Nael Manron looked on in dull shock at the aftermath of Muzazi’s strike. Hachiman had been utterly obliterated by the blast of light -- and with it, half of the wooden dome had been blasted away entirely. Rain and light poured in from the outside, along with the gazes of the gathered fighters. Three of the Eight Phases watched in awe, along with the masses of Nael Manron’s own gathered scum.
Rain hung in the air.
Sparks hung in the air.
Blood hung in the air.
Muzazi stood at the centre of the light and destruction, barely on his feet, kept standing only by the thrusters blasting out of his form. He was on his last legs. Good. Nael took in a deep breath: even without Hachiman, he could still finish off this corpse.
After having its physical form fully destroyed, Hachiman would take an entire day to regenerate -- but Shamichoro was a much less complex Guardian Entity. Even in just the few minutes since it had been destroyed, it had recovered enough that he could partially manifest it again. Nael spread his hands out, holding the single string that had regenerated tight like it was piano wire.
He’d loop it around Atoy Muzazi’s neck and slice his head off. That, at least, was guaranteed to stop this zombie.
Wasn’t it?
It was no surprise that Nael would question that. Over the course of this night, Muzazi had been thrown, crushed, sliced, dismembered, stabbed, even impaled -- and yet, there he stood. Nael supposed he shouldn’t be shocked: Dragan Hadrien had warned him about this, after all.
That man doesn't stop, no matter what, he'd said. It's infuriating.
Nael’s hands tightened around the wire, even as it made them bleed. Just looking at this man was infuriating. By all rights, he should have accepted reality long ago -- and yet he still stood. He’d suffered more than Nael had, he’d seen how the world worked -- and yet he still stood. He’d been brought an inch from death -- and yet he still stood!
He’d savour seeing this life end.
Nael charged forward in a flare of crimson Aether, the ground behind him exploding into dust from the sheer force. Right now, in these last moments of consciousness, Atoy Muzazi was in the zone -- a state of perfect instinct that would allow him to counter any attack. But that was fine. In the midst of combat, such a thing was commonplace. Nael Manron had killed many ‘perfect’ opponents.
All he needed was a moment of opportunity.
He opened his mouth and roared: “Entity Override! All of you -- kill Atoy Muzazi!”
The gathered Guardian Entities of the Crimson Carnival moved as one -- abandoning their masters to the Phases and rushing in a tidal stampede towards Muzazi. Some of their masters fell quickly, but there were still enough monsters approaching to form a smokescreen for Nael’s advance. As Muzazi slashed endlessly at the incoming hordes, Nael weaved between them, barely visible save for the slightest of crimson blurs.
Wait for it…
There.
A mad grin spread across his face as he saw his opportunity come -- as he saw Muzazi’s well of will finally run dry. Right after cutting down the final Guardian Entity, Muzazi’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he began to collapse to the ground. He’d gone past his limit long ago, and now it had finally caught up to him.
Nael lunged in.
Die, he thought. Nael Manron.
“Die!” he screamed. “Atoy Muzazi!”
He closed the remaining distance -- and then there was a flash of white.
The sensation of pain was so brief that Nael didn’t even notice it at first. All he knew was that the wire that was previously held in two hands was now held only in one. Even that fact barely even registered. His eyes were focused solely on the face of the man before him.
Yes… the glaring face of Atoy Muzazi. He was still conscious. Had that been a bluff just now? No… Nael’s gaze slid down to the thruster weakly blazing from Muzazi’s shoulder, slowly burning into his own cheek.
Despite everything, the slightest chuckle escaped from Nael’s lips. This man truly was insane. Before passing out, he’d set a thruster to attack his own body -- so that the pain would force him awake once more. He’d used his own failing body as a means to lure Nael in for the finishing blow.
Yes… that was surely what this was.
Nael’s severed right arm, still smoking, landed a short distance away. The King of Killers collapsed to his knees. He had hit his own limit long ago as well. Perhaps he could have gotten back up and kept fighting, but it was a curious thing. For some reason, as he looked up at Atoy Muzazi, the potency of his own Aether seemed to be fading… he was losing synchronisation with it.
Dragan Hadrien had been right. This man just wouldn’t stop, would he?
Muzazi’s radiant hovered next to Nael’s neck. He could feel the heat on his throat. Was this what he had waited for?
“You win, Muzazi,” he said quietly.
Muzazi nodded as much as his body would still allow. “Yes… I think I have.”
“Then finish it.”
All the fighting outside had stopped. Morgan Nacht, Marcus Grace, Ionir Yggdrassil… even the members of the Crimson Carnival -- they all just watched as Muzazi stood over his opponent, ready to deliver the final blow. Rain battered against the ground like applause awaiting its occasion. What was left of the wooden dome slowly crumbled around them, fragments falling like snow.
Everyone was waiting, everything was waiting… and yet, Atoy Muzazi did not deal the final blow.
“What are you waiting for?!” Nael growled, a note of desperation entering his voice. “Finish it! Kill me!”
Muzazi blinked, and the Radiant vanished. All that was left of it was steam, hanging in the air. Nael’s eyelids fluttered, and as he collapsed onto the floor, he hissed:
“Damn you.”
Thump.
In the last seconds of consciousness permitted to him, Muzazi looked down at Nael’s prone form. A shaking, bloody smirk spread across his lips. The last of his voice pushed itself up from his throat.
“Let God try.”
Then he too finally dropped.
The battle had ended with both participants on the ground, with both participants covered in blood, with both participants on the verge of death… and yet, not a single soul watching could deny that Atoy Muzazi was the winner.
----------------------------------------
“What a night!” Alice moaned, tossing off her jacket as Road and Restorossi returned to their hotel room. Without hesitation, she threw herself down onto the couch and stretched out like she owned the place.
Ruth’s eye twitched as she watched Alice laze. She’d definitely have to talk to her about this later -- she had no problems with the girl relaxing, but she couldn’t behave like that in front of their clients. A business like theirs lived or died by their reputation.
God, listen to me. Skipper would have let me get away with that.
Well, Skipper could afford to let her get away with that stuff. He’d never had to worry about putting food on the table, for whatever reason. Somehow, he’d just been able to slip through life, the things he needed just falling into his hands… and they’d been pulled along the ride with him. Sometimes, the conflicts he’d led them through had felt like nightmares, but these days she found herself missing them.
Her heart ached.
“Hey,” Rex nudged her arm with his fist as he stepped in next to her, clearly noticing her downcast expression. “We’ll get him next time. Don’t stress out.”
“Right,” Ruth nodded, smiling. “Thanks. I’m good.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Ruth Blaine was not good.
There was Dragan to worry about too, wasn’t there? The things he’d done… the things he was doing in the Dawn Contest… Ruth wanted to say she couldn’t believe it, but she honestly could. They were the kinds of things Dragan would do, even if they were multiplied by a hundred. She’d suspected at first that Dragan had some other objective he wanted to achieve in this Dawn Contest, but with the night's events, there was no denying…
…he wanted to become Supreme.
Ellis marched up to the couch that Alice had made her base of operations. “Move,” he muttered, gaze locked onto the game on his own script.
Alice glanced up at him. “Get lost.”
Ellis went to sit down, and Alice pulled her legs back to accommodate him. Then, the two of them returned to their scripts. Ruth frowned. Really, didn’t they realise how unprofessional they looked? Bruno just stalked off to his own room -- the fact they’d failed to meet with Dragan again was obviously frustrating him.
Closing out the roll call, Ruth looked up to Roman Hitch -- still in the position he’d been in when they’d left. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall, hat hanging over his scowling face. Honestly, he could make a decently living as, well, a living statue.
“Everything okay here?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yup,” he said gruffly.
“Anything happen?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nope,” he said gruffly.
Another conversationally challenged employee of Road and Restorossi. They seemed to attract them like moths to a flame. Roman hadn’t been part of the company for too long, but he still seemed like a reliable guy -- reliable enough to watch over their base of operations, at least. He was a kind of Scurrant that required less sleep, so they’d already agreed he’d keep watch overnight as well.
Ruth returned the curt nod.
“Well,” she said, clapping her hands together. “The Dawn Contest isn’t going to stop anytime soon. I’m gonna grab some sleep while I --”
Before she could finish speaking, though, Rae Ruditia suddenly popped up before her. Despite the tiring events of the night, the reporter’s pink eyes were still bright, and her glossy lips still spread into an enthusiastic smile. Didn’t she ever lose that energy?
“Do you have a minute?” she asked cheerily. “I wanted to talk to you in private.”
Shit. Was it Alice and Ellis’ conduct she’d taken exception to, or the period they’d been separated back at the Arena of the Absolute? If they lost this job, things would become much more difficult for them -- they’d lose their free ticket to the Dawn Contest, along with their access to the other Contestants. Ruth’s heart hammered in her chest.
“Sure,” she said calmly. “Sitting room?”
“That sounds swell!”
The Yupitheater was a pretty fancy hotel -- the rooms they’d been given included a large chamber for private meetings. As the two of them walked into the sitting room, automatics installed into the floor detected their presence and flipped over two tiles, revealing the chairs that had been lurking beneath them. A fireplace built into the wall sparked into life, the roaring flames and crackling wood giving their conversation a cosy feel.
Rae sat down in one of the chairs, sinking comfortably into it and stretching. “Long night, huh?”
Ruth took a seat in the other, hands in her lap. Her bulky artificial legs made sitting down in a soft chair like this somewhat uncomfortable, but she’d put up with worse. Besides, right now, she was still on the job. “I’d say so. I have to apologise again -- we weren’t expecting that Aether ability to split us all up like that.”
“Oh, that?” Rae flapped a hand. “No worries, that’s absolutely fine! That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
Ruth furrowed her brow. “What, then?”
“Did you manage to meet up with Dragan Hadrien?”
Her blood froze. Her heart skipped a beat. Hot tension crawled over her skin, and her breath felt sharp in her throat. In the seconds after Rae spoke those words, Ruth’s mind raced with possibilities. Had she overheard Rex or one of the others talking about this? Or was this some kind of trap, arranged by the Supremacy themselves?
“What do you mean?” she finally replied, her mouth dry. “Dragan Hadrien? The Shooting Star, right?”
“Miss Blaine,” Rae offered her a lopsided smile. “Come on. I’m not stupid.”
Blaine… not Road. Shit shit shit.
Ruth clicked her tongue. “How long have you known?”
“It’s my job to find out about these things, Ruth,” Rae replied. “I knew before I even hired you. Heck, I hired you because I knew. The former subordinate of Zachariah Esmerelda is trying to worm her way into the workings of the Dawn Contest… you caught my interest, I guess.”
“Skipper,” Ruth said sternly.
“Huh?”
“His name was Skipper.”
Rather than being put off by the sudden rebuke, Rae seemed to grow more interested, her eyes twinkling even brighter. “You feel pretty strongly about that stuff, huh?” she asked. “Is that why you’re here? Continuing Skipper’s legacy?”
Ruth ignored the question, and coldly asked her own instead: “Does the Supremacy know I’m here?”
“What do you mean?” Rae cocked her head.
“I’m a wanted terrorist. How much have you told them? Are we surrounded right now?” If it came down to it, she could take Rae as a hostage and use her to escape the building. They’d probably have the Slipstream BRAVE under surveillance, so they’d need to steal a different ship. Rex had done research on the area -- he’d know the best place to hit for that, so --
“Oh,” Rae said. “I haven’t told anyone.”
Ruth glared. “Then what’s your game?”
Rae steepled her fingers, resting her chin on top of them as she regarded Ruth with those piercing pink eyes. “I told you -- you caught my interest. I became a reporter so I could meet interesting people. That’s the only reason… and you seem to become more and more interesting the more I observe you. When you were about to fight that Violence woman tonight? That was enchanting.”
“Are you… coming on to me?”
“Sorry,” Rae said immediately. “You’re not my type.”
For a few seconds, they just sat in awkward silence. An automatic sneakily replaced one of the spent logs in the fireplace with a fresh one before scurrying off into the shadows. Ruth tracked it with her eyes, just in case.
“So…” Rae continued. “Did you meet Dragan Hadrien?”
Ruth snapped her gaze back up to regard the reporter. If she knew Ruth’s history with Skipper, then it was no surprise she knew about Dragan. If Ruth Blaine and the del Sed twins were trying to get involved in the tournament where Dragan was a contestant, it wouldn’t take a genius to work out they were looking to make contact. For someone in Rae Ruditia’s line of work, they were simple dots to connect.
So her story checked out.
“Why do you want to know?” Ruth asked slowly.
Rae rolled those pink eyes. “How many times do I have to say it?” she sighed. “I’m interested. I want to know your story. This is the first time you’ve seen Dragan Hadrien in quite a while, right? How does that make you feel?”
“Shitty,” Ruth answered automatically.
“How’s that?”
If Rae Ruditia really was doing this just out of some weird interest, then Ruth supposed there was no harm in playing along. If she didn’t, it might spell the end of their employment as Rae’s bodyguards, putting them in the awkward position Ruth was trying to avoid.
“It feels shitty,” Ruth continued. “It’s like… I won’t say he abandoned us, but he’s… cast us aside, I guess? I feel like I’m nothing but a spectator anymore. He’s going for a goal I can’t understand, and he’s shutting out everyone who might convince him otherwise. It’s like he’s sprinting somewhere, impossibly fast, and we can’t keep up.”
He’s going somewhere I can’t follow.
“You don’t understand it?” Rae cocked her head again. “I don’t think it’s that bizarre. Skipper killed Kadmon because he wanted to change things, right? But he didn’t get the chance. Dragan Hadrien must be trying to continue his work -- keeping his legacy alive. I think that’s a commendable thing.”
Ruth closed her eyes. “Skipper wouldn’t have asked Dragan to become Supreme. Never. He hated the whole system. The Supremacy… the Supremes… all of it. If it were up to him, he’d have torn everything down.”
“Well… maybe Dragan Hadrien’s a bit more realistic, I guess?” Rae’s eye twitched. “He wants to become the Supreme to change the parts of the system he disapproves of. He’s strong enough to pull it off, I’d say.”
For a long time, Ruth said nothing, just staring down at her hands in her lap. To be honest, this was probably the first time she’d voiced all of these feelings out loud. It was a little unsettling how Rae Ruditia had managed to drag all of this out of her, with just a few words in a quiet room. She was pretty good at her job.
“Hey,” Rae said quietly. “I don’t want this to feel like an interrogation or anything, but I just wanna ask one more question. Then I’m done.”
Ruth shrugged. “Go for it, I guess.”
“You’re strong,” Rae leaned in, lowering her voice. “You’re skilled. If you put your mind to it, you could really be something. Didn’t you ever consider throwing your hat in the ring? For the Dawn Contest, I mean?”
“Skipper would roll over in his grave.”
“But… you never thought about it? Not once?”
Ruth sucked in air through her teeth. “Well… maybe once, for a minute, I guess. When they announced the Dawn Contest registration -- but no. No, that’s not the kind of world I want.”
“What do you mean?” Rae said, staring.
“Dragan… and Skipper, I guess… they have these big dreams, and ways they want to change everything, and this -- this kind of view of the big picture. I don’t think I’m like that. I’m fine with the small picture. I’m fine with this little world I’ve got around me.
“I’ve got my friends, and my… my family, and my life. I’ve built that life. That’s mine. I think I’m content just holding onto it. I don’t need to change the shape of the world or anything like that. It needs to be changed, sure… but I don’t need to be the one to change it. I’m not that arrogant -- or maybe I’m just a coward. Who knows? But that’s the way I feel.”
Rae slowly nodded, taking in Ruth’s words. “I get what you mean. I think that’s a shame… but I get what you mean.”
“Are we done?” Ruth asked.
Rae nodded. “Sure,” she said. “We’re done.”
As Ruth rose from her chair, her heartbeat still seemed dull in her chest. Rae had said she hadn’t told the Supremacy about her, but could she really trust that? By her own admission, the reporter had hired her under false pretences. Awkwardly standing there, Ruth just looked down at the other woman…
…and saw not a trace of deceit in those bright pink eyes.
At a loss for what else to do, Ruth just leaned down and patted her on the shoulder. “Appreciate your dis --”
“Ah!” Rae gasped, suddenly pulling her arm back. Still wincing in pain, she cradled the limb, the sleeve of her jacket hanging limp over it.
“Oh, uh, sorry,” Ruth said, her hand still hovering in the air. “You okay?”
“Fine,” Rae nodded. “I just hurt my arm in the crowd earlier.”
ARC 13
END OF PART 1