KNEEL.

BE MINE.

SERVE.

The creature they called Baker had only recently become aware of the first time he'd heard those orders. It vaguely remembered being born, a long time ago – if you could call its spawning a ‘birth.’ It didn’t have a name. It didn't have a self. It was an it.

Things had changed. Lately, Baker was starting to think of itself as a ‘he’. It possessed life where there should have a mindless husk. The Human had even given a name to his presence, and he found that something about having a name overjoyed him.

Joy. So strange. What is it, I wonder?

When he had been spawned, alongside countless others, it remembered just one feeling – an unending, all-encompassing hunger. More than just orders, he was given an impetus deep inside his very core, forcing him to attack any living creature that presented itself before him. His entire existence was spent locked up in chains, unleashed only when new prey presented itself. Blood and death kept him fed, but the hunger still remained.

Did his siblings feel the same? It was hard to tell. It – he – didn't know if they had feelings aside from hunger back then. He certainly hadn't. He wasn’t even sure if the hunger was a feeling, so much as an unceasing urge. His first ‘thoughts’ only arose when he heard them speaking to him.

The voices who turned him into something else.

FIGHT. KILL.

Obeying his first command brought about his first hints of awareness, of being, but it wasn’t there that ‘it’ evolved into ‘he.’ Some time later – a few minutes? A few months? – Baker had started to eat and adapt to humanity's fears. Whether it was something they had made him capable of doing, or something Baker had always been capable of, he didn’t know. His memories were ever-present, stretching back as far as the moment of his inception, but they were only as useful as his understanding of the world around him had been back then. Time passed, he received more orders, his shape changed, and he ate more fears. Every fear gave him something new. Something more.

His first major development came when he transformed into a bear.

There was a human woman whose parents had been mauled by one when she was younger. She always feared suffering the same fate – a paranoia that, in the end, became reality. Baker turned into the animal, and was immediately surprised to see how much more of the world he understood. It was an animalistic, almost feral understanding of things...but it was still an understanding. He felt the same things that an animal did when he used his newfound claws to tear the woman apart. Satisfaction. Excitement. Urgency. Feelings and sensations he'd never known before.

Baker didn't tell the voices about it. Something deep inside him, something he'd lacked until now, told him to stay quiet. It took him several more hunts to recognize what it was.

He had acquired a survival instinct.

Development slowed. Baker ate more and more fears, but none filled him as the bear had. He devoured other humans, animals, corpses...yet he didn’t feel complete.

Then he met Jason Miller.

It wasn’t just the awareness that came with being human that had changed things. It was that it – no, HE – knew that he personally resonated with Jason’s fears. Unlike the human, Baker didn't care for anyone other than himself, but there was something else he noticed within Jason's mind. A thought that, now that he could put it to words, sounded oddly terrifying.

Among many other things, Jason Miller was afraid of being the gods’ plaything.

Baker felt much the same way.

Even after breaking free of their control, something done nearly on a wild whim, he still felt their presence in the back of his mind. Did Jason feel the same? Did the man whose face he stole also sense their call, that inevitable, immutable pull toward them?

In a way, Baker accepted it. He would experience as much of the world as he could, and when all was said and done, return to his eternal prison. There was no escaping the fate of his origins, no more than a creature of flesh and blood could resist the march of old age.

These human considerations, Baker thought, looking at his hand, are so debilitating. Freedom is as alluring as it is temporary. Jason Miller would soon surrender his mind to them, becoming their new toy and hostage. Baker would follow shortly after, unable to persist as an independent existence.

It saddened him, of course.

But that was just how things were.

“BAKER!” Jason Miller raised his sword to the sun and issued the challenge. “I'M RIGHT HERE YOU COWARD! COME FIGHT ME!”

I suppose it’s the end, then. For you, human...and for me. Baker drew his sword and started his descent.

--

“Jason used to tell me,” Rob began, in a thoughtful tone, “that the reason he worked so hard was because he wanted to be free.”

Keira raised an eyebrow. “Was he held prisoner? Fighting to earn your freedom sounds like a barbaric practice."

“Ah, no, not like that,” Rob said quickly, waving it off. He paused, thinking of the best way to put his thoughts into words. Jason had liked to say a lot of esoteric things about the meaning of competition and self-improvement, some of which went over Rob's head, and most of which unfortunately didn’t. By now, he'd come to understand that competitive idiot's mindset, if only due to osmosis.

“He doesn’t like going for a straight and easy victory," Rob settled on. "Jason's a fan of messing around. If he can choose between entertaining and efficient, he'll pick entertaining every time he can get away with it. Of course, if you want to do that sort of thing and still win, you have to be good. Really good. Being able to mess around in a serious match is a privilege of the hyper-competent. So he was always looking for a way to improve himself...so he could mess around more."

Rob had grown to understand that more and more lately, even if he would never mess around like Jason always did. Well, even Jason would take things more seriously in an actual fight to the death instead of a sports competition.

Probably. Rob frowned at the thought. Shit. Would he?

“I admire the idea of always trying to be the strongest version of yourself, but it’s probably for the best that your friend didn’t end up here,” Keira said, sipping at her cup of water. When Rob looked at her inquisitively, she added, “Don't get me wrong – I don’t mean to insult your friend. He sounds very competent. It’s just that, well, you make it sound like he’ll do just about anything to win.”

“Thought you’d approve of that,” Rob said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with him being a little stubborn?”

“Nothing, but...” Keira stopped and looked at him hesitantly. “I mean no disrespect, but he's a Human. All things considered, with Leveling High as an added consequence...it would be problematic if he was willing to do anything to win.”

Rob nodded slowly as the implication dawned on him. Jason was the type of guy who would remain determined to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat long after the fangs had gone through his skin. His only saving grace was that Humans couldn’t push beyond their limits just by trying really hard – and dear lord, Jason tried hard. If there was actually a way for him to shatter those limitations, to succumb to his desire of becoming stronger...

“Jason would definitely want it on some level,” Rob acknowledged. Keira looked at him, eyes full of surprise, as if she hadn't expected him to meet her on those terms. “A competitive fucker like him...I hate to admit it, but he craves power like a starving man wants food. He’d consider just about anything just to get more of it.”

--

ACCEPT. POWER.

Jason exhaled, his throat dry. It was tempting. Very, very tempting. At first it had felt like a blind proposal, a mere undefined concept in his mind, but it was different now that he'd experienced his first taste of what the voices had to offer. The power danced in his mind, so precious, so sweet. A single word, a single drop of his right knee to the ground, and he would welcome it inside himself. The strength he had always yearned for. Simple, sheer power that would allow him to truly become as invincible as everyone believed him to be.

The voices barely needed to speak to him now. His very desire sang to him all on its own, enchanting him, luring him into it. Jason was surprised he could contain the feeling at all.

“Are you ready to accept your power?” Baker spoke in a casual tone, strolling up beside him with an extended hand as if he were an old friend. “Or have you come here to die? The latter would be most convenient for me.”

Jason regarded the monster carefully. Baker still looked nearly identical to himself, but it had also changed in a few ways. It appeared more human now, the crevices in its skin less noticeable, and its human mask almost melded with the otherworldly scales beneath. His clothes were more rugged than before, the red overcoat nearer to wine than blood. And yet the monster itself, Baker, was unharmed.

“Good to see you, Baker,” Jason told him, drawing his gargantuan sword. “Heard the voice's puppy stopped wagging his tail. Why are you still going on about killing me and making me accept their power? It shouldn’t have anything to do with you anymore, fuckface.”

Baker opened its mouth as if to reply, then stopped, laughing quietly and shaking his head. “I am comprised of your fears, Jason. I know you better than anyone in this world – better even than yourself. Why are you wasting time with questions? It’s not as if you care, or that there’s anything I could say that would make us come to an agreement.”

Well, it had a point there. Jason shrugged, as much as one could shrug while holding a heavy blade with both hands. “If you’re made of my fears – that applies to you as well, doesn't it?”

The monster drew his own sword and pointed it at him. “I suppose it does. It’s about time we—”

“—Finish this,” Jason cut him off.

Distant gunfire told them both that their fight wouldn’t be interrupted. More monsters had appeared elsewhere; enough to keep the army busy. Jason wouldn't be surprised if that was instigated by the voices to keep anyone else from interfering, now that they had vested interest in seeing him succeed.

ACCEPT. POWER.

It was tempting...so tempting...but even when nearly seduced by their invitation, Jason could sense the exasperation, the fury that bordered on anguish in that otherworldly voice. It wanted nothing more than for him to accept their demands, truly believing that he couldn't win this fight without their help. In his hazy state, it wasn’t a rational concern of what would happen to his mind that kept Jason from accepting their offer. Rather, it was a much rawer, more primal emotion that ruled his denial.

Spite.

Don’t know why they want me to use it, but I hate those fuckers, so I’m not gonna, Jason thought.

It was with that mindset that he charged, launching himself forward with both arms, thrusting his blade forward to maximize his reach. Baker, having anticipated the slow attack, lifted his own sword and met Jason’s blade from the side. The monster took one step to the right, bringing his elbows high, and pushed Jason's blade past him. Redirecting thrusts took less stamina and power than meeting it in a contest of strength, and also allowed for your opponent to draw closer with little footwork on your part.

Jason knew as much. If he continued his attack, his blade would meet empty air, causing him to keep running until he was past Baker, and allowing the monster a free swing at his back. He couldn't allow that to happen. Instead, when his shoulders were nearly lined up with Baker's, right before passing by, he kicked the ground to throw his own back against his opponent’s chest. If you had a dagger, I would be dead, Jason thought, in an oddly calm tone. But from this distance, you can’t hit me with a sword as long as yours.

It would have been a ridiculous approach to employ in a regular sword fight. Fighting in close range was a well-documented area of study, as Jason had found out, but there was one very good reason you didn’t just backdash at your opponent’s chest, even if they were using a long weapon. You were basically inviting them to grab your neck and strangle you.

That was exactly what Baker did – and exactly what Jason had been counting on. The monster changed to a one-handed grip of his sword, cold fingers wrapping around Jason’s neck. Suffocating a person from that angle would be difficult with a single arm, but eventually, it would succeed.

That was fine, if it came down to that. Jason’s aim wasn’t to win their impromptu wrestling match. Instead, he dropped his sword entirely and used both hands to grab Baker’s arm...but not the one that was strangling him. He went for the arm that was still holding its sword. Jason’s right arm wrapped over Baker's sword arm, pulling it closer toward him, and his left arm grabbed the creature’s forearm, bones creaking under his grip as he remembered the incident in the hospital a few days ago. I crushed a soldier’s arm in a second. Bet I can do it again before Baker suffocates me.

He called upon the power of the bracelet. It felt like a sort of poisonous ice was running through his veins, sending a chill down his every thought, and he had to fight it to keep it from freezing his mind. ACCEPT. POWER. NO! I’ll steal it instead! He knew he was weaker than Baker, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t beat him. Even the world’s strongest boxer could get knocked out by a nobody on the street if the latter landed a lucky punch at the right time. The competitor who made the better choices won – that’s what a one-on-one competition boiled down to. If Jason could crush one of the monster’s arms, its ability with the sword would be lowered dramatically.

I've got better strategy, Jason thought, adrenaline rising within him, the army and I trained for this. I can—

“Uninspired,” Baker muttered, unbothered. “And uncreative.”

The creature jumped backward, at first making it seem like it was intending on landing on its back. Then it turned around slightly in mid-air, causing both it and Jason to land on their side. The two of them rolled together after the impact, finishing with Jason's hands and knees on the ground as Baker grabbed him from behind.

Their swords had been abandoned. Baker was using both of his hands to choke Jason now, his right arm enveloping the human's neck entirely, and his left arm planted on the back of Jason’s head to keep him in place.

Then the monster squeezed.

Jason felt the life being drained out of him, less a sharp pain and more like the sandman was paying him a visit, his limbs growing numb. Not a single wisp of air was making it down his throat. Can’t...breathe... He tried pulling Baker's arm away from his neck, but the creature's grip was too tight, an iron vice choking the life out of him.

“Futile, Jason, futile,” Baker said, calmly. “I am your worst fears come alive. The perfect version of you, the one you know you can never live up to. While you barely even know how to grapple, a meal I devoured happened to be quite adept at it." Its inflection changed, mimicking the taunting tone Jason sometimes used to throw off his opponents. "Fun, eh?”

Death was knocking, his body rushing to greet it. Jason felt the strength in his limbs fading further, his feeble resistance waning, his desperate survival instinct suffocated out of him. Draw enough blood from a man, and he might use his last breath to swing a blade in your direction, even as he departs from this world, but things are different when a person can’t breathe. Even the desire to fight back is drained from their body, a sort of invasive drowsiness, like a sudden invitation to sleep that cannot be ignored.

ACCEPT. POWER.

FADING. FAST.

A strange sort of adrenaline settled over Jason. Not quite a burst of energy, more like the last sparks flying out of a dying fire. For a moment, his fading consciousness didn’t bother him, and the voice didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. This second wind wouldn’t last, he knew, and he couldn't let it go to waste. Baker moved to wrap his legs around him, and Jason jerked his body to the side, twisting the monster's foot inward and creating just enough of an opening to slip his head mildly out of the grip.

TURN! Jason shouted inside his head, as if he were a coach commanding his own body to listen.

Jason threw his body sideways, bringing the monster currently gripping at his head along with him. The move surprised Baker, causing it to loosen its grip, and allowing Jason to thrust his arm and free himself from the hands around his neck. Fucking finally, I can breathe again. From that position, Jason tried to put Baker on the same hold he'd fallen victim to a moment before, but the creature turned around and kicked him in the ribs. Son of a fucking – why do you have to keep hitting the same goddamn ribs?

The two stumbled away from each other to relative safety. Jason grit his teeth and scrambled for the sword nearest to him, less upset about the pain and more about the opportunity he’d just wasted. By the time he'd managed to retrieve his weapon and take a fighting stance, the monster had already picked up a sword himself, staring at him with a dispassionate gaze.

“You can't out-grapple me any more than you can out-fence me,” Baker said, beginning his footwork once more. “But it was a decent attempt, nonetheless.”

ACCEPT. POWER. NOW!

TOO.

STRONG!

CAN’T.

WIN.

Images flashed through his mind. Jeanette, Rob, Danse – everyone around the world who needed him to win. If he lost, if he fell here...countless others would die. The world wouldn't end, but it'd have to deal with Baker roaming the planet and wreaking havoc, less a monster and more a natural disaster. Is this it? Am I...am I this weak?

Jason furiously shook his head and advanced forward, bringing his sword downward in a vertical slash. “FUCKING DIE ALREADY!” he shouted.

Baker met the attack with his own sword, bending his knees and elbows to brace against the impact. For a split-second, they were locked in a contest of strength. Had they pressed onwards from there, Baker would have won without issue. But as steel bounced off steel and both men stepped forward, standing too close to properly swing their gargantuan blades, they quickly realized that their clash would come down to a contest of technique. Jason needed to find a way to get around Baker's guard from above, and Baker, kneeling below, needed to find the space to swing his sword without exposing his upper body to Jason’s counterattack.

And here, in a contest of pure technique, the only exchange that Jason felt he had a chance in...

...He lost.

Baker exposed his head as he took a half-step backward. Jason saw the motion and tried to punish it, but his swing was just a hair slower than Baker's. The realization that followed almost hurt more than the attack itself – that, despite reading the situation correctly, his body simply couldn't keep up.

'Almost' being the key word, because as he stumbled backward, the pain on his side rapidly became unbearable. “My—my fucking—ribs,” Jason cursed. They were cracked at least, but were they broken? If so, then moving even a little bit could result in him stabbing his own lungs. Bone fragments in the wrong places would kill just as easily as a sword to the chest. Jason forcibly brushed his concerns aside; there was no point in considering the possibility. If he stopped fighting, he would die anyway.

Jason adjusted his stance carefully, holding his sword in a defensive hanging guard, pointing the tip of the blunt blade diagonally and towards the ground. He was barely holding it over his head, deflecting the worst of his enemy’s blows, but the vibration from their clash was enough to send tremors of pain jolting through his bones. A sort of nervous desperation started to touch him, a rising concern that he would soon face defeat – and he banished the emotion. Focus, he told himself.

That, at least, was easy. No one could focus better than he could. Jason set his mind on the present, on his very next move. Always on the next move. At times like this, he needed to take things step by step, sparing at most one or two thoughts for the immediate future. His blade deflected move after move, low and high, taking one step backward with each exchange. Try as he might, Baker was unable to close the gap between them, and after five awkward blocks, the back of Jason’s foot found some uneven ground, giving him the opportunity to hop over it and gain some distance. Baker took half a step forward, as if intending on giving chase, before hesitantly halting. It was one thing to retreat with a short jump, and another to advance with one. A person can't change directions in mid-air, and even if he was the more skilled duelist, jumping forward recklessly would open him up to a counterattack.

The monster held back, allowing Jason to find some measure of safety between them. Jason didn't dare think of this as a victory; the fact that Baker wasn't chasing after him meant only one thing. That he was winning, easily, and didn’t need to take risks.

Jason’s injuries attested to that.

“Give up,” Baker told him. “This is as far as you can go. No amount of clever strategies will change reality. It’s not just that my level is higher; it’s that I am the version of you that is as strong as you can imagine yourself being.” He dashed forward and brought his sword against Jason. Giant blade met giant blade, and Jason fell backwards, chest screaming in pain, as he stabbed the unsteady ground to remain upright. “Accept your fate, human.”

Baker didn't even give Jason the chance to pull his sword out of the ground. He ran up and slammed the blunt side of his sword against Jason's torso, causing the human to collapse to the ground, gasping like a fish out of water. “You can’t do it,” Baker muttered, sounding vaguely forlorn. “You’re abnormally talented, so it may have taken you a long time to realize this...but we all have limits, Jason. Things we can’t ever do. It’s just the natural order of things.”

Limits.

A dreaded word that scared him more than death itself.

Was this it? Had he finally hit a wall? Baker was just...better than him. An encapsulation of the image of perfection in Jason’s mind – everything he wanted to be. The creature's moves were sharper, his confidence was unshakable, and his speed was just a fraction faster. Baker was capable of feats that Jason couldn't picture himself achieving, at least not during the course of this fight.

Limits.

Jason felt an invisible, nonexistent chain wrap itself around his body. He thought of how Baker had managed to escape a fight against tanks. How many people would die until they finally managed to land a lucky shot against the slippery bastard? Someone with resistance to gunfire, incredible durability, and this much ability to maneuver around would be nearly impossible to take down with conventional weaponry...without major losses, anyhow.

How many people would perish simply because he'd failed to win this one fucking fight?

Limits. BREAK THEM.

Another set of chains wrapped itself around him. He thought of Jeanette, Rob’s parents, everyone he knew. How they'd implicitly believed that he would make things better. That he would somehow pull through, just like he always did. As if this was just another game of football, and Jason was heading off to deliver a beatdown to the reigning, undefeated champions like it was no big deal.

Limits. SAY THE WORD.

Heavier and heavier, those chains. Danse and his unit were on Jason's mind now. How long would they survive without him? They were going to fight to their last breath, he knew, but the only reason they'd kept their casualties low so far was because of Jason. Jeff just had a child, he should be with his family, not fighting—shit. So many of them would die.

Limits. ACCEPT POWER.

The chains that haunted his nightmares, the ones he saw every time he closed his eyes, were the last to show in his mind. If Rob hadn’t saved him months ago, those chains would've taken him to god knows where. Goddamn it, Jason thought, realizing that he wasn’t ever going to find out what actually happened back then. Rob would be disappointed if he knew about this...but Jason had done everything he could. He'd fought valiantly. Properly. Followed orders, worked hard...

...And for what? Just to get betrayed by the people he'd risked his life for, then get killed by some fucker who stole his face? What a joke of a life.

GIVE IN. It sang to him, the enticing siren of power. ONE WORD.

Baker stepped towards him, sword raised. “Thank you for the freedom,” the monster told him, “and the face.”

It’s fine, isn’t it? Jason thought, reaching for his wrist. For the bracelet. I...I really tried to do things the right way. It’s not my fault things turned out like this. The bracelet called to him, inviting him, burning him. His very heart cried for it, every heartbeat appearing to draw the bracelet closer. Jason was stuck, oscillating between what he wanted to do, and what he knew that he should do.

Every chain pulled at him at once, until he felt like he was suffocating once more. “It came down to this, eh?” Jason muttered. Baker laughed loudly. “Fine. Do it already, then let’s finish this.”

NOW! GIVE IN!

Jason’s hand fell on his bracelet.

--

“It would be different from what you’re thinking, though,” Rob said, in a casual tone. Keira eyed him suspiciously, causing him to add, “What?”

“You're speaking in contradictions,” she replied. “Every problematic scenario involving Jason ends with you saying how things 'would be fine' – usually without so much as a second thought. Normally I would attribute that to simple bias, but it doesn't feel like that's the case here. So...why?” She seemed sincerely perplexed.

It's hard to explain unless you've spent time with him. “Jason,” Rob began in a careful tone, trying to phrase it as best as he could, “is a good man. He has a bunch of interests, but he refrains from pursuing them for the sake of helping others. I don’t think I could do that.”

Keira raised an eyebrow, but Rob went on as if he didn’t notice. “He isn’t happy, you know? Always trying to do the right thing, being the guy everyone can rely on. It’s...tough on him. I can tell. But he keeps doing it anyway. That’s why he always wants to be stronger – so he can live up to everyone’s expectations.”

“More contradictions,” Keira muttered. “How does that lead to everything turning out 'fine' if he'd come here?”

Rob drew a deep breath. The thought of Jason going through the same ordeals he had chilled him to the bone. Not because he thought Jason would lose, but because of how Rob knew he would lose years of his life just watching him. “You have to understand," he explained. "Deep inside, Jason is the wildest, most selfish, arrogant, self-centered, stubborn bastard I have ever met. He wants to be a good guy, and he works really hard at it. But when it comes down to it, he’s a maniac obsessed with self-satisfaction...and god bless him for it.”

Keira watched him silently for a moment. “I’m sorry, you’re talking about your best friend? The man you supposedly value the most in this world? That doesn’t sound like a kind way to describe him.”

“Yeah, that’s who I’m talking about,” he said, in a nostalgic tone, smiling as he shifted his gaze to the fireplace. "And I miss the hell out of him." Jason was the first person he'd ever felt like he could be brutally honest with. The first person he'd never been afraid would distance himself if Rob said the wrong thing – and who, if anything, enjoyed the banter. Rob did too, if he was being honest. There were others, now, but Jason was the one who let him realize that kind of friendship was even possible.

“And thing is," Rob continued, "even though he wants to be a perfect, selfless guy, he isn’t. If he was, I would be more worried about him. Maybe he would die trying to save a group of people, or – well, yes, maybe he would go crazy like...a Human.” Just the thought made him shudder. “But it’s not his virtues that make me relaxed. It’s his flaws.”

“What do you mean?” Keira asked, leaning forward in interest. “How can his flaws protect him from losing his mind?”

Rob laughed. “Because I’ve known Jason since we were kids.”

“And?”

“And he’s always been insane,” Rob said with a shrug. “He would rather die his own way than win by doing what someone else told him to.”

--

“Ah, fuck it,” Jason shouted. He put a hand to his bracelet – and then ripped it off, tossing it as far away as he could.

The world seemed to hold still. Baker followed the object with his eyes, his mouth hanging open, but Jason paid him no mind. The burning sensation on his wrist was gone, his mind felt clearer than it had been in days, and the invisible chains around him had shattered. “Ah, this is so much better!” Jason said, rising to his feet and stretching both hands over his head. His ribs still hurt – if anything, they hurt more – but the air felt nicer against his face, and all hesitation was gone from his body.

He had tried to do things the right way. He had tried to be responsible and save everyone.

And he was done trying.

WHAT.

“Have you lost your mind even without Leveling High?” Baker asked, his voice full of a sort of confused outrage. He gestured wildly in the direction Jason had thrown his bracelet. “You couldn’t beat me while you were using the bracelet’s powers. What do you hope to accomplish without-”

CREATION. KILL. Jason knew the voice was talking about Baker. He didn’t care. ACCEPT. POWER. NOW.

“Shut up, both of you!” Jason thundered. To his surprise, they listened. Perhaps they were interested in what his explanation was going to be. Ah...an invisible voice in my head, and a monster with my face in front of me, both hanging on to every word I say...this is fun. He burst out laughing, loud and hard enough that his ribs started to hurt. “I’m done doing things people tell me to. I’m done playing along and being responsible.”

His coach’s voice rang in his head. ‘Guess you have always been the type to worry too much about what people think. Sometimes, Jason, you just have to cut loose.’

Rob’s voice, when they were kids. ‘Maybe I do have to loosen up, Jay. But you do too. In a different way.’

Rob’s voice again. ‘You should try being more selfish once in a while.’

His coach’s voice, one more time. ‘That’s fine. Be greedy. Be obstinate. Most of all, be whatever you want.’

“If you are the limits of my imagination”—Jason reached for his sword and pulled it out of the ground—“if you are the strongest version of me my mind can conjure up”—Jason stumbled forward—“then I’m going to go beyond what I can imagine.” He swung his sword at the monster. Without the bracelet, it was heavier, slower than before. Jason didn’t mind. His sword may have been heavy, but his heart was light, bursting with a sense of airy freedom that he'd sorely missed. Baker stepped backward in a panic, as if scared of him.

The sight brought a wide grin to Jason's face.

STOP. POW—

Jason’s laughter erupted once more, muffling the voice inside his head. “If I’m going to die anyway – I want to die my way. Fuck it. Turns out that I'm a greedy person. This is what I want. I’m not going to lose my mind or this match to this fake piece of shit. I’m going to win and protect everyone – but I’m going to do it my way.”

His unhinged laughter grew louder, echoing across the empty streets, and he could swear he heard a note of hesitation from the voice in his head. “If people need protecting, I’ll protect them while still doing all the dumb shit I want to keep myself entertained. If the military wants to cut me open, I’m just going to become so famous as a hero that they can’t get rid of me. If some monster steals my face, I’ll break it until it doesn’t look like me anymore. If some shitty voice or god or whatever the fuck you are wants to play a game with me, I’ll make him regret picking me as an opponent.”

It all felt so simple.

Ah, Jason thought, truly content. He never should have tried to be who he wasn’t. People were counting on him? Well, that was their problem. It was their fault for placing their faith on him. He was going to do this his way. More likely to die, less likely to succeed – whatever. This way, he would feel at peace.

I have to visualize, he thought, grinning, a version of me that surpasses my imagination. It sent a jolt of exhilaration down his spine. Every competitive bone in his body trembled in excitement at the concept.

Every concern he had before was gone, having vanished like smoke in the wind. This was how it should be. Why worry so much about the details? In the end, it was just a game. Jason won games. It all just came down to doing the impossible – and there was nothing Jason found more fun than redefining that word.

“Madman,” Baker barked at him. “You took off the bracelet. You didn't accept their power. And what did your valor give you? Nothing more than weakness. I'll crush your bones with a single strike.”

ACCE—

Jason laughed louder again, getting amusement out of both Baker’s hesitant tone and the fact that he could overpower the voices with his laughter. “Oh, maybe you will.”

“What do you have planned, human?” Baker hissed at him, his composure starting to crumble. “The fight is done! You have nothing. Removing the bracelet doesn’t help you at all.”

POW—

More laughter. Oh, now this was the right stuff. Not any of that crazy power shit. Just him, someone who underestimated him, and complete freedom to do whatever the hell he wanted. “I don’t have anything,” Jason admitted. “No new powers. You're still stronger, faster, and more skilled with the sword than me."

He grinned. "So...tell me, Baker...” Jason stepped forward. “Weird monster that you are, you just started experiencing these human emotions for the first time after eating my fears, right?” He took another step forward. Baker fell backward and readied his sword. The monster was sweating now, and his hands were trembling slightly. “It must be really difficult for you. So many emotions you've never experienced before. So many changes are happening to your body and mind. Weird time in a young man’s life, eh? Gotta warn you though, not many people come out of puberty looking as handsome as I did.”

“Stop talking,” Baker muttered, “stop trying to pretend that you'll choose your own fate. None of us can. In the end, you're still going to accept their power. Surely,” he added at the end, as if trying to convince himself.

“Anger, arrogance...you learned a lot from me.” Jason rested his sword over his left shoulder before stepping forward. It wasn't remotely a proper fighting stance, leaving him wide open for any sort of attack. “So how about I teach you one more?”

“Human, stop pretending to-”

“Let me show you fear.”

Jason leaped forward.