammates a moment to collect themselves as explosions wavered his blocking formation around them. His allies were safe for now, but the longer he stayed in harms way, the more damage he would need to sustain. “Let’s hope this attack gives out! Otherwise, we need to end this now!”

By now his ultimate ability was ready. Like a beast now only restrained by its leash, the Omnic surged with energy and power. “I’m ready to unleash Annihilation. I need only to close the distance.”

Luckily, that was something Sandalphon could help with. She nodded, her expression serious. “Affirmative. Sending you in three…”

“I’ll follow behind!” Eve added.

When her count reached zero, the archangel performed a whipping motion with her ergo strings, executive a forced move that launched Ramattra toward the Democrawler. He would need to make an effort himself, as well as survive the starlight bombardment in his way, but the extra burst of movement would help him get close. True to her word, Eve dashed along behind him, using the omnic as mobile cover. Even when the Democrawler’s strange energy got around Ramattra’s defense, the swordswoman was ready with a quick dodge. Now unprotected, Sandalphon took cover as best she could, ready to cast a healing miracle before it was too late.

Ramattra used the free momentum from Sandaphlon’s Ergo String whip shot to rapidly configure himself back into Nemesis Form, the titanic Omnic now winding up a nasty right hook as his mechanical steps hardened the launch off further. The connection between metal and twisted flesh reverberated throughout the entire space center as the devastating blow not only held so much force it knocked the large abomination back a meter or two.

While the beast was winded, it attempted to flail its tentacle-like arm to crush Ramattra, only for the Omnic to angrily parry the forceful blow with a green absorbing energy from his Buckler. Immediately using the stored kinetic energy, he pointed toward the ground to release a powerful wave that only pushed the beast backward further, comboing into Ramattra’s Ultimate ability.

The purple glint surrounding Ramattra exploded into a violent haze, causing the nanites to harm the creature as it stood too close to the Omnic, who charged the Democrawler immediately to begin pummeling its disgusting faces with blistering force behind each punch. His allies were safe within the radius, unlike the monster; however, it seemed that Ram was in a blind fury. “Ha! Look at what happens when humanity tries to play god!”

Eve, seeing Ramattra in a new and dangerous light, decided to end things immediately. “I’ll finish this!” In a flash of golden light she assumed a new outfit of black and yellow, a single metallic wing stretching out from her back as a futuristic nodachi replaced her saber. Quickly circling around, Eve launched herself through the Naytiba’s halo in a corkscrew dive into the top of its mass, then ended with a single great slash to put the monster out of its misery. She flipped backward, landed, then canceled Tachy Mode to return to normal as the Democrawler’s body began to crumble to ash under Ramattra’s weight.

While meandering around post pool victory, Team Seekers of Fight found themselves with a somewhat run down parking lot sporting six vehicles all sitting there entirely innocent looking to the eyes at first. But just to the eyes. To Ammy’s nose, they smelled of blight and decay of a kind far more foul than that of regular oil powered vehicles (things she had encountered very rarely, but had context of from her time in the dead zone.

Two yokai sat outside the lot certainly weren't fooled either, the skeleton driven Oboroguruma and the cute little Oh Wheel both heckling the machines as “posers!” and “hacks” for being “no good style stealers!”

Still, despite this, to the eye the cop car, swat van, four by four, taxi cab, hot rod and dinky one seater all looked normal. Until they laid their eyes on the seekers. Because eyes they had, be they in the headlights or more fleshy in nature, and when they saw fresh meat, engines were gunned, lights flared, and the motorcar massacre was on.

Right out the gate, the little one seater revealed a biting bumper and four staring eyes which all locked onto Terry as it came rushing at him. It was joined by the snarling form of the hotrod who’s front grill opened wide, forming into venom dripping fangs, which rushed Captain Falcon. Finally, the four by four upped the ante in grotesquery as it reared up and tried to slam down its fleshy underbelly on top of Amataretsu.

Finally, the wolf paused time, drew two lines, and then returned time at a slowed pace that gave her enough to unload a hail of divine beads into the underbelly of the four by four before she lurched out of the way and avoided being crushed beneath it.

The cars roared on, and behind them came more machines from hell. The taxi revealed human teeth from which it vomited up a bouncing oil barrel. The copcar’s former passengers oozed out of it dogs barking hand hauling the machine towards the seekers while the cop fired a fuselage of pistol, shotgun and taser rounds at the seekers. Finally the SWAT van reversed towards them, back opening up to reveal a massive suffering face, which in turn opened it’s maw to reveal three formerly human tongues that attacked with trungeon, shotgun and teeth.

”Whoa!” Cap yelped as he instinctively put his arms up to block the rushing hotrod. The beat up vehicle slammed him but he managed to at least hold his footing. And thankfully he took no damage because of his Mint Condition boon kicking in. With that boon in mind, the bounty hunter figured it would be a good idea to make the most of it.

”Falcon PUNCH!” He barked out, using his brief seconds of invincibility to wind up the technique so he could unleash the explosive punch on the hotrod when it made its next pass at him.

“Yo, what the fuck!?”

Just when he thought he could take a break from the crowd of fighters chanting ‘this is ass’ following their rather cluttered first match, Terry and his partners had to deal with what appeared to be an army of possessed cars that’d been abandoned there for obvious reasons. Rumors had it that these were supposed to be the cars used for the Bonus Game routinely held by the Street Fighter Dojo if one was looking forward to testing their strength and earning some fresh money in the process.

However, little did their buyer realize, these cars were no ordinary vehicles, as they’d been infused with the spirits of the deceased by whoever was manufacturing them. Initially, nobody from the Street Fighter Dojo noticed it until the cars began to show signs of manifestation, and in the process, injured tens of fighters taking on the challenge. As to who produced the cars and the exact location they were imported from remained a mystery. Worse now that nobody had ever told Terry where all these cars were dumped until he and his team came across a rather secluded corner of the Pools, just a few feet across from the prior makeshift stage.

God, I wish I knew there were monsters hiding here. We’re so cooked!

There was no time to muse, he also thought. As the little one seater with a mouth-like bumper and two frightening pairs of eyes lunged in, Terry narrowly sidestepped out of harm’s way, slamming the duffle bag in his grip away. His pet monkey, Ukee, was still perching and holding onto the crown of his head, his miniscule fingers squeezing the red fabric of his dampened cap.

“Just hold tight, Ukee!”

BONK!

“Ouch!”

Then, a rather sizable oil drum knocked Terry by the temple, close to stunning him on sight. He wobbled, his upright form faltering as he placed a hand over his hammered temple. If it wasn’t for Ukee smacking his tail against Terry’s face repeatedly, it might’ve taken a while until he completely regathered himself. Once his dizziness was cleared, he shook his head, then glanced over the source of the flinging oil barrel, noticing that it came from an uncanny taxi cab with sharp, eerie teeth.

“Shit…”

The sight surprised Terry for a moment, his lips reflexively parting, though before he could truly retaliate, the taxi cab had—once again—spilled rounds after rounds of oil barrels in his direction, which he managed to block with his guarding forearms. Ukee, too, aided Terry in his effort, as he caught one of the barrels in mid-air and hurled the barrel back to its sender. The barrel managed to connect with a small thud, hitting the roof sign perching atop her pale yellow head. The impact knocked the cab back, infuriating her in the process.

“Uh–oh!”

Gently, Terry moved his forearms away, trying to get a better picture of his furious opponent. Grunting and crackling, the taxi cab had slightly stood out of the ground, her pair of back wheels propping her entire weight. With one of her dangling front wheels, she summoned and hurled a smaller, spiky wheel in the brawny blonde’s direction, prompting him to—thankfully—leap to his side in reflexive anticipation. The taxi cab didn’t drop herself just yet. As she continued to stand, she fired a pair of lightning beams out of her eyes, aiming them at Terry. Fortunately, in a blur of red, yellow, and blue, the three-time KOF champion had already charged himself towards the monstrous cab, not only avoiding the firing beams, but also retaliating with a ki-fueled shoulder tackle.

“POWER CHARGE!!”

THUMP!

The collision between hardening flesh and metallic underside shook the cab’s entire frame, shoving her dozens of feet to the back. Terry continued to charge forth, using the cab’s upper side as a shield to foil and deflect the bullets fired by an armed, perhaps zombified human puppeteered by the reversed SWAT van. Eventually, he managed to corner the van to the store’s wall behind, leaving a broad fracture across its solid surface.

”Gen’ei Kyaku!” Came Falcon’s voice nearby as his barrage of kicks battered the hotrod. With the car already beaten up at the start of the fight it was pretty hard to discern just how much damage Cap’s punches and kicks were doing to it. The only measuring stick he really had was his other boon from Hephaestus that had rarely come up until now - his Molten Touch.

As Captain Falcon struck at the battered hotrod, the heat from his fists burned into its metallic chassis, inevitably causing armor damage to it. So that let the bounty hunter know that as long as he kept going at it, his Molten Touch would eventually break the car’s body down and hopefully to the point of immobility.

But not quite yet as the hotrod managed to reverse itself away from Falcon’s flurry of strikes and rev up for another charging pass. When it gunned the engine and surged forward, Cap crouched low and then launched upward for a leap to avoid the incoming ram. Then, while midair… ”Falcon Kick!” This dropped the Captain back down onto the hotrod like a flaming meteor. The kick itself wasn’t super strong, but it landed Cap on the roof of the hotrod, and allowed him to beat down on it from above.

At this point the hotrod was thrashing like some kind of bull at a rodeo. It erratically hit the gas and the breaks, attempting to swerve about and throw its attacker off the roof. But it was to little avail as Captain Falcon’s Molten Touch allowed his fists to break down the car’s body further and further until the hotrod was halfway to being a smoldering heap.

THWACK!

CRACK!

The van was sandwiched between the cab and the wall, the vehicles’ sturdy frames squashed and wrecked. When Terry distanced himself, he found that the cab’s eyes had shown a comical pair of cross symbols, as if signifying that the trapped, tormented spirit had left the once inanimate vehicle.

“Whew… That should do… I guess?” Terry told himself, then shrugged and raised a pair of doubtful hands, worried that he might’ve just claimed the lives of two vehicles.

”Okay… demon-possessed cars were certainly not on my bingo card for today.” Falcon said, brushing himself off after it became clear that the hotrod he was fighting was no longer going to move.

“I know right?” Terry glanced sidelong over Cap, noticing his seemingly puzzled reaction. He could only guess that the bounty hunter was more confused as to what just happened than the fact that he, too, had freed a caged spirit out of their weather-beaten vessel.

The three crushed cars shuddered and groaned, and then one by one burst to ash, leaving the spirits behind. That left three more still standing.

SHUNK!

Or rather it left two, as Amaterasu's invisible blade cleaved through the two seater, bisecting the little machine and briefly revealing a spill of guts before it too turned to ash.

The four by four wasn’t looking too good either, large gashes in its frame denoting where the divine wolf’s blade had bit into it. The cop car meanwhile was missing a few bites of its own, as several of the mutant dogs fused to it had been put to rest, bodies sundered, heads split from necks.

Still those that had survived tried to harry the wolf, who darted too and fro even as she backed away, endeavoring to evade both them and the aim of the cop’s quartet of the weapons.

She’d been regularly pausing the world just to keep track of the other cars, and doing so saved her hide now as she had time to assess the incoming four by four, and the likely aim of the cop before making a decision. She broke away, charging towards the four by four. She slowed her weaving, making herself a nice juicy target, and then at just the right moment hurled herself to the side, leaving gunfire to hammer into the four by four. It wasn’t that which she was after, but the taser round left hanging in the air when she paused the world, lighting tingling at its tips.

Lighting which the goddess stole.

Two lines were drawn, arching from that low voltage shot, replicating its power and driving it to strike into the pair of vehicles, briefly paralyzing them and preventing them from diverting course.

A moment later the two machines smashed into each other in a ghastly collision of steel and viscera, flesh and metal becoming intertwined in a heaping mess. Still, they didn’t fall to that, but did fall as the wolf rushed in and skewered the torso of the cop with her blade, before backfliping, drawing the sword from its ashing corpse, and then slamming it right through the front of the hood into where she knew the hidden head of the four by four lingered.

She finished just a few moments after the two brawlers finished their own machines, landing gracefully amid the ashes of the fallen.

“Ouch…”

When Terry was about to help, it appeared that Amaterasu, too, had eliminated the last two vehicles in her path. He jerked his shoulders up at the sight and scrunched his face, disgusted at the sight of flesh meeting steel, as well as the zombified cop skewered like a blood-soaked shish kebab. Once again, he was reminded of the reason why he’d never bothered himself to sign up for the Mortal Kombat tournament. If anything, grotesque sights similar to this were that reason, as he couldn’t stand having to see others getting tormented and executed live, let alone having to be the one performing the execution. Ironic because… didn’t he just do the same stuff to the prior cab and SWAT van? In a cosmic sort of thing, indeed.

As he took a deep, suppressed breath, Terry unfurled his curled hands, easing the tension in his muscles. He readjusted the cap worn over his golden head, noticing that Ukee was still clawing and holding onto its gaudy red crown when he glanced up, his miniscule fingers slightly loosening. Carefully, the little monkey hopped out of the cap’s crown to perch on his human bestie’s shoulder, only to leap forth when Terry offered him his hand. He now let Ukee perch atop the back of his hand.

“Ukee! Are you okay?” Terry asked with a smile, his voice gentle. The monkey only screeched happily, as he caressed him by the crown of his head, his gloved palm running through the brown fur. The brawny blonde then looked ahead of him, his sky-blue eyes bouncing between both of his partners. “Alright, you guys, that was a great fight, but… what now?”

Deep down, Terry was grateful to see his partners still in one piece, having defeated the monstrosity that was the living, breathing cars from Hell. There were only six of them when they first came around, and they’d eliminated all six of them. While he didn’t know the exact amount of cars being dumped by the Street Fighter Dojo, there couldn’t be more than just six, could it? No. He was bloody wrong! From behind him, a hand-like wheel seemed to be nudging his shoulder, as if inviting him to look behind. He did, eventually, do so and even turned around, only to find a blue-and-red racing car standing right in front of him, assuming a rather unorthodox fighting stance.

“What the—!?”

Alongside the Hornet car was another one of its kind sporting a mostly red-and-yellow paint job, followed by a frightening devil-shaped car decked with a licensed plate that oddly displayed the word ‘Hell’ in all caps, instead of the traditional combination of letters and numbers. One could only guess that they might’ve just traveled somewhere outside of the parking lot before returning to find their fellows turning into nothing more than mere ashes. Furious at the sight, the blue-and-red Hornet roared its engine, still standing on its pair of rear wheels. Gradually, it dropped its entire weight onto its human opponent, intending to trap him beneath its steely underside.

THUD!

Gusts were blown around the wheels, as they were slammed against the paved ground. Much to its chagrin, however…

“Missed!”

…Terry had successfully evaded, rolling away almost automatically. As he curled his entire frame, he kept Ukee close to his torso, securely wrapping him around his muscular arms. Halting on his knee, the three-time KOF champion settled his monkey friend down, patting his head.

“It’s okay, buddy. You’re safe now,” he told Ukee, eliciting a grateful snicker from the latter. When he darted his gaze back ahead, the roaring Hornet had stood on its rear wheels once again, craning its front wheels as if clenching a pair of imaginary fists. The brawny blonde stood out of his kneeling position, his ready stance also assumed.

“Ukee, promise me you’ll do me one favour, okay?” he questioned, in which Ukee nodded in reciprocation. “Just step back and save yourself. I’ll take care of this wheeled freak.”

As much as he wanted to help, Ukee did as his human bestie told him, taking a couple of steps back to give Terry some space. Both the man and the car circled and gauged each other up, trying to get into each other’s head (if the Hornet had any). While the Hornets were nowhere near as horrifying as any of the cars they’d faced prior, he thought they were still every bit as dangerous as any of the living vehicles were, considering they seemed to know a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat like any other Esakans did. As the blue-and-red racing car hurled its side forth, Terry spread his arms out for a few seconds before closing the distance with a swift dash, his flaring knuckles striking forth.

“BURN KNUCKLE!!”

While Terry was occupied, both the red-and-yellow Hornet and Hellride drove themselves towards Cap and Amaterasu at full speed, ready to engage themselves in a scuffle.

As the Hellride got closer, it became quite clear what these machines had been doing rampaging around, namely gathering up people and stuffing them inside the hellride. The mass of hostages/victims naturally gave Amatarasu pause. The sight of a familiar burly snowman and a traditional dress college student trying to do battle with the vehicles interior gave her a sense of both dread and hope.

The hellride had picked some stubborn meals, that was for sure, but the regular joes were very much getting in the way of the fighters’ attempts to get them all out of this jam. They’d need outside help.

Unfortunately, the hellride wanted them inside alongside them, which is why it flared its headlights as it approached attempting to blind them, before opening its maw wide and trying to swallow them whole.

The divine wolf lost her mundane sight to the machine, but quickly used her ability to paint with her celestial brush to overcome this. Every heartbeat she’d pause time and view the world from a disembodied view, and step by stuttering step she timed a grand leap to launch into the air, and then brought her sun disk down to parry the machine’s blighted fangs as it tried to snap her out of the air.

She landed on the roof of the hellride with a stumbling step, only for the red-and-yellow car to leap up onto its hind wheels and punch her clean off the roof with one of its tires. That, she had not at all seen coming.

Red-and-yellow went after the wolf, while the hellride drifted to the side, rubber literally burning, and then roared towards the Captain to try and devour him whole instead.

Falcon was waiting and ready for it. The bounty hunter didn’t dodge, not this time. Instead the man planted his boots and wound up his electrified fist yet again. ”Falcon…!” With a lunging step forward, the F-Zero Pilot launched his explosive fist into the oncoming Hellride’s hood.

”PUUUUUNCH!”

Of course, Cap wasn’t conceited enough to think he could take out the machine in just one blow, even one as strong as his iconic Falcon Punch. And he was right, too. His Falcon Punch had stopped the Hellride from devouring him, but the machine looked like it was still burning for a fight. In fact it looked like it mostly shrugged off the flames of the Falcon Punch, suffering only from the raw impact of the punch instead. That was enough of a hint for the Captain that this would be a bit tougher than the Hotrod earlier had been.

He charged and began pummeling the seemingly demonic car with his fists and legs. Thankfully Falcon was more agile at maneuvering himself and could avoid being devoured. On the other hand, the Hellride could just fire up its engines and take swipes at Falcon by drifting laps around him. But the more Cap’s made contact with Hellride, the more he started to notice something peculiar. The machine’s body appeared to be suffering more degradation from being struck by Falcon’s Molten Touch than Hotrod before it. Was this hellish car weak against armor damage? He also noticed that the car was a lot more vulnerable to lightning.

That was what gave Captain Falcon his strategy. He shifted gears, focusing on infusing his punches with lightning rather than the usual fire. This unfortunately prevented him from being able to rely on very many of Robert’s techniques as most of them were fire elemental. Instead Cap had to keep this more strictly as a combo beatdown. During one of the Hellride’s passes he managed to jump onto its roof and beat down relentlessly on its roof. By this point the degradation to its armor from Molten Touch was beginning to slow the vehicle down.

This prompted Cap to hop back to the ground and barrage the car with a ”Gen’ei Kyaku!” The flurry of kicks then led into Cap flashing blue as he consumed a Power Gauge stock and unleashed ”Ryuuko Ranbu!” After the flash of blue he lunged for the Hellride and let loose a powered up beatdown of lighting infused fists that he ended with a powerful uppercut that sent Cap flying upward. That, at least, appeared to be enough to finally put down Hellride.

Though more than a little rattled, the unwilling passengers were freed by this beatdown, spilling out onto the ground in an ungainly pile of bodies. It was something of a miracle that Galeem’s influence hadn't forced them into fighting each other or the captain from all the jossling, but given the confusion of being crammed in there, it seemed none had been able to tell who was to blame for their various non-hellcar inflicted injuries.

They were still going to need help however.

Amaterasu would have been happy to give it, just as soon as she finished with the car she herself was fighting. The wolf had stolen both fire and lightning from the captain while he was beating down the hell car, and her own vehicular foe was in an utter state as a result. All that was needed was one last combo to finish the job.

Dodging out of the way of a swung tire, the wolf emptied a volley of divine beads into the chassis of the upright standing car to stagger it, before leaping up and using her sun disk to smash it down onto four wheels where it belonged. She then kept hammering it with the sun disk, smashing the bludgeon down over and over as it tried to rise once more. Once sufficiently beat down, she grabbed her sword in her jaw, rose up on her hind legs, and delivered an overhead cleave into the machine, cleaving the oversized blade into the hood and windscreen of the car. She then ripped the blade free, before pausing the world, drawing a slash through her existing blade wound, and with it finished the cut, bisecting the machine.

That just left Terry to finish the job.

THWACK!

A burst of hit spark erupted as Terry’s Burning Knuckle collided with the Hornet’s charging shoulder, quickly separating them from one another. From then on, the two closed the distance and exchanged physical attacks, limbs meeting wheels. At one point, Terry even managed to deliver a series of smooth, consecutive body blows onto the blue-and-red’s steely underside, followed by a swifter sequence of attacks consisted of alternating fists and a subsequent, flying backhanded flail.

KA–POW!

“Hyahh–!!” Terry bellowed, as each of his flails seamlessly connected. “Eat this! You like that!?”

The Hornet was pushed a couple of feet back, its blue roof stumbling across the verdant garbage container behind.

THUD!

The racing car bounced forth, the collision forming craters across the garbage container and the car’s blue roof respectively. It finally settled down on both pairs of wheels like a normal car would, its blue hood nearly yanking itself out of its position. As he landed on both feet, Terry wasted no chance and dashed forth, extending a leg for a charging Big Boot.

“Hah!”

WHAM!

The Big Boot connected… didn’t it? Oh, you thought it did. When the boot was only inches away from its front, the Hornet immediately sprung up, catching the poor Terry off guard with a stiff right hook. Wheel meeting flesh, the right hook ran across the brawny blonde’s cheek, launching him backwards and leaving a tire-shaped bruise across his cheek.

“Gwahhh–!!”

THUMP!

“Agh!!”

Terry’s back collided with the wall behind, a concoction of blood and saliva jolting out of his gasping mouth. The collision was so strong it broadened the fracture that was caused upon its frame by the prior sandwiched vehicles, echoing audible noises. The former KOF champion landed on his front, his baseball cap flying out of his head. He carefully drew himself up on all fours, his breath a bit heavier than usual.

Unfortunately, before he could truly stand out of his lowered form, the approaching Hornet had caught and lifted his gallant frame out of the ground, both of its front wheels tight around both sides of his neck. The blue-and-red racing car settled the trapped Terry down on both of his boots, then began reeling its front wheels around his shoulders, attempting to mill every fiber of his muscles. Fortunately, before the Hornet could proceed to flatten Terry further…

SWOOSH!

KNOCK!

“HADOUKEN!!”

Something had poked its roof from behind—a sort of blueish fireball resembling a pair of glued clawing hands shoving out. Distracted, the Hornet released its tight, reeling grip on Terry’s neck and shoulders, turning against his opponent to find that its ambusher was none other than…

“Ken??”

Clad in sleeveless red gi and a pair of padded, sparring gloves, the fellow blue-eyed blonde smirked at both the gassed Terry and the distracted Hornet, fists clenched and fighting stance assumed.

“Talk about old times, Terry,” Ken told the younger blonde, then stopped hopping in place, only to taunt the Hornet with a waving, beckoning finger. “C’mon! Let’s turn up the heat!”

Forming an imaginary frowning face at the taunt, the blue-roofed Hornet revved and hurled itself in Ken’s direction, answering his challenge with a slamming front wheel to the face. Thankfully, before the flailing tire could flatten his visage, Ken had already tackled it, his entire frame flickering blue as his parrying wrist met its running wheel. The owner of Street Fighter Dojo went on to bombard the rowdy car with swift flails and kicks, quickly filling up his power gauge. Once activated…

“Ikuze!”

…a flickering blue light emerged around his leading fist, allowing him to execute his Super Art. Lunging in, Ken performed a series of flying uppercuts onto the Hornet, concluding the string of devastating attacks with a fiery Shoryuken that was sure to set his opponent on fire.

“SHORYUREPPA!!!”

The Shoryureppa didn’t only shroud the Hornet in flames, but also sent it hurling towards the recovering younger blonde.

“Terry!”

Terry, with a smirk on his face, hardened his fist and activated the newly obtained gauge stock in his possession, closing the distance between himself and the descending Hornet with a dash.

“Beat up!”

Executing the Rising Beat, the three-time KOF champion began by bombarding his opponent with a series of physical attacks consisting of an elbow thrust, an uppercut, and kicks of varying degrees of severity before drawing himself back to fire an energy explosion through his extending knuckles, his free hand supporting the leading arm.

KA–BOOM!

“MAX POWER!!!”

Just like that, Terry devastated the Hornet with his desperation move, causing both its blue roof and hood to fling out of their respective positions. The Hornet landed harshly, but as soon as it touched the ground…

POP!

…it dissipated and reduced into ashes, the spirit caged within ascending towards the spirit realm to join their fellows. Ken, showing little remorse to the now destroyed inanimate vehicle, struck a V-sign forth with two of his fingers, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yay!”

As for Terry, he only shouted “good luck!” and flexed his muscular arm a bit, hesitantly smiling and winking. Around the same time, Ukee began climbing his back like a wall, eventually perching on his shoulder. The monkey placed his bestie’s cap back around his golden head, then in a celebratory fashion, performed a couple of backflips, much to Terry’s amusement. While Terry caressed Ukee’s head, Ken approached, his bare strides drawing closely.

“Ah… Sorry about the inconvenience,” Ken apologized, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d always wanted to clean up the mess, but—”

“Hey, it’s cool! Glad to help,” Terry disrupted, smiling and placing a reassuring hand atop the older blonde’s shoulder. He took a moment to look behind him, slightly flinching at the sight of ashes scattering around the abandoned parking lot. “But, jeez… This doesn’t look too nice. What’s the deal with all those possessed cars, anyway? You bought the wrong ones?”

“Well, you can say that again,” Ken confirmed, his expression turning wry at the sight. “Most importantly, I’d been scammed to buy those cars for our little, daily Bonus Game back at the dojo. That Spamton scum… I swear, the next time we meet again…” He stifled his mouth, curling and clenching his hand into a fist.

“Hey, man, take it easy, alright? It happens,” Terry reassured, knowing damn well that this wasn’t the first time his friend had been scammed by a questionable businessman. “What matters now is that we’ve cleaned up the mess. And, I guess, setting those trapped ghosts free…”

“I think so…” Then, about the same time Cap and Amaterasu finished their fights, Ken glanced over them past Terry’s shoulder, pointing a finger at the two. “Are those your new teammates?”

“Hmm? Oh!” With his eyes, Terry followed where Ken was pointing at, confirming his assumption with a nod. “Those two? Yeah, that’s my brand new team, alright. They’re Captain Falcon and Ammy. We just had our first match a while back.”

“Ah…” Ken simply answered, arching his eyebrows and slightly drawing his head back. Then, he was reminded of what happened to Terry’s previous team prior to this year’s tournament, his softened expression a hint of sympathy. “I’m… sorry about your previous team. Wish Chun and I could’ve helped better.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Terry reassured with a nod, then clenched his lips, his heart aching at the mention of his prior team despite the smile on his face. “You’ve done your best. I’ll probably find them one way or another. Besides, my new team ain’t that shabby, either. If you saw our match, dude, I tell ya what, these peeps are radical! They look like they’ve been fighting their whole lives.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Ken agreed with a grin, nodding his head. “Oh, and by the way…” He revealed a sizable pouch from beneath his gi, handing it to Terry. “Here, for all three of you. I know you’re gonna need this the most. There are 45,000 zennies inside that pouch. Just consider this my way of repaying you for helping me through those tough times.”

“Hey, don’t bother yourself like that, Kenny boy,” Terry told Ken with a hearty snicker, hesitating for a moment before eventually taking the pouch in the latter’s grip. “You’re my close bud, y’know. A wise man once told me that a friend’s gotta look after a friend, won’t you agree?”

“I can’t agree more,” Ken reciprocated with a smirk, close to snickering. “Well, then, until next time. Wish you and your team the best of luck!” He then held out his knuckles towards Terry, in which the latter reciprocated by nudging them with his own. A knocking noise was heard.

“Thanks, Ken! Can say the same about you,” Terry said. “Just let the Street Fighter guys know that I said ‘hi,’ will ya? It was fun competin’ for the World Warrior tournament back then.”

“Oh, you bet!” Ken reassured, his smile widening. “I’ll see you around, Terry. Whenever that is…”

As Ken parted ways, Terry gave him a big waving hand before turning to face his partners, his hand still holding the pouch given to him. Perhaps, the older blonde was right, after all. For some reason, he seemed to know that Terry had just run out of money.

“Nice work, team! A friend of mine just gave us a ton of money for cleaning up the mess,” Terry told both Cap and Amaterasu, gesturing at the pouch in his hand. “It’s 45,000 zennies total, so, um… should we just split the prize now or are we gonna use some of it for lunch?”

Having just finished help sort out the pile of the hell ride’s unwilling passengers (who were, fortunately, tough enough that they could either walk it off or taken to a healer by those who could) visibly wagged her tail at the thought of lunch before stilling that impulse. Her vote was clear, and there was little reason for anyone else to go against it. It wasn’t like she’d have an easy time paying her own tab after all.

First things first, however, the wolf did a quick run around to gather up all the vehicular spirits. They weren't going to be her first foray into fusion, that was for sure, but they could still find some use for them.

With one quick leap from the wooden stage to the stone lip that circled the waters of the Pools, Pit and his partner were back on more solid ground. Since the early matches didn't draw many spectators once those that had been curiously lingering around dispersed it left only Bowser Jr., Rika, and Zeus alone to receive the victorious pair. Ashrah nodded to them while Pit grinned at all three, holding his palm up for a high five.

"Easy peasy," he boasted.

The god raised a gauntlet and and wiggled the fingers on it, electricity sparking between them as he gave an ‘are you sure about that grin’ only to laugh as Rika took Pit up on the offer with her own gauntlet, the oversized metal hand dwarfing the angel’s much daintier one. Jr joined in on the merriment with a laugh of his own, and then gave his sister a thumbs up and a ”you’re fine” when she got confused about the laughter.

Although after a moment Pit’s smile became sort of sheepish as he turned to Junior. "I definitely wouldn't mind some healing, though? That gold wind isn't as much of a pick-me-up as it looks."

”Wait for real it didn’t fix you up? Yeesh. I mean what if you’d actually been left messed up for the next fight that’d be so lame” Jr replied as he carefully moved clawed toes under his paint brush that had been resting on the ground, before kicking it up and catching it. Then with a ”Cure!” the angel was left right as rain once more. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of times as though making sure of it before chirping a 'thank you.' To be honest he wasn't sure if the Heavenly Principles had actually healed the little damage he'd taken during the match, just not what he'd gone into it with, or if it had only given him a jolt of stamina.

“Cupid’ll help you out with that if you head back to the Dojo,” Zeus noted, before asking, “so, Pit my boy, who’re your friends?"

Rika, rather than introduce herself, instead echoed ”Yeah. Who?” putting all the onus on the angel to do the round of introductions it seemed - which he didn’t mind at all.

He started with the Koopa Kingdom's newest princess, gesturing towards her with a flourish. "This is Rika! She's not competing this time but she's really tough, especially on the water!

"And this is her brother Bowser Jr.! He's good at a lot of stuff! We've known each other for a while now." Besides Captain Falcon, the young Koopa was probably his oldest friend within the group. Despite that, the introduction was still pretty short since there was still more to go.

"Ashrah's my kameo partner," he said next, gesturing to the demoness this time who nodded her head in greeting. "We just met yesterday but she taught me all about how the tournaments work!"

Finally he flitted over to Zeus himself and presented the big man with both hands for the benefit of the other three. "Aaaand this is Zeus! He's a god, and he recruited me and Amaterasu for his dojo so that we could enter!"

As an aside Pit whispered to the siblings something about him being 'one of the good Zeus-es' before he smiled at the god again. "Thanks for coming to watch! Don't worry, I'm gonna bring Fight of Gods all the way to the finals! Were you gonna go watch Amaterasu too?"

“Amaterasu’s got Amaterasu covered,” the god replied, which got a ‘huh?’ from both the kids. The god laughed at that, but didn’t give any explanation, instead going on. “Truth be told though, I don’t think she’ll have much luck. The mugen dojo never get close to winning, we know there’d be a riot if they did given how cheap some of their fighters are considered, but they’re still a killer of the pools.”

In response to this statement, there came a beep in jr’s phone, prompting the prince to check it with a "Hmmm?" and for him to then go "Ha, shows what you know, because her team won!" after reading the update Seek (a sentient AI personal assistant) had created regarding the current status of the seeker’s wins and losses.

This info he turned around to show the others, prompting Zeus to ask Pit “these all friends of yours?” his tone quietly impressed given that (almost) uninterrupted sea of wins on display.

After making a noise not unlike an old man impressed with his grandson's latest piece of technology, Pit nodded. With a wide smile he declared, "basically, yep! I never doubted any of them for a second!"

...well, maybe a couple of the newest comers, but he wasn't about to admit that out loud.

After peering over his shoulder to look at the small screen Ashrah stood up straight once more. There was a satisfied look on her face, glad that she'd thrown her lot in with this group even in a small way. She'd had a good feeling about Pit from the start, and that extended to his ensemble now.

"A good shake up is just what this city needs," she said, glancing at Zeus. The god's eyes were still clouded over with reddish light, so trying to speak in depth with him would be moot... though perhaps that could be fixed soon. She'd discuss it with her partner and fellow dojo members later. For now, she turned back to Pit.

"I'll go and find Sareena, I'm sure she's won her match by now. Our next one will be held this afternoon, the location posted the same way the first one was. If you have need of me before then, feel free to call."

"Oh, sure! And same to you!" the angel replied. Ashrah tipped her head to him and the others, a polite gesture before departing. As she left she donned the wide-brimmed hat and veil she'd been carrying with her, still with a small cut taken out of it.

With a little time to kill and nothing particularly pressing that needed to get done, Pit peeked at Junior's phone and the incoming tourney results once more. "That's really handy, you gotta teach me how to see that too."

"Seek found it for me" Jr said, pointing out a little kid in a horned hat looking figure hanging out in the corner of the screen. Said figure looked Pit dead in the eyes, before smiling and waving up out of the screen while Jr explained "They’re a ‘NetNavi’ who Rika got over Shinjuku, n can do all kinds of stuff"

”Also they’re people. It's a bit weird but, hey, they’re with us now so it’s fine” Rika added, before asking the little AI ”so where’d you find those lists?”

The answer turned out to be a fansite of some kind being updated by a diligent team of enthusiasts that Seek had helpfully trimmed down to just the relevant matches.

Pit waved back at Seek, not totally getting it at first until Rika explained that Navis were people.

"Oooh and they live in the phone! That's cool," he said. He imagined they could zip around over different electronics like a cartoon, but even just being some kind of seeking assistant seemed really helpful.

They looked over the site with opinion polls and somewhat heated forum discussion (a familiar green haired avatar among the posters), Pit slower than the rest until they'd had their fill.

"Makes me kinda want to check out the other fights!"

"That could be fun" Jr agreed, before beginning to say "Looks like the closest fight coming up is-" only to be interrupted by Zeus who declared that it was “Right here and right now!”

Indeed, even as the kids looked up from their phones they could see that a fresh set of fighters had arrived to have their turn on the stage. One was a guitar axe wielding, motorcycle wheel footed metal head, and the other a... Actually, it was really hard to tell what the guy was going for. Like many fighters he was unarmed, but even more than that he was unclothed, sporting no more than a pointed pink face mask and a pair of white briefs!

”I think I get why no one else showed up for this” Rika commented without a hint of concern for the feelings of the two fighters she was loudly judging.

"Hey come on, the lady is kinda cool" Jr retorted as he raised his phone up to record the match for the fansite’s incredibly piecemeal database of first round fights.

"Out of the two of them she's definitely the one I'd be rooting for," Pit said, joining the peanut gallery. He'd crossed his arms and tilted his head, his brows furrowed. Honestly he felt kind of lucky to get the opponent he had now.

After squaring up the two unusual fighters didn't waste much time getting down to business. For the most part. Neither seemed to be taking the first round very seriously whether because it was their gimmick (in the man's case) or because they weren't the type to take anything serious in the first place (as was the case for the woman). The masked man went at it with fists flailing when he wasn't in a tauntingly casual neutral stance, while the painted lady proved her prosthesis was fully functional, zipping one-legged around the raft as her spiked wheel threatened to chew up her opponent. Despite the silly appearances this fight was a fair bit more brutal than Pit's had been as both competitors preferred melee, and Svet was clearly looking to take some limbs off with her bladed guitar.

After some back and forth it ended with the masked man getting tossed overboard, though before the briefs-wearer pulled himself back up out of the water completely Zeus wrapped one large arm around the three young spectators with him, spinning them around so their backs were to the stage instead. The god watched on with an appraising look on his face before distracting the group with a grin and a suggestion. "A fine first round, but I believe our very own Sif is in the next section over if you all want to see a really invigorating match!"

Pit nodded. Of course he'd support the dojo that supported him. "Oh yeah, and I wanna go see Hakan too! His family owns a gym in the Mid Tier, I think I saw his name when I was looking at the World Warrior bracket earlier! And if any of the Seekers are still fighting we can go cheer for them!"

"Could be more fun than this, so sure" Rika replied, having not really been into that fight anyway. It had been both too silly and yet also far closer to an actual battle than Pit’s had been (despite the high caliber weapons that had been thrown around in it) and so she wasn’t really a fan. She was definitely more enthused about combat sports that were more sport than combat, she was finding.

Jr briefly considered complaining about not being able to finish the recording of the match, but really hadn’t been into it either. Besides, he’d now missed the start due to the big man turning them away anyway, so he gave a less enthusiastic "Yeah alright" in reply. He still uploaded what he had, but as expected mainly got complaints about not getting the full thing.

They shuffled off, leaving the ludicrous battle behind them and looking very much like the god of thunder was chaperoning the three of them as they walked around the Pools. In the Tekken area they indeed found Lady Sif, her kickboxing style of combat made elegant by her poise and the adornments on her outfit. When she noticed Zeus in between rounds she made sure to smile and wave, especially when she noted the koopa's phone camera turned on the stage.

Given each match was no longer than a couple of minutes each, the tour continued. The Pools matches might be boring for locals, but true fighting enthusiasts and newcomers that were into that sort of thing were sure to find enjoyment even in amateur matches. Of course not all matches in the Pools were fought between amateurs, since even storied fighters had to get through them from time to time. In the World Warrior section the group found that Sakura's match had already concluded (in record time even as one spectator mentioned to them), but they did see the man Pit had mentioned. He was boisterous but respectful, and completely covered in oil for some reason. After winning his match he turned to the group across the water and waved with both arms, a broad grin on his face. Pit let out a cheerful whoop and waved back in congratulations while Zeus applauded the wrestler.

There were duds too, but during the down times the kids could still mess around on their phones so it wasn't like they were bored for long. Contact numbers were finally exchanged, and Pit had been inquiring if Seek could jump to other phones when they entered the King of Fighters section. With six fighters in three matches almost side by side and all taking place at the same time, this area of the Pools was definitely the most exciting even if it had the least amount of people watching, though it seemed like Team Seekers of Fight had already finished up as well.

It was also definitely the hardest to watch given the amount of action going on, which really put Jr’s amature camera-koopaship to the test. With a bit of on the fly tinkering however, they got it linked up to Rika’s scout planes, allowing them to get some of the best (of the worst) recordings of KoF matches on the little fan community he, or rather now they, were now in.

That Rika had come up with the idea, or rather that she’d started watching via planes before the idea of using them to record, was a pretty good indication that she was getting into this, even if the girl herself wasn’t the most expressive of said enjoyment. It had not, she’d admitted when asked, been the worst way to spend the morning.

With her first victory easily under her belt, Grima walks away from her arena, heading through the streets with a confident stride. While they had managed to surprise her, she had advanced relatively unscathed. Her foe would naturally fall to the next member of the losers bracket… Or perhaps they would win and manage to crawl their way back to face her again. Either way, she would simply smack them back to the dirt where they belonged, as was her right.

“Ah, bravo with your first match! I expected nothing less from you, my lady!”

A voice, one familiar, causes Grima to stop in her tracks, her red eyes flicking to the alleyway next to her… From which emerged a tall, lanky man dressed in a suit, his green hair covered by a hat and eyes seemingly closed, an enthusiastic smile on his face, one hand on his belt and the other holding his hat down for no particular reason.

“Hazama” Grima says, a small bit of her usual condescension leaving as she turns to face her ‘benefactor’, “I had presumed you to be on your ‘business’. You watched my battle against that worm, did you?”

“Oh indeed, and I’m still on my duty. Work waits for no man, but I simply had to make sure you got through the first round without issue” the man says in a cheerful tone, stepping out and lifting his face towards Grima, “You took a pretty nasty hit back there. I certainly hope

The faux worry from Hazama caused Grima to roll her eyes, giving a dismissive wave of her hand, “Of course not. A single surprise hit from a worm” the vessel states, folding her arms, “... It is good that you arrived here though. I refrained from asking before, but tell me… You are helping me with my goals, of which I have made it clear what I want. But what is it that want from me?”

The directness of Grima’s question causes Hazama to smile, leaning back and giving a shrug, “Oh, I’m just doing a service. I wish for nothing but to see rising stars reach the shine they deserve!”

That response causes Grima to chuckle slightly, “A nonpartial answer… And one that is a complete lie” the vessel’s eyes immediately narrow, now locked onto Hazama’s closed eyes, “I know your type, snake. You’re vermin, a trickster whose only focus is on your own success…” surprisingly, Grima’s tone was not one of anger, rather simply stating a fact. In fact, as she spoke, a small smile formed on her lips, “So, what is it that you truly want, Snake? Power? A place at my side once my plans come to fruition? Or is it simply a part of your own plot for domination?”

Grima’s words had caused Hazama’s smile to fade, a few moments passing as he seemingly thought of how to answer before the smile returned… One far more malicious than before, his eyes opening slightly to reveal a pair of green, serpent-like eyes, “Unfortunately, I am still not at liberty to say. But nevertheless, I can assure you… I am fully invested in your… Resurrection. In fact, it would be rather unfortunate if you weren’t capable of fulfilling your plans. Simply… Consider my assistance a focus for entertainment. I’m of the opinion that this world needs a bit of a shakeup, and you are an individual who can accomplish that.”

Despite still being a noncommittal answer, Grima seemed… Relatively pleased at the response, giving a small nod, “Very well then. Your entertainment shall be my ascension. It always amuses me to know the reasons why those who follow me are so willing to throw their fellow worms to oblivion.”

With that, Hazama’s eyes close again, the casual smile returning to his face as he takes a look at his watch, “Ah, unfortunately, it is about time I go back to my duties. The house is still yours, my dear lady” Hazama takes a step back, removing his hat to give a theatrical bow, “I look forward to your further successes… ‘Fell Dragon’.”

Finally, Hazama begins to walk away, heading in the opposite direction of Grima and leaving the vessel to watch him walk off. After a few moments, Grima simply chuckles to herself, turning on her heel and continuing her walk. The Snake was an interesting subject, and she knew well enough to be wary of them. But at the same time, she couldn’t help but be amused by him.

Regardless, the time had come for her to relax before her next battle.

---

---

The bright headlamp was a dead giveaway on just what it was that had snuck up on the Seekers, a mane of flowing fleshy tendrils behind it giving the Naytiba the impression of an ominous will-o'-wisp. At least until it stepped forward, and the edges of its massive swords caught the light. With his rifle still equipped the Ace Cadet had been in the group's back line, and he whipped around when said light fell over the group to find Belial, the Seekers' escaped assailant.

"It's that monster that got away!" he exclaimed, though given Belial's intellect and the recording they'd just heard the simple term monster might not do it justice.

”...Good!” Ganondorf grunted, brandishing his great swords. He was getting exactly what he hoped for after all. And this time, he had no intention of letting the Naytiba escape again. Even if that meant calling on Brother Moon itself…

“SHHHHHHOW TIME!” Tenna interjected needlessly. Honestly, it seemed like he just wanted to announce himself.

”Going right, get clear!” Edward yelled in warning before he hauled on the reins with a bark of ”Yah” and got the shieldrix moving. He aimed to take a wide bank towards the side of the room in order to get their transport around and behind the rear threat rather than having it stuck in between hunter and hammerer.

As he did this, he marked the Belial, prompting the Snoruyo rearguard to form ice crystals in their round hands and to hurl them towards the foe, an attack joined by a shot of flames launched by the traffic crab riding shotgun next to the Dreadnaught.

In reply, Belial raised its mechanical left arm and began to rotate its hand at high speed as it stepped forward, using the motion of its limb to offset the weight of its metal swordblade as its whirl intercepted the hot and cold elements, which canceled each other out.

The Iron Golems had to hold position up front, waiting for the coach to get out of the way and avoiding clogging the left way past it, but the Chillanth allowed no such delays. Instead it leapt clear over the stage coach and crashed down beside the Snoruyo.

Not far away, Ace was making use of Edward's marking himself. He wasted no time in firing on the crimson Naytiba, having dropped into a kneeling position for better stability and accuracy. The first time they'd fought it he hadn't noticed any particularly weak spots that they could exploit, and the same was true now. In fact, it appeared just as healthy as when it had ambushed them earlier despite the beating they'd given it even before it had plummeted a few stories. "Looks like it patched itself up!"

His shots pinged off Belial’s guard a moment before the Naytiba dropped its guard in order to ready its right-hand sword like a throwing axe. Its white light turned red, and the next second its sinew swordblade hurtled through the air toward Ace, its combined speed and size making for a terrifying projectile. The move caught the hunter off guard, not expecting it to sacrifice part of its own body in such a way. It was only the distance between them when Belial threw its bladed limb that saved the Cadet from being cleaved apart - his eyes widened and he ducked into a roll to one side, feeling the air rush by in the wake of the sword's path. It embedded itself in the floor just behind where he'd been a moment ago.

Belial then held out its biological right arm and proved it was not a sacrifice at all, regenerating a new sword in about a second, the weapon not so much equipment as an extension of its body. Then it charged, combining the metal and meat swords into a single, immense curved greatsword even taller than itself. It leaped, swinging the greatsword in a massive revolving cleave at the Chillanth, which left streaks of red lightning as it carved through the air. Then Belial sprang up as it continued its spin to plunge the blade through one Snoryu and into the ground. After a brief moment, the biomass injected into the ground burst up through the floor again as fleshy barbs the size of scimitars in an area around it.

While the Chillanth was sent reeling and bleeding, the unassuming Snoryu raised its hands towards the incoming blow, and formed a protective barrier off which the penetrating blow glanced. The bloody blade still struck the ground however, and a moment later all the impossible creatures were ravaged by the bloody blades striking up from the floor.

This was not a war they could win, and their creator knew it.

”Fall back! Double team and fall back!” Edward shouted from the stagecoach now circling past them, the man thrusting out a finger as he gave the command, giving the squad of Snoryu a burst of speed to act. With their stubby legs, the skirmishers certainly needed it, even as their numbers doubled as a result of them all using double-team. Belial attacked with a flurry of slashes, never aiming for an illusion more than once, but it still managed to hit only one Snoryu.

The gaggle of grunts with the Chillanth at their head hurried towards the approaching line of iron golems, which opened gaps in their shield wall through which they could pass, if they could make it.

Not at all shaken up by the near miss of Belial's sword throwing, Ace did his best to cover the lot of them - including himself as he moved towards the Naytiba, preparing to put himself into melee with the monster once again, his clutch claw primed and the hilt of his swords ready to be drawn. He didn't rush into it, his approach measured to account for the possibility that Belial turned on him and closed the distance itself. He ran through what items he had on him that could possibly help -could it be blinded if it saw out of the spotlight? was its body susceptible to certain elemental energies? how many healing options did he have left to share?- while plugging Belial with the piercing rounds.

Belial had launched a sweeping slash to trip up a fleeing Snoryu when Ace’s shots sank into its fleshy right side, each giving a small spurt of blood. Its spotlight pivoted his way, and after ruthlessly kicking the fallen creature at one of the iron golem’s shields, Belial strode the hunter’s way. It extended its metal sword, pointing it at him, then couched both blades at its sides and bent forward, arms crossed. The next second it launched forward in a dash that ended in a scissor slash, covering a huge horizontal area.

Tenna had to react fast to remove Ace from this situation. With a cartoonish scratch on the chin, he snapped his finger as a photo of a lightbulb appeared comically over his head. Within seconds, Tenna had split into 12 Tennalings and Barrel-of-Monkeys’d himself to the tail end of the stagecoach. The frantic movement of Edward’s Shieldrixes whipped the chain of mini Tennas around wildly, though at the very tail end of it, one of the TV host’s likenesses reached out its tiny hand, as if insinuating for Ace to grab hold. Huh… Strangely enough, the hooked Tennas actually looked like a long rope. With little time to question it the hunter took the tiny Tenna's hand, holding fast as he was whipped nearly clear of the Naytiba's attack. As wide as it was, the edge of its blade clipped Ace's own crimson one on the ends of his rigging as he flared it out. It was a hasty defence, but it worked to prevent a nasty slice into his side, even if it had taken a chunk of one rigging wing in return.

”No! Keep it away!” Edward shouted back, but things were already in motion. They were going to be chased. So best to put things in the way of that chase

”Drop a wall” he commanded the traffikrab justuring over the side of the driver’s seat. After a moment of confusion, the monster complied, sacrificing some of its health to form a wall of plastic bricks that was swiftly left in the dust. He shifted the stage coach’s path such that this wall was then in between it and the incoming Belial. He could only hope that Tenna would be able to get Ace over it in time.

He then made the Shieldrixes keep going in a straight line while he commanded his feather staff striker to heal the impossible creatures, while he himself grabbed his Mag Launcher and started to load a magazine of its intended ammunition into it.

Ganondorf, by contrast, had seen all he needed to see. He refrained from acting immediately so he could gauge how much Belial had recovered since the previous encounter - and to stall for the time he ultimately needed. And when it looked like the Naytiba was at full strength again, the Gerudo remained behind as the stagecoach put distance between itself and the erected wall. Ganondorf knew well enough that the plastic wall wouldn’t hold for long. And so he intended to be there to give Belial a nasty welcoming party.

The Warlord summoned his Moblins, all preparing to loose Fire Arrows as he also re-summoned Phantom Ganon to help him launch what he intended to be a pincer attack against Belial as soon as the Naytiba cleared or breached the wall. ”You won’t escape me this time!” Ganondorf barked, almost as a war cry as he and Phantom Ganon lunged for their attacks. Ganondorf went at Belial from the front while Phantom Ganon flew around around to lung from the flank with N Corp’s Nail intending to inflicting bleeding on Belial’s fleshy bits while Ganondorf’s Acidic Great Sword could deal additional acid damage on top of it’s slashes.

After Ace narrowly escaped bisection thanks to Tenna’s ludicrous but timely rescue, Belial prepared to give chase to the fleeing stagecoach. The sudden appearance of a bright red plastic brick wall meant that Tenna needed to get over it, and after seeing that, the Naytiba saw no reason to waste time breaking through. It ran a short way, following the Seekers back into the space center’s more well-lit Sector 2, then leaped high enough to use the barrier as a stepping stone. As it crested the wall, it saw Ganondorf, as well as Phantom Ganon going the other way. It could not stop its momentum, which resulted in a full volley of fire arrows to its upper body, but it could combine its blades into a single, massive curved greatsword that it plunged into the ground as it descended.

As sinewy bone barbs sprouted from the floor around Belial, the two Ganons’ attacks hit home, resulting in a withering trade. All three reeled for a split second, but by the time tainted blood hit the ground, the battle was on. Belial did not hesitate at all to abandon its stagecoach chase to give the warlord its full attention, perhaps reasoning that it would be most effective to exterminate its prey one at a time. It split its sword, then struck back with a series of wild slashes at both Ganons, any semblance of defense forsaken as it savagely vied to kill them.

”At last” Edward said, mostly to himself, as the king drew Belial’s full attention, giving him the time he needed to get the stage coach fully out of danger, and to pull his troops back too. His striker had managed to stem any bleeding out, but they were still not going to be of any use in this fight.

In terms of active intervention, the dreadnaught used Designate Target on their singular foe once more right as the blows were traded. This boosted the Ganondorfs’ damage by 25%, and refreshing/increasing the stacks of Marked up to 4, giving anyone who wanted to try to shoot into that melee 40% more accuracy against their desired target.

It was something that Ace planned to take advantage of again, but before that he wanted to take the time afforded to them while Ganondorf held off Belial to strategize a little. They could probably fight the crimson Naytiba to a stalemate until the other Seekers were finished and came as reinforcements, but it would be even better if they could find a way to take Belial down before then.

First he pat one of the little Tennas on the head and offered a quick, "thanks for the save, Tenna." The cheerful miniature Tenna grinned happily as he fused back into his whole self again.

Then Ace glanced at Edward, flashing him first a little apologetic smile for the close call with the coach before he got down to business. For this battle they'd traded out Sandalphon for him and the hunter wanted to make sure the other man knew exactly what they were dealing with.

"This thing's smart enough to understand and adapt to us, on top of its speed, and strength. And if it can heal itself... we gotta find a way to put a stop to that, or slay it in one go. Neither's really my forte," he said. "But if we're gonna come up with a plan it's gotta be when it's too distracted to hear us, like now - otherwise I'm just gonna try throwing everything I've got at it and see what works."

Tenna chimed in with a suggestion. “Earlier, when that MONSTER had attacked us, I was able to keep it staggered by stunning it over and over!” The CRT scratched his chin. “I’m not much of a smarts-guy, but I don’t think I can sneak up on him like earlier.” He warned Ace, who was familiar with his chop ability, that he combo’d with Sandaphlon. The connection he was trying to make was clear: get him a way in to attack, and Tenna could temporarily disable Belial.

”We get its armor as sundered as possible, then distract it, stun it, stick it with the grenades from this” Edward suggested as he hoisted now the loaded the mag launcher ”and finally hit it with something else that’ll also set them off prematurely”

Ace nodded at the both of them, a look of confident determination on his face. He could help with the first part, and if nothing else he could most certainly handle the distraction. "Sounds like a plan."

A moment later, the furious duel between Ganondorf and Belial reached its conclusion. Sacrificing some of the weapon’s durability, the Naytiba parried Ganondorf’s Acidic Greatsword with a cunning twist of its metal swordblade. It then stepped forward to stomp down on the warlord’s left foot with its right, then adapted to the extreme close quarters by coming around with a spiked pommel strike from its right-hand bone sword, essentially a right hook to the jaw. As Ganondorf leaned back, a slash to the cuirass from Belial’s right sword hurled him to the floor on his back.

Of course, Belial’s focus left it wide open. The next instant, Phantom Ganon’s N-Corp Nail pierced straight through its chest from behind. Now bleeding, Belial gave a guttural growl, then combined its swords. It wrenched around in a colossal, three hundred and sixty degree red-lightning slash that bisected not just Phantom Ganon behind it, but the plastic wall behind him. The familiar vanished, and plastic bricks clattered down, as Belial recovered from the slash and separated its swords again, the blood-soaked N-Corp Nail still lodged in its midsection.

Of course, Ganondorf was a large man and a rather tough one at that. So the slash across his cuirass did little to take him out of the fight. If anything, Belial was only angering him further. But Edward’s suggestion had reached the warlord’s ear and was not lost on him. So if sundering the Naytiba’s armor was what they needed, well then Ganondorf just so happened to have a weapon that was perfect for exactly that task. He grunted as he sheathed the great swords and summoned his Acidic Crystal Spear to his tight grip, but before actually making any lunge Ganondorf instead inhaled deeply.

In the next moment, the Gerudo exhaled a long reaching fire breath attack that he swept across where Belial stood. The fire wasn’t intended for raw damage, but mostly to create a momentary smokescreen that Ganondorf tried to capitalize on to plunge into Belial through the cloud of smoke with his Acidic Spear, its properties giving it the distinct ability to deal extra durability damage to an enemy’s armor. Of course, if the plunge missed, Ganondorf would simply reroute the attack toward the ground and generate an eruption of flames around Belial’s feet instead. Naturally, Ganondorf’s anger didn’t allow him to stop at just one attack, so he of course plunged and swept wildly with his spear, fully able to take advantage of its longer reach to keep Belial’s blades out of slashing range. And just for good measure, Ganondorf extended the Gravemind tentacles from his back to give himself four extra limbs to grapple and parry against Belial’s blades. He still needed to buy a bit more time, knowing what was coming.

By then Ace had disembarked from the coach, leaping over the edge of its roof and taking off toward Belial as soon as he hit the ground. He was sure that Ganondorf could handle the heavy lifting, but he wasn't about to let the guy go at it alone if he could help it. With the rifle he was confident enough to shoot into the fray at Belial especially while the target designation still lasted, second time being the charm as he moved towards melee. He fired shot after shot until close enough, when he swung the rifle around to hang off his pack and set his grip high on the hilt of his long sword, one hand hovering just over the lower portion of it in preparation for an iai counter, expecting the Naytiba to turn on him at any moment.

When bathed in flame, Belial paused for only a moment, then charged forward with a sword swing. It and Ganondorf struck one another at the same time. From there their ferocious melee resumed in earnest, but they were not on an even playing field. Even if Ganondorf fought defensively, trying to keep Belial at a distance with his armaments, the Naytiba enjoyed the range advantage and would simply not be warded off, even by an acidic speartip. With one sword it could slap away or hook around the spear’s corrosive point, allowing it to attack with its other blade. Ganondorf’s tentacles did help a great deal when it came to taking blows on their master’s behalf, or poking away at openings in Belial’s defense. Still, the Naytiba fought with savage ferocity, fully confident in its regenerative ability to undo whatever wounds it took in order to inflict grievous injury. This included shots from Ace from afar.

Once Belial got outnumbered, it changed tactics. It combined its swords, then whirled around in a massive double cleave from the giant melded greatsword, wreathed in streaks of red lightning. At the same time Ace's hand came down to join the other on the Yato's hilt, yanking it from where it rested at his hip and flowing into his counter. He twisted into a two-handed circular cut of his own, his blade clashing against Belial's while he skated forward throwing the great sword just enough off course that it sliced through the air over their heads.

Tenna, however, was not about to sit idly. Having fought this monstrosity before, he had been convinced that the monster needed a significant period of time to regenerate, so if the rest of the seekers had a good opening, there was a chance they could inflict some serious damage. Tenna would snap his fingers, summoning two Cat-like shadow men with large balls of yarn. Surely Belial would recognize this attack, however compared to Tenna’s previous battle, the beast now had two more obstacles to dodge as the cronies began hucking yarn balls with average precision, when suddenly… Tenna shrunk into 12 mini hims again.

The miniature Tv-hosts scattered about, his motivation behind this move unclear. Suddenly, one of the miniature Tenna’s would crawl along Ganondorf’s side, getting close enough to his ear that the Gerudo could hear him. “The party bus is parked! Retreat for now, I have a plan!” Whether he chose to listen was to Ganondorf’s discretion, though it did seem like Tenna was serious in his words.

”...Hmph.” Ganondorf grunted under his breath. With his tentacles he was able to give himself an opening - albeit slim - to momentarily back off. But even if he was going with Tenna’s plan, that did not mean he was abandoning his desire to slay this Naytiba. Far from it. It also helped that this more or less lined up with his desire to buy time for his own plan that he had in motion.

While this was going on, Edward moved around the fight and added to the shooting. Holding the grenade launcher by the forward grip, he freed up his dominant hand to fire first a magelock pistol slug into the monster, and to then swap to Odden’s Pinky to shower the meat monster with a blaze of burning spell ammo. Between the latter shots and his searing enchantment, the would be aflame for sure.

With both handguns expended, he reholstered the pistols and then moved his grip back to the mag launcher’s own, ready to fire the moment where the seekers were clear enough to avoid them being caught in the anti-titan launcher’s splash radius.

Meanwhile, now that Ace was well within his optimal range for his chosen melee weapon, he lashed out with a reverse vertical cut that dragged his sword over the crimson monster's chest up towards its face. Belial hadn't slowed down at all, so it was hard to properly gauge how injured it really was - best to err on the side of caution and lay on as much damage as possible before giving Tenna his opening.

Though Ace’s skillful parry left his enemy in an unbalanced overswing, the Seekers had only a brief moment before the Naytiba steadied itself. Once Ace landed a harsh slice, Belial raised a leg to deal the offending monster hunter a hefty kick, then leaped into the air and inverted its greatsword in its hands. When it plunged down and sunk the blade through the floor, another miniature forest of sinewy bone barbs sprouted up, endangering everyone in its vicinity. That did not include Edward, though, and by the time his magic submachine gun clicked empty, Belial was both burning and bleeding. It separated its swords, hurled its right-hand meat cleaver at the tactician horizontally, and began regrowing a new one. The cleaver never touched its intended target.

Instead it was swatted away by Ganondorf who was now wielding his great swords again. After backing off from Belial at Tenna’s advice, the warlord had used his mobility via Bullet Jump to put himself in a position to guard Edward for a moment. Then he re-summoned his Moblin Archers to fire a volley of Fire Arrows, immediately followed by summoning both of his strikers. Riptor appeared to lob a fireball from her maw and Blast Hornet fired off his own drone missiles via Search Strike.

Edward cast Designate target on Belial again, maxing out the stacks of marked in the process of weakening it and then joined in on this volley by pulling the trigger on the launcher. The weapon spat out a pair of grenades in quick succession and though he wasn’t exactly a master of such weapons, but both magic and technology made them fly true. Attracted to both the metallic body and the magical marks, the grenades’ flight path curved in the air as they homed in on the foe.

With all of the incoming attacks it was almost a stroke of luck that Belial had caught Ace with its kick. The hunter tumbled away from it, coming to stop by rolling into a crouch with his sword still drawn - but upon seeing the Naytiba falling from its jump and knowing what was coming next he backed up instead of moving back in, mini-cannon batteries at his sides firing while the edge of the spike growths just barely clipping him as he hopped the last few feet out of its range. At that point he felt his back bump something as he watched the bombardments go off, a little sparkle in his eye when he glanced over his shoulder and a thought occurred to him.

Belial lunged to the side to evade the arrows and fireball, and then when this failed to escape the grenades and bee drones used the side of its sword to physically parry the explosives. One of the grenades was bounced, sending it flying across the room to detonate against one of the walls. The second slipped past its defences and stuck to the blighted machine, only for it to grab and haul the explosive off of itself before it went off, resulting in an recoverable arm crippling rather than a devastating core sundering. It was already regenerating when it used its other arm to whack at the search drones, a few exploding on the Naytiba but the rest sent into a tail spin that had them crash into the ground, each other, or even back into the Gerudo's summoned forces themselves.

There was another projectile flying towards Belial that was so unassuming that it was easy to miss among the fire and artillery. When it collided with the side of the Naytiba's head it splattered harmlessly, besides leaving behind an opaque pink residue. Paint balls, fired from the monster hunter's slinger. A couple more joined the first. Though Ace had no idea if Belial was actually seeing out of the spotlight that was its face, the paint balls were good enough to draw the monstrous swordsman's attention even if they didn't end up obscuring part of its vision. And when that attention inevitably turned towards Ace once more it could see he still wielded a blade in hand, though it was very different from the long sword he'd just recently had equipped.

"I'm glad this stuck around, I was starting to feel like you two great sword users were cleaving me out on purpose," he said, indeed hefting a great sword into a ready stance. It was bloody crimson and more than a little odd shaped at the handle, a mirror of one of Belial's own swords - in fact the one it had thrown earlier. The severed limb hadn't dissolved, and whether it would or not once the Naytiba was defeated was a thought for later. For now, Ace gave the monster a cheeky grin and lifted the borrowed sword up over his shoulder.

In response Belial forced Ganondorf away from itself with a wide, vicious swing of its sword-arms, one slashing across the warlord's midsection and the other separating a few of his tentacles from his body before it dashed at Ace. The hunter had gotten used to its speed, so when he brought his own sword down in a heavy overhead chop it sank deep into Belial's left shoulder, a spray of blood shooting out when he dragged the blade down and forced it out of the Naytiba's body to complete the swing. The attack hadn't staggered the monster though, and it traded blows with Ace with the first of its own swords. Ace held fast, gritting his teeth as the blade bit into his side. He was tough enough to weather it, and to still bring the severed sword-arm up to brace against Belial's second blade, its metal limb blocked by and pressing against the broad side of Ace's current weapon. Incensed by the hunter and half-blind on its right side, if Tenna needed that distraction to go in for his stun it was now or never.

With the hope that his allies heeded his warning, suddenly the sky was illuminated with a barrage of stars playing a laughing sound. However, on a couple of the odd-faced shapes was riding a miniature Tenna! Having managed to escape Belial’s attention, had all twelve tiny counterparts intact and was using his All-Star Cast ability to close in. Once all stars mounted with Tennalings had crashed down, Tenna would reform into his regular shape behind Belial on its right and deliver a Snap-cut ability to the back of its headlamp, inflicting the stun that his teammates would need to unleash everything they’ve got. Tenna could continue to stun the beast, but only for a limited time before the effects weakened. “GO!GO!GO!”

”Hold for these!” Edward called out, holding down the trigger on his grenade launcher, and firing its remaining 4 shots in two quick bursts. All four explosives homed in, now unable to be knocked away by the foe, and the stuck fast to it, at which point Edward used his last remaining charged mana fuel cell to cast one more Designate Target on it, briefly rendering it more vulnerable.

”Now!”

The little cannons on Ace's rigging swiveled and took aim. Not as shaken up by the falling stars as he could have been if he hadn't seen them a couple of times before, Ace had escaped out from under Belial once it was stunned with a short twist of his borrowed blade into a horizontal cut that pivoted him away. He retreated while his rigging splayed out since swapping weapons now would take too much time. The cannons fired, the ballistics spraying over the grenades to rupture them into exploding - and explode they did, a great ball of force and fire consuming the macabre swordsman.

There were several long moments where the Seekers held their breaths and waited. They surrounded the plume of smoke and the pieces of the Naytiba that had blown off and clattered or splattered onto the floor around them. Some of its organic body had surely been reduced to ashes, but its metal parts remained. It was impossible to tell if the mechanical legs that had buckled but still stood were remnants that its spirit sat upon or if Belial still lived. Then, the gray smoke darkened into black, flashes of red joining it until it was all dispersed by a wild, wide range swing that threatened those that still gathered around it. There it stood; bleeding, blown apart, but alive and rife with violence.

It was regenerating, one piece at a time. Its sword arms had come first, both of them organic now and ready to fend off anyone that dared to try and come finish it off. One of its legs was still cracked and unusable, the other starting to bulge out of its metal casing as it regrew within moments. Its torso and head were a mess, but it wouldn't be long until Belial had completely reformed itself. If the Seekers didn't find a way to kill it right now, they would have to start over from square one. But something else was coming, something that had been quietly making its way toward the engagement since the very start of it.

It happened in an instant. An immense mass, moving at terrific speed, loudly plowed through the ceiling and into the ground in an instant, reducing Belial to an ashy smear on the ground before the ground itself got pulverized. A wave of displaced air sent the Seekers flying away from the impact zone, where all but Ganondorf were left sprawling and wondering what happened. As the earth beneath gradually absorbed the unimaginable force of the impact, the pillar slowed down, and the Seekers could see that it was a tightly-packed agglomerate of huge tentacles, with each limb the size of a fully-grown sequoia tree. They originated from the ghastly Brother Moon, partially visible through the hole it had punched in the Highlands’ cloud cover. Its very presence seemed to taint the sky an ominous blood red, as if reality itself strained to contain it. Once the tentacles ground to a halt, they began to recede, pulling apart and up into the heavens. The clouds came together again as the Brother Moon withdrew, hidden once more in the starless skies above, but the destruction it had wrought remained.

In front of the Seekers now lay a building-sized pit, several hundred feet deep. At the bottom, Belial’s spirit faintly twinkled amidst the flattened debris. Seeing this, Ganondorf could only laugh like a victorious conqueror. He had wanted to try taking that freakishly strong swordsman for himself, but if he could not have his prize, reducing it to atoms was the next best thing. It had been a vicious battle, but the Seekers had won.

Mokou's posture doesn’t change, not from the sight of the Juggernaut and not from the beast coming up from behind. In fact, she simply tilted her head, glancing to the others before she began to walk forward, a single hand leaving her pockets that quickly became engulfed in flames. She could focus on the message that had been played to them later… As soon as the rest weren’t at risk of getting killed. Swinging her flaming hand, a massive wave of feathers appeared in the air before launching themselves forward in Mokou’s signature torrent of flame.

By now, Heismay knew to expect a firestorm like this from Mokou, so rather than recklessly charge into the fray he circled around to the side, trying his best to shut out the sounds of clashing metal and gunfire from the pitched battle against Belial somewhere behind him. He’d only barely managed to catch his breath from the brawl with the Skullheads, so hopefully those dregs lurking around the sector’s edges kept their distance and didn’t make this any harder than it needed to be. Vile though it was, this Juggernaut seemed no more than a brute, roughly eight feet tall and perhaps half a ton in weight. No matter how strong the enemy, it couldn’t kill him if it couldn’t hit him.

Within seconds, the Juggernaut was hidden behind Mokou’s fiery feather-wall. Too big to make use of the scant openings within the barrage, it had no choice but to plow through, its heavy hammer raised to mitigate what it could. After a moment, the Naytiba whirled around, the sheer volume of displaced air blowing back some of the flame. For a brief moment, Heismay could see through the shimmering heatwave that even more flame poured from some kind of mechanism in the hammer’s head. Then the Juggernaut hurled the hammer, which flew through the air like a massive boomerang. Taken by surprise, Heismay only barely dodged away from the bludgeon in flight, which somehow circled around and back toward the Juggernaut. When the monster seized its weapon, it turned the momentum into a massive overhead smash aimed at as many Seekers as possible.

Geralt had gone around the side opposite Heismay, attempting to force the massive Naytiba to split its attention, and withdrew the Hateful Flesh from within his body, a light spray of blood heralding the weapon's arrival. Following up with Quen to shield himself, he was as taken aback by the Juggernaut's hammer flying around like a boomerang, and its curved trajectory brought it around to him as well. He dropped to the floor, the colossal weapon flying over him harmlessly, but this left him unable to capitalize on the overcommitted slam attack as he rose. The hammer crashed into the ground with a thunderous crash. As Geralt charged in to attack, Juggernaut lifted his hammer, turning to the Witcher. It positioned its hammer behind it, leaving itself wide open. Geralt stepped in, swinging his weapon in anticipation of the incoming attack, which the Naytiba launched like a missile. Cleaver met haft as Geralt's last-second movement threw off Juggernaut's aim, the clang of metal on metal filling the hall around them as Geralt was launched backwards, rolling to his feet in a move practiced after being tossed head over heels by many massive foes in his decades of hunting. “Faster than he looks on the swing.” Geralt grunted out.

While the Juggernaut was distracted, Heismay swooped in to jump onto its back. He made two immediate discoveries: that he couldn’t keep hold of the fast-moving brute unless he grabbed one of its golden masks with one hand, and that the giant Skullings’ tentacles reacted to his presence. He hacked at them as best he could, his efforts ineffective until he let go with his other hand, sliced off one tentacle near the root with a two-handed slash as he fell away. He dropped down at the feet of the Juggernaut, which was too close for the Naytiba to swing at him, so it went for a stomp instead. Heismay scooted backward as fast as he could, but the monster’s boot still caught the tip of his wing. “Agh!” With its target pinned down, the Juggernaut raised its hammer like a golfer, the built-in thruster igniting.

As soon as the Juggernaut’s hammer reached its peak, a loud explosion of flame erupted from the side as Mokou slammed foot first into the weapon. While she herself was small, the sheer force of her attack knocked the hammer to the side… Especially with the added explosion that burst forth from the phoenix’s foot. That sideswipe diverted the hammer smash, resulting in a severe whiff and overswing that left the Juggernaut wide open. Using that momentum, Mokou flipped back in the air, snapping her fingers to send a direct stream of fire towards the Naytiba’s head. Geralt followed suit, closing the last of the distance between them and landing a couple of swipes with his cleaver.

Similar to Heismay, Roxas had also elected not to immediately charge at the Juggernaut so as not to get tagged by any of Mokou’s feathers. So after a quick split second of thought he decided his opening moves and started making them. Rather than attacking Juggernaut for now, the Nobody instead used flow motion to maneuver himself around his fellow Seekers and casting Tailwind on them all, providing a small but still noticeable speed buff that would carry them through the rest of the battle.

”Wind!” came Roxas’ next spell as he then began to apply Aerogas to himself and the other Seekers to give them 18 seconds of all damage against them being reduced by half thanks to the shields of whirling wind that surrounded their individual bodies. Only then did Roxas disappear from sight only to reappear behind the Juggernaut to slash at its back with his StepSword, immediately trying to follow that with a flurry of Keyblade strikes across the Naytiba’s back.

Blazermate also stayed back, but this was more because this is what she mostly did in fights than anything. As Mokou opened up, Blazermate summoned her engineer striker to begin his sentry construction to offer some support damage and coverage. She’d then attach her healing beam to people and throw the occasional divine star at the Juggernaut, letting its residual healing wash over people as it came back in a wave. She’d keep her other abilities in reserve for now as her allies pummeled this thing. Once Heismay got into a bit of trouble, while Mokou tried to stop the creature’s hammer hitting Heismay, Blazermate used her Leap of Faith to not only pull Heismay back to her, but also stand him upright.

When Mokou destabilized her target, it had been forced to shift its footing to keep its balance, which allowed Heismay to slip free. He would have easily been able to zip to safety on his own thanks to the Tailwind buff from Roxas, but Blazermate’s Leap of Faith made it a non-issue. He slid to a stop on his feet, which was a weird experience, but the battle-hardened shadowguard composed himself quickly. “My thanks.”

At the same time, the Juggernaut was on the move. Mokou’s flame torrent left the cephalopod flesh of the fused Skullings on its head sizzling, like hibachi octopus fresh off the grill, but the phoenix had a lot more meat and masks to burn through before she’d bring this thing down. The Juggernaut responded to Roxas first: not at all staggered by his melee attacks, it released its hammer with one hand in order to whip around with a punishing backfist, hard enough to dislocate bone. Then it whirled its hammer around its head with one hand in a middle grip, grabbed it with the other midway through, and launched a stronger, longer-range spin strike to rebuff all foes in melee range.

”Refl-ACK!” Roxas had tried to chant his spell but was too slow on the draw and got swatted away by the hammer for his trouble. Luckily for him he had an Aeroga spell up already or that would have been a lot worse.

From afar, Heismay assumed his Assassin archetype and took aim. It seemed like not even Geralt could comfortably go toe-to-toe with this thing in close quarters, so the five of them would probably have to wear it down while passing its enmity around like a ball. He unleashed a Mudo that flew toward the Juggernaut and splashed against its side in a burst of dark magic, though even that direct impact didn’t seem to faze it much. As Heismay moved in, the Naytiba wound up and hurled its hammer again, which kicked up sparks where it grazed the floor as it circled around the arena, threatening the fliers.

Blazermate, seeing its new attack, decided to give people time to prepare for it and maybe help cause more damage herself. As it started to hurl its hammer, Blazermate hit it with Disruption, banishing it as the sparks started to come from its hammer and interrupting its attack for a short time. Once it reappeared, it appeared with 2 additional illusions of itself that started to pummel it with their own hammers.

Mokou herself simply glanced at the incoming hammer, nary a change in her expression as she flipped over the spinning weapon, waving a hand to form a few larger feathers that shot forth towards the Juggernaut.

Geralt leapt backwards as the Juggernaut began its circling sweep attack, then had to repeat the action when it followed with a second sweep, this one just a bit wider in range. He could swap Identities to keep up the damage, but that risked leaving Roxas and Heismay as the only close-range fighters. Mokou and Blazermate were more than enough to chip away at this thing while the three of them balanced its attention and jumped in for hit-and-run attacks.

Though taken aback by the circumstances it returned to after its momentary banishment, the Juggernaut reacted quickly. After taking a few hits from Heismay, Geralt, and its doppelgangers, backstepped its illusions’ hammer swings, then grabbed their heads and slammed them together. The magical copies fell apart, crumbling, but any semblance of time the Juggernaut might have bought itself melted away as Mokou’s pinions pelted its body.

Even those big feathers had less effect than the phoenix might have hoped, though, and the team soon realized the reason why. Once the Juggernaut raised its hand, the Wolf Sledge flew into it, and when the Naytiba roared, flames engulfed the giant hammer.

As the blazing firelight illuminated the dark sector, Heismay felt the heat on his furry face. “Hmph!” he snorted. “Don’t tell me fire is its element?” At least it wasn’t lightning, so Heismay himself wouldn’t take extra damage. Then again, he probably couldn’t afford to take a hit from it, period. “No matter. We fight on!”

The Juggernaut reignited the battle by slamming the Wolf Sledge against the ground repeatedly. Each mighty impact sent forth a fiery wave of explosions along the floor. The first went for Geralt, and the second for Heismay, who leaped away, using the surge of hot air to take wing and glide. Mokou and Blazermate had the good fortune of countering the ground blasts by default, but another blast wave did level the medabot’s turret.

Heismay glided over the chaos using his arm-wings, his sword sheathed. He felt rather useless in this fight so far, spending most of the time dodging while being unable to do significant damage. At least now he could attack from a direction the Juggernaut didn’t expect. He banked around toward the monster, then reached back to unsheath his longsaber as he dropped. In mid-air, he became the Assassin to add extra bite to his Lurking Nightblade. “Wither!” The shadowy slash fall across the back of the Juggernaut’s dominant arm, its middling damage perhaps less important than the thirty-second accuracy debuff it inflicted. If the Naytiba couldn’t hit them, the Seekers could whale on it with impunity.

[color=gold]”Ugh… someone get the license plate number on that hammer?”[/gold] Roxas muttered miserably to himself as he recovered from having the wind thoroughly knocked out of him. He had previously tried to cast his Reflectga spell but was clearly not quick enough. He shook it off. It felt like some of the damage had been healed away at least. Roxas probably had Blazermate and her heal beam to thank for that. But now the question was what to actually do. Attacking directly was obviously not the best choice. For now he supposed he would stick to running support until a better opportunity came along.

”Turbo!” Roxas called, releasing the Revavroom from her Poke Ball. She revved up eagerly as Roxas hopped onto her back and pointed at the Juggernaut, ”Help me support our friends. Get us closer and use Screech!” The Revavroom gassed her engines in acknowledgement before she took off with her Trainer riding on her back. Turbo got a bit closer to Juggernaut but was careful not to get too close per Roxas’ instructions. Then she really revved her engines until it produced an ear-splitting racket that could harshly lower the Defense of the Naytiba and hopefully make it more vulnerable to a heavier hitting Seeker. Roxas also decided to keep an eye on his allies and renew them with a fresh Aeroga spell if needed.

Geralt followed Roxas’s lead, releasing Tirn from his own ball. “Tirn! Metal Sound! Make it vulnerable.” The Shieldon let out a tiny roar before planting its feet and letting out a much harsher whining drone, aimed directly at the Juggernaut. While he did, Geralt called out to the others, “Get its attention, keep it off me!” As he raised the Hateful Flesh and began channeling Holy Lance. “Light of the Heavens, Pierce my foes!”

While the others called for reinforcements, Heismay kept the Juggernaut’s attention, dodging this way and that. His target’s accuracy debuff made evasion a little easier, but still the eugief’s heart pounded like crazy. Any hammer smash could be his last, after all, and he was low on MP. He continued to land what slices and slashes he could on the Juggernaut’s legs to make sure it tuned out the noise from the Pokemon, but he was looking for a way out until Geralt called out for assistance. When he heard that, his plan changed. “Understood!” He became the Assassin, saying, “O, power of kings!” As his enemy’s hammer descended, darted backward, then forward to use the burning weapon as a springboard. Bounding up, he grabbed hold of a golden mask and cast Plunder Magic to steal the Juggernaut’s essence and convert it to MP. It didn’t do any damage, but it did make the Juggernaut mad, mad enough to seize Heismay with his offhand and hurl him straight into the ground.

As soon as Heismay was thrown, a massive ball of fire flew straight into the Juggernaut’s head. While the fire itself did not do much, the sheer force was able to stagger them slightly… Which was just enough time for Mokou to launch herself in, slamming her open palm into the Naytiba’s head. A brief moment paces, but shortly after, a massive explosion emanates from Mokou’s hand, launching both her and the Juggernaut away… With the phoenix now missing an arm from the sheer force of her attack, albeit not seeming to give it much mind as she launched another stream of feathers to keep the beast on the backfoot.

For his part, it didn’t take Roxas long to see what Geralt was doing and to recognize the spell he was channeling. ”Keep circling and using Screech, Turbo!” Roxas instructed his Revavroom before dismounting the Pokemon by launching himself off of her body and toward where Geralt was standing. He still had a small portion of MP left that he had previously been saving in case someone needed an emergency heal. Now it was about to be used for another purpose.

Blazermate, having been doing her healing duties as people had been getting smacked around by that giant hammer as her defensive abilities were on cooldown saw Roxas and Geralt seemingly doing some sort of team move. Well, she did have a Kritz, and this group didn’t have a single super heavy hitting move, so maybe kritzing these guys would do some good damage. Although being a team move, Blazermate would need to swap between who was attacking at the time with her Kritz, so she wouldn’t have much kritz to use after the move was over. Considering all the light and such used from this move, the blue electric highlights really made things look anime though.

”Light!” When the sensation of Roxas’s power suffused his spell, Geralt smirked, remembering the last time they combined power like this: against Moebius D. While it wasn’t enough to slay their foe then, and likely wouldn’t be now, it would certainly hurt. Roxas once again teleported above their enemy hovering just over the lance that hovered above the Juggernaut like a Sword of Damocles, and as it descended he added his own beam from his Keyblade into the attack, further increasing its devastation.

Propelled in a streak of light from the keyblade, the radiant spear pierced through the burned and bewildered Juggernaut through the head, tunneled through its bloated body, and blasted back out into the floor. Taken to even greater heights by Blazermate’s Kritzkrieg, the Limit Break then blazed through the Juggernaut from the inside out. Rays of light rapidly blasted out of its stricken husk, perforating it like a pincushion, before the lance’s final detonation virtually vaporized it. Scorched chunks flew in all directions as the Juggernaut ceased to be.

Still on the floor a short distance away, Heismay had been forced to shield his eyes with his wing as the light flared wildly. Even with his gaze averted, the violent and climactic end to the fight left him speechless as he stared at the smoking crater where the Juggernaut had been. “Good lord…” he chuckled breathlessly, his shocked expression plainly visible to his new allies. Even Mokou, who’d blown up her own arm to set the Naytiba up for the finale, got her share of astonishment. “...Who are you people?”

Geralt looked at the smoldering remains of where Juggernaut had been, his own face betraying his surprise. “I wonder that myself, sometimes. This was just…a lucky assortment of us empowering one another.”

”We totally need to drop something like that on a consul or something.” Blazermate said, moving her healing beam over to heal others as the fight was over and her ubercharge spent from the attack.

Mokou’s response to the Juggernaut’s death was a simple, weary sigh, the white haired girl glancing down at her now missing limb, ”Well, I’m simply an immortal who has taken an interest in this whole duty you’ve all started. A bit more fun so far than fighting random beasts, I’ll admit” she states as Blazermate’s medibeam moves over to her, the healing properties of the beam along with Mokou’s own nature causing a new arm to, quite literally, burn into existence, her shirt seemingly reforming around it as per usual.

”Hehe, yeah. About that…” Roxas said, having landed back on the ground safely and recalling Turbo back to her Poke Ball. ”We kinda did use that on a consul. D, back in the Dead Zone. It wasn’t enough to take him down, though. But I guess to be fair we weren’t being buffed by Blazermate’s kritz at the time.”

Geralt nodded, face curling a bit in frustration at the mention of D. “Whoreson’ll get what’s coming to him, though. And if we line it up, right, we might just be able to do something like that again to put him down for good.” He called Tirn back over, giving the Shieldon a pat on the head before returning him to his ball as well.

Taking a deep breath, Heismay slowly picked himself up. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he could really begin to feel just how sore and tired he was. “Oof…after today, I ought to be put down for good myself.” He looked back toward Sector 3, where the sounds of battle could still be heard. “Let us check on the others. Then get out of here.”

Just a moment after their first round of kombat concluded, the two duelists moved to take up opposing positions on their shared stone stage. Purge stomped over to his spot, angry and eager to pay his opponent back for her unearned victory, his white-hot glare fixated on her as he gnashed his hands rotors together. Nadia, meanwhile, purposefully avoided his gaze as she waltzed over with her arms behind her head, her manner casual and carefree.

She was not, however, as lackadaisical as it might appear. Even though she’d won the first round by a decent margin, her opponent had proven that he wasn’t just some two-bit chump she didn’t need to try against. He was too heavily armed -pun intended- to be taken lightly. As nice as it would have been to have an easy-peasy first round, she wasn’t going to go easy on Purge, and to that end her mannerisms were as much a weapon as her claws. Her strategy was the same as always: get in her enemy’s head, get them to make mistakes, and take full advantage. All the while, she’d need to keep an eye on Purge himself. So far he’d been relying on his arsenal rather than any trained skills or mind games, but if the cyborg had more up his sleeve, Nadia would do what she did best: improvise.

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

“Tin Cans!” Once again, Nadia called out Robo-fortune to start the party with a beam assist, but this time her pink laser missed as Purge spun up his heli-pack and took to the skies immediately. He hovered forward, firing a barrage of fireballs down at the two catgirls. While Robo took a shot to the chrome dome, then made herself scarce, Nadia raced forward. Bursts of hissing flame followed in her footsteps as she crossed under Purge. She hesitated for a brief moment, not sure what to do from this odd angle, and in that split second of indecision, her foe decided to nip any attempted anti-airs in the bud. He dove straight down, his hand-rotors whirring beneath him like lawn mower blades. At the same time Nadia shot up with Charge, a skyward bolt of yellow lightning. The two fighters collided in midair, with the feral re-materializing as she got dunked to the floor, while Purge flipped up, then fell, unable to regain control.

Although winded, Nadia recovered fast enough to launch an attack as Purge plummeted. “Heads up!” She pulled off her head in a spray of blood, then hyperextended that arm upward for a remote headbutt. The blow popped Purge back up for a split second, allowing the catgirl to convert off the trade. Nadia dropped her head, then bumped it like a volleyball, which sent her head spinning in an arc like a flying sawblade. It caught Purge and hit multiple times, holding him aloft. “Skull’s out fur-ever!” A light Fiber Upper juggled the cyborg long enough for Nadia to snap up and flip forward after him, then continue the combo with Footloose, a kick followed by a hyper-extended knee. From there, she hurled him toward the ground with a heavy heel kick. “Anni-heel-ate!” From there she double jumped backward, then spiked her head down.

“Gaaagh!” Purge hit the deck and rolled to hit feet in time to block the head shot, but that still left the catgirl’s head worryingly close, and he remembered what happened last time his opponent got him in this situation. He looked up to see Nadia airdash toward him, propelled by streams of blood from her thigh seams, and revved up his rotors at max speed. A wall of air stalled her momentum, causing her jump-in claw slash to whiff, and the next second both she and her head flew backward in the wind.

“Wah! Blowhard!” Nadia flipped back and landed on her feet as Purge took advantage of the space he’d made to fire off two fireballs. The feral scooped up her head from where it landed at her feet, turned sideways to allow the fireballs to pass on either side of her slender profile, then rolled her head like a professional bowler. She ran after it on all fours, quickly closing the distance. Purge furrowed his brow, then executed a well-timed low kick to boot the catgirl’s head away. “Meowch!” He then pivoted around, borne slightly aloft by his heli-pack, and spun one hand-rotor behind him to throw out a surprise flying kick. His boot caught Nadia right in the sternum mid-dash, which made her eyes bug out. “PUH!” As she staggered, Purge landed and unleashed both flamethrowers in flailing serpentine streams, scattering gobs of burning fuel far and wide. With both her head and body caught in the inferno, Nadia took half again as much damage, and yowled in dismay.

The next moment her flame bath was over, and Nadia hit the floor only a few feet away from the water’s edge, her new outfit smoking. She quenched the residual flames with blood, then looked up to see Purge launch toward her in a whirling lariat, his flamethrowers at full throttle. Remembering that Fiber Upper couldn’t save her, she put up her guard and crouched-blocked the fiery lashes, her head safely behind her. When the lariat finally ended she sprang forward for a retaliatory slash, but Purge recovered fast enough to backdash, then engage his heli-pack to fly up and backward. As he loosed a couple fireballs to cover his retreat, Nadia gritted her teeth in a derisive smile. “You’re soar-ta annoyin’…” She ducked down with a spinning sweep, scooping up her head. As the fireballs flew past, she rose with Limber Up to kick her head into the air, then set it toward Purge like a volleyball. “But I’m not a soar loser!”

Blood blasted from her neck to shoot her head up at Purge like a missile, her hardened ears pressed together to form the point of a drill. “Hah!” The cyborg batted it aside with little effort, then fired up his flamethrowers for another bombing run. “Prepare…to BURN!”

Instead, Purge began to wobble in the air, his flight destabilized, and was forced to use his rotors to try and maintain control. Below, Robo-fortune had arrived, one arm extended up at Purge with a familiar metallic arch at its end. “Purr-manent magnet,” Robo declared as her magnetic field reached full power. Nyan-na-nyan-na-NYAN-NA-NYAN!

“Whoa…whoa-oa-oa!” Try as he might, the cyborg could not resist the magnet’s pull. He lost control and tumbled down toward the catgirls in freefall.

With a huge grin on her face as she popped her head back on, Nadia waited for a moment, then bounced Purge off the ground with an El Gato axe kick as her copycat pulled back. “Take a bow!” She picked him up with her low claw thrust Hand in Hand, then stabbed her ears into the ground to batter Purge with Wheel of Fortune. The repeated leg and tail strikes pulled her foe closer, just as planned, which gave Nadia the perfect chance to make up for her dropped combos earlier. In a spinning motion she regained her feet, then caught her foe with an upward gut punch–one of Ángel’s Unchain starters. “Gotcha!” She continued the Unchain combo with a high kick, uppercut, and wild sobat kick. Finally, exhilarated by her success, Nadia capped her combo off with an Unchain finisher: she snatched Purge out of the air, brought both knees up, then dropkicked him backward.

The cyborg yelled as he tumbled away, sliding perilously close to the water’s edge. He rose as soon as possible, but Nadia was already on him. “Ssapo!” The toothy biofreak, recovered at last from his combo breaker earlier, leaped in for a mighty ground pound.

Nadia, who’d forgotten about him, went wide-eyed and stopped to block high. She intercepted the brute’s limbs as he struck her on the way down, but when he actually hit the ground, Ssapo’s big mitts created a shockwave that struck her low. “WHAT!?” Her astonished cry turned into a grunt of pain as she got swept off her feet and hit the floor face-first. Still thrown for a loop, Nadia rolled backward and put up her guard, only for Purge to charge forward, going airborne, and hit her with a downward buzz cut. “Gah!” He immediately went to repeat his flamethrower thrash from earlier, so the catgirl called in her Kameo to combo break. “Get meowtta heeeere!” Robo-fortune arrived with a frantic burst of electricity that separated both fighters, leaving them neutral but Purge still by the edge. That would be the last time Nadia could call on Robo this match; she was now alone. “Run-up overhead?” Nadia spat. “Who does that!?”

“YOU did earlier!” Snarling, Purge leveled his flamethrowers, as Nadia rolled her head off her shoulders, then kneed it into the air. As it soared his way, Purge instinctively aimed upward, struck with indecision. Then he gave up entirely and blocked just in time as Nadia bolted forward with Charge, rematerializing in an electric shoulder bash. “Zappy birthday!” The impact of Nadia’s head the next instant made her Charge safe, so she jumped over Purge and his panicked jab. Recognizing the cross-up, he whipped around to block the other way, only for the catgirl to perform an aerial backdash and cross-slash him on the original side. “Get mixed!”

“GRAH!” Too close to the edge to take another combo, Purge brought in Ssapo to break for him again, which meant that both Kameos were benched. Nadia tumbled backward and rolled her feet with a smile on her face, feeling the momentum shift in her favor. Purge released another wind blast, but blocking significantly decreased the pushback, and when the cyborg took to the air for another bombing run, Nadia was ready. She dropped to the ground and fired off a heavy Fiber Upper behind her. “So long!” Of course her kick hit nothing but air, but snapping to her hyper-extended feet not only got away from the flames, but put her right in Purge’s path, and a double jump took her even higher.

As the cyborg stared up at her, eyes wide, she pulled off her tail and blasted out blood to plunge right into him. “Never say die-ve!” Nadia’s Feral Edge took both back down to the stage, though only the catgirl landed on her feet. An upward slash launched her foe backward, and he slammed down with a clang.

Grumbling through gritted teeth, Purge spotted Nadia rushing at him again as he rose, and did what any self-respecting fighter would do: yell uproariously as he launched a fiery reversal. In a moment of uncharacteristic restraint, however, the feral held off attacking in order to lean back and raise one knee. Purge’s slammed himself into her knee, leaving him stunned, and with a laugh Nadia finished her Blockbuster by throwing him to the ground, dashing over him twice, and dropping a spectacularly theatrical elbow straight to the groin, which somehow caused an explosion. BLAM!

The Heavenly Principles didn’t need to count down from ten; they knew that Purge was down for the count. MS FORTUNE WINS!

“Wooooohooooo!” Nadia cheered as she ran around, her arms held high in elation. She even over and hugged Robo-fortune, who only let out a fizzy electronic sigh. “Y’see that, Tin Cans? We did it!”

Robo didn’t seem impressed, but then again, she was probably never impressed. “That should have been much easier than it was,” she deadpanned. “It was only the first match, as well. Two more before we’re even out of pools.”

“Hey, a win’s a win!” Nadia looked around to see if anyone had been watching, but she saw no sign of Primrose, Annie, or anyone she recognized. There were only a couple spectators around period, and even those were only around because her first match had been spicier than most fighters. Well, no worries. The farther she got in the bracket, the more people would realize she was worth watching. “My comeback tour has only just begun!” With one final glance at Purge, who had yet to move despite Ssapo’s insistent poking, she and Robo vacated the arena for the next couple kombatants to move in.

---

As the two fighters squared up to begin the second round, Band took a brief moment to consider what he’d learned from the first. Rasputin seemed to be a zoner through and through, with a wide range of arcane projectiles, and thanks to those magic hands of his, his melee attacks had enough range to match the detective’s despite his smaller stature. Their first round had proved that getting in would be difficult for Band, but not impossible, and he had demonstrated that he could make his opponent pay dearly for it if he did manage to close the distance. This time, with Band more used to the sorcerer’s jump and projectile timing, the pressure would be on Rasputin to adjust.

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

Band began with a light Brass Knuckle, sliding forward a short way as he threw out a huge, mechanical fist. Rasputin simply walked backward, perhaps wary of impetuous action after seeing what Band could do, which resulted in him blocking the Brass Knuckle at max range. Technically the detective was minus, but only just, and with the distance involved Rasputin couldn’t run forward to catch his opponent with a magic hand fast enough. Band blocked for a couple seconds as Rasputin slapped, microwalked, and slapped again, but after a moment he walked a touch closer than usual and surprised Band with a grab instead. Somehow, the infamous Russian managed to manhandle all two and a half tons of Big Band and throw him to the ground, then speedily retreat.

Band picked himself up to see a fireball already on the way. “Oh boy…” He hopped to the side, then stepped forward as Rasputin hurled more fire his way. The two quickly fell into the same pattern as before, though this time, it was less of a chase and more of a dance. Approaching Rasputin was a thankless task, but Band pursued it patiently. He bided his time for a few moments, then as his opponent landed after tossing down a midair fireball, unleashed his Giant Step once again. This time the giant drum pedal shook the stage while Rasputin was winding up for a lightning spell, which knocked the spellcaster off his feet with a surprised cry.

Band charged forward without delay, not with a move but just by sliding across the ground, a stream of sound energy behind him. Still a short distance away, he jumped forward, then attempted an ear-ringing Cymbal Clash. It dealt a heavy blow to Rasputin’s guard, jolting him just strong enough that Band could land without fear of retaliation. Now only a few strides away, he launched forward to follow up, and his opponent didn’t dare to try and stop him. He stood firm to block, but didn’t notice in time that Band’s fist wasn’t closed, but open. This wasn’t a Brass Knuckle, but a light Take the A-train, the detective’s trusty command grab. He scooped Rasputin into the arm’s inner tube, then hammered him twice with the built-in, piledriver-esque trombone handslide. The third hit shot his opponent back out, and after flying a short distance Rasputin landed like a heap of dirty laundry.

Rather than press his advantage, Band deployed his bagpipes and began to play. The mixolydian melody of the chanter harmonized with the strident single notes of the drone reeds, creating an unmistakable sound that swept over the World Warrior pools and brought curious gazes from all directions. Rasputin bore a puzzle expression as he got to his feet, but he wasn’t about to waste this opportunity. “Ice ball!” He wound up, then hurled the frozen projectile at Band. The detective finished playing just in time to take the ice ball head-on, then remained frozen as Rasputin ran up. The magic man unleashed a barrage of slaps, each hand enchanted into a giant yellow mitt, then finished by twirling forward. His robe rose like a ballerina’s skirt, slicing into Band repeatedly as the fragments of ice fell away.

The detective stumbled backward, but he planted his foot and stayed standing. In front of him, Rasputin loosened his robe, then ran forward with his hands held out as if to embrace him. Band knew a grab when he saw one, so he jumped forward just in time, his feet barely clearing Rasputin’s head. The man doubled over as he grasped nothing but air, seemingly dejected. “How could you reject…” He whirled around, a giant yellow fist of magic formed. “My love!?”

His arcane punch landed a clean hit to his foe’s collarbone, but thanks to the armor from Bagpipe Blues, it barely slowed Band down as he unleashed Overblow. A giant tuba deployed from his undercarriage, prompting a wide-eyed look from Rasputin. “Oho!?” The tuba struck him, then blasted him, and the sound stun left him reeling.

Band had plenty of time to confirm with a saxophone uppercut, and after that he sounded out a string of punishing wind and percussion instruments. “Riot!” He capped off that performance with a resplendent Cymbal Clash that knocked Rasputin down. With that combo’s Sound Stun already used, Rasputin could recover on the ground, though by now the sorcerer was hurting for certain.

Band plowed forward to pursue his opponent with a heavy Brass Knuckle, canceled it into Emergency Break, and instantly ate Rasputin’s cossack kicks on wake-up. His weighty chassis hit the ground hard as he failed to tech, so by the time Band rose, Rasputin was on him. The Russian went for a throw, but being just out of range he flubbed the grab. Band had expected the throw, so when it whiffed his attempt to throw break missed also, which allowed Rasputin to take another quick step forward and actually throw him. “Baloney,” the detective grumbled.

His adversary jumped upward to hurl down a fireball, which trapped Band in blockstun long enough for Rasputin to start swinging. This time Band brushed the assault off with a pushblock that slid Rasputin backward. “So what?” Taken aback, the sorcerer’s latest magic slap whiffed and carried him off-balance. He recovered just in time to jump away from and narrowly avoid a medium Brass Knuckle, then empower his foot with the same yellow magic that he did with his hands. That foot landed a kick to Band’s head that knocked off his hat, but the detective’s armor kept him where he was, and Rasputin couldn’t do much other than toss another fireball as he leaped away. “Hmph!” Tired of the same old song and dance by now, Band parried the projectile with Noise Cancel. “Yeah!” The next second, he cannoned forward with another go at his medium Brass Knuckle and decked Rasputin with a giant fist to the face.

The man tumbled to a stop, bruised and breathing heavily. Band wasn’t exactly a spring chicken himself, but he was in much better shape than Rasputin, judging by those gasps. “Sounds like you’re just about played out, pal,” he declared.

Rasputin wiped blood from his lip as he narrowed his eyes. “Love…” He wound up for an electric pitch. “Conquers all!”

He hurled the thunderball forward. Band hopped to the side, then charged forward, his Brass Knuckle extended. In this state, his foe seemed too weary to dodge. Too easy.

That thought made alarm bells ring in his head, but it was too late. Rasputin’s body turned to stone, and Band’s mechanical arm smashed into it. The instruments made an awful sound as they crumpled, brass bits flying everywhere, and Rasputin promptly canceled into his other super, a full-force robe twirl that hit a half-dozen times. Band slid backward with a grunt, falling to one knee, and looked up to see Rasputin baring his upper body once more.

As his foe sprinted forward, Band sucked in his breath. “You ain’t got me!” Splurging all his Dramatic Tension, Band stomped the ground, deploying a wave of podiums. The podiums caught Rasputin in the act, buffeting him back before the last one launched him into the air. Each podium then opened up to reveal a trumpet, all of which took aim. “Strike up the band!” The instruments then began blasting out trumpet mutes in a brutal barrage, with Rasputin suspended in the air by the rubbery bombardment from below. After a few seconds, the podiums all receded, and the sorcerer hit the ground, not to rise.

BIG BAND WINS

The detective let out a heavy breath. “We have come to terms,” he declared as he turned away, reconfiguring into flight mode to leave the arena. “See you, space cowboy.” With that he rocketed up on a jet of sound energy, landed on a nearby walkway, and made his way toward the nearest rest area. One down, many to go.





As the Democrawler slowly disintegrated, its tentacles still feebly struggling, Eve slowly relaxed her fighting stance and allowed herself to breathe. Sandalphon, who was even more careful than her new ally, took longer to lower her hexagun’s barrel and stand up from her crouched firing stance. Though there was some interference from the leftover Naytiba biomass around the space station, her External Information Network picked up no signs of life from the Democrawler itself; it was well and truly dead.

With it out of the way, hopefully the rest of the organism up here would simply die off. In a perfect world the Seekers would go on to do their due diligence and erase all residual traces of the infestation themselves, much like how they exterminated the mutant carcasses in Krat Zoo, but Sandalphon couldn’t imagine the remnants posing much risk to anyone up here. All in all, despite this squad’s greatly reduced size, her excursion into space had gone much better than expected, especially considering that they’d faced an Alpha Naytiba. Sectonia had showcased the true destructive potential of her magic, but it was Ramattra who’d stolen the spotlight, serving as both powerhouse and protector. Of course, Eve had been no slouch either, and the amount of damage she dealt compared to Sectonia’s. Together, the four of them made for a small but elite force, and Sandalphon had triumphed. “Good work, everyone.” As Lily and Adam neared the group, untouched by the battle, the archangel brought out her gunstaff and began to cast Angelic Praise to patch everyone up.

It was about that time that a tremor shook not just the Central Core chamber, but the whole space station. Lily, already jogging the others’ way, looked around in apparent fear as she picked up the pace. “Eve!” she called, waving her arms frantically to get the swordfighter’s attention. “The Alpha signal, it’s all over the place!”

“What?” Eve’s brows furrowed together as she glanced back down at the Democrawler’s corpse. “We killed it, didn’t we? Although…” As Ramattra removed the monster’s spirit from its ashen remains, she could clearly see its prismatic light, but there was no sign of vivid red. Her brown eyes widened as she blinked a couple times in quick succession. “Where…is the Alpha Core?”

“Eve, behind you!”

She turned just as an enormous gray arm, not unlike the Democrawler’s, reached down from a huge lump of Naytiba biomass and snatched her in its grasp. As Sandalphon watched, stunned, the arm quickly slammed her against the floor and ceiling, then hurled her at one of the windows. The archangel’s visual calculus told her everything she needed to know about the imminent impact. Her pupils became empty rings as she turned to run. “Brace yourselves!”

Eve smashed into the glass. Cracks spread in an instant, and the whole window shattered, with Eve flying out into the vacuum of space. Alarms blared as the space station began to depressurize, rapidly venting atmosphere into the void. Lily, Adam, Sandalphon and Ramattra all lost their footing, which left only Sectonia able to maneuver.

The wasp queen acted quickly and strategically, prioritizing her most uniquely capable minions. As she flew away from the breach at top speed, headed for the entrance through which the Seekers arrived, she snatched both Sandalphon and Lily out of the air. Sandalphon grunted, winded by the sudden impact, but she was not content with being saved. The archangel cast out her left hand over Sectonia’s shoulder, her ergo strings reaching for Ramattra and Adam. She weather the excruciating sensation in her fingertips as the strings quickly extended to their greatest length, but they fell just short of Ramattra as he hurtled away. Sandalphon clenched her jaw, her pupils flashing stress marks, but quickly turned them to targeting reticles as she flicked them Adam’s way. Since he was much closer, the ergo strings made contact, but they failed to plug into his body.

Confusion and dismay crept into Sandalphon’s typically-blank expression as Adam got flung into space as well. Why could she connect to Eve, but not him? Were they not two of a kind? Two painful failures in quick succession, and possibly dooming both allies, left Sandalphon numb with shock. Over the roar of rushing air, she could just about hear Lily cry, “Adaaaaam! Eeeeeeeeve!” as Sectonia spirited them away through the access tunnel, and the lockdown doors slammed shut behind them.

A few seconds later and the three were back in the violet-coded atrium, where Sectonia released them. Both Sandalphon and Lily slumped to the floor, the former silent with blank eyes while the latter hurried to check her equipment. “They should be fine out there,” she announced, apropos of nothing, which elicited a bemused look from Sandalphon. “I mean, they don’t need to breathe, and they should be able to withstand the cold, yeah?” With no time to resolve Sandalphon’s confusion, she glanced down at her PDA. “I’m more worried about us. Something’s up with the station, the systems are all going critical. And the Alpha signal’s out of control!” She stood up, then beckoned to the other two as Sectonia helped Sandalphon to her feet. “I’ve got a route to the hangar. We’ve got to go!”

Sandalphon swallowed, then nodded. It was true that as a machine, Ramattra should be able to survive in space. If her hypothesis about Eve based on her ergo strings was true, she would be in the same boat, despite appearances. Logically that would go for Adam too, but her inability to connect to him contradicted that presupposition. She would just have to trust Lily, she guessed. While she could warp back down to the other Seekers right now, she didn’t want to leave until she could verify the others’ safety, so she breathed deep and took off running after Lily. If Sectonia consented to carrying them, they’d get there that much faster.

Outside, in the vacuum of space, Ramattra found himself battered by pieces of debris as he hurtled away from the orbital station. Fortunately he didn’t take much damage, and he did just get restored by Sandalphon’s miracle so survival wasn’t his problem right now. He didn’t need oxygen to live, and his only organic parts -those gained from his alchemist fusion- were more or less reanimated flesh already. Spinning around in freefall was very disoriented, but eventually he evened himself out. Not too far away, he managed to spot Eve in a similar situation, seemingly unharmed despite her perfectly human appearance. That wasn’t all he witnessed, though, as he turned his gaze back toward the space station and saw it from the outside for the first time.



Something truly colossal was clinging to the structure, practically engulfing it. From a tentacled trunk it has overgrown most of the orbital station like mold, and from the crown of its center mass sprouted four gargantuan, organic structures, crude facsimiles of angelic wings achieved through deliberate arrangement of mottled starfish arms and translucent jellyfish tentacles. From that central body, half a dozen enormous, bloodshot hazel eyes -unnervingly human- stared back at Ramattra and Eve.

“That’s…the real Alpha!” Eve whispered to herself, her voice silenced by the vacuum of space.

As the two continued to fall away, they began to pick up speed. At such a low orbit, gravity was still an issue, and at this rate it wouldn’t be long before the two hit the planet’s atmosphere. Space was survivable for them, but the enormous heat generated by reentry -upwards of three thousand degrees Fahrenheit- was another matter.

From the direction of the space station, something was shooting toward them. It was a crude, rather defunct-looking pink and white rocketship, with Lily in the forward cockpit piloting, and Sandalphon in the rear cockpit as ballast. Sectonia, who could breath in space herself, was clinging to its fins, since by now it was moving much faster than she could propel herself in space and still accelerating as it approached the freefallers. If they had a plan, though, the rocketeers could not communicate it without Adam’s drone or a link to Ramattra from Sandalphon’s sigil.

Sustained by a vague hope that Sectonia could grab the two before the rocket returned everyone to the space elevator, the trio continued to approach, until a radiant burst of what seemed like sunlight went off behind the Alpha Naytiba in the distance. Just after Sandalphon looked over, the monstrosity’s main eye ruptured, and out flew a golden streak of light. As the Alpha Naytiba began to die, its immense body turning to ash from the center outward, the light streaked toward the Seekers. As it approached, Sandalphon could more clearly see the what appeared to be an angelic knight about twelve feet tall, with three seraphic wings on its left side and three extra, spear-bearing arms on its right. Sandalphon stared, fascinated, until she realized that this being had no halo, and that its wings looked rather like the Alpha Naytiba’s. It raced closer and closer as the Seekers approached the planet, banishing its spears to reach out for Ramattra and Eve. Once it secured them, it wrapped the two in its wings, then began to heat up as it hit the atmosphere. Together, the unknown savior and the rocket descended into the night sky as two blazing comets, plunging through the high altitudes and finally back into the sea of clouds that blanketed the Frozen Highlands.

The rocket flipped around and fired its thrusters downward to slow down as it approached the surface, but the angel-thing descended as a meteor, barely able to decelerate before it slammed into the snow about half a mile from the rear exit of Spire 04. Once the rocket landed -its touchdown rough but survivable- Lily, Sectonia, and Sandalphon raced for the crash site. In the smoking crater, they found the angelic knight on its back. Its wings unfurled to reveal Eve and Ramattra, shaken but safe and sound. Finally, the tightness in Sandalphon’s chest could go slack as she allowed herself to relax. “Thank Ilia you’re alive,” she remarked. With a quick cast of her other healing miracle, Angelic Praise, everyone found themselves restored in a surge of spinning screens and divine circuit-runes.

Though Lily stared, wary, at the angelic knight, she could not help but notice that someone wasn’t here. “But…where’s Adam?”

The unknown being’s body began to glow, then dissolve into golden light. Sandalphon thought it was dying until she double-checked it with a quick scan, which revealed a familiar life signal beneath all the unidentified noise. “Interesting…”

When the light faded, a man was lying there. Though uncharacteristically shirtless, it was definitely Adam, although the three wings that dangled behind him as he sat up made it clear that he wasn’t quite the Adam that the Seekers knew. At the sight of him, Lily beat a hasty retreat, and even Eve seemed astonished. “A-adam? You’re…?”

“I know this is a disappointment. I’m sorry, Eve,” he told her, his tone remorseful. “About all this. I didn’t mean to deceive you. My desire is the same as it always was: for humanity to achieve a state of peaceful coexistence.” He looked away, toward the wings that hung at his side. “Yet…which one of us could be called human? The androids that wiped out humanity and claimed that title for themselves? Or the Naytibas, who threw away everything that made them human in order to survive?” He shook his head. “You have every right to be mad, but…will you hear me out?”

Eve looked over at Sandalphon and the others, who remained impassive, then back at Adam. She seemed angry, but after a moment she bit back her anger. “After everything, and since you saved us…I suppose it’s only fair.” She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes again. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

With a slow nod, Adam began. “The truth is…everything that has happened until now, and even before, it began with me. I am the source of it all.” He held his hand over his bare chest, trying to ignore the cold. “My real name is Raphael. Raphael Marks, the creator of Mother Sphere, and after the war, the first Naytiba. I…pioneered the genetic engineering that turned humanity from a few doomed survivors into an unstoppable species, at the cost of everything. All I ever wanted, from the very beginning, was for mankind to thrive and prosper. But we humans were weak and afraid. Unable to accept your kind. And that fear led to tragedy.” He closed his eyes. “Now…I want atonement. Forgiveness. For us to heal. Please know that everything I have done, I have done sincerely.”

Eve’s eyes narrowed. “And what is it you’re scheming?”

“I’ve been researching for decades to find a way to coexist,” Adam explained. “A way for us all to become inheritors of the human race. An Android-Eidos with the most advanced Unisonous Hyper Body ever seen, and the ultimate Naytiba that has not succumbed to its hostile instincts. These are the two necessary ingredients…together, we can create the seeds of a new, evolved human race.” He smiled, then looked somewhat sheepishly around at the Seekers. “But this is no concern of yours. You’ve done enough for us already…I thank you, and wish you safe travels on the path ahead. As for us…” He glanced at Lily, then settled on Eve. “The choice is yours. I will await your judgement. All I ask is your fair consideration.”

Sandalphon pursed her lips, glancing at her allies. “We should go,” she said softly, turning away. In the distance, the rest of the Seekers had just emerged from the Raphael Space Center rear exit with the stagecoach, all accounted for. She offered Eve a final wave of farewell, then turned to leave her and Adam to write the final chapter of their story for themselves.

A few minutes later, the two groups of Seekers reunited. It was even darker than before, and the scattered flakes had turned into sustained snowfall. Even if the medics had healed everyone’s wounds, everybody was tired from a long day of combat and travel. At the very least, judging by the burnt-out matchsticks on either side of the long road, they’d returned to the Midnight Walk. Moon Mountain loomed larger than before; if Sandalphon had to guess, the Seekers were halfway there.

Heismay peered in the direction of the smoking crater, unable to make out much of anything from this far away. He’d recovered his poison-spattered parka from the battle against the Skullheads, and though it smelled a bit, it didn’t seem to pose any danger. “Looks like you’re all in one piece,” he remarked offhandedly. “What of our new friends? See anything interesting?”

For a moment, Sandalphon just stared off into the cloudy sky, her pupils empty rings. “You have no idea.” Her gaze drifted downward to Moon Mountain, then to where the Midnight Walk disappeared into hilly woodland to the north of these expansive snowfields. “I think they’ll be fine, though. We should put some distance between ourselves and Spire 04, then look for somewhere to camp for the night.” With that, she circled around to enter the stagecoach, where a fresh pot of stew awaited her and the other Seekers. A few moments later, the Shieldrix took off running, and the expedition was underway once more.

When the tournament series officially began, Primrose lingered in the shade of a stone arch to watch the first round of Nadia's match. She knew the other woman was strong, so when she and her machine partner handily won against their opponents Primrose decided to give her some space. The Orsterran walked away, intending to make a quick loop around the Mortal Kombat section so that she'd end up about back where she started soon enough. As she went she glanced at other arenas floating in the Pools: a wobbling raft where two men fought, one with a brown hat, trench coat, and metal knuckles, the other with a wide brimmed cap, mask, and bandoliers; a small dirt mound like a miniature island where a tanned skinned woman with a scar over her nose and very short shorts on waited impatiently for an opponent that had yet to arrive.

The walk gave her some time to think, too. Meeting with Nadia had only been a little awkward, as it was clear to Primrose now what had happened last night. The feral blamed herself for the bombing and had high tailed it away as fast as possible, and obviously she felt that the rest of the Seekers were going to lay the blame on her as well. It wasn't a surprise to Primrose that her friend felt that way, and given the part of the opening ceremony announcement plainly stating who the perpetrator was it did clear up the reason it had happened. Whether it was the whole truth or some cover up for a larger design were thoughts that Primrose would leave to the group's detective types. For the dancer, her mind was made up - though Nadia had drawn the ire of this 'Kazuya,' it was he who'd drawn everyone else into his retaliation. She certainly wouldn't turn her back on Nadia just for that. It was hardly the first time trouble had found Primrose's group like this, whether here or in Orsterra. Though with the bounty put on the man now, it was hard to imagine he'd keep on going after Ms. Fortune.

Speaking of bounty, Primrose toyed with the idea of joining the hunt. With an apparent assassination attempt on one of the Four Kings already carried out she assumed their security would tighten up now, killing any plans she and Therion had been formulating about getting into their towers. A pleasure lady and a large wild cat would probably have made decent offerings for some of the Kings and might have slipped through before. Now, though? She wasn't so sure. But a meeting with the mysterious 'Heavenly Principles' was intriguing. People and Yokai in Esaka spoke of them in hushed tones, and if they had the authority to enforce specific rules within battles then they must wield some type of power.

Were the Heavenly Principles actually Esaka's elite though, including its Consuls, or were they a separate entity altogether? Were they sentient at all, even? The answers would be had by those who made good on that bounty.

Primrose reached up and tapped the pale gold pearl in her ear, speaking not to the group as a whole but on a private line.

"What do you think?" she asked.

For a few long moments there was no response. She figured her fellow Orsterran was still gathering his thoughts. The golden wind current that had carried the opening speeches had seemed to flow throughout the entire tier, and she could only assume that in a battle-crazed city like this it would have dispersed throughout all of Esaka - there was no way that Therion had missed the Kings' messages. However, as those moments stretched into minutes Primrose's brow furrowed and she tried again. "Therion?"

On the other end of the line the thief let out a breath. He had, of course, seen the announcements. Seen Esaka's Four Kings. Seen the Lady Consul... Consul B. She was nearly in the flesh, almost as though she'd been standing right in front of him - and it had taken him so suddenly to the memory of a dream of a memory, to lightning and blood.

Mostly though he was just a little embarrassed about startling out of the wind the carried the message in the middle of the gambling den, the few people that hadn't been watching giving him an odd look. Retreating to a private corner of the establishment, he'd taken some time to catch his breath and gather his thoughts. Finally, his voice came through the linkpearl to Primrose.

"It's her," he said. His tone was hard and inflection-less. Primrose parsed his meaning in a blink.

"It was inevitable that she'd come. It just happened to be sooner than later," she said. Luck did not appear to be on the Seekers' sides at the moment. Primrose glanced out over the far edge of the Pools Tier, past Esaka to the fields beyond it, already determining a quick escape route in case B turned the whole city against them.

Therion was of the same mind, murmuring in her ear about safe houses and strategy. Still, she recalled how he'd confided in her about his past life memory, and so after a moment she interrupted him with a softer voice. "Are you alright?"

He scoffed. "Of course. It's not the first time I've run into someone that's tried to kill me before."

Primrose couldn't see his face, but she remembered how he'd looked in the caves outside of Wellspring. The shock and hurt that shone in his eyes before he'd shut it down completely and told her, Ophilia, and the others to let him handle his old partner alone until Alfyn had convinced him otherwise. Primrose didn't expect Therion to be as troubled as that day, but there was no way that seeing B so 'close' hadn't affected him; she had done more than just try after all. The dancer played along for now, though. She could always corner him in person later.

"Of course," she echoed. By now her trek had taken her by another stage where a victorious pair of diminutive ladies, one more familiar to her than the other, were making their way back to the main walkway.

The one in purple raised one hand in greeting before glancing back to the blonde. “I’ll catch up to you at the next arena,” she said. “Looking forward to the next match.” The becrowned one said her own farewell before charging off, leaving the Seekers as alone with one another as they could be in a place like that. “Hey there. I recognize you from the Flats, but I was a little distracted during introductions yesterday.” She shoved the thought of why to the back of her mind as the dark knight looked more closely. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is something wrong?”

Since she'd waved, Primrose's attention had lingered on the lalafell. Primrose stopped her wandering, letting the shorter woman approach, her body language becoming more friendly even if she was a bit too late to shift her expression.

"When isn't there?" she replied with a wry little smile.

She caught herself then, dropping her hand from the pearl and resting it on her hip. 'Distracted' was certainly a word to describe the state the other woman had been in, but it was easy to forgive considering just what it was that she'd learned yesterday. "No need to overwhelm you, I'm sure you have your hands full with your tournament bouts. Congratulations, by the way."

After a moment the dancer inclined her head towards Yayama for a more proper greeting.

"I'm not sure that I introduced myself last night anyway. You can call me Primrose."

“Good to meet you properly, Primrose. I’m Yayama Yama, if you missed it. I won’t bother rattling off the titles again.” The lalafell shrugged. “It’s an adventurer's life to juggle multiple tasks at once, regardless of how exhausted she might be, so try not to worry too much about sharing. Speaking of sharing, however, are you in any of the tournaments? I didn’t have time to check the brackets for everyone.”

Primrose's smile, which had faded into a cordial expression, quirked up at the edges in genuine amusement. Yayama's forthright attitude when it came to her profession and taking on all kinds of problems made the dancer think that she would fit right in to their ragtag crew.

"Well then, I'll be sure to tell you all about the Consuls of this world if you haven't heard it already," she said. "I'm not participating in the tournaments, so I'm sure I'll have time to look into this area's while you all forge us a path. I'm not particularly built for these kinds of fights."

Though she'd said that, her physique suggested she did have some measure of physical strength even if it wasn't to the level of a true warrior... and there was also the polearm on her back. She went on, stating, "I'm a dancer by trade, so I'll leave all of the one on ones to you all. I only caught the tail end of your match, but I saw your strength last night too, though from outside."

“Well, maybe it means something a bit different where I’m from, but I know better than to ignore the potential of a dancer in a fight. The style does work best with a partner, though.” She shrugged. “Not that I think you should stop, by any means. I haven’t been caught up on these Consuls, either. Just got the basics of what’s happening. Hopefully the distraction won’t be enough to stop me from performing in this tournament; it’s even more important than I realized when I came to Esaka in the first place.”

"A partner... you're not wrong. Hm~ if I didn't know better I'd take that flirtatiously," Primrose replied, a teasing lilt to her voice as though she were testing Yayama a bit. And she was, as a way of getting to know the woman's personality a little better. The reaction to this type of teasing told Primrose a lot about a person.

But there were more important things to discuss, so she didn't linger on her test long. She glanced around the sparsely populated area, then gestured toward a fountain not far away. "Why don't we get a small change of scenery and then I'll fill you in?"

“I have a wife,” she said, rather flatly. A moment later, her expression fell. “Or. . . Well, you know.” [i]Very smooth. If you break down now though, it will only get in the way of our revenge. So keep it together, although we already know you're not exactly doing that.[i] Yayama abruptly seemed to glare to the side at nobody in particular before replying. “Yes, a change in scenery would be welcome.”

A married adventurer was certainly a surprise, but it wasn't something that Primrose was planning to poke fun at - especially after noting how the lalafell's face had shifted sadly. Though she couldn't imagine that kind of life for herself, it was easy to feel for the woman in front of her. Sympathy flickered over Primrose's features, but she didn't offer platitudes about how they would fix the world and reunite Yayama with her spouse. Perhaps they would find her wife somewhere along their adventures (it had apparently happened before for others after all), but if not... then when everything was over, their true selves would wake up from this endless dream regardless.

Primrose's eyes tracked the glare, but of this she said nothing as well; merely cataloging it with a raised brow before giving Yayama a short nod. She then led the way over to a two-tiered stone fountain gushing water, wide enough that they could sit on the edge without being in danger of getting soaked by the spray. It was far from that ornate fixtures one might find on the grounds of a mansion, but as a public installment in the city's water-filled tier, it was a pretty enough spot to watch a few matches from. There were even single zenny coins scattered at the bottom of the fountain, most likely from fighters wishing for luck in the Pools.

Primrose crossed one of her legs over the other when she sat down, casting a glance up towards Esaka's highest tier. She didn't think anyone was listening in on the two of them, but on the off chance that there was hopefully the sound of the fountain drowned out their voices. The lalafell clambered up next to her, evidently unbothered by the need to hoist herself up into her seat.

"When we ran into each other, Therion and I were discussing the Consul that stood besides the Kings in that message," she said after a moment. "He's the scruffy light haired fellow, half his face covered, cat ears. And she, in the red armor... is B. He'd apparently run into her in a past... cycle."

Though she didn't say it aloud, it was easy enough to infer that that particular meeting hadn't gone well.

"It wouldn't be a mistake to call the Consuls this world's ruling elite. They all seem to have powerful abilities and a separate form that they call Moebius... and they can command those still under Galeem's spell. Not to mention they are all cunning, conniving dastards." Her eyes glinted darkly with the last comment, suggesting personal experience. "A dangerous lot unbeholden to the rules everyone else is subject to that we'll need to keep an eye on."

“Sounds familiar,” Yayama said. “I remember fighting a group called the Ascians. Ancient immortals with knowledge far beyond anyone alive, plotting the reawakening of the dark god across the ages. Hard to outwit, even harder to kill. It’s a miracle we ever won.” She didn’t sound particularly happy about that, despite the context. “Wouldn’t be the first time facing a foe that can turn the populace against us, either.” Her eye flicked around the area, checking for hidden observers.

“Is there anything I should be doing yet? Signs I should be watching for?” She pressed onward in the conversation, not giving herself enough time to dwell on her memories. “I assume it’s too early to be overt about any actions we take, as much as I’d love to start introducing these people to Shadowbringer.”

Good questions, the answers to which unfortunately Primrose herself wasn't well suited to answer.

"Ascians, hm? I've not heard of them, but it does sound similar... as for the Consuls, I haven't seen them act remotely before. It leads me to believe they have to be nearby in order to use their power, so just keep an eye out. If you're cornered, don't trust anything they might say. Though hopefully it won't come down to that." She leaned forward slightly, touching a finger to the side of her face as she thought on what other information she could provide. Though, curiously, she asked, "...'Shadowbringer'?"

“My sword. The name’s related to why I call myself the Warrior of Darkness. It’s also a voidsent bound to my soul named Churro.” Primrose felt a distinct sense of annoyance radiating from the blade, currently resting on the side of the fountain next to Yayama. “He’s nicer than he sounds.” Another pulse of irritation. “It’s a very long story. If you’ve ever got, say, six hours to kill, I’ll tell you it sometime.” The lalafell sighed. “‘Course, It’s not exactly all a happy story, either. Seems like I’m not destined to live through any of those.”

Primrose shifted so that she could rest her chin in her hand with her elbow propped up on her knee. She tipped her head slightly, her expression somewhere between a grimace and an ironic smile. "You're not alone there. A girl can dream, though."

Her gaze drifted back over to the apparently sentient sword. She could more or less puzzle out what a 'voidsent' was just from its name, even though its actual name was rather cute. That combined with the dark imagery gave the dancer the impression that Yayama may have dabbled in some sort of dark sorcery, the kind of magics that would have been forbidden in her own world. Still, she didn't seem like a crazy mage yet, and if she had a handle on her demon then who was Primrose to question her? ...but she would keep it in mind all the same.

"Well, sometime I might like to hear it," Primrose replied, a rain check for another day. Then her expression softened a little. "Of if you'd like to talk about your wife, I'd like to hear about her too."

After a beat she added, "perhaps when all of this isn't so fresh, and you don't have deadly tournament bouts to concern yourself with. Shall we head back before your next match?"

“Sure.” Yayama nodded, immediately sliding out of her seat, motivated by an eagerness to escape the thoughts nipping at the edges of her mind. “Here’s hoping my next foe is about as challenging as the last. I’m not afraid of a challenge, but I’d rather face one on a full night of sleep.” She grimaced at the thought of the previous night; the events were also upsetting, but on a much less personal level. Still, she squared her jaw, propped her sword on her shoulder, and set forth as she always had.

Since they hadn't actually gone very far it took no time at all to end up back among the competitors of Mortal Kombat awaiting their turns on one of the water bound battle stages. There were plenty of bracket boards around that made finding the next locations for any given match a simple thing. Along the way Primrose was content to chat with Yayama about less serious matters, but she did not accompany the lalafell to her next bout. There was a certain cat burglar whose last round she was still hoping to catch, or at least catch the woman herself before she disappeared again.

@Lugubrious

Harry Dubois

𝒦𝒾𝓂 𝒦𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾

Word Count:
Level: Lv: 6 EXP: (3/60)
Lv: 4 EXP: (5/40)
Location: Esaka’s Middle Tier - Pool Arena Round 1.

Harry took the time before his first match to relax and recuperate from his last fight. Sitting on a bench in what looked like a locker room. The strange doctor he had met before in Dan-Sensei’s dojo was fixing his injured hands. “Tsk tsk, I thought you would be more careful, Harry. Next time you need to take care not to cripple yourself before your next fight.” A sentiment that Harry understood, but thought he would be okay if his knuckles were a bit bloodied.

Dr.Faust wrapped Harry’s hands with some bandages after putting some strange ointment on them. It stung at first, but after a while, he felt the pain of his knuckles quickly subsiding. ”Thanks, doc. I’ll keep that in mind next for my next tussle.” Harry said while gently rubbing one of his bandaged hands. He knew his next opponent was a tough customer. Bob Wilson was the guy’s name. And according to what he was told, Kim was a master of Capoeira. He would have to be careful when fighting him.

Harry soon found himself standing before another pool-like arena. This would be another challenge that he would need to overcome. Nevertheless, he got onto the platform that was in the middle of one of the pools. Noticing his opponent, Bob got onto the platform shortly after.

“Nice to see ya. I wish ya the best of luck. Let’s see whatcha got.” Harry said while bowing to Bob.

“Same to you too bud.” Bob bowed as well, but kept his eyes on Harry the whole time. The Heavenly Principle soon signalled that the first round had begun. And Bob quickly closed the distance between them. Moving quicker than Combot, Harry didn’t have time to put up his dukes. Bob performed a few handstand kicks to Harry’s face and upper body. Most of his attacks seemed to land, with Harry only barely blocking a few of his kicks.

Bob tried to deliver another kick to Harry's midsection, but Harry caught it, surprising Bob. Harry tried to throw him into the water, but Bob was quick and stopped himself from going over the edge. Bob changed his trajectory and launched himself towards Harry. A kick that sent Harry flying backwards and towards the edge of the arena. The next thing he knew, he was under the water, and Bob was declared the winner of the first round. Bob helped Harry back onto the arena as the second round started.

===========================================================

Kim’s match was just about to begin. He felt unsure of his own safety, considering his opponent was armed with a sword. A thought came to him about whether it would be allowed for him to have his own weapon. And when he asked his question, it was not answered by the Heavenly Principle. An annoyance, but Kim had his gun on him in case he needed to use it. Fixing his glasses that were taped together because of his last fight.

As soon as the first round started, Kim tried dodging the skeleton’s sword. His clothes were slashed each time he tried to dodge them. With each missed slash of its sword, Kim would react by giving the skeleton a few quick kicks to the side. This seemed to cause some damage to the skeleton. But mostly, the kicks made Spinal quite angry. Spinal started swinging furiously at Kim, who was barely dodging his sword and sometimes hitting Kim, cutting his clothes and his skin underneath. But Kim would respond by punching or kicking Spinal. Kim wanted to end this as soon as possible. So he grabbed Spinal’s hand, holding his sword and tried to apply an armbar hold. But Spinal was not too keen on letting this happen. He slammed his shield into Kim’s face, causing the detective to stumble backwards.

Spinal quickly moved to try to end the fight. Swinging his sword towards Kim’s midsection. Luckily, Kim was able to dodge the attack after a brief moment of discombobulation. As he was avoiding the skeleton’s attack, he was getting closer to the edge of the arena. Kim dodged the skeleton’s shield attack and pushed Spinal into the water below. Kim had taken the first round and hoped to win the second.

After Yayama and Primrose went their separate ways, the former met up with her fellow diminutive knight at the stage for their next bout. She was grateful for the distractions that the crowds provided; weaving through people’s knees without annihilating any shins or thighs with her sword by mistake took enough focus that her mind couldn’t wander back to topics best left off the field. Similarly, her match coming up so soon after her previous one was ideal. A later one meant that she’d have to contend with ever-increasing fatigue through the day first, not to mention needing to warm up again. Shouldering her way forward, Yayama stepped out past the crowd and onto the stage, just a few minutes before her next match was set to begin.

It was another minute before she spotted an unusual figure lumbering along one of the nearby wooden walkways, the timber straining and creaking with every step as bystanders shifted out of the stranger’s way. Improbably muscular men, the sort who made even male Au Ra look like shrimps, were rather common in Esaka, so even new arrivals tended to get desensitized to the sight fairly quickly. Every so often, though, there came along a specimen of such outrageous proportions that he was beefy even by Esaka standards, and this appeared to be one of them. The absolute gorilla of a man, with trunklike limbs and enormous hands, was bare except for bits of hide and bladed armor draped across his form. Red eyes shone from inside the scrap of red cloth that veiled his face, and he seemed to be headed Yayama’s way. As he got closer, though, she could make out one more interesting detail: a diminutive figure riding on the brute’s back, clothed in a similarly aggressive fashion and armed with two-clawed gauntlets.

“There they are!” Yelled the little one in shrill, snarly voice as she tapped at her mount’s shoulders, then pointed at Yayama and Charlotte. “Move, Torr!” The hulking man beneath her obeyed without question. He approached the stage for the two teams’ imminent kombat, leaping down onto the long, narrow arena elevated just above the water’s surface by two rows of trapezoidal stone wedges. Thin as it was, the platform shook slightly beneath the weight of the duo known as Ferra/Torr. Once he came to a stop, his rider leaned over his broad shoulders, smirking at the opposition. “Hah! Enemies even littler than me is! This easy for we - maybe more easier than stupid undie-pants man last round!”

Yayama looked the duo up and down, assessing the mass of muscle and the brains running the operation. After her analysis, she declared a resounding “Eh” as she hefted her sword. “Fought bigger. Of course, I know better than to judge the amount of fight in someone by how tall they are.” The dark knight held her sword off to one side to free up her left hand. She pointed it at Torr, then crooked one finger in a “come at me” gesture. “Let’s see what you’ve actually got.”

The dark knight waited for the Principles to call the start of the match proper. Of course, she wasn’t planning on charging in immediately; in fact, that was what she was hoping her foes would do, with the rider seeming lulled into a false sense of security by her stature. She watched both Ferra and Torr for signs of an incoming attack, not wanting to let the small one return the favor Yayama was about to do the pair.

With little sense for what the kombatants might call ‘dramatic timing’, it took a few more moments for the Heavenly Principles to take action. A nasty, expectant grin spread across Ferra’s face when golden light finally welled up from the arena’s surface. ROUND ONE: FIGHT!

“Haaaaah!” The second the battle began, Torr reached up, grabbed Ferra off his back, and hurled her through the air. Her bladed claws gleamed in the morning light as she flew in a high arc, flipping fast enough to resemble a large buzz saw. At the same time, Torr ran forward a few steps, then slowed to a stop as he reached melee range, the reach of his burly, long arms much larger then Yayama’s. He did not attack immediately, but waited to see what would come of his human projectile, ready to pile on. It was a decent opening gambit to apply offensive pressure, somehow achieved without the use of any communication that the Lalafell could identify.

Yayama brought her greatsword up defensively, forming an improvised rampart between herself and the whirling blades before they struck. She stepped backward as she blocked, not wanting to open herself up to a potential grab from the giant this early in the fight. Once Ferra exhausted her momentum, the dark knight launched a quick thrust forward with her blade, aiming to catch the next assault before it began with its deceptively long reach.

With an annoyed grunt, Ferra bounced off her opponent’s guard and grabbed onto Torr’s shoulders as she sailed away, resuming her normal place. Torr crouched down as Yayama’s thrust jabbed toward him, his armored shins and forearms a strong bulwark as he blocked. Once her blade’s tip glanced off his metal braces, the brute tried a couple lumbering swats of his own. She easily spaced the attack out, deftly hopping backward such that Torr’s arms swung through the air just inches away from her.

Yayama began her reprisal with a leaping, overhead slash, collapsing the distance between the two at once with a plunging blow. The maneuver was risky, leaving her exposed in the short time between the start of her leap and the beginning of the actual strike, but the sudden close caught her foe off guard. A loud clang sounded as her blow struck home, followed by a metallic thump as she drove her armored elbow into Torr’s head. In the additional air time landing the hit gave her, she unleashed a wide slash angled down toward her opponent, striking once more before her feet touched the ground.

Although the Dark Knight could still reliably land combos on her target despite his size, Torr’s weight -and the fact that he hadn’t been juggled yet- did factor into what hits could link into one another. In the midst of Yayama’s descending slash, the brute recovered just fast enough to block. She landed the next second of course, ready to stuff any swings he might attempt with a much faster attack of her own, but rather than deal with the pressure Torr simply leaped up and back.

The next moment he was out of range, or so it seemed, for once again he grabbed Ferra off his back. With one massive mitt clamped around her interlocked hands, he swung his straight arm in a downward arc, nearly doubling his range. His overhead’s reach managed to take Yayama by surprise as it bounced her off the ground, giving Torr the moment he needed to dash forward once, then land a couple slugs, the last of which knocked Yayama up and out of his reach. It was then that Ferra interceded, stabbing Torr with her claws. “No pain, no gain!” The sharp jab not only angered Torr to boost his damage slightly, but jolted him out of his recovery, allowing him to dash forward again sooner than he would have been able to otherwise. It wasn’t enough to continue the combo, but it allowed him to get right on top of Yayama after she landed, at which point he went for a grab.

What Ferra didn’t anticipate was Yayama calling for her assist. Torr landed his grab, but before he could actually do anything, Charlotta appeared and hit the giant with a series of three rapid slashes before disappearing. Dropped from the impact, Yayama was now free to jab him twice in the gut before ramming a shoulder into him and following with a horizontal swipe of her blade. Living up to one of her many titles, her assault was unrelenting; it continued with an Edge of Darkness, a swift and harsh downward slash that wreathed her blade in roiling, purple-and-red aether. She completed her combo with a thrust, chained into an uppercut, chained into another downward chop before she kicked Torr away from herself.

Wanting to capitalize on her advantage, she closed the gap with another plunging slash. It missed Torr, but put Yayama within her blade’s reach as the brute was standing up. She aimed another long thrust at him in an attempt to stop the duo from responding with anything but a desperate defense.

By now, both her opponents had gotten a taste of the alarming power their pint-sized opponent wielded. Once Torr fell prey to her combo, Ferra fell off him and went sprawling on the ground. Even once she got up, she didn’t dare try to attack Yayama on her own, but instead darted back and forth in a panic. The moment Yayama’s kick rolled him away, though, she made a beeline for Torr and climbed back onto his shoulders. With their foe already stabbing at them, the pair had no time to breath, but they did have one defensive option the Lalafell hadn’t seen yet. Torr let loose an armored command grab, shrugging off Yayama’s thrust in order to snatch her like a ratshaker rat. When he held her up, Ferra hopped onto her partner’s arms in order to puncture Yayama with her claws. After two jabs, she jumped back, and Torr turned and tossed his foe away. She fell just short of a ring-out, her boots just a few feet away from the water’s edge, as Torr lumbered forward.

The dark knight dragged herself back to her feet, using her sword to push against the ground. “You scratched my bloody paint, you runt,” she growled as she held one hand palm up, charging a Jolt. Yayama waited for Torr to get a bit closer before she put her plan into action. A few more steps, and she threw the gathered aether at him; under the Principles, it zipped out to a fixed distance then burst. The attack was easy to block, but while it flew, Yayama darted forward. She swept her sword low across the ground, slashing at Torr’s ankles, then followed with another Edge of Darkness overhead. Rather than continue, however, she deployed the secret weapon of all lalafells: her jump.

Her leap took her over Torr entirely. She delayed until just before the apex of her jump, kicked at Ferra to force her steed to block, then fired her Dualcast second spell directly at the ground. The Impact exploded in a burst of dust, launching Torr a perilous distance in the direction he’d previously thrown Yayama. She sprinted after him, then threw a vicious shoulder check as a follow-up; the angle was awkward, but the hit was enough to send the duo skidding off the edge of the arena and into the water below.

YAYAMA WINS, declared the Heavenly Principles as the brute thrashed in the water. Ferra, who’d landed on the stage by the edge, whirled toward Yayama with a snarl on her face. “Pushing Torr out bounds is cheating, no fair! Only weakling needs water!” She kept her distance, though, and when Torr floundered over to haul himself up, Ferra leaned over the edge to try and help him. Of course, Torr did all the work, which left him arguably more winded than the fight itself. Once back on the stage, he replaced Ferra on his back, then stomped over to a position opposite Yayama, growling unintelligibly under his breath.

These two were definitely an odd duo, and not just because the main fighter seemed to be subservient to his rider. Throughout the first round, Ferra had involved herself constantly, much more than it seemed a Kameo fighter should be able to, and yet the Principles did not intervene. Whatever they technically were, these two were an exception to the established format. Once Torr shook himself off like a stray dog, Yayama’s opponents were ready again. Due to the ring out, Torr wasn’t especially wounded, so he’d have plenty of energy for the next bout.

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

This time, Torr seized Ferra and slung her underhand like a bowling ball across the floor toward the dark knight in a high speed slide kick. He followed after his rider with an armored shoulder charge, tough enough to soak up one hit and probably big enough to catch Yayama even if she jumped. The twin assault left the dark knight with little choice; she planted her feet and prepared her guard, crouching to get as much of herself hidden behind steel as she could manage before Ferra and her thundering giant slammed into her. She grunted with the blow, the hit hurting even through her iron defense.

While Ferra scrambled to climb back atop her partner, Torr pressed his advantage to beat against Yayama’s block and see just how sturdy she really was. He swung his arms twice, then launched a knee. At that point, Ferra interrupted him with a stab that boosted his damage, at the cost of some more of his vitality. “Pain and gain!” In that brief moment he shone yellow, betraying his momentary armored state, and afterward he continued to attack. Once again Ferra jabbed him. “Pain and gain!” Then Torr tried to grab Yayama once more.

Not wanting to be manhandled again, and starting to get familiar with how Ferra and Torr fought, Yayama took the brief opening the duo’s little ritual gave her to hop back, keeping as low as she could such that the giant’s arms went over her head. Making no assumptions about her foe’s capabilities, she threw out a long thrust of her blade once again to make it difficult to follow up, but made no attempt to convert it into further damage on the off chance Torr simply powered through while she recovered.

The thrust landed the moment after Torr’s clutching hands grasped nothing, and it elicited a grunt of pain. He stepped back, then hopped forward to perform a double overhead smash, just high enough to clear and then crush low attacks. Once more, the lalafell matched his distance, swiftly stepping backward as he wound up his strike.

Aware of her increasingly perilous proximity to the edge of the ring, Yayama knew she needed to do more than defend and poke. That, and a part of her was begging to be let off its leash. There was an almost palpable shift in her demeanor as she wound up her blade for a punishing strike. “Now you’ll see why they call me the Warrior of Darkness!” The dark knight swung Shadowbringer like it was an oversized baseball bat and Torr was a fastball thrown dead center.

The attack would normally have been risky, with a long windup and leaving Yayama wide open once it finished. What she had, however, was her greatest asset: teamwork. As Ferra spurred her steed forward to exploit this obvious opening, a war cry and a swift triple strike of another blade met his legs. The final hit landed just in time for the arena to ring with the sound of Yayama’s greatsword crashing into Torr with full force, sending the giant careening away toward his own edge of their stage. The lalafell sprinted forward, winding up another sweeping blow - this time an uppercut - without fear of reprisal. She just managed to catch the duo on the tip of her blade before they landed, stopping them from hitting the ground and recovering for another precious instant.

“This ends now!” Two voices called out in unison, as Charlotta came in for another assist. Her whirling charge turned that instant into a second, giving Yayama enough time to land another plunging blow. Torr bounced against the ground, into another “EDGE OF DARKNESS!” that she called out loud. She swiped her blade low, then made another, shorter uppercut, following her foe into the air as the dark knight continued to juggle her foe. Leaping past him, she threw an aerial punch, followed by her flying elbow, followed by a downward cut covering a wide arc below her. By this point, her repeated strikes had worn out her ability to follow, so as Torr flew back toward the center, Yayama landed and began to charge a full-fledged Impact in case that wasn’t enough.

Torr hit the ground and rolled on his back to his feet, while Ferra tumbled sideways in front of him. “Ugh-guh-huh!” Her mount looked down at her, then up at Yayama as she charged her ability. Even winded and separated, the symbiotic duo were of one mind. Torr grabbed Ferra, tucked her under one against his chest, and charged like a linebacker. Yayama’s Impact struck him head-on, and for a precarious second his armored tackle seemed liable to power through the attack, but just before reaching the lalafell Torr slumped to his knees and skidded, headfirst, to a stop at her feet. Ultimately, he didn’t have enough vitality to make use of his armor, so the gruesome twosome were down for the count.

YAYAMA YAMA WINS!
“Hells yeah! I’ve still got it!” Yayama called triumphantly, posing with her sword once more. After a moment of this, the thrill of the fight started to wear off, and she turned to her downed opponent. “Good match, you two,” she said diplomatically, despite the little one’s poor sportsmanship earlier. She offered a hand for assistance, ignoring the size disparity between her and the one who would be doing most of the getting up.

Ferra, though partially trapped under Torr’s limp weight, was the much more conscious of the two. “Pah!” With a dismissive noise she batted away Yayama’s hand, then continued to try and pull herself loose. “Urk! Move, big ugly! Let Ferra out!”

Yayama rolled her eyes. “Pride doesn’t look as good on the loser.” She ignored Ferra’s swat, circling around Torr a bit until she had a decent place to grab on and roll the enormous man off his partner. That accomplished, she channeled a spell for a moment, then cast two in quick succession: a Vercure to patch up the worst of the damage Ferra had suffered, and a Verraise to rouse Torr back to full consciousness and functionality. Without another word, she turned and began to walk off the stage.

Thoroughly baffled by, and more than a little suspicious of, Yayama’s actions, Ferra could only watch the winner leave until Torr stirred. “Torr!” She then climbed up onto him as he rose to his full height, putting a hand to his head. Then both spent a moment gawking at Yayama, very much unused to such sportsmanship, especially shown to them. Ferra’s face tightened as she looked away. “Grr, okay. Now we in Losers. Gotta fight harder. Smarter. Ferra not want Torr die.”

The brute grumbled in agreement, and the pair turned to head off and find a bulletin board in order to learn the particulars of their next, far more dangerous match, as well as someone who could read their listing for them.

Here’s hoping they remember that, Yayama thought to herself as she watched the two amble off. I sincerely hope I didn’t just set them up to die.

They were clearly murderers anyways. Why concern yourself with their fate?

Because that’s what we do. Shoving the other presence to the back of her mind, Yayama turned to Charlotta. The two bid one another farewell for the day, agreeing on a meeting place that would hopefully result in less public embarrassment for one of them - no names specified of course - before going their separate ways. “I need a gods-damned nap,” Yayama grumbled to herself as Charlotta left.

Despite everything else, she had her life, a purpose, and success in that purpose so far. She’d just have to content herself with that.

---

From the beginning of accepting this adventure to help Adam and Eve destroy the Alpha Naytiba, Ramattra was not expecting an easy return to the surface of Galeem’s fabricated world. In fact, the entire intention behind asking Mokou to borrow her oddly-shaped space apparatus was in the event that there was an emergency that expelled Ramattra into space. Fortunately, the second Ramattra had heard of the alerts of the Alpha Naytiba all around the peak of the space station, he rushed to the center of the arena, snatched the fading spirit of the Democrawler for himself, then hightailed it to the outside of the armory, where he temporarily stored the Space Suit, and quickly collected it so that he may equip it in an emergency.

He returned to the company of his allies just as the last sequence of events was underway. Part of the Omnic was disappointed he hadn’t taken the chance to search through the abandoned armory for valuable resources, but quickly realized he was correct to trust his own intuition. The Space Station was being torn apart by the true Alpha Naytiba, and the Democrawler they had defeated was merely one of its many pawns. Ramattra didn’t even have time to equip the Space Suit before being swept off his feet into the vacuum of space almost immediately.

While animated by the weightlessness around him, Ramattra tried his best to make out what was happening around him. Between trying to stabilize himself and keeping his circuits calm under pressure, the whole ordeal was quite a flash in his memory bank, but it would be nearly impossible to forget the grandiose view above the surface of the world, along with the ginormous watcher nearby, who was swiftly dealt with by Adam, who unveiled his secret identity as Raphael Marks.

---

The normally stoic Omnic returned to the surface shaken and slightly battered from space debris. Hearing the explanation offered by Raphael earned an ironic harumph from Ramattra, who found humor in the man-made god’s performance, declaring his wishes for atonement. The Omnic kept his thoughts to himself, not wanting to make enemies or begin any arguments after such a long and exhausting travel. It was incredibly clear, though; Ramattra’s opinion on Raphael was extremely negative, especially for a human.

The first thing Ramattra wanted to do for the evening before settling down for the evening was to return the Space Suit he borrowed back to Mokou. With a curt nod, the Omnic set it down before her. “Thank you for lending this to me. It is in the same condition you loaned it to me in.” No other words were exchanged between the two, as Ramattra left her company just as quickly as he had entered it.

The rest of what he wanted to get finished for the day, he thought, would be best to finish in the safety and debatable comfort of the Stagecoach. He sat for a moment in the chair that Sandaphlon normally operated on, relaxing his worn circuits for only a moment before quickly getting to work. His main objective was finding purposes and homes for the Spirits he had collected, which totaled lots and lots of spirits from Moas, Ospreys, and Sentryborgs, plus one Democrawler Spirit.

A glance at the armory confirmed that they had indeed not collected any resources from similar spirits yet, so rather than run the risk of gaining abilities with niche purposes, he decided that fluffing the armory up some couldn't hurt. "Now, If I can recall, Edward had shown me like..."Setting aside the more notable spirit from the Democrawler he had just fought, Ramattra formed his mechanical hands around the large clump of minor spirits, crushing them all into a small pile of weapons and loot! "This!"



Ramattra examined the odd collection of items, most of which were biological in origin. With much of what was created looking like it was still alive, The Omnic examined it carefully from an arm’s length before deciding to handle anything. Ramattra was no scientist or engineer, so many of the crafting materials true value was not immediately apparent to him, so they were quickly set aside in the Armory. The items that earned the most attention from him were the weapons and tools. "It would be nice if I knew what this nonsense was." He muttered to himself.

While the Smart Gun appeared to be a highly valuable weapon, Ramattra had not used a firearm in such a long time that his effectiveness with it would be amateur. He thought that, perhaps, it would be better in the hands of a marksman like Sandaphlon or Ed, or at the very least somebody who could shoot a gun. Though the Vengeful Strike mod sounded good on paper, Ramattra didn’t have any melee weapons other than the Buckler, which didn’t provide much outside of its ability. With plenty of swordsmen to make better effectiveness of the modification, Ramattra put both the Smart Gun and Vengeful Strike in the armory with the materials.

One item is now laid before him on the table, The Grotesque Widget, which, according to its description, could be quite valuable. Its boundaries of use would need to be tested, and with only twenty charges, its use would be limited. Ramattra held onto the item, convinced an item like such would be most effective in the hands of a tactician.

Happy with the haul from the common spirits, the Omnic now turned to the spirit of the Democrawler they had just defeated. One thing Ramattra was convinced about in this odd new world was that you can’t be afraid to turn into a monster in order to acquire strength… Or maybe the Alchemist Spirit he fused with earlier had just dampened his intuition. Either way, he knew absorbing major spirits like this would grant him quite the bonus, or he could play it on the safer side and equip the Democrawler as a Striker, like Edward had explained to him.

It took Ramattra quite some time to contemplate what to do with this spirit. Of course, the Democrawler had proven itself quite formidable in strength in ability, but would it be worth a permanent change? Or would the limitations of Strikers weaken the once-impressive feats the monster had displayed? He grabbed the spirit in the stretched-out metallic digits and began to exit the Stagecoach. “If I must become a monster to survive this world, then so be it.” He muttered to himself before absorbing the fading energy from the spirit while walking alongside the Coach.



Ramattra immediately took notice of his lack of an arm, which he honestly expected, given The Democrawler’s lack of any as well, though he stumbled awkwardly for a moment getting used to the feeling of having one leg too many. The tentacle-like appendages that now made up his upper and lower torso definitely helped him balance forward at the very least, but it seemed their use was limited since they weren’t jointed. While the lack of a second arm would definitely prove to be a hindrance, Ramattra made a mental note that he could get his arm replaced if he was lucky or could find a way to undo the spirit fusion. "Tsk-. That wretched thing made my body all sorts of out of order."

Suddenly, as if instinctively, Ramattra felt an itch buried deep in his chassis, specifically the fleshiest parts of his body. "No matter." The Omnic reached between a loose intersection of flesh and amalgamated metal in his chest with his only free hand, and began to clutch a heavy-bladed sword, which, as unsheathed from his core, revealed a large scimitar blade, which would’ve been unwieldy if Ramattra weren’t large and bulky.

He waved the blade around for a moment in Omnic form, feeling its weight sitting awkwardly in his hand. Ramattra was not programmed nor proficient in sword fighting. In his hands at the current moment, the blade was clumsy and without method. If he wasn’t keen on learning how to best utilize this new extension of himself, he would be put off at the idea of learning how to fight with a sword. "Aha! A weapon? How curious."

He retired the sword into the mysterious cavity it was found within. The Omnic found it peculiar that the blade seemed to be a connected part of him rather than a separate weapon, but found the idea of having a guaranteed weapon at all times somewhat reassuring.

Then a second thought crossed Ramattra’s mind; was this spirit impacted by his Nemesis form? A quick test was all that was needed, so he transformed his configuration, the draping flesh tendrils over his abdomen staying the same size regardless of his change in shape. Ramattra seemed disappointed for a moment as this likely meant that his thought was wishful thinking, however revealing the blade again showed that it had nearly doubled in size, being even more unwieldy then before- with only Ramattra’s brutish strength making it possible to lift and swing.

The Omnic was- in the present- happy with the results of his fusion and had his new intentions now to learn how to most effectively control his blade. At his current skill level, he would be no better then the Democrawler. He returned it within his chassis and converted back to Omnic form. Ramattra noticed some of his anger and resentment he set aside for this long quest he has accepted to return to his world, which he knew immediately was caused by his fusion as well.

Remembering his hatred towards humanity, now fueled by the spirit of horrifically mutated humans, the Omnic’s resolve to save his people back home hardened. Looking down at his bare, now singular, hand, the Omnic would recall his methodology- and how he was saving Omnics from extinction by control. "The Seekers would function a lot faster if we had the power of Null Sector behind us." A small, translucent dome would form in Ramattra’s hand, composed entirely of nanites, an object that when put on a robotic entity’s head, would make him subservient to his will.



Ramattra knew his power to command robots will was limited in this world since he was in a weakened state with no army left to serve him. It was these grassroots he remembered from the rage of the Democrawler spirit that reawakened his presence to control Omnics, and a special bonus in this world- other robotic entities. The Omnic nodded in contemplation as he deformed the nanites back into his form. With this ability he would be able to increase the number of meaningful entities on White Team, as well as lay the foundation to create more forces later for the Seekers. "This will do for now."

Before the Stagecoach made large amounts of headway away from the Spire, however, Ramattra was able to hear chatter and commotion picking up from the distance. He looked back at where the group had just departed from, Adam- or rather Raphael- and Eve were no longer standing in place during their discussion. While the Omnic was never particularly the “nosey-type”, he was curious of Raphael’s proclamation for a second chance, and knew that Sandaphlon would appreciate the intel. Taking shelter along a veil of trees while trying his best to stay hidden and eavesdrop, Ramattra would approach the source of the talking as quietly as he can…

They’d won, but in the end all their preparation, ingenuity and teamwork had paled in comparison to the power of a Guardian spirit. Edward wasn’t entirely sure if the impossible creatures were able to feel disbondent, or if he was just projecting and seeing their tiredness as something more, but they had certainly been lain lowest by the encounter. Really it was a miracle they were still alive, and that the monstrosity had been distractible enough that it hadn’t hunted them down.

He and they had done well enough in the mass battle, but that wasn’t what awaited them at the end of this road, now was it? It was one man, one self-proclaimed god, which presented a problem much more like what they had just faced.

Still, even if it was emotionally unpleasant to be reminded of this problem, it wasn’t anything that would be solved by idleness. As soon as everyone was ready, they were back on the road again. Which provided a slight problem as while the chillanth could stalk along at a relatively swift and steady pace, and the Trafficrab was small enough to ride the stagecoach, the stubby legged Snoruyo lagged behind, necessitating a golem escort to hang back as well.

The pause to let the seekers reunite at least gave them some time to catch up, but once everyone who’d gone to and from space (something he was very much looking forward to discussing with Ramattra) was onboard, they stuck following in its wheeltracks again.

It was a good thing they’d be stopping soon and the creatures could catch up, but the issue would likely prove to be a greater problem tomorrow.

While traveling out from the spire, Edward made sure to fill Sandalphon in on what she had missed, speaking through one of her screens to avoid having to shout through the thick walls of the stage coach. While the discussion of the combats was fairly dry, the both of them were experienced in giving and receiving such reports, his discussion of the revelation of the nature of the Naytibas was more conversational.

”As it turns out, these Naytibas were the result of humans transforming themselves into weapons to fight a second war against being known as Andro-Eidos. Apparently these Andros had declared themselves the new human race and then attempted to wipe out the ‘real’ humans” he said, before speculating that ”If they were rebelling creations or simply another kind of altered humans I can’t say, but a cautionary tale to be added to the ledger either way, certinly”

Although Sandalphon was especially weary and sore after the tense escape and then turbulent descent from the infested space station, her expression gave no sign as she listened at rapt attention. This extra information gleaned by the ground crew helped provide much-needed context to the odd conversation between Adam and Eve. The scavenger being a Naytiba explained a lot, and not just why she couldn’t connect to him via her ergo strings right after confirming that she could interface with Eve.

“So, that is the fate of mankind in the world they come from,” Sandalphon summarized. “An empty title abandoned by mutated aberrations and assumed by deluded machines. A story that reaches its turning point in the meeting between Eve, ‘an Andro-Eidos with the most advanced Unisonous Hyper Body ever seen’, and Adam, ‘the ultimate Naytiba that has not succumbed to its hostile instincts’.” She tilted her head slightly. “How strange to have witnessed the story’s end before learning all the necessary details. I am somewhat curious about the conclusion they reached…but in the end, it makes little difference. This is the World of Light, after all. There is no shortage of humans.”

She looked at Edward, then stared off into the middle distance for a moment. “I wonder. Is their ‘new beginning’ the product of the World of Light’s unique circumstances, or is it an eventuality from their own world, a pattern they unwittingly fell into?” She reached up, pulled down her halo, and began to polish some of today’s dust and grime from its surface. “That seems to be the fate of Galeem’s people. Stuck in their stories, and unable to write any new chapters.”

”Any new chapter that does not result in more war at any rate, be it from some new threat to replace the Naytiba, or getting embroiled in Dr Willing’s war of impossible creatures. Even then, ten years is all they get, and they’ll have to do it again” Edward replied/agreed grimly. War after war after war. That was all the people of this world would find. True, the same likely went for many of the ones they came from too, but there was at least a hope that one day, maybe even some day soon, there would be peace.

But peace needed stability, and in this world where all lives were curly cut short, no such thing could be found.

Well, not quite all.

”Still, maybe they’ll make something entirely new that will last beyond the scant remaining years. This world might have no shortage of humans, and yet it might need a ‘new humanity’ nonetheless” Edward said, glancing at the Cillanth stalking beside the stage coach and then back to Sandalphon, saying ”If this world was overflowing with new life there could finally be peace, and yet the price…”

Well, it was practically unthinkable.

“Peace…?” Sandalphon idly peered at the solid wall of the stagecoach, not sure what Edward was looking at. “Unlikely. There are simply too many species or factions that are inherently destructive or violent, if not inherently evil. Demons, fiends, zombies, Others, Raptures, Naytibas…” She brought up a screen, ready to name more examples, but ultimately shrugged and brushed the screen away. “The list goes on. But even if all such species were eradicated, I doubt there would be peace.”

The archangel leaned back against the wall of the coach. “In my time among humans, I have observed…that conflict is simply human nature. Or, to put it more charitably, perhaps, it is core to the human experience. Even if some savior ridded the World of Light of all problems for one golden hour, more would soon arise.” She narrowed her eyes slightly as her pupils became inverted triangles. “Of course, that’s not to say such a goal is futile, or not worth pursuing. Peace among men was the goal of every archangel.” With nothing more she could think of to say on that subject, she trailed off.

After a moment, though, Sandalphon glanced at Edward with question marks in her pupils. “You talk about the future of this world. But should our mission succeed, this world will pass away. Our true selves will return to our own worlds. Or so we’ve been led to believe.” Sandalphon did not like thinking about the World of Light from a meta perspective. She’d heard a number of things about how it happened, how it worked, and what might one day happen, but who really knew for sure? Could anyone truly know? Baseless conjecture was not her forte. “Do you look to this world’s future simply as a thought exercise, or because you think that we might not succeed? Or perhaps that we should not?”

”It’s always important to keep options open, I think. As you said, we have been lead to believe that things will simply go back to the way they once were, but what if that is not the case?” Edward pointed out, noting that ”As I understand it the source of that ‘fact’ is not held in particularly high regard when it comes to trustworthiness."

He then shrugged and went on ”Even if that is true, there is no inherent worth to the way things were. Galeem has compiled the learning of untold worlds into one place after all. Just imagine the age of wonders that could be brought forth, if only there was time to scratch more than just the surface of that accumulated wisdom. To utilize it for something other than war.”

As he said this, the man briefly seemed to look twenty years younger, full of wide eyed hope for the future. Then the weight of those twenty years came crashing back down as he admitted ”Then again, that same wisdom can just as easily be used to create horrors the likes of which we could have never dreamed of as well, and allow self conquering despots and monsters to inflict far more suffering than if they were sealed way on their original worlds.”

”Yet at the same time, is it fair to lock the innocent in with the evils of their own world when connection to other worlds could allow them to be saved?” he added in turn, before stopping himself from going on at even more length than he already was.

”My apologies. My world, or rather, worlds, have been stuck in the throws debate like this as of late. The re-opening of the gates that allowed travel between the worlds in the astral sea had, well, consequences. As such, discussion as to if things are better, worse, or simply different now are as common as they are contentious.”

Sandalphon listened quietly to Edward’s talking points. He summarized the issue well. This world ultimately faced the same conundrum that every constituent world did, that being whether or not good could triumph over evil, albeit on a much larger scale. She worried that the sum of all worlds’ evils would vastly outweigh the sum of all worlds’ goods, which meant that the Endless Now’s Moebius-induced stasis might actually be serving to keep even greater evils from running rampant, but there was no way to know for sure. That one sentiment, really, characterized the whole issue from top to bottom. For all her accumulated data and mental ability, Sandalphon felt just as ignorant and powerless as ever–the blind, leading the blind.

“I understand,” she admitted. “The fact of the matter is that we simply do not know. There is no good answer. We can only console ourselves with the hope that doing the best we can will someday lead us all toward the greater good, as trite as such a thing no doubt sounds.”

”It has its merits. Certainly more than sacrificing any and all ethics in the name of some nebulous greater good has” Edward agreed in part. Naturally the man was rather fond of planning and forethought, but with all the unknowns and untrustworthy actors in play, it was rather difficult to do so.

”Still, just because there is no answer in sight, does not mean we should stop searching for one. If Galeem’s world proves one thing, it's that people can achieve the impossible” he said, beneath the shadow of a heaven piercing tower built with not a lick of magic within it, a notion any one from his reality would have considered an absurdity in the extreme.

Those words brought to mind the particular task Sandalphon had before her. It was such a sudden and sobering reminder that her breath caught in her throat, her pupils rapidly shifting between a half-dozen symbols before settling on stress marks. “...Yes,” she murmured after a moment. “I pray that it is so.”

Edward blinked in surprise at the reaction, but that was the only perturbment that he allowed. Rather than poke at it and ask if she was alright, because quite clearly she was not, he instead gently asked/offered the angel an open ended lifeline if she needed it ”Is there anything I might be able to assist you with?”

“No, thank you.” Sandalphon closed her eyes, shaking her head. “At least, not right now. I’ll inform you if I need anything.”

The man nodded after only a moment of hesitation, taking her word for it. Then, sensing that was the end of the conversation, returned to his own thoughts as the snowdrifts passed them by.

With a little time to kill between rounds, Zenkichi decided to take a short walk around the Pools to stretch his legs and see what the competition might be like, as well as how some of his team mates were holding up. As he wandered the tier, he saw a huge number of fights going on, most of which were…not the best. Some were over within a minute, multiple rounds going by in a flash as a veteran absolutely bullied a low-skilled fighter, while others dragged on until the timers ended a round, neither fighter willing to commit to attacks enough to knock out their foe. The Street Fighter matches were by far the most common, with Mortal Kombat barely appearing at all. Most interesting, however, were the team battles of the King of Fighters tourney, where teams were split up into three and were often fighting their rounds simultaneously.

Catching a glimpse of a familiar-looking Fixer finishing up his round, Zenkichi offered Roland a wave before moving on, wandering the Pools. He caught a glimpse of Pit’s match, and thought he saw Bowser Jr and Rika cheering for him, but they were pretty far away, on the other side of that arena, and he couldn’t be sure, but he waved to the Gold Team captain nonetheless.

He burned a few more minutes wandering around, before sitting on a bench and stretching his back. He rolled his neck, feeling a soft pop in his spine, and let out a weary sigh. Days of this would take its toll, that was for sure, but at least the fights would only last a few minutes each. His adrenaline was just as high as after a real fight, but the comedown was a lot easier on his butt than on his feet.

“There you are.” Turning his head to the source of the voice, Zenkichi was surprised to see Iron Monk, but nodded to the man and gestured to the seat next to him. The warrior sat, waiting for a moment before speaking. “This is your first tournament in Esaka.” It wasn’t a question.

”Just arrived yesterday, actually.” Zenkichi confessed, looking out into the Pools. ”Figured it was worth a try.” Iron Monk let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“The lack of gravitas with which you treat this challenge vexes me.” The steel-themed warrior chided, but shook his head. “No matter. Your path is not one of darkness, I can see that much. The summit which many of us warriors have spent our lives striving for is not your goal. I only ask what it is that drives you. Despite your lack of care for the tournament, you nonetheless fought as though your life was on the line.”

All of ours are. Zenkichi thought, darkly, before shaking his head. ”That’s true. I’m not here to win the tournament. Well, I am, but that’s not why I came here. It’s just…the easiest way to do what I need to do.” Remembering what Band said not long before, Zenkichi turned the conversation back to Iron Monk. ”What about you? Why do you fight?”

Iron Monk closed his eyes, deep in thought as he remembered his purpose. “I fight to stop the Black Mantis.” He stated simply. “A warrior sect that seeks immortality. These tournaments are a way to hone my skills, and to find them wherever they may go. Fighters like us are drawn to battle, and Esaka is the home of many great battles. Whenever one of their member shows their face, I will be ready to strike them down.” Zenkichi hummed, nodding along. Sounded a lot like trying to stop a false god from ascending into actual godhood.

“I will leave you be. I can see that your mind is steeled, though your purpose remains unclear. Fight well, Zenkichi Hasegawa. Know that I look forward to seeing you victorious. You fight with a heart unclouded by hate or ego. The same cannot be said for many who come to this city. It is refreshing to fight a man of conviction and honor.” Iron Monk rose to bow, his hands meeting before his chest, and Zenkichi also stood, matching his bow with a small smile.

”It was a good fight. Better than they give at the Kyanta dojo, that’s for sure.” Iron Monk paused, sighed, then nodded.

“Yes. I know of that dojo and its tricks. They are not bad people, but they are…overly enthusiastic for victory.” Zenkichi laughed, sitting back down.

”That they are. Have a good day, Iron Monk. And good luck with the Black Mantis.” He watched the other fighter leave, frowning. There were so many problems out there that they couldn’t realistically solve. Though, if he ever met somebody who said they were part of a black mantis, he’d have to make sure it was the same one before he did anything about it. Color plus adjective was a common enough naming scheme, after all.

Roland was enjoying a bit of a break between his fights. Considering how much he did this sorta thing in the library, it was nice getting an easier deal with it being 1 on 1 instead of large groups. As he was resting, fellow seeker Zenkichi got out of his round of matches and gave Roland a wave. Roland gave him a reciprocal wave, grabbing one of the sports drinks that were offered at the venue to refresh himself. While Zenkichi was talking to a few of the other fighters, Roland kept mostly to himself until he saw

His next opponent was a bit of a goofy one. Honestly, people like him didn't exist where he was. He was a goofy looking guy in a fancy cloak and wearing a crown? No one in the city would dare to wear something like that. And with how polite the guy was acting.. Roland was immediately on edge around him. The arena was also different. Instead of being a wooden plank over a shallow lake, it was set upon a stone pillar that had a bit of a medieval look to it. A lost concept to Roland as there wasn't any place like that in the City, but something that fit his fellow fighter quite a bit.

--------------------------



"I will be taking a bit of a rest. Having to deal with re-entry is not an enjoyable matter." Sectonia said, pulling out some of her beauty products and fixing up herself after all the shenanigans that happened up on that space station. She'd offer the same to the others if they wanted to get all fixed up. When it came to the whole Adam/Eve thing and what they were doing... Well Sectonia was a bit more preoccupied with fixing her fluff than dealing with whatever drama was going on over there. That was their drama, not hers. Blazermate meanwhile was doing what she normally did and heal everyone.

Before they set off, Amaterasu ran around gathering up all the spirits and proceeded to present them to the other two members of her team. It wasn’t exactly the most appealing pile, it had to be said. Horrible meat machines weren't exactly on the top of anyone’s fusion candidate list, and certainly not those who’d not dipped their toes into that way of gathering power yet.

Still, there were other options, and Amaterasu demonstrated this by crouching down and growling at one of the spirits till it bent to her will and became a striker for her.



A moment later she stood up, focused for a second, and then the destroyed demon car was briefly back, roaring around the park again under the wolf’s command. As it did so, she rode around on the roof of her infernal chariot, holding in a majestic pose as she did, aptly demonstrating that there was some value to be found in the spirits of these cursed machines, should the others desire to join her in claiming it.

“Woahh…”

Frozen, Terry could only gaze in awe at the sight like a little child, absently holding out a hand as if trying to grab one of the spirits being gathered by Amaterasu. While he’d already seen yokai and such, he never recalled experiencing the very thing demonstrated by the furred deity beforehand, let alone thinking that it was possible to use them.

“So these are the spirits you were talking about yesterday, aren’t they, Cap?” Terry asked, slightly peering over his equally gallant partner, who offered a nod in reply. He then darted his eyes back at the collection of vehicular spirits provided in front of him, finally making up his mind. “I… guess it doesn’t hurt to have a striker that I can count on at any given time.”

Given Cap’s prior explanation, he was already aware of the consequences, but it wasn’t like he was planning on collecting as many spirits as possible like they were a bunch of spectral Pokémons, anyway. The three-time KOF champion drew his extending hand back, then brought two of his fingers between his clipping lips, folding his tongue against his curling fingers to blow out a loud whistle. Among all the spectral cars lining up before them, only the blue-roofed Hornet accepted the call, as if drawn to him almost instantaneously. It drove towards Terry on both of its rear wheels, happily vrooming and honking. Despite the initial beat down, the King of Speed seemed willing to act as the King of Fighters’ striker, its demeanor brighter than it once was.



Ukee giggled aloud and applauded, as the Hornet began to nudge Terry with rounds of playful jabs. Reflexively, Terry placed his forearms over his face, not quite blocking each and every spinning front wheel tickling his forearms. He chuckled along.

“Alright, alright! Jeez…” Terry chimed in, followed by the Hornet’s mechanical roar. It was quite a stark contrast to when they fought a while back. Gone was the dark influence that’d been consuming it, replaced by a gesture of gratitude.

“See that, guys? I think this thing loves me!” Terry said heartily, then as the Hornet dropped itself on both pairs of wheels, patted its blue roof. The racing car quickly leaned to his touch. “Somehow, they knew that I wanted ’em. You guys think it’ll be legal to bring this bad boy to some of our future matches?”

The wolf wasn’t really sure, but she assumed that the ‘heavenly principles’ would balance things out to make them fair in the same way it had affected her. Not that the change had had any real impact in her last fight, but in the next, things were going to be interesting. Especially now that she could summon a demon car. Falcon wasn’t really sure either, though either way he would have personally preferred to stick to his fists for Tournament fights anyway.

Speaking of cars, both her and Terry’s timed out in short order after they were done riding/petting them, their impact on the world ever so fleeting. Fitting for spirits brought back to a semblance of life, she supposed.

As for the rest, none had any interest in the more grotesque machines on offer, nor the smaller ones, and so they were swiftly crushed and turned into items.



The results weren't exactly useful to the divine wolf (except the paper money), though they were at the same time pretty interesting, and she guessed that some might be of use to the more mechanically minded seekers, while the rest might sell well enough.

The same could be said about Terry because he either fought with bare hands or the fact that many of the items obtained were simply cursed. However, he could see some use in the hellish plating, given that its advantages could affect their performances directly. Even then, he wasn’t sure about using the item, either, considering its fleshy form. Just seeing most of the items provided made him flinch in disgust.

“Yuck! Well, that’s gross!” Terry remarked, slightly stepping back. “But hey, ’least we got to summon a note outta those things. I didn’t know that even cars needed money, too.”

At the thought, a snicker left his mouth, despite himself. He wasn’t sure if he was still hungry anymore after the grotesque sight, but he could still feel his stomach grumbling, albeit faintly. Ukee, too, seemed to be experiencing the same thing, as he stood on the brawny blonde’s shoulder and held his midriff. The amusing sight prompted Terry to grin, his affectionate hand running across the monkey’s brown head.

“Aww… you hungry, buddy?” Terry asked, in which Ukee reciprocated with a hopeful nod. “Yeah, me too.” The Hungry Wolf then shifted his attention towards both of his partners, glancing over them alternately. “What about you two? I think we could use some lunch before our next match. Pao Pao, anyone?”

”Sure.” Cap said in agreement, ”I had some stuff I wanted to chat about, so lunch is a good way to do that.” He snapped his gloved fingers and dug around his pockets until he produced a pouch containing his 125 emerald-like pons. ”And this is some money I earned in Mafia Town a few days back. Is there any place I can exchange it for zenny around here?”

The divine wolf barked once in agreement as well, before moving to patted all the unused items with a paw, storing them one by one in her inventory for later use/selling. But not before Captain Falcon stooped down to pick up the Chrome Finish, ”Might be able to find a use for this,” he suggested with a grin, ”if not for me than for my F-Zero Machine at least.”

“Hmm…”

Again, Terry found himself contemplating, absently running his hand around his mandible. Ukee did the exact same gesture, as he narrowed his eyes and scanned each and every item thoughtfully, also mimicking the exact expression on his human friend’s face. Out of all the items yet to be claimed, they could both agree that the Hornet Tires and the Nightstick were the least gruesome of them all. Simultaneously, both the golden-haired human and the monkey glanced over each other, eyes locking as if already predicting what was inside each other’s head.

“Well, well… Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Ukee?”

Ukee could only nod and screech happily, as if attempting to reciprocate what Terry had been guessing all along. He darted his gaze back towards the remaining items, now focusing solely on both the police baton and the tires. While he found no use for the both, he thought he could—at the very least—keep the tires to either sell them to a certain small-time Indy car racer or change the Hornet’s tires every now and then (if the spectral car still required a regular vehicle maintenance, that is).

“Y’know what? Right,” Terry said, as he lowered his shoulders and picked each of the tires scattering close to the tips of his sneakers. “I’ll keep these. I know somebody I can sell ’em to. He’s a racer just like Cap.”

Ukee, excited, leaped out of his buddy’s shoulder to prevent him from picking the last tire, only to set the tire up and play with it. At the amusing sight, Terry snorted in a snicker, giving the monkey a head pat that prompted him to jolt upon reeling the tire against the ground.

“Oh, nah, you don’t! There goes my boy again,” Terry quipped, then shook his head, not trying hard enough to snatch the miniscule tire from the monkey. Subsequently, he shifted his attention back towards Cap and Amaterasu while Ukee continued to mind his business. “Sooo… what say we go to the closest money exchange place first before we head straight to Pao Pao? I think Ammy and I can show you ’round if you wanna, Cap.”

The divine wolf wasn’t entirely sure how much showing around she could really do, despite her running around all over the previous day, but she wasn’t going to say no to the plan if it involved going for food.

”Sounds fine to me.” Captain Falcon agreed with a shrug. With that, the three teammates finally left the parking garage.

Once Brother Moon had fully retreated, many of the Seekers moved to go regroup with the others. But Ganondorf did not leave immediately. Instead he stepped toward the edge of the large pit that Brother Moon left behind and peered down inside. From this distance, he couldn’t tell where Belial’s spirit was, but the warlord knew it had to be down there. And he wasn’t leaving until he had it in his possession. Ganondorf had gone to a lot of trouble to see the troublesome Naytiba dead and he’d be damned if he was going to leave the spoils behind.

Without a word, the Gerudo gave a high-pitched whistle that called his pet Phantom Familiar to his side. When the winged specter floated above his head, Ganondorf grabbed a hold and made a leap into the pit. The Phantom Familiar spread its wings wide and glided itself and its master all the way down to the bottom of the pit safely.. Even at the bottom of the pit, Ganondorf still had trouble spotting the spirit Belial had to have left behind. To save himself some time he summoned five moblins so he could have extra eyes on the lookout for his prize.

With the extra sets of eyes, Belial’s spirit was spotted within minutes and presented to the Gerudo King for his use. ”One way or another…” Ganondorf murmured to himself as he fixed his gaze on the glowing spirit orb, ”...you’re mine now.”

Ganondorf knew exactly what he was going to do with this spirit, but decided to wait until the Seekers had regrouped before doing something with it. For now, he dismissed his moblin summon and gaze up toward the pit’s exit. Getting out would be a little harder than it was getting in, but the King of Evil wasn’t about to let something so minor deter him. He bent his knees and launched himself into a bullet jump toward the wall. It wasn’t easy, but the mobility granted to him by his warframe spirit allowed the warlord to platform his way back out of the pit where he could then regroup the rest of the Seekers.

Due to his detour into the pit, Ganondorf was among the last of the Seekers to meet back up with the other group after Sandalphon had parted ways with Adam and Eve. As such, Ganondorf had no priviness to the conversation that took place in the Orbital Space Station, although most likely he wouldn’t have felt much investment in that development either way. His focus was still very much on hunting down Baldr and slaying him to cripple Galeem further, and to eliminate any members of Moebius that would no doubt try to interfere.

Besides, now that the Seekers had all regrouped and could continue their journey through the Midnight Walk, Ganondorf was free to finally use the Spirit he had claimed of Belial. He entered into the stagecoach after Sandalphon had gone. The earlier fight had left him in need of food to help him restore his lost biomass, which even included one of his back tentacles that the Naytiba had stubbornly severed. But once inside he settled down and held the spirit in his hand.

”We slew him for good this time.” Ganondorf said aloud, knowing Sandalphon was present, ”Belial, I mean. I made sure of it.” He clarified, holding the spirit as proof. ”Ever since I fused with that accursed Gravemind, I’ve been unable to heal myself conventionally. But seeing as how Belial was able to regenerate himself from near death…” Ganondorf mused, continuing to speak aloud to himself before finally plunging the spirit into his chest.



The light faded and Ganondorf quickly assessed his newfound appearance. ”Hmm… so it’s a form of reviving oneself…” He mused, taking in the instinctive knowledge of the abilities that Belial had given him. He also flexed his left arm a bit, as if feeling a bit of strength being restored to it as Belial’s spirit canceled out a weakness that had been created by the spirit of Artorias. All the better, as far as Ganondorf was concerned. Still, a self-revival by itself may not be enough in a fierce battle against Moebius. Perhaps he also needed to ensure he was using his other spirits to their fullest ability as well? Such as that Pokemon he fused with… Ceruledge.



As a test, Ganondorf tried channeling some ghostly fire into one of his swords. When it appeared successful, he nodded to himself in satisfaction. Perfect. Between this and Belial’s regeneration, he felt like he could finally get around the weakness he suffered from having consumed the Gravemind spirit. And with that, he could now finally enjoy a bowl of stew for himself.