Mark spent the most stressful 30 minutes of his life trapped in a wooden box with no access to Chi while the sky went from red back to blue/

“The Crazy bastards actually managed to turn it around,” he muttered, and quickly opened his system screen and checked for his main mission.

It was still clearly written in bold Red.

Kill the other champion and advance to the next round of the tournament.

“Nothing’s changed,” he deflated before he realized something else. If the Phantoms’s biggest problems had been taken care of, didn't that mean they had more time for him?

'I need to get the fuck out of here before somebody shows up!

“Master, Aaron, and Wang,” he heard a voice greet from outside the box.

‘Shit!’ Feeling was slowly returning to his body, but the potent cocktail of Chi-blocking and the paralytic had rendered his Chi inert. He quickly equipped both of his batons, calling them from his inventory. At that moment, he wondered if drinking some recovery potion would help him regain control of his body, so that was what he did.

And it did help some, but he was not at 100%. He was quite not ready to face a single phantom, much less three.

“They’ll fucking rip me apart,” Mark muttered, his heart drumming hard. Aaron was famously prickly towards everyday Fire Nation soldiers. He couldn’t imagine how he’d react when he faced someone who actually betrayed him.

‘Fuck me.’

What was the point of learning how to metal bend and preparing himself all those months if he couldn’t even defend when the time came?

‘Fuck it,’ he growled. ‘I’m not going down without a fight.’

Mark summoned two shortswords and several other pieces of metal armor that he bent around his body.

“Forgive me, Masters, but are those Fire Nation Soldiers?” his jailer questioned.

“You’re dismissed Feng,” Wang commanded with some strain in his voice.

“Understood Master, but you seem a bit…out of breath. Are you injured?” he asked with some concern in his voice.

“Just do as you’re told,” Aaron snapped. “You’ll be called for if you’re needed, Feng.” Mark felt a chill run down his spine at the edge of Aaron’s voice, and the grip around his sword grew tighter.

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He took a long steadying breath.

‘It’s not nearly as bad as I think it is,’ he told himself. ‘They still need me.’

He might’ve royally screwed up, but the Old man and the rest of the Phantoms were still hungry for his power. His ability to teach parallel processing and other powerful skills he had made him indispensable.

There was no way they’d let Aaron waste him.

‘But what if they never get a chance,’ a voice in his mind said. Aaron sounded pretty set on slitting his throat.

Then, he had to make sure they did. Mark knew the Phantoms could see far with their absurd senses. He only needed to alert the closest reasonable one to his whereabouts. Then, he'd be safe.

"After a stay of execution, all I need to do is wait it out and get teleported to the battleground a few months from now.”

Mark peeked out the hole in his crate to a startling sight. The White Lotus were here!

'Something big is going on. The other masters should've already noticed their presence. It's only a matter of time before they arrive. But, I might be dead before then. It's best to speed things along then.'

“I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, Feng,” Mark said to the guardsman as he walked away. “Oh, and make sure to tell the other masters that I'm looking forward to seeing them, and that we have more than a few guests.”

Their reaction was telling. Feng peered back at him confused, while everybody saves for Wang seemed to flinch ever so slightly.

Would they attack to preserve their secret, or will they let him go and deliver a message that will make them even more vulnerable? Either way, he needed to hold out until help arrived.

“Oh, and make sure to tell Master Ren first, I’m sure he’s as excited to see me as I am him,” he called out to Feng as he disappeared around the corner.

Mark was glad they didn't take the bait, but it did nothing to soothe his nerves. He was still in for the biggest fight of his life potentially.

When he saw Aaron stride purposefully towards his crate, he took the initiative to strike first, hoping to raise an even bigger racket. Yet, some part of him hoped he'd get lucky and actually wound at least somebody in the room.

He needed every last advantage if he needed to run.

Mark sent his shortswords flying through the slits of his wooden cage at breakneck speeds, straight at Aaron.

The teenager swayed with an unnatural grace, dodging both blades while he sent a stinger straight at the crate with a powerful jab. The wall exploded in a spray of wooden shrapnel, and his second sub-mind swung up and activated One-With-The-World.

Still, he barely saw the attack coming, but he summoned his batons in time. A palm clad in white light snapped them in half before slamming into his chest piece, sending him through the back of his wooden cage, crashing into the far wall.

He gasped for air as he breathed through his cracked ribs. Every inch of him screamed in pain, yet his sub minds worked at full power. One of his two shortswords glowed silver with Chi before it shot at Aaron, but the young Airbender dodged it with preternatural ease. With a leg clad in the same strange white energy, he kicked an attacking shortsword at the hilt, sending it straight at Mark. He had to summon his metal shield to tank the attack. With a grunt, he got up to his feet, and his metal chest piece morphed, setting itself back in place.

His seized metal gauntlets flew from where they’d been kept when he’d been captured and wrapped themselves around his forearms.

His eyes settled on Aaron, and he truly took the time to analyze him.

His muscles seemed fuller, and he looked slightly taller. However, what he found the most worrying was the anger in his eyes. Aaron sent out a wave of air that split his second shortsword he was about to strike before he finally turned to Mark.

Mark noticed his eyes were unusually red.

‘Had he been crying?’ Mark wondered. ‘Fuck me. He’s going to be extra hard to take down, won’t he? He was getting truly desperate. He wondered if psychological warfare could work against someone like Aaron.

“Have you been crying-?”