Deon’s worry increased—Pang was still motionless.

You really screwed up now, he told himself.

Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching. Deon looked forward to see Phillip walking over to them. The dark-haired, colorless teenager’s frown was slightly more defined than usual.

Great, here we go again, Deon thought. He started to shift into a fighting stance.

Phillip waved a hand of dismissal. “It’s over,” he said plainly.

Deon paused before easing up, and waited uncomfortably for Phillip to reach him and Pang. When he did, Phillip stood at the other end of Pang silently, studying his fallen teammate from behind the hair that masked his eyes. Deon stayed still, feeling incredibly awkward.

“Do you think she’s gonna—” Deon started.

“You went too far,” Phillip said, now looking at Deon. His voice sounded stern and sharp, not distant like normal.

A flicker of defensiveness rose in Deon. “Well, your teammate wasn’t being all that respectable, to say the least,” he retorted.

“That’s not what I mean,” Phillip denied. “I saw your finishing technique. You may not have noticed, but Pang lost consciousness twenty-six blows before you stopped attacking her. So you were hitting a defenseless opponent, which is not only against the rules: it’s dishonorable. And you may have severely injured Pang.”

Deon didn’t have a response. Somehow, he hadn’t even realized Pang lost consciousness during his rapid attacks. And at the time, frighteningly, he didn’t even care. In his rage-induced dream state, his only concern had been to make her feel helpless.

Phillip abruptly turned and hurried towards Pang and Skrili’s bags, which rested on the ground at the other end of the clearing. He opened Pang’s bag and immediately snatched something out of it, then made his way back over to her, bumping Deon out of his way.

As Phillip lifted the item to his face, Deon realized it was Pang’s TeamTrack. It had the same black screen and rectangular shape as Skrili’s, but inside a pink case.

Phillip hastily pressed the screen several times, and then held it above Pang. To Deon’s surprise, a direct green light shone from the TeamTrack and onto Pang. A soft high-pitched buzz resounded from the device as Phillip moved it slowly above her. He continued the same rotation countless times, aiming the light at various parts of her body.

After a while, Deon noticed the cuts on Pang’s skin beginning to reverse themselves. Soon, most of them had totally healed, or left behind only minor scabs.

Deon looked on, amazed, until Phillip pressed the screen again and the light vanished. Now most of Pang’s injuries appeared healed, aside from the forming bruise under her eye, which had only faded slightly. She was also breathing slowly and deeply now, seeming merely asleep.

Phillip leaned down close to her, lightly touching her face and then grasping her hand. “She’ll be okay,” he announced without looking at Deon.

“That thing…healed her?” Deon asked.

“Mostly,” uttered Phillip. “It can undo most minor wounds, but it’s only able to stabilize major injuries to a certain point. And it loses effectiveness the longer you wait.” He checked the TeamTrack briefly. “It managed to heal her head to just a bad concussion. You’re lucky I was here.”

Relief swept through Deon, but he still felt no sense of victory. He was glad he was able to take her down after everything she did, but he was even more ashamed of the rage it took to accomplish it. He had won not as his true self, but as someone tainted by his sudden leap in power.

Whatever that was, I need to learn how to control it…Deon thought.

“You should probably tend to your own teammate,” mumbled Phillip.

“Oh—right.”

Deon turned and walked over to where Skrili lay. She seemed to be okay, lying calmly on her stomach and breathing steadily. He realized her Power Rebound earlier must have been pretty major, for her to still be this wiped out.

Deciding he should let her rest, he stepped past Skrili and made his way over to her and Pang’s bags. The pile of Skrili’s things rested beside her empty blue bag. Deon kneeled down to start putting her things away, attempting to fold her clothes and place everything in some sort of neat, orderly fashion. It felt rather intrusive packing a girl’s belongings, but he figured he might as well do something helpful.

Finally, he had made it to the last item: Skrili’s TeamTrack. Meanwhile, Phillip had walked over to claim Pang’s bag and took notice of the object.

“Take it,” Phillip instructed.

“Isn’t this the whole reason you guys had Skrili’s bag?” Deon questioned.

“Yes.”

“You’re just gonna let me take it, like that?”

Phillip’s frown tightened. “You defeated us for it, didn’t you?”

Deon certainly wasn’t about to refuse; this meant Skrili could continue her career as a pro consciousness. And that meant when she found out Deon won it back for her, she might consider him a worthy new teammate. After all the time he’d spent with her in this new world, and after all the fights they’d been in, he wouldn’t choose to team up with anyone else.

But why was Phillip so willing to give up? Why was he letting him just take the TeamTrack?

“Doesn’t this mean you and Pang will have to start all over with a blank record?” Deon asked.

“Yes,” said Phillip plainly. “I’m not doing this for you. I’ve been stealing Skrili’s identity ever since I joined Pang, so we could get certified sooner. Most of the wins on their record are from when Skrili was fighting with Pang. I didn’t earn any of that. It’s not right. So take it; it’s the least I can do for stealing what Skrili deserved.”

Huh…this guy sure cares about being fair… Deon thought. How did he end up with Pang? “Thanks…I guess,” he said. He let out a small chuckle. “You know, now this means you guys are just as far off from getting certified as us, huh?”

“Technically, Pang and Skrili are currently certified,” said Phillip plainly.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

“Pang and I surpassed one hundred wins under her and Skrili’s team yesterday,” explained Phillip. “We were just about to sign up for a Conscious Competition until we crossed paths with you.”

Deon was dumbstruck. Skrili said they had around eighty wins before they split. That means Pang and Phillip won the other twenty wins that fast??

Phillip was clearly uninterested in any further discussion, as he tossed Pang’s bag over his shoulder and began to walk over to his teammate. “Now both teams can start all over, like it’s meant to be,” he concluded.

Deon took the TeamTrack in his hand and looked at it for a moment.

So here it is…we did it! Next move: sign up as a team and win a ton of fights, he planned excitedly. Before we know it, we’ll be certified and get to fight in those tournaments! He placed the TeamTrack in Skrili’s bag, strapped the bag over his own backpack, and stood.

A single drop of rain speckled onto his face.

Phillip now stood carrying Pang carefully. The undersized girl seemed even smaller now, slumped in her particularly tall friend’s arms. Deon felt his guilt worsen. It was like he was looking at a different person altogether—a victim of his lack of self-control.

Phillip noticed Deon watching Pang. “This is the first time she’s ever lost a fight,” he told Deon. “I’m unsure how she’ll react to it.”

Deon hadn’t expected Phillip to say anything. “Y—yeah,” he answered. He considered apologizing, but thoughts of how Pang made Skrili cry flashed in his head. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Where are you headed now?” he decided to ask.

“It depends. I would prefer to find a hospital in the nearest Country so Pang can recuperate,” Phillip shared. “But if she wakes up first, she’ll probably want to continue our travels as soon as possible.”

“Hmm,” Deon responded. A few more raindrops fell on and around him. It began to drizzle consistently.

Phillip had turned to walk away.

“Wait a second,” Deon called quickly.

He wordlessly turned back.

“You seem like a pretty decent guy,” he told Phillip. “Why do you tag along with someone like Pang?”

Phillip stared at him for a moment. “Don’t assume you know someone based on a few encounters with them,” was all he said. Then he turned back around and walked off, into the woods.

Deon watched Phillip leave, confused by his ambiguous statement. The rain picked up a bit more.

I’d better find a dry spot for us, Deon decided. He walked back over to Skrili.

The shredded pieces of Skrili’s picture lay all around her. Deon shook his head. He couldn’t believe someone would do that—even Pang. All Skrili wanted was this simple memory, and now it was destroyed. He knelt down and picked up all the pieces he could find, tucking them under his tunic into his pants pocket.

Next he turned to Skrili. As gently as possible, he rolled her onto her back and into his arms, half expecting her to jolt awake and punch him in the face. Luckily for him, she slept through it as he rose to his feet with her.

Deon remained there obliviously for a moment, gazing at Skrili as he cradled her. Then the rain picked up to a steady, wet downpour, jolting him back to the world.

He shook off the blush that had somehow grown on his face and hurried out of the clearing. But all the trees here were spread out and thin-leaved, so the rain continued to soak him and Skrili. Deon kept hurrying, hoping to find a denser section of the woods. But a few more minutes of walking passed, and the rain persisted.

“Wait a second—duh,” Deon said to himself. He stopped for a moment beside a tree, and imagined the hood of a wide umbrella above him and Skrili. At last, the water ceased falling on them.

Deon glanced at Skrili, who continued to rest soundly in his arms. I should have thought that up sooner…A little distracted now, are we? he teased himself.

Figuring the rain would only continue, Deon decided to stay put and wait it out. He imagined a mattress to put Skrili on, but since he had never imagined one before, it came out more like a large, mattress-shaped pillow.

Meh, it works, Deon shrugged. He laid Skrili on the soft surface and then imagined a blanket on top of her.

After this, he plopped onto the ground beside the mattress-pillow hybrid and leaned against the thin tree. The forest of No Man’s Land was filled with the airy scent of wet plants and constant whispers of the rain falling onto the leaves.

I should make sure I stay relatively focused on the mattress and umbrella, Deon planned. If I’m not paying attention, they’ll disappear. And so he began to stare intently. Deon rotated between watching the umbrella and the mattress, making a mental note to master these creations so it wouldn’t be an issue in the future.

He laughed to himself, remembering how long it took to master his imagined clothes so they wouldn’t disappear off of him. And that time Savannah…

Oh wait—Focus!

The rather monotonous staring session continued for what seemed like forever. The woods gradually grew dark around him as he kept his mind on the objects he imagined. Eventually Deon drifted off to sleep, dreaming about wide umbrellas and pillow-mattresses.

~

Deon awoke with a snort. It was bright out now and morning birds were tweeting in the trees all around. To his surprise, the umbrella and mattress were still there.

It’s a good thing I ended up dreaming about them, he remarked.

But something was wrong: Skrili wasn’t on the mattress anymore. Confused, Deon looked around. Her bag was gone, too. The only thing left from it was the TeamTrack, which had been placed beside Deon’s backpack.

She left? Deon wondered. He stood up. Skrili was nowhere in sight. She just left? We went through all that trouble together, and she ditches me right after? No ‘See ya around,’ or anything???

He turned around to see if she had gone the other way. Deon felt an immense sense of relief when he saw Skrili there—but her back was turned to him and she was walking away.

“Going somewhere?!” Deon called.

Skrili stopped abruptly, but she didn’t turn around. “Away,” she answered.

“Well thanks for the warning,” Deon snapped. “I usually like to know when someone decides to ditch me.”

“I’m sorry,” Skrili answered softly. “I have to go now. Thank you for helping me.” She began to walk again.

Deon couldn’t believe it. Though they never discussed what their plans would be if they ever got Skrili’s bag back, he’d assumed they wouldn’t part ways—at least not immediately. “But…like, I mean…” Deon stuttered.

Skrili stopped again. “Fantasy Country,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Go to Fantasy Country. It’s the closest Country to where we are right now. You’ll find plenty of consciousnesses who would love to start a team—especially with an Imaginer who can beat someone like Phillip and Pang,” Skrili explained.

“But…what about you?” Deon asked her. “What are you gonna do?”

Skrili was silent for several seconds. “I’ll live out here, by myself.”

“…That’s it???”

Skrili turned to look at him. Her face was in its default emotionless expression, but her eyes seemed slightly shiny. “I’ll be fine. There’s food out here,” she said.

“But…that sounds awfully boring…” commented Deon.

“Why do you care?” Skrili asked, her eyebrows furrowing faintly. “This doesn’t affect you. You can just go to Fantasy Country and easily find a teammate. What I do with my life shouldn’t make that any harder.”

“It does, though,” Deon said.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be my teammate,” he told her. “You’re tough as nails, and smart…and honestly, I just think you’re really cool. We’ve already fought together plenty of times; let’s just become a real team.”

Once again, Skrili went quiet for a while. “I never really wanted to do this professionally, and that won’t change,” she told him. “You’ll be better off with someone else, anyway. Find a new teammate—someone more like you, who won’t drag you around or correct you as much.”

The glistening in Skrili’s eyes was increasing.

“Find someone who can take the time to get to know you,” she continued, “who doesn’t mind talking with you…who can laugh with you and open up to you. I…” she paused. “…I can’t be that. That’s why I’m meant to be alone. Just go find someone else.”

“But—”

“Stop it!” Skrili exclaimed. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need me, and I don’t need you. Please go away.” She turned back around and continued walking.

“Wait,” Deon called.

Skrili kept walking.

Deon spoke anyway. “If it doesn’t matter, why are you trying so hard not to cry?!” he demanded. “Skrili, all you’re doing is becoming exactly who Pang said you would be! You want her to be right?!”

Skrili didn’t stop.

“Don’t believe her! You can do something for yourself! Get certified and win fights! Become a name every consciousness needs to know if they want to know what fighting really is!”

Still, Skrili continued walking. It finally came to Deon’s realization that she wasn’t going to stop. She had chosen her path, and she was set in it. Deon knew he probably wouldn’t see her again.

It aggravated him—this girl had so much to offer. Just being around her made him stronger in the few days they had known each other. But since her skills and resolve failed to get her what she longed for, she threw it all away. Skrili was beginning a life void of purpose, and all Deon could do now was accept her choice.

But he couldn’t.

“You know what?” he started. “Never mind the fighting. And never mind the teaming up. Heck, never mind me. Just, whatever you do, don’t do it alone, okay? If spending your life out here in the woods is what you want, then fine, but please—just make sure you let someone into your life. It doesn’t have to be me…I’m obnoxious, I get it…but let someone in. Because…” Deon paused, wondering if he might have already taken it too far. “Well, you should be happy and…I think that’s what your brother would want for you.”

Skrili tripped on something and fell over. She remained on the ground, sitting still. Deon could faintly hear her crying.

Unsure of what else to do, he walked over to her hesitantly and stood beside her as she sniffled softly. Skrili’s head hung down, so her hair blocked her face out of visibility.

After a short while, Deon sat down next to Skrili.

“Um…I’m really sorry about all that,” he said.

“You’re an idiot,” Skrili uttered shakily.

Deon nodded in full acceptance, in spite of himself. “Yeah, pretty much…”

“No,” Skrili began, suddenly standing up. She started to hurry back to where Deon had set up their camp. “You left all your stuff out in the open,” she said. “We can’t be a team until we get you registered, so we don’t have time to go hunting down stolen bags again.”

“Oh—sorry,” Deon said with a big smile as he rushed to stand and catch up to the pace of his new teammate.

~

Deon joined Skrili, who was sitting on the ground beside Deon’s bag with her TeamTrack in hand. By now, the mattress and umbrella had vanished out of existence.

“So how is this thingy supposed to work?” he asked. “I picked it up yesterday, but it didn’t do anything.”

“That’s because you have to turn it on,” said Skrili monotonously. She pressed in a button on the side of the device, and immediately, the screen began to glow with a white light.

“WHOA!” Deon exclaimed as he recoiled instinctively.

Skrili stared fixedly at the TeamTrack. “Calm down, that’s supposed to happen,” she assured. When several shapes appeared on the screen, she tapped them in a seemingly random order. Nothing happened, so she tried again. After several attempts, Deon noticed a slight blush on Skrili’s face.

“Is…that supposed to happen too, or?” he questioned.

“No…” Skrili uttered as a slight pout formed. “I…forgot my password,” she admitted in a low mumble. “I’m…sure it’ll come back to me…”

“So uh…what does that mean for us?” Deon wondered.

“Our next step is to get you registered as a pro fighter, so we’ll need to start travelling,” Skrili explained. “For now, we’ll have to use the plain map.”

She pressed the side button on the TeamTrack again, this time twice.

A blue light glowed from the screen, and then it extended beyond the device, into the air above them. As the light widened, it reshaped into a flat, multicolored image.

“This is a map of the Multiverse,” introduced Skrili as they gazed up at it. “Every TeamTrack has a basic map accessible in case of emergencies.”

Deon’s eyes widened.

There’s…this much more to existence?!

The map displayed a vast world. It was divided into countries, which all had incredibly specific names. On the east side existed Realistic Fiction Country, Fantasy Country, and Fiction Country. On the west: Normal Country, Science Fiction Country, and Horror Country. A vast space between these six areas took up much of the map, and was simply marked as No Man’s Land.

Deon observed the map in fascination, until something odd struck him: “Wait—what the heck? Tailpiece isn’t even marked on here!”

“What place?” asked Skrili.

“Tailpiece, where I’m from,” Deon told her. “That’s strange…if I ended up in No Man’s Land when I left, Tailpiece should be in the middle of the map somewhere.”

“Hmm. Well, we are zoomed out all the way,” Skrili pointed out. She slid two fingers across the screen, and the floating image of the map centered closer into No Man’s Land.

But even after they checked closely, Tailpiece was nowhere to be seen.

“We’ll look again on the better map, once I remember my password,” she decided.

Deon nodded. “Right. So, where to now, teammate?” He shot her a booming smile and gave a playful nudge.

Skrili pretended not to notice. “We’re roughly here,” she said, pointing towards the west end of No Man’s Land. “The closest country is Fantasy Country, and they have a registration center in the city past their middle border. It’ll be a few days’ journey.”

Deon tried to suppress his ever-increasing smile. It was happening: they were about to be a team. He was itching to see all that awaited them, and explore this massive Multiverse together.

“By the way, I wonder if Pang and Phillip are heading to the same place right now,” said Deon. “They have to start all over, too. I thought I was gonna have to beat Phillip a second time for your TeamTrack thing, but he just let me take it. Weird guy…”

“He let you take it?”

Deon smirked. “Oh, that’s right! I haven’t told you what happened while you were passed out!” he recalled. “Well?”

Skrili blushed. “‘Well,’ what?” she asked uneasily.

“Don’t you wanna know how I single-handedly beat Phillip and Pang, got your TeamTrack, and returned your bag to you?”

Skrili irately stared back at Deon, unable to conceal her curiosity. She knew he was very much enjoying her reaction. “…I don’t care,” Skrili told him.

Deon laughed. “Wow, that’s the thanks I get for winning the fight for us?”

“When you’re trying to force it out of me, yes,” Skrili mumbled.

“Really?” retorted Deon, still laughing. “I’m just saying, I know you were fainted, but you should have seen my fight with Pang. It was so intense. Honestly, I bet you’re pretty pumped to be in a team with me. You don’t express a lot, and that’s totally okay, but I know you’re just trying to hide how unbelievably excited you really are—”

WHAM!!!

Deon flopped over onto his back, knocked silly.

Skrili rubbed her fist and looked away. “Yeah, I’m ecstatic,” she said calmly. “Dimwit.”

~~~

In the Grasslands of Realistic Fiction Country…

“I find it rather ludicrous that this pitiful heap of rotten logs is the only vehicle permitted in this landscape,” complained a raspy, whispery voice.

“Cease your whining, Najinzu,” an oddly calm and relaxed voice responded. “Our only other options were the horses alone, and that wouldn’t be fit for carrying our hostages. And it would be unwise to utilize magic or technology foreign to this country—that would draw unwanted attention.”

“I’m aware, Fewpar, I’m aware,” Najinzu grumbled. “But that does not diminish the fact that this is a pitiful heap of rotten logs.”

Fewpar and Najinzu were steering an old wooden horse carriage through the vast and flat Grasslands. The duo sat in the front part of the carriage—the only part exposed to the outdoors. Behind them, the rest was concealed under a rounded roof of white fabric. Two large brown horses were pulling the covered carriage across the grass.

Fewpar, a tall, slender blonde man, watched the view with a content face. Aside from his slight bristles, he kept himself well dressed. He wore a black suit jacket over a button up and light blue tie, along with black pants and shoes. The only thing missing from the cliché getup was a top hat; he preferred to show off his well kept, fashionable pale blonde hair.

Najinzu, on the other hand, had been wearing the same exact black, ripped outfit for days. It was complete with his stealth boots and the signature black bandana that covered his face from his nose down. His messy and spiky jet-black hair matched the attire and hid his face, save one slim, annoyed eye.

“We’ve been staring at the same loathsome plain for hours on end,” spat Najinzu. “If it weren’t for that white-haired boy’s mother distracting us, we wouldn’t still be on this quest. Zayza and her friend would be in our grasp.”

“Yet if your impatience didn’t block your view, you would observe that we’re soon to encounter the Pine Forest,” Fewpar responded with a relaxed sigh.

Fewpar was right: in the distance, a spacious forest of pine trees began. And just beyond this was their desired destination: the triplet North Mountains.

“That wretched Zayza will be ours sooner than you think,” added Fewpar.

Najinzu sneered. “Tell me, Fewpar, how do you think she fares with knives?” he asked curiously.

“Hmm…I imagine she’s one of the more diverse types,” he responded. “Perhaps a screamer, probably a fighter…but most definitely a crier and pleader.”

“Pleaders are my favorite,” commented Najinzu.

“I’d have to agree, friend.”

“So then, you’ll let me play with her?”

“Of course,” permitted Fewpar with a kindhearted smile. “I prefer that you do. Only remember: you can’t kill this one. By all means come close to it, but don’t kill her.”

“Right.”

“And please, Najinzu, do refrain from getting her blood all over your clothing. That’s so untidy.”