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Amidst the commotion of White Team establishing a base for the night in the abandoned lodge, Tenna and a small group of his Shadow Guys he summoned throughout the night, will have transformed a corner of one of the bedrooms into a makeshift show stand. Nobody was entirely sure where he was able to find the camcorders that surrounded the rearranged stand made of tables and chairs, draped with an ominous carpet that radiated bad juju to any magic users for decoration. There were also more statues of his likeness.

While many of the Seekers chose to rest for the night in the confines of the abandoned lodge or hunt out for valuable resources to make the base more operational, it seemed that the TV Host was preparing to put on some form of impromptu entertainment. With a joyous grin, he danced merrily as his shadowy minions threw handfuls of confetti over him, inviting the other Seekers to come closer. “If you’re looking for fun! YOU FOUND IT! If you’re looking for NOSTALGIA! YOU. FOUND. IT!!!!” He cheered as many of the seekers walked past him.

This was going to be an awful mess to clean up, and little did the eccentric TV host know that he and his wacky cronies were going to be responsible for that at the end of the night.

Sectonia was responsible for cleaning up the place, although she delegated that task to her Antlers, only directing them instead of partaking in the cleaning action itself. She wasn’t going to sleep in an ugly building if she could help it. Once the Antlers had their jobs, she looked bored and hearing Tenna talk about entertainment decided to lazily buzz over to observe and see what was going on there.

Mokou herself had been mainly delegated with lighting the various fires that would keep the seekers warm throughout the night, additionally creating a few feathers for folks to hold onto for a nice bit of warmth should the fires go out. Her eternally bored eyes simply washed over Tenna for a moment as they shouted and gathered their onlookers… But, in a surprising twist, she actually came over to the corner where Tenna had set up, holding her hands in her pockets, “Nostalgia huh? Not sure if you can replicate what I would consider that, but I’m down for a bit of entertainment” she states as she pushes a chair out with her foot, quickly sitting down and folding one leg over the other.

Blazermate meanwhile was using her little tinderbox to light the main fire while Mokou lit everything else. She didn’t know what was so impressive about this skill, but once she lit the fireplace, some harmless fireworks went off around her and she knew she was ‘level 2 firemaking’, whatever that meant. With that done, she heard people gathering with Tenna making a big announcement and decided to fly over and see what that was all about, as no one really needed heals at the moment.

Nearby, Roxas had been busy making sure his Pokemon were all fed - a task that was getting increasingly big now that he’d acquired as many as he had. But most importantly, Scamp’s ears perked up at the sound of the gathering and he suddenly left the bowl of stew he’d whoofed down and started bounding over to satisfy his curiosity.

”Huh? What the- Scamp, where are you going?” Roxas called as he scrambled after his Boltund, not wanting Scamp to get himself into any trouble. So naturally he wound up around the camcorders and CRT alongside a few other Seekers in time to hear Tenna’s offer of “fun and nostalgia”. The Nobody didn’t have anything better to do, so he shrugged his shoulders and stuck around.

Once everybody had grouped up at the edge of the table (adorned with that awful rug), Tenna would pose happily, gleeful that there were SOME PEOPLE with a knack for fun. Oh… it was getting awfully boring. But once people had started questioning what Tenna’s plans for the evening were, he chipped up, more than eager to explain.

“Why! I’m preparing for a show! Where you lot will be my CONTESTANTS!” Oh. Well, it seemed like now they were being roped into Tenna’s plans since they had the bravery to be curious around the CRT. “You see! I can make fun anywhere, and today I have a SPECIAL program ready, just for you guys!” A gloved finger would stretch out toward the tiny crowd. Did those camcorders even work? Everything here had bad vibes, but maybe it was just the stress of being on the Midnight Walk getting to the mental fortitude of the Seekers.

“IT’S. T. V. TI-” Tenna sat close to the edge of the table, directly in the center of the spooky rug, which, upon feeling his immediate weight, would clamp around him, just as his screen turned off.

”Uh, is he ok?” Blazermate said, noting that he hadn’t taken any damage, but unsure about how he felt after trying to do something cool. Sectonia meanwhile gave a joyful cackle, she loved fools making fools of themselves for the entertainment of others.

”Beats me.” Roxas said, tilting his head. Scamp, meanwhile, leaned forward and sniffed at where Tenna was standing and gave a curious bark of his own.

Before his allies could begin to worry about his well-being, The CRT’s screen would flash back on, displaying a program of an odd character walking on a beach littered with random objects. Little white orbs could be seen appearing on the camcorders as the screen on Tenna’s face began displaying text.

“A sentimental wheel partially indulges the skeletons. The people consider with a spirit. It is a mandible amidst an offending mirror. It is a vacuum. Amidst spirit. Meanwhile, the TV becomes under another’s will. Thus, your story begins.”

Suddenly, once the small, oddly-shaped character walked over and flicked a large button on the machine below the car, Tenna’s screen would flash to static before displaying a series of mishapen sigils. Without any time to react, Tenna’s screen would begin rapidly digitizing the bodies of the Seekers in attendance, slowly teleporting them inside his screen.

”Hey, whoa, what-!” Roxas started to exclaim in startlement before his digitization cut him off. Scamp gave an alarmed bark in concern for his trainer but ended up getting digitized right along with him.

Mokou didn’t even seem to react as she was digitized, remaining in her comfortable position despite the scene unfolding before her. Whatever sound she would have made was quickly cut off as the digitization quickly dragged her into Tenna’s TV Screen.

Blazermate was more confused than anything. Not the first time shes been digitized, but why was Tenna doing this and for what reason? He was nice right? Uuh…. well they did fight the Consul that ate them that one time, was this going to be something similar? Well, they had Sectonia, so they had firepower if they needed it. The bee queen herself only stopping her laughing when she started to be digitized, also a bit mad since this just happened out of the blue.

As the Seekers finally, as if in a deep sleep, began waking up, the sound of crackling thunder in the near distance disturbing them from their unnatural hibernation. The room they found themselves in appeared to be a suite room library, where three golden cheerful statues of Tenna were erected. The five seemed to have been separated from Tenna entirely, the cheerful CRT statues behind them being the only clue that the TV Host was somewhere to be found nearby.

The room was dark, and reeked of wet carpet from years of neglect. While it certainly seemed safe, there was an odd air about the place, along with oddly shapen ghostsfilling the lightning storm outside with a constant eerie sensation of being watched.

Other than the statues, and a large array of books, there was a large door, a globe of what appeared to be a generic planet, a painting of a hat laying on the floor, along with another painting (this one rectangular) of a cello, and a fireplace, opposite parallel to the door. There was also a pile of low quality flashlights to help the seekers with visibility in the dank statue room.

Upon closer inspection, the door was locked with two unique locks, one bound by magic, and the other nonspecial, seemingly easy to lockpick to the eyes of any experienced thief. The task at hand was simple for the group, seeing as they were locked in a room with no immediate exit.

”OK, what is even going on? Did he just teleport us into a dark room? What kind of game is he playing?” Sectonia was a bit mad since this whole thing blindsided her, but she wasn’t into smashing everything just yet. She’d wait for a response or something.

”Uhh…. Looks like its just an escape room sorta deal. Although I didn’t know he could do stuff like this. He didn’t seem to be that combat capable compared to you or Ganondorf, so… I don’t think we’re in any real danger? Uh still though, very confusing. Just look around for like, keys or something to open the door. They'll be in the globe or in the painting or a book or something.” Blazermate said, having done one of these for fun before. Although without anything to Scan, she might take a bit to find anything.

“Hm, ‘escape room’... I think I heard about this kind of stuff before. Never actually went to one myself” Mokou comments, strolling through the room as an orange feather floated next to her, illuminating the area around her without the need for the flashlights nearby, “But if we’re looking for something, the best method I find is to just tear everything up. They wouldn’t leave the keys in plain sight” with that, Mokou begins doing just that, grabbing various items from the room (mainly the paintings from the walls and the rug on the floor) and casually tossing them to the side to look underneath them.

On closer inspection of the paintings, there were rectangular and oval-shaped chalk outlines on the wall adjacent, that began to fade with the test of time. A nail was smashed into the top-center area of each outline; nothing was suspended from either nail.

It didn’t take long for Mokou to connect the dots with the chalk outlines and the paintings, mainly letting out a sigh of annoyance at the prospect of doing proper physical labor for this, “Roxas, help me move these to the other wall. Put the rectangular painting with the rectangular chalk” she says, already carrying the oval painting to its designated position.

”Um… okay.” Roxas replied, moving to pick up the rectangular painting as asked. He glanced for a fraction of a second at the locks. He was pretty sure his Keyblades could open them without any trouble. But then… this was supposed to be like a game, right? He supposed it wouldn’t be as fun if he just cheated the locks open. Not after Tenna had gone to the trouble of setting this up. So he may as well stick to the rules here.

Aligning the paintings with the spots of chalk on the wall would make a series of clicking noises from within the foundation of the building. Suddenly, the fire rising from the fireplace would be quelled, giving the trapped Seekers a chance to investigate it. Looking up the fireplace’s ventilation unit revealed a large upward opening with a bright red light leading to an odd cave that formed quite a ways up. The cave was only big enough for one party member and required some agility and/or mobility to get upwards. Some rock formations protruded that could be grabbed.

”I’d rather not try to fit myself through something like this.” Sectonia said, having the mobility, but not the proper size to fit through the area.

The sight made Roxas glance between his fellow Seekers, ”Uh… looks pretty cramped up there.” He said, even as Scamp sniffed at the vent. ”I can make the climb if no else can…” He added, essentially offering to be the one who made the ascent. He assumed he was probably best suited for such a climb, given his agility and Flow Motion. But for all he knew, Blazermate might have wanted to make the ascent by simply flying up.

Looking at Sectonia who didn’t want to do anything and Roxas who was looking at her, Blazermate said. ”Yeah yeah, I’ll be right back.” and made her way upa dn through the tunnel.

Following the bright red light and entering the odd cave, it seemed to be emanating from, revealed a passageway, which opened into a cave of horrific stone faces all illuminated by an odd glowing red cube in the distance. While the vibes were certainly disturbing, there didn’t seem to be any threats lurking, so progressing through was easy for the strong-willed.

The cave seemed to wind aimlessly and nonsensically, though, and progressing towards the cube revealed a maintenance ladder leading over the next room, which appeared to be a large boiler room decorated with waterway pipelines. There was only one door in the room, which had a latch and a deadbolt that could easily be unlocked from this side of the room to allow teammates to regroup in the same room. Blazermate opened the door to let the other seekers through.

From a corner of a room under a blanket, an odd television set with four legs began to walk around aimlessly into walls and the Seekers. Its screen was turned off, although it seemed to have a power button on the backside, which was, if it could be caught. It walked around so aloof that it sometimes inadvertently avoided the grasp of those who chased it.

Sectonia, wanting this farce to either get to the point or be over, turned on the TV. Blazermate would’ve done it, but she didn’t know how CRTs worked as everything where she was from was flatscreened and needed remotes and everything. Meanwhile for Sectonia, CRTs were still in fashion in Dreamland funny enough.

Upon the power button being activated, the TV’s once staticky screen now froze, before turning off, then immediately turning on again, the two antennas suddenly appearing a lot more cartoonish. A familiar face appeared on the screen, as if suspended in animation. “IIIIME!!! Whoa, wait hold on? Where did my SWAGGER go?” Tenna resumed, immediately taking note of his odd new form.

The CRT had a lot to answer for, though it was pretty quick to notice that he was just as disoriented as the rest of the group. In his current form, he wouldn’t be able to offer support for the rest of the group.

“Well, welcome to your first mini game!” A loud crash of lightning would ominously strike as soon as he finished the sentence, an odd, old timey logo reading “Mr. (Ant)Tenna’s Marvelous Mystery Board” would appear as if they were in some twisted game show

”What is even going on? Are you even in control of your own power here?” Sectonia said, annoyed so far with the lack of clarity or entertainment as it were at the moment.

“Have to agree with the Queen here. While I appreciate the decor, no instruction on what to do is a bit annoying” Mokou herself states, her eyes scanning the room around them rather than staying on Tenna.

Tenna, understanding the confusion of the situation, nodded to the best of his near-useless form’s ability. “There’s no reason to be alarmed. My minigames are fun and harmless! Oh wait! I have an instructional video to play! Hmm…” His reassurance would’ve been more appreciated if he had explained that there was no physical threat to the Seekers, and that everything they were The screen went staticky for a moment, a spooky jingle playing.

The video seemed to demonstrate ghosts being eliminated with an offscreen light source. While there was no audio accompanying it, the text on screen explained well enough what their objective was: “Defeat the most ghosts and earn the most points! Saves are worth double!”

“Well. That's all I have. There's normally a lot more preparation time and I get to review my plans, but this caught me by surprise!” While it wasn’t immediately clear what a save entailed, the Seekers knew they would figure it out soon enough, as before they could ask, a horrifically mauled ghost of a young woman suddenly appeared from thin air as she teleported next to a generator adjacent to the maintenance ladder they had just entered. “But you have to trust me. We are not in any danger.”

Mokou glanced over at the woman who appeared next to the generator, her eyebrow rising a fraction of an inch as she took a hand to point at them, “I’m certainly not, but I doubt they would agree with that statement” she says, not doing anything more to engage with the ghost in question.

The ghost seemed to eye the seekers for a moment, as if eyeing their motives for a second, before returning her gaze to the generator, slashing her rusted weapon widely at the machine, before disappearing again. The lights shut off immediately, only the faint light of their flashlights, Tenna’s screen, and Mokou’s feathers serving as sources. Sinister laughter filled the room as a loud clatter in the darkness revealed an unscrewed maintenance ladder, immediately followed by the door Blazermate had just unlocked, slamming behind them.

Tenna’s screen now had a 2-minute timer on its display, along with miniature icons sharing the tallies of each Seeker present. “GOOOO!!” Tenna shouted, initiating the count of the time. Ghastly voices began appearing in the room around them, an odd purple ghost appearing behind Roxas, its long tongue flailing in an attempt to make a scary face.

Of course, it didn’t exactly account for Scamp’s presence. The Boltund had been sniffing around the room suspiciously ever since they got there, and the moment the purple ghost appeared he barked a warning at Roxas who turned around and fired a mostly-harmless shot from his RockGun at the ghost. ”Thanks, Scamp.” The Nobody told his Pokemon gratefully. Of course, he wasn’t sure the RockGun would be particularly effective here. Based on the video, he probably needed some kind of light source… then it hit him.

Roxas fished around in his backpack and found the butterfly lamp he had found while scouting with Heismay earlier that day. Maybe that would do the trick? The ghost became frightened by the swinging lamp, the light revealing its monster-like face, before it let out a cry and disappeared. On Tenna’s screen, the miniature icon of Roxas would increase by one point.

The phoenix herself didn’t move for a moment. Then her hand suddenly snapped out as a yellow ghost appeared on her left, intending to scare the white haired girl… Only to have a flash of harmless but blinding fire thrust into their face, sending them screeching and flying away with a hand over their eyes “One. You all better start working, I don’t lose when I’m challenged” she says, already walking forward, the feather that floated next to her glowing brighter as it helped her hunt down the ghosts that were now in the room.

Suddenly, the room began filling with ghosts of various shapes and sizes, most keeping a cartoonish, or odd look. They hid amongst the dark in each corner of the circular room. It wouldn’t be difficult to claim one and capture a bunch of ghosts with one flash of light from any of the Seekers' sources they held onto.

Suddenly, Tenna’s 4 legged form began ascending randomly, something clearly manipulating him to float. “Woah! Who turned OFF the gravity!?”

A translucent purple ghost would reveal itself to the seekers, lifting Tenna in his oversized arms. The ghost cackled menacingly before attempting to make out of the room with Tenna in his hands.

He wouldn’t get far. Roxas vanished from sight only to teleport into the ghost's path and tag him with his StepSword. Probably not that harmful to a ghost, but maybe enough to free Tenna from its grip. Of course, Roxas also set about aiming the lantern’s light at the ghost as well, since by now he knew that that was the surefire way to defeat one and earn a point. ”Ready to do some herding, Scamp?” He then asked, eliciting a bark from the Boltund. Roxas’ strategy became abundantly clear: utilize his Pokemon’s nose to sniff out hiding ghosts and to help herd into the path of Roxas’ lantern light.

The ghost kidnapping Tenna would seem surprised at the light after being tagged, slinking away into the wall. Tenna’s screen would play a cheerful fanfare upon his safe return! The number next to Roxas’ name would increase by two points, putting him in the lead at three. The Boltund directed Roxas to the northwest corner, where two distinct laughs could be made out among the darkness.

The last three corners of the room hid more ghosts, if Roxas was fast enough, he could possibly get the ghosts in his current corner, plus another if he could beat his allies to the punch.

Well, that would be until Sectonia understood the goal and started throwing her multiplying projectiles around, filling the area with vaguely homing random split projectiles flying all around, bouncing off the walls, aiming for the ghosts as they passed by, and just causing the general chaos she caused on a battlefield in a localized area. Even her smaller rings of light were only barely smaller than Blazermate, and being fired in triplicate made them much more difficult to deal with. Add on a rain of swords in one area and well…. Wait, it was clear that Tenna hadn’t actually seen her unleash her rain of projectiles yet has he? She had been more playing minion master when fighting with him before.

Sectonia, unleashing a hellfire of light projectiles, was able to hit ghosts in half the room, specifically four, and blind the rest for the duration of the round. The timer on Tenna’s screen face was at the minute mark, which meant the Seekers were running out of time to secure more points. The number next to the tiny icon of Sectonia chimed four times and rallied her total to four. She was in the lead, just barely one point ahead of Roxas, while Mokou remained at one.

Blazermate meanwhile really didn’t have all that much she could do. Sure she could send Armstrong at a spirit or summon her engineer to make an automated sentry gun that’d get rid of any spirits that got close, but without anyone getting injured nor kritz being useful in a game like this, most of her kit wasn’t all that useful here.

The clock was running out. Only one corner remained for the Seekers to clear, any light source viable to reveal however many ghosts remained in the ominous game. While Tenna’s face blinked to the last half-minute of time, the disfigured ghost lady would appear behind him, shrieking as she wrapped her sliced arms around the small TV, beginning to carry him away. Tenna’s screen displayed a video of somebody blinding the ghost lady with a flashlight in the eyes, forcing her to drop the victim she was carrying away. Maybe the video was a hint to release Tenna from her grasp, the final corner still cackling with undead life.

But before the disfigured woman could make off with the television set that made up Tenna’s current body, an alarm would play from the screen, directing the Seeker’s attention to him.

The woman set the CRT man down, as if obeying a direct command from him. The screen showed the miniature version of Sectonia with a first-place icon next to her name. After a victory tune accompanying a short results screen finished playing, the Seekers would be able to see where they placed, along with possible rewards.



While at first glance it was unclear what the possible rewards and their associated ranks would grant the group members, that would need to be something they found out later, because a couple of minutes after the screen played, the Seekers would begin to digitize again, rapidly materializing from Tenna’s screen back into the real world.

Tenna blinked at them, dazed, the rug no longer clung around him, and the camcorders now behaved as intended. Rather than trying to play off what happened as another part of the game, Tenna explained to the Seekers, who were trapped inside his screen that the rug which had clamped around him forced him into the minigame without any offering of an explanation of what they were in for, and that the ranks would be important for the next time in the minigame’s attendance.

After finishing his lunch and paying his debt to the prior Quick Rise waitress, Terry decided to take an elevator to the Pools alongside his team before they were late for their second match. If the billboard that Terry found nearby Pao Pao Café was to go by, the subsequent bout was scheduled to take place at K-32. Fortunately, upon arriving and following the direction provided to them by the nearby map, it didn’t take a while until the Seekers located the exact stage they were looking for.




As it turned out, K-32 was a spacious traditional sailing ship guarded by two unnamed villagers donning paddy hats. Given its weather-beaten state and fractured railings, he could only guess that whoever owned the ship most likely hadn’t maintained it for so long. However, considering its impressively sturdy frame, he had hopes that the ship would’ve still been able to load and withstand both his team and their opponents throughout the bout.

Alright, here goes…

Leaping onto the ship and steadied himself, the brawny blonde was immediately greeted by one of the guarding villagers handing him and his partners a tablet to allow them to “select your order.” Across from them were the Breakers who’d already arrived at the stage for roughly half an hour in advance, approached and instructed to do the same by the other villager.

After both teams had determined their numbers, the villagers retreated back to the corners of the ship to give the competing fighters some space, loudly announcing who was fighting who. As expected, Terry was pitted against the leader of Team Breakers himself, Sho Kamui. From the first glance, the FIST champion looked a hell lot like a fusion between Ryo and Kyo, which gave Terry a silly idea to tease Sho as they approached each other.

“Hey, I think I know you,” Terry claimed jokingly. “Aren’t you supposed to be Kyo? Oh, wait, Kyo doesn’t wear orange gi. Then, you gotta be the second Mr. Katera himself, huh?”

Sho huffed, frowned, then placed both of his gloved hands over his hips. He looked more irritated than he was amused. “The name is Sho. Sho Kamui. And it’s ‘karate,’ not ‘katera,’” he elaborated, his voice flat and factual.

Little did the Breaker know, Terry was only goofing around, pretending to mistake him for somebody else. “Oh, silly me! Of course, you’re that Sho Kamui guy from the Pocket Bravery Dojo! How can I forget that?” Terry quipped, feigning realization as he smacked his forehead. Around the same time, the monkey on his shoulder jabbed his cheek in amusement, eliciting a flinch and an “ouch!” from his best friend.

Sho, meanwhile, was even more unimpressed by Terry’s exaggerated attempt to make himself look goofy. Glaring glass-eyed at the erstwhile King of Fighters, he began to muse. Is this really my next opponent? The same man who won the King of Fighters tournament thrice?? Then, a louder smack to the forehead by the Breaker, followed by a weak headshake and a sigh. “You’re not taking this so seriously, are you?” he asked, crossed his arms, then gestured at Terry with his hand. “How did you even win the tournament with this mentality? No wonder nobody is taking Team Fatal Fury seriously anymore.”

At Sho’s blunt criticism, Terry gasped and placed a hand over his parting lips, feigning offense. Hilariously, Ukee did the exact same gesture, his face mirroring his best friend’s. “Ouch! Really? So, me and the boys are jobbers now, huh? Just ’cause we’re silly goobers?” he asked dramatically, snorted, then waved a dismissive hand. “Nah, kid, I think you’re taking this way too seriously. It’s just a harmless joke. Gotta lighten the mood every now and then, don’t you think? Especially knowin’ that one of us is gonna have to give the other a can of ass-whoopin’.”

Sho grunted and gnashed his teeth, even more irritated by Terry’s goofy wide smile. Thankfully, as were most Shotos, he was trained to keep himself level-headed at all times, not quite minding the silly, little quips. “You’re so unbelievable,” the stoic Breaker remarked with a shaking head. “You can’t be helped, can you? I hope you’re ready because I’ve been training for this moment.” He took a deep, controlled breath, then formed an X-sign over his front with his arms, slamming them against the air vigorously.

“Okay! It’s Sho-time!” Terry exclaimed happily, then dropped the duffle bag on his shoulder, prompting Ukee to hop out of his shoulder and join one of the guarding villagers by the sidelines. He whistled aloud, readjusted his gaudy red hat, then motioned at Sho with a beckoning gesture as he shouted: “Hey, c’mon, c’mon!”

DING!

DING!

Spectators began to fill the makeshift stage, as the metaphysical bell rang. Terry could already hear cheers coming from both sides of the ship, especially from children and women. Also among them were the obvious jeers coming from a bunch of heckling fighters, already spouting “Sloppy Bogard!” and “Terry sucks!” aloud before the bout even started. While KOF had the least spectators, surprisingly, they were loud enough that they could occupy the nearest vicinity with their noises.

Then, from the barest hints of gaps on the wooden deck, a golden light surfaced, swirling out of its cage. Lines were drawn, and the ship was divided into three sections, separating a pair of competing fighters from another. A fraction of light then regrouped to form letters of gold between Terry and Sho, displaying the following announcement:

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And so, the fight began! The letters of gold soon dispersed and transformed into a timer, a pair of overlooking health bars, and a pair of empty power gauges floating close to each fighter’s feet. Once the cue was given, Terry and Sho began circling each other, guards high and ready stances assumed. While they seemed to be trying to get into each other’s head, it was clear that both the King of Fighters and the Breaker knew exactly why they picked the same order: they shared similar tools, although with different approaches. While Sho was more of a boxer-puncher, Terry was a unique blend between swarmer and slugger, constantly pressuring his opponents with hard-hitting flails while putting less emphasis on defense. And it showed.

Before Sho could do a thing, Terry had already closed the distance with a series of physical strikes, throwing alternating jabs and a crouching kick. Sho—having a better defensive approach—automatically drew himself back and blocked every jab hurled in his direction, only succumbing to the crouching kick when he failed to block in time. Thankfully, before the three-time KOF champion could punish him, Sho had already managed to steady himself, swarming Terry with an even crazier combo comprising a left hand, an axe kick, a right hand, and eventually, a high-angled roundhouse kick. Thanks to his incredible reflexes, though, Terry managed to duck and slip out of harm’s way from left to right, letting the flails and the axe kick lunge past his head. When the roundhouse kick was delivered, he quickly caught Sho’s flinging leg with both hands, his bare heel close to his face. The wise-cracking King of Fighters waved his finger ‘no’ and smirked.

“Nuh–uh… Dunno there’s more than one line ’round here, do you?”

At the quip, the Breaker gave his more seasoned opponent a quizzical look, his eyebrow arching. The next thing he knew, the three-time KOF champion had already bashed his scarred face with a jab, releasing his grip on the Breaker’s raised leg. Sho was instantly jolted back, his strides wobbling as he covered his nose. He could’ve sworn that small drops of red were close to leaving his nostrils, though the jabbing knuckles weren’t strong enough to restructure his nose.

“Ungh–!!”

“Bingo!”

Not wasting any chance, Terry connected his prior attack with an alternating jab, working on Sho’s midriff with a harsh pow! Once successful, the King of Fighters lifted and ran his knee across his opponent’s torso, propelling both of them out of the deck. As a follow-up, he swiftly tilted his cap back, then smacked the Breaker’s ribs with a fiery, downward fist, dunking the latter back across the deck upon impact.

KA–POW!

“POWER… DUNK!!”

The tactic worked then, and it worked now. It’d been a hot minute since he used the exact ‘two jabs and a Power Dunk’ combo against his opponents. Right after Sho’s back kissed the deck, Terry landed on both of his feet, immediately maintaining an upright posture. He tightened and playfully toyed with each of his biker gloves, glancing up to find that the combo had depleted a quarter of his opponent’s health bar. Meanwhile, his own health bar remained intact.

“Hah! How about that? Still unserious?” Terry quipped, then whistled and tilted his cap back to the front, taunting at the reclining Sho with a waving, beckoning hand. “Hey, c’mon, c’mon!” It was a deliberate move since the taunt could help the King of Fighters build his own power gauge.

Refusing to be punished again, Sho instantly reeled back, then stood out of his prior position, distancing himself from the more seasoned competitor. It was a deliberate move from the Breaker, as well. Once a gap was maintained, he drew and propelled his fiery hand forth, casting a blue fireball onto his opponent.

FWOOSH!

“REKKOU HA!!”

As the fireball travelled closely in the sky, Terry instinctively ducked and flailed the deck, creating an energy shockwave that travelled the ground, instead. The auric shockwave crawled just as fast as the blue fireball flew.

WHAM!

“POWER WAVE!!”

Both projectiles drew closely to each other as if there was an invisible magnet gluing them together. Before they even collided, both Terry and Sho had already left the deck, leaping towards each other past the clashing projectiles to deliver their respective diving kicks. Not only did they share similar tools, it appeared that they shared a brain cell, too. Boot meeting padded foot, none of the kicks seemed to be overcoming one another, as they jolted both competitors back with a light hitspark. Both the King of Fighters and the Breaker curled their toned frames and reeled down, safely and simultaneously descending atop the deck on both feet. They steadied themselves, then took their stances, eyes locking and fists over temples.

“Well, well… Look who’s beaten my mighty kick and despair! I was only warmin’ up, y’see.”

“Can you just stop talking?”

Exasperated, the ever-concentrating Breaker ran forth, then ambushed the wise-cracking King of Fighters with a series of bombarding flails, intending to work on all parts of the latter’s toned frame. His battle cry was spewed, loud and furious.

“SHIPPU SEIKEN TSUKI!!”

In anticipation, Terry placed both of his forearms over his front, letting the bombarding flails work on his forearms and forearms only. Oftentimes, he moved them alternately alongside the motion of the hammering fist, catching each and every flail thrown in his direction.

“Well, that’s a cute special move!” Terry commended with a stifled yet sarcastic grin. “Jeez, I wonder who you got that from. Borrowed it from a certain Kyokugen guy?”

The blonde hotshot was so thrilled that he didn’t quite pay attention to his surroundings, only noticing by then that both the cheers and the jeers had only gotten louder and noisier by the second. Sadly, even though his hardcore fans had started to flock to the ship, their noises were still drowned by the louder bunch of grown men heckling at the erstwhile KOF champion with all kinds of insults, ranging from the mild “boooring!” to the crude “screw you, Terry!” Even random names such as ‘Kyo,’ ‘Iori,’ and even ‘Geese’ were chanted every now and then, despite their absences on the stage. As it was the prior bout, some admirers and hecklers were more thoughtful and pronounced than the rest.

“Let’s go, Terry!” shouted a winged girl clad in rubber armor and broad red skirt.

“Terry sucks!” mocked a mohawked man in a peculiar tattered shirt, his squealing voice overcoming Honey’s gentler one.

“Hey, you take that back!” a goggle-wearing delinquent retorted, nudging Schot’s shoulder with a gloved fist. “Terry doesn’t suck! He’s the champ!”

“Meh… Who cares, lil’ bro? None of that means a damn thing when you’re just another Ken wannabe,” a bandana-wearing blonde man remarked, then rolled his eyes, letting out an unimpressed yawn. “Oh, great, what’s this? Another not-Ryu versus not-Ken snoozefest? Suuure…!! I bet somebody or anybody would watch KOF for this, yeah…”

“Yeah, right, who shoots fireballs like that, anyway? You blast ’em outta your hands, not by punchin’ the ground. It’s so impractical!” a rather fashionable blonde man with a backward cap and sunglasses assessed before informing: “Besides, I heard Ryu’s fightin’ some Ken wannabe back at C-134, and guess what? He bet the livin’ snot outta that chump for good! Really, we don’t need another punk goin’ around and pretendin’ like he’s our boy Ken. That’s just shamelessly disgusting!”

Oh, really? ‘Shameless,’ huh?

Terry could only muse inwardly, as the hecklers went on to list the many reasons to dislike him as if they were writing essays. To think that his similarities with Ken were one of the most prevalent reasons was a little shallow to say the least. He just looked like the Street Fighter Dojo’s resident blonde, not that he fought like him, either. And sure enough, his racing thoughts got the best of him, as his guard began to falter, allowing Sho’s final two consecutive flails to breach through his defense. In an instant, the brunette karateka cancelled the last of the Shippu Seiken Tsuki into Hiji 3 Dan Kougeki, pummeling the King of Fighters with alternating elbows and a rising uppercut.

WHAM!

“Gwahh–!!”

And the Shoryuken-like flail sent the blonde flying to the back, his star-decked back kissing the brim of the higher rear deck. For a moment, Terry sat still, attempting to stand out of his vulnerable position. Thankfully, though, his little guard gauge hadn’t been drained just yet, so he was yet to be stunned.

As he held onto to the upper deck’s precipice to prop himself up, Terry could hear the crowd urging him to stand up and fight back—some saying things as encouraging as “fight, Terry, fight!” while others went as far as saying “whiff him up, baka!” Whether encouraging or discouraging, the crowd’s resounding noises did help the King of Fighters put himself on high alert when the Breaker closed the gap that he’d formerly created with a…

“KURENAI SANDAN GERI!!”

He could already feel the heat of his opponent’s fiery rising kicks even from afar, his widening blue eyes glimmering at the scorching sight. In a blink of an eye, Terry lowered and curled himself, reeling forth to let the series of kicks collide with the whiffling wind. He thought Sho would’ve recovered long enough from that move, considering just how high he leaped past his opponent’s reeling form.

“Whiffed!” Terry playfully shouted, as if informing some rude spectators that he’d heard their suggestions loud and clear. It took Sho a while to descend even after his kicks hit nothing but air, only moments after Terry had stood just behind him. The wise-cracking King of Fighters poked his shoulder with a finger, stifling a giggle.

“Look here~”

And Sho did just as Terry expected. Alerted, he shifted around with a hop, only to find his opponent waving a ‘you can’t see me’ gesture over his face. The theatrical King of Fighters then kneed the oh-so-serious Breaker on the guts, leaving the latter wide-eyed and gasping. While Sho still hunched his shoulders and covered his midriff, Terry grasped him by the collar of his gi, shifted the opposite direction, then brought his entire weight over his shoulder, executing a Buster Throw.

The back throw immediately sent the Breaker tumbling across the deck, causing the ship to rock momentarily. Thankfully, it didn’t take long until he sprung out of his laying position, but considering how much of his health bar had been depleted from his opponent’s collective attacks, he started to hesitate if he was going to last that long in the battle. Knee on the deck, Sho tried to steady himself, tensing and panting. Meanwhile, Terry had just taunted him again with the same old “hey, c’mon, c’mon!” gesture, maintaining a bright exterior amidst the spiteful crowd. That smile, that corny one-liner, they started to look more intimidating now than they were exasperating.

I can’t believe it… This guy has been talking and joking a lot throughout the match. How come his energy is mostly intact, while mine is running out?

But perhaps, he now knew why Terry was dubbed ‘The Legendary Wolf’ by his peers—whether his fellow Esakans liked him or not. Sho soon broke out of his reverie when his more seasoned opponent closed in with a “CRACK SHOOT,” performing a leaping, acrobatic axe kick onto the Breaker. Applying the same tactic that his opponent formerly used, the Breaker quickly reeled forth beneath the King of Fighters’ leaping form, evading the slamming calf entirely. Upon standing up, he noticed that he’d obtained a gauge stock when he glanced down (which was earned through taking hits and building power gauge). Without further ado, he activated the gauge stock, engulfing himself in a flickering flare of pinkish energy. Like a meteor rain, he leaped, then launched himself in Terry’s direction with a downward diving kick, a great fire coating his padded foot.

“KURENAI GANSAI SHUU!!!”

Fortunately for Terry, he had also been equipped with the same amount of gauge stock that Sho activated to execute his ultimate technique. Instantly shifting to face the besieging Breaker, the King of Fighters activated his own stock, his flaring, leading fist raised over his head. He flailed the ground to create a quake that—while not so enormous in size—was capable of rocking the ship uncontrollably, leading some of the jeering spectators to topple out of the makeshift stage. This soon led to the eruption of a fiery torrent tall enough to reach and trap his opponent in mid-air.

KRA–KOOM!

“POWER… GEYSER!!!”

“GWAAHHH–!!”

Thanks to the perfect timing, the Power Geyser immediately connected with the Breaker, the fire around his kicking foot vanishing. The geyser’s mouth flailed his opponent by the torso, forcing massive drops of red to escape his mouth. At the exact same time, their nearest vicinity began to flash red and white, obscuring everything in their paths momentarily.

Sho quickly dropped on the deck, his orange back kissing its brownish surface with a harsh thud! Panting, Terry drew a deep, deep breath before pulling his smoke-covered fist out of the deck, glancing up to find that his opponent’s health bar had been drained completely. As per tradition, the metaphysical bell was rung.

DING!

DING!

Then, the bars and the timer dispersed and merged themselves in the form of floating golden letters that read:

---

---

Upon reading the announcement, Terry excitedly tossed the gaudy red cap worn over his golden head, letting it land near Sho’s reclining form. He shouted victoriously.

“Okay–!!”

Cheers and jeers soon exploded, louder than ever before. Some were happy that Terry had triumphed, while others expressed their discontent with the outcome. Not quite minding all the deafening hecklings obviously directed to him, the three-time KOF champion reached out to the FIST champion, finding that he’d already lifted himself up on one knee. Sho was a little wry, Terry could tell, as much as he tried to maintain a nonchalant look.

“Hey, man, you okay?” he asked his defeated opponent, holding out a helping hand. “Sorry about roughin’ you up. I didn’t mean to break you like that.”

Although hesitating at first, Sho accepted the helping hand, allowing Terry to lift him to his feet. “No, it’s fine. I just…” He stifled his mouth, huffing and dropping his face. “This is it, huh? I guess now I know, no matter how hard I tried to bring the Breakers Dojo to its former glory, nothing will ever bring us back to the middle tier.”

“Aww, c’mon, now! Take that back!” Terry encouraged with a wide grin, nudging Sho’s shoulder with his knuckles. “That was a sick ass fight, alright. You should feel proud. Now, repeat after me. I am legendary. L-E-G-E-N-D-A-R-Y. Legendary!”

“I am legendary,” Sho repeated with a dry voice, then snorted wryly, feeling a little silly after doing what Terry told him.

“Okay! Now, keep that in mind, and I bet you’ll do awesome in your next match,” Terry added, giving Sho a friendly shoulder pat. “And besides, who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be the greatest fighter of all time. I mean, I can already see it. You sound like you can be the next Ryo, the way you fight. You just gotta learn to time your moves right and put all those tools to good use. Being a Shoto is already a great start, though. That makes you the jack-of-all-trades. You have just about everything you need to tackle your opponents.”

Sho grinned, flattered. “You’re only exaggerating this, aren’t you?” he asked. “But thank you, Terry. I’ll keep that in mind. So, all I need to do is just time my moves better and use my—what do you say?—‘tools’ properly, right?”

“Exactly!” Terry confirmed with a nod. “And… sorry if I’ve been jokin’ a hell lot, though. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. Just wanted to melt the tension a bit, is all.” Then, a shrug and a pair of lifted open hands.

“It’s fine. I understand,” Sho reassured, then bowed in front of Terry respectfully. “No hard feelings. You’ve told me everything I needed to hear for my next battles. I guess I start to see why some people are drawn to you, Terry. You really are a legendary kind.” His eyes then glanced sidelong over the children and women celebrating Terry’s victory by the sidelines, as if gesturing to them.

“Likewise,” Terry said, while bumping his knuckles and palm together, bowing in reciprocation. “And remember, say your prayers, eat your veggies, and never ever give up! Your journey’s just getting started, kid, and you better get stronger the next time we meet.”

Sho smiled. “I can promise you that.”

The King of Fighters could feel the heckling spectators beginning to throw all sorts of rubbish in his direction, including toilet papers and a bunch of rotten Wumpa fruits. It couldn’t help when his side of the stage was next to one of the sidelines. Thankfully, both of his partners were likely close to concluding their respective bouts simultaneously, so he didn’t have to endure the deafening “this is ass!” and “same old trash!” much longer. For now on, he could only look around and sigh, smiling wryly at the hecklers.

God, I love my life…

FIN.

Rika turned her gaze away from Pit’s match and towards her brother, who was staring at his phone instead. In one corner, a little window displaying the fight was shown, a red dot indicating it was being recorded.

The shot angle wasn’t great.

The rest of the screen was taken up by a 3d view of Seek walking through a digital archive of forum posts and guides.

”Find anything else?” Rika asked to which her disgruntled brother replied ”Ugh. Kinda. Apparently you need these things called ‘Digimon’ to do hacking? This net setup is so weird”

”Ok… So do you have one?”

”Nope! Trying to figure out how they even work first”

”Alright” Rika replied with a shrug, before leaning in over his shoulder and asking their Ai companion ”Anyone done with their fights yet Seek?” prompting the Net-Navi to pull up a helpful list they had been compiling in the background.

”Uh huh. Yup. Them. Her. Out already?” she said to herself as she went over it before thinking and asking ”Wait, how’d you even know all these people are seekers? And their names?”

”Yeah I didn’t even know that loser was a seeker”

“...”

”You can just do that? Huh” Rika replied to the explanation about matching names to faces the AI had done.

”See this is why I was kinda vague on the emails we sent to Clover’s folks. If any of the Consuls are using people like Seek to keep an eye on stuff we’re in trouble if we don’t act smart” Jr said, tapping his forehead as he did, before saying that ”Like if that one with the four kings cares at all she’ll know we’re already here from the names alone”

”I guess she doesn’t then, if she’s not come after us already”

”I dunno about that. Maybe she’s waiting to see if anyone gets taken out in the tournament? We’re gonna be here till it's done, so she can just sit back and scheme in the mean time” Jr speculated, before adding ”Or maybe she already did with G-Corp, n now that they failed she’s being a bad boss and getting rid of em? Or using em as bait”

”Maybe… Probably should still go after em to find out which it is though, right?” Rika suggested, to which her brother nodded in agreement and then said ”I’ll keep looking stuff up, you make a call n get everyone who’s done to meet up somewhere”

Rika in turn stepped away, raised a gauntleted finger to her ear and then paused as she tried to work out what she should actually say. After thinking for a moment, she ended up falling back on her memories of Abysall fleet radio commands, saying: ”Team members who have completed or failed their matches for the day are to report to the top of the southern Mid-Tier access lift!”

Even as she was saying it, she found she didn’t like it, and so right after adding a ”Um. Please?” followed by ”We were thinking of looking into that G-Corp stuff and it’d be good to, you know, get together n work out who’s actually free to do that stuff”

After having done this, she glanced over at Jr. The boy had been giving her a weird look, but upon meeting her gaze gave a smile and a thumbs up.

Rika sighed a little in relief, and then said, mostly to herself Well… hopefully that’ll work?”

Captain Falcon was glad to see Terry had kept his spirits up after their chat at the Cafe. The man was pretty great at not letting things like a bad situation or booing crowds get him down, and that by itself was respectable. Regardless, the Captain stood at the center of his team when they finally made it to K-32. It looked like a pretty rickety old boat, but Falcon assumed it was sturdier than it looked since otherwise he doubted it would be allowed to be used as a fighting arena. Either that or the Heavenly Principles had some kind of collateral damage protection clause.

Across the way were the Breakers, having boarded the ship from the opposite side. Tia Langrey and Lee Dao-Long were both flanking Sho Kamui, which the Captain assumed meant they’d elected him as their team leader. But it was Lee who Falcon focused his attention on. He met the Breaker’s gaze for a moment as he boldly held up two gloved fingers. It was a silent message intended for Lee, letting him know without words which number Captain Falcon intended to choose for his team order. It served as an invitation for Lee to choose the same number if he still wanted that rematch.

Lee narrowed his eyes a moment before nodding his head in understanding. Message received, and he even held up two fingers himself to signal back his agreement. So it was no surprise to anyone when both fighters heard their names matched together when the beginning of the round was announced.

“Finally…” Lee said, tearing off his white jacket and flinging it aside as he dropped into his martial arts stance before the bells even sounded.

DING!

DING

Captain Falcon grinned, ”Can’t say I blame you.” He said, throwing a few shadow punches before tightening into his own iconic fighting stance. ”I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to this too.”

“Then ready yourself, Captain!”

”Show me your moves!”

---

---

Captain Falcon moved like a fiery blaze, ”Falcon Kick!” His voice shouted as he shot forward along the ground with his sliding kid wreathed in heated flames. But Lee was also fast, and moved like lightning to backflip out of the way of Cap’s Falcon Kick only to immediately leap forward and bring his elbow down onto Falcon from above with his Shoutenchuu technique.

Falcon was quick enough to block the downward elbow and responded by launching upward from his already-crouched position and slamming Lee with a leaping uppercut, ”Ryuuga!” And that was about when the heckling from the audience started. This time they weren’t just jeering at Terry, but at Falcon, too.

“Oh come ON!” shouted the backwards-cap guy. “ANOTHER Ryu/Ken clone? How many are there?”

“Too many…” grumbled the mohawked man.

“Hey, don’t be like that!” the goggled delinquent interjected, “That’s the guy who took out Kung Fu Girl with an explosive punch, so he’s not an exact clone.”

Cap, like always, regarded the jeering by simply letting his actions speak for themselves. He was confident he could win over any fan just by being his usual self. Lee was quick to recover from the Ryuuga, even managing to reorient himself in midair to land on his feet. Then he slapped his palms together and thrust his hands forward.

“KOU RYUUGA!”

That motion channeled his chi into a blue dragon head that flew at Captain Falcon as a projectile attack. So the bounty hunter responded with a special move of his own, planting his feet and thrusting his own hands forward while connecting them at the palms.

”RYUUGEKI KEN!”

Reddish orange flames of chi burst from Captain Falcon’s hand. And although it didn’t produce a projectile like Lee’s did, the burst of flames still caught the incoming chi-dragon and caused the moves to cancel each other out. It made for a surprisingly flashy way to block the Hadouken-like dragon head.

“Seriously? Even the other guy is using Hadoukens?”

“True, but did you see how that Falcon guy blocked it? Pretty creative use of a special move, if nothing else.”

Lee, like Falcon, elected to ignore the peanut gallery. He couldn’t care less about impressing an audience or about what any of them thought of him or his fighting style. His focus was entirely on defeating Captain Falcon right now. Through the cloud of smoke that kicked up from their clashing chi moves, Lee lunged through the air and brought his arms around into a circular dual chop down onto Falcon who just barely wasn’t able to dodge in time.

“SHIN KYOKU RANBU!”

Falcon was punished for his failure to avoid the opening move by being caught up in a highspeed combo as Lee came at him with a flurry of punches and kicks. This all culminated in an upward spiral kick that hit the bounty hunter multiple times before finally letting him be launched away from Lee who landed gracefully back onto the ground.

“Okay…” one of the heckling viewers conceded with a low whistle, “...I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ryu or Ken pull a move like THAT. Not bad.”

“See? Told ya they weren’t actually clones!” said the goggled delinquent in smug triumph.

Falcon was similarly quick to recover. No sooner than he hit the ground he was already kicking himself back onto his feet and ready for more. He lunged a few steps toward Lee only to launch into a double spinning kick that Lee was able to block. But now that they were in such close range it became a flurry of traded strikes, some blocked, and others not. It was becoming apparent that these two were fighting almost exactly on equal footing. Emphasis on “almost”, because the Captain had a certain trump card he’d yet to play.

In the heat of their flurry of exchanges, Captain Falcon reared his fist back for a fiery wind up.

”FALCON…”

Lee caught on and responded appropriately, immediately backflipping away from the bounty hunter’s arm reach and putting up a defensive block for good measure. But the Falcon Punch he was expecting never came. Instead he realized all too late that his opponent had vanished from view and was now behind him.

Cap, having used the opening wind-up of his Falcon Punch as a feint, used the opportunity to pivot around to Lee’s flank. And at that moment, he consumed all three stocks of the Power Gauge that had been building up throughout the entire fight and his body flashed into the pinkish aura of Max Mode. Time for the Climax.

Cap lunged forward and tagged Lee with an upward reverse-kick that launched the Breaker up into the air. Then the bounty hunter chased his opponent into the air and unleashed an aerial Gen’ei Kyaku that battered Lee with a barrage of kicks. Then Falcon pushed himself up off from Lee’s descending form as his leg became wrapped in blazing hot fire.

”MU-EI SENPUU… FALCON KICK!”

Cap’s kick crashed down into Lee’s falling body and delivered a multi-hit blow as both fighters descended back down to the deck of the boat they’d been fighting on. And while Captain Falcon had kicked himself off of Lee and landed gracefully, Lee was lying on the boat deck in a singed heap.

DING!

DING!

---

---

Falcon gave a victorious grin and offered a gloved thumbs-up as cheers and a few jeers erupted at the result of the fight.

“Did you see that finisher?”

“Yeah I saw it!”

“That flaming kick, tho!”

“Well, they’re called Climax Moves for a reason, yeah?”

But Captain Falcon ignored all of that. Instead he walked toward Lee’s reclined form and offered the Breaker a hand. Lee just smirked as he took the Captain’s hand and stood back up. “Good fight, Captain.” He offered after they shook hands.

”That was good fighting, yourself.” Falcon replied to the compliment with one of his own, ”You got me good with that Ranbu of yours.”

“Thanks.” Lee said, “One more thing, Captain. Don’t you dare lose now. If I’m going to be defeated, I want it to be at the hands of the one who went on to become the champion. And… do our Dojo proud while you’re at it.”

”Yeah.” Cap said with a thumbs up. ”I’ll do that.”

—
Sakura never took her opponents lightly, but as she advanced into Winners Round Three she would expect the caliber of said opponents to rise. Whoever made it this far made it past the big ‘filter’ of the first two matches in winners. Either they had strong fundamentals or powerful gimmicks, rarely would luck carry a fighter through two separate bouts.

So far she hadn’t been doing much exploring or doing much of anything except resting and meditating between bouts, and then fighting. Despite being surrounded by people all excited about fighting, there was something lonely about pools. Not necessarily in a bad way or in a way she couldn’t handle, but lonely nonetheless. There was no hype from the crowd, and the thrill of victory would be muted by the crushing weight of a defeat so early on. In pools there was little to gain and everything to lose.

As she predicted, her next foe looked to be her toughest yet. Standing stoically across the ring from her was a large, fat fighter, wearing green shorts and orange bracelets around his limbs. Atop his head was a high crested golden crown. The rest of his golden brown skin was exposed. His build reminded Sakura of one E. Honda. Overweight, but deliberately so. Despite their build differences, at this level of skill having bigger muscles was no guarantee of actually being physically stronger than another fighter. That all came down to training, level of ki, and how one let that ki be expressed. So while she could guess that he was a brawny fighter who liked to throw his weight around, she couldn’t take that for granted.

“I am Golrio.” Golrio said, arms crossed.

”I am Sakura.” Sakura said, crossing her arms.

“Why do you fight, Miss Sakura?” Golrio asked.

Sakura stopped looking tough, and instead thoughtfully tapped her chin. ”Good question, Golrio-san. I’m not sure sometimes. Because it’s fun? Or maybe because I seek strength or purpose. Today, though, it’s because winning this tournament is very important for a cause I’m involved with. So I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going all out.”

Golrio nodded. “I understand. I too, fight for a cause. Mother Nature, the Earth itself, the delicate ecosystems by which all life and thus we humans rely on, is being thrown dangerously out of balance by human activity. While I used to be a bodyguard for the rich and powerful, when I learned how dire the situation of environmental degradation was, I travelled into the amazon rain forest to become one with nature. I learned to harness the awesome might of jungle chi, and now I travel the world to spread awareness for the environmental cause.”

Sakura was impressed. ”That’s really noble, Golrio-san!”

“Are you environmentally conscious, young miss Sakura?”

”Aah, eto…” Sakura blushed, rubbing the back of her head. ”I uh…I ride a bike?” Sakura offered.

“Hmm.” Golrio didn’t seem too impressed.

”A-and I took down two evil criminal organizations!” Sakura pointed.

“Did they have bad environmental policy?” Golrio asked.

”Uh, I dunno but- I mean, there’s no way they had good environmental policy.” Sakura said.

“I see. You took down two evil criminal organizations?”

”Err, well…I helped.”

“How old are you, anyway? You seem a little young to engage in such matters of law enforcement.”

”Eighteen. But my birthday is coming up soon! I did the first one when I was fifteen and the second one a few months ago. Or, like, a thousand years ago, depending on who you ask.”

“I don’t understand your meaning.”

”Just forget it.” Sakura shook her head. The whole thing made her noggin hurt. Now was the time to think about the moment in front of her.

”The worries of the world melt away in fight.” Sakura said like she was recalling a fond dream.

“I disagree strongly.” Golrio replied.

Sakura lowered her lids. Now it was her turn to be unimpressed. A strong spirit bubbled up inside her once again. ”Okay, Golrio-san. I’ll give you a battle so tough you’ll be too worried about yourself to even think about the Earth.” Golrio narrowed his eyes.

“Kick her butt, bro!” Someone shouted from the stands.

Surprised that someone was watching, Sakura looked to the stands to see Two P in the audience, all alone. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Woooo! Alright, yeah! Go Gorlio, go!”

“It’s ‘Golrio’.” Golrio said.

“Yeah, that! Kick her butt!”

”Why do you want him to kick my butt?” Sakura asked. ”You should be rooting for me! You know? So that way if I win, it’s like, you lost to the winner?”

“That’s a good point.” Two P called out. “But I still want him to kick your butt.”

”That’s just dumb.”

“You’re just dumb.” Two P said.

Sakura faked Two P out like she intended to hit him, and he flinched even at long distance.

”Two for flinching. I’ll sort you out later. Right now I got bigger fish to fry.”

“Hmm.” Golrio shook his head disapprovingly. “Not even the fish in the ocean are safe from being scorched and devoured by the callous youth.”

”Wha-! Okay! You know what?!” Sakura stamped her foot. ”I like seafood! And I’m not even a little bit sorry about it. So there.”

Golrio laughed, sudden and hearty, lifting his hands above his head, before stomping back down into his fighting stance. “We will see who will fry who.”

ROUND ONE.

Sakura bounced back and forth on her sneakers and settled into her lively, animated stance.

THREE. TWO. ONE. FIGHT!

”Hadoken!” She brought her hands towards her side and then thrusted her palms out, sending a fiery blue ball towards Golrio, the imprint of her hands left inside.

“Amazon Fire!” He put his two hands together in front of his core to create a small flaming orb, before lifting it up and pushing it towards her where it expanded into a blazing orange wave. The two collided in mid air, dissipating in an explosion.

He fired out another blast, but Sakura took the time to charge hers up. His flame drew close, but she blasted through it, her two hit heavy fireball shrinking inside but continuing forward. Golrio had to match her fireball with a second of his own- and as he did, he would be surprised to see Sakura emerging from the resulting explosion. She had closed the gap quickly!

He chopped downward with a blazing hand, only for Sakura to draw back at the last moment and return with a roundhouse kick that sent the large man flying through the air. She rolled forward and kneed his torso, before launching up with a massive leaping uppercut. ”Shouoken!”

Golrio landed with a thud but rolled back to standing. Sakura grinned, pleased with her good start to the round. She made to walk in, but was forced to block a fast Amazon Fire. He swung his palm towards her head and she ducked, and then blocked his follow up side kick. Her series of jabs and kicks were absorbed by his forearms and knee, and when she went to knock him off balance with a throw, he steadied himself and shoved her away. “Not so fast.”

As the two jockeyed for positioning, Sakura trying to force him towards the edge of the arena, Golrio surprised her. Golrio suddenly shot forward, his entire body engulfed in flames. He body checked her, sending her sprawling before she flipped back to standing. When she looked at him, Golrio was on his belly, arms outstretched, spinning towards her legs like a top!

”Bwah!” Sakura was flipped upside down as he collided with her legs. She landed on her back, just in time to see him in the air coming down to squish her with a blazing stomp. She rolled out of the way, but he rolled after her just as smoothly, and when she went to get up she gasped as he locked her arms around her waist, belly-to-belly in a bearhug.

Sakura had a pretty smooth run up to this point, but pain was just part of the gig. Between her time as a street fighter and a Seeker, she was used to it. It would have been nice to have flawless victories all the way to Top 8. Oh well.

”Gaaah!” She cried out as he squeezed her torso in a vice. She went to grab his head to break free, but he slammed her down onto the floor.

He went for a point blank Amazon Fire scorching that she had to curl up and block while she laid down. He stomped down onto her block, but she redirected his leg and rolled back up to her feet. He went in for another grab but she grabbed onto both of his wrists, stopping him dead in his tracks. She lifted both of her feet, using his outstretched arms as leverage to do a powerful dropkick to the face. “Umph!” He grunted and stumbled backwards as she flipped away to land on her feet.

Sakura put both of her hands on her lower back and pushed her body outwards with a grimace. ”I always thought bearhugs were cool. I used to want to be a sumo wrestler. Now, though, no freaking way.”
“What do bearhugs have to do with sumo?” Golrio asked.

”...Huh. I guess they usually are too big to do that to each other. I guess it only works when you’re fighting non sumo wrestlers.”

“Hmm.” Golrio stepped forward, and Sakura locked back in.

Golrio launched himself clear across the entire arena again, blazing in flame. Sakura spent an EX-meter to meet him in the air, glowing even more vibrantly. ”Drop!” She slammed both of her fists down and beat out his Rolling Body Attack, snuffing out his flame. She struck him twice more and flattened him against the arena floor. ”Ichi, ni, san!”

“Grrr!” Golrio growled. Sakura span mid air in an acrobatic arc, and landed on his back as he stood up. She wrapped her arms around neck and squeezed. Now it was her turn to really lay the hurt on. He tried to work his fingers underneath her arms but her grip was too tight.

He grabbed on anyway and began to heat up, starting to burn her arms. Sakura winced, but held fast. He made to jump into the air to slam back down onto the floor to dislodge her, but Sakura released one arm and brought her elbow down sharp on the top of his skull. Golrio’s eyes crossed and he toppled forward face down, stunned.

Sakura jumped upwards and went to bring her leg down ontop of him. He rolled out of the way but was still on her mix, and she kicked him once before hitting him with a grounded spin kick.

Then, Sakura went to- “SUPER TURTLE SPIN STRIKE!!!”

Golrio launched himself at Sakura, spinning so fast he blurred, bouncing off the ground and her body absurdly fast. Sakura felt like she just got sucked into a blender. The damage was ridiculous. Sakura wasn’t even exactly sure what part of her was being hit.

In summary: ”UWAAAAAH!” Sakura flew through the air and landed on her back, teeth grit and eyes squeezed shut. She lay, unable to get up in time for Golrio to not get the victory in round one.

GOLRIO WINS ROUND ONE!

“You are one stroke below me.” Golrio informed Sakura wisely.

Sakura groaned and sat up. She felt full of vitality before getting hit by that move. It was shocking that even his last ditch attack would put her down that hard. She would have to watch out for that technique next time she was on the verge of victory.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Sakura stood up and dusted herself off. If she went down like that again, she was in the losers bracket, and then winning the tournament would become nearly impossible.

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

Golrio, overconfident in Sakura’s mind, surged forward with another flaming rolling body attack. She went to kick him out of the air with a high-legged Chin Buster Kick, but he actually just missed Sakura and landed right behind her. Thus, she ended up in a bearhug again, though this time his hands were locked in front of her belly rather than her back. It was like the world’s worst heimlich maneuver. Sakura’s eyes bulged.

She was slammed face down on the ground again, and, fed up, she erupted out with an EX-Shouoken that blew right through his follow up attack and knocked him away.

She charged up a powerful fireball and launched it at him. He did another flaming body attack over it, but this time Sakura met him in the air. ”Oops!” She said, planting her shoes on him and kicking him towards the floor.

“Oof!” He landed with a heavy thud. When he got up, there was another heavy fireball coming his way. Too late to dodge, he blocked it, only to get kneed in the back of the head by an aggressive Sakura.

Now it was Golrio’s turn to be in the blender. Everywhere he looked there was a jab, his leg buckled under harsh knee kicks. When he blocked, his forearms were hammered by painful elbows that gave him no relief. When he swung, he got nothing but air, and when he tried to grab her his fingers brushed against the zipper of her open jacket and he was punished thoroughly with spin kicks.

There was only one way out.

”SUPER TURTLE SPIN STRIKE!!!!””

”Aaaaah!” Despite telling herself that she would be more careful, in her fervor to claim another round, she hadn’t been prepared to block it.

When she landed, Sakura punched the floor and stood back up. Golrio hadn’t softened her up at all this round, and so she survived his attack.

”You’re gonna get it now.” Sakura warned, pumping her fists like shotguns as she ignited in flame, activating Sakura Senpu, her V-Trigger 2.

She ran towards him, then shifted left, then right, then jumped clear over his head and landed behind him, and then dodged out of the way of his attempted chop. She eyed him down the whole time. Golrio was being outmaneuvered. Every moment she was just out of range was a moment she could be upon him in a blink- the brazilian jungle warrior was overwhelmed by the possibilities.

To get some space, he charged up a fireball, and- his leg was tagged by a light little kick from Sakura. The range of it was deceptive.

Sakura turned into a sawblade, leg extended, a pure, clean beam of light following her circular strike as she went to sand Golrio’s face clean off. She launched him into the air with another kick to the chin. She rolled forward, kneed him, and then launched him up with one uppercut, followed him before he could land, and then lifted upwards with a spectacular spinning Shouoken, aglow with blue energy.

“OOOOGH!” Golrio flew away and landed face down, unable to get up before he was counted out.

SAKURA WINS ROUND TWO!

Sakura crossed her arms, satisfied.”That was a close one.”

Golrio stood up and shook his head.

FINAL ROUND. FIGHT!

Golrio felt like Sakura was going to jump in or try to predict another one of his moves, so this time, he played it cool, waiting for his moment.

Sakura promptly, calmly, walked up to him and shoved him to the floor with a hip toss. She dusted off her hands. ”Whoops.”

Golrio rose to his feet with a growl. She punched him in the nose and hip tossed him again.

“Enough!” He shot up with a blazing Rolling Body attack, but she caught his arm and shoulder and converted it into an over-the-shoulder toss throw that slammed him face first into the ground.

Sakura felt like she had his number, now. Everything was working.

The two exchanged blows, and Golrio chopped Sakura’s noggin and tried to grab her, but this time she slipped away. Rubbing the top of her head, she stopped his advance with a kick to the chest. When Golrio tried to shift backwards, she shot out a crouching kick at his leg and then spun upwards with a ”Shunpu!” kick across the face.

Golrio was stuck. He found a gap in her offence and slapped at her with palm strikes, and used an Amazon Flame to shove her away. When he went for another one to keep her off, she was already halfway through a jump. Head kick, elbow strike, pendulum swing, ”Shouoken!”

Golrio landed. Sakura felt like this was going very well. She ran up to him and-

“SUPER TURTLE SPIN STRIKE!”

”Haaaaaah!”

While an amateur like Two P heard Golrio shout ‘Super Turtle Spin Strike’ and Sakura scream out might draw the conclusion that Sakura had fallen for it again… a professional fighter or someone who had heard Sakura do battle before would come to an altogether different conclusion.

As Golrio span forward, he would feel the alarming sensation of Sakura’s sneaker shoot touchdown on his spine. He tried to grab the floor the slow down, but his move was so powerful it was hard to stop.

Using him as a platform, Sakura launched into her signature ”Haru Ichiban!”

Normally this move would involved her slamming into her opponents lower half with repeated grounded spin kicks. Instead, she span counter-clockwise to Golrio’s clockwise spin. And since she was on his back, all of her kicks would slam into his head instead. At double the pace.

THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP THWAP CRACK CRACK!

Sakura’s spin slowly came to a stop like the cooling down rotor of a jet engine, leaving a smoking scorch mark on Golrio’s back from the friction. She stood up on top of him and then stepped off. ”Yeah, that’s a wrap.”

Golrio was face down on the floor unconscious. There’d be no post battle banter this time.

SAKURA WINS!

With a grin, Sakura raised her eyebrows at the frightened Two P.

“I think you killed him!” He called out distantly.

”Nah. He’s tough, he’ll be fine.” Sakura said. She was right, though, Golrio would be taking a well-deserved nap for quite a while.

Sakura let out a relieved exhale, glad to still be in the Winners Side of the bracket. Things would only get tougher from here.

Sleep came quickly, but rest was slower to follow. Disturbed sleep was a fact of life for someone with the kind of experiences she had; it was simply a consequence of being someone renowned as both a warrior and a person of conscience. Too often had a mountain of bodies haunted her in the night, both those foes that had fallen before her blade and friends who were gone all too soon. The simple fact of the matter was that, for the last decade, Yayama had been surrounded by death. Even before that, she had been no stranger to it, having lived through the Seventh Umbral Calamity.

Of course, none of that is really you, is it? Not that I'm taking credit for it, either; I'm even more of a fake than you. As you pointed out, I shouldn't be here. The real Yayama Yama, the actual Warrior of Darkness, she already dealt with this. You, though, you shattered at the first blow. That's why I'm here. It's alright, though. I'll protect you. From the outside, anyway. As one of your inner demons, I can't exactly fend the rest off, can I?

A memory came to her in the haze of unconsciousness. Hers, but not hers, at once. A memory of a different life, one of an uncountable number. A different Yayama, a different false hero planted in a different fake place in a different time in this false world. Companions she didn't recognize surrounded her as they strode into a ruined castle, wielding strange weapons or stranger powers. A shadow blotted out the setting sun; she knew that they feared it beyond anything else, but also that it was their goal.

Death enveloped her once more. First it took the man in brightly colored armor; the yellow flash of his barrier was invisible beneath the stream of flame that left nothing but ash and molten metal behind. An explosive fireball took the next, hurling the monochromatic woman into a wall with a sickening crunch. The third fell to slashing claws, the black dragon tearing through plate armor like wet paper. Then, it was her turn, eyes filled with hatred giving way to snapping jaws. She felt fangs pierce her chest and rip her asunder before the memory faded.

She isn't here.

The rest of her dreams continued in a similar vein. It didn't matter what the leadup was, the ending was always the same. A foe she couldn't hope to surmount, and her being the last to fall. A realization, perhaps some spark of the template she'd been endlessly copied from shining through, that her greatest source of strength wasn't here. One could not have Darkness without Light. Their destinies had been too closely entwined for them to survive without one another. Or, perhaps, that was some twisted form of wishful thinking. After all, at the end of the day, Yayama Yama was not the savior of Eorzea. That honor belonged to another.

This came with another realization. Somehow, she knew, since the beginning, that she and that savior had not once met since the beginning of this endless now. Whatever the true nature of the force maintaining this place was, it had not once deigned to place them together. Perhaps it knew that it wouldn't survive the combination.

Perhaps it was just cruel.

...

Yayama awoke early, somehow groggier than when she went to bed. She stared up at the ceiling for what felt like a small eternity. The silence shattered with a burst of profanity, Yayama fighting off the urge to smash everything nearby in a fit of rage. The squall passed after a few moments, leaving behind a feeling of empty loneliness. "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other," she told herself as she forced herself to roll out of bed. The sun was barely peeking through her window as she pulled on her clothes on. "Fake or not, people are counting on you now."

That, and you need to take your revenge.

"That too," she grumbled, before she headed out of her room and down the stairs. She wasn't about to get back to bed, so despite the hour, she figured she may as well get out and about. With a short wave to the staff on duty (a single woman who barely looked awake) she headed out the door and back into the streets of Esaka once more, in search of some small good to do.

Some way along the same wooden bridge that Terry, Sho, the Captain and Lee where about to square off on, a young kickboxer paused halfway through doing her hair up into a ponytail, blinking in confusion as the Heavenly Principles applied their balancing changes. Before her had been a white wolf, which had been a little strange but not entirely out there. Now, as the heavens bestowed upon her sight beyond sight that she might be able to truly see her opponent, there stood before her something far more divine.

Amaterasu for her part wasn’t quite as surprised this time as she had been when this had happened with Rare, but she was still taken a little aback when the woman, one Tia Langray, was only struck with awe for a pair of heartbeats. Then she shrugged, finished doing up her hair, and then got into a fighting pose.

The divine wolf let like she was owed just a little more reverence than that.

Then again, this was a lot more preferable to the monster that was Rare mouthing off at her for her deceptiveness (as if the mortals not being able to see her true divinity was her fault) so she got over her own feelings after a mere moment too, and went into her own fighting stance.

---

---

Right out the bat, Tia whipped a fist around to launch a “Rapid Gale!” towards the divine wolf

Amaterasu dodged to the left to avoid it, claws digging into the wooden bridge as she lunged, and then again as she brought herself to a stop before she went over the side.

Unlike on the nice round island, space was at a premium here, and Tia took full advantage as she leapt up and brought down a “Soul Spike!” towards the divine wolf.

The kick slammed down into the deck as the divine wolf backed up, paws not positioned to move to the right due to her leftward lunge.

Having planned for this, Tia lunged out of her landing pose into a lunging jab that bopped the wolf right on the snout. Not able to chase any more form that position, she comboed the punch into another “Rapid Gale!” that knocked the wolf entirely out of her reach.

A fair amount of effort for what was ultimately light damage.

The divine wolf caught herself with her claws, and then shook her fur as Tia got back to her feet.

The mortal woman closed in again, but the divine wolf had a read on her now. She was, ultimately, only human.

Which meant she had to be careful, just in an entirely different manner to the fight with Rare.

She ducked around a probing punch from Tia, and then, rather than drive her sun disk home like she was entirely capable of doing, head butted the kickboxer in the stomach, knocking her back.

She then made a grab for the woman’s bandage protected arms with her jaw, only to get a lignthing fast kick to the jaw for her efforts.

She then rushed to capitalize, delivering an elbow jab into left-hook combo and then rolling it straight into a ”Mirage Spear Kick!” that struck the wolf thrice before she was knocked out of its reach.

Amaterasu, upon recovering from that strike, promptly stayed out of Tia’s reach, circling the woman like a mundane wolf. Seeking an opening for a grab.

“Stupid animal! You're losing, you can’t run out the timer!” one of Terry’s hecklers yelled over, but that sort of crowd wasn’t here for her. Instead it was a small gaggle of Yokai that had it out for the divine wolf

“Rigged! Match thrower!” Yelled one who’d seen her fight at the teahouse

“You're disrespecting Jun Kazama’s blessing, you useless goddess!” Called out the one who’d tried to steal her letter of recommendation

“To chicken to use that sword on a human are ya?!” shouted another she’d cut to ribbons during the seethe

That last one caused her ears to flap down because, in a way, it was true.

She was worried about harming this blameless human.

“Sword?” Tia echoed in confusion, because the wolf hadn’t even equipped the blade for this fight. Not that she’d been using her sun disk or devout beads either.

The kick boxer frowned, thinking for a moment, before taking an unnecessary gamble and closing the distance on the wolf by expending a super gage and using ”Burning Revolver!” to go rocketing towards her.

The divine wolf’s eyes opened wide, she tried to move out the way, recognized in a moment of paused time she’d never make it, and then made a decision. Her back arched, her divine disk swung out, and struck the side of the living projectile. The disk slammed into the divine wolf’s side, but stayed between her and Tia’s energy, allowing her to slide past the super with merely singed fur.

The two hit the deck, back to back, and there was a pause in the fight.

“So those aren't just for show then?” Tia asked casually as she turned back, before flipping her pony tail and crouching down into her fighting stance and demanding “Come on, show me what you can really do!”

The wolf crouched down into her own, but uncertainty still gripped her heart. Time, however, was running out, as if she didn’t even the damage scales, the ticking timer would seal her fate.

As it turned out, however, it wasn’t the divine wolf for whom the clock of inevitability was going to be ringing.

DING!

DING!

---

---

Tia blanched at the news, but then regained her composure, starting to call out “Come on Lee we can still-” to her still standing team member, only for him to let her down.

DING!

DING!

---

---

DING!

DING!

---

---

“Awwww” Tia groaned, standing up straight and then kicking the deck of the bridge, lightly scuffing it. That was her only show of disappointment however. The Yokai were a bit more noisy as they actively booed Amaterasu

“Dead weight!” “Carried!” “Worthless goddess!”

“Oh get lost would you!” Tia yelled at them, before sighing and stuffing her bandaged hands in her pockets and addressing the goddess “You were holding back, weren't you? I get that you think you were trying to be nice, but that’s just kinda rude”

The wolf had the good graces to look a little embarrassed about this fact.

Tia sighed, and then pulled a hand out of her jacket to remove her hair tie and let her hair down. As she said “I don’t know what you are, but trust me. We’re fighters. We know we’re going to get hurt. So if you want to win this, to be a credit to your team, you gotta give it your all, ok?” ending what had been a through dressing down with a thumbs up and an encouraging smile.

The divine wolf looked at this gesture, over where the other fighters were, hers who had ‘carried’ her, Tia's who had let her down, and then back at the kickboxer, to which she extended the rare privilege of an imitation of a human gesture: a simple nod.

“Good!” Tia replied with a clap of her hands. Then she turned to go meet up with her team mates and, as did she said “next time then, we’ll fight for real!” before hurrying off, leaving the divine wolf with her thoughts and burdens.

It was a bone tired Edward that sat back down as the evening drew late. Sword fighting practice after stomach turbulence had perhaps not been his wisest decision, but he had owed it to Ramatta to help him hone his edge with his new, well, edge. Plus raising their little army’s fighting capabilities was worth it on its own merits.

It was only after he sat down on the couch next to the dozing traffikrab that he realized he had entirely forgotten to ask the omnic about what space had been like.

Well. There was always tomorrow, he supposed. The machine man was perfectly pleasant to interact with after all, so having something to discuss with him while traveling was a boon in a way.

Still, having recalled something he had forgotten to do reminded Edward to do another thing, and that was to see to the non-food related resources the Ace Cadet had acquired, especially the Palladium. This necessitated stomping back out into the cold again as the man retrieved the ore from the stage coach, and prepared to send them to the avenger for processing. As for how he was going to get them processed, he did the same as they had with their spare pal-sphere, namely cutting a page from his journal and using it to write a note which he sent along with the ore, requesting its usage in manufacturing more spheres. He also sent the silver and sticks and stones Ace had collected back as well. He wasn’t exactly sure about those last bits, but the man had collected them for a reason, and so into the armory they went.

He could only hope the process of pal sphere creation was simple enough that it could be prepared before they set off the next day. Otherwise the snoruyo’s inability to keep up with the stage coach when traveling at full clip was going to be an issue.

With that resolved, the man dearly wished to return to the warmth, but instead had to preoccupy himself with ensuring their defense.

Destroyed drones were replaced, and the remainder recalled to form a proper perimeter around the manor. He also moved the impossible creatures around, such that there were groups near each of the obvious entrances. Naturally, they'd be sleeping but as a backup to the drones, they’d suffice.

Such a backup was needed because he himself could not exactly actively monitor the drones while he was sleeping. They’d alert him if they were destroyed, or spotted something big, but something subtle could get past them.

Thus the impossible creatures.

Thus, also, a few spider thread based trip wires rigged to fire random armory firearms, which he was sure to inform the others about.

With all that set up, the man finally retired to one of the rooms. There he finally removed his armor, got in some good stretches, and retired to bed. With his new Traffikrab companion at the foot of the bed, a sword and pistol on the nightstand, and a rifle leaned up against the wall, the Dreadnaught finally allowed himself to fully relax, and, soon enough, drifted off to sleep.

Following the make-shift dinner that Ace and Edward had thrown together, there wasn't much left to be done that evening. Extra ingredients joined the raw materials in the coach (the cold would keep them just fine outside), those who could spare the manpower established a loose perimeter to keep watch, the spider hairs used as bio-samples were stored... wherever they were stored, and at some point a few of the Seekers who'd apparently been sucked into some sort of game enabled by Tenna returned. That had been a strange thing to hear had happened.

Though Ace had joked with Geralt earlier about getting first pick of rooms, the hunter didn't actually need one all to himself. Sure, it would be nice, but he wasn't shy and didn't need more than a mattress (or a couch, or a sleeping mat really). Once people got around to actually retiring, he gladly offered Mokou, Sectonia, and even Blazermate (who was a robot but also a girl) the chance to have a space to themselves. Sandalphon had already made herself scarce, or else she would have been included. He'd have to ask her about the space video tomorrow.

As the night wore on Ace covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. He had some things he could take care of now, and probably should, but a few could be pushed off until the morning. Anything he could make in the Alchemy Barrel could be done during the next leg of the trip, for example. Speaking of, he sort of wanted to see if could make a Pal Sphere with it - but, that too could be an experiment for tomorrow. After shedding his coat and resigning to sleep in the rest of his clothes once they were dry in case the group needed to move out quickly, the Cadet flopped down onto one of the sleeping mats he'd bought earlier in an unclaimed space in the living room. He did indulge in making a sphere the way it was intended with a few small tools (that he'd ultimately leave shoved to one side close to his sleeping spot overnight) and found that it was actually as easy as it sounded. Definitely reproducible. Pleased with the result, he dropped the sphere into his bag.

One other item of house keeping, that didn't actually involve the house they were staying in, was making use of the last couple of spirits before they expired. Ace's preference was, predictability, to itemize them - and he had a few that hadn't yet been crushed including the one he'd just brought back. Without bothering to mess around with the chest-shaped helmet again (which would have involved going to bother someone connected to the Avenger's armory), he crushed the two somnacanth spirits and one giant wooly spider spirit between his hands.

Once everything was more or less done, the Cadet crossed his arms behind his head and laid down properly. The mysterious pup had wandered over once more, but it didn't bunk with him - heading off toward someone else after a few scratches behind the ear. Though thoughts of the trek ahead of them and how the other contingent of Seekers were doing circled his head, it wasn't enough to keep the monster hunter from sleep. It wasn't much longer until he drifted off, more or less comfortable and snoring softly.




Primrose ended up missing the end of Ms. Fortune's first match, which wasn't all that surprising - they only lasted so long after all. Though it definitely contributed to missing the match, she didn't regret taking the time to chat with Yayama whatsoever. She'd gotten to know a little about the diminutive woman, which was a worthwhile endeavor even over seeing the end of a battle she knew that her friend would win. Though the dancer still wanted to get a chance to talk with Nadia properly following last night, since it appeared that Nadia wasn't intending to drop out of the tournament series... well, it would be easy enough to know where to find her later. All Primrose had to do was look at one of the bracket boards.

She did just that, confirming that Nadia had won her first match up. She noted that Pit had won his as well, and she'd seen the tail end of Yayama's victory for herself. Mortal Kombat was going well for the Seekers so far.

The bracket postings between sections shifted between the four different tournaments, and Primrose noted the standing of the rest of the Seekers while she was there. She'd continued on her leisurely stroll, but didn't particularly want to pace the length of the Pools to look out for her teammates. There was another place and another person she intended to meet up with.

On her way she passed a rather eye catching woman in a short robe with a huge purple braid that rivaled Primrose's own. She turned heads as she walked on the water's edge, including Primrose's, the Seeker watching her go by as they passed each other. Her gaze lingered not just because of the other woman's features. She didn't look like a fighter... but then again, the variety of people Primrose had seen around town and in the Pools might beg to differ.

Eventually she made her way down a level, inadvertently missing a few of the others running around the Low Tier. The dancer sauntered into a nondescript establishment, drawing a few eyes herself. There was a small handful of yokai floating around, watching mounted screens and hanging over the shoulders of other guests, arguing with each other and half-whispering recommendations, but for the most part there were humans and humanoids ordering rudimentary food fare and passing zenny and slips of stamped paper between each other. It was far from the classy backrooms of Mesón De Las Flores, but it served the same purpose.

Unsurprisingly Therion had a seat on the far wall, a few slips of his own in his hand and his ears twitching on top of his head as he took in the myriad of conversations going on. He was not surprised to see Primrose, as the two of them had spoken briefly again over the linkpearl on her way over. He nodded to the only other chair at his small table, which Primrose claimed without a second thought. She rested her elbow on the wooden top, dropping her chin into her waiting hand as she surveyed the room for the second time.

"Do you want a nicer venue? I could introduce you to that members only club..." she murmured, glancing at Therion from the corner of her eye. He shook his head lightly.

"Starting small. Moving up to higher minimums will be after these first rounds."

Because after so many weekly tournaments run, there weren't many people betting on Pools matches. The screens in this parlor didn't even show live fights, just the same bracket boards that could be found throughout Esaka and a few highlights from standout fighters or long time fan favorites. Those betting now were chronic gamblers, desperate losers, or Esaka newbies throwing peanuts into the pool for fun. Therion was part of the last group. He wasn't about to show up to a higher tier parlor just to embarrass himself.

"Besides, there's a lot of loose lips around here," he added.

He'd learned some interesting things so far, like which fighters were 'sure winners,' which were currently considered dark horses, and which were 'fool's bets.' For example, that buff blonde the Seekers had recently seen join their ranks? Fool's bet, a fallen star with a fan base but fallen all the same. There was also a returning champion making a surprise appearance in World Warrior which apparently killed the chances of every other fighter in it making it to Bison. And, not really important but talked about all the same, Mortal Kombat had a few highly appealing partnerships that were sure to draw in donations from yokai if they went far enough: two tiny terrors with big swords, two feline fighters with a penchant for splitting up and getting back together, and two siblings with a vicious streak in complimentary colors. Female fighters unsurprisingly drew in a lot of attention.

Therion let Primrose in a little on the gossip, and afterward she pointedly looked at his betting slips. He spread them out on the table so she could see. He'd been attempting a joke earlier when he said he was planning to bet against the Seekers, but in the end he actually did have several slips in favor of their competition. That wasn't to say he hadn't put money on his comrades either, and in a couple of matches he had bets on both. He hadn't lost much money, but he also hadn't gained much - not that he minded. It was a way to pass the time, learn some things, and ingratiate himself to Esaka's technical outlaws.

Of course he couldn't spend all day there. Well, he could, but after the day's pools matches were finished there was little reason to stick around. Now that he had his slips he could leave at any point in fact, and just return later to settle the bets. He knew that inquiring about his plans would be Primrose's next question, so he cut her off before she could ask.

"I figure after this, finding a good spot to lay low should be our next move. Maybe spread out this time," he said, not that he thought there would be another attack on par with the bombing now that the perpetrators had a bounty. An amused little smile crossed Primrose's face. Then it smoothed out, and she replied.

"Not a bad idea. I imagine that's not a high priority for many of the others today." She lightly tapped the fingers of her free hand on the table. "I know it's early still, but I think I'd like to look into finding a way for more than one of us to confront the kings when the time comes. Though with a few days to go, I suppose we can take our time."

All the signs so far pointed to just a one on one, but who knew - maybe it would be as simple as catching the rulers on a good day and requesting an entourage.

"...and there is the Consul to deal with too," Therion murmured. Though she hadn't expected him to bring it up, Primrose agreed. Not long ago Therion had said he was fine, and she had to believe him until he showed otherwise.

"Let's see if the others think a preemptive strike is in the cards," she said. "It would certainly make things easier later on if we got rid of her ahead of time."

And if she was honest, she sort of wanted to face down the woman herself even if the thought of vengeance over the events of a past life -one that wasn't even her own- sounded a bit silly. Therion seemed to pick up on some of her thoughts, an expression that was half exasperation and half fondness coming over him.

"The sooner the better," he said. Maybe then his antsy-ness would disappear.

They both knew it was easier said then done. They fell into soft chatter after that, filling each other in on what little the other didn't already know. There was still plenty of time left in today's Pools matches, let alone the day itself, but the two of them were content to sit around for now. After some time, a voice filtered through the linkshell network - Rika's voice, requesting a meeting to go after G-Corp's bounty.

Right, there was that too. The Orsterrans looked at each other.

"Could be a good distraction, get the mind off of some things," Primrose suggested innocently. Therion was on to her though, his one visible eye narrowing slightly.

"Does it look like I need a distraction?"

"Do you want me to be honest?"

Therion's tail thumped once against the chair he sat in, propping his head up on his elbow to mimic the dancer's earlier pose. No, he supposed he didn't want her to spell it out. He let out a puff of a sigh, and Primrose turned to check the clock on wall. She glanced back at the thief, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Come on, I'll accompany you part way there. I have another match to catch soon anyway."

ROUND 2, FIGHT

Grima’s taunts didn’t seem to phase Nakoruru at all as the girl dashed forward, the hawk at her side diving at the same time to speed ahead of her… Only to swerve to the side of Grima just before they collided, their attack simply a feint to distract Grima. Yet the vessel did not fall for it, merely letting the bird try to catch her attention and instead casually blocking Nakoruru’s blade with her own, her red eyes narrowed in sheer focus.

This time, the dance of blades was far more onesided. Though not as embarrassing as Grima’s last fight, seeing as Nakoruru was able to land a few glancing blows upon the Fell Dragon, it was clear that Grima had figured out Nakoruru’s own fighting style. Each dash, each swift swipe of the blade was met by Grima’s own, her steel swishing through the air as she fended off both steel and claw from multiple angles before counting with small blasts of dark magic; designed to be fast enough to catch Nakoruru on their retreats.

Eventually however, the fight reached its crescendo as the hawk flew forth at Grima’s seemingly open back to give Nakoruru an opening… Only for Grima to catch it by its throat, tendrils of dark magic immediately wrapping around its body to prevent it from flying away, “That is enough out of you” Grima states, her sword swinging to parry Nakoruru’s desperate strike at her side before she simply tosses the bird to the ground, having taken just enough lifeforce to knock it unconscious for a few moments. It was in that moment that Nakoruru leapt forth, bringing her kodachi down in a stabbing motion. Unfortunately for her, Grima simply stepped to the side, spinning her own body around to grab the back of Nakoruru’s head, a small orb of darkness forming in it and then erupting, smashing her face first into the arena floor.

KO

GRIMA WINS

A few moments pass as the announcement rings out, both Nakoruru and her hawk unconscious on the ground whilst Grima took a few moments to breathe, shaking off the hand she had used to cast the final spell, “Yet another failure. Children should know their place, but I suppose mortals can’t help but try to be more” with a dismissive flick of her sword, Grima sheathes it back at her hip, turning on her heel to walk away once more.

With the minigame completed, Mokou had largely chosen to walk off, finding a nice spot in the support beams of the lodge to sit down and rest. From high above, she watched the rest of the Seekers prepare for a night’s rest, and in the relative quiet of the night, Mokou finally had time to think to herself.

The flow of time was always strange to her. A thousand years of life made it so that certain events blended into one another… And if she was still subjected to that memory block, she was certain that this little trip would just be another footnote in her mind. Rebirth was a concept she was more than familiar with, but a rebirth into a world so unlike Gensokyo was, at the least, something that added more variety to her life. Even the Seekers were interesting, in their own ways. That Tenna was an oddity in every capacity, but Mokou felt an odd liking towards them and their dedication to making things interesting. A far cry from herself, who simply floated through life.

The others weren’t as interesting, but Mokou couldn’t say that she disliked them, like Sectonia or Sandalphon. Aside from two… Rammatra and Ganondorf, if she overheard their names right. She was old enough to be capable of picking up on less than savory individuals, and those two were distinctly rotten, from her point of view. Or, perhaps just Ganondorf. She’d have to chat with them to figure out what their deals were.

As Mokou let her head rest upon the sturdy wood behind her, her mind drifted back to the main goal of the Seekers right now. To find and kill this ‘Baldur’. She still barely knew what this man was like… But from everything she had heard, she was going to despise them when she finally met them. Living with immortality was one thing, but using it as an excuse to abuse those without it… It brought back unwelcome memories of a certain period of her life where Mokou had done just that, all in the pursuit of finding a way to end her curse.

Well, she’d get to bashing their head in for being a prick once she met him.

---

---

After his light training with Edward, Ramattra retreated back to the safety of the room he had claimed, choosing to scratch the chin of the odd dog that had followed the Seekers around since they arrived. Hopefully that would be enough to keep the creature content for a moment so that he may meditate on his day for a moment before returning to the woods for more resource hunting. Finally concluding his game with the other Seekers, Ramattra had asked in passing that Tenna collect the logs that the Omnic had been using for practice to fuel the fireplace, and keep all the organic members warm. There was no rebuttal from the CRT host, as he ordered two of his remaining Shadow Guys to stay and clean up the mess of confetti and rearranged furniture.

The logs were neatly sorted in a pile from bad cuts to better cuts, showing how Ramattra had improved throughout the evening after his discussion and sparring with Edward, the better cuts more even and easy to relocate inside, where Tenna tossed them into the fireplace to burn for the rest of the night. That would be a good task for him to delegate to his Shadow Guys, but for now, Tenna focused on going around the cabinets and closets of the building, collecting any extra bedding and pillows for the rest of White Team.

After reflecting on his day, Ramattra finally left his lonesome in the room he stationed himself in to go gather more necessary resources for the team’s survival. Sandaphlon had shared that the soup was losing quality and that restoring it with other nutrients would help in the travels to come. Venturing out into the woods, the Omnic kept an eye out for any threats and treats for the rest of the team. Fortunately, it seemed the squad had put enough distance between them and the Spire that Skulling threats were no longer a concern; however, on his exploration, Ramattra did come across a large spider and what he assumed was its younger counterpart. While the Omnic was certain that nobody wanted to eat spiderflesh in the Stew, maybe the creature’s DNA would be viable for the fusion machine that Edward had assembled.

The spiders seemed neutral to Ramattra’s presence, only getting aggressive if he got too close to the nests they wove in webs amongst the trees. He was certain they would prove useful later, however, and should gather up samples for later fusion use, which would unfortunately mean having to slay one of each to collect vital components they could use for fusion. Maybe some of its legs and venom glands would suffice. Regardless, Ramattra challenged some of the spiders with his blade, now more familiar with its weight in his hand, by cutting a giant spider and a spiderling down from where they dangled on their webs. They hissed and bared their venomous fangs at Ramattra, attempting to pierce the Omnic’s metallic leg, only to get a mouthful of hard metal.

The Omnic battered the smaller creature away first with the blunt side of the blade, before drawing it through the head of the spiderling. Quickly, Ramattra slashed the sword at the legs of the larger spider, beating them up to weaken the beast's stamina. It put up a good fight, using its heavy legs to push Ramattra backward, but was a lesser mob and fell with a couple more swings to its vital areas. He claimed whatever parts were viable for fusion or resources from both creatures- whether that had been fangs, hairs, or glands. “Well, if we ever need spider-like monstrosities, we have the samples now.”

Finishing his collection, the Omnic went deeper into the woods, searching high and low for any food. His haul was modest and largely comprised of winterberries, snow cherries, and other assortments of berries. Ramattra filled his inventory to max capacity with whatever little food he could scavenge up for his fleshy companions.

Returning to the lodge to retire for the night, it seems Tenna’s Shadow Guys had taken to managing the odd dog during their stay, petting its large body and using yarnballs as makeshift balls for the creature to play with.

Despite the overwhelming number of distractions, Nadia’s counter-clockwise journey around the Pools did eventually lead her to the Tekken section. Just as with the Mortal Kombat and World Warrior portions of the tier, there was no actual demarcation to tell her she was leaving one tournament’s zone and entering another, so she wasn’t aware she’d passed the border until a minute or two in. In fact, clearest indicator -and the one that finally clued the feral in- ended up being the bulletin boards set up at the rest areas, which now displayed stage names that started with ‘T’ instead of ‘W’. Once she realized, Nadia stopped at an elevator gazebo to look around, hoping she hadn’t already unwittingly passed Beowulf by.

As she watched, it quickly became apparent that a newbie like her couldn’t possibly tell the difference between a Tekken match and a World Warrior match at a glance. Maybe veterans of the city’s competitive circuit could pick out the subtle differences in the way each tournament’s duelists fought, but such discrete variations in stance and style were lost upon her. As with everything here in Esaka, it came with time and experience, she supposed. Unfortunately Nadia had the benefit of neither, at least as far as these tournaments were concerned. Sure, she could scrap and street fight with the best of them, but formal competition was totally foreign to her. Plus, even if there hadn’t been any provisions about fighting dirty, there was no way to know which of her abilities were subject to the Heavenly Principles’ inexplicable regulation until she tried to use something in the heat of the moment, and it didn’t work the way she expected. A second’s confusion or hesitation could be the difference between life and death in a tournament where losers could be killed. Theoretically the Life Gem wouldn’t let her die, but only now did it occur to Nadia that even the Life Gem’s incredible restorative power could be subject to the Principles’ adjustment. It was a scary thought.

Of course, the catgirl couldn’t waste much time on worrisome introspection when awesome spectacles were unfolding just a few dozen feet in front of her. Somewhere along the way here she’d lost Robo-fortune, but she figured she’d see her Kameo again before their next match started. At the moment, her attention lay on a newly-started match between a burly Chinese fighter in red and a large catlike beast on a round stone arena surrounded by rock walls on one side and the sinuous body of a carved dragon on the other. The martial artist, Ryuhi, came out the gate strong with a barrage of potent punches and kicks that suggested years of diligent training. At first it seemed like his overwhelming pressure left his beastly opponent stuck blocking and unable to fight back. Nadia found herself rooting for the underdog (or undercat, in this case) as Ryuhi got around Gray’s clumsy block to land blow after blow, each spinning backfist and high side kick ringing Gray’s ears almost as much as his beach ball-sized bell.

Just when Ryuhi decided to get fancy in order to end the round, though, his feline foe wound up and decked him with a hefty wallop from his paw, which he followed up with a stream of blazing fire breath. That alone seemed to deal an inordinate amount of damage, leaving Ryuhi not just astonished, but panicked. As Gray charged, Ryuhi sprang to his feet and threw out a spin kick in an attempt to stop him, only for the nervous blow to fall short and result in a brutal whiff punish as the cat-thing slapped him to the floor with his massive mitts. Ryuhi crumpled, dazed, meaning that with only a few heavy hits, Gray had taken the round.

Nadia’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa,” Nadia muttered, standing with her arms crossed as her tail twitched restlessly behind her. She couldn’t help but wonder how some fighters were allowed to do such extreme damage that they could achieve victory with just a couple hits. Admittedly, combo specialists like her could end most fights in two or three touches if she completed every combo, but that was hard work that took serious focus and execution. After all, foes could slip or flip out of her grasp and turn the tables after even the slightest lapse in timing. Gray did look like a slow, easy target, but still, the risk and reward did not seem remotely proportionate.

The second round didn’t go any better for Ryuhi than the first. Anxious to lock Gray down again and keep him from taking control of the match, the martial artist threw himself face-first into the beast’s fire breath. From there he scrambled to try and deal with Gray’s clumsy but punishing attacks, but even if he landed five solid techniques for every time Gray swatted him, Ryuhi came out worse for wear. Toward the end of the brawl he finally seemed to be getting a grasp of the feline’s range and recovery, managing to block and dodge a handful of attacks in a row. Just as he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, however, the kung fu fighter failed to fend off a grab and got thrown to the cold stone floor once more. GRAY WINS!

As Ryuhi groaned, one hand to his face as he tried to pick himself up, a toned, scantily-clad brunette on the sidelines not far from Nadia tried to rouse him with a cheer. “C’mon, Ryuhi! You can bring it back!” she called, pointing at his opponent. “You’re the better fighter! Just do it clean!”

Nadia blinked at her, confused. The man had lost two rounds, wasn’t it over? To her surprise, however, Ryuhi got to his feet and faced Gray one more time, freshly motivated and full of determination. “Oh, must be a best of three in Tekken,” the feral said aloud to nobody in particular. She then cleared her throat and shouted out her own support for Ryuhi, her initial support for Gray all but forgotten. “Yeah, kick his fluffy ass!” The creature in question gave her a sad look, his ears and whiskers drooping, but Nadia closed her heart to him.

ROUND THREE: FIGHT!

This time, Ryuhi let neither intimidation nor impatience get the better of him. He closed half the distance, then let Gray come to him. With his speed, he could reliably punish the feline’s attacks when he blocked them, and if Gray wound up for an even bigger bash, a quick jump kick or dashing punch could shut him down. The beast’s huge paws and fiery breath did a lot of chip damage, but once Ryuhi’s opportunistic attacks began to add up, he quickly built a sizable lead. He did take a couple stray hits that made Nadia’s breath catch in her throat, but after a hectic forty seconds of fighting the kung fu fighter clutched out his first win.

After that, the tables seemed to have turned. Round four saw Ryuhi perform even better, playing the matchup just about perfectly now that he’d seen every Gray could do, while the doughy creature began to run out of steam. Nadia’s smile gradually widened, nodding along to the rhythm of Ryuhi’s beatdown. In a first-to-two, she realized, Gray’s unusual damage would have earned him a cheap win, but with the extra round to adapt the more skilled fighter was asserting himself. As round four finished in his favor, the Chinese girl in white (probably Ryuhi’s girlfriend, if Nadia had to guess) was cheering as she bounced up and down, and most other spectators were in his corner as well.

“Fraud detected!” a round man in red with a neck pillow called to Gray, while a spiky-haired janitor used the robot arm on his trash hand to give Ryuhi a thumbs-up.

Nadia grinned. “No love lost ‘fur’ our feline friend, huh?”

Minmin looked her way, still beaming. “Nope! Robberies are fun once in a while, but in the end newbie-stompers like Gray can’t measure up to real fighters like Ryuhi!”

“Oof,” the feral winced. “Careful that critter doesn’t hear you. He’d probably take it purr-sonally!”

The final round began with a surprise, however. Using his stored-up energy, Gray transformed, relinquishing his enormous beastly body for the appearance of a valiant warrior wearing a red scarf. “Behold, my true form!” he announced, striking a pose. “Let’s do this, man to man!” With a grin, Ryuhi obliged. In his human form, Gray’s fighting style was completely different, favoring energy blasts from his hands instead of huge, clumsy strikes. His new abilities gave him an early lead as Ryuhi had to switch from defensive, patient play to aggressive rushdown. For a few moments it seemed like Gray would close out the final round, but once again his opponent managed to adapt and overcome, narrowly seizing victory in a tense and exciting finish.

Nadia clapped along with the others, then got a move on after watching Minmin jump into Ryuhi’s arms. Their affection reminded her how much she missed Ace, off on his ice-cold adventure through the Frozen Highlands. His support would mean the world to her as she fought through her bracket, but at the same time, what would he think of the Banishing Flats incident? She couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of a horrified look on his face. Would he still be interested in her if he learned of the devastation caused by her foolishness? No, stupid question; how could he, or anyone, be? Hopefully he’d never find out. To that end, redeeming herself by winning Mortal Kombat was more important than ever.

The cat burglar was so lost in thought as she wandered that she didn’t see the stocky man in front of her until she practically bumped into him. “Yo, Fortune!” The wrestler waved a hairy, muscular arm as he flashed his trademark grin. “What’re you doin’ here?”

Nadia blinked, snapped herself out of it, then grinned. “Lookin’ for you, actually! I finished my first match and my second ain’t for a couple hours, so I figured I’d go around and see what everyone’s up to’. Already saw Annie and Filia, so you’re last on my list.” She snapped her fingers into the double finger guns. “But not least, of course! ‘Howl’ you doin’?”

“Not bad!” Beowulf replied, leaning against the elevated walkway’s wooden railing to let another couple fighters pass. “Fought this kid named ‘Terrific Forelock’ in round one. Not too shabby, but he just about shouted himself hoarse callin’ out his attacks. ‘Psycho Blade, Psycho Blade, Psycho Blade’...sheesh!” The man chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, I do it ‘cause I gotta hype up the crowd, but even I ain’t that bad, right?” He crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. “Course not. Uh…how’d the others do?”

The feral stretched out her arms as she replied. “Easy wins for Annie so far. Filia won one, lost one. She fought hard, but in the end she was Mako-toast.”

Beowulf raised one eyebrow at her, momentarily confused. “Uh, well, I’m sure she’ll pull it together. ‘Specially with that parasite of hers. Kids just need a li’l motivation, right?” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the arena behind him, a donut-shaped wooden platform decorated with giant fishbones. “If you wanna stick around, my next match’s startin’ any second now! I’m up against this lady named Shina. I’m hungry for a good fight, so wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” Nadia patted him on the shoulder. “And watch your step, or it won’t just be your appetite that’s wetted!”

The wrestler double-jumped over to the stage just as his opponent entered from the opposite side. With tan skin, a good build, spiky blonde hair, and a stylish, somewhat militaristic outfit, Shina seemed like someone who could fight hard and look good doing it. It was hard for Nadia to not like her, but she owed it to her fellow NMO fighter to root for Beowulf. “Check it out!” the wrestler announced, showboating to a (mostly) imaginary audience as he stepped forward. “The name’s Beowulf! I am two hundred and eighty-seven pounds of folded steel…and sex appeal!” He flexed, wiggling his eyebrows. Nadia rolled her eyes.

Shina snorted with laughter, her smile incredulous, then assumed a confident, scrappy stance, her open front hand low and her closed back hand high. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Once the Heavenly Principles started the match, the two circled the stage’s central hole to clash explosively. Shina barreled forward with a heavy clothesline as Beowulf surrounded himself in a fiery aura to launch himself forward. “Ao-ao-awoo!” The two slammed together, traded blows, then launched into an all-out slugfest. Beowulf managed to catch his foe off guard by kicking his chair forward, which slammed into Shina’s shins and knocked her down, allowing Beowulf to approach. True to his grappling roots, he went for a grab first thing and successfully snatched her. Once he lifted her into the air, he performed a Berserker Headbutt, two Naegling Knee Lifts, and ended his grab stance with a scoop slam.

Shina would not be toyed around with so easily, though. She sprang up, stopped his offense with a couple jabs, then switched things up with a sneaky fast grab. Once she had the wrestler in her grasp, she performed a giant swing to hurl him into the air, then backflipped forward and grabbed his head between her knees to slam him into the ground. “Not bad!” Beowulf opted to backdash away from her slightly late meaty hit on wakeup (which put him a little too close to the stage’s donut hole) then launched forward with Wulf Blitzer again. “Ao!” She blocked the first charge, then attempted a counterattack, only for Beowulf to blast backward the same way. “Ao!” Shina continued forward with a strong kick, but the Wulf Blitzer still wasn’t over as Beowulf cannoned diagonally up and toward her. “AWOO!” Shina’s whiff left her too overextended to deal with her opponent’s cross-up, so once his Naegling Knee Drop landed he followed up with a combo. After a handful of hits, he whipped out a gigantic arm and bulled forward in a huge punch. “One-twenty inch PYTHON!”

Shina went flying over the edge, but just in the knick of time she grabbed onto a big fishbone and used it to swing around. Beowulf, who’d paused to build up a little Hype by listening for the splash, instead witnessed Shina transform into a towering leopard and dropkick him straight into the arena’s donut hole. “Whuh-!” He hit the water with a big splash of his own, and the Heavenly Principles declared it a ring-out.

Nadia giggled, impressed by Shina’s new form. “Lots of people turnin’ into cats and vice versa today, huh?” Beowulf was back up and on his feet in no time, though, and the battle progressed at a blistering pace. Though barely able to keep up with the action at times, Nadia watched with a big smile on her face. Even if Beowulf was a big doofus, he was a born entertainer. He played to the crowd with ridiculous moves like the Geatish Trepak Dance, then used the Hype to fuel further antics. With plenty of tricks like the chair he called ‘the Hurting’, Wulf Blitzer, a fake-out Wulf Blitzer that became a command grab instead, he enjoyed an advantage most of the time, but when Shina assumed her beast form she seized the strength and reach advantage for herself to shut down Beowulf’s nonsense.

Round two ended in the wrestler’s favor after he got pushed to the very edge of the stage, then landed a grab and used Da Grendel Killa to dunk his foe behind him. Round three was lightning-fast as Shina transformed, seized Beowulf in another giant swing, then juggled him with a killer chain of upward and downward claw slashes that carried him all the way to the edge for yet another ring-out. That meant that Beowulf needed to win round four or be eliminated, and he did not disappoint. The man actually managed to flip the script on Shina’s ferocious beast form with an armored uppercut from his severed arm and keep her locked in a combo until her transformation expired, allowing him to clinch the win.

That victory paved the way for a final round as both fighters faced one another from across the arena, soaking wet but still full of energy thanks to all those premature ring-outs. “It’s been fun,” Shina remarked, baring her fangs. “But it’s time to wrap this up.”

“This stage ain’t big enough for the two of us!” Beowulf agreed.

In her beast form, Shina pounced over the gap, then ravaged her opponent’s guard with a series of claw slashes. Beowulf caught her low with a surprisingly fast stomp but couldn’t convert, then just barely missed a grab, which earned him a quick but punishing combo as Beowulf got launched, hurled downward and left flat on his back next to the edge. Shina finished with a ruthless falling X-slash, only for him to roll between the leopard’s legs and throw out a mule kick that nearly pushed her off the edge he almost went over. Snarling, she whirled around with a scything slash, but Beowulf took advantage of her blind haymaker to armor through it with his level-one Blockbuster. “Gigantic…ARM!”

The severed arm’s giant fist hurled Shina backward over the water. She grabbed hold of a fishbone to swing around again, but this time Beowulf was ready. As his foe whirled around and flew back toward him, he leaped straight for her to snatch her out of the air, then lean forward for a body press. “Canis...Major!”

SPLOOSH

Both fighters disappeared into the water. They bobbed to the surface a second later, Shina back in her human form. Nadia blinked at them quizzically, not sure who won until golden letters welled up from the stage to decide the victor. BEOWULF WINS!

Shina laughed in disbelief. “What!? Wasn’t that a double knockout?”

“It’s ‘cause you went out first!” Beowulf crowed. “Booyeah! The line for autographs starts here!”

“What, in the water?” Shina questioned him.

The two continued to bicker lightheartedly as they swam for the nearest ladder and hauled themselves up, then made for the towel station at the nearest rest area. Nadia just followed along as they went at it, highly amused at how things turned out. Even if that match ended in a ring-out every single time, it had been one of the most entertaining fights she’d seen yet. Of course, the day was still young, with an entire afternoon of pools matches ahead of her–including her own second match at one-thirty. Before then, though, the feral had a mind to get a bite to eat. Somehow, it had already been a few hours since the tournaments officially began, so she was already getting hungry. Guess time really does fly when you’re having fun. After telling Beowulf her plans, she invited both him and Shina to join her, and both accepted. With a jocular attitude, the three headed off to round up Annie and Filia, provided that they had a little free time as well, then make for the Middle Tier where they could find somewhere to eat.

---

Once the uncommonly burly tiger called Rhajang was back on its feet, Band took a deep breath -as best he could with a broken respirator- and steeled his brass body as he awaited those golden letters. This wouldn’t be a walk in the park, but it was doable. Second verse, same as the first, baby,, he thought as his pneumatic organs sputtered and wheezed.

Without further ado, the Heavenly Principles decreed: ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

The tiger let out a nerve-wracking, primal roar as it leaped high into the air, high enough that even Band had to look up. As soon as his hat tipped back, the sun flooded into his eyes, and Rhajang became a dark, silhouetted blur against the bright sky. Damn. In that split second, he worried that he couldn’t time Beat Extend in order to properly anti-air like this. He also couldn’t stop himself from wondering if this was just an unfortunate coincidence, or the product of his opponent’s scheme, and the sign of Rhajang being much more intelligent than Band previously believed. Such a thought was useless right now, of course, but in that moment of hesitation he gave up on trying to snatch Rhajang with Beat Extend. He simply blocked high instead, and the next moment the tiger’s full weight drove its claws down across his guard in a curtain-shredding slash.

From there Rhajang unleashed its bestial assault much as it did during round one. It batted at him with repeated swipes from its left and right forepaws, though this time it moved around much more, forcing Band to adjust his direction a few times to avoid getting opened up. Crouching to block low strikes and standing to guard against aerial attacks was basic stuff, but just as before Rhajang was just fast enough to keep things interesting. Of course, the detective had no intention of just sitting there while the tiger slowly chipped him down. He bided his time for a crucial moment, then as Rhajang sprang up to try a quick overhead, finally let a light Beat Extend fly. He soaked a painful hit as the tambourine halves clamped down on the airborne beast, rigorously rattled the jangles, and let the dazed animal fall in order to kick off another combo.

This time, Band belted the beast with a Bass Drop, the sound erupting from his side caps (and from the gramophone beneath his hat) strong enough to hold Rhajang aloft. “Speak low!” From there, he leaned back and deployed a kick stand to support himself for a double kick. “Two boots!” He jumped up, popped open his center side valve for a baritone blast, then deployed his clarinet like a wasp stinger for a spike-and-twist that set up a blast blast from his highest side valve. Band fell fast and landed before Rhajang, allowing him to juggle the tiger with a little pedal just before it hit the ground. “Hot socks!” After that the first hit of his knee trombone slide popped Rhajang back up, so Band could honk it twice with his bike horn, land a couple more hits, and finally send the tiger packing with the pile driver-like slams of a heavy Take the A Train. Bang bang…BANG!

Though it hit the raft hard enough to crack the wooden boards, Rhajang wouldn’t take that combo lying down. It could tell that Band was winded, and sooner or later, the detective would surely make a fatal mistake. Rhajang took off running, circling around its opponent. Its claws dug into the raft’s planks beneath its feet, giving it excellent grip, while Band had a harder time adjusting. Band attempted to knock it down with Giant Slam, but the huge drum pedal was unluckily timed, slamming the raft while the tiger was mostly off the ground.

Finally Rhajang charged, running in a zigzag pattern. Band crouched down to block, only for Rhajang to dart right past him, so close that its striped fur brushed his trench coat. It then turned on a dime and with the help of one clawed paw and used the other to slash into the detective’s left leg. He grunted in pain as he extended a fan of pipe organs low, but Rhajang leaped up, slashing twice in midair. The first knocked off his hat, and the second grazed his scalp, drawing blood. Band jerked away as Rhajang came down, but before the tiger could sink its teeth in, he caught it between the halves of his giant brass bell in a well-timed grab.

He rang the bell, rattling the beast within, then released it so it’d slump straight into a saxophone uppercut. As Rhajang flew upward, yowling, Band whipped out his bagpipes and began to play. Strident notes rang out across the pools as blood trickled down his face, forcing him to close one eye. By the time Rhajang slammed into the ground, he was ready. He jumped forward and threw out his Five Thousand Pound Slam, but when Rhajang retreated from the dropkick, he landed on his back and teched forward to bounce right up to the big cat.

Band crouched down, but instead of blocking, he stuck one leg out and opened it up to poke the tiger with a tiny oboe. By then Rhajang was already attacking, but its furious slash lost to the Sharp Note thanks to the armor from Bagpipe Blues, and from there it was smooth sailing. Band stupefied the beast with Bass Drop, launched it with another saxophone uppercut, jumped, let out baritone and bass blasts, and sent Rhajang sailing with another massive dropkick. “Lay back!” Teching forward again got him close enough to hit his foe off the ground with his double trombone slide. “Black…and blue!” From there he kept the combo rolling with the Sound Stun from Beat Extend, jumped to perform his usual aerial string of tambourine grind into clarinet spike, and landed with enough time to ring Rhajang with his musical triangle.

From there, it was a simple matter of linking into another heavy Take the A Train that he canceled into Super-Sonic Jazz. “Horn crush!” He boosted forward as a giant french horn, carrying the tiger to the edge of the stage, then stopped short to deliver a brass knuckle beatdown courtesy of Bagpipe Blues. “TUBATUBATUBATUBATUBATUBATUBA…TUBA!” His final punch hurtled the tiger across the water, and it was senseless before it hit the surface.

BIG BAND WINS

“...Expect the same welcome next time.” Letting out a labored breath, Band extended a tiny mechanical arm toward his head, a little handkerchief held between its padded pincers. He wiped the blood from his eyes and off his scalp, then bent to retrieve his hat. It was in bad shape, much like his trench coat and respirator. Ultimately he hadn’t been in that much danger against such a one-dimensional opponent, but he sure felt like he’d been put through the wringer. “Hoo boy. Could use a nice long break after that one.”

Fortunately, a quick consultation of one of the tier’s bulletin boards informed him that he wouldn’t have his third Winners-side match until two, according to the Heavenly Principles’ calculations. After breathing a sigh of relief, Band set off in search of a lift to Esaka’s Middle Tier in the hopes that someone up there could patch him up.

---

When Yayama left Roman Cancel behind in the hopes of burying her existential turmoil beneath the assurance that she could indeed make a positive difference in the world, she found a Low Tier abuzz with activity. Plenty of people and yokai were out and about, many immersed in the serpentine lifestreams that snaked through the air above the cobbled streets and low-rent condos like the aurora borealis over Coerthas. Everywhere she looked, she found excitement and intrigue as the citizens tuned in to the pools, and not just for the sake of cheap bets.

In some ways, qualifying rounds of Esaka’s tournaments were of greater interest to the average Low Tier denizen than Top 8. After all, even if few ever managed to reach the end of their brackets, hopeful Low Tier fighters formed the majority of every tournament’s registrants. It wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine that there would be no real tournaments without them; just repetitive exhibitions for the established elite. As such, pools were where the people down here got to watch their friends try their luck and shape things up. And even though most such competitors got eliminated quickly, often without winning a single fight, every so often an unexpected hero would rise from obscurity–a Low Tier ‘god’ who managed to seize victory from Middle or even High Tier fighters and rally enthusiastic spectators behind them. Even if he or she didn’t win, getting far enough in bracket could turn a no-name fighter into a minor celebrity overnight, so there was no shortage of hype matches.

Before Yayama could really immerse herself in the community, though, a man wandering the area happened to spot her. A relieved smile spread across his face as he began to walk toward her, his measured stride neither too fast nor too aggressive, opening a large fan to flutter her way in the hopes of getting the dark knight’s attention. With short black hair and shiny black eyes. He wore a set of voluminous blue-black hakama that bore a mountainous butterfly pattern, along with a blue jacket that featured huge, flowing sleeves. Shirtless men were relatively common in Esaka, but that accentuating jacket along with his uncommonly muscular chest made this fellow seem much more shirtless than most. His garb, along with the short black hair and shiny black eyes (Galeem’s sunset-red glow notwithstanding) beneath the tiny pair of round spectacles perched on his nose, made him reminiscent of the men of Doma. His air of confident and sophistication set him apart from the Low Tier fighters around him; he did not look like he belonged here at all. After flagging her down, the gentleman stopped a few feet away from Yayama and offered her a polite bow.

“Good morning,” he told her. “I’m very glad to have caught you, noble lady. My name is Anji Mito, and today I have the pleasure of extending you greetings on behalf of the United Nations. Today, it seems, I represent more than just my home country of Japan.” He idly opened a fan in order to fan himself. If he’d been in the area looking for her, he’d probably been running around for some time. “Please, allow me to explain. Last night, one of our agents witnessed your heroic actions during the attack on Banishing Flats, and every time he returned to the scene this morning, he found you digging through the rubble, hoping to save yet more lives.”

Anji gave her a respectful nod. “It’s clear to us that you are a virtuous soul. If you want to protect the people of Esaka, and to mete out justice to those responsible, your organization and mine are of like mind.” He stowed his fans as he folded his sleeves together. “The United Nations is a coalition of fighters from the many countries of planet Earth. The closest thing that Esaka has to a ‘resistance’, in that our ultimate goal is to depose the Four Kings as an institution and bring a new dawn to Esaka. Yet, now that the Four Kings have given their blessing, it is also an opportunity to destroy the menace that is G-Corporation. We are in a position to do that, and given the heroism demonstrated by your cohort, we believe that mutual cooperation will do the greatest good.”

He half-turned away and extended a closed fan toward the nearest elevator to the Pools. “So on behalf of the United Nations, I would like to invite you and yours to meet our leader over lunch, as well as a few more of our members. Many of us are involved in the tournaments, though, so it won’t be a terribly formal occasion. No dark boardrooms, stuffy penthouses, or secret headquarters here.” He bowed to Yayama again. “Of course, you are free to decline, but I believe that our intelligence would be of great use to you.” The gentleman fixed her with a charming smile. “What do you say?”

---

Up in the pools, Sakura’s martial prowess earned her another victory in her third Winners-side match. This time her opponent Golrio had put up more than the semblance of a challenge, but after a stolen first round the peppy street fighter had turned the tables on her explosive opponent and taken another step on the long road toward Bison. With three matches under her belt, she could expect no more than two that afternoon, and a longer wait before she needed to fight again.

By now, with over half of the World Warrior’s competitors already eliminated from the tournament, more spectators could be found on the sidelines of pretty much every match. Whether non-participants newly arrived from other tiers, or fighters who’d already lost two matches but wanted to see more, these onlookers attended the matches of tournament favorites and lucky Low Tiers alike. Sakura was neither, but it seemed that she’d drawn the interest of at least one fan already. Just after she took the stage in order to square off against Golrio, a woman who’d discreetly followed her after Sakura’s victory over Blue Suede Goo settled in to watch. This beautiful and elegant lady, with a huge dark violet braid and an intricate but light lavender kimono, paid rapt attention to Sakura as she fought and eventually claimed the win. She politely clapped rather than cheering uproariously, and didn’t seem eager to make the street fighter’s acquaintance, but when Sakura went to move on, so did she.



Living alone for a long time had made Heismay a light sleeper, since he couldn’t rely on anything but his own senses and preparedness should something go bump in the night. Even if things were different now, and there were plenty of allies around that could alert him to any threats, old habits were hard to break. Nevertheless, even though camping out in an abandoned house in the middle of a dark forest was practically asking for a nighttime ambush, the whole night somehow passed by without any incidents. When Heismay awoke, a bit on the early side but not painfully so, he actually felt pretty well rested. Not to mention surprised that he’d managed to get a good night’s sleep in peace. Sandalphon would probably call it a miracle.

Slowly, Heismay let himself down from the bar he hung from throughout the night, then straightened up with his hands on his lower back. He performed a couple twists and stretches, his stiff bones cracking and popping. “Oof…” The eugief gently pushed open the closet door, then stepped out into the master bedroom, rubbing his eyes. It wasn’t much brighter out here than it had been in his padded refuge; after all, the sun never rose on the Frozen Highlands nowadays. With no visible day-night cycle in this region thanks to the thick, perennial cloud cover, he could easily see his circadian rhythms getting thrown out of whack if he spent much longer here. There was no telling how much longer it would be before the Seekers finished their mission in this region, but if his estimations of pace and distance weren’t too far off, the expedition could very well reach Moon Mountain today.

Within a few minutes Heismay was all packed up and ready for travel, clad in the child-size parka bought for him in Snowdin. By now the Naytiba poison splashed on it during the big battle in the Raphael Space center was just a stain, not even malodorous anymore, which was a relief. He went down the stairs from the lodge’s second story into the spacious living room where a number of more communal Seekers had spent the night, warm in the radiance of the well-stocked fireplace. Some of them had been up late doing some kind of activity with Tenna, but he didn’t know who and wasn’t curious enough to ask. Some of his compatriots were fellow early risers, already up and preparing their equipment for the day’s journey, while a few heroes were still in the process of waking up.

Unexpectedly, Sandalphon had yet to make an appearance, which was odd given that she tended to be the first person present at any kind of gathering, her plans and words assembled well in advance. As more teammates trickled in, Heismay took a headcount himself. Although neither ended up enjoying a stiff drink together last night, both monster hunters looked rested and ready for what would probably be a long day of travel and combat. Meanwhile Blazermate, Tenna, and Ramattra all looked bored and antsy, eager to get going. Heismay supposed that if one didn’t need to sleep, six to eight hours of downtime per day would probably get pretty dull, especially for an entertainer like Tenna. That little white dog from last night did seem attached to him, though, so maybe he’d had his hands full after all. Roxas’ dog Scamp, loyal and low-maintenance, probably made for much better nighttime company

With how tidy and well-furnished this lodge seemed to be, Sectonia had hopefully managed to get some beauty sleep, even if her accommodations still fell well below her personal standards. That left Mokou and Ganondorf, who both appeared to be in good shape. Even if he was a king, Heismay expected that a warlord like Ganondorf had probably spent many a night in a spartan commander’s tent so that he could ride into battle or lay siege the next day. And it didn’t seem like Mokou could be fazed by much of anything, either.

The sound of creaking floorboards turned Heismay’s attention to the stairs, where Sandalphon was descending at last. She was fully clothed in her formal attire and parka, seemingly ready for the road ahead, but her movements were a little slower and stiffer than the eugief had come to expect, as if bothered by minor rheumatoid arthritis worsened by the cold conditions. Maybe she’d been too shy to share the Seekers’ fire downstairs, like him? He’d briefly considered commenting about the archangel’s tardiness when she finally arrived, but out of sympathy he decided not to risk it. “Good morning.” He acknowledged her with a curt nod of his head. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough.” Sandalphon’s face was almost imperceptibly tighter than usual, and her eyes narrower, even if the shape of her pupils betrayed nothing. “I see everyone is more or less ready for travel. Despite the darkness outside, it is currently eight minutes to seven o’clock AM. Let us depart on the hour.”

A few minutes later, Sandalphon stepped out through the lodge’s back door into the cold, dark morning, and shivered despite her warm parka. Plenty of fresh snow had fallen during the night, forming drifts against the house, bushes, and trees. It had erased the trail left stagecoach’s heavy wheels, but also blanketed the vehicle’s roof with snow, which Heismay and Roxas were in the process of brushing off, careful not to touch the lightning rod. All in all, the stagecoach seemed to be in good condition. Even the ratshaker rat was still there in its hanging cage, forgotten by everyone but still alive and kicking, much to the team’s collective chagrin.

There was also a hellpod in the wreckage of a tree a quarter-mile away, loaded up with two dozen pal spheres manufactured aboard the Avenger at Edward’s request during the night. Compared to more sophisticated pal spheres, these basic ones lacked capture power, but what they lacked in quality they (sort of) made up for in quantity. Attached to the storage container was a handwritten note informing Edward that better spheres could probably be made if metal ingots and cement were procured and delivered alongside more paldium.

As Edward hitched the Shieldrix, Sandalphon climbed into the stagecoach’s rear door, then crossed the interior to inspect the vegetubes at the front. Thanks to the advanced cultivation apparati and a steady supply of power from the lightning rod, the seeds the Seekers planted before leaving Krat Zoo had already sprouted. They were growing unnaturally fast, but it would still be a while longer before the mistletoe or carrots were ready for use. That did beg the question…if mistletoe was Baldur’s weakness, how exactly could that be exploited? By stabbing him with the sprigs? It sounded a little barbaric, but try as she might, Sandalphon could not envision a better method of application, only delivery.

The Seekers (or rather, the majority of them) had a more pressing issue right now. Since the stewpot had filled itself during the expedition’s visits to both Krat Zoo and Spire 04, it stood to reason that it would have plenty of time to fill itself during the night, but that proved to be a misunderstanding of how the arcane object functioned. When she checked the pot, Sandalphon found no stew at all. That meant that the Seekers who required sustenance would need to rely on the travel rations obtained in Snowdin and berries gathered by Ramattra. Even if Ace had managed to procure a horde of provisions, though, they probably wouldn’t last given the additions to the party, let alone his and Ganondorf’s prodigious appetites. Plus, these rations -which took the form of trail mix, granola bars, life raft rations, and spicy pickled jerky- couldn’t be all that filling, either.

Sandalphon raised a hand to her ear and summoned her communication sigil. “As we venture onwards today, let’s be sure to keep an eye out for food sources. It may be necessary to hunt for supplies.” She felt the stagecoach shake as Edward climbed onto the front, ready to drive the Shieldrix, then glanced at the other Seekers who’d entered the stagecoach. “Is everybody ready? If so, let us begin. Today’s mission: reach Moon Mountain, and demonstrate that we are worthy of Baldur’s attention.”

Before long, the stagecoach was moving again, leaving the mysterious lodge abandoned in the deathly quiet pine forest once more. In fact, it was even more abandoned now than it had seemed last night, for the little white dog had seen fit to join the Seekers on their voyage. She seemed more happy and calm overall, yipping for attention less frequently now that she trusted some of the heroes to pet and look out for her. While Sandalphon knew that her adoption meant yet another mouth to feed, she didn’t have the heart to throw the little thing out. It would be up to whoever liked her the most to give her a name. Now that Sandalphon thought of it, the stagecoach still didn’t have a name, either. Was that something people typically did? She knew that captains usually named their ships, as with the Avenger, but it wasn’t like DespoRHado’s higher-ups named the PMC’s various vehicles. Oh, well.

The expeditioners continued through the woods. It was only a little less dark and quiet than it had been the night before. Here and there Heismay, perched atop the stagecoach as always, could see hints of life. Through the trees he occasionally spotted snowy owls, shaggy ovis, and even giant woolly spiders, though all shied away from the stagecoach’s approach. Everyone kept alert for any sign of danger, but as the minutes dragged on the team’s lucky streak continued. No monsters leaped out to try and tear out their throats, and as menacing as they were, the shadows kept their distance.



Eventually, the quiet old woods thinned somewhat, and the Midnight Walk led the Seekers to an old village. Long since gutted by fire, the ruined settlement had buildings warped like soggy cardboard that leaned at perilous angles, and even the surrounding conifers seemed to bow toward the immense, metal furnace that stood, cold and dead, at the town’s center. Nowadays, the primary inhabitants of the town seemed to be rabbits with strange antennae and vacant, haunted eyes. There were a couple squatters scattered around though, and they also happened to be rabbits, albeit much bigger. Whether out and about or cozy in their borrowed homes, the half-dozen bunnymen said not a word, but stared at the Seekers with unblinking red eyes. Only one being in the ruined village seemed capable of speech: the Soulfisher with his distinctive peaked hat, asleep beneath the shelter of a paperback lean-to by an unlit fire. How he managed to reach this place before the Seekers was a mystery.

On the other side of desolate Coalhaven, the Midnight Walk continued along the Polar Pass, an icy riverland that at some point must have served as a race track. Once the stagecoach got headed that way, the boost pads and tricky jumps would ensure that it couldn’t go back. At Sandalphon’s suggestion, Edward slowed the stagecoach down as it navigated through the burnt-out village of broken matchsticks so the Seekers could take stock of the area.

Yayama eyed the man up and down - subtly, like a lady, of course - as he flagged her down and approached. She might not have been in the market at the moment, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy a little window shopping, and blending together strength and sophistication was something she appreciated. The Far Eastern style was especially fetching, though it did prompt the errant thought that he'd be somewhat more appealing with a pair of horns. Yayama's own thoughts surprised her, but after a moment of mulling it over, she figured that the capacity to notice such a distraction was probably a good thing, given everything.

She listened intently to his introductory spiel, feeling equal parts cautious and curious. The dark knight hadn't gotten a strong feel of who to trust and who to keep at arm's length here, so there was always the off chance she was being had, and this man was either another hunter of the Seekers or a G-corp agent looking to cut down would-be vigilantes before they became an issue. Despite this possibility, and perhaps slightly influenced by the fact that she thought he was hot, she elected to hear him out.

"Well, it's difficult to turn down the offer of lunch from a charming gentleman such as yourself." He also had noticed that they were a group, so it was best to find out more of what he knew, whether he was genuine or not. "And it sounds like we have a few goals in common. Assassination attempts are something one eventually learns to take in stride as a successful adventurer, but I can't abide any group that would so recklessly endanger bystanders for it. I also came to Esaka after hearing of some of the less-agreeable practices here, so I believe we have much to gain from cooperating." She nodded to punctuate her statement.

"I'll contact a few of my friends and see if they're interested." One formality lost occurred to her. "And while I assume you probably know my name if your group has been searching for me, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Yayama Yama, the Warrior of Darkness, and former Captain of the Immortal Flames. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mito." She put her hands to her sides and gave him an Eastern-style bow, though it looked a bit awkward between her short frame and bulky armor. "Where exactly would this meeting place be?"

Yayama's courtesy elicited a delighted smile from her new acquaintance. If he had noticed her gaze wandering as he spoke earlier, Anji did not seem fazed. "I'm glad you see the value in working together, and I'd be grateful for speaking to your friends on our behalf. It's a big city, after all, and I'm no Raven."

When asked where Yayama and any of her interested comrades could expect to find the United Nations group's representatives, Anji gently raised a closed fan to adjust his glasses with its edge. "Ah, of course. Mr. Chevalier recommended that you and he meet at Wine-Cup Hold, a winery on the western edge of the Middle Tier, which should have just opened for the day. It resembles a castle, and the outside seating is quite pleasant. I'll hope to see you there." He gave the dark knight a polite nod of his head before turning to go. She returned the nod, and added a wave of farewell before watching him leave.

After a few moments, she ducked down into the mouth of a nearby alleyway. Holding a hand up to one ear, she sent out a ping on the team's linkshell. "Hey, Yayama here. I've been approached by a man saying he represents the United Nations. They want to include us in some movement against G-corp, and might be sympathetic to our overall goals here. Their rep seems trustworthy enough; anyone open for lunch today?"

@Lugubrious

Harry Dubois

𝒦𝒾𝓂 𝒦𝒾𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓇𝒶𝑔𝒾

Word Count: 407
Level: Lv: 6 EXP: (3/60)
Lv: 4 EXP: (5/40)
Location: Esaka’s Middle Tier - Pool Arena Round 2

The second round began, and both men returned to their starting positions. Dr. B quickly became more aggressive. Spinning around so he was pretty close to Harry. A bit of the electricity from before seemed to surround his leg as he kicked Harry in the center of his stomach. Harry reeled back and almost vomited, but thankfully, he didn’t. Harry could feel the breath being taken out of him. And Dr. B followed up his attack with a flying head butt, which made Harry fall onto the ground.

This combination of moves surprised Harry, who thought he would need to be quick around the good doctor. Harry slowly and clumsily got onto his feet. Dr.B, meanwhile, was winding up for a powerful punch, but Harry moved out of the way and kicked Dr.B in the face. Dr. B was now crawling backwards towards Harry before getting into an indian sitting position. Harry tried again to boot the doctor in the face, but he quickly disappeared and reappeared behind Harry. Dr. B stood up, trying to uppercut Harry. Harry moved out of the way but could feel Dr.B’s fist grazing against his cheek. Grabbing onto Dr.B’s body, Harry performed a German suplex. There was a hard thud as Dr.B’s head hit the ground quite hard.

Dr. B was lying on the floor for a few moments. And Harry assumed that he had won the second round, but the doctor surprisingly had more endurance than he thought. The doctor quickly got onto his feet. Performing an arm takedown on Harry, who flipped backwards onto the ground. Harry’s head felt like a drink shaker, feeling instantly nauseous and finding it hard to get back onto his feet. Harry was stumbling hard both from the head trauma and being piss drunk.

Harry took a moment to steady himself. But he was leaning quite heavily to the left. Dr. B tried a leaping side kick, but Harry grabbed his leg in mid-air. Harry grabbed his other leg and started spinning quickly in a circle. Eventually, the scientist was hurled towards the opposite wall. His frail body tumbled out of the arena and won Harry the second round.

Harry felt bad about winning the match. Primarily because of how badly he had beaten the scientist. However, his inner thoughts told him he shouldn’t worry as much as he was tougher than he looked. And besides, he was getting closer to winning the tournament.

"Woe to those who stand against me, for I am his herald and the sign of things to come. I. Am. Omen!"

So it was gonna be like that, huh? Fighting against a spooky looking demon with a flair for dramatics. That suited Pit just fine - it was right up his alley, in fact! He could tell that Ashrah was tense, so he flashed her a reassuring smile as she and Omen's partner took their places on the arena's edge. He looked back at Omen, totally un-intimidated by the demon's opening taunt. Pit's smile morphed into a confident grin as he summoned his divine bow.

"I can tell you one thing coming up right now - your loss! 'Cause I am Pit, servant of the Goddess of Light! And you. Are. History!"

There wasn't much more preamble before the match's start. Omen growled, Pit fluffed out his wings, and the Heavenly Principles swirled around the grotto. Their golden sparkle lit up the area briefly, just long enough to form the fighters' signal in the air above them.

ROUND ONE: FIGHT!

Omen shot forward, unsurprisingly an aggressive fighter. He stopped short when the first of Pit's light arrows struck his face, backpedaled when the next stung his abdomen, and stopped the next with a well timed block. He got used to them quickly, blocking high and low when the bolts of light began to arc and curve. The arrows had been a mix of blue and gold, once again confirming to Pit that elemental advantage wouldn't come into play in these fights - at least not without some teamwork.

He didn't call on Ashrah just yet, though his other unseen teammate chimed in with her guidance.

This fighter is a follower of Gargos, a demonic god with a penchant for stealing the powers of others.

Lemme guess, he also wants to steal rule over Earth for himself too.

Got it in one. As his servant, Omen gets his shadow abilities from Gargos. He was originally a being of energy, so fighting with a physical form must be new for him.

So watch out for his special moves and get in close to take him down is what I'm hearing! Physical attacks have gotta be his weak point!

Just keep on your toes - an unpredictable fighter is a dangerous one.

Abandoning the ranged play, Pit let loose one last dash shot before sprinting behind it toward his opponent. Omen's hellish blue glow burned behind his mask, not so easily fooled. With a snarl he suddenly dropped into a demon slide, sailing below the arrow and catching Pit with the sliding kick. The angel stumbled but kept his footing, twisting just in time for a block of his own as Omen came up behind him and lashed out with a one-two of fast claw swipes. Omen pressed in, feinting another slash only to grab Pit. His claws sank deep into the angel's shoulder before he lifted Pit up slightly and delivered a hard straight kick, launching his opponent away from him.

Pit recovered before he landed flat on his back, feet skidding on the waterlogged rock as his wings spread out to stop his backward movement. He glanced behind him once, trying to get a sense of where the stage boundary actually was. When he looked back at Omen not even a moment later, his eyes widened when they caught sight of three swirling shadowy fireballs forming in front of the demon.

"Feel the power of Lord Gargos!" Omen crowed, launching the triplet blobs of energy and immediately conjuring more after the fact. Must be mad about the arrow thing at the start! Pit thought, easily fending off the first projectiles. The rest were trickier as it quickly became apparent that the shadow balls did whatever they wanted. Some flew fast and straight, some swayed in circles or changed speed, some even bounced along the ground as they chased Pit down.

It was definitely unpredictable, and a little annoying, but nothing a little Orbitar action couldn't solve! After a couple of the rashakuken caught him off guard, Pit snapped into a quick summon of his Guardian Orbitars before he could be interrupted. They crashed against the shield and flew back at Omen, who was more than a little surprised to have his dark fireballs reflected. Still, it was a simple matter to block or evade his own shadows. While Omen ceased his deluge of rashakuken and dealt with the return fire, he missed Pit's eyes flicking to Ashrah's, and the subtle nod the both of them shared.

Pit dashed forward as the shadowy fire dispersed, bladed bow at the ready. Omen gathered dark energy around him in preparation to meet the angel head on, growling out a "hrraah!" as he spent part of his shadow meter. He shifted to slash again, but at that point Ashrah had already moved. She leaped into a spin cycle with her kris, body twisting even before her feet touched down. Her wavy sword sliced ribbons into Omen's back, each cut deeper than the last until she ended with an upward swing, sending Omen flying high. Pit jumped up after him to capitalize with his own spinning cycle, twirling his bow in both hands in front of him with a series of slashes that cut up Omen's front just as well as Ashrah had his back. He ended by shifted the weapon to one hand and swinging it in a hard horizontal slash, knocking Omen back and over what must have been the hard-to-spot edge of the area.

There was a swirl of darkness around Omen, so fast as to be instantaneous, suddenly forming a dark of dark webbed wings on his back. They stretched out in much the same way Pit's had earlier, slowing Omen's momentum and then killing it completely with a hard stroke of said wings through the air. Now Omen was upright, floating above the water's surface.

"Wha-? Wings? You can fly?!" Pit exclaimed. Omen did not answer him, and the expression carved into his mask did not change, but Pit still got the feeling that the demon was smirking derisively at him. "Aw, come on!"

Pit had already fallen back to the arena at that point, but he sprung up again immediately. So what if his opponent was airborne? Even if he couldn't fly, he could fight in the air too! Omen conjured another dark fireball, but Pit cut through it as he ascended. The demon blocked preemptively as he guessed that Pit would be attacking from below, but the angel's wings brought him up higher than Omen - so that when he did last out it was with an under arc slash, powerful enough that when it connected with Omen's unprotected top half it sent him careening directly down with a meteor smash. The demon hit the water with a huge splash, and Pit somewhat hastily glided his way back down to the stone stage.

ROUND ONE: PIT WINS
RING OUT

Pit let out a satisfied little puff of breath, giving Ashrah a thumbs up. On the opposite of the area, Omen's partner Shadow Jago stood by impassively. It was hard to tell what the thrall was thinking or feeling, if he even was at all. Since Pit's linkpearl was still in his ear he heard Rika's message, turning his attention from Jago to the audience. Pit himself had mentioned to the royal siblings that he didn't mind if they left part way through given he was confident this was going to be a sure win for him, and so far that did look to be the case. He waved at them as they began to shuffle out and meet up with a few other Seekers. Then, it was back to the match.

It's not that surprising that Omen gets his own version of the Power of Flight from his god.

Yeah, but it IS unfair! How come he gets it but you can't cast the Power of Flight on me?

Pit could practically hear Lady Palutena shrugging. Why don't you just think of it as a handicap? They have to nerf the warrior ward of the one and only Goddess of Light somehow.

She might have just be placating him, but Pit grinned at Palutena's words all the same. He knew he was super strong, so it did kind of make sense. He spun the bow into a battle ready stance as Omen burst out of the water a moment later, landing on the arena and glaring as his dark wings melted away.

"Foolish child! I may have underestimated you, but no more! You stand no chance against me, or the might of Lord Gargos!"

Pit scoffed. "He's got nothing on Lady Palutena!"

Once more the golden wind swirled, bidding the fighters to settle their religious differences not with debate, but with violence.

ROUND TWO: FIGHT!

Omen's starting strategy was much the same - he rushed forward, eager to close the distance. Of course Pit did the same. Now that both fighters got the sense the keep away projectile spam wasn't the best option they clashed almost as soon as the proverbial bell rung. Claw met metal, over and over again, each of their strikes bouncing off the other. Neither wanted to be the first to budge.

"Jago!" Omen barked out, and finally the monk moved. With a plume of shadow he disappeared from his spot on the edge of the arena, reappearing in the air above and behind Pit poised for a dive kick. With only a split second to make a decision, Pit quick summoned his Orbitars once more. One caught Omen's slash as they formed, forcing the demon back as they pushed out in front and behind Pit... which was exactly the issue. In a free-form fight the shields could move in any direction, and in a one on one their restricted flight wasn't much of an issue. With an opponent on two fronts it proved not as effective, as Shadow Jago's angle of attack meant that it bypassed the Orbitar completely and connected.

The kick struck Pit square between his shoulder blades, shoving him forward into Omen's range. "Ha!" the demon laughed as he lashed out with a standing kick. Several, in fact, a furious flurry of kicks that battered his angelic opponent.

By now it was clear to Pit that Omen was a step above his previous opponent. A proper fighter built for this kind of kombat, one that could put him in danger of being locked into a combo. Omen went for it, finishing his barrage of kicks with another demon slide. But if Pit blocked the follow up once before he could again, putting a stop to Omen's aggression by spinning around into a high block against the demon's roundhouse. Omen backed off as Pit reset his stance, spending another chunk of his shadow meter and this time being able to utilize it. He summoned his projectiles, even more at once this time, but they ended up going wide as Pit ducked low and dashed in close. He caught Omen with a few slashes on the torso before the demon put up his own defenses.

Unable to break through the blocks with pure strength Pit tried to shift his direction, but his stature made it easier for Omen to adapt. Pit pulled back, giving the illusion that there was an opening to exploit, but when he noted the shift in Omen's own stance Pit struck out again like a viper, his bow split and each sword stabbing out in a scissor-like chop, pincering Omen's forearms before the demonic herald could complete his own slash. Omen immediately drew back himself, and summoned his wings to swoop away into the air to narrowly avoid Pit's further forward slashes.

"Now Ashrah!" Pit said, and the demoness -cloaked in her own darkness- rushed in to meet Omen as he landed. She swiped at him with her enchanted kriss, connecting the first slash cleanly while the others Omen raised his arm against. With a growl he swiped at Ashrah as she retreated, his claws barely catching the woman. He didn't notice the dark debuff she's left on him, but he did see Pit coming in at him bow-first.

Omen's greater reach let him snatch Pit in both of his claws, his spectral heart starting glow bright as it gathered power. Behind his mask the demon bared his teeth, though he ended up catching a sharp kick to the chin as Pit broke out of the hold. There was a brief flash of light from Pit, long enough for Omen to note there must be another attack coming his way.

"To me!" he demanded, and his thrall appeared once more. This time he teleported in front of Omen just as Pit's Upperdash Arm flew forward. It drove into Shadow Jago's stomach, launching the monk away and leaving his partner unscathed and in position to counter attack.

Omen flexed his claws and raked them against Pit, attempting to back the angel into a combo once more. But Pit didn't panic, and as his back hit the flooded floor he kicked out with his leg to stop Omen's third sliding kick. Lady Palutena was right, like she always was; an unpredictable opponent was dangerous, but if the demon was relying on the few moves he'd learned since taking a corporeal form then Pit's instincts could guide him to anticipate what Omen's next move might be.

The clash was brief, and Pit twisted while still grounded to slice into Omen with his bow. Now on his front he got one foot under him and pushed up into a rising slash, making the demon stagger as the blade carved up the length of his body. Finally the bow began to glow a soft gold as Pit imbued it with elemental light, bringing it down in a falling stab into Omen's shoulder and dragging it out with a quick buzzsaw-like spin. The light reacted with Ashrah's dark debuff, consuming the shadow with a little implosion that dealt extra damage.

Omen fell to his knees, dazed and not likely to stand again before the Heavenly Principles declared Pit's second round win. Pit drew in a breath after a moment spent making sure Omen wasn't about to rise with a sucker punch, and though it was technically a bit early he grinned and made to turn to Ashrah and the scant few remaining in the audience: the sleepy yokai and one or two curious mortals. "Another vic-"

A flash of white and gold passed Pit, though it was headed not for the angel but the demon kneeling in front of him. Unbidden, Ashrah had taken to the field again. She slammed her palm against Omen's defenseless chest, a burst of holy light swimming through his spectral body and out his back, rupturing the demon's heart. Then she spun with her kriss in hand, the blade slicing through Omen's neck. His head fell from his body in a spray of blue-black blood which splattered across both Ashrah and Pit. It rolled to a stop at Pit's feet, and thought he might have been imagining it the angel could have sworn he heard a whisper from the decapitated head. "Lo... G...ar...os..."

ROUND TWO: PIT WINS
BRUTALITY

The words formed in the area almost casually. Pit blinked, initially confused as that what had happened. He looked from the disintegrating head to the blood coating his light clothes, then raised one hand to touch to his cheek, which came away with the same viscera.

"Ashrah...?"

The demoness looked pleased with her work, staring reverently at her sword before looking at her partner. She noticed his confusion and stowed the kriss away. "I explained yesterday, about myself and the kriss. Each demon slain is another step closer to the total cleansing of my soul."

Shadow Jago was nowhere to be found after being flung, but it was likely she would have killed him as well if he'd showed back up. She didn't pay the missing fighter any mind though, just fixing Pit with a look that said she was trying to understand what the angel's hangup was.

"Killing them here in Mortal Kombat affords them more dignity than they deserve. It is a warrior's death, and not uncommon in these tournaments," she patiently explained. "...you disagree with my method?"

"No- I don't think so? I..." the suddenness of the decapitation had caught Pit off guard, but Omen had been a demon. No, that wasn't right - Ashrah was a demon too, and she was... Pit shook his head slightly. Regardless of the fact that Omen was a demon he was clearly evil, working for a god that wanted to take over the world. He probably wouldn't have been able to make his master's plan come to fruition, but it wasn't like it was a bad thing to make sure.

After thinking about it, Pit couldn't disagree with Ashrah at all. He'd put down plenty of demons and monsters in his life so he'd be a bit of a hypocrite if he did. It just felt a little weird in this context, a literal execution. Though like Ashrah had said, this was Mortal Kombat. There was always the chance for death... even for an opponent who had already been beaten, apparently.

"...no problem," Pit decided, bringing the smile back to his face. It was a little smaller than normal, but he gave it to Ashrah all the same. She smiled back in relief when he followed with, "I want to help you purify yourself any way we can!"

In the viewing area of the grotto the slumbering yokai had fully woken up, and it was joined by a few more friends that chirped excitedly at the impromptu execution. For Mortal Kombat fans it was the Loser's Bracket where they could expect to see fighters actually put their lives on the line, but it was a real treat to see it happen unexpectedly in Winner's, especially so early in the Pools. A few of the kappa swam off, likely to spread the word.

Which left the victorious pair to take their leave of the arena. Omen's spirit twinkled darkly on surface while his ashes dispersed in the shallow water. Pit almost wanted to leave it there, but he picked it up to bring with him as he and Ashrah made their way to the walkway that would lead them under the stone arches and out of The Grove.

Focus, Ryu!

C’mon, Tiger! Shrewd as a snake, innocent as a dove.

DING!

DING!

---

---

Both Ryu and Tiger could feel anticipation in the air, as the bell rang and the floating ethereal widgets reappeared close to them, displaying their respective health and stamina. As it was the prior bout, a V-sign emblem appeared next to Ryu’s recharged health bar to symbolize his victory in the first round. The spectators had only gotten louder and noisier when both competitors assumed their stances and circled each other. While most voiced their support for Ryu, it wasn’t to say that very few spectators were behind Tiger, either, seeing that he still had his self-professed followers and fellow martial masters as his support system. One of the martial masters was a red-haired woman sporting a golden head piece and a scanty verdant outfit that left her midriff bare, blowing a kiss to the evangelist from beyond the gondola. Aside from Red Snake, Reika and a few others were evidently present to accompany Tiger in the second round.

“C’mon, Tiger, don’t give up!” Reika shouted aloud, jumping and raising her curled hands. “You got this!”

“Let’s go, Tiger! Let’s go, Tiger!” chanted a brown-haired woman in a baggy blue-and-pink getup, theatrically dancing with her arms swinging left and right.

“Ho ho ho! Knock him out, Tiger boy! I know you could,” said an elderly drunken fist expert, belching after sipping the alcoholic beverage within the gourd-shaped bottle in his hand.

Yet, despite the anticipation, none of the competing men seemed to be trying to attack one another. Well, at least, not yet. Ryu and Tiger were still busy trying to gauge each other’s expressions, eager to get into each other’s heads. It appeared that Tiger was still holding himself back from going all out with the offense, while Ryu raised his guards high enough to anticipate any and every attack thrown in his direction. Eventually, as the crowd’s noises grew, the martial master decided to play along with them, taunting the street fighter with flexing biceps. The taunt managed to charge his power meter, albeit slightly.

“C’mon!” Tiger exclaimed with a smirk.

Instead of getting provoked, Ryu chose to play along, as well. He grasped and pulled both tails of his headband tightly—not to fasten the red headgear, but to taunt his opponent.

“Kakattekoi!” he shouted back with the Japanese equivalent of ‘come on,’ subconsciously building his own power meter.

At the reciprocating taunt, Tiger strode backwards, spreading his arms in front of the spectators quizzically. He wasn’t quite expecting the reaction at all, but given Ryu’s game plan, it wasn’t hard to imagine him holding himself a little longer to bait his opponent to attack first. At the same time, Tiger wasn’t planning on bombarding the street fighter immediately like he did in the first round, so he continued to play mind games with him and flexed his biceps again.

“C’mon!” he exclaimed, his voice louder.

Still, despite the taunting gesture, Ryu remained unfazed. He instead taunted back with his gloved fist extending, his knuckles facing the martial master directly. And as he charged his own power meter, he declared…

“Talk is cheap!”

…which prompted Tiger to raise both of his eyebrows then scrunch his face, the slightest hints of offense readable across his face. Had he talked a little too much? He didn’t think so. Sure, when it came to spreading gospels, he could come across as being preachy and talkative, but in the middle of a bout like this? He’d rather let his fists and claws speak for himself, instead of his mouth, acting as the extension of God’s unlimited power.

And so, after his attempts to provoke Ryu fruited nothing, Tiger decided to close the distance with a clawing thunderclap, his movements sharp yet sudden. There were a pair of auric scythe-shaped energies trailing behind his thrusting arms, as he attempted to leave his opponent’s dark temples with grazes.

SLASH!

Did it work? Unfortunately, before the special move could connect, Ryu had already leaped out of harm’s way, his curling frame casting a shadow over his lunging opponent. The street fighter landed right back on his feet behind the puzzled martial master, stomping the raft with a resounding…

THUMP!

It was a simple taunt, yet it managed to shake and jolt the barrels in place. He didn’t forget to strike his arms out and spread his legs, allowing the force from beneath to course through his veins and charge his power meter.

Tiger, alerted by the stomp, immediately shifted around, as if facing his opponent automatically. He didn’t follow his clawing assault up just yet. Instead of betting on his offenses completely, he chose to approach the second round strategically, entering his kung fu stance and striking his clawing hands outward, observing and baiting Ryu to strike.

From the gondola, the martial master could already hear most spectators urging Ryu to “beat him up!” and chanting “go home, Ken clone!” right in front of his face, the unwelcoming exclaims piercing his ears. Oftentimes, they even went as far as giving Tiger all sorts of nicknames, ranging from the playful but harmless ‘Catholic Ken’ to the harsh ‘Kuso Knockoff.’ Still, whether in good taste or bad taste, the chants didn’t quite affect the martial master at all. He instead sighed, inwardly prayed for the heckling spectators for they know not what they do, while still keeping an eye on the street fighter.

Ryu, on the other hand, continued to raise his guards close to his mandible, his fists hardening and his bare feet bobbing. The way his fellow Esakans ridiculed a number of fighters who looked almost like himself or Ken often made him sick to the stomach, though he remained undistracted. Not when his opponent had already lunged in his direction again with a pair of alternating uppercuts.

BAM!

POW!

“TIGER… CLAW!!”

Given the first round, Ryu knew for certain that Tiger was a sucker for offenses, and he wouldn’t want to fall for his trap anymore. Instead of opting for a regular block, he parried each and every energy-laced uppercut with a loud clash, erupting a bluish hitspark each time his opponent’s fist collided with his forearm. Once foiled, the martial master swung his arm upwards and attempted to run his claws across his torso, though before the sharp appendages could graze his skin, Ryu had already ducked, narrowly evading the sharp, stinging strike. This, thankfully, allowed the street fighter to ambush the martial master with a heavy-hitting, rising uppercut, bouncing the latter several feet to the back with a loud…

POW!

“SHORYUKEN!!”

Just like that, Ryu scored the first attack for the second round. Upon landing back atop the raft, Tiger curled himself and reeled back, immediately halting on his knee. Just when he thought he’d distanced himself from his opponent…

“TATSUMAKI SENPUUKYAKU!!”

Ryu had appeared scarily close to him with an outstretched leg, hovering and spinning like a hurricane. While Tiger managed to block the first half of the tornado kick, its intensifying speed and strength eventually forced him out of his defensive stance, the bare ankle knocking his golden temple over and over. The Tatsumaki Senpuukyaku ended up launching the martial master towards the other end of the raft, cornering him completely.

WHAM!

“Woahhh–!!”

By the time he was recovered, Tiger had found himself standing rather unsteadily by the raft’s edge, the gentle sound of the rustling wave eerily vivid to his ears. As Ryu reached the raft again, he wasted no time and punished his opponent with a “HADOUKEN,” blasting that regular blue fireball out of his hands. Out of instinct, Tiger leaped and dodged past the travelling fireball, closing the gap separating them with a diving kick.

THWACK!

The ambush immediately connected, catching the street fighter off guard. The martial master soon followed it up with an axe kick and a flip kick, cancelling both attacks into each other rather swiftly. Although Ryu managed to block both kicks, he soon had to succumb to Tiger’s raw strength when he broke through his defense with a multi-hitting shoulder tackle, having himself shoved several feet to the back.

CRASH!

“TIGER ATTACK!!”

“Gwahhh–!!”

The street fighter tumbled and reeled on his back, subsequently laying on his midriff. He could sense that his feet were close to slipping past the precipice, the rustling wave beneath nearly grazing his soles. While he continued to recline, the martial master had already left the ground, his boots only moments away from stomping his back. Bad idea, he thought, considering how easy it was to exploit said attack in the last round. Fortunately, it didn’t take a while for Ryu to wake up and dragon-punched his descending opponent right across his mandible, bringing his bare feet out of the raft in a flying motion.

BAM!

“SHORYUKEN!!”

This marked the second time he (successfully) executed a Shoryuken onto his opponent, the very tactic lulling Tiger into a false sense of security. However, like a double-edged knife, the rising uppercut left Ryu wide open while still in mid-air, rendering him vulnerable to each and any anti-air attack. Tiger, having been recovered and reached the ground, ambushed Ryu from beneath his feet, executing a flying shoulder tackle.

WHAM!

“CROUCHING TIGER!!”

And Ryu immediately swallowed the flying, ramming shoulder without being able to block, harshly descending towards the right side of the raft.

CRASH!

“Gahahhh–!!”

As the impact, the street fighter collided with the nearby barrels on his back, tossing one of them into the water. The collision immediately sent Ryu bouncing forth, dropping face first atop the raft. When Tiger landed and took a quick glance over the power meter beneath, he noticed that he had yet to activate any of his power bars throughout the bout. If the number shown next to his power meter was to go by, then perhaps, he’d gained access to his Level 3 super move.

Given that Ryu was still struggling to stand, Tiger activated every single one of the power bars he’d obtained throughout the bout, setting the number next to his power meter to zero. A bright, flickering light appeared, as he went mindlessly feral like the beast he was named after—a complete opposite of the merciful, God-loving evangelist Ryu was accustomed to. Executing the strongest variant of the Breaker, Tiger pounced on his prey, ready to claw and tear the street fighter into pieces.

“RRAAHHH–!!!”

The martial master lunged closer and closer. However, before his clawing hand could connect…

POW!

…Ryu had already woken up, flailing him in the gut with his fist. Tiger’s cheeks puffed as the knuckles knotted his stomach, close to throwing up. As if one devastating blow wasn’t enough…

BAM!

…he followed it up with the one that went straight to his opponent’s mandible, employing an alternating fist, instead. Once everything was said and done…

WHAM!

“No escape!”

…the street fighter concluded the series of devastating strikes with the strongest variation of Shoryuken, launching his opponent with him. His battle cry was exclaimed, louder than ever before.

“SHIN… SHORYUKEN!!!”

There was a massive, ink-like hitspark forming around where Ryu’s knuckles had grazed the martial master, as the Shin Shoryuken was executed. Little did Tiger realize that Ryu had been intentionally keeping all his power bars intact for this exact moment. For every time the blow connected, Tiger’s health bar was drastically drained to the point where he was closer and closer to getting knocked out. After the final blow connected, the Level 3 super move successfully sent the martial master back to the raft, his back harshly colliding with its sturdy surface.

THUD!

“ARGGHHH–!!”

The collision’s harsh impact—combined with the damage inflicted upon him by the super move—was sufficient to knock Tiger out instantly, depleting what was left of his health bar. The metaphysical bell rang, and the martial master laid still with his eyes closed.

DING!

DING!

As per tradition, the accompanying widgets dispersed, regathered, then morphed into letters of gold separating the street fighter from the fainting martial master. The announcement was displayed, and it declared:

---

---

“Dōshita!? Tate!” Ryu urged, his face stern as he cast a glance over the prone Tiger. “I told you, you must defeat my Shoryuken to stand a chance!”

Most spectators screamed and rejoiced, as the original World Warrior champion came out victorious. Instead of absorbing the noises of the crowd, Ryu only closed his eyes and stood still with his arms crossed, letting the gentle wind blow the tails of his headband.

As the crowd carried on with the celebration, though, there was a defeated competitor still struggling to stand by the other corner of the raft as he woke up. When Ryu opened his eyes and turned his attention towards Tiger, he had only discovered that the martial master had been surrounded by his fair share of supporters upon his awakening. His missionary partners, the people whose lives he saved through the teachings of Christ, and his fellow martial masters had all stepped out of the gondola to lend him a helping hand. Out of all of them, only Felicia, Saojin, and Reika were close enough to reach out and help him lift himself up. But sure enough, when offered help, Tiger chose to turn down the offer, telling them “it’s okay” because the injuries were minor and that “I can still stand by myself.” With leisure strides, he approached the winning street fighter once he stood out of his sitting position, holding out a hand.

“Congratulations, brother Ryu,” Tiger congratulated with a soft smile, his peaceful demeanor restored. “Once again, you’re the better fighter between us. I couldn’t be prouder. I knew you would’ve come on top, eventually.”

Ryu smiled back and shook his opponent’s hand—more of a sign of gratitude than it was flattery. “Don’t undersell yourself like that. That was an excellent performance! This is why I hold the art of Chinese kung fu in high regard,” he praised before adding: “And frankly, you reignited something in me after our duel. It’s been so long since I fought somebody who could reinvigorate my spirit the way you did, even when it’s yet to die out.”

Tiger snorted, nearly snickering. “It’s a pleasure, brother Ryu,” he said heartily. “A pleasure to bring you closer to God. It’s why I’m here in this tournament, after all: to serve and to share God’s love with my fellow Esakans. Eventually, I hope that God has helped you find your calling, too. If not now, then perhaps, God has better plans for you, whatever and whenever that is.”

“Right,” Ryu answered pensively before adding: “Admittedly, I’d been contemplating what you told me before the match about saving the lost sheep, and I found that… maybe you're right. These fists aren’t just for battle anymore. They’re for defense, and we must use them for the goodness of others. You have no idea, Tiger, but travelling outside of Esaka has truly opened my eyes lately in regards to the world we’re living in. I must say that we’re fortunate enough to be gifted with the ability to fight because most people out there? They sure hoped that they had a fraction of what we could do. I think I’m getting closer to finding the answer to my question.”

Tiger listened attentively, nodding at some of his words. It appeared that his teachings had started to make the street fighter think. “Oh, believe me, brother Ryu, I know,” he claimed, placing a reassuring hand over his opponent’s shoulder. “I spent most of my life spreading the word of God to the ends of Earth. I’d witnessed and experienced all kinds of unimaginable deeds done to men throughout my journey, so I understand how you feel.” And that reminded Tiger of when the White Lotus sect kidnapped and tormented his fellow missionaries during their trip to a neighboring country. He remembered the agony, the fright, and the anger he felt in that moment, especially when his mentor who had nothing to do with his mission was being involved. While the tragedy still left him scarred to this day, he’d, thankfully, learned to forgive the culprits ever since. He drew a deep, deep breath, continuing to speak before Ryu could even chime in. “Also, brother Ryu, before you leave, may I pray for you?”

“Um… Sure!” Ryu answered with barely any hesitation—more out of respect than anything. He lowered his head and brought himself on both knees, as Tiger formed the sign of cross with his fingers, then held out an energy-laced hand atop his opponent’s head. The prayer began, and both men closed their eyes.

“Dear Father in Heaven, we would like to thank You for this wonderful afternoon and for the spectacular match which You had allowed us to participate in. Thank You for allowing brother Ryu to win this battle. May Your mercy and wisdom guide his every path and help him get through every battle from now and forever. In Jesus’ name, we pray…”

Before he concluded the prayer with an “Amen,” Tiger took a moment to read the ‘Our Father’ prayer in front Ryu, sensing as though a number of fellow believers had been following every part of the latter prayer that came out of his mouth. As both men opened their eyes, the martial master gave the street fighter one last friendly pat, his hand resting on the latter’s shoulder.

“Remember that Jesus loves you, brother Ryu. He loves you so dearly that He gave His life for you so that you may be saved. May His grace be with you throughout the tournament from now and beyond. I’m sure it won’t take long until you find the answer you’ve been craving for. You just have to hang in there and let God do His wonders.”

Ryu nodded. “I’ll try.” Already standing out of his kneeling position, he grabbed the duffle bag lying close to his toes, slinging it over his shoulder. He shifted around, though before he walked further, he gave Tiger one last glance over his shoulder, glimmers of gratitude evident through his eyes. “And… thank you,” he said. “Thank you for the prayer. May our paths cross again. Whenever that is...”

“Hopefully,” Tiger reciprocated with a small nod, giving Ryu a gentle wave. “God bless, brother Ryu!”

And that wrapped up Ryu’s second match in the World Warrior tournament. While they weren’t the best of the best, it was safe to say that his first two opponents managed to hold their own against the original World Warrior champion surprisingly well. His next opponent: Makoto Mizoguchi.

FIN.

—

After Sakura gently nudged Golrio into the Losers Bracket and had her banter with Two P, her eyes glanced towards a somewhat unusual sight. A rich looking lady, clapping politely in the audience. Despite having fought in large crowds before, one person paying so much attention like that made Sakura shy. She waved back at the stranger with a modest beam.

Walking closer to the exit had unintentionally put Sakura within conversation distance. So she decided to speak. ”Sorry if you were rooting for the other guy, Miss.” Sakura said.

”Are you a fighter, too?” She asked, wondering if she might meet this woman later on in the bracket.

The lady seemed happy that Sakura had come to say hello, a bright smile on her face as her sunglasses regarded the martial artist. Though her elegant garb and composed bearing spoke of traditional, quiet grace, her demeanor seemed rather cordial. “Oh, not at all! I was hoping you’d win, in fact. Your fighting skills are very impressive, and with a can-do attitude like yours, it’s hard not to root for you. I hope you don’t mind me following you around. Please, just consider me an everyday fan.”

”Oh, no, no problem.” Sakura giggled, rubbing the bottom of her nose with her index finger.

She clasped her hands in front of her as she shook her head. “I’m not a fighter, no. I’m new in Esaka…what some folks here would probably call a tourist, I think.” She allowed herself a somewhat sheepish smile. “I am passionate about martial arts, though. I’ve watched Esaka tournaments before, albeit from afar. I’ve led a rather…well, sheltered existence, I’m afraid. Isolated from common folk. The outside world…” The lady looked out across the pools. “So I wanted to walk the city streets for myself. Learn about the customs, the culture, the combat…and people like you, of course. It’s all very interesting…” She smiled as she shrugged helplessly. “But a little intimidating. So much to take in. To be honest, I don’t even know how I’d go about getting lunch. But I am getting rather hungry.”

Her eyebrows shot up suddenly. “Oh, you must forgive me, where are my manners? Please, call me Ei. How may I call you?”

”Pleased to meet you, Ei-san.” Sakura said with a bow. ”My name’s Sakura.”

Then she pointed past Ei. Despite her relatively young age Sakura was very well travelled and as such had a keen sense of direction, so she was probably on the money.

”There’s a cafe not too far called the Quick Rise. I was just there this morning. It’s in the Low Tiers though so it might be a little rough and tumble for a lady like yourself. Stuff just gets fancier the higher you get and uh, ‘vice versa’. But in my experience, people in Esaka tend to leave non-fighters alone. Then again, uh, I’m not a non-fighter…but if I saw anyone picking on someone, I’d beat them up.” Sakura said with a nod.

Ei stifled a light titter, her mouth politely covered by her hands. “Of that, I have no doubt. Well, thank you for the recommendation, miss Sakura. Although I can’t say it excites me, perhaps some ‘rough-and-tumble’ would help my broaden my horizons. I, er, don’t have anything to fear from robbers or swindlers down there, do I…?” Her gaze turned from the precipice overlooking the Low Tier back toward the young martial artist as she ran a hand through her hair. “Of course, I’m also eager to see your next match. Are you headed toward your next bout now?”

”I like that phrase. Rough and tumble.” Sakura said.

”Um. I don’t think so? But now I’d feel especially bad if you went down there and got scammed or mugged after I sent you that way.” Sakura said, putting her finger against her grimacing teeth.

”They give us, like, a little break between matches. You know, to shake off the dizziness from getting clobbered.” She rapped the side of her temple. ”I could go with you and make sure you got there if you’re feeling adventurous.” Sakura said with a shrug.

The offer seemed to please Ei, who offered the girl a grateful smile. “Oh, would you? You’re too kind.” Although her sunglasses obscured her expression somewhat, the lady gave Sakura an apologetic look. “I don’t mean to rush, of course, but shall we get started? Much longer and I fear my stomach might start rumbling. I’m embarrassed enough as is….” She gestured in the general direction of the Lower Tier. There was a lift a little less than a five minutes’ walk away, the distance exacerbated a bit by the Pools’ unique layout. “I’d be happy to chat with you on the way, if you’re willing. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d actually get the chance to know any up-and-coming fighters…this is going quite well, so far!” Beneath her noble and austere appearance, there was an earnest, slightly awkward undercurrent that made Ei somewhat endearing.

Sakura smiled and readjusted her headband behind her head. ”Yeah, let’s go. I could eat, anyway.”

As they walked, and Ei happily reported on the success of her endeavor, Sakura tilted her head and nodded. ”The audience can be pretty tough around here.” Sakura said. ”Lots of jerks that shout nasty things. I mean, they’re literal yokai, but still, it can get pretty annoying. And if they do like you, it’s like, a lot to handle. So someone like you sticks out, Ei-san. In a good way, I mean.” Sakura reassured Ei. She absent-mindedly punched the air a couple times, before ducking a strike and countering an imaginary attacker.

Ei watched her new acquaintance practice for a moment, seemingly bemused but intrigued. “Oh, okay. I mean, better than sticking out in a bad way.” She glanced at various passers-by as she followed Sakura along the walkway toward the edge of the tier, her huge braid swinging gently behind her. “So far I haven't had any trouble, but few seem eager to speak to me. Hopefully my appearance doesn't put people off.” When she relaxed her expression, her resting face did look almost condescendingly stern combined with her expensive and showy attire. After a moment a sheepish look manifested. “Oh, well.”

”I mean, stick out to me. In terms of…cheering people on.” She tried to clarify. ”Yeah, I have a friend with a face like that.” Sakura said with an understanding nod.

As the two drew closer to the lift, Ei hastened her steps slightly to walk alongside Sakura. At close range, it was easier to tell that Ei stood about six inches taller than Sakura herself. “I'd be interested to hear more about you, being a fan and all,” she began, somewhat playfully. “Are you hoping to become the champion? After seeing you in action, I bet you could do it.”

Sakura stood in the lift and looked out across the city as the doors closed. While her tone was still light, her answer was serious. ”Every fighter wants to become the champion. You get one, maybe two tournaments where you’re just ‘fighting for fun’. After that, you can’t help but fight to win.” Sakura said. She opened and closed her gloved fist.

”I’m here with a large team. As long as any of us become the champion, we’ll be happy.” She looked at Ei and smiled, but something burned behind her eyes. ”But I want to do it. I want to be the champion. I’ve wanted it since before I met any of them. Before I even came to Esaka, I’ve wanted to win something big.”

“Just to see if you can do it?” Ei inquired, pausing as the elevator jerked into motion and began its slow descent. “Or to prove something, perhaps?”

Sakura worked her mouth to the side, thoughtful as she looked down at her shoes. ”Ei-san, you probably have something you want to try your hardest at, right? It’s hard to put into words. I’m putting everything I’ve got into these tournaments, though this tournament in particular is special. It’s probably the last one I’ll be able to fight in for a while.” Sakura said.

”Sometimes I wish I had picked something else to pour my soul into. I don’t think there’s any pursuit in the universe that has higher peaks and lower valleys than fighting other people. It’s really hard on your heart. Metaphorically speaking. It’s great for your cardio.” She smirked briefly, raising her eyebrows at Ei.

”I want to win to prove that I can win. That it was all worth it. That I could one day match that man in skill. So people…know I was here.” She said.

”Man. This got deep. The food at the cafe is good.”

Sakura’s attempt to change the subject suggested that she didn’t want to dwell on her motivation much longer, so while she might have not necessarily understood where the girl was coming from, Ei did not try to pry any further. She waited out the rest of the descent in silence, idly studying the Low Tier as it approached while a couple other elevator riders chatted in the background. Finally the lift came to a rest in its depression, the shock of impact absorbed by the mechanism’s springs but still just strong enough to make everyone stumble slightly. Ei reflexively reached out and steadied herself on Sakura’s shoulder, then flashed her an apologetic glance.

Sakura felt she wasn’t trying to change the subject so much as lighten the mood, so she smiled at Ei and shook her head. ‘Don’t worry’.

A moment later, the two were walking along the narrow cobblestone streets of Esaka’s ground floor. Despite her unfamiliarity with this cluttered, sooty district, Ei did not seem intimidated, and her looks did not earn her resentful glares . Tiers weren’t necessarily indicators of individual wealth, after all; there were plenty of Low Tier fighters who put their meager earnings into lavish costumes, and plenty of High Tier fighters so focused on winning and self-improvement that that looked (and sometimes smelled) like bums. Still, Ei was heavily relying on Sakura to show her the way, and did not allow her eager curiosity draw her too far away from her guide.

”Ta-da! Here it is.” Sakura showed Ei to the Quick Rise cafe with a dramatic flourish of her hand.

”Plenty of time to grab something quick before the next round of pools.” She rubbed her chin. ”I’m still coasting off some money I made, like, a week ago. But it was enough that when I’m not mooching off my team I can pay for my own food.”

Ei slowed down as she approached the cafe, her eyes on the chalkboard menu out front by the main door. At least, that seemed to be the case, since with her sunglasses on it was hard to tell exactly. “Oh, good. Though at the rate you’re going, you’ll have yokai lining up to donate in no time, I bet.” She glanced over at Sakura, her brows rising above the rims of her sunglasses. “Hm, your team, you said? But you’re not in King of Fighters. I’m not getting a whiff of collusion here, am I?” Under normal circumstances Ei’s severe tone and bearing might have made it seem like a serious accusation, but the smile playing around her lips betrayed the fact she was joking.

Sakura rubbed the back of her head. ”Uhh…”

”No, no, no collusion.” She shook her head. ”If I meet any of my friends in bracket, I’m not holding back! No collusion, no collusion.”

”Even though it’s definitely not cheating to have a team, I feel like I should be quieter about it anyway. People might get the wrong idea.” Sakura said.

Ei couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh, I wasn’t being serious. Besides, if entire dojos can sign up for certain tournaments, I’m sure a few friends are fine. Plus, after what you said earlier, it doesn’t sound like you’d settle for anything but a genuine win.” After one more glance at the menu, Ei inhaled deeply. “Okay, I know what I’d like. Would you mind coming in with me? Just to make sure I don’t…mess up while ordering, somehow.”

”Sure! I wanna get something, too!” Sakura said.

With Sakura at her back, the elegant lady walked inside. She almost messed up right away, not realizing that she needed to stand in line in order to reach the counter, but the martial artist corrected Ei before she could embarrass herself. After that she waited dutifully until she had the chance to place her order. While somewhat tentative, she didn’t say anything usual, although what she requested was a little suspect: a jelly danish, an apple pastry, a slice of pie, and a hot chocolate. In other words, all sugary desserts.

Sakura narrowed her eyes playfully at the sweet loot. Ei-san was a real character.

With her bag of sweets in one hand and her drink in the other, Ei stepped outside and seated herself at a two-person table. “Thanks again for everything, miss Sakura,” she told her guide, smiling. “For the help, and for getting to know you. I hope to catch your next match when I’m done here.”

Sakura was already ¾ of the way through a sandwich, having elected to not even sit down. Mouth full, she gave the elegant lady a thumbs up. When she was done, she grinned. ”No problem! Meeting interesting people is one of the best parts about travelling. I guess I’ll see you around then, Ei-san?”

“Absolutely,” Ei replied, before digging into her sweets herself.

Sakura waved. ”Be seeing you!” She turned and jogged off. That was refreshing. Time to get warmed up for her next bout.

It was a shame he couldn't take the Laytonmobile far from Edinburgh. The chill of snowy north was something he could handle, but it meant that he had to rely on public transportation in a region lacking in such amenities.

He was lucky, then, to have happened across a band of travelers with room to spare.

The carriage Layton was in trundled along at a smooth pace, situated at the back of the caravan that so graciously took him onboard. He had to share the space with the group's young ones - a negligible price for the kindness. The fleas' temperament reminded him of his apprentice, curious and full of energy, and there was a twang in his heart to follow. Luke... what had happened to the boy?

Hopefully he was merely living his life. The silence still worried him, however.

Layton turned his mind to other matters. He flipped the pages of his Puzzle Index, making sure to record several more he had encountered up to now. The one about the poodle and the apple pie was a particular favorite. The scenery outside changed gradually as the caravan made its way through some woods, past a sleepy fishing town, and further on. The view wasn't particularly inspiring, though Layton enjoyed the quaintness nonetheless.

At some point the carriage slowed to a halt, to the shouts of the lead driver. It didn't look as if they had stopped for rest, seeing how they were currently in quite a steep valley, so Layton left to see if something was wrong.

"Is there a problem, Mooshka?" Professor Layton joined the front of the procession where the Fleamaster was engaged with the driver. As Layton anticipated, it seemed their path was cut off by a frozen lake, mired with rocks and fragile breaks in the ice.

"Ah, ah, Mister Layton!" Mooshka turned to address him. Much like the other fleas his height only reached the Professor's midsection. "A problem, yes, but not one a guest of ours should worry themselves with! Our caravan merely cannot move forward. My apologies, we will need to turn around and find a new path."

"It does seem as though this lake blocks the way forward," Layton remarked, surveying the area, "though to retrace our steps would take quite a bit of time. Perhaps I can be of assistance?"

"Oh, no, I truly cannot ask that of you! Already you must contend with this delay to our destination..."

Layton shook his head and smiled. "Think nothing of it. I'm only repaying your kindness. In fact, I believe I already see a safe path..."


"Vavenda!" Once the fleas were all safely on the other side, Mooshka met with Layton once more. "That is, incredible! How truly fortunate we fleas are to have a guest like you!"

"Anytime." Layton replied with a tip of his hat, "offering help to others is what a gentleman does, after all."

And just like that the caravan returned to the road. Layton took his seat in the young fleas' carriage yet again, and started to add traversing the lake to the Index. Puzzles truly can be found anywhere.

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When the noise of settling Seekers finally struck Ramattra’s sensors, his spider-like red lights would slowly blink online, ending the meditation he had taken during his rest time at night. While the Omnic had no proper sleeping function, he often found good rest when he meditated in solitude. The leader of Null Sector felt that today was going to be a long day for all of the Seekers, especially at Sandaphlon’s mention of her hopeful wishes that White Team make their destination by the end of the day. “Great. Let us make haste this morning, then.” Ramattra was among the first to regroup outside the stagecoach, his three metallic legs clambering odd footprints into the snow behind him.

Meanwhile, Tenna, who had delegated the task of pet-sitting the horrific dog (as he came to learn it could become when being ignored for too long) to himself and two of his Shadow Guys. It was in everyone’s best interest to occupy this dog while they made distance so that it was unable to follow them, so Tenna spoke to his minions, requesting they stay behind while he and the rest of the Seekers progress forward. While Tenna would prefer to be somewhere with more people and opportunities for performing, the company of the White Team was the most lively action available for miles, and following them was his only hope of going to more interesting places, so his travelling spirits were at an all-time high!

With the note to keep an eye out for higher-quality food out, Ramattra knew what his morning would consist of immediately. It was almost ironic that the first notable place they reached was some ruins occupied by rabbits of varied sizes. Unfortunately, Ramattra’s amateur knowledge of survival told him nothing about how to approach the man-sized rabbits. Tenna, who quickly realised the large rabbits were of non-sentient intelligence and did not care about him, took no immediate interest in the small village until he saw the Omnic attempting to converse with one of the large “rabbit-folk”.

As soon as the Omnic got a couple of meters close to a single Bunnyman, it began smelling the air, almost as if it sensed something coming close. However, unlike running away from the large robot like its smaller counterparts had done when he got too close, the large rabbit-man began chasing after the Omnic, its motives unclear at first glance. The Omnic was prepared to draw his weapon in case the creature was feral, like he suspected; however, since it was not immediately attacking, he wanted to entertain the idea of discovering whether or not these creatures had any higher intelligence. “Err- Hello. I am the Omnic Ramattra. May you tell us where we are?”

The creature continued to sniff around, not really paying any attention to Ramattra’s words. It almost looked like it smelled something on the Null Sector commander, but with fairly empty pockets, there was only one assumption to be had. “Ah. Hungry? Here you go… Freakish thing.” The Omnic offered it a scarce helping of berries to avoid expending what little sustenance the living members of his team needed. The creature took the food without a thought behind it, not appearing grateful or even considerate that he had shared it, further concluding his odd experiment.

“I’d really like to avoid conflict with these creatures as they seem drawn to food. Try to keep them away from the stagecoach and whatever provisions we have left.” The Omnic suggested, now contemplating a method to hunt the smaller antenna-adorned Rabbits. Hoping to avoid making the large beasts angry, Ramattra assumed he would need to capture them without harm and would need to use the resources available to him either via Edward’s Armory or whatever he could find naturally.

Tenna, nearby, had already been boredly picking up loose pieces of stray grass, with no conflict or group of people to entertain; this was the best use of his time, seeing as the smaller rabbits would’ve been simpler to collect with some sort of makeshift trap. Two of his Shadow Guys, freshly summoned, were already assisting as well. Impressed by his ability to pay attention and help out when needed, the Omnic would gather odd sticks and twigs around as well, helping the collection process with an additional body. “Great work. Glad to see you using some backbone.” The compliment cheered Tenna up slightly.

Once they had gathered enough resources to build a handful of traps, the two seekers and Tenna’s minions got to work before they passed the area. There was no going back if they didn’t capture the rabbits now. The traps were hastily crafted and were woven amateurishly, but could certainly succeed at capturing small prey. The Omnic gently placed small amounts of berries in each trap to lure the small, odd mammals to their doom. It would take a small wait, but with how many were residing in the abandoned village, as well as their seemingly below-average intelligence for a rabbit, not long enough before the stagecoach would depart down the ice raceway nearby.