High in the bright blue sky amongst the fluffy white clouds slides the golden train as it gradually uncurls itself from its former halo shape into a snake, one that rises on its turn upwards for the infinity above, the cold airless vacuum unsuitable for life to roam exposed.

Despite the approaching danger zone, atop the golden roof of the train on one of the many cars stands two figures, simply on top of the train flying up above the sky after the announcement had requested their return inside.

Though the two figures are not simply standing, as in fact one of them is off their feet and in the air, that one being the one with the black coat waving behind their back beneath the yellow hat as their fist is pulled back, the fingers a metallic gray which he thrusts in his lunge at the other figure in front whose true black cape waves too in the air same as the hood, protecting only the back as in front the figure extends their hands both of which emit streams of azureous flames which moments upon extension widen out to form a barrier that materializes immediately next into a silver metal sheet functioning as a wall.

That wall though is immediately punctured through the center by that metallic fist of the pirate king who grits his teeth, an intense grimace as the force of his strike reverberates throughout the wall, though his fist was too far from target and the hole wasn’t nearly wide enough to slip his entire body through. Oddly enough however that’s when his knuckles suddenly flashed from that dark gray metal into more of a dirty bronze, and at once all four of his knuckles are shot forward as bullets propelled by an explosive projection like any ballistic firearm, firing point blank at the Spirit who just the moment prior had reacted with an evasive crouch only capable in such little reaction time due to the propulsion as left behind in the blue residual glow emissive off the body.

That evasion provides the Spirit just enough time to wrap his right arm in a gauntlet double his size, one equipped with a strange fist as the knuckles are open vents which flare bright blue as he throws that fist forward just as the knuckles propel a repulsive burst of energy towards the wall just as it erupts in flames to allow the full blast to thrust the King off his feet in the air as he reaches for the surface well beyond his arm length, or that is until his left arm inhumanly stretches like ropes to allow his hands to clutch onto the roof thereby allowing him to pull himself as his right arm is arched back, though his arm too elongates but not only that as the entire fist suddenly inflates to nearly ten times its original size as it again recolors into the gray metal, becoming like a train itself just before it’s driven straight at the Spirit who leaps backwards with his arms forward to manifest flames that form a thicker metal wall between himself and the fist, though that fist simply smashes straight through with ease such that the Spirit has to accelerate his backtread with an additional burst accompanied with a cable projected from his back.

Flung backwards away from the titanic fist that then deflates back to its human size as the King lands on the ground, letting his arms also snap to proper length, the Spirit lands on his feet though skids slightly back, the frosty crystal on his boots flickering in response to the intense show of strength.

Though in truth that was only the start, as the King clashes his fists together which sparks as he marches straight for the Spirit, taunting in a voice still intense though noticeably more confident given his smirk: “So you really can just make anything out of the blue, well that’s one bullshit power but I guess I can’t complain. My body is anything I make it, so let’s see which one breaks first.”

Separating his fists, he allows each of his fingers to stretch independently to lengths like a rope each, though the tips of his fingers expand out to form various tips of different weapons, axes and glaives, maces and scythes, and simply autonomously all of them begin spinning by their finger cord to such speeds they’re nearly impossible to track with it only being a matter of time before the windup’s energy is released.

Standing in front of the barrage of finger weapons, the Spirit gazes ahead through the mask, the bright cyan supersun behind him amongst the clouds, shining on its warrior who sighs and contemplates, “For a moment I was concerned we had all vastly overestimated your threat, near-free creation huh, you can reinforce your body however you choose.”

He then raises his head as his eyes flare through the lenses in his cold determination: “Perhaps I can hit a little harder.”

Smiling fearlessly in his own might, the King arches his arms back before finally throwing both forward towards the Spirit who simultaneously sprints forward before launching in the air, arming both hands with hilts that have a circular ring allowing each hilt to carry five metal blades that immediately begin spinning intensely like fans which he uses to clash against the glaive and scythe, sparks flying upon instant contact as the Spirit’s body dashes directionally as cables fire from his hips to navigate himself through the skin ropes, choosing to throw himself straight into the storm as he slashes against the maces and axes before then relinquishing both weapons just as he passes out of the storm, free from the skin ropes with only the main body ahead which he pulls his arm back, throwing a quick jab straight for the stomach.

That jab does land, and there is an impact, a great one in fact as the entire torso of the King suddenly stretches far back comically so, though he remains standing on his feet thus allowing himself to reinforce his forehead with a band of long spikes which he attempts to headbutt the Spirit with, who counters with speedily flames off his head to form an orb around his body made of a tempered glassy material that shatters the spikes into small pieces, protecting himself though removing his contact as the King manages to reel his torso back towards his body, though instead of doing that just yet he instead lets it fly further as it crashes straight into the orb, shattering said orb from the sheer force alone, flinging the Spirit though that plays to his advantage as the additional space allows him to throw his arm forward and burst flames that expand into forming a conal missile whose body is as long as his, firing straight on target for the King whose entire head freakishly scales magnitudes larger enough that he allows the missile to fly straight into his mouth before chomping on it, the following explosion simply just a boom inside the body, smoke sizzling between the teeth.

That absorption isn’t the end of the move though, as the King’s cheeks bloat as though about to barf, and upon opening his mouth he releases a great flood of magma like lethal vomit straight for the Spirit who throws his arms back to unleash four quick bolts of flames each of which suspend and create hovering huge bright red cannons which all are already aiming in front of the creator which allows them to focus first on firing a highly pressured ray of water that combined manages to clash against the magma flow.

While the four huge cannons each of which larger than the creator maintain their heavy streams to ward off the magma vomit, an additional flame is fired down to the ground at an angle right in front of the huge head of the King whose focus is above, thus he isn’t aware that the flame spreads into a blaze covering the floor which then births a huge silver fist attached to an arm which uppercuts the King’s chin, providing enough force to throw the King backwards and stop the burning vomit.

Spinning uncontrollably in backwards flight, the King doesn’t shrink his large head but rather doubles down as suddenly all four of his limbs stretch and expand out to a similar scale of his head as does his body though the proportion isn’t perfectly correct rather his vastly heavier shoulders and arms better resemble the shape of a gorilla, one of titanic scale for his hands alone are as wide as the train itself which he grabs onto for stability as the car he grips begins to tilt up, requiring him to be cautious about gravity as now ahead of him the full train is straight in its aim for the clouds; the car under his feet angled subtly albeit gradually tilting upwards. His clothing manages to stay intact as despite its casual appearance, it does appear uniquely befitting of his abilities, though his yellow hat does nearly vanish or rather it remains the same size, hardly visible in his field of hair. His black jacket samely hasn’t enlarged, though it does miraculously clutch onto the widened neck even if hardly visible either.

Gripping onto the train car, he bellows a monstrous roar before throwing his right arm forward in a punch towards the Spirit, who evaporates his water cannons same as the huge fist while dashing upwards to narrowly avoid the punch, right above the long arm which he fires two cables, one from each hand, down onto thereby planting himself on the arm right by the wrist before disengaging the cables and sprinting up the arm.

His cape flowing behind him as he runs along the arm now angled more like a ramp given the climbing train, the Spirit races down the forearm of the gorilla beast who reaches with his left hand to try grabbing the Spirit as though he was a bug, a spider perhaps, a mere pest to flick away. In fact, the gorilla hands are large enough to grab the entire body of the Spirit and crush him if desired, that plan being the intent the closer the hand reaches the Spirit, though similar to many ordinary pests this one leaps in evasion of the grab, though a unique attribute most other pests lack is the aerial mobility that this pest uses when he fires a cable onto the elbow of the left arm, swinging his body in a pendulum around the gorilla; in fact the Spirit flings himself behind the gorilla altogether after following his first swing with another cable attached to the large shoulder, those two swings alone are able to navigate him out of the gorilla’s sight.

Such motion happening in just a second, the King’s enlarged face becomes perplexed given the raised eyebrow and hanging jaw, only beginning to turn his head as the Spirit behind him extends his arms out, secreting blue flames off both hands which manifest into twin hilts that each emit Anti-Exmatter energy blades, the black contrasting with the whites and blue of the sky same as the black cape waving in front of the clouds.

Without even needing to complete the glance, which would be rather hard given the neck of the transfigured King, the gorilla’s eyes widen and he sharply inhales in anticipation as the Spirit behind him projects two cables off his hips, both attaching to his body.

Specifically those cables attach to the gorilla’s exposed back, as while it is clothed, the likelihood that it could withstand the twin blades was perhaps beyond its capability. Taking that likelihood, the Spirit reels himself towards the back and raises both blades, intent for a single clean slash to depower the captain with a stab to the back.

That back however transfigures in a spot between the cables, a spot protruding from the skin out in the shape of a traditional cannon that rips through the red shirt. The spot isn’t only of the appearance of a cannon, but the hollow opening flashes before firing a metal cannonball expelled with an explosion, functioning as one too which the Spirit simply evades by disengaging his cables and dashing to the side, his path not very deterred or that is until several more cannons protrude from the back like acupuncture needles, all of them firing at a rate perhaps not defined as rapid, each firing another ball every half a second, though the rising number of cannons results in a consistent volley that itself can be seen as fast.

Growling quietly, the Spirit strafes again to the side, and again, constantly dodging the barrage with a few dashes forward but a few back as it becomes quickly clear that this angle was no longer the most optimal, for he wasn’t able to make his strike quick enough. Despite the original hypothesis that the hulking size of the gorilla would result in slow movement therefore making quick mobility a path to victory, one defiance of that hypothesis was the swift defensive reflexes that could be conjured on said body, for the King wasn’t truly restricted to his shape. This gorilla form made the King a fortress, able to deal heavy strikes from all angles and be difficult to touch without being struck, thus the Spirit would require a counter fit for that opposition.

A plan formulated in not a full second, the Spirit dashes backwards several times, seeming to be retreating away from the cannonfire, and furthermore he fires a cable onto the car’s wall which he reels himself towards, vanishing from the roof altogether as if he went into hiding out of terror.

Right after the escape, the barrage ceases as the King grunts in perplexion, slightly nudging his head back in curiosity to the sudden disappearance, though the moment he even bends his neck he turns away from that vanishing opponent who swings from below the train about twenty or so feet in front of his body, garnering altitude from the long swing from the bottom such that he’s about eye level now with the transfigured King.

That King’s eyes widen too at the moment that the Spirit’s whole body releases a wave of azure flames that consumes him but furthermore spreads out wildly in the general shape of a humanoid magnitudes larger than himself, in fact what would be the feet reach all the way to the car’s roof. This shape is far more alike a human in terms of proportions, though it’s skin isn’t as much compared to the King’s, for the material applied to this body is pure white though with a texture somewhat resembling skin. This skin is reinforced with large frosty crystals forming gauntlets around the arms and fists as well as a few plates along the upper arms, legs, and torso over the abdomen and chest, a giant with more of a defensive design. The face also has a large crystal mask for the jaw, though the parallelogram eyes shine above it, lacking a helmet oddly enough. While the body does have significant armor, there’s still exposed white skin to allow for adequate mobility utilized when the giant takes motion, immediately charging in a sprint for the gorilla while pulling its right arm back.

Quick to act, the gorilla bellows as he throws his right arm for a punch aimed to the head of the opponent now vastly similar to his scale, though this opponent still retains a greater degree of agility as the titan ducks and weaves, taking another step towards the body to then throw his own right hand, releasing its power straight into the gorilla’s chest as the frosty fist flares upon delivery. In the very next moment, a shockwave is released which bellows a thunderous boom that rips nearby clouds and staggers the gorilla back.

Hastily the transfigured King reorients himself just as the Spirit’s titan throws a following punch with the left arm, though this one is grabbed by the gorilla and yanked forward, offsetting the Spirit who stumbles forward before being struck in the abdomen, the crystals flashing upon impact though even then the titan stumbles backwards.

Taking the opportunity, the gorilla makes a charge forward and throws his arm in an offensive strike just as the titan lifts both arms up to block in a boxer stance, able to block the first strike though even then the titan slides backwards, golden panels of the roof chipping off and being flung down as the car beneath them is now at about a forty five degree angle, making a difference in stumbles as the gorilla charges again to throw another jab which is blocked though knocks the titan back, followed with another jab, then another, each of them landing on the crystal gauntlets yet still having a readable impact.

Roaring victoriously, the gorilla pulls back its left arm for another job just as two huge blazing streams fire from the titan’s chest outwards, each stream manifesting a huge metal orb high up in the air a little above shoulder level but offset off the train’s roof. Both orbs immediately project a flurry of blue energy cables, each one attaching to the gorilla’s wrists before then wrapping around, tugging at the gorilla’s arms as they start pulling away to the King’s stunned expression.

In front of the pirate king stands the titan, bending his knee in preparation of a strike against an opponent now chained, multiple cars behind them all curving up as now only a few left at the bottom are still relatively horizontally leveled.

Growling in agitation of the hold, the gorilla bellows again, but this time his large stomach protrudes one colossal hollow cylinder: a cannon given its metal body that pushes aside the red vest. The inside of the cannon flares up orange, prepared to fire as a desperate counter without the use of arms.

Facing the huge cannon, the Spirit’s titan nonetheless charges forward as though ignorant of the danger, although the tactic wasn’t thoughtless as a huge blue flame projects forth from the chest, one that stops short but expands massively to a huge metal wall as tall as the gorilla though not properly grounded as it hovers a few feet off the ground.

That offset from the ground has a purpose though as the Spirit jabs it once, launching the wall forwards and driving it straight to the gorilla, not only absorbing the giant cannonball this time the size of the titan’s head, but furthermore bashing into the gorilla thereby knocking him back before being erased in flames, only to allow for the Spirit’s charging titan to tackle the gorilla and continue the charge forward as the two restraining orbs vanish.

The titan carries the gorilla all the way up the car past the lost ground as the king struggles back, transfiguring his back into protruding a flurry of tentacles, though unlike the mechanical, metallic golden tentacles of the Artificer these are instead far more slimy and organic, reminiscent of that of a squid which reach for the Spirit’s shoulder only for that shoulder blade’s crystal pad to be extinguished in favor for an uprising blue flame that extends to form a huge railgun already aimed properly to fire with such explosive might that it instantly obliterates the tentacles, not merely subduing them but decimating them whole.

The gorilla’s stomach cannon hadn’t been called off though, as the King fires a second shot this time at point blank and without enough time for a reaction, thus it decimates cleanly through the white skin shell of the titan’s abdomen, causing the frosty pads to fall off like rubble and for a gaping wound to be left in the Spirit’s giant.

Even then speed isn’t lost as the titan shows no concern for the wound but instead carries the gorilla all the way to the end of the car as the ceiling finally becomes perfectly vertical, the titan still grounded from hidden technology in the feet though the King is clearly troubled as he begins flailing his arms before the titan leaps off the car, propelling itself with huge blue dashes such that it imitates gravity to therefore allow him to then slam the King into the next car, again ripping clouds and chipping the roof paneling as the ceiling just subtly dents as a whole.

Holding the gorilla down, or rather against the wall given the true orientation of both of them as the sky around them begins to darken, not due to the passage in day but rather the passage to space, the Spirit’s titan lifts his head as azure flames emit from the top, wrapping around the head above the eyes in a form of a headband, though after formation it then materializes in frosty crystals, at first potentially strange given the lack of needing armor at this very moment given the advantage he’s in.

However this headband isn’t necessarily built as armor, but rather a weapon as the titan then slams its head straight into the King’s enlarged head, the frosty crystals adding additional impact as the King grunts in a bellow of agony.

Lifting his head up again, the Spirit’s titan again headbutts the King, this slam harder than the other as the roof supporting the King’s head depresses just slightly, struggling to carry the burden of the force.

It’d need to again though as the Spirit’s titan raises its head once again, preparing for a third headbutt in succession, lacking mercy.

Again the titan drives its head towards the King’s, though this time that enlarged head instantly shrinks like a deflated balloon, evading the headbutt as the head instead slams straight into the golden roof, causing heavier damage given the crater left in the roof along with the panels being upleveled from impact, but the primary target wasn’t struck.

In fact as the driver of the titan is still hit by the wave of shock from the miss, the entire King’s body shrinks, the gorilla-like proportions leveling back into human as the whole giant deflates, the far slimmer limbs allowing the King to seamlessly slip out of the titan’s hold in a near instant, the yellow hat now properly fitting his head as the black jacket cape is again more prominent behind his body which springs up to its feet below the knees that then bend before again springing the body up, though this time straight for the titan’s head as the King’s normal sized hands cross over each other before then again abnormally enlarging, though this time they elongate more not even in the shape of hands but rather long blades which color appropriately to a silverish material. In just a second, both blades stretch long enough such that in between them is the titan’s neck, the target given the King’s devious smirk.

In one swift motion, the King brings both crossed arms together, and like a scissor the two crossed blades clasp together straight through the titan’s neck which isn’t reinforced, and thus it’s cut like paper, beheading the huge giant in an instant as the parallelogram eyes lose their glow and the head drops down towards the King.

Before the King needs to evade, that head conveniently bursts into flames on its own, however not as conveniently that blaze functions as a smokescreen from which the Spirit bolts through, his frosty knuckles flaring in preparation for a punch.

Instantly upon recognition, the King leaps backwards just in the nick of time as the Spirit lands on the floor or rather the roof, forming yet another crater although this one not as wide, however the Spirit is much faster in raising his head before launching off the floor in a dash for the King who again leaps back as his arms rotate behind himself and stretch far to grab onto the beheaded titan’s shoulder as an anchor point to swing from to again dodge the Spirit who next leaps in the air in pursuit, projecting two cables one from each hand onto his own giant’s arm as a point to swing from as that very arm bursts into blue flames.

The Spirit relinquishes his cables and allows himself to be flung into the air right as his former battle titan disperses, leaving only the sight of the King further ahead, the two soaring along the train’s path which heads straight up, the surrounding sky hardly populated with clouds other than sparse strands as the color shifts from blue to black, gently being populated by the glitter dim but present as stars. Instead of facing that view though, the King instead drifts backwards to face the Spirit head on, continuing aerial flight as his feet have been transformed into rapid propellers pushing him as both of his hands are held up, both of which have been transfigured to resemble firearms given their metal body and long barrels which both fire a rapid barrage of projectiles.

Those projectiles are however warded off by a circular crystal shield the Spirit equips in his right hand on instinct, causing them to bounce off with those projectiles having a general shape of a bullet even with the bronze casing, though instead of a simple cylinder with a pointed tip they are shaped as fingers, each of which upon bouncing off suddenly flare hot.

An abrupt sequence of explosions follows, each emitting off one of the finger bullets, all shrouding the Spirit in a screen of flames and smoke which the King watches with a wide grin, finding more enjoyment out of this battle with every blow traded. His attention however, in this short moment without a present threat, is raised up upon the notice of the great altitude he’s climbing, as a normal human without such supernatural control of his own anatomy would likely have been defeated simply from suffocation. He however does not fall in that default category, as his only immediate remedy is rather comical in that he takes in a deep breath before shutting his mouth, letting his cheeks puff up as though that simple breath would let him maintain oxygen when he was hardly still within the atmosphere.

The swiftness of the solution though has merit as just as his cheeks puff up, a figure bursts out of the smoke screen in the form of the Spirit, extending both of his hands out with every finger projecting a flaming stream outwards, each of which stop about fifteen feet far and expand into projectiles, though these are severely larger and have the classic shape of sharply tipped cylinders that identifies a missile. Furthermore, all ten of them autonomously fly straight for the King, firepower perhaps surplus for an opponent of traditional durability but one that wasn’t sure to be even effective on this one.

Keeping all the air inside his mouth, the King faces the ten incoming missiles as both of his gun hands revert with traditional palms, both of which turn the other way and stretch far towards the train, pulling him in a sharp turn in avoidance of the missiles though they all hone in pursuit of the captain who lets his right hand go, keeping his left hand gripping the metal wood of his vehicle though his left arm is now about twenty feet long. Letting himself swing with his left hand, he faces at the barrage of missiles with a smile as he waves his right hand, the arm also stretching though with more rigidity, and the more potent transfiguration is with the reshaping of the hand into an oval ring encasing a net which resembles a tennis racket though the size of a home which he then swings with all his might as the net material morphs to metal wire right before contact with all of the missiles simultaneously, causing them to all be knocked backwards now in the direction of the Spirit, about to explode on him yet again though this time he’s quick to fire a cable onto one of them to zip forward, dashing in precise movements to navigate through the field and reach the other side just as they all explode behind him, though now those explosions only serve to propel him closer to the King which the captain tries to exploit by swiftly shrinking his huge racket and transfiguring that hand into a trident which flashes into gold metal as he jabs it towards the Spirit who makes a slight downward dash to then grab the two outer prongs to swing his legs into the King and finally land a hard kick to the stomach, launching the King backwards whose air is knocked out of his mouth.

The current pursuit’s backdrop now no longer contains a shade of blue as the sky has fully blackened, or rather they’ve reached the cosmic outdoors, the white twinkling glitter of stars emergent to their full luminosity, for the white clouds of Earth have been replaced with the purple clouds of infinity.

In the motion of being kicked backwards, the King’s head is knocked back, allowing him to face up at the nightly sight occurring when day was right below him. His eyes widen with a sharp inhale as he’s presented with the timer, or rather the lack thereof. His focus however has to be brought forward to the Spirit who’s still charging at him, his right hand expelling a flame that elongates to form a pole or rather a spear from the emission of the tip made of black Anti-Exmatter energy.

Desperately, the King reverts his trident hand back with all five fingers which he aims at the Spirit, each of which begins stretching and expanding until reaching the width of his wrist to which they expand into the shape of another hand with a set of five fingers each of which stretch and expand into hands, swiftly reaching with eight hands that constantly multiply.

Those hands grab at the Spirit who quickly rotates his spear to function as a bo staff, defending himself from the many hands which grab onto the pole instead of him, suspending his motion as his black cape nearly collides with his blue back.

Without any air left in his mouth, the King has nothing to lose by opening it, knowing at this moment that a decisive counter would be more effective than seeking sustenance. That decisive counter is a rather nasty one in the form of his tongue which stretches like a snake, able to exploit the Spirit’s struggling focus to wrap around his body to which he groans in disgust before being flung in one direction as the tongue bends like a spine before then flinging the Spirit in the other direction towards the train itself.

He isn’t flung actionless though, as the Spirit is quick to relinquish his spear and fire his own cable into the King’s open mouth, pulling his body in the same direction towards the train, causing the two to collide on a course back. Immediately upon contact, the Spirit disengages his cable and grapples with the King whose many right hands remain tangled same as his tongue while he begins reeling in to his left arm as the Spirit’s flaming hands try to reach for the King’s face in an attempt to break away, though given the sheer chaos of the entanglement he’s unable to counter before the two collide straight into the train’s wall, which caves in immediately, throwing the two back inside the vehicle along with the chunks of metal wood and other debris, the battle being brought in the interior.

Also in the interior, though not in this car’s but another’s further down the train, takes place another battle without the natural bright blues and whites of day but rather the artificial screening footage from various feeds placed in a grid which surrounds a cube, a cube that surrounds the two combatants with the first being the senile bald man in the brown overcoat over the black jumpsuit: the Alchemist who stumbles backwards as he raises his makeshift handgun, pulling down the hammer right before pulling down the trigger which flares the copper wiring coiled around the barrel that expels a single yellow radiating bolt forth.

That radiating bolt soars down the security room, the walls exhibiting live footage of the various corridors and rooms encased in the many cars composing the full train, allowing sight of the many piles of bodies left behind of the beaten pirates from the prior skirmishes. What matters most is this current one however, as that bolt collides with a black katana blade angled to deflect it, the bolt’s excessive energy sparking off the metal side as the main body is split perfectly in half. The two halves change their trajectory outward from the initial path, narrowly missing the face of the man who glares with only one green eye, for the other is replaced with a single metal patch with illuminated purple edges similarly colored to his hair but a brighter shade than his hakama. His teeth are gritted with a silent but palpable rage in his expression as the yellow light slides from right in front of his face to the sides and away. Though at the same time, a sky blue bolt fires his way from the same direction, which the Swordsman prepares to deflect once more, though to his surprise that single bolt splinters into three right before reaching him.

While he manages to deflect one of the bolts, he staggers backwards due to the splintering and hastily leaps backwards in avoidance of the remainders, caught off guard and momentarily retreating off the bridge along the center of the cube, vanishing from sight.

Given a few moments out of direct engagement, the Alchemist stumbles forward and gains better footing, though there’s a lack of relief on his face for he knows he’s not truly safe and if anything he’s only more greatly endangered now that he has no sight of his opponent. All he can do is step forward, constantly pivoting himself and shifting his aim beneath him and above, movements frantic, truly focused on this battle without any of the former carelessness.

While he wanders aimlessly, waiting for the next strike as all he can do is remain on the central platform, he hears the voice of the Swordsman which echoes all the walls of the enclosed room, making direction difficult to discern: “After abandoning us and forcing him to put his everything into trying to manage for us, you just come back to break it all. I knew you were sadistic, Ekitai, but I didn’t think you were cruel.”

Immediately turning around and stumbling backwards though without any sight of the enemy, the Alchemist remains anxious and silent.

Albeit initially it seems he’s unconcerned about carrying a conversation given the imminent danger, a closer inspection of his face exposes the truth in that he’s simply struggling to determine the words to speak, his lips wavering tensely as his swollen cheekbones tighten, agonizing over the accusation but unable to combat it in words.

While perhaps the Alchemist cannot immediately respond, the voice of the Swordsman speaks again, “I’ve had a long time to try contemplating why you left, you gave us nothing to work off of. Gally and Mary were too heartbroken to think it logically, but you know I wouldn’t have shed a tear for that. That question did keep me up at night I’ll admit, many nights for many years, did you know actually we first assumed you were abducted? I remember like it was yesterday, when we first realized we couldn’t find you on the pod, we checked for your pinger but we found it in your room, and then we checked the footage to see if someone kidnapped you. That’s when we saw you toss that pinger on your bed and take the escape pod out in the middle of the night, I believe it was 3:23 A.M where we were flying over. Nobody else on board snatching you, just you acting on your own and leaving.”

At that moment, a blur flickers from the floor below up to the room’s wall, immediately catching the Alchemist’s attention who stumbles back as that blur launches off the wall straight for him, that blur being the Swordsman who grips a single katana in preparation for a swing to which his target takes aim, swipes his screen, and fires a triplet of dark shots that all automatically burst into puffy orbs of dark green smoke, forming a larger cloud that consumes the Swordsman.

Though as the cloud slowly dissipates, the Alchemist coughs with a closed mouth before his expression falls into greater terror upon noticing the lack of a body in sight which would’ve hopefully been disoriented, as instead the opponent miraculously evaded the strikes while he was exposed in the air.

Again without any sight of the opponent, the Alchemist is helpless against the resuming monologue, “At first, everyone believed there was some sort of manipulation going on, mind control, possession, it’s not like we haven’t been puppetted before. And after we confirmed the footage wasn’t tampered with, that’s the only sensible conclusion we had, or at least the only one Gally could fathom. You covered your tracks well Ekitai, I’ll give you that, I don’t even know if you knew about the search party we went on trying to find you, to ‘rescue you.’ Do you know how long that party went for? Years, Ekitai, can you imagine? Those years you spent with your new playmates, going on any adventures you want, and Gally was trying to sniff out any loose thread he could thinking you were somewhere out there begging to be rescued?”

Just then from below the floor, that blur soars up, this time higher as it reaches one of the topmost platforms housing only singular desks. The black silhouette looms for not even a full second as its green eye flares, and yet instantly the Alchemist’s jaw drops as he turns around to face up, able to sense the incoming attacks. He aims and fires a frosty bolt just as the silhouette launches off the platform with that same blade raised for a swing, yet that blade first collides with that frosty bolt which envelops the black blade in a box of ice perfectly rectangular, like a sheath in that it immediately neutralizes the danger of the blade.

Though in a single movement after registering that counter with an enraged grimace, the Swordsman lets go of the blade with his left hand to swipe at his hip and unsheath a second blade which he swings vertically in a wheel at the Alchemist for a rebound, only missing by the Alchemist’s swift roll away from the table he was hiding by.

Right as the Alchemist rolls back to his feet, he glances back to watch the table’s surface abruptly detach from a clean cut straight through, causing the two halves to collapse despite their material being solid metal. Though just upon that registration, the Swordsman who’s landed on the bridge springs back to his feet, using his left katana to swiftly slash his right katana’s blade such that the ice block instantly shatters into countless shards like glass, calling the Alchemist’s attention to the now-charging Swordsman wielding both katanas who he fires at with a bolt that immediately dissolves into a powerful sonar wave that projects straight at the Swordsman, pushing back against him like wind as the deafening shriek rings his ears, momentarily leaving him vulnerable.

Facing down at the exposed opponent, the Alchemist adjusts his aim for the head and pulls the hammer down, prepared to fire the next shot. Though as his irises reflect the image of the man who only had one, he halts his next action, instead freezing up with his only ability being to exhale which he does profusely.

In that extended pause, the deafening sound fades out, and the pained grimace on the Swordsman transitions into a determined glare that then dashes towards.

On instinct, the Alchemist staggers back and fires another bolt this time angled down towards the ground which bursts out a gray foam that expands rapidly upwards in formation of a wall just as the Swordsman swings both blades horizontally for the neck, although both are caught by the foam which wraps around the blades. The two do stretch the wall, pushing it towards the Alchemist’s throat which he staggers back again from, though the padding renders them again nonlethal.

As the wall hardens, leaving the two deformations in place, the Alchemist takes a deep breath and swerves around the barrier with aim for a counterattack.

That aim, while intended to point towards the logical position of the opponent, serves pointless as there is no opponent visible, for on the other side of the foam wall on the bridge is nothing, not even the katanas that deformed it.

Again, vanishing like a ghost, the Swordsman is nowhere to be seen to the Alchemist’s greatening anxiety given his stumble back, but what further terrifies him is that continuing taunting echoing in all directions hauntingly: “Even to this day, Gally still believed you were out there somewhere, and that one day he’d find you. He wanted to keep searching, hell you might’ve been the best chance at him throwing his dreams away, and it took a while for him to finally start focusing on something other than you. Though hmm, now you got me curious, maybe he still thinks you’re under mind control. Maybe he thinks you’re still enslaved, possessed, and you’re back destroying all of this against your own will. If it was him and not me, I promise you he’d be begging you to ‘remember who you are,’ to ‘fight the control,’ to ‘free yourself.’ But don’t worry, I’ll spare you of that. Because I know you,” just as that shadow springs up from one of the upper desks behind the Alchemist who turns around, locking eye contact as that shadow launches at him for direct contact.