Two Hundred Years Ago…

“Mereloco,” Damon said seriously. “I'm going to become Supreme.”

He stood atop one of the pillar-mountains of their homeworld, Mirz, the sea of clouds stretching out before him. His arms were crossed, and his pure-white curling horns glinted in the sunlight. His dark eyes stared off into the distance as if there were something there only he could see, something he yearned for.

Mereloco said nothing at first -- he just sat with his back against the wall of rock. It was not exhaustion from the hours of training that stopped the young man's tongue. He just did not feel there was anything yet worth saying.

Damon looked over his shoulder at his childhood friend, his gaze unbreakable.

“Will you challenge me?” he asked.

Present Day…

“Nah,” said Gregori Hazzard. “I'm out.”

Morgan swung his head around to face his fellow Phase. “If we don't accept the offer,” he snapped. “The Commander's loss in the Dawn Contest is assured. We have a duty.”

What am I saying?

Taking on Mereloco was folly. Both Morgan's body and mind understood that implicitly. Tealin Jade had been much stronger than him, and the Scurrant had been torn apart by this man. There was no way Morgan stood a better chance.

And yet… his mouth continued to say these words.

“You do what you want,” Gregori said, his voice as disinterested as ever. “But I've got no duty to get myself killed. I only came because I was curious what would happen, anyway.”

“Gregori…” Morgan glowered.

“I'm not curious anymore,” Gregori continued, the slightest smirk on his face. “It looks like you'll be dying here. Good luck.”

White Aether rustled.

Morgan stepped forward to stop him. “Gregor --”

Too late.

“See ya. Paper Moon.”

Within a second, Gregori's body had folded in on itself -- becoming a flesh-coloured paper airplane that flew almost comically out of the window. Morgan could do nothing but watch it go, hand outstretched and teeth gritted together. He was on his own.

He didn't know what the hell Gregori's game was. Obviously, he took his orders from Ascendant-General Toll, but that still didn't answer the question. Did Toll want Morgan dead for some reason? He doubted it. He doubted Toll had ever spent more than a minute considering Morgan's existence. Either way, though…

…he was in deep shit.

“Don't think you're allowed to run too,” Mereloco growled from behind him, deadly quiet. “That pissed me off.”

Great. The super-strong maniac was pissed off. Just what Morgan needed.

Turning slowly, he drew his saber, holding it out before him in both hands. They were trembling. Calm down, he demanded of himself. Calm down. You can do this.

Mereloco wasn't a tall man, but the pressure emanating from him right now made him seem a giant. He glared at Morgan with inscrutable dark eyes. The second he moved, Morgan would move in response. He'd counter. But would he even have the chance to do that?

You don't have to win, Morgan reminded himself. Just survive five minutes. Just stay alive.

Purple Aether, just the slightest shade different from Morgan's own, crawled up Mereloco's arm. His eyes widened, just a tad. His fingertips twitched.

There!

“Unchained.”

F! A!

The gravity slammed into Morgan, sending him flying across the room -- all the way towards the windows. If he struck them, he'd smash right through and fall into the city outside. Even then, he was sure Mereloco would come after him. He wouldn't be able to survive if he were trying to dodge this guy and traffic.

Morgan flung the rope of Fog he'd formed in his hands, looping it around a light fixture and stopping his flight. As his boots skidded down against the floor, however, he knew he wouldn’t have time to catch his breath. Hell, he wouldn't be catching his breath for five minutes, at least.

If ever again.

No. No doubt. Never doubt.

He ducked underneath the massive set of weights that Mereloco had just thrown at him -- then jumped to avoid them once more as his enemy pulled them back in with Unchained.

As Morgan flew through the air, he saw the weights return to Mereloco. Rather than try to throw them again, however, he simply batted them out of the way -- and pointed a single finger towards Morgan's flying form.

“Unchained,” Mereloco said, his voice as disinterested as ever. “Unworthy.”

In the split-second of reaction time available to him, Morgan's eyes widened. Mereloco hadn't used this ability against Tealin Jade. Did that mean that bloody display in the arena had been him holding back?!

F! A! B! A!

Morgan's response was purely on instinct. Spreading his hands out before him, he formed a sturdy barrier of intertwined Blocks and Fog. A second later, he was sent flying backwards once more as an invisible projectile slammed into the makeshift shield. The barrier shattered on impact, but Morgan himself managed to escape with little more than aching arms.

He managed to escape the first shot, that is.

Morgan dived to the side as an endless volley of invisible bullets slammed through space, opening up clean holes in the wall behind him wherever he dodged. Within the span of a few seconds, the room was starting to look like a piece of cartoon cheese. If Morgan took one of those shots directly, there was no way he'd be able to avoid the ones that followed.

Death breathed cold upon his neck.

Even as he ran for his life, however, rolling behind a bulky treadmill, Morgan considered the attack. From what he’d observed, Unchained was an ability that altered the parameters of gravity in a wide area designated by the user. Generally, the strength of area-of-effect abilities increased the smaller the designated area was -- was that how Mereloco was doing this?

Mereloco was creating a field of repulsive gravity, shrinking it down to the size of just a few centimeters across, and then firing it from his finger like a bullet. Just one of them had been enough to shatter the strongest shield Morgan was capable of creating right now, so blocking was out of the question. It seemed he could fire them endlessly too, so taking cover was just as pointless. He'd land a shot long before five minutes passed.

This wasn't good, but still… there was opportunity here.

A car passed close by the window, casting shade into the room for a moment -- and in that moment, Morgan moved.

“An alphabet?” Wu Ming laughed. “What's that about?”

They'd just finished another ‘training session’ -- in reality, an hour or so where Wu Ming dodged the whole time and Morgan's attacks never even got close. His sword skills weren't anything to laugh at now, but he still wasn't even close to the same level. If he wanted to close that gap between himself and the man with a thousand powers… he'd need powers of his own.

Morgan nodded.

“A different power for each letter,” he continued. “Like a whole bag of tricks… so I can respond to any situation. I keep developing the alphabet according to what abilities I need to cover gaps in my arsenal… until it's complete, and I reach Zenith.”

Wu Ming considered it for a moment, lounging back on a chunk of rubble, before relenting with an easy shrug.

“Well,” he conceded. “Only having twenty-six abilities seems a little limiting to me… but you do you.”

Morgan smirked. The genius Wu Ming truly couldn't understand the limitations of ordinary people… but that was fine. Even if this path only led to Morgan becoming a lesser version of the Fourth Contender, then that was fine.

“So long as you're able to keep fighting,” his teacher grinned. “You do you.”

Because a lesser version of Wu Ming was still better than everyone else.

Morgan spoke the letter, his eyes bulging and nostrils flaring.

“J!”

Jape. He'd only completed this power a few weeks ago -- and it was still one he was getting used to utilizing -- but in this situation, he needed every advantage he could get. In that moment, as he weaved his way through the shots and approached Mereloco…

…the Phase split in two.

Mereloco's one enemy suddenly became a team of two, identical in appearance. They each split off in a different direction, one circling around to attack Mereloco from behind while the other made a frontal assault.

Even so, his expression did not shift. Even so, he did not panic or permit confusion. There was no point.

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An illusion.

It was obvious. A technique to create a true replica of yourself would require much more power than this boy possessed, and would necessitate a greater condition than just calling out a letter. One of these enemies was real, and the other was not.

Mereloco threw his body out of the way of the incoming swords, releasing a small Aether ping as he rolled back to a kneeling position. No luck there. Both the boy and his copy emitted the same sensation through the Aether -- to that sense, at least, they were identical.

So the only way to tell the difference was to take a hit? He wouldn't accept that.

He’d just destroy both of them.

Unchained.

Intensified gravity slammed down into the ground where both of the enemies were standing, and the effect was immediate and illuminating. One of the boys dodged out of the way, lightning-fast, while the other was thrown flat onto the floor. Bones audibly crunched from the pressure.

That settled it, then.

Mereloco ignored the enemy that had dodged. No doubt it was programmed to automatically avoid enemy attacks, so that the illusion wouldn't be detected when they failed to land a hit. But that in itself was a flaw. The copy had dodged far too quickly, more a warping of its form than any natural human movement.

He strode towards his prone enemy, his heavy feet thumping on the floor -- and then hesitated.

The boy was slowly getting up. That, too, should have been an impossibility. Mereloco had intensified gravity to such a degree that the boy's organs should have been crushed after a few seconds of exposure. And yet, even with shaking legs, he was slowly rising to his feet.

Mereloco raised an eyebrow.

It wasn't that the boy was getting stronger. The Aether he was emitting was at the same level of potency as before. No, it wasn't that… it was Unchained. For some reason, the power Mereloco was exerting with the attack was quickly and steadily lessening. Within a few more seconds, it would be nothing more than a minor burden on the boy's shoulders.

“I see,” Mereloco grunted, his voice unchanged. “Another trick.”

That was right. Another trick. It was Morgan's ambition never to run out of them.

G.

Grade. Every second Morgan used it on a continuously striking ability, the strength of the attack was halved, ultimately able to reduce that power to 1/32nd of its original force. He'd expected it to work on the base application of Unchained, but it hadn't been a theory he'd been eager to test.

After all… if the initial activation had been enough to kill him, he'd have died then and there, Grade or no.

H.

Heal… well, for the moment that was the important part of the ability. Morgan bared his teeth as his body's natural regenerative abilities were enhanced, spikes of pain stabbing into his body as his bones inched back into place. Even if he could survive Unchained, taking another direct hit would be disastrous.

Only… that should have been disastrous already, shouldn't it? While Morgan had been prone on the floor just then, why hadn't Mereloco gone for the killing shot with Unworthy? The only thing Morgan could think of…

…was that Mereloco couldn't use Unchained at the same time as another ability.

A bloodstained smirk spread across his lips. Good to know.

J! A! F! A! B!

The boy’s body exploded into numerous copies of himself, all of which charged -- swords drawn -- at Mereloco. Eight in all, identical down to their injuries.

Idiocy. It didn't matter how many illusions he threw Mereloco's way. So long as they were shadow puppets, the result would be the same. Mereloco tapped his foot against the floor.

Unchained.

They dodged the field of gravity -- half to the left, half to the right, but it didn't matter. Mereloco had already seen the one that had dodged slower than the others. He'd already seen the one that had dodged realistically.

He'd already seen the one that would die.

Mereloco took a single step forward -- and plunged his fist directly into the chest of the boy. It struck true. It found purchase.

Only… this wasn't right.

Where his arm had impaled the boy, lifting him up into the air, there was no blood or bone. There was no death rattle. The boy just continued to look dead ahead, with eyes as cold and empty as a dolls.

I see. He got me.

The boy had filled this copy up with the cubes and fog he'd used earlier -- creating rudimentary ‘bones’ and ‘flesh’ to improve the illusion. Once Mereloco had pierced the ghost-puppet, that fog had constricted to bind his fist and restrict his movements. It was a good combination.

That means you're coming in from behind, then.

Mereloco's instincts were right on the mark. The real enemy detached himself from the crowd of duplicates, twisting in the air --

“B! A!”

-- as he conjured another cube, and kicked it with all his might at Mereloco's exposed back.

It wouldn't reach him.

Mereloco's eye flicked over to spot Morgan's sneak attack, but it was already too late. The Block was already in flight. The second Mereloco would spend destroying the restraint was a second he needed to use dodging.

So you have no choice, right?

Morgan's gamble paid off.

“Unchained,” Mereloco said. “Uncrowned.”

The Block changed its path through the air, swerving to avoid striking Mereloco -- and a few seconds later, it started circling him instead. No, Morgan realized. It was orbiting him, like a moon orbited a planet. An application of Unchained that automatically blocked projectiles and turned them into a rotating shield.

He smirked to himself.

Good to know.

Something was off here, Mereloco realized. Why hadn't the boy tried to escape by now?

The victory condition for his enemy was surviving five minutes, not defeating Mereloco. Mereloco had made no moves to seal this room, but at the same time the boy hadn't tried to break out of it. If he'd fled through one of the windows, he could have at least turned this into a chase -- greatly increasing his chances of victory.

Unless this brat had another objective in mind?

He was bringing out new abilities to create scenarios, forcing Mereloco to respond. An enemy he couldn't hit with his fist, so he'd have to fire at range. A projectile he couldn't dodge, so that he'd have to block it. Could it be…?

Mereloco's blood boiled.

This little shit.

It could.

Yes, this was an opportunity.

Mereloco hadn't used Unworthy or Uncrowned at all during his match with Tealin Jade. If Muzazi had already woken up by now, he'd be going into this match without knowing about them -- a disadvantage that could be fatal. So long as Morgan survived this, he could warn the Commander in advance.

So long as Morgan survived, he could warn Muzazi about all of the abilities he was pulling out of this bastard.

F! A!

With a roar, Morgan formed a rudimentary ball-and-chain of Amplified Fog, hurling the ball towards Mereloco. The man just stepped out of the way, letting it fly past him, his expression distinctly unimpressed. That was fine, though. That was ideal.

I!

Inside.

That hadn't just been a ball Morgan had thrown towards Mereloco. It had been a hollow ball, a sealed space -- one that Morgan could use Inside to teleport into, so long as he was making physical contact with it. His grip tightened on the Fog-chain. The conditions were met.

In a flash of purple Aether, Morgan teleported inside the sphere -- and exploded it outwards, leaping out of the smog with his sword raised high. Mereloco's back was wide open, the chain now wrapped around his legs and keeping him still. Forget just drawing out abilities -- if he managed to bring Mereloco down here, he couldn't ask for a better result.

His eyes cold and deadly, Morgan brought his sword down --

Uncrowned.

-- and his own Block slammed into his face, shattering his jaw.

At the last second, Mereloco had rapidly accelerated the orbit of the spinning Block, causing it to fly into Morgan and send him across the room. Blood and teeth flew out of his mouth, spraying onto the floor. He would have collapsed to the ground, too… if Mereloco would allow it.

Two punches, infused with Unchained. One obliterated Morgan's saber. The other struck him in the stomach, smashing him down into the floor, cracking it from the sheer impact. If Morgan hadn't focused all his Aether into his stomach at that moment, he knew he'd be dead.

As it was, he'd barely bought himself a second. Mereloco was already raising his foot up, preparing to bring it back down on Morgan's skull. The image of a bursting watermelon came to mind.

So long as you're able to keep fighting… you do you.

Morgan's hand lashed out, seizing hold of Mereloco's other leg. He wasn't done yet. He could still think. So long as he could think, he could fight. So long as he could fight, he could win.

So win!

H! A!

H had been something of an experiment for Morgan, testing what kind of output he could achieve with a conditional ability. Unlike the rest of Morgan's alphabet, it was technically two abilities in one, depending on the target.

When used on allies, it healed the body in exchange for inflicting agony.

When used on anyone else, it inflicted agony in exchange for healing the body.

Heal/Hurt.

He still hadn't landed a blow on Mereloco, so there was no downside to this tactic. He'd fill the bastard with so much pain he couldn't get up -- or, at the very least, he'd create an opening. He'd hear it. Any second now, the scream of pain. He'd hear it. He'd hear it! He'd… he…

…he didn't hear it.

Slowly, Morgan looked up. Mereloco's face hadn't so much as twitched.

Morgan Nacht did not understand this man. He was an enigma. He enacted brutality at a moment's notice, but seemed to take neither joy nor sorrow in it. He didn't seem to take joy or sorrow in anything. Even now, as his eyes were pointed towards Morgan, it wasn't Morgan he was seeing.

No… Mereloco seemed to be glaring at something on the distant horizon -- something only he could see.

The foot came down…

…and stopped inches from Morgan's face.

He blinked. “Huh?”

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Mereloco moved his foot away and put it back down onto the ground. For a moment, he just continued to stare down at Morgan with those inscrutable eyes. Then, he spoke.

“That's five minutes,” he said simply. “It looks like you win, Morgan Nacht. I'll have that woman make the arrangements.”

There wasn't a moment to celebrate. As soon as Morgan heard those words, the adrenaline and tension that had been driving him this far evaporated in an instant… and his head thumped down onto the floor as he fell unconscious.

Mereloco snorted.

Without another look at his unconscious adversary, he turned and walked towards the window -- looking out into the deluge of Azum-Ha. At some point during their fight, a scheduled rainstorm had begun, battering against the windows like a legion of applause. Mereloco just glared at the world distorted by wet glass.

“Will you challenge me?” Damon asked.

To Mereloco, the world had always been a simple thing. It was just space occupied by animals. The only things of value in that space were eating, shitting, fucking and killing. The only real difference between humans and other animals was a brain deformity that made them think they were something more. Sentiment. That was the name of the affliction.

By that worldview, his answer should have been obvious. Yes. There was no hierarchy worth a damn other than strength, and it could only be established by challenging the one stronger than you.

However…

“No,” Mereloco said simply. “I don't think I will.”

Damon didn't seem surprised. He just smiled that wry, sad smile of his. “Why do you go so far for me, old friend?”

Mereloco shrugged with the barest effort possible. “I'm your shadow,” he said. “I'll stretch as far as you need me to.”

Standing before the rain, Mereloco glared at his own reflection.

“Sentiment,” he muttered bitterly…

…as five minutes finally passed.