Clad in newfound armour, Nael Manron sighed, voice distorted by his own Aether --

“I felt that one…” he said quietly. “...my turn.”

-- and the King of Killers lunged forward, swinging a fist of solid steel.

Muzazi ducked under it, a thruster blasting out from the back of his head to speed its descent, but there was no need. The attack was slow. Skilled as Nael Manron was, by the time his fist had reached Muzazi, the Full Moon could have dodged three times over. The sweeping kick he attempted next was similarly sluggish -- Muzazi cartwheeled over the attack and retreated to the back of the truck.

Nael’s red eyes followed Muzazi’s movement. It wasn’t just that he was slow, then, but more that he was… heavy.

Thump. Thump.

The footsteps confirmed it. It wasn’t as if Nael had gained any additional mass by wrapping his weapon around himself, so this had to be a condition to his defensive ability. By taking on a burden that would slow down his movements and reduce his offensive capability, he gained the absurd durability needed to withstand a direct hit from Radiant Almighty.

Muzazi looked his opponent’s new form up and down. He couldn’t see any gaps in the tightly-wrapped armour, no weak points he could target with his Radiants. As he looked though, he did see the armour start to unwrap, Shamichoro returning to its attack form.

He couldn’t allow that.

Muzazi charged in again, striking Nael with a barrage of Radiant-blows. Needless to say, they did no damage, but the King of Killers had no choice but to keep his armour in place. The last thing Muzazi wanted was for his opponent to remove this absolute shield. If he did that, things would reset back to the way they were a few minutes ago -- and Muzazi would have shed his blood for nothing.

This armour truly was invincible. With the space provided, Muzazi didn’t have the time to charge up an attack that would get through it. The armour could not be broken…

…but the man inside was another story.

As Nael brought both his fists in to smash his chest, Muzazi lunged forward -- grabbing those metal hands in his own and beginning to push. His face turned red with exertion as he struggled with the King of Killers, both of them trying to force the other back towards the edge. Thrusters exploded out of his back to increase his pushing force further, but progress was agonizingly slow -- Nael’s feet were only slowly scraping against the carriage. He was using all his strength too, after all. He understood what Atoy Muzazi was thinking.

Nael's armoured hands glowed red from the sheer heat of the thrusters Muzazi was exuding. Muzazi narrowed his eyes.

Even if none of Muzazi’s attacks would work, a fall from this height -- into the pits of Azum-Ha itself -- would kill anything that lived.

“Damn… you…” Nael hissed as they slowly, slowly, agonizingly slowly… reached the edge.

They would go no further, though. Nael had dug his toes into the metal below, pinpoint Aether boosting their strength while the armour protected the rest of his body. A final stalemate had been reached.

So Atoy Muzazi simply swooped down and cleanly sliced away the part of the roof Manron was standing on.

It wasn't as dramatic as he'd expected. One second, Nael was there -- and the next, he'd dropped out of sight, plunging into the darkness below. Some of the Emerald Eyes flew down to follow him, but most just continued to circle the truck. They wanted a good shot of their winner, after all.

Atoy Muzazi let out a sigh of relief --

-- and Nael Manron dropkicked him in the back.

Crack.

Everything Muzazi did in that next moment was instinct. There was no time for conscious thought to spark, and no room for it to find purchase among the pain. As he went flying off the back of the truck, Muzazi scrambled, arms flailing in the air -- finally seizing hold of the edge of the roof with his right hand, barely keeping his grip.

Reason returned. Muzazi went to pull himself up, to leap back into the fight… but he wasn't so blessed. Shamichoro's strings whipped through the air and sliced the fingers from the hand clean away.

Atoy Muzazi fell.

NO!

Nael Manron wasn't the only one who could use pinpoint Aether. Muzazi flooded all of his Aether into the fingers from his left hand -- and dug them into the side of the carriage, leaving long jagged trails like they were claws. The wind battered against him, each new gust threatening to send him flying off like discarded paper. The rain and the exhaust were such that he could barely even see.

But he was alive, even if the duration of that life still remained to be seen.

Nael Manron, freed from his armour, glared down at Muzazi from atop the truck. Now that he had a second to think, he understood what Manron had done. Clearly, the King of Killers could think as quickly as the Full Moon to avoid death. As he'd fallen, Manron had undone his armour, latched onto the bottom of the truck with a string -- and swung all the way around to attack Muzazi from behind.

Muzazi would have been impressed, if he weren't in so much agony. Blood poured from the stumps of his fingers down into the darkness. White flashes of Aether popped like firecrackers as he used thrusters to stop the bleeding… but that didn't do much for the pain.

“Atoy Muzazi…” Nael murmured, looking down at his opponent with disdain. “You think you're hanging on by a thread there, don't you? You don't get it.”

Muzazi tried to pull himself upwards -- but the strings of Shamichoro slashed against the metal above him, sending sparks raining down.

“You fell a long time ago, friend,” Nael hissed, his blood-red eyes a stark contrast to his now porcelain-white skin. “Me too. It's time we accept it and let ourselves hit the ground.”

“That's what you want?” Muzazi asked, wincing as another shower of sparks rained down. “You want to ‘hit the ground’?”

“You'll kill me,” Nael explained slowly. “And I'll kill you. We'll vanish from this world without a trace. It's what filth like us deserves.”

“Well…” Muzazi narrowed his eyes. “You've got half of that right.”

Thrusters -- on.

It was true that Nael had cut off Muzazi's fingers, but the Full Moon wasn't just going to let them go. In the moment they'd been severed, Muzazi had infused them with his Aether -- and now, all at the same time, he activated the thrusters he'd planted on them. Like guided missiles, they zoomed at Manron from every direction.

“Shamichoro,” Nael said calmly, not even looking at the incoming attacks. “Bachigawa.”

Lightning fast, the strings wrapped around his body again, encasing him in that indomitable armour. The fingers clashed against the steel, thrusters bursting out from the back of them as they relentlessly continued to try and push through their target. Even with his face concealed, Muzazi could tell that Nael Manron was sneering down at him.

“This is it?” he mocked. “Did you think a surprise attack would break through Bachigawa?”

“No,” Muzazi admitted, tightening his grip on the truck. “There's no way those thrusters can get through that armour.”

“Then…”

“They don't need to get through anything,” he finished, grinning a weary grin. “All they need to do… is burn.”

The secondary thrusters exploded into life, each blasting out from the tip of a finger. Zero pushing force and maximum heat -- all of it pouring directly into the metal armour before it. It quickly began to glow an angry orange… and then a fiery red.

“I noticed the effect the heat had on your armour when I was pushing you,” Muzazi said, watching as Nael writhed up above. “Feel free to take it off if you're overheated… that is, if you don't mind the attack hitting you.”

An attack of heat if Nael left the armour on. An attack of force if Nael took the armour off. Muzazi had positioned his fingers so that they couldn't be easily removed or destroyed. By the time the King of Killers got hold of them, the damage would have already been done.

Muzazi had won.

Hadn't he?

What happened next was a desperate gamble on Nael Manron's part.

Back in the museum, Muzazi had hesitated to use an Aether ping because he was worried about dropping his defenses. He'd been right to be concerned: Nael had intended on chopping his head off the instant he sent that pulse out. Only his caution had kept him alive.

However… that wasn't something Nael had to worry about. As Shamichoro was keeping his body safe, he could let loose an Aether ping without any concern at all. He could let loose a hundred without losing the tiniest bit of durability.

But why would he do that?

Because of the driver. The person operating this vehicle. Nael had speculated that they were either one of the Eight Phases or an automatic. If they were an automatic, then this maneuver would be useless. Nael Manron would waste his last chance, and he would die.

But if they were one of the Phases…

Aether ping.

Manron's crimson Aether screamed across his surroundings, bathing them in a brief and bloody glow. He had chosen his moment impeccably, even through the haze of pain.

When an Aether ping struck an unprepared Aether-user, there was an involuntary response. They froze up, just for a second, and their own Aether sparked in retaliation against the contact. Ordinarily, that time would only be useful for locating hiding opponents.

Ordinarily, that was the case. However, at the very instant Nael Manron had sent out that pulse of Aether…

…the truck was right in the middle of a turn.

The turn was not finished. Nael Manron's gamble paid off. The driver was frozen for just the briefest moment -- and in that moment, instead of turning, the truck just kept going forward --

-- smashing through the building before it.

Black.

Unconsciousness or death? Nael Manron could not decide which one this was, nor which one he'd prefer. Many times he’d felt the pull of the latter, but somehow he’d remained on his feet. His feet, coated with blood, atop a pile of bodies.

What a mess.

White.

He opened his eyes. He was back home. Everything was as it once was. Fields of rolling green, and the capitol standing proud above all. The embodiment of justice and righteousness. Rotting corpses in place of cement, holding the buildings together. Everyone did their part.

“Nael,” said a voice.

He turned around. There, she was standing. There, she was smiling. There, she was speaking.

Wait. That wasn’t right.

“Nael,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Nael,” she said.

“What? What is it?”

Her smile widened.

“I betrayed you and you deserved to be betrayed,” she said. “You were a fool to imagine otherwise.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

They were crawling over his skin. They were crawling over his throat. He opened his mouth and they found entry. “Don’t say that.”

“I betrayed you and you deserved to be betrayed,” she repeated, more mockingly this time, her smile becoming a crescent-moon smirk. “You were a fool to imagine otherwise.”

“Stop!” he screamed, turning to run -- only to smack face-first into the chest of the towering Prester Garth. Wide blank eyes like lanterns stared down at him without pity. When the head of the Regulators spoke, the smell of death poured from his rotting mouth.

“I betrayed you and you deserved to be betrayed,” he growled, maggots eating their way out of his eyes. “You were a fool to imagine otherwise.”

The sky was falling, shards skewering everyone below. His men… the ones he’d led into battle… sliced to pieces by the true nature of the world. Tongues of flame plucked their heads from their shoulders.

“I betrayed you and you deserved to be betrayed,” the sky laughed. “You were a fool to imagine otherwise.”

“I betrayed you and you deserved to be betrayed,” the land laughed. “You were a fool to imagine otherwise.”

“I betrayed you and you deserved to be betrayed,” the world laughed. “You were a fool to imagine otherwise.”

It was always only at the end of this dream that Nael realized this wasn’t his first time experiencing it. The same every night. The same fear, pain, betrayal… and fruitless realization. The flies filled him.

They were home.

They were fused at the wrist. Atoy Muzazi and Marie Hazzard. Orange crystal, like the sap of a tree, binding them in place. It was a good thing, too -- when you kept the abyss in mind.

Scrambling onn the edge of the cliff, Muzazi pulled with all his strength, tears and sweat streaming down his face. It wasn’t enough. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn’t get Marie up. She was going to fall. She was going to fall, and there was nothing he could do but lay there and cry.

Pathetic. Unforgivable. It should have been him.

“Atoy,” Marie said seriously, looking at him. “█ ████ ███.”

“I know,” he replied, tugging at her hand. “I know, I know, but…”

The sun was coming down. Not just setting, but crashing into the surface of Panacea, shattering like an egg as it went. Somehow, it was still turning cold. Cracks were beginning to form, too, in the crystal holding them together.

“No!” Muzazi screamed, as if his protests alone would hold it together. “No, no no no, no!”

“Atoy,” Marie said again, her red eyes still locked onto his grey. “█ ████ ███.”

“We can talk about that later!” Muzazi insisted. “Just hold on!”

He pulled even more, pulled with such force that old wounds began to open up across his arm -- and the blood began to stream down freely. That only made it more slippery. The rain began to fall, and it too was red. It too was blood.

“NO!” Muzazi roared.

“Atoy,” Marie snapped -- with surprising force, a fire burning in her eyes. “█ ████ ███, but…”

Clarity brought the world into perspective, the true perspective, gravity revealing itself. Marie wasn’t hanging off the cliff… Muzazi was. And the only thing keeping him from falling was that fragile little crystal.

“...you have to let go,” Marie said.

It was always only at the end that Muzazi realized. The same dream… once again.

The crystal broke.

After the chaotic first match of the night, it had taken Ruth a while to find her crew and get them back together. For most of a horrifying hour, it had looked like they’d even lost their client too, but they eventually managed to meet back up with Rae Ruditia. With all that had happened, Ruth felt like she’d been on the verge of a dozen heart attacks tonight.

Dragan… the surrender… the killings, clearly for his benefit. The gruesome fight between Mereloco and Tealin Jade certainly hadn’t helped with the frantic atmosphere.

Even so, Ruth couldn’t stop to process everything, buried as she was in the crowd. Surrounded by the rest of Road and Restorossi, she could do nothing but look up with the rest of the galaxy at the monitors above. For the last few minutes, they’d been displaying the battle between Atoy Muzazi and Nael Manron from various angles.

Now, though?

Now they were showing two bodies, lying on the ground a short distance from each other, with the smoking wreckage of a truck between them. The crash had been tremendous -- the vehicle smashing right through the wall of the building before it and hurling its occupants before the Renée the Raven memorial.

The statue of the Black Supreme was a menacing sight -- clad in a beaked mask and a feathered cloak, looking down imposingly. In life, she had wielded fearsome abilities called the Three Deaths: the Petty Death, the Majestic Death, and the Absolute Death. Even after death had found her, though, the founder of the Absurd Weapons Lab still seemed like a judge, looking down at the living with casual contempt.

Looking down at the two prone contestants.

Ruth realized that she was holding her breath. It was strange -- she’d fought against both Atoy Muzazi and Nael Manron in the past. She hadn’t particularly expected to root for one over the other, but… for some reason, she found herself wishing for the Full Moon to get up first.

That was the way things were, after all. Both of the fighters had clearly been knocked unconscious. The one who woke up first… would be the one to win.

The man they called Roman Hitch shoveled popcorn into his mouth as he watched the battle on the videograph. The boss-lady Ruth Blaine and the rest of Road and Restorossi had left him behind to guard the base-of-operations they’d turned their hotel room into, which suited him well enough. Diligent effort bored him to tears more often than not.

As he watched the bodies on the monitor slowly twitch back into consciousness, he narrowed his eyes.

“C’mon now, Mr. Muzazi,” he muttered. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Atoy Muzazi opened his eyes.

Everything hurt, but that was nothing new. Until the battle was over, he couldn’t permit himself to acknowledge the pain. He slowly rose to his feet. Where his body failed to perform, he used thrusters to compensate. A Radiant bloomed forth from his least damaged hand.

Where was he? The memorial to Renée the Raven. Good. That was still on the route he’d preplanned, so they hadn’t gone too far.

Muzazi’s vision blurred in and out, but he eventually managed to force it into clarity. Nael Manron was lying on the other side of the statue, sprawled out in a gruesome-looking heap. Still good. That meant he was the first to regain consciousness. He took a step forward on legs shaking like those of a baby deer.

The truck was a wreck, flames pouring from its carriage. For a moment, alarm spiked through Muzazi’s heart -- but no, he needn’t have worried. Morgan Nacht dashed unharmed out of the flames, save for a singed-looking cloak. That new H ability had helped him recover from the damage, no doubt.

He skidded in next to Muzazi, holding out a hand glowing with purple Aether. “Want me to…?”

“No,” Muzazi firmly shook his head, even as blood dribbled from his mouth. “It needs to be my victory. No healing.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Three kicks were all it took for Marcus Grace to escape from the driver’s cabin. Blood running down a cut on his forehead, he climbed out of the upturned truck and made his way over to his comrades. “Sorry, boss,” he muttered, wiping the blood away. “He got me good.”

“It’s fine,” Muzazi replied. “If he was an easy opponent, there’d be no need for all of this.”

Ba…dump. Ba… dump.

Like when he’d fought against King, he focused his Aether -- his thrusters -- on his heart, making it beat faster, more passionately. Some semblance of strength poured into his bones, and the shaking in his legs stopped. He stood up taller.

Atoy Muzazi could still fight. He stepped forward.

“And you!” he called out, pointing his Radiant at the figure on the ground. “I know you’re already awake. You can’t fool me!”

For a moment, Nael remained still on the ground. Then, realizing the jig was up, he began to pick himself up from the ground. His long white hair was stained red by his own blood.

“Damn…” he chuckled. “You’re ice cold. You have a nice nap?”

Muzazi did not reply. His mind was still rushing through the preplanned route. The famous memorial to Renée the Raven… that was where he’d positioned one of his most loyal subordinates. That, at least, was auspicious.

He caught a glimpse of his ally in the distant shadows, a hulking wooden figure with a build like a gorilla. Where an ordinary being would have a face, there was only a smooth square indentation in the bark. Muzazi smiled. It had been a while since the Last Fell Beast had sent out a humanoid extension of itself.

“Ionir,” he said. “As we discussed.”

Nael’s head whipped around, but too late -- Ionir Ygdrassil pushed its arms forth, and those arms exploded into life, massive branches encircling the two opponents and isolating them. Within the span of a few seconds, Ionir had created a mighty wooden dome around Muzazi and Nael. Glowing orange leaves hung in the air around them, providing some modicum of light.

Morgan, Marcus, and Ionir itself had been left outside as planned. They’d need to guard against Nael’s inevitable reinforcements. For this to be a true victory… it had to end with one man against another.

Now that he got a good look, Muzazi could see that Nael definitely hadn’t escaped their earlier clash unscathed either. His body and face were covered in vicious burns, and he wasn’t holding Shamichoro anymore.

Nael seemed to notice where Muzazi was looking. “You destroyed my Guardian Entity in the crash,” he explained. “It’s gonna take some time to regenerate.”

Muzazi raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.” He had no doubt that this was a bluff -- intended to make Muzazi lower his guard so Nael could get a cheap shot in.

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not,” Nael replied, beginning to walk forward. “You’re gonna be dead in a few minutes anyway.”

“On that, we agree.”

Muzazi stepped forward, too, to meet his opponent. The Radiant flickered away, vanishing from his hand. His nerves and body were at their limit. There was only so much he was still capable of. Best to save whatever Radiants he could still muster for the moment he needed them.

They stepped forward.

“I’ve suffered extreme damage,” Muzazi said honestly. “I can’t reliably produce swords anymore.”

They stepped forward.

“I don’t believe you,” Nael replied.

They stepped forward.

Muzazi smirked. “As you said… I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not.”

They entered each other’s range.

Nael’s fist slammed into Muzazi’s temple, and Muzazi’s fist smashed into Nael’s jaw. Saliva and blood were spat in two directions as they both staggered back -- and then stepped in, unleashing a flurry of furious blows. It was a dance of carnage, strikes becoming blocks becoming grabs becoming twists.

Nael screamed in pain as Muzazi nearly snapped his left wrist with a vicious application of force, and Muzazi gasped for breath as Nael jabbed at the scar on his throat. Muzazi caught one of Nael’s kicks, bringing his elbow down like a hammer towards the joint -- and Nael only just broke free by pulling his leg back in. Muzazi spun, still using his elbow, jabbing it at Nael’s face -- and Nael barely caught it in his hand.

“You’re getting tired, Muzazi,” Nael grinned madly, his teeth stained with his own blood. “Tired and predic --”

Thrusters -- on.

Flames rushed forth from Muzazi’s elbow, burning a hole right through the hand that had caught it. As Nael recoiled, Muzazi spun once more, unleashing a devastating roundhouse kick that sent the King of Killers flying. As his opponent crashed onto the ground a short distance away, the Full Moon let out a breath that felt more blood than air.

Even with that blow, however, Nael just chuckled -- his voice muffled against the floor.

“Damn…” he laughed. “Damn. What a mess. You really are strong, aren’t you? I should start going all-out too.”

Muzazi adjusted his stance, ready to receive whatever the next blow might be. “I already told you…” he said, breathless. “Your bluffs won’t work against me. You’re wasting your time.”

“True, true…” Nael groaned, rising to his feet. “Good thing I’m not bluffing, then.”

Red Aether crackled.

In that moment, Atoy Muzazi knew that Nael Manron was telling the truth.

In that moment, Atoy Muzazi knew that something terrible was about to happen.

In that moment, Atoy Muzazi knew that he had to move.

But too late. Far too late.

Nael Manron, pale as a skeleton, looked up with eyes of spite.

“Guardian Entity,” he spat. “Hachiman.”

Zephyr Pandershi, founder and scientist-dictator of the Pandershi Foundation, would later come to write of this battle. The Guardian Entities were a brief fascination of his, and he described them as such:

“Among the Guardian Entities, just as with humans, there exists both mediocrity and greatness. There is no shortage of worthless abilities, packed into Gene Tyrant leftovers, their users ignorant of just how much they have squandered the opportunity before them. When properly crafted, a Guardian Entity is capable of producing and controlling Aether far more potent than their user could manage alone.”

Space tore itself open behind Nael, forming a jagged gap into a dark abyss. For a moment, Muzazi thought that it would start sucking the world in -- that it would start devouring reality behind it -- but no. What happened was worse.

Something started climbing out.

“My own experiments have produced many potent beasts of war. But these are still beings that can be matched by the strength of an ordinary Aether-user. What I desire is the insurmountable. What I covet is the divine. Any common wolf can kill with its teeth. The Guardian Entities I admire embody the apotheosis of their craft.

Among the Guardian Entities, only three are known to have reached the apex of heaven.”

A skull wormed its way out of the darkness. At a glance, one might think it used to be human, but no. Solid bone covered where eye sockets should have been. Its rictus grin was far too wide, and far too sharp. Cold smoke rose from the back of its head.

As it opened its mouth, a worm-like tongue tasted the air, and did not seem to enjoy it.

“There is Raijū, belonging to the former Lily Aubrisher, the master of lightning…”

Four skeletal arms, with muscles of woven straw wrapped around the joints. Each bony hand clutched a killing instrument -- a sword in one, a spear in another, and a massive bow in the remaining two. All made of wood, but one look was enough to see that they’d be more than sufficient to kill.

A flame burnt within its ribcage, the spark of life on open display.

“...there is Hiruko, the primordial ooze, recorded in last year’s incident on Hexkay…”

As the Guardian Entity emerged fully from the portal, it did not snap shut behind it. Instead, the gap in space shifted shape, falling like cloth… and becoming a jet-black cloak that wrapped around the specter’s shoulders. The thing had no bottom half, and so the closest thing it had to legs was the bottom of the cloak-shaped hole, brushing against the floor.

The statue of Renee the Raven towered above it, but even so… the Guardian Entity felt like the greater reaper.

Its grin widened as it saw Muzazi.

“...and then there is dread Hachiman -- the God of Murder.”

Nael Manron looked up, and his eyes were void.

“Die.”