SWORD-MEET-SWORD,

BLOOD-MEET-BLOOD,

BONE-MEET-BONE,

BONE-MEET-STEEL,

BLOOD-MEET-BULLET,

SHELL-MEET-SKY,

SKY-MEET-STARS,

STARS-MEET-HOME,

MOTHER-MEET-SHELL,

SHELL-MEET-TEARS,

TEARS-MEET-SHELL,

SHELL-MEET-GRAVE,

GRAVE-MEET-TIME,

“The Journey Back”, Simplicist Poem by Martan Drazhe

Dragan's body screamed, but he had no time to answer it. If he did not move, he would die.

As Serena reached him, her eyes aflame with green Aether, she thrust her sword forward at Dragan -- and it was only the fact that he ducked down that stopped him from being killed then and there. The blade was buried up to its hilt in the wall, and as Serena went to pull it free Dragan kicked up with an Aether-infused leg, shattering the weapon.

"You two," he growled, sweat crawling over his skin. "Snap out of it!"

There was no answer, but through the emerald haze Dragan could see the resistance in Serena's eyes. If she could open her mouth, Dragan was sure she'd be screaming.

It didn't seem to be affecting her movements at all, however. Serena brought down her now-free fist like a hammer, violet Aether shining through the gaps between her fingers, aiming right at the center of Dragan's chest.

Gemini World.

Dragan flickered out of existence -- and reappeared just outside of Serena's range, already wincing. With his current physical condition and exhaustion, he didn't dare use it any more than that.

What if he ended up unable to muster the effort to use Gemini World again once he was already in it? Would he be ejected from his Aether forcibly… or would he just cease to exist, like a bubble popping into nothing? He had no desire to test it.

"Bruno!" he called out, even as Serena began advancing again. "Can you hear me? Switch with Serena!"

Clearly, the enemy had used an ability on Serena to puppeteer her body and send her after Dragan. Dragan highly doubted that person knew that Bruno and Serena were two people in the same body -- there was a chance switching who was in the driver's seat could interfere with the enemy's power.

Serena's expression tightened into Bruno's, and a relieved smile slipped onto Dragan's face. To put it bluntly, it was premature.

Bruno's fist slammed into Dragan's face, using a forcefield like a knuckle duster, sending him flying across the room. Dragan knew well that the only thing that had saved his head from being pulverised was his Aether -- and clearly, it hadn't been able to absorb all the damage.

Blood pooled out from the side of his face that Bruno had struck, and his vision was growing hazy in one eye. As Dragan landed in a heap, he tried to pick himself up, but his body was sluggish and unresponsive. All he could do was scramble to rise, watching Bruno walk across the room, shimmering forcefields hovering over his fists.

It was hard to tell, but it looked like tears were streaming down Bruno's face.

He had to knock Bruno unconscious. If he didn't, he would die -- right here, right now. He was in no shape to run away.

Gemini Shotgun.

Dragan fired three chunks of rubble at Bruno -- and with three jerking motions, Bruno blocked each of them with his forcefields as he advanced. He fired another at Bruno's feet, but the other boy simply leapt over it.

Even while dodging, he'd crossed half the distance to Dragan already.

No good. No use. Bruno was the worst opponent for him to face under these circumstances: his shields would let him block any Shotgun attacks Dragan let loose.

His eyes drifted to Bruno's side, which was still dripping from his bloody wound. As he was now, Bruno was making no move to treat that injury. If Dragan dragged this fight out long enough, Bruno would no doubt pass out from blood loss and exhaustion -- but if he did that, there was no guarantee he'd be able to treat Bruno's wound in his own condition.

Options and options arose, but they all led to the same brick wall. With his own injuries, there wasn't even any guarantee that Dragan wouldn't pass out first. As things were right now…

…this seemed unwinnable.

Ruth ducked under the mighty swing of an axe, claws digging into the carpet as she latched hold of the floor. The air pressure that sent her blazing hair flying was such that it felt like she was standing in the middle of a tornado.

She ran through the scenario in her head.

Three enemies -- two wrapped in bandages, the other dressed in white robes -- against her and Skipper. The one in the white robes had vanished when Ruth had attacked him, and showed no sign of reappearing, so right now it was just the two mummies they had to worry about.

As Skipper fired a Heartbeat Shotgun, the enemy with the axe lifted his weapon as a shield -- the blades of the weapon engorging and spreading out like flower petals to form a barrier against the blast. At the same time, his companion lashed out with his whip, the barbed blade aimed right for Skipper's eyes.

Ruth saw it coming from a mile away.

Like a cat, she leapt upon the flexile weapon, trapping it between two of her claws and pinning it to the floor. Her hand wriggled free of the clawed gauntlet, leaving it in place -- it would reduce her fighting effectiveness, but at least she'd relieved one opponent of their weapon.

"Who are these guys?" Ruth asked, swinging her head up to face Skipper. He was still unleashing blast after blast, keeping the axe-wielder stuck in place.

"No clue," Skipper grunted -- before blasting himself up to the ceiling.

It was easy to see why. The axe-wielder had suddenly flipped his weapon around, pointing the end of the hilt towards Skipper. As though it were a cannon, a beam of light erupted from the hilt, eviscerating the space he'd just been occupying.

Ruth saw the whip beneath her claws slacken as its owner abandoned it, instead charging right towards her, bloodshot eyes staring with feral promise. They now held no weapon, but danger unmistakably radiated from them still.

She lunged towards them with her remaining claws, ready to parry whatever attack came -- but the form of the assault was not one she was prepared for. She saw the indentation of the mouth beneath the bandages shift --

-- and a second later, the enemy began breathing fire at her.

It came out in a steady stream, voraciously licking at the air, forcing her to put greater and greater distance between the two of them. As she did, she saw the axe-wielder shifting the aim of his weapon, pointing the hilt towards her instead. He ducked down, Skipper's Heartbeat Shotgun shattering the wall behind him.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She couldn't beat this at half her strength.

Her discarded claws disappeared from the floor, reappearing on her free hand -- and without missing a beat, the fire-breather recovered their whip from the ground.

As one, the two mummies let loose their weapons. The whip hurtled across the room, the axe-blast tore through space and matter, and --

-- and the air went cold.

The attacks stopped. This had already been a struggle for survival, but for the first time Ruth felt her breath catch on her throat. The two enemies, too, had turned on their heels, slowly backing away from the hole in the wall Skipper had created.

There was a monster there, slinking out of the darkness. A beast of black fur and claws, blood dripping from its teeth. In one hand, it held the ravaged corpse of what must have been a tourist. With the other, it slowly pointed at the two intruders.

"You," it growled, dark and subtle enough to shake bone. "Found… you."

What happened next was the matter of a few moments. Limbs flew, heads were pulped, and screams were cut short. If Ruth was asked to describe what she'd seen in that time, the only thing she could recall…

…would be the blood.

Dragan moved his head just in time to prevent Bruno's fist from smashing it. Instead, the concrete he struck shattered, shards of it flying every which way and slicing into Dragan's cheek.

"Bruno," he rasped, voice near-silenced by pain and exhaustion. "Snap out of it…"

Bruno did not answer.

Instead, he crouched down, straddling Dragan as he wrapped his stiff fingers around his throat. Slowly, slowly, the pressure began to increase -- and with it, Dragan's breath grew shorter and shorter. He did his utmost to try and pry Bruno's fingers off, but the strength of the other boy was no laughing matter.

Dragan's hands flopped weakly to the floor.

If only you'd never existed, the past said, as those dead fingers strangled him.

As he was choked, Dragan's fading vision was pointed up at the sky, the darkness of the ceiling and beyond seeking to assimilate him. He felt a trickle of warm saliva run from one side of his mouth and onto his cheek. Would he die like this, then, in a rerun of the past?

His eyes flicked back to Bruno. He didn't have the confidence to do a full Gemini World in this condition -- but from this range, and with Bruno already in this condition, a Gemini Shotgun could maybe have the power to eliminate him. Holding back wouldn't be an option… it would have to be a killshot.

Slowly, Dragan raised a shaking, pointing finger up towards Bruno's face. The other boy made no move to stop him. It would be exceedingly easy.

But then…

He thought of Bruno, waking up in that tent, offering reluctant thanks.

He thought of Bruno, leaping out of a car and falling through a city to save him.

He thought of Bruno, smiling despite himself, at his side.

His hand dropped again to the floor. So he couldn't do it. What a pain.

"Bruno," he whispered, with the last of his strength. "Switch… with… Serena…"

If that happened, he might have a chance. The tiniest, riskiest chance -- but a chance all the same.

Bruno's face softened into Serena's…

…but before Dragan could move, she reached into the ground, pulled free a sword, and stabbed it right into the centre of Dragan's chest.

The sound of shallow breathing stopped.

"I'd consider what you do next real carefully, pal," Skipper said slowly, pointing his readied finger at the monster.

Blood and meat dripped from the ceiling in chunks. A bandaged head lay on what was left of the now-crimson bed. All the other body parts ran in strips and tatters, hanging out of the beast's mouth like spaghetti.

The two bandaged enemies had been eliminated quickly -- and once that had been done, the hulking beast had turned on Ruth and Skipper.

Ruth grunted with great effort as the monster held her by the head, restraining her against the wall. She sliced at the arm holding her, but it was hard as steel, and her claws simply bounced off with sparks. The most she could do was shave the wiry black fur that covered the thing's body.

The beast turned its head to look at Skipper, on the other side of the room. Emerald Aether sparked around the older man as he readied an attack, a serious expression on his face.

"Let her go, yeah?" Skipper said mildly. "No need for this to get bloody." His eyes flicked to the carnage already in the room. "Well, bloodier."

Ruth felt the pressure around her skull tighten, just slightly, and a hiss of pain leaked from her cracked lips. At that, the look in Skipper's eyes grew a bit colder.

"That attack would not kill me," the monster growled, the glass in the room vibrating in accompaniment. "I would gut this little bitch, and then you as well."

"This ain't the attack I would use on you, Fido," Skipper said quietly.

In the manner of a curious dog, the beast cocked its head. "Then what? No blade nor bullet can harm me. It's pointless to --"

Emerald Aether boomed.

The glass in the room shattered further, flying in every direction, as the Aether around Skipper intensified -- brightening and focusing more and more until it was like a perfect sphere. Then, it honed itself, emerald thunderbolts illuminating the room, and between each strike forming the shadows of wings behind Skipper's shoulders.

Skipper's face was a merciless mask, looking down at the monster as if he were a piece of shit on his boot. The flashes of light simplified his features, hiding his eyes, making him look like some inhuman thing. A chill went down Ruth's spine.

His mouth opened. "Heartbeat F --"

The monster released Ruth -- and with a flash of black fur, was gone from the room. She dropped roughly to the floor. Instantly, the light around Skipper died, and he collapsed to one knee.

"Woo," he sighed, wiping sweat from his hair. "I'm real glad that worked."

Ruth massaged her aching head, moaning in pain -- and disgust, as she realised she'd landed in a puddle of blood. It took a second for her to look back up at Skipper.

"What was that?" she asked. "That ability?"

Skipper glanced away. "A bluff. It wouldn't have worked under these conditions, anyway."

"Yeah… but what was it?"

"Ruth," he said, his gaze returning to her before flicking away again. "There's no time. It's not safe here. We can't stick around for too long."

She followed his eyes -- and saw what he saw. That monster had broken through the wall to get here, and now she could see the route he'd taken. Room after room smashed through, each painted with blood, forming a tunnel of suffering. The moans of the dying echoed through the building.

In the distance, someone was weeping.

"We need to find the others," Skipper said, eyes hard. "And we need to get out of here."

For the first time, Jamie Pot thought there was a real possibility that he might fail Giovanni. It was terrifying.

He did not fear punishment, for he knew none would be coming. He did not fear anger, for he knew Giovanni would not show him it. What he feared… was the disappointment of the one who had lifted him up from nothing, knowing that he would be the cause of Giovanni's inconvenience.

No. Whatever it took, he would not allow that.

He clung to the ceiling like one of his flies as he saw the blond girl run the Cogitant through on one of her swords. The deed done, she slowly rose to her shaking feet, took two steps -- and promptly collapsed from blood loss herself.

Two down, or near enough. Once their deaths were confirmed, he'd just need to return upstairs, eliminate the armoured girl too, and capture the green man. That was doable. Perfectly doable.

Even so, the bandage around his injured arm had turned red long ago, and his thoughts felt sticky and sluggish. He just needed to power through. He just needed to power through, and he could get through all this.

He dropped to the ground, silent as his feet hit the floor, and began making his way to the unconscious girl. His shotgun slipped out of his sleeve and into his hand as he walked.

People were placed into this world to fulfil their obligations. That was the mission Y had for them. When a person was born, their obligations were still invisible to them, but they slowly revealed themselves as life went on.

Jamie's obligation was to make Giovanni's dream come true. And right now, the way to do that --

He pointed the gun down at the girl's head.

-- was to eliminate these people.

His finger curled around the trigger.

Bang.

The sound that echoed through the room was not Jamie's gunshot. It was another, aimed for him. His shotgun clattered to the ground, and he slowly looked down as he staggered back.

His fingers were a pulp of red, one hanging off by a thin strip of tendon, the rest little more than spoiled meat.

He looked up at the source of the attack.

The dead Cogitant was standing.

He looked barely conscious, his eyes heavily lidded, his breathing a torturous labour, but he was standing. His slouch was such that it looked like an invisible hand was holding him up by the collar, but he was standing. Blood dribbled from every wound he had, but he was standing.

And he was glaring with enough force to melt stone.

"Gemini Shotgun," he spat, as if in explanation.

"You're dead," Jamie whispered, eyes wide with disbelief. "I saw you die."

The Cogitant reached up to his tattered shirt and tore the chest open, revealing the miracle beyond. Where the wound that had destroyed his heart should have been, there was only a ring of static. Jamie could see the scenery behind him through the hole.

"I recorded my heart into Aether as Serena struck me," he panted, slurring, as if the explanation was just another way to keep himself conscious. "I realized. In the hallway, your zombie was attacking a clock. It thought the ticking was a heartbeat, right? That's how your puppets detect life. By the heartbeat. So I stopped mine."

"So?" Jamie glared. "You're still almost dead."

"So are you." Even through the pain, a smirk spread across the Cogitant's pale lips. "I wonder who can seal the deal first."

Fair enough. "What's your name?" Jamie called out, genuinely curious.

The Cogitant's eyes narrowed. "Dragan Hadrien. You?"

"Jamie Pot. So… what happens now?"

"Now?" Dragan took a single step forwards, the effort of looking like it was almost enough to knock him down. "Now I guess we kill each other."

"Fair enough…" Jamie said again, this time out loud. "Sorry, but I can't lose. There's someone I can't let down no matter what."

"Same here," Dragan growled.

Dragan stared at Jamie.

Jamie stared at Dragan.

Fingers twitched.

Mouths breathed.

Jamie had a spare shotgun in his other sleeve, but it would take him longer to fire with his injured arm. Would Dragan's considerable injuries help even the gap there? There was no way of knowing. There was no strategy here that could ensure victory.

Only speed, and the willingness to kill.

A single shot to the head, so there was no chance for a counterattack. That would be the path to victory.

"You know…" Dragan said.

Jamie-grabbed-his-Shotgun-and-fired.

The blast, infused and enhanced with Aether, tore through the room as it zoomed towards Dragan. Forget the head -- it would have been enough to annihilate the entire upper half of Dragan's body.

That is, it would have been… if it had reached him.

The blast fizzled away into electric-blue Aether the second before it could hit his face. Dragan's expression didn't budge in the slightest.

He continued his sentence. "...I never showed you how my first ability works, did I?"

Oh. I'm dead.

"Gemini Shotgun." Dragan's words were an execution sentence.

The blast was as powerful as Jamie had hoped, and it was only his last attempt to dodge that prevented him from being reduced to a red mist. Still, as the blast scraped across the front of his body, all meat and skin was scraped away, opening him for the world to see.

He was dead before he hit the floor.

And Dragan was unconscious before he hit the floor.