I kicked my cage's door, deepening the dent already in it. I could hear the hinges groan and I felt a swell of satisfaction. Not only had my strength returned quickly, fueled by my untouchable stores of energy, but my Power too was regenerating. From the very moment I had stopped holding it back, it knew the way forward.

Hickory was the man to kill me. Back at the gas station and now again. He was the symbol my Power chose for the design of consciousness that knew no limitations. He was the end to my last contradiction, in wanting Power but thinking I was above those who owned this world. My resentment was dead now.

His design had been implemented, and everything settled into place. Not Hickory or Walter, but Creep was in charge. All the things which lead me to make the mistakes that had caused my imprisonment were fully let go. My vengefulness; my resentment; my permanently slighted mindset. Gone. There was just me now, the Creeping and inevitable way of growth. I took pride in what I could become and I thought nothing of petty moralizing.

It was a strange feeling, to care so little and so much. As I laid out another kick, sending the cell door flying off into the hallway, I smiled. My sense of rightness was far more intense than it had ever been before. The edicts I followed came from within me now, not beyond me.

There was no malevolence left in my will. despite the fact that I was now far more what people called 'evil', I had no desire to do harm. Only to see the world put to order. To see myself turned more glorious.

Out in the black hallway, I had two choices. I could go towards the cafeteria and try to sneak my way out of this place, or I could turn towards a dead end. The latter hardly seemed like an option, given that I doubted I could burrow through steel walls, even with all my strength. And it seemed unlikely I could stay hidden. I had tried that way before. But there was a third option.

Something which I lacked no abundance of was a mischievous sense. I had the inclination to flirt with disaster today, and no more reason to deny myself. "What could go wrong?"

Mistakes, after all, were what gave birth to me. If I had simply made it to the jungle, across the border wall, I might have gone on for years without realizing what life really asked of me. Mediocrity hobbled on in safety, I learned.

Instead, I was forced to overcome adversity. Forced to open my mind to Hickory's complete focus on gaining pride, at the expense of those parts of me which crippled the whole. It wasn't all elation, of course. Part of me was genuinely filled with sadness. The alienation I felt to my past was tinged with despair. Whatever remained of my older self knew a meaningless existence, relegated to the dustbin of history.

"You served your purpose." After a moment, I went forward down the hall with a burgeoning smile as I turned right into the massive chamber. Before me, the cage of the slumbering Kizmet waited. "Yes. Now this will do nicely," I said. "After all, today's like my birthday, right?"

There needed to be cake and fireworks. Though I couldn't supply the cake, I could supply the fireworks, I thought. And they would rival the Fourth of July.

There was a giant crank at one end of the vault and it attached to heavy bolts. Those bolts then slid in to hold the lid down, apparently. All I needed to do was turn the crank. They hadn't bothered putting a lock on it. They expected me to be out for the next few days while they gathered a kill squad to finish me.

I could only hope that the Conquistador hadn't drained my friend too much. He would need his strength once I freed him. It was a stretch, even for this form, but the wheel did begin to turn as I struggled against it. The enormous rivets of steel retracted from the sides of the circular lid that kept the Kizmet locked in.

There was no voice to stop me. No split personality or worried conscience. Whether I lived or died, my choices were no more or less than the best I could do. According to a singular and unified will, there was no room for doubt. Whether my choices were optimum remained to be seen. If they were not, well... I'd learn or die.

"Fine by me," I huffed. The final lock hit the end of its retraction with a deep thud.

I heard a stirring in the deep. The castle floor shook as something moved around down there.

Just in time, I stepped back away from the lid of the cage. It exploded upwards, hitting the ceiling and then falling back down in a tremendous crash.

Where it fell, it covered half the pit. I could not see down into the rest of the pit, it was just too deep for that. But at least now I knew for certain. The Kizmet was alive and moving.

I got butterflies in my stomach thinking about it. I'd seen the videos online. Judging by the size of this lid, the creature was easily a Class Two or One. That meant it could devastate a city on its own, as I remembered. That much Power was something I definitely had to see for myself.

Yet, as soon as the shockwave of so many hundreds of tonnes of steel settled, the siren began to blare through the palace. Defense mechanisms then kicked into gear, and I could feel my body slow down as it had the last time. Everyone else was moving at super-speed by comparison. Naturally, it wouldn't take the calvary long to arrive.

Putting the pit to my back, I faced the long hallway and waited.

Light poured in from the very end as the doors flew open. A crowd strode in from where the cafeteria would have been. All of the cage doors for the other prisoners opened next to let them escape, and those that could run did. The area was no longer safe.

I could see a recognizable figure as I squinted through the light. He and more than a dozen people at his back, walking with angry purpose. So many Supers, ready for a fight, with their confident leader in front.

"Good news!" I shouted. "I've decided to join your cult!" There were to be no more bones about it. Maximal was right from the beginning. With great Power came a great responsibility to use it for oneself. Therefore, any Power which could not be threatened into submission needed to be destroyed. If only he could see me now. "Bad news!" I laughed, beating my chest. "I've decided to challenge you for your crown. I'm ready to fight for what I deserve."

Behind me, a rush of wind escaped from the pit and stirred dust across the entire space. It was warm and wet and it came from down below. We both knew what that was. The Kizmet was closer to the surface now, and its breath reached us.

"Are you really invoking the right to challenge?" I could hear the Conquistador from down the way, shaking his head. He stopped for a second and looked to his guards on either side. He spoke to them, and I picked up his words with my enhanced senses. "Please, kill this nuisance. Just be careful."

"Well, shit," I said. "It was worth a try." People online liked to make up stories about how the King's were honor-bound and followed a code. Six Ring acolytes loved that shit. But I doubted it applied to anyone other than Nemesis, in Africa. He was known for big bombastic tournaments.

As the two men approached, I stretched out my limbs. The slowing effect of the palace defenses had only barely managed to bring me down to a normal speed. But my Power was rearing to go.

These were just two men in regular street clothes. My guess? They were the reserve fighters that had been gathered for their specific combination of Powers. Not elite fighters, but no joke either. Alejandro wouldn't send just any two mooks to kill me. He knew what I was capable of and he formulated a plan to counter it.

As they approached, my arms hung at my sides, undergoing mutation. Bones cracked and shifted out of the way to make room for a complicated mechanism. It was just the trick I needed.

Suddenly, one of the men fell behind for protection and put his hands on the other's back. They both took on an increased heat signature, as a Power was evidently about to flare.

My hands shot out and my palms opened, putting my trick into motion. Out of their center, flesh slid apart and a spike made of bone loaded forward just before being unleashed at rapid speed. As soon as it left my body, I saw, the slowing effect was canceled.

Though it moved at deadly speed, the delay was just enough time both of them to dodge. The projectiles sailed away down the hall, one embedding in the rock beside its opening.

"My turn," the frontman gloated.

A surge of energy began in his body, starting at his hands. The wave of heat was redirected, however, slipping up the arms until it came in contact with the man at the back, as if attracted by some invisible force. The second man there was taller, with shadows beneath his eyes. Only, those shadows faded away as his pupils slowly turned to pure white light.

Whatever the frontman had done, he had projected it for him, I could feel. A brief wave of energy moved from them, before stopping dead at my chest. All over my body then, tingles started to radiate.

Begining at my navel, a sharp pain spread outward. The hard shell there was turning instantly to a black tarry substance. It was spreading fast, eating away and turning my biology to mush.

I fired out two more spikes, but it was only a distraction. This Power might have been perfect; a brilliant solution to my versatility, spreading through every one of my cells no matter what I did until all was lost. But I sure as hell wouldn't be waiting around to let that happen.

As the frontman was looking pleased that they had dodged my spikes yet again, he heard a shrieking come from behind him. In the time it took him to turn around, there was already nothing he could do.

An insectoid creature had ripped a hole through the torso of his friend, assembled from the biological material of my missed spikes. As I was hoping, he was the weaker of the two, standing back for protection.

There were four of the mutated spikes, the frontman quickly realized. They skittered imperceptibly along the unlit ground. While his skin was tough, his offensive abilities were located in his hands and, as the spiders jumped him, he could only do so much.

Meanwhile, I lunged forward before the rot he had infected me with could finish its bisection, growing out from the middle. It hadn't yet reached my spine, so I could still move. I could still finish him.

Rearing my right arm back, the tip rapidly reformed into a spear. I ran him through without much resistance. He had been distracted by the bugs clawing at his eyes. Too distracted to react to a move that took less than a second. Bringing his head to rest on my shoulder, I let the bugs tear in to be sure he was dead.

As the life drained out of him, the rotting stopped taking over my flesh. After I had expelled the ruined material and closed the gap, I finally pushed the dead body aside. I was merely thirty pounds lighter, while the enemy was down two men.

Both of them lay in a heap of blood and ichor on the floor. My voice was low at first, almost revelatory. The adaption had worked. "I did it..." Then, I cried out. "I killed them, Conquistador! You can come and see if you want! They're dead..."

Adrenaline coursed through my veins. It was almost too much to process, and my mind responded with manic glee. For a moment, my sense of horror returned at what I had become. But only for a moment.

After hanging his head for a moment, the King motioned to his throng of men to follow him. He would have to do this the hard way, and I would have my chance.

"We were a few men short," he called, exasperated and obviously tired. "I had planned to include a healer and another utility Super for good measure, but they must have slept through the siren. When I find those sons of whores, well... I suppose that's my business, not yours. Good job."

I tried to shoot out a spike and impale the Conquistador, but it was only to confirm a suspicion. There was a forcefield protecting him, which easily deflected the spikes. "Why not project your own Power?" I asked, trying out different designs in my head as I stalled for time.

"His Power only worked one-way. Mine, as you well know, is two-way."

"So what's next? Fire, electricity, ice, acid, knives, fists, or what? How many more men are you prepared to lose?!" The smile on my face only grew larger as I played my next move. The sense of loss was gone now. Right here, facing my death, I was home.

The Conquistador was curt as he replied, taking off his satin night-shirt to reveal his chiseled body. "None. As you wanted, I'll finish you myself. There's been enough death tonight. We both must do as we will, now."

"I'm just getting started," I said. At last, I had a vision for myself that wasn't naive and doomed for conflict. Now, I had a vision that embraced the conflict itself. "It's time for all of you people to get it through your heads. You get what you give."

One of his men threw the King a sword, and I clapped with satisfaction at the sight. He held an old Spaniard's blade that glinted with distant light. Unlike the other men, his heat profile was completely absent, even as I knew that he swelled with Power. Certainly, he wasn't dead. He was being granted strength, a shield, and healing, just to start, each at a Class Three level or better. His shield enclosed all heat and made him practically untouchable. Only light could move through.

I expected nothing less from a King.

The screech of metal sounded again. The monster in the pit was just beginning to climb out, I saw. The slowing effect hit it worse than any of us, but it could only delay the inexorable.

The first piece of its body came up, and my eyes widened. Its clawed fingers curled up to dig into the stone around the entrance, so it could pull forward. The width of its hand filled the entire opening and shook the foundations of the building. Cracks lanced through the ground tiles as they started to deform upward, very gradually.

This thing was bigger than the palace itself, I realized.

The King absently looked at his sword as he readied to fight. He explained with pride. "She is what makes all of this possible. My Crystal must feed a million mouths. No small contingent of slaves would ever have sufficed. My Empire begins and ends with her, Walter. When you are spent, you will be fed to her. When we catch a smaller Kizmet, they are fed to her. All of my enemies? Fuel on the fire. All of it, so that the Crystal may flow."

"My name is Creep," I told him. "And you really imprisoned a Zed Class Kizmet? That's... spectacular."

"No more words." The Conquistador readied in his stance. One of his men projected balls of fire into the air around us, giving light. "You get what you want, Creep... I accept your challenge for the throne."

And so it began.