There was an element in those metallic blue compound eyes that the Professor found unsettling. He wasn't sure what bothered his inner psyche, but it had enough power to strangle his urge to dash in immediately. While his mind chewed on an unknown issue, the duo paced back and forth in opposite directions, the idea being to unnerve Mike Shrimpson with their number advantage. Whether their tactic worked was hard to tell since the more subtle body language of an Elemental Battle Shrimp was lost on either of them.

*Zip, Clang!*

Clearly, Shrimpson's bid at psychological warfare was having more success. Just having its gorgeous eyes locked solely on Morgan, both stocks making minute adjustments to constantly keep him in the center of its undoubtedly advanced vision, was enough to give him pause. However, he could only indulge in hesitation for so long. He was burning Qi on maintaining Rebar, and the Princess was waiting for them.

Yet that intense focus on only one of two foes... But did the Shrimp understand that it was facing two opponents?

Wishing to experiment, the Scientist snatched a piece of driftwood half his height and tossed it.

"Think fast, Spirit."

"What?!"

Unprepared, Ego nearly slapped the stick away at first but managed to grab hold after a stumble or two. Which was perfect since fumbling with a clearly physical object should prove to Shrimpson that the Spirit was not some illusion. Morgan knew the thing could see them both with those massive and complex peepers, yet the big bastard continued to watch only him.

*Zip, Clang!*

Damn it. While it was incredibly tempting to believe the Shrimp only considered him a threat due to his attack, the idea quickly fell apart in the face of reason. Morgan only got close to the solar generator. But to the foe, Ego not only touched its tree but dared to pick fruit and all from right under its antenna. Ignoring them was like ignoring a thief who'd already broken into one's home. Utterly senseless.

Huh, perhaps the thing actually hated the Mortal. What was it about this island that made-

"Morgan, I don't know if you've not noticed this by now," Ego said, unknowingly interrupting the thought, "but I am not much of a direct fighter… Or any kind of fighter, really."

"Eh?" He grunted and turned to find the Monk staring helplessly at him, gripping the stick like a baseball bat. Understanding the miscommunication, Morgan turned back to the Shrimp and tried to dismiss their fear. "Don't be ridiculous; of course I'm not shoving you into a melee with a stick. Fighting is my job; I need you to draw its aggro to create an opening."

"Oh, thank the Heavens." They sighed, a touch of confidence building in their voice. "Let's be specific so there's no confusion. How will I know when to draw Shrimpzilla's attention?"

"I'll just tell you."

"Alright, and what about the stick? Should I toss it now or later?"

"Now is good," Morgan answered absently, knowing they would be restricted while bogged in their corporeal form otherwise. The Spirit's unpredictable state of being was their most remarkable, if only, combat asset.

The Monk's commitment to clear communication was commendable; however, the Professor was internally debating their next move. A slow advance forward might be preferable, as they could close as much of the distance to the generator as Shrimpson would allow before charging. Running now might provoke an early reaction; at best, the three will meet in the middle.

*Zip, Clang!*

Going slow and steady gave his side the best chance. Let the Battle Shrimp believe it could avoid combat until the last possible second.

*Whoosh* There was the sound of something swinging through the air.

"What was-" But the question died in the Professor's throat after looking to the now stickless Spirit tracking something flying through the air ahead.

He turned back in time to watch the stick fall through the air at an unsuspecting crustacean's head. That lack of awareness was quickly cured when the driftwood smacked into a waving antenna, only to be smashed into a rain of splinters by an iron-coated jab that would have made the original Iron Mike proud.

Without a moment's pause, the Battle Shrimp charged. The only sound of its approach came from its legs and abdomen paddles grinding and sending up streams of sand behind it.

"Oh good, I was worried the toss might have hit an eye." They turned to him, beaming while he frowned. "Shouldn't we start running?"

Hmm… Could he blame this all on the Spirit? Sadly, the answer was no. The Professor should have chosen his words with more care. After all, Ego was still new to Human culture and, as today revealed, slang. So, knowing he was ultimately to blame, what else could Morgan do but sigh in agreement and lead the charge.

Despite the duo's delay, the Beast's disadvantage on land, especially on shifting sand, meant both sides would clash four to five meters from the prize. However, just outside of three meters would be better for the plan.

[Shrimpson may have given up the long-range Bubble-Shot, but those damned antennas give it excellent mid-range capabilities, so this will have to be a melee.] He swapped to mental communication since speaking would only ruin his breathing rhythm.

[So, for you to get close, someone needs to keep those antennas occupied.] They projected without missing a beat, though they looked at him funny at the mention of Bubble-Shot. [Are you still doing that Beast Move naming thing?]

The Scientist ignored the foolish question. [You know how to lock down those appendages?]

[I believe I do.] Ego snickered before their avatar again appeared beside the generator. They put a robed shoulder on the side opposite of the handle and, with a desperate strength only known to those who knew the mess they were in was one of their own making, started pushing the machine closer to the clash zone. For dramatic effect, they may have added in a taunt or two. "Hey, Shrimpzilla, I got your fake Jambu tree!"

Immediately, Shrimpson reversed course like a train on tracks while Morgan kept a steady gate forward. It was crucial to pace himself so he'd enter the monster's mid-range a beat after the generator did.

"Now!" Ego screamed as the tip of one corded antenna whipped back to wrap around the machine's handle.

With only one appendage to worry about and no longer handicapped by his boots, Morgan exploded forward, surprising Shrimpson with alarming speed. Its remaining antenna swept low, aiming to knock his feet from under him, but the Scientist had already gotten the measure of this Beast. He leaped, the momentum carrying him past mid-range and directly into brawling range. By far the most dangerous range to be in for either party.

The Battle Shrimp hunkered down and struck with clubs that shot towards him in twin metallic black blurs. Just as with the Harpy, Shrimpson would soon come to learn that speed was nothing compared to observation.

On that same note, Morgan became inspired to name this new Move.

"Herrk," Morgan grunted, swaying back his upper torso and clearing Shrimpson's double Blur-Jabs by millimeters. Electricity arched between the clubs, and the Scientist had never been more grateful that metal was more conductive than flesh. He was even more thankful for the cost of having a cannon's power and speed.

Morgan's chest followed right behind the now far slower retreating clubs, left fist already slicing through air to deliver a Rebar-enforced hook to the side of its carapace, just below the eye.

*Thud* The blow landed cleanly but was dulled more than expected by shell armor.

"But wait," he growled deeply, the thrill of the melee making his martial artist blood boil in joy for the first time in over a decade, "there's more."

Using the already extended left hand, he seized Shrimpson's clubbed appendage just below where the iron coating ended. Jerking the limb left threw off the next Blur-Jab enough so a head tilt in the opposite direction saved him from a skull fracture. As the same club reloaded and the other struggled to escape his vice-like grasp, Morgan unleashed consecutive body blows at the softer underbelly.

*Thud!*

*Thud!*

*Thud!*

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Shrimpson recoiled after the third hit, forcing it to step back outside both their swing ranges, but that was all the reaction he managed to beat out of it. In seconds, the Beast would close in.

[Bah.] The Scientist grumbled mentally. [I can't cause enough damage through its shell, the fucking thing feels like punching steel.]

Damn it. The Harpy was airborne; this crustacean was armored. Every Beast they've fought has rendered barehand martial arts incredibly ineffective. In the near future, he should consider training with a weapon. But now was not the time for such thoughts.

Behind the foe, the Spirit was in a game of tug-of-war with the antennas. True, the Shrimp could easily win a test of strength against Ego, even while bogged down in a separate fight, but it didn't want to win. Pulling the generator closer would bring it closer to Morgan; however, it feared letting go with the Monk constantly pulling it. Shrimpson was also forced to abort attacks on him with the other antenna since keeping only one wrapped around the handle created an easy pivot point for Ego to yank the machine to one side or another.

[Ah!] They yelped as an antenna whipped near them but failed to reach them. [Oh, thank the Dao, that was close. But please tell me you're joking! How are we going to-] They paused to shove the generator when the same antenna tried striking Morgan. [-going to get Shrimpzilla to back off now?!]

[We go back to your plan but with a modification. We snatch the generator, run like hell over to Momo, and we all hide in the cave till it moves on.]

[Ignoring that we might have to wait days we don't have on Lamplight if the Beast tries waiting us out,] the Spirit rebutted unhappily, [how are you going to get close to the generator?]

Now, that was an excellent question.

The only reason this melee was at all even was their efforts to force the Battle Shrimp to divide its attention between them. For the Professor to run around Shrimpson would mean turning away and likely getting pegged by a Blur-Jab. Reinforcing the target area with Rebar might, and the odds favored the attacker, allow him to tank a single hit. But what then? Morgan would be injured at best, at the mercy of two unrestrained antennas, and still have to get past an enraged shrimp to get to the island.

Escaping on the raft was just wishful thinking, especially considering the current issues with the Dimensional Ring.

His other Techniques could help with clever timing, but the only way he could see either being effective would cause permanent damage to the Battle Shrimp. But that was never going to happen. Unlike the sadistic Harpy, who cheered at his literal pain, Shrimpson was an innocent victim. Lost in a foreign land, desperate to cling to a false hope of familiarity… No. The Professor couldn't be so heartless; he'd rather lose all the research.

But just because Morgan can't win the easy way doesn't mean he'll just give up. Where was the fun in that?

[The same way anyone completes an endless journey, my Guide.] The Cultivator chuckled before getting into a defensive stance.

[One step at a time?] They answered instantly but seemed genuinely confused by his answer. [But it doesn't look like you're planning on running.]

[Don't be ridiculous; I can't run while using a karate move since it's not my preferred style.] Morgan turned his wrists and brought the arms back to his waist. One hand was palm down, tilted up, while the other was palm up, tilted down. [But based on what I have in mind, the Mawashi Uke is our best option. Now, when I give the signal, manifest a meter or two behind it and run at us as fast as you can, got that?]

[Another distraction play huh? Yeah, I got it.]

[Happy to hear.]

Shrimpson, in silent rage, re-entered the fray, both clubs twitching for another double Blur-Jab. In that adrenaline-fueled fraction of a second, Morgan could almost see a half second to the future.

Shrimpson's left club became a blur, and his Qi-enforced left palm was already in motion and forcibly guided the blow past him. This time, he was too quick to react and made contact with the live iron. Electricity thundered through him as his body became the shortest path to the ground. Luckily, club two was already in flight. Enduring the muscle-seizing pain, Morgan's other forearm made a tight circle to take over that club and had it collide with its twin, completing the electrical circuit.

In the time it took to sneeze, the Cultivator had rendered the fatal attack useless. Generally, with a foe so over-extended, Morgan could have quickly slammed a counterattack. Sadly, doing so would only be a wasted effort. So he settled for the next best option and took a single curved step to his right.

Shrimpson quickly recovered from the exchange with clubs twitching to try again, and the Professor was more than happy to dance to its tune.

"Bring it." He taunted.

The same exchange repeated dozens of times: a strike thrown, a block made, a step taken. Over and over again, iron spears failed to get past the cyclone shield. Before long, the positions between Mortal and Beast were reversed. Now Morgan had his back to the sea, but more importantly, to his solar generator.

While everything went according to plan, the opportunity had to be taken as soon as possible, for Morgan was at the end of his rope. Exhaustion had slowed his actions considerably, and the Mortal might've bit the bullet already if the Beast hadn't been facing the same issue. Swinging heavy clubs in such a mismatched environment had taken its toll. Now, the second antenna lay lifeless on the beach, the other making only token gestures of resistance to the Monk's provocations.

[Ready?] The Professor projected, his arms a cramping mess of hardly cooperative twitching muscles. [Fair warning, I've got maybe a third of my Qi left, so I highly recommend the answer be yes.]

[Ready as I'll ever be.] Ego reported, yet there was something of an edge to their tone. [Morgan, wait, I'm getting a bad feeling about this. You two started drifting closer to me, but the other antenna hasn't tried to-]

[Go!] He interrupted, believing the Spirit's worries stemmed from forgetting that biological beings can get tired. He heard a mental snort of irritation.

"Hey!" Screamed the Spirit, appearing mid-sprint behind it and waving a recently taken stick threateningly overhead. "I'm warning you, I don't know how to use this- Oops!"

*Snap*

In their enthusiastic intimidation, Ego waved the stick hard enough to break it in two.

One eye stock turned slightly to regard the figure running towards it, even daring to twist its carapace to guard against an attack that would never come. However, there was no way the Beast would know that, especially when its foe stomped hard against the sand and began backstepping away.

From its perspective, nothing had really changed; its enemies were only trading places. For the Battle Shrimp, the status quo remained more or less the same. The poor sucker had taken the bait, and now his side was only a couple of steps from-

Why was it turning back to Morgan? To his growing horror, the Beast was advancing yet again at him! How could it dismiss Ego so entirely every time?

"Excuse me, you salty mantis!" The Monk taunted as best they could, whacking the Beast's hard shell. "I'm talking to you! Stop ignoring me!

Son of a bitch! Did it genuinely have it out for the Mortal?

[ITS ESSENCE!] Ego suddenly blasted into his mind, pointing at something over his shoulder. [LOOK AT THE ESSENCE AROUND THE ANTENNA!!!]

Morgan didn't bother questioning them. If the Spirit heard something was brewing within the Beast's Soul then there would be.

Perception of the Stone Sage darkened the world as he craned his neck to find the speedy appendage less than an arm's length away, targeting right where his heart lay. Yet, somehow, that was the least of the growing list of problems because there was indeed something happening to the Essence there.

Where before the Soul simply curved around the antenna, there was now the crudest blazing form of a humanoid hand. Three of its too-long fingers curled into the palm while the middle and forefinger remained straight, each digit tipped with a wickedly pointed nail.

*TH-THUMP!*

Never before had he seen anything use their Soul in an attack. Every Spirit Beast used Moves that were either Mana or Qi based, so there was no way to know what was coming his way. And yet… A sheer irrational panic overtook him regardless. Morgan instinctively knew what those terrible fiery nails would do when they reached him.

*TH-THUMP! TH-THUMP!*

They were going to pierce his flesh and rip out Morgan's SOUL! HE WAS GOING TO DIE. HE WAS GOING TO DIE. HE WAS GOING TO DIE, DIE, DIE!

*TH-THUMP! TH-THUMP! TH-THUMP!*

[What are you doing?! Protect yourself, fool!]

Their shouts distracted the Professor from the reaper's scythe coming to claim its due. The moment he looked away, that alien panic fled entirely, his mind clear once more. Putting aside any questions on what the fuck just happened, he took the Monk's excellent advice.

Cutting off the flow of Prana energy to his arms, he directed the Body Foundation to pour all the Qi that could be spared into the upper torso. Triggering Rebar, his skin, muscle, bone, and even the internal organs sandwiched between became reinforced by a robust network of green rods. While such a costly defense had never been tested, the Scientist was confident his chest could survive the blunt impact of a cannonball. Granted, if the short-lived panic attack was at all a premonition, then the wiry antenna would need to hit bone to be stopped.

An unlikely miracle, but there was nothing else the man could do. Well, he could prey, but now wasn't the time for this old dog to learn a new trick.

With Shrimpson and its iron Mana gloves still a meter away doing the sandy shuffle, Morgan knew he had two, perhaps three seconds of respite after taking the Soul attack before a Blur-Jab came. Gritting his teeth, he reached out mentally, knowing there wouldn't be enough time for complex instructions.

[Ego.] The Professor's delivery came out far calmer than even he expected. [Ignore Shrimp. Drag generator to me. If I survive, I move without pause-]

"HURK?!" Morgan whizzed aloud for no apparent reason he could come up with.

Hmm? Strange… Why could Morgan see his surprised blue-tinged reflection staring back from a pair of compound eyes?

Mike Shrimpson still had to close a considerable distance, so the Spiritual Beast had no business being so close. Plus, the Bloodline was active, wasn't it? Yet he could watch in what felt like slow motion as beads of blood splashed down on the black mass touching his chest.

The Scientist made the mistake of looking down and saw what made him wheeze. However it got so close, regardless of what disabled Perception, one thing was clear: The Shrimp's Blur-Jab had landed square on his sternum. Ending the first round.

With darkness closing around him, Morgan noted dimly that his feet were coming off the ground, his spine forcibly bending forward as…