If you had told me years ago that I would one day be wrestling a magically enhanced midget in front of a baying crowd, I would have said that you were crazy. If I had known in advance what the future held for me, I would have flunked out of the academy and taken a job washing dishes or flipping burgers.

Nothing is worth this shit.

"SNAP SUPLEX BY THE BEAST!" the announcer roars as Padu sends me crashing into the ring's surface. I would complain about how much it hurts, but I lost all feeling to my lower body around a minute ago.

"Oh fuck me." I groan as Padu delivers an elbow drop on my stomach. My whole body's probably a massive bruise by now. At least my reserves of potential are still holding steady. The Fat Man, or rather the Fat Kid in this reality, can't finish me off as long as my own personal reality remains up and running.

I quickly kick out of another pin attempt by Padu and let myself get dragged back to my feet. Remember, wrestling's fake. Its all fake. That means that the damage the bigly midget is inflicting on me is fake as well. I can keep tanking Padu's hits without losing any potential. And once there's an opening, I can put this ridiculous farce to an end.

Still doesn't stop everything from hurting so bad.

Padu tries going for another grapple but this time I manage to push him away. Despite the slight lull in the action between both of us, the crowd is still going absolutely crazy. And it doesn't take a genius to work out why.

Breath and Padu's manager are tearing at each other like lumberjacks, the duo fighting in the midst of the audience. Breath's fists of fury have already landed several solid hits as evidenced by the fat lip on the manager's face. Padu's manager wields the title belt like a whip, repeatedly delivering meaty whacks on Breath in return. The crowd obligingly clears a space for the two men to keep brawling, sometimes reaching out to pat either of them on the back.

"WHAT INTENSE ACTION!" the announcer helpfully points out.

Have to say, I'm pretty disappointed at Breath's showing so far. All that talk of the power of the cosmos and this is what he's capable of. Bum fighting.

Our friend is also bound by the rules of this reconciliation.

"Fair enough." I mutter back to the voice of my heart. Shit, things are pretty bad when my own internal monologue is more perceptive than the conscious mind.

My reverie is broken at the sight of Padu rushing at me like a freight train. Quickly twisting to the side, I easily dodge the incoming clothesline and lash out with both arms. Letting the borrowed instincts take control, my arms wrap securely around Padu's neck in a textbook sleeper hold. I jerk the giant midget back and hear him audibly gasp for breath. I seize a portion of my potential and concentrate it, preparing for what comes next.

"Taste the killer clutch!" I yell at the top of my voice, announcing my off the cuff kayfabe finishing move to the crowd. My potential invisibly explodes outward, warping the reconciliation, changing reality to my whim. My arms gain the strength of iron, as Padu flails ineffectually against me.

"OH MY GOD! THE KILLER CLUTCH! THE DRIFTER'S KILLER CLUTCH! PADU IS IN TROUBLE!" the announcer cries out in dismay.

The reconciliation accepts my manipulation and my sleeper hold's power increases several times over. I feel Padu's strength leeching away and he falls drunkenly on one knee. I keep my hold on the man, waiting for the match to come to its inevitable end.

The referee lifts Padu's arm and the limb falls limply back to the giant midget's side.

"One!" the referee shouts, beginning the submission count out. I note distantly that Padu's manager is now trying to pull the stupid shopping bag off Breath's face, forcing Breath on the defensive.

"Two!" the referee makes the second count. One more and its all over.

"Fake! Wrestling is all fake!" I stare dead on at the Fat Kid, mocking him, "Fake and gay!"

"You're gay!" the Fat Kid yells back, giving me the finger.

As I guffaw at the Fat Kid's distress, a surprisingly urbane voice cuts in.

"Could you try to act more professionally?"

"Huh?" I grunt stupidly, looking around the venue, trying to find who's mouthing off at me.

"I know your job is to rile the audience up, but calling our job fake is deeply insulting. To both us and the fans."

My head slowly swivels back as I realize its Padu talking to me.

"Professional wrestling isn't fake. It is staged. There is a difference." Padu lets out what sounds like an annoyed sigh, "I would have thought someone as obviously experienced as you would understand that."

"Uh, I don't see how -" I mumble in surprise before Padu's entire body bucks upward, trying to struggle out of my finisher.

"PA-DU! PA-DU! PA-DU! PA-DU!" the crowd cheers and starts stamping their feet in unison.

I hang on for deal life as Padu extends an arm skyward, making a show of reaching for the heavens. The crowd eats it up and starts chanting his name louder and louder.

This isn't fair! I used my finisher! You're not supposed to power out of it!

My internal screaming is ignored as Padu steadily gets back up to his feet, leaving me hanging on to him like a barnacle. Breath and the manager's battle has now become a side show, with Breath valiantly fending off the manager with a chair.

"PADU NEVER QUITS! HE WON'T LET HIS FANS DOWN!" the announcer declares triumphantly against the background chanting.

"This is complete bull-" before I can complete what I'm saying, Padu lifts me up in a military press and sends me flying straight out of the ring. I hit the ground hard and come to a rest at the foot of the announcer's table.

Struggling to my knees, I see Padu lunging out of the ring with fresh energy, a predator looking to run down his prey. As the giant midget looms over me, I go back to the tried and true.

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A hard punch to the nuts.

Which Padu promptly no sells.

"Help!" i call out in vain to Breath as Padu easily lifts me up for a body slam. Breath doesn't bother to answer, to busy running away from the manager in a panic, frantically adjusting the shopping bag on his head.

"RIGHT THROUGH THE TABLE!" the announcer shouts.

"No shit captain obvious." I groan as my body is sent through the table with a thunderous crack. As Padu starts dragging me back to the ring, I try punching him in the balls again. Again he no sells it.

And then I realize the horrid mistake I had made.

Like Padu said, wrestling isn't fake. It is staged.

Staged.

Just as Padu couldn't damage my potential once I realized the truth of this reality, I hadn't been really hurting him either. Or rather, I hadn't been hurting him as badly as he made it out to be. We were essentially actors, playing out our roles. Both of us were in pain sure, but it wasn't like how I would fight against bioforms. Neither of us were really striking to kill, or even harm.

And in any play, the end result is predetermined.

Padu was no selling my attacks because it was time to wind up the match. That's all there was to it. And in this match, it had already been decided that he would be the winner. There was nothing I could do about it. It was an iron clad law of this reconciliation. That was why Breath, despite his obvious power, was reduced to being a clown. The reconciliation is actively neutering his abilities.

And by accepting wrestling "powers", I had unwittingly drank from a poisoned chalice. I had implicitly accepted that wrestling is staged. And I had to go through with my own defeat.

From the corner of my eye, I can see the Fat Kid smirking as he too realizes that I finally understand the nature of the trap he had laid out for me. To fight Padu is to lose.

That is the ultimate law of this reconciliation.

"I won't ... I won't fucking accept this!" I shriek in panic, punching and kicking away at Padu desperately. But my opponent's body might as well be made out of titanium. Nothing works. I'm forced back in the ring and shoved under the man's sweaty crotch.

"Seeker." Breath's voice echoes in my mind.

"Could use some help here." I mumble to myself as Padu readies himself to powerbomb me into oblivion.

"I will create an opening for you. Get ready to seize it." Breath's mental whisper replies as I note that he's making a break for the ring, chair in hand.

"How will that help?" I object as Padu decides to toss me aside and help his manager finish off Breath, "I can't win here. No matter what I do."

"You must lose yet win at the same time. I have faith." Breath simply states as he runs into the ring. Padu promptly grabs the ridiculously dressed monk by the neck, forcing Breath to drop the chair.

Lose yet win. Pure stupidity.

PA-DU PA-DU PA-DU

The crowd's roar becomes hypnotic, the reconciliation preparing for the finale.

Not stupidity. Merely a paradox.

"How am I supposed to manage a bloody paradox?" I groan, clenching both fists reflexively.

Aren't we a walking paradox? Dead yet alive.

Dead yet alive. To lose, yet win at the same time. Of course. What I need to do is so obvious now that I think about it. The Fat Kid, for all his knowledge of reconciliations, isn't an Awakened at the end of the day. To him, this trap is fool proof. But only because he sees reality in binary. Black or white. Dead or alive. Victory or defeat.

He cannot conceive of an end state where two opposites can coexist.

Breath is choke slammed onto the mat, with Padu and his manager towering over the fallen monk. This is it. The opening Breath prepared for me. I slide over, grabbing the abandoned chair.

And I reject all the pro wrestling powers endowed upon me by the reconciliation. My strength shrivels back to its original level, but it is now truly my own strength.

Strength that I, and I alone, can use as seen fit. I take aim, and swing the chair as hard as I can at Padu's head.

This isn't the drifter putting on a show for the crowd. This is Alex Mann AKA Adam Everett, trying his absolute best to brain a man with a chair. My potential screams in exultation, finally able to mold this reality without the invisible bindings of the setting.

The chair hits.

Hard enough to cause brain damage. Hard enough to take down Padu for good.

Accidents happen in the ring. Reconciliation accepted.

And Padu drops to the mat like a stone, blood oozing out of his eyes and nose. His body begins to shrink, the spell broken, and the giant quickly reverts back to being a midget.

"Shit!" Padu's manager immediately realizes something is wrong and turns to check on the fallen wrestler. Someone backstage frantically rings the bell, signaling the end of the match and my defeat by disqualification.

But I still won. Padu will never wrestle again. The Drifter is his final opponent.

Breath hops back to his feet and hands me the now forgotten title belt. I lift it over my head in triumph as Padu's entrance music plays.

"I'm a winner! A winner!" I shout at the Fat Kid as the reconciliation struggles to end me. I feel the weight of the reality trying to crush me whole, but my victory is an infallible barrier that it cannot overcome.

None of the rules were broken. I lost in the ring to Padu. Yet I had defeated him utterly.

"Well done Seeker." Breath congratulates, "You threaded the needle admirably."

"Only with your help." I acknowledge, feeling somewhat guilty. Breath helped me when I needed it. Yet I preyed on an innocent woman who did me no harm. I purse my lips, forcing that sour conflict back down my throat. Was my ambition to survive truly worth it?

"Yes. It is." Breath calmly answers.

"How did you know -" I turn to Breath as he dusts his clothes off and prepares to leave the ring.

"Never let your resolve to survive waver." Breath merely states, "Death is easy, as easy as letting sleep come to you every night. To keep living no matter what comes our way, that is the true measure of anyone's worth."

"And you would know that how?" I frown at the monk.

Breath tugs at the shopping bag on his head meaningfully before sliding out of the ring in silence. Well, that's as good an answer an any I suppose. The world begins to waver, the reconciliation growing unstable. The Fat Kid stares at Padu's body, his face a mixture of disbelief and shock.

And then the washroom door slams open, with Delacroix rushing into the crowd as fast as his legs can carry him.

"Everyone! We need to evacuate this place at once!" Delacroix shouts, clapping his hands together to get the crowd's attention.

"What the hell?" I mirror the crowd's befuddlement at this sudden turn of events.

"Seeker!" Breath calls me over to a window he had been staring out of. Darting to his side, I follow Breath's finger, pointing out of the window and straight at the horizon.

"Green light?" I murmur, spotting a flickering arc of emerald flashing across the horizon.

"Starfall radiation." Breath urgently informs me, his fingers knotting together, "Green fire from the sky. That's how the records describe the meteors that bombarded earth way back then."

"But the meteors fell ages ago!" I object, "Why are we seeing green fire now?"

"I don't know," Breath raps his fingers on the window pane in consternation, "But if there was a dormant meteor shard nearby -"

"Everyone, hurry!" Delacroix yells out again while carrying the unconscious Padu on his back. By now everyone has noticed the green flashes and regardless of what they think of Delacroix taking charge, getting out of here can only be a good idea.

"Oh dear." Breath drolly says.

I turn back to the window and the flashes have become a tidal wave of emerald, washing across the barren landscape. As the restaurant's interior is drenched in green, the crowd stampedes out, with Delacroix keeping order as best as he can. The wind begins to howl, a rabid, malicious sound.

"We need to leave. The exotic radiation could harm us before the reconciliation ends." Breath tugs at my arm.

"Wait! Where's the Fat Man's doppelganger?" I object, casting my eyes in the crowd, "I don't see him in the mass scrum at the exit."

"We do not have time!" Breath's tug becomes more insistent, "I can force our way out of this reconciliation."

There. The Fat Man's doppelganger is at the back of the restaurant, fiddling with an unmarked door. He finally gets it open and slips through without another word.

"Satisfied now?" Breath grunts.

No way. I managed a glimpse of what was on the other side of that door. A battlefield, scenes of battle and death. Adventurers by the thousands, fighting and dying to Bioforms. In the distance, I spot the familiar form of a wild primal ape.

And when the last adventurer died, the scene reset.

Every last adventurer came back to life. Hale and whole. Not a single wound on their body. Ready to fight and die again.

"Paradise. The land where no one needs to fear death." I mutter to myself as the door clicks shut with finality. I reach out longingly, hands grabbing at empty air.

Just in time for the roof to tear away as the tsunami of starfall radiation consumes the building whole.