Aaron got up at the crack of dawn the very next morning and dragged Mark with him. He was sleeping in a tent, not far from Zuko, who seemed to have dozed off watching him.

The boy jumped, tangling himself up in his tent when he saw Aaron, while the latter watched him with faint amusement on his face.

“How much food do you have?”

“Good morning to you too,” he grumbled as he pulled himself free and stretched his spine.

“Knowing the type of person you are, you probably have months’ worth of food stashed in that mystical space of yours.”

Mark looked offended. “What type of person do you think I am?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to spell it out for you?”

“If you think that little of me, maybe I’ll stay in character and not share any of my juicy, delicious food,” Mark huffed.

“We can’t track and fight the most powerful man in the world if we're starving,” Aaron said. “You still want us to fight for you, correct?”

There was a bout of silence as they both stared at each other.

“Alright, alright,” Mark conceded. “Where do you want the food.”

“Follow me,” Aaron said.

Mark followed behind Aaron with a complicated look on his face. Aaron’s ribbing had been light, much lighter than he expected, yet it bothered him deeply.

‘Stay the course,’ Mark told himself. ‘You screwed him over. What did you expect, a hug?’

If he couldn’t handle Aaron, what would he do when he faced Ren or Samir?

“So,” he started. “What’s the plan, now?”

“The plan?”

“Yeah. The plan. We have three Phantom on our side, your cousin, and a bunch of ghosts. I’m thinking winning over the army is next, but y’all might have something else in mind.”

Aaron observed Mark for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

“The plan, for now, is breakfast.”

“Breakfast!” Mark grabbed Aaron’s shoulder. "Aren't you a bit cavalier about this? I think you’ll agree that we’re on a timer here. We have to be more proactive about this shit. I’m not keen to face some weird Megazord mashup between your Old Papi and that cunt, Samir.”

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Aaron’s eyes turned frigid as he looked at his shoulder and then at Mark.

‘Shit.’ Realizing his mistake, he quickly let go of the Airbender.

“We can’t go to war on an empty stomach,” Aaron insisted. “As for our war plans, you’ll learn about it at the same time as everybody else.”

With those words, the Airbender walked away.

‘Ah, shit. What did I just say about staying the course.’ Mark shook his head and followed a few steps behind.

They came to a stop at an open space with several pots, a handful of ghosts, Misha, and Ren, of all people. The ghosts were parsing through what little they’d manage to liberate from the Earth temple.

They all stopped when they laid eyes on them. Aaron continued like he didn’t notice the awkward pause while Mark took ponderous step after ponderous step. His eyes avoided Misha and Ren entirely, but he scanned the faces of the dozen twenty-something-year-olds that stood alongside them.

“Give all that you are willing,” Aaron said.

His voice brought Mark back to the moment. “How many mouths do we have to feed?” he asked.

“About forty.”

“That’s a lot of mouths…” Mark would be lucky if his supplies lasted an entire month, but considering what was at stake, he gladly gave it all up—of course, only after securing a month's worth of food for himself.

Misha strolled up and inspected the meat with some apprehension. “You don’t have a lot of experience smoking meat, do you?”

Mark scrunched his mouth. “Not particularly.”

“They look pretty well done, given the circumstances. Thank you,” she said with a smile that Mark was half-certain was genuine.

“Don’t mention it.”

Misha nodded and looked at the meat calculatingly. “There’s about enough here to hold us for about half a month if we eat sparingly.”

Ren grunted in approval and turned to the ghosts. “Help her divide up the meat and smoke the bit that needs it.” They all nodded and started moving. Ren turned back to Mark. “You and I have a lot to discuss.”

Mark felt a chill creep up his spine but nodded, all the same, reminding himself they needed him alive and on their side.

‘What’s the worst that can—’

His musing came to a screeching halt when a peculiar message appeared in front of him.

[Critical Error! A Lord’s Champion has been corrupted. Timeline of tournament void. Eliminate the Abberant Champion in the next 12 hours or protocol Clean Sweep will be initiated.]

Mark’s mouth felt dry.

“What is Clean Sweep?” Mark asked, although he already had an idea. Aaron and Ren were looking at him now.

[All life will be eliminated and replaced with artificial life that is more stable and accommodating to a competitive environment.]

“Oh fuck,” Mark muttered. “I…uh…think your grandfather got to Samir.”

‘Oh fuck was right,’ Aaron thought as they flew on Appa. Aaron, Zuko, Bumi, Wang, Ren, Jon Jon, and Mark headed towards the hardest fight of their lives. All the Phantoms wore wingsuits with light-flowing airbending robes draped on top, except for Mark. He more a metal armor he’d metal bent himself.

Things rapidly heated up after news came of the ultimatum by Mark’s system. It put everything they’ve faced until then into perspective and confirmed that even Mark was a pawn in some greater game they couldn’t even comprehend.

“I don’t like it,” Ren grunted as they came up on the camp. It was minutes away now.

“Of course, you don’t,” Wang said. “But it certainly makes you wonder if the old man was right to try to take the traveler’s body. We live at their god’s whim. He might be just hastening the inevitable.”

“Couldn’t he have waited another hundred years,” Yara said. “Because of him, I might not see my grandchild grow up.”