Caelus Breck

Jungle Planet

Supremacy Space

Three Years Earlier…

The last thing Preston Rikhail remembered was the pain as Atoy Muzazi cut off his foot.

The next thing Preston Rikhail experienced was the pain as Atoy Muzazi cut everything else away, too.

The bad news came in an endless flood as Preston lay in the hospital bed, held for endless questioning by the Galactic Intelligence Division. His father, the Lord Mayor, had been killed by Atoy Muzazi. A new Lord Mayor was to be assigned, rather than him taking up his father's position. The Heart Building -- essentially his house -- had been found nonviable and was to be abandoned. Civil war had broken out between the gangs of Caelus Breck, dragging the planet further down into chaos.

And all that time, as he lay there, he seethed.

Atoy Muzazi.

Atoy Muzazi.

Atoy Muzazi.

In a way, he was grateful. It wasn't that his suffering was a result of bad luck or forces outside his comprehension. There was a name and a face he could blame. There was someone doing this to him. Atoy Muzazi. That fucking Special Officer who'd dropped out of the sky and torn down his life. Whelp. Fucking parasite.

Things did not improve for him when he was finally released. Without his assets, he'd been left homeless and destitute, wandering the streets of Azum-Ha as little more than a beggar -- but not a beggar, he never begged, he survived. Even when the nights grew cold as ice, and his stomach was a void, he never lowered himself to that degree.

He had a dream, after all, one that occupied his hours waking and sleeping both. Vengeance. Vengeance upon Atoy Muzazi. It was a petty dream… but even a petty dream could keep someone alive. Humans needed things like that to keep going on.

It was one of those nights, when he was huddled behind a fast food place's heat sink, that the angel appeared.

A young woman, short in stature, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. She had knelt down next to him -- and for a moment, he'd thought she would give him some of her change. He'd have lost it if that were the case… but it wasn't at all.

"Poor thing," she whispered. "He hurt you, didn't he? That Atoy Muzazi."

His eyes widened at the name, and an animalistic growl poured from his throat. Despite the dignity he'd tried to retain, there was only so much one could do with boiling rage. He was just about to get up when she planted a hand on his shoulder, fingers fizzling with orange Aether.

"He hurt me too," she explained calmly. "He took someone very important away from me. I want to make him pay."

She blinked, and the grip on his shoulder grew tighter.

"Do you want to make him pay?"

Ocean Hate

Floating City of Pangloss (Abandoned)

Supremacy Space

Present Day…

Preston Rikhail -- or for the purposes of this mission, Pawn -- roared with a voice that could shatter the sky. As the noise echoed, he swung his gargantuan leg right through another skyscraper and reduced it to a pile of rubble in an instant. Smoke poured up from his prosthetic foot, burning everything it touched. The few traces of vegetation that had survived in Pangloss quickly found itself transforming into ash.

As the fingers on his injured hand regenerated -- new digits pushing themselves out of the wounds -- Pawn looked around frantically. He'd destroyed all the buildings around him, all the places that blonde bastard could attack him from, but there was no doubt that he was still around. He was an Aether master, after all.

Yes, Aether…

He himself had only managed to unlock his Aether three months ago after extensive training, and only to a basic degree. However, even that rudimentary proficiency had been enough to use a Fusion Tool -- and that Fusion Tool, Mount Malaise, had been enough to get him through the Outer Melee. With the Aether Armament that Queen had granted him, he could stand up to any opponent.

Even so, he couldn't waste time here. While this paperman distracted him, Atoy Muzazi was getting further and further away. If he didn't get after him quickly, he could escape -- or worse, King could kill him before Preston got the chance.

Preston vaguely remembered this blonde guy's name from the files on the Phases that King had passed around. Gregori Hazzard, right? Whoever he was, if he wasn't dead, he was surely trapped under the rubble of this plaza. Preston could just leave him here and pursue Muzazi.

He took another step forward, shaking the earth…

Blood splashed out from his heels.

…and he immediately fell on his face, shaking the earth again.

I.

Inside.

Morgan Nacht's latest ability -- a transportation type, able to instantly record and manifest himself Inside a sealed space of his choice. In this case, the building beneath him. Morgan dropped down into what had surely once been a child's bedroom, now ruined and scoured by fire and water.

The Fog had disappeared when Morgan had broken the connection, but he could still hear the speedster's footsteps above, circling the spot from where he'd vanished. That was good -- that meant he wouldn't be going back after Muzazi.

No doubt that King guy's subordinate's had received similar orders to the Phases: delay the enemy. If that was the case, the running man wanted to keep Morgan here too. So he wouldn't break off pursuit.

Morgan considered his options. With the speed that guy had been moving, there was no way he'd seen the exact moment Morgan had vanished, so he'd still be looking for him. How long would it take him to find this room? Probably not too long, but even so Morgan would be able to hear his footsteps. A surprise attack was not out of the question.

He nodded to himself. Better to fight this guy in these cramped quarters where his movement was limited. Even if he was fast, if he could only move in certain ways he could be easily anticipated.

Morgan took a step forward, flipping his sword in his hand --

-- and then went flying backwards as a small fist struck him in the face.

He hit the wall, tearing free a farball poster, and collapsed down onto the sodden floor. His sword slipped from his grip and landed next to him -- where he could only watch, horrified, as the blur of a foot slammed down on it again and again. Within a second or two, it was little more than a pile of shattered metal.

Morgan leapt to his feet -- but before he could so much as touch the ground, he'd been seized by the ankle and hurled into the opposite wall. The surface was weak, and so Morgan's body smashed through it and tumbled towards the river below.

Bastard! Morgan thought. He wasn't this fast a second ago!

Throwing his wrist forward, Morgan conjured another string of Fog and latched onto the overhang above, pulling himself up towards the roof. He was just in time. An instant afterwards, the blur launched itself out of the hole in the wall too, striking at the spot Morgan had just been in -- before falling down into the water.

Splash.

The thing's swimming speed was so fast that Morgan couldn't even tell which direction it went. The water just exploded upwards, droplets raining onto the roof even as he climbed atop it. He caught his breath as much as he felt was safe.

Whatever's going on, Morgan thought, looking around warily. It's not just speed. It's acceleration.

That was right. When the enemy had first tried to sneak attack Muzazi, he'd been so fast that Morgan almost hadn't caught it. Then, however, he'd been fast, but not so fast that Morgan hadn't been able to keep track of him. And now he was just stupid fast again.

A. C.

Another burst of Fog drifted out of Morgan's hand, forming into a rudimentary broadsword in his grip. It wouldn't be as effective as a physical object, but it was better than nothing. Morgan held the sword up, ready to counterattack, his back pressed against the building's chimney. He already knew he wouldn't be able to see the attack coming, but if he struck the instant he felt pain… he just might have a chance.

If Morgan was right, then the enemy's ability worked like so:

They begin at a speed far exceeding that of a human being. The longer they continue moving, the faster they get. If they stop or hesitate, their speed returns to its base value and the ability resets.

Sweat ran down the back of Morgan's neck as he waited, blade ready, for the blow that surely must come. Was there an upper limit to the speed? If there wasn't, then Morgan was fucked. The enemy could just keep running around, building up their momentum, until they were so fast that Morgan couldn't hope to get them.

Breathe in.

It began to gently rain. Morgan welcomed the chill against his skin.

Breathe out.

He could hear the rain, bouncing against the water below. Morgan tightened his grip against his sword, tendrils of Fog curling around his fingers.

Breathe in.

In a shard of broken window, Morgan's reflection was visible. He'd seen better days. Blood was trickling down his face, and his skin was turning pale.

Breathe out.

But that didn't matter.

Breathe in.

He had a plan.

Breathe out.

No.

Breathe in.

He had a victory.

Breathe out!

Wu Ming glanced back over his shoulder.

"Huh? Combat tips? I dunno… I don't think too hard about that stuff. It mostly just comes natural, you know? Just win. That usually works."

…

"Hey, don't give me that face. You're the one who asked. Well, lemme think, lemme think… I guess people always say to think outside of the box, right? That's pretty good. But…"

…

"...personally, I don't really get why they keep talking about this 'box'..."

…

"...don't they realize it never existed in the first place?"

Knight would have grinned to himself if he still had a mouth. He could feel the wind whipping against his brown carapace, could feel the rain sliding off his form, unable to keep up. He'd been circling the rooftop again and again, building up speed, so fast that he was no longer visible.

In about ten seconds he'd reach a speed that couldn't be reacted against. Then he'd go in for the kill.

Knight's absurd speed was the result of something like an Aether glitch. His normal ability was to always move slightly faster than the fastest object in the vicinity. With it, he could outrun vehicles and bullets with ease. Fast, by all means, but not unstoppable.

However, when he combined with his Fusion Tool -- Gallant Gallop -- things changed. It seemed that, even though he and Gallant Gallop became one entity, his ability still recognised them as two separate targets. As a result, his ability was constantly active, always making him slightly faster than himself -- resulting in this endless acceleration.

Queen had been quite excited about this result. Perhaps she thought it a display of her Fusion Tools' infinite potential. Knight couldn't help but agree.

And then… just as he had expected… the fatal moment came.

Morgan Nacht swung his smoke-sword, clearly having spotted the afterimage of an afterimage -- and, of course, he missed, hitting nothing but the ground. His last gambit had failed, and as he stepped forward -- away from the chimney -- to make it, his back was left wide open.

Knight wasn't kind enough to overlook that.

In a fraction of a fraction of a second, Knight weaved around Morgan, ducked under his arm, lunged for his back to run him through and --

-- stopped.

"Eh?"

He only had time to glance down at his foot. There -- encasing it like some kind of bizarre shoe -- was a white cube.

Morgan swung around, whipping his massive sword through the air.

He could have explained that he'd pushed all of his infusion into his brain, boosting his perception of time to its limit. He could have explained that he'd positioned a Block directly behind himself. He could have explained that he'd intentionally missed that first slash, creating an opening that Knight surely could not resist. He could have explained that, at the very last instant of an instant of an instant, he'd used I to put Knight's foot Inside the Block, halting his momentum for just a moment.

He could have explained all of that, but he didn't. All he did was swing his sword and send Knight's head flying off his body.

As the enemy's decapitated corpse crumpled to the ground, Morgan let out a breath he'd been holding for a long while. His broadsword of Fog dissipated, and he stared at his scraped-raw palm as the last tendrils drifted away.

"'Just win', huh?" he muttered to himself, smiling softly. "I see. It's exactly as you said, sir."

The bloody rain fell down without end.

"...were you watching?"

"D-Damn it…" Preston rasped, pushing himself across the ground -- leaving a trail of crimson behind him. "G-G-Goddamnit."

He'd returned to normal size now, green Aether fuzzing around his prosthetic foot as his Fusion Tool failed to reactivate. That prosthetic was the only leg Preston had now. The other one had been severed in Gregori Hazzard's relentless assault, along with one of Preston's arms. The severed limbs sunk down into the water below.

Gregori followed casually after the dying Preston, hands back in his pockets. There wasn't so much as a scratch on him. His red eyes looked disdainfully down at Preston as the man continued trying to drag himself onwards.

"Hey," he said.

Preston did not reply. He reached out with a shaking hand and seized the edge of the pavement, pulling himself further -- until Gregori took his hand back out of his pocket for a second.

It was impossible to even see the moment Gregori cut off Preston's remaining arm. By the time the man started screaming, Gregori's hand had already returned to his pocket.

"Hey," Gregori repeated calmly. "I'm talking to you."

Damnit, damnit, damnit…! In the distance, Preston could see Muzazi -- see him fighting King, see them smashing through buildings as their bout escalated. He was so close! He was right there!

"Muzazi…" he snarled, eyes bulging out of their sockets. "Atoy Muzazi…!"

Squatting down, Gregori followed Preston's gaze and sighed. "I see. So it's a revenge thing, huh? Man, I really don't get people like you."

"Out of my way…" Preston pleaded, begged, demanded. "I need to… to…"

"Need to?" Gregori raised an eyebrow. "Nah. You didn't need to do anything. You wanted to kill him, right? I just don't get why."

"I… I…"

Gregori cut him off. "He did something that pissed you off, right? It's usually something like that, but still. I really just don't understand how you can go throwing your life away for stuff like this, man. Doesn't make any sense."

What amounted to strength finally abandoned Preston, and he was unable to do anything but stare up at the sky -- at Gregori, whose face blocked out the sun. Silhouetted like that, all Preston could see of him were wide and empty red eyes. They stared down at Preston as that calm and lethargic voice went on and on.

"Love, hate, duty, revenge, ideals… it's not just that that stuff's invisible. It’s not even worthless. It doesn't even exist. If it existed, I could reach out and take hold of it, right? And yet dumbasses like you go around killing and dying for this stuff that isn't even real. Whatever happened, you survived, didn’t you? You should have been satisfied with your little miracle and sought out a comfortable life."

Those eyes narrowed.

"That's the best a miserable human can hope for… don’t you think?"

He gave no time for Preston to respond, nor did Preston have the strength to. Gregori simply walked away, casual as could be, strolling up the staircase into the city proper. Preston just lay there, his ragged breathing growing quieter and quieter…

Atoy Muzazi…

Atoy Muzazi…

A… toy… Mu… za…

…until the rising water climbed over his face.