He was impressed.

As he watched Dragan Hadrien flail at the currents of the world, he couldn’t help but smile -- well, if this current shape had a mouth, he surely would have smiled. But the emotion was there, the intent. Yes… the intent was the most important thing. He truly believed that.

When playing a game of the galaxy, it would only do to make your own pieces -- and those pieces had to be of the finest quality. There was no piece quite as effective than one that believed itself the player. Here, watching from so very close, Niain could see what he’d been hoping for.

Indeed… he was impressed.

Paradise Charon had crossed the final boundary between human and donut.

Dragan's barrage of Gemini Railgun had completely annihilated the center of her chest, destroying her heart and blasting a hole clear through her body. Smoke poured from the former Contender's mouth as she toppled backwards, slipping on her own blood. Her eyes rolled back up into her head…

…then snapped back down.

“Sorry,” she hissed, a crazed grin spreading across her face. “I don't work like that anymore.”

If he had eyes right now, Dragan Hadrien surely would have widened them. He went to retreat fully back into Gemini World, but Charon was faster -- angry branches burst out from her shoulders and wrapped themselves around Dragan's disembodied arm. He went to record himself anyway, but thorns from the branches dug into his flesh, muddling the infusion and preventing him from activating his ability.

With a scream of fury, Paradise pulled Dragan's arm out of the belly of the Tower, dragging it along the crumbling walls of the Forest before slamming it down onto the ground.

The Tower itself resumed firing at Charon's back, but she produced another tendril from the Temple of Sin to counter. Rather than blocking the attacks like she had before -- which had allowed the nano-automatics to hatch -- she parried them with swift and precise slashes of her new limb. The Tower would come up with a countermeasure before long, but she had time to act now.

After receiving what should have been a fatal blow, Paradise Charon's hood had been blown back, and now Dragan could see her face clearly. He wished he couldn't.

Her face had half-melted and then solidified, warping and stretching her features like she was wearing an ill-fitting mask. Her teeth were spreading unnaturally out of the sides of her mouth, veins of tooth enamel crawling up her cheeks like an extended and deluded smile. One eye was filled to the brim with blood, like a water balloon, while the other eye had shriveled up inside the socket -- red petals surrounding it and holding it in place.

Was that face the result of the Supreme Heir's ability, Dragan wondered, or the result of Charon's method of recovery?

He supposed it didn't matter where the face had come from. Either way, it was coming to kill him.

Roots spread out from the branches grasping Dragan's arm, covering it in a heavy and thick cocoon of wood. With a snap, Charon released it from her grip -- allowing it to fall onto the floor. She put a foot atop her prize as she regarded the Tower.

It seemed she'd managed to regain her composure -- and she quickly used that composure against the automatic. With almost contemptuous fluidity, she raised a hand towards the firing machine and spoke softly:

“Forest of Sin.”

The wooden landscape around them vanished into a haze of green -- and instantly, the Forest emerged from her hand again. This time, it was concentrated, the entire nightmare focused into a few meters of matter. It slammed into and buried the Tower within its bulk, restraining it as well.

“I don't know how you started to destroy my Forest of Sin,” Paradise purred, flipping her hood back up. “But if I use it like this, it's much more durable. Good luck.”

She looked back down at Dragan's trapped arm.

“And as for you, little Mr. Hadrien,” she grinned. “The rest of you is hiding nearby, right? I think you should know… right now, my Forest is injecting your flesh with a simply atrocious poison. You've proven to have quite the unusual body yourself, so I doubt it'll kill you… but oh, it'll hurt. Let's see how long you can hold on for.”

She wasn't lying. Dragan could feel the thorns driving deeper into his arm, releasing their payload, something burning through his veins. If he had a face, it would have been covered in sweat. The pain was already building, turning in on itself, growing exponentially.

As Paradise Charon waited patiently, the massive hole in her chest began to fill in. Roots of the Forest of Sin crawled out from the edges of the wound, replacing missing flesh with gnarled black-and-red bark. Her heart had been destroyed, to be sure, but Dragan supposed that didn't really matter anymore.

If he wanted results, he'd have to destroy her brain.

If he wanted results, he couldn't wait any longer.

Gemini World.

The moment the rest of Dragan's body fizzled back into existence, Paradise turned her head nearly all the way around to regard him. Her bloody eye narrowed in pleasure at the sight of her prey.

“There you are,” she breathed.

“Here I am,” Dragan agreed.

He'd manifested the rest of his body separately from his captured limb, blue Aether fizzling at the edge of the stump of his left arm. He had limited options right now. The cocoon surrounding his arm was strong enough that it wouldn't break with a quick Gemini Railgun, whether it was from the inside or outside.

His gaze flicked over to the super condensed lump of Sin that had encased the Arcana Automatic. It would take time for even the Tower to break free of that -- and when it did, it would treat Dragan as an enemy as well. It might even prioritize him, given their earlier encounter.

Still, it wasn't all bad. The fact that the Forest was occupied restraining the Tower meant that Paradise couldn't bring her full force to bear against him. If he could press the advantage before the Tower escaped, he could win.

Although… would she die, even if Dragan knocked her head off? He'd destroyed her heart just now, and it had done nothing. Dragan would die if his heart was destroyed, even if his regeneration would restore the organ for his corpse.

“Dead boy,” said Pan, stepping out of Dragan's shadow. Her gaze was locked onto Paradise as well. “That thing will keep moving no matter how hardly you hit it. It's no good.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

What are you basing that on? Dragan raised an eyebrow.

Pan sniffed the air, her nostrils flaring as she glared at the black branches. “It's no good,” she repeated, shaking her head.

Well, if Pan said so, that was that. Dragan shifted his footing slightly, switching into a stance for close-range combat. With one arm out of commission, he'd have to rely mostly on kicks… but he still had his tricks.

Pan, Dragan said. We're going for Plan B. Get ready.

Pan's lips spread into the slightest smile. “I'm always ready, dead boy,” she said. “Are you?”

He's plotting something, the Forest of Sin advised, myriad voices babbling in Paradise's head. You should attack him. Don't give him the chance. Surprise attack! Take him by surprise. Kill him. This is your chance. What are you waiting for?

Paradise narrowed her good eye as she shook her head slightly. “Shut up,” she growled.

She wasn't about to start taking battle advice from her own ability -- and besides, this was good for her.

The agony from the Forest's venom would only compound itself over time. The longer Dragan Hadrien tried to stall affairs, the more pain he'd accumulate -- and the more it would disrupt his fighting. Before long, he wouldn't be able to do anything but writhe on the ground… and in that moment, Paradise would finish this.

Do you really think it'll be that easy? Optimistic. Optimism is a virtue. No, it's a vice. Too good to be true! Are you sure? What are you talking about? Let's do it!

“Shut up!” Paradise roared, crimson eyeball bulging from its socket --

-- and Dragan Hadrien chose that as his moment.

The clash between the two was not especially long, but a true struggle between life and death rarely is. Like wild animals, they moved in to kill each other. Like wild animals, the crowd cheered in response.

Dragan recorded many of his internal organs to reduce his weight, increasing his speed as he darted in with a jab at Paradise's face. It didn't land. Before his fist could make contact, a branch from the Temple of Sin lashed out at him, slashing at his chest and spilling his blood onto the ground. He quickly retreated backwards before it could press the advantage…

…just as Paradise had expected.

Another branch from the Temple of Sin, hidden earlier, burst out from the ground in a spiral pattern, attempting to wrap itself around Dragan's legs. Immediately, he recorded them, successfully avoiding the fate that had befallen his left arm.

He floated over the ground like a genie, his bottom half a cloud of fizzling Aether -- only his torso, head and right arm remaining extant in the world. They were enough. Hell, he might not have even needed those.

Gemini Railgun.

The attack fired from two locations -- Dragan's own body, and the blood he'd spilled on the ground. He'd taken a page out of Muzazi's book, infusing his own blood so he could use it as the source of an attack.

Paradise slashed the first shot out of the air as she threw herself out of the way of the second, branch-tentacles dragging her along like a puppet. As she moved across the border of the arena, a thick confluence of roots amassed over her shoulder and -- like a mini gun -- began to fire a volley of razor-sharp leaves at Dragan.

She clearly hadn't learnt her lesson.

Not a single one of the projectiles reached Dragan, instead fizzling away into blue Aether before they could make contact. The slightest smirk spread across the Cogitant’s lips. Ranged attacks were basically useless against him -- no, worse than useless, as they just gave him more ammunition to retaliate with.

Like so.

Gemini Railgun.

Blood.

He fired the leaves right back -- but this time, they did not strike Paradise Charon. In fact, they didn't move more than a meter from Dragan himself. Blood oozed copiously down onto the floor. His own blood. Slowly, he looked.

The instant he'd fired those leaves back, they had changed shape -- sharp roots planting themselves down into the ground and holding the projectiles in place. Then, they had struck. Branches had lanced in from each and every one of the leaves, and each and every one of them had hit their target.

Right now, Dragan Hadrien was impaled by nearly twenty branches -- like jagged spider legs, slowly raising him up off the ground. Paradise's Aether was pouring from the newborn plants into Dragan's body, preventing him from retreating into Gemini World. He was trapped.

More than that, though… he could feel more of that poison seeping into his body from the attacks. The pain pulsing through his veins was building up to a crescendo. For a moment, Dragan bit his tongue, trying to hold it all in --

-- but no.

Dragan screamed, the noise bloodcurdling, flailing as the countless branches raised him up higher and higher, their thorns digging into his flesh. His eyes were wide as his head thrashed aimlessly at the sky, lost in agony, blood spilling from each and every wound.

Ruth reached out -- seizing Bruno's arm before he could leave the observation booth. His face red with rage, he swung around to face her.

“I'm going down there,” he snarled.

Ruth silently shook her head. Her own jaw was clenched as she listened to those noises -- those screams -- echoing through the arena. Her nostrils flared… but she stood still.

Bruno pulled at his arm, but her grip was like a vice. “You're just gonna let this happen?!” he demanded.

“If you go down there,” Ruth said quietly, full of false calm, her eyes burning. “They'll kill you.”

Unbeknownst to either of them, however, they were being observed. The attention of Rae Ruditia was focused on them, rather than the match happening below. Her eyes were narrowed, just slightly. Whatever she was seeing from Ruth Blaine right now…

…she didn't seem too impressed.

“The reason you lost,” rasped Paradise Charon, striding over to the suspended Dragan. “Is arrogance. You underestimated me, didn't you? You thought I only had one masterstroke prepared.”

Like a dying fish, Dragan gasped silently in the air.

Good, Paradise thought with a creaking smirk. That's how someone like you learns their lesson. A final humiliation.

She reached out a hand -- and the Temple of Sin crawled out of her palm, forming a mighty spear of Apex wood in her grip. For a moment, she idly twirled it -- before aiming it right at Dragan Hadrien's temple. It befit a fish like this to be skewered.

“Goodnight, my Shooting Star,” Paradise sneered.

She thrust the spear upwards --

-- and Dragan Hadrien's head snapped down to look at her… and he struck with his own spear.

It wasn't a spear of wood, like Charon's, nor was it something he held in his hand. Instead it lunged out of his mouth like a sickly frozen tongue, a blade of dark orange matter that whipped past Charon's weapon and struck her in the throat. It wasn't surprising that it caught Paradise by surprise, and slipped through her guard.

After all, who could have predicted a spear of solidified, infused Panacea crawling out of Hadrien's mouth?

It wasn't a kill shot, but that was fine. It had pierced Charon's flesh. It had made contact with the thing living inside her, the thing keeping her alive. The Temple of Sin.

That was all Pan needed.

For those in the crowd, for those glued to their videographs, for each and every spectator -- save one -- the events to come barely lasted a second. But for those directly involved?

…everything went black…

…and everything went orange…

…and everything went red…