Sudden curiosity is brought to the Fallen, who tilts its head up with a slight shift to the side, as though making an observation that it finds interest within.

Levitating passively in the air in a standing posture as though there was an invisible floor, the Fallen remains high in the air amongst the skylines of Earth 1’s city, a metropolis with an interesting architectural identity primarily identified by blue towers that have a prominence of sharp tips, evoking the resemblances of ancient medieval towers with its conal roofs, though with a modernization providing a sleek rendition.

That however is how many of the towers are meant to appear, though most of the ones at least visible from the area the Fallen hovers at have been modified with varying degrees of significance, some of them now being gripped by colossal metal structures resembling rib cages of differing sizes, many of them consuming significant portions of the tower while emitting a blue-tinted field that levitates rubble within its clutches.

Other modifications are more extreme, concealing entire towers in an entirely separate appearance, ditching the sleek sharp style instead for simplistic cylindrical pillars made not of blue but gray, not of metal but a glassy material similar to baked clay.

In all directions there is an upward blue beacon composed of dense traffic of pods all of which flowing in the same direction: away. From as far as sight permits there are countless of these beacons, like a reversed storm, leaving the atmosphere above the cyan supersun gradually setting behind the skyscrapers behind the being, the sky an intense cyan of evening as if the sky was burning.

In front of the Fallen’s body levitates Meditat, though his method of hovering isn’t as clean as there is visible blue propulsive mist emitting from his feet even if it is dim. His cape waves wildly at this altitude same as his hood, though his azure fabric suit remains clenched tight to his body with minimal wrinkles, the golden metal pauldrons the most tight which glistens in the intense skylight. He stands stationarily, waiting keenly for a move with both of his hands raised in a boxing-like stance, blue flames dancing off his wrist and around his fingers, primed for action at any moment since his opponent needn’t flinch a muscle to deploy another lethal attack, the last one nearly destroying multiple city blocks.

The strange fixation away from himself did perplex Meditat slightly, leading him to rapidly turn his head in the direction of the gaze, quick enough to perceive the direction of sight before returning his gaze forward in safety of a potential surprise attack. However there is none, and now that he can focus on the opponent, he can deduce from that quick glance that there are no strange sightings in the direction he checked, at least nothing unordinary that should call attention. He had perfect visualization and yet all there were were more buildings, some reformed others untouched, with traffic further away and the horizon beyond that. Yet the opponent’s gaze is still offset, as though it was gazing off into its own mind, or perhaps because it was viewing something that couldn’t be seen by him. Unable to deduce the reason for the attention shift, Meditat clears his head and focuses on the threat before him, waiting for any strike, knowing now his enemy’s destructive abilities are none to take lightly.

Instead though, that relentless demon’s subsequent act is not a physical one, but rather a verbal observation spoken with an intrigued tone: “Interesting, one of your allies was able to output enough Exforce in order to weaken my Pawn…I wouldn’t have thought an Exhuman would be able to achieve that outcome; it’s still far below termination threshold but it’s still impressive for one of them. Although…are they…,” before tapering off.

Initially this string of thoughts appears completely random and meaningless, especially with the few unfamiliar terms, leaving Meditat at first determined to focus not on those words but instead remain vigilant to attacks. However, his fists begin to loosen as his own curiosity takes hold of him, interpreting the observation deeper, abstracting the physical space of their environment. The reference to allies would only be the Bellators, potentially the pirates if they were mixed up as such, though it’d likely not be any individual beyond that set. The observation appeared to be triggered from an event oriented around combat or at the very least seeking damage on a target, but the only enemy present in that area was the one right in front of him; he had believed that the fight’s separation would’ve left them safe from harm.

His arms slowly begin to lower as he finds puzzlement in the term ‘Pawn,’ or at least in its association with this observation. Only this one opponent had emerged over the course of the exchange in the mountains, there wasn’t any indication of additional assets. Even then he was under the impression that the opponent had no intentions with the others, at least it seemed they wouldn’t be targeted. They were away from the fight, they were safe.

The flames in his hands burn out as they drop to his side as the only logical hypothesis comes to him. Even if he wasn’t aware of any other forces, he wasn’t even aware of this enemy to begin with, he knew nothing about this enemy, he wasn’t sure what its Exhuman abilities were if it was even an Exhuman, he was unsure what the armor was composed of, he was unsure of its background and how it knew information about him that nobody he didn’t know should possess. This being before him was one he had no understanding of even during this fight, and yet he assumed that if it was distant from his team, his team would be safe as a result.

But even without knowing this enemy, he should’ve known that logic was horribly flawed. He had just recently experienced a situation where logic like that was proven imperfect, and he experienced the worst result of that event.

He saw him pierced though.

He saw half his body razed.

He saw her minced into chunks.

He saw her guts blown out.

All of which happened when he thought they were safe from the enemy.

Dread first locked his body in this horrible realization before finally permitting movement, allowing Meditat to swivel the other way opposite from the sun, away from the opponent, instead towards the direction where the other worlds would be, and his body thrusts itself with a boost in that direction, a desperate dash away from the enemy who had already demonstrated the capacity for civilian damage, yet dread operated his body to dash away from that enemy and hastily order in a grim voice, “Orial, transport me to Dana’s loca-,” just as he feels the heavy weight of the stone hand rest on his shoulder, a shadow looming over him cast by the towering figure who has reappeared right behind him, and before another syllable could be spoken, the nearby skyscrapers, the distant towers, the sparse clouds, the supersun, all of it fades to black.

However, this time there isn’t a quick transition to a region on an Earth, or even a remotely recognizable location like the Moon, but instead there is a lingering in this black void where Meditat is unable to move his body as though it was frozen down to his every individual muscle. He’s unable to even speak or breathe, suffocating himself and yet he doesn’t feel the deprivation of oxygen as if there’s no passage of time for the effect to occur. All he can do is stare at the sight right in front of him as the black void flickers ever so subtly, brief glimpses of rays appearing around him, all of which follow the same direction like a tunnel. Slowly more appear and hold for longer, the individual rays appearing as a shade of gray. However as they rise in prominence, more of them appearing at a time before flickering away, the shapes of the tunnel can be made out, and it’s realized that it is not gray rays among a black void but rather black rays among a gray void, the density of the rays were great enough that it appeared the opposite. The rays are perfectly straight, forming the walls of an edgeless tunnel, a tunnel constantly forming itself as those rays fly forward with their own apparent motion all of which shoot past Meditat yet he doesn’t feel the motion, as if instead he’s stationary within this tunnel.

As the rays continue shooting onward past him, the gray void past them starts to partially open up like clouds being passed, and through the clouds there can be caught glimpses of another environment below, an endless dark sea colorless but for the gentle white glimmers. The cloudy effect continues to move, allowing different angles of this colorless sea to be caught, one of the wider ones revealing what appears to be the only spec of land being an island in that sea, too distant to perceive detail though it does stand out as elevated over the water. The clouds fade in and out, exposing a few more glimpses of the surrounding waters around the island further on, but more strangely humanoids standing in the water about knee deep, though ones towering far over the island as if that island is just a small surfaced rock, but the other possibility would mean those humanoids are potentially towering over the height of a football field. There’s many of them too standing side by side, their texture difficult to make out, though the one defining feature is that while the majority of their body is like a human, they lack a traditional head but instead there are two large curved horns sticking out of the neck like goat horns. None of them show motion, they simply stand in a circle around the island, as if watching it, all beneath Meditat who’s stuck inside the tunnel.

Suddenly though a greater concentration of black rays shoots past, covering up the sight of the strange island until soon enough there are no distinction between rays, the entire environment again appearing to just be a black void. Then the individual rays again become sparse therefore distinct, the quantity of them drastically decreasing to allow visibility past them of a new environment, one that is fully exposed in just about a second as the remaining rays cease entirely which leaves the two in a different environment, this one similar in the empty black space, though different in that there are twinkling white stars scattered all over that abyss.

In this environment Meditat is also finally able to begin breathing, or at least his body is capable of executing the process, though his suit has to provide oxygen given that he’s currently in a vacuum. His shoulder is released, allowing him to dash briefly forward, hyperventilating after the lucid experience unsure of if time had even passed during it.

Despite an encounter unlike any he’s before felt, Meditat is quick to push down the overwhelming bewilderment to shift his priorities that he demands, “Orial, transport me to them!”

He frantically waits with heavy breaths, hoping for a speedy pickup since the instantaneous spatial transportation was usually quick and had only improved in the last decade, hypothetically adequate in returning him to his allies in seconds. There were only a few instances where he was compelled against using the transporter, namely when approaching an unknown environment which was what led him to taking a different albeit more cumbersome approach to rescuing Dana, since he couldn’t easily ensure that he’d be kept out of sight or safe and thus maintain the veil of tranquility that’d avoid potentially worsening Dana’s state of captivity had they known she was being rescued. Regardless of if that delicate strategy held its true value in the end, at least at this moment there were no such vulnerabilities for an immediate transit, as at worst he’d be faced instantly against the threats that seemed to be ambushing the team, though if anything that’d be for the best as it’d allow him to assist promptly. There was no priority in covertness, quick action mattered most in this situation, quick enough to hopefully prevent any horrible fates his abandoned allies were now threatened by.

And yet, the response he’s provided by his artificial assistant is: “I apologize, but it appears I have just lost access to all servers, including the Network responsible for that service. I will continue to ping for a connection, though I cannot acquire even a partial reach.”

Dread punctures Meditat like a knife to the chest, his only response being an equally punctuated: “What?”

Hovering in the vacuum of space with a gentle orange luminescence grazing his black cape, Meditat raises his head before receiving the followup: “In fact, I’m currently relying exclusively on your suit’s local computer, so my memory will likely be reset to this moment if it is replaced, but at least I am capable of interfacing with compatible equipment as the L.S.T appears functional.”

Locked out of that greatest solution, Meditat frantically glances around while muttering, “Dammit…where am I…what Earths are nearby…which direction is the supe-,” before spinning around, which is when the front of his body absorbs that orange light.

That light is emitting past the Fallen, who simply stands in the air, looming passively, the figure a more intense silhouette due to the intense glow of the great sun far behind him: an orange blazing sun. It’s massive compared to his own body of course, even from a distance it is discernibly huge, though it doesn’t have the exact same scale of the supersun. Even then, the ironically alien nature of the star staggers Meditat with a gentle backward thrust, unable to emit a verbal reaction, consumed by perplexity from the magnitude of questions that could arise yet none manage to.

Perhaps easy due to the fact both were in the same direction of sight, but Meditat’s focus lowers to the being who brought him to this region of space to whom he asks with a discernible hint of unease: “Where are we? Where did you bring me? How far from the Superverse system did you pull me to?”

Staring right back with both feet planted side by side even if not grounded by a physical surface, the Fallen raises its head to survey the cosmic landscape for itself as it ominously explains, “The Superverse system? Right, you must believe we’re still in the same universe. I would bring you to an adjacent universe had He left any, but this dimension’s physics are close enough to your familiarity, and it has a few similar regions. Ironically many dimensions bear some variant to the same solar system that was extracted to build your own, though that is merely a byproduct of infinity.” It then returns its gaze to Meditat before raising one arm, triggering Meditat to raise both fists that light up in blue flames, though oddly enough it simply points a finger downward, as if requesting his attention elsewhere.

Clearly distraught, unsure of how to trust this entity who’s objectives seemed completely contradictory to every action taken, Meditat’s curiosity again takes control of his head which lowers, finding that below his feet further down is the familiar globe with a blue body populated by continents green and brown, all sitting underneath swirls of white, an Earth yet one that doesn’t revolve the same cyan sun as all the others he had been accustomed to over the course of his life. The celestial body very clearly resembles Earth, and for all intents and purposes it likely was, and yet there was a difficulty in acknowledging that fact when it was in a cosmic environment unfamiliar to him.

That astonishment subsides to anger back to the topic that remained most paramount even above the questioning of mentioned adjacent universes and dimensions, the latter was a term he hadn’t even heard of in this use, but regardless Meditat lifts his head, his lenses glaring in rage as he demands aggressively: “What did you do to my team?! How do I return to them??”

An echoed sigh exudes from the Fallen before it lowers its head, commenting with a hint of disappointment: “Your first sighting of a dimension beyond your own, and your first thought is that. You’re both still similar, fixated on the minor details, limiting your capacity simply through your lack of perception. It’s unfortunate that your Father chose to restrain the knowledge he could’ve bestowed to you, you don’t know the source of your abilities, you don’t know what you are, the structure of the Reality you exist in or the ones that came before, the Eternal War, none of it. His insistence on control through limitation is appalling, at this extent what good was there in passing his power down to his Sons?”

Tsking from the sudden personal insults that relate information concerning for this shadowy alien to possess, Meditat’s fear for his own security is subsided by his agitation for his ally’s seclusion, fueling his voice growing in persistent rage upon detesting: “I don’t know who you are or half of what you speak of, and I admit right now I hardly care about it. You’re going to tell me how I can return to my team.”

Raising its head higher than straight, enough that it appears it's staring down on him judgmentally, the Fallen states coldly: “You’ve shown inadequate purpose to demonstrate respect, I don’t understand what gives you the right to make demands. I’ll return you to them only once I’ve found value in you.”

Growling from fury nearly boiling through the mask, Meditat opens both fists which causes a burst of flames off his palms, his primed blaze growing as he accepts the challenge seemingly for simple battle with the irate declaration: “Then I’ll finish this quickly,” before releasing those flames forward, which dance in a stream that begins to morph into the shape of what would’ve likely been a cannon before it’s split down the center by a black flash that grazes his golden shoulder, but before he can recover, a second black flash occurs before his entire body is abruptly launched backwards at a meteorite’s speed.

During his soar through space, for just an instant perceived in the single shutter of an eye, his arm is grabbed by the stone beast which causes all of his perception to flicker for another shutter before he’s let go, allowed to continue flying backwards before he can recover himself with a braking burst, suspending himself to straighten his posture, a distant orange globe behind, and fix his gaze on the enemy who stands about twenty feet in front of him. A single black flicker prompts Meditat to strafe to the side, throwing his arm forward which unleashes a flame that transforms into a missile about the size of his arm that propels itself towards the Fallen, prematurely exploding a second before impact which releases an electric smoke intended to stun, though the stone body seamlessly moves with a head tilt before three separate barrages of rapid blue energy bolts fire onto the body, absorbed without even visible knockback, the enemy showing little interest before summoning three flickers right as the three spherical drones that were firing the barrages abruptly combust.

Tsking from the lack of effective firepower as he frantically dashes in chaotic angles to keep away from being targeted, Meditat contemplates in a mutter as if seeking advice: “Traditional non-physical methods aren’t working, it has to be that armor but without identification I can’t know it's breaking point. I need to get through it though, I’ll increment and target non-vital portions,” before flames bursting from his hands equip him with a long rifle like a sniper, though the barrel is longer than his own body, the scope presenting a screen that has a vertical bar that begins to fill slowly from the bottom with red as the aperture flashes before firing a concentrated blue beam.

That beam strikes the Fallen’s shoulder, remaining fixed as Meditat dashes wildly to avoid the black flickers attempting to reach him. The beam doesn’t show any immediate effect, though it noticeably gradually thickens.

At about ten percent of the bar being filled, Meditat focuses the beam of the rifle while his body boosts in all directions, though remaining oriented like a pivot around the opponent so a steady aim can be maintained. At twenty percent of the bar being filled, Meditat observes apprehensively: “This is enough to pierce skin, not enough,” as indeed the thickening ray still fails to make a dent on the armor.

In silent observation, the Fallen just watches Meditat zip around him, carefully strengthening the beam’s power until the energy concentration shows some erraticism, sparks diverging as the weapon struggles to control its own output.

Glaring with one eye on the scope and another on the target, Meditat sustains the consistent ray, that scope screen now demonstrating power output rising past fifty percent.

Without any visible results, Meditat’s finger applies greater pressure to the capacitive trigger on the handle, causing the beam shot out to grow wider and brighter.

From the shooter’s point of view, the screen exhibits an output rising past three quarters, and yet past that screen along the travel of the beam down the rifle there is still no visible damage made to the stone shoulder, the Fallen remaining still, only retaliating with sparse flickers.

Upon the bar nearly filling, well above ninety percent and climbing, Meditat groans from the lack of results as he mutters, “This should melt steel but…nothing…,” before dashing away from another flicker, only for a flash to leave a slice straight through the rifle through the barrel, leaving a gap in his breast. He propels himself upwards as he simultaneously erases the rifle’s remnants in flames while fire crawls into the wound to patch it, and after its completion he raises both hands above his head, firing a larger flame that elongates in the formation of what resembles a long satellite given the three panels in the back, though they also can be representing the fins of a rocket, the head of which is hollow before flashing a blue light that precedes another concentrated energy beam, this one initially slightly wider than the maximum size of the rifle’s output.

The satellite laser propels itself in strafes alongside Meditat as it steadily raises the power, the beam soon as wide as the entire beast’s shoulder blade, excess arcs bouncing off the stream yet there’s still no result.

Focusing on the beam’s output whilst below the source, Meditat observes quietly as if relaying information back to Orial: “We’re passing capacity to melt diamonds, it’ll likely burn through the shoulder too but it’s minimal injury.”

Wider, brighter, harsher, the laser beam intensifies with every second, the width now capable of ripping off a chunk of not only the shoulder but part of the breast with it. Now the beam doesn’t have the same consistent tone as before, but instead there are spots along the ray darker than others, chaotic like the face of the sun, for that is practically what is being fired. The ray starts to lose its edge, jittering more in the shape of a wave like arcs rather than a keen line as before. And just as the ray reaches its maximum output, it splinters before the whole satellite separates into three parts followed by the destroyed internals’ combustion, knocking Meditat away from it, his arms dangling in front of him, one of which is grazed by the stone hand before it lets go, allowing his body to continue soaring though now that small orange globe has grown dramatically larger to cover the entire space behind him before consuming him in its cloud atmosphere until revealing the rocky surface that he collides into within seconds.

Rocketing up from the pit, Meditat narrowly avoids a flash that carves a sizable crater over the hole, causing the rocks on the orange surface to be lifted up from the invisible impact. Now above the surface, Meditat surveys his surroundings with quick spins, abruptly fascinated by the landscape that is clearly not that of an Earth, more akin to a Moon though not precisely either due to the apparent climate as there is indeed a sky even if not bright blue. There are hills though, which he found out first not by seeing them but feeling them as his body suddenly thrusts back into one, crashing straight through its peak, leaving rocky debris which falls on the surface faster than it would’ve on the lunar landscape.

His attention at first scattered from the alien sight, he realigns focus ahead of him just in time to project a cable off his hip onto the edge of the peak, letting him swing around it just as a larger chunk of the hill is ripped off, leaving a curvature in the hill as if it was two to begin with. He sighs before extending one arm forward, opening a fire that forms what appears to be a crossbow in general shape, made of silver metal with a covered top but there is the signature bow shape by the tip with wires holding it by the iron sights. The bow begins bending back as the wires tug on it, and after locking aim, Meditat presses the trigger a few times, firing physical arrowheads that propel themselves additionally with light trails, driving sharp metal tips into the stone armor only for them to be vaporized on impact.

Desperate to seek a weakness in the armor by exploration, finding that the first attempt at physical piercing to fail, Meditat doesn’t give up but rather ditches the crossbow to instead throw a physically-tipped silver spear with its own propulsion, the head long enough to penetrate through the entire shoulder, using the same target in hopes of accumulating pressure. Yet impact just results in the tip melting against the stone, same with the rest of the weapon, leaving the propulsive ray to simply fizzle out. Several ballistic knives fly into the shoulder, only to leave no marks or even visibly agitate the target, who just stares forward before suddenly vanishing.

Recognizing the preemptive strike, Meditat raises both arms over his chest in a cross, though the top of his head ends up being grabbed by the huge hand before he’s thrown backwards into an environment of similar orange tones though more reddish, however there’s no longer a visible surface below. There is still an atmosphere, in fact it’s vastly stronger, so strong that it carries with it a raging storm unlike any on an Earth, winds knocking his body back and forth as the suit reddens slightly from the immense heat. Flashes of lightning in the distance wake up Meditat, prompting him to brake himself just in time to strafe off to the side in avoidance of a couple black flashes, retaliating back by chucking a small ball at the Fallen who now appears in front of him. While the ball itself misses right above the shoulder, just before flying past it suddenly explodes not in a ball of plasmic energy but instead in a fiery gas explosion, a blast more lethal though it still doesn’t stagger the opponent.

Struggling to stabilize in the heavy currents which the Fallen does effortlessly, Meditat remains fixed on explosive weaponry by equipping himself with a large rocket launcher that sits over his shoulder, as large as himself in both height and width, the barrel wider than his head. That barrel flashes blue before releasing a physical rocket head that dances in the air in avoidance of more black flashes before landing on target, straight for the shoulder, exploding on impact with great orange flames that would’ve definitely blown up an unarmored person, yet on this target it doesn’t cause a flinch.

Instead, that rocket launcher is cut straight through the barrel, forcing Meditat to frantically ditch it with an evasive dash just before it explodes, managing to at least protect himself from the blast with a quickly formed circular shield on his left hand that prompts an additional energy layer to protect from the shockwave and chunks. He opens his right hand and extends it forward, opening three streams of fire that each form projectiles resembling hellfire missiles which each soar with their own propulsion, all of them landing at once on the Fallen’s stone body, no longer simply aiming for the shoulder where injury would be mitigated but instead over the torso too, as Meditat slowly undoes his own self-imposed restrictions to avoid injury of his opponent, resulting in all three exploding with huge fires that consume the stone body in the same hellish shades as the storm around them. Even then, from the center of that fire burst there is a subtle black flash.

Happening already, Meditat tries to resist by covering himself in flames to form a cocoon made of a white silk material, though the hand grabs straight through it with ease, clenching onto the forearm before the red storm vanishes in a black stutter, replaced by an environment no longer containing a unique climate, but instead returning to the cosmic canvas with streaks of galaxies among stars. However the space is far from peaceful, for nearly immediately Meditat collides into one of the many rocks infesting the region, requiring quick dashes to evade them in search for gaps, difficult due to the density of the vast rings of space debris which orbit the gargantuan globe colored in beige bands, intensely larger than Earth or that earlier orange planet. This meticulous movement is rendered mute though when entire paths are cut through it from black flashes trying to reach him, however the quantity of rocks does allow for greater movement as Meditat is now able to zip around with cables, letting himself better avoid the empty paths trying to cut him through.

After the first few seconds of chaotic dodging, he locks sight onto the Fallen who simply stands in the ring, the rocks colliding with him simply evaporating on touch. The stone monster just needs to turn its head to press fire, every flicker cutting huge lines of rocks, decimating them without so much as dust left behind. Quickly there wouldn’t be any cover behind the rocks to use, so a plan had to be devised quickly. All energy-based attacks had failed, whether it be lasers that could melt any material, or gas explosions, reminding him of the former presumption that the opponent may have defenses specifically against energy. In fact, the only few attacks that did show any effect were physical, and while spears showed little promise, the attacks that had an effect were not sharp but rather blunt albeit for the bat’s failure.

After exhausting most other ideas for damage categories, a choice is made to try focusing deeper in the potential root cause of those punch’s effectiveness, which is done first as Meditat throws his arm forwards as a fire trailing with the throw forms a long metal rod like a tungsten pole, the size of a staff which like most other projectiles carries itself with an accelerating propulsor, the width the same as the stone fist. That rod just melts on impact, and instead of a stagger, the opponent vanishes again this time noticeably quicker, throwing Meditat off who is knocked back against the chest, flinging him through a black stutter that drops him straight into deep waters like an ocean, leaving him aimlessly floating for just a second before he dashes away as a line of water hollows out intersecting through where he just was. He turns to face the opponent who just stands inside the water upright, watching multiple flames light up which form underwater torpedoes that race for him and strike on impact with their own explosions that fail to sway the Fallen. In a blip the Fallen reappears beside Meditat, grabbing him and throwing him into a thick blue atmosphere, sending his body crashing onto an icy surface that isn’t particularly hard but instead slushy, unstable to stand on thus forcing him to leap in the air. He faces down, his cape breezing in the blue climate not of the same shade as the Earth’s sky but a darker tone, facing the Fallen who stands over the slushy surface, watching the man raise both arms up which each release great umbrellas of flames before he throws his arms down, subdividing the umbrella into a barrage of countless rockets, however they’re all huge with a width more than the Fallen’s own body, shaped like a huge bullet which rains down and smashes into the opponent, not igniting explosions but instead physically crushing the target as the weight of the rockets alone is its main strength. From the quantity of the barrage, many rocket pods fly into the slushy floor, breaking through the soft surface, clearly not weak as they drive in with the force to squash dense metal.

Apparently the force is inadequate as the stone body remains intact even after the end of the burst, leading to the Fallen reappearing in a black flash, however this time Meditat boosts backwards fast enough to evade the grab, retaliating with both hands raised up, producing a long horizontal flame that is thrown forward as it forms into a projectile resembling a silver bullet train both in shape and size, far wider than the target and longer than a city block, flying straight into the stone body where its nose immediately burns on impact as well as the rest of the body revealed to be made of solid metal as it’s not hollow like a real train, carrying maximum weight for greater force. The center of the train at least melts, but the edges that don’t touch the body continue past, dropping into the slushy ground.

Still the Fallen simply stands in place, letting the train burn itself just by touch, and while the retaliation was meritable, it does significantly impede on visibility of the target which is exploited in a reappearance right behind Meditat, grabbing his shoulder from the back before shoving him forwards into a stony dune of a solid surface beneath the cosmic sky, lacking its own unique atmosphere, the most like the Moon in fact as it’s nearly indistinguishable other than the vastly greater distance from the yellow sun given its merely a dot now. Due to that distance, the surface is revealed not to be simply stone, but impact exposes it to be solid ice as it cracks from Meditat’s body bouncing off it, though he manages to bounce back onto his feet which slide backwards as he faces the Fallen maintaining that calm standing pose with its arms at its side, also on the ice. It watches Meditat extend both arms forward to release a single large flame that manifests a truck pod the size of a fire truck though with the nose mounting a huge rotating metal drill that spins fast enough that all that can be seen is a blur. The drill drives straight into the Fallen, burning on impact, leaving the opponent unharmed to raise its head before being struck by a volley of physical cannonballs, still undeterred as they just burn up on touch, leaving the opponent unharmed to vanish.

Again that pattern initiates, prompting Meditat to begin dashing frantically both backwards and to the sides, trying to stay out of range even when the pursuer has yet to reveal himself, leaving just the man dashing alone on the former planet’s surface. Despite the erratic movements, the Fallen still manages to grab Meditat by the forearm, raising it up in preparation for another forced relocation, and on desperate instinct Meditat throws a high kick into the side of the Fallen’s stone torso, causing it to grunt and instinctively relinquish grip of the forearm, stumbling back just slightly.

Stunned by the unexpectedly successful hit, Meditat emits an astonished, “Huh,” having finally landed a blow after all the trials all of which resulted in failure. It was ironic too, after all the weapons created, it was yet again just a hit using his own body that caused an effect, as if it was his body specifically that was exclusively capable of impacting the opponent. That however made little sense, and as Meditat observes his own knee completely decimated before his very eyes, he acknowledges that attempting to strike exclusively at short range would be a dangerous plan at least if that was the only reliable method. Even then, he had a feeling that he was missing one single piece, one that was needed to finally make significant progress in this battle, and this was his moment to capitalize.

In a plan formulated within a quarter second, he manifests a physical mace that he grips with both hands, made with a silver metal head, which he swings straight into the Fallen’s left thigh as he regrows his knee, however this strike doesn’t even nudge the opponent, only resulting in the destruction of the mace as if Meditat failed to deliver a following strike. He then leaps in the air and swings his arms from the right as his hands grip a manifesting sledgehammer, however the sledgehammer’s head is made purely of hardened frosty crystals, manifested just the moment before impact into the side of the armored face that sways to the left as the whole body stumbles a few steps off balance, that strike succeeding even though a chunk of the sledgehammer’s head vaporizes.

In that moment as Meditat completes the followthrough of the swing, his black cape waving like a flag beside him, his azure glare blazing, that final piece clicks into place, and the answer he had been searching for finally comes to him.

Reestablishing footing, the Fallen straightens its posture after having it bent for the first time, but as it turns its head to face Meditat, he throws his arm forward, his palm breathing flames that manifests five boomerangs made of hardened frosty crystals, all of which strike the stone chest, causing another backward stumble, providing Meditat the setup to make a sprint forward as he equips a bat in hand, the handle rubberized for tighter grip though the barrel is made purely of crystals which flare up upon swinging it for the forehead, this one tactic at last showing promise and now being relied on as the primary root for future attacks. That swing makes contact, destroying the top half of the bat but causing yet another few steps backwards for the Fallen, the slushy ground beneath its feet dampening from the weight.

One more step back, the stone beast’s body finally showing just a minor glimpse of exhaustion as it needs to straighten up once again, the Fallen raises its eyeless gaze at Meditat before ominously applauding, “You’re finally prioritizing your Exforce concentration, that deserves praise. However you are limiting yourself to one form, unless you’re capable of imbuing other materials with concentration your potential still hangs low.”

Despite that insult tacked on to the end, the Spirit’s posture for the first time in this battle shows a hint of confidence, standing straight with his chest puffed forward, his arms tense but at the side, his chin up, eyes glaring as the majestic black cape waves behind him. Through that glaring mask he retorts brazenly, “I admit my prolonged reliance on the material isn’t perfect, but if that material’s what I need to force you to yield, I have an abundance of various applications that’ll serve adequately.”

Straightening its head, its posture fully straight with its arms back to its side in its former composed stance, the Fallen just stares back with its head tilted slightly down just enough to fix its sights on the man’s face. It then slowly raises both of its arms, its right hand closed in a fist but it's left open, and as the beast declares in a tone of slight intrigue: “Then I may treat you as an opponent,” both hands are brought over the chest, clashing against each other which results in minor black sparks.

At once, the Spirit takes one step forward, arching his arm back which is engulfed in blue fire, channeling it forward as he directs his fist to the stone opponent, releasing that fire that shapes into a circular crystal frisbee that the Fallen suddenly dodges with a left strafe, moving its body with mobility carried in a dash straight to the Spirit, grabbing his elbow and throwing him forward as the blue planet flashes black, replaced with an environment surrounded in thick pink gas like a nebula with streaks of orange, moving slowly around space like clouds, large enough that it fully encapsulates the two fighters along with a radius seemingly endless. Thrown forward again, the Spirit instinctively dashes to the left in avoidance of a black flash, retaliating with throwing motions from both hands, each of them producing a disk like a chakram made with crystal edges, three tossed total the first two of which land on the stone chest, causing a minor knockback though the last one doesn’t leave a visible impact before evaporating like the rest.

That brief stagger is enough for the Spirit to thrust forward as he equips himself with a crystallic bo staff, slamming the Fallen in a quick dash, causing another backward stumble as Meditat brakes a few feet past the target, spinning and boosting for another dash as he replaces the staff with a warhammer that he swings into the back, pushing the Fallen forward about a foot before being knocked to the side from being bashed in the face by a flail ball, the attacker now behind but at a different angle.

Back and forth in random angles, the Spirit executes quick strafing strikes on the stationary target, swapping to different blunt crystal weapons, swinging a mace, slamming a club, swaying a baton, throwing a nunchuck with an energy cable, resulting in every attack having a different pattern due to none of them being of the same weapon, throwing off the Fallen who’s quickly trapped in this flurry.

Bouncing in for another swing with a bludgeon in hand, the Spirit throws another attack aimed for the nape, though oddly enough the entire head of the bludgeon is consumed in a black flicker just before it can make contact, nearly enough to make impact but there’s just enough distance for him to notice given the subtle turn of the head. Similarly, the Fallen spins around before throwing its arm forward in a punch straight into the Spirit’s left lumbar, blowing a clean hole straight through his kidney like he was shot by a cannon. Before he can recover, another jab is made with surprisingly ferocious speed for his right breast, razing another gap that erases an edge of the pencil insignia, completed with one more punch straight for the center of the abdomen which not only blasts a third hole through but also thrusts his body backwards, or rather down in a plummet towards the grainy orange ground before he dashes in a partial vertical spin enough to reorient his body such that his boots graze the sand of the dune he’d have otherwise fell through whilst he patches the three wounds with fire bursts. Above him the sky has a bleak faint orange tone, whether that be the natural sky hues or a product of the grains being swept in the gentle breezes. More sand is swept into the air though as pockets appear in the ground upon black flickers, each pocket only about a foot deep with a minor radius though a rapid quantity appears in succession, the pockets appearing closer and closer to the Spirit who dashes backwards quicker while raising his head up to find the Fallen hovering in the air above him, black dots twinkling all around its body, each one signifying another invisible shot like a machine gun.

One stronger upward bound and the Spirit launches himself higher than the enemy, locking on and flicking his hand forward which produces three long rods built with their own propulsors to launch them forward, similar to the silver ones earlier though these rods are crystallic, the first two flaring up before landing on the Fallen’s forehead, each one the size of its head in fact, which causes a minor knockback to the neck though the last one doesn’t seem to make significant impact before evaporating like the rest. Just a second later, and it straightens its neck, recovered from the slight brush before a black sparkle emerges in front of it.

In quiet observation the Spirit notes, “That should’ve had enough blunt head force trauma to induce a concussion,” before he dashes down to avoid the flicker, though he’s nearly caught from the reappearance of the opponent throwing a jab for the neck, quickly protected with a crystal rounded shield that does successfully catch the fist though it shatters the whole shield on impact including the hand holding it, simultaneously launching him back up in the air, sending him towards a huge cloud not too far in the distance: a local sandstorm.

Flung straight into the storm, nearly all environment clarity is reduced to nothing as the Spirit finds himself trapped in the orange swarm, his body caught in the current and being levitated though he opposes it with his own boosts in an upward strafe just as a clearing is made through part of the storm, evaporating a path before the sand naturally fills in the gap.

Frantically the Spirit turns around as he deploys four spherical drones that remain over his shoulder, one of which fires a blue laser pointer that guides the Spirit’s sight in one direction which he aims his hand out to fire a barrage of darts, utilizing their own flight system but with crystal tips, however the laser pointer of that drone deactivates as the adjacent one turns on to fire in the direction behind the Spirit who spins to face that new angle, firing another volley of those same darts only for the laser pointer to turn off, signifying that it has yet again lost its target, leading him to spin on his own in hopes of catching the monster himself.

Ironically that target appears right in front of him, reaching for his head to which he dashes backwards before manifesting a dagger in his right hand, carrying a sharp crystal blade which is plunged directly into the hand, though it doesn’t easily penetrate as the crystal is evaporated on contact, making it impossible to make any significantly deep cuts. The strike does at least cause an adverse reaction as the Fallen promptly jerks its hand back with a grunt before the Spirit aims a smaller crossbow and holds down the trigger, firing a quick burst of five small crystal-tipped arrows into the stone shoulder which do hit, causing a slight flinch yet not close to the extent of damage weapons like that would do to an unarmored individual. Only about a foot in front of the enemy, the Spirit makes a flick with his wrist to summon three crystal kunai which all aim for the abdomen, though they crumble just an inch before contact after minor black twinkles, as though the seemingly natural shielding responsible for annihilating anything touching the stone randomly enlarged for just an instant. Before being able to adapt to the loss of his flow, the Spirit is smacked in the face by the Fallen’s backhand, completely blowing away the sandstorm in one fell swoop, but simultaneously vaporizing the full white mask whilst blowing the hood off the head which exposes the face just as a subtle translucent blue glow flickers over his skin, similar to the sheet effect of the disk shields he had given to his allies earlier as indication of a backup armor. However, the Spirit’s naked starry eyes widen in horror, dashing backwards and instinctively veiling his face with his hand as though suddenly prioritizing his own concealment, his wavy black hair now dancing like his cape.

Pausing the battle upon the strange act seemingly of timidness, the Fallen lowers its head before commenting, “You too wear a human’s body…interesting.” It raises its hand up by its chin in contemplation while discerning curiously, “Though that’s strange, your skin bears genetic resemblance to your brother’s…an intentful one.” Lowering its hand to its side, it concludes with subtle fascination in its ominous voice: “That’s right, this was the tone your Father gave you. So you’ve both chosen to maintain your image and even allowed it to age…a strange self-imposed weakness. That explains your erratic behavior towards Ookami, you’re not protecting your Core well at all.”

Emotions shifting from panic of having his face exposed, his identity as the former X-Prints C.E.O potentially revealed to an adversary, to recognizing that the specific identity isn’t even remotely garnering interest, but instead the strangely normal fact that it is an identity to begin with, that it is a face. He lowers his hands, no longer covering his face, realizing that this enemy shows no interest in what was behind the mask, or rather it seemed to already know given that it has been referring to his family which was highly secretive information only known by his closest allies and his devilish brother.

Gazing back at the enemy through those naked azure starry eyes that sharpen in a glare, his wavy hair beginning to flap more intensely as a dust of wind grazes him, the Spirit declares without hesitancy: “You seem mistaken, I AM human.”

An audible sigh exudes from the Fallen after that declaration to which it simply states in a disappointed tone: “The knowledge you were stripped of bled you of your identity, to know you brothers have the capacity to wield the greatest power in all of Reality yet you mistaken your own definition. You truly do believe you are simply ‘one of them.’”

Those last words spark a rage that burns in the Spirit’s eyes, a reminder of the perilous state his allies are in, endangered by the one who stands before him with seemingly no empathy or even interest for them. He had already met those who undermined a human’s value, the conflict between Exhuman and human extremists who undervalued one another but also his brother who simply saw neither lives as sacred. However even he acknowledged that some had value, at least to an emotional extent towards Meditat, if he chose to target them he did it knowing their importance to him whereas this new opponent seems to instead see no significance in their fate regardless if for the worst.

This monster didn’t love or hate, it was indifferent, a fact that burns Meditat as he dashed straight for it with his fist thrown forward for a bright punch, roaring before the monster raises its arm and grabs that fist which does jolt the stone body, though enough control is managed to transition both of them between black canvas and into another environment where the Fallen raises its arm, pulling the Spirit’s entire body up before throwing him forward.

He’s flung forward in open space, his body hurtling towards a large rocky surface like an asteroid, though before he reaches it he arches his arm back, manifesting a long flame in his grip which he throws forward in the formation of a spear that rockets forward on a silver pole, the blade itself crystallic, flaring as it follows the man’s trail who observes it keenly, watching it guide for a shot in the shoulder aimed specifically between the stone plates, targeting the hollow pit. A few feet from impact and a black twinkle flashes in front of the Fallen, followed immediately with the entire spear’s blade shattering into fine grains, leaving the pole to simply burn itself on contact.

Watching that unsuccessful strike, an observation clicks after noting that preceding blink, and after aligning it with scattered memories of the past few minutes he notes with a relieved smirk, “So he isn’t just simply adapting to the crystals, he’s manually stopping it, no wonder those punches lost effectiveness earlier. Even if he’s still more resilient than a normal opponent, he’s not invincible.”

The Spirit lands on the surface which he begins sliding down, the actual width of the surface not that immense as it’s only about ten feet wide whereas the rock is the length of over a hundred, shaped like a pillar which passively rotates, exerting a strange gravitational pull that drags him towards the center along the surface. Many other asteroids of this similarly stretched scale can be seen in the distance, as though the shape isn’t an uncommon occurrence. After comprehending his situation, the phenomenon unnatural though not his greatest priority, the Spirit returns his gaze back to the enemy as he raises both hands forward which begin releasing flames, preparing his next plan that he decides: “Those counters aren’t consistent meaning he’s exerting his own conscious attention on it, then stressing through quantity might breach his defense,” as those flames harden in the creation of a light machine gun with a long barrel about half his height, fitted with a physical bolt that begins jittering once he pulls the trigger, firing shots with blue traces.

These shots aren’t blue energy bolts designed for non-physical neutralization though, instead they’re physical rounds, expertly cut in the shape of bullets with sharp tips, the body entirely crystallic. The rounds have the size and speed to deliver fatal hits, launched at a rapid pace given that the light machine gun sounds like a lawnmower, the barrel lighting up constantly like fireworks.

The first fifty or so bullets, which were fired in about a second or so, are wiped in a black flash, again sanding it into harmless dust. However the gun was fired not at a burst but continuous rate, many more passing through those flashes, reaching the stone armor where they wildly scatter over the body, not fired at a precise point but instead over the general target. Sparks blink off the Fallen’s body who’s knocked backwards as it raises its arm forward, as if grabbing the stream of bullets, letting many of them strike the open palm before vanishing.

Sliding down the long rock, Meditat launches into a flip right before the Fallen appears behind him, inserting its hand into the rock surface which not only digs through like it’s mush, but results in a sudden explosion from within the asteroid itself, causing it to burst into many separate chunks, luckily none of them colliding against Meditat who drifts atop one, the chunks remaining pretty close together in the same general pole shape. He throws his hand forward which lets go of a small fireball that manifests into a ball made oddly not of crystal but silver metal instead, a strange backtrack. The Fallen just watches it in that same confuddlement, letting it nearly graze its body though not at a dangerous velocity due to it being tossed, however before it does touch the body it automatically explodes, yet this explosion causes the opponent to drift backwards as though somehow impacted.

Ditching the machine gun, the Spirit replaces his firearm with one better resembling a grenade launcher given the fatter barrel and drum, firing rounds at a far slower pace with them also not being externally crystallic.

However as they all approach the Fallen and detonate themselves, every single one of them causes irritation, the explosions composed of gas though it’s been proven to be ineffective before. Being stricken with every grenade, the Fallen just focuses on the rounds, trying to understand the effect.

It’s at a level of detail vastly keener than what normal sight would allow, microscopic focus at intense concentration that seconds feel like they stretch, each grenade’s explosion results in not only that whole silver spherical casing layer being eviscerated, but for a hidden layer of crystal shrapnel to be ejected, tiny pieces that grab onto the body, causing the irritation.

Zooming out after detecting the surprisingly intricate mechanisms, proving that even when restrained to one material there were still many exploits in how it could be used, the Fallen takes action with the raise of its hand from which a spark emerges from, and the next instant the entire line of grenades in motion are prematurely detonated, including the one inside the launcher, blowing up on the Spirit which throws him off, the launcher’s entire barrel torn apart.

While it’d be best to replace the weapon with another offensive tool, the Spirit is forced to make the next construct defensive, forming a thick metal wall in front of him akin to the blast doors from Icarus, made just in time before the wall splits in half across the horizontal.

Though as the two halves float in different directions, what’s revealed behind is that the Spirit’s body does the same, his upper body above the hips slowly ascending as his legs depress, pouring blood out of the clean cut which quickly freeze up in the vacuum before the lower half bursts into flames, evaporating simultaneous as another set of flaming legs extends from the wound, reconstructed just in time for Meditat to dash to the side in avoidance of another flash though brakes his dash just a few inches before ramming into the Fallen who has reappeared in front of him, standing in space with its feet at the same level as his, though its grand stature results in it towering over him with a torso so broad that he can’t even see past, his eyes shriveling from the shock. Even though in this moment he can just dash backwards, he feels frozen in place, his gaze locked onto the stone abdomen where those bright caustics dance along the abrupt void beneath the plates, being reminded of his enemy’s monstrous figure. He just stares for a moment, determining the options he has, but in knowing that his opponent would be making the same judgment, he makes the quickest choice perhaps off instinct by throwing his right fist forward, the knuckles in his fist flaring just as before.

This time before a punch can be made, the Fallen swiftly blocks the punch with a backhand slap to the palm thus erasing it as the space around them blinks before bringing them in space where there can be seen a distant orange planet though it’s undergoing a strange fragmentation where the whole globe splits from the center into two identically orange globes which continue to steadily drift apart, however the Spirit doesn’t even notice as he throws his left arm forward, though this time his whole forearm bursts with flames before constructing a gauntlet made of crystals, meticulous plating that still maintains the general shape of his arm and hand, the fingers and palm being segmented into several smaller plates that are fairly flexible enough to close his hand into a fist to punch the abdomen, incinerating the glove of the gauntlet however the smaller hand underneath it remains intact. Before any celebration can be made, he recreates his right arm and raises it with a flame that forms a circular shield to block a hook, losing the shield in the process but at least protecting his body, though the sky blinks again to bring them back out to space right in front of a massive vortex resembling a black hole in that there is a solid event horizon with a visible photon ring along it but a far greater accretion disk surrounding the whole structure, however the primary difference is that rather than the event horizon being black– a fundamental component that provides it its signature name– it is instead entirely white. This strange structure at least doesn’t has a physical effect such as pulling on the Spirit who is instead focused on countering that punch to the shield by dropping said shield and manifesting another glove over his hand which features crystal claws used to try slashing at the body only for that swing to be caught by the Fallen’s wrist who retaliates with a jab for the Spirit’s right shoulder, that jab making contact and blowing off an entire chunk of the shoulder as the environment changes again to one within a sky blue atmosphere seemingly high in the air of an Earth-like planet given that there are distant white clouds albeit the clouds are on their wider side spread vertically beside them as though they’re not standing upright to the surface. What may be harder to explain though is that among the sky are many black dots, a glitter of them even, though one dot is far larger in the shape of a globe though it’s almost large enough to the size of a planet if the two were in space, at the distant of where the moon would be. The globe has swirls of purple and blue clouds over it like nebulas above gray continents seemingly made of stone like asteroids which sit on those black oceans dark as the cosmic canvas. Above this strange planet if it can be identified as such are the two combatants, the Spirit rebuilding his shoulder and throwing his left arm with a reformed gauntlet this time noticeably larger than the first, almost double the size of his own arm however it’s caught by the Fallen’s backhand, though that backhand is knocked back from the hit, destroying the front face of the gauntlet but letting the Spirit get a punch to the chest with his own glove’s knuckles even if it means losing the hand again.

He takes another injury while countering another strike from the Fallen before retaliating with his own before countering another before retaliating before countering, a process accelerating with both of their movements, each of the Fallen’s attempted hits resulting in the scene skipping to another from a sky with an odd reflective nature as if made of mirrors sliding similar to the octahedron, then in space above a large tilted disk with a familiar albeit warped view of the white cloudy swirls over green and brown continents on the blue ocean, close to the sight of Earth but strangely flat, the rim of which features the white lands of presumably the arctic. After another exchange of blows they appear standing over a long wooden bridge which actually combusts from the excess forces exerted between the two, then a forest however the trees hang from above, resulting in the branches arching upwards with further trees higher up.

Finally after getting an uppercut to the stomach which vaporizes not only that but his chest, the Spirit dashes backwards, vital organs exposed as the bags of his lungs have been cut open same as his heart, pouring out blood towards the floor that does have notable gravitational pull before the wound is sealed, as the environment does appear to be on a planet given that there’s some sort of hard dark blue ice beneath them.

They aren’t on a flat landscape, but instead on some sort of mountain given the variance in height for peaks above and below, the ground not discernible due to its width. While there is white snow falling from the sky, none of it sticks to the ground, the entire mountain’s surface made of this dark blue ice as detectable by its texture and gentle reflections, a strange composition for a mountain yet it clearly holds together. The shape is also more or less conal with peaks and depressions, though the rise has inconsistent inclines with the one the two stand on being particularly flatter. Along the mountain there are several rivers that flow similar to how lava would on a volcano, though the liquid’s blue tones give the impression of it simply being water.

Surveying this ice mountain before raising its head off to the sky aimlessly, the Fallen observes in a murmur: “Interesting, it seems your allies are making a brash offensive effort against my Pawns, have they made a discovery?”

Turning forward with a glare to what felt like mockery, Meditat groans through gritted teeth and makes a minor leap forward as his entire body emits a flame like a fireball, encasing him in a mechanical armor with similar proportions both in height and broadness to the opponent, most of the body opaque with a white skin-like material overlaid with plates of crystal armor that is most prominent on the arms and fists, though oddly enough the plates aren’t planted on the base material but rather it levitates just a few centimeters off, only discernible as there’s a minor slit between the plate and armor in a manner similar to his cape now hidden inside the suit. It lacks a neck though, the head instead integrating into the shoulders, allowing for a translucent blue-tinted window to let the Spirit peer through, his body attached to some exoskeleton inside allowing for piloting since his arms and legs fit partially through the armor’s, as it isn’t nearly large enough that his whole body can be housed in a single compartment like the torso. Still, he’s capable of controlling it just fine, maneuvering it to charge at the Fallen, each step heavy yet confident, mechanically tough but stable enough that it doesn’t even crack the ice under. Through the suit he throws a punch at the Fallen who takes a step back while raising its arm up, blocking the punch, naturally decimating that fist, only the crystal plating over the fingers though due to their separation, furthermore there’s still another that punches the abdomen, managing to stagger it, allowing for a flurry of a few quick jabs to the same area by replacing the broken crystal plating until the Fallen doesn’t physically step back but instead reappear a few feet backwards, making the next few quick punches miss due to lack of reach, and after realizing this the Spirit takes a step back and raises both fists in front of its face in a boxing stance which faces the forearm plating towards the Fallen who now makes a charge forward.

Quick jabs and hooks compliment each other in a rapid flurry, every punch to the crystal armor causing the plate to evaporate, requiring another to be made in replacement, meaning that the Spirit is constantly expelling flames to reinforce his suit just to keep up with the attacks, leaving little time for a counter. Inside the mechanical armor he begins taking steps back to seek separation, though the Fallen pursues relentlessly, not only lunging forward but also reappearing at will to close gaps instantly, throwing the Spirit off, its arms stuck in front of its face as lowering it for even an instant would leave him vulnerable. All he can do is continue taking steps back, trying best not to trip, the large metal feet grasping onto the ice floor which at least isn’t too slippery though he does slide slightly after every punch from the force of impact.

Stuck on defense, the Spirit keeps his guard up while backtracking, trying to buy even a second to retaliate though every step back he takes is another the Fallen advances forth. There’s a limited distance he can backtrack though as eventually the heel of his armor reaches the edge of one of those aforementioned streams, and with a quick glance back he observes the flow of liquid resembling water though with a strong light blue tone that seems to almost be emitting its own glow, moving slowly without obstruction.

In preparation to leap backwards over the river to gain space, the white heel tilts towards the liquid, ready to spring back. However as it remains right by the glowing liquid, the white skin-like material of the heel begins frosting rapidly, the frost growing to cover both the feet and knee in seconds.

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Inside the armor’s cockpit, the Spirit faces through the wide screen to his opponent still throwing punches at him, though his attention is swayed to the side after multiple other holographic windows pop up in front of the screen, containing flashing warning symbols and diagrams of the mechanical leg with icons resembling thermometers whose bars are quickly dropping. Realizing that the stream presents its own danger as it’s surprisingly cold, he grits his teeth as his eyes flare brighter and flames expel from his shoulders, crawling into the exoskeletal casing and emerging off of the vastly larger shoulder blades of the suit, shoulders reinforced with crystal plates that are relinquished. Both pairs of plates are instead replaced with mounted turret guns larger than the pilot’s head, one of them carrying several narrow barrels and another with only a single wider one. The first gun’s set of barrels begin rotating at a rapid acceleration before firing a barrage of crystallic bullets at a pace of a minigun, immediately forcing the Fallen to take a few steps back and raise its own arms in defense, taking on the shots at nearly point blank range. A few feet of distance is accomplished in seconds from the consistent barrage, allowing the Spirit to begin using the second turret to fire small rockets which explode near impact, the head releasing crystallic shrapnel onto the target in greater volume than the grenades and with better direction since it dispenses out in a cone shape to keep the spread focused on the enemy’s body. While the rockets fire nowhere as fast as the machine gun, one is shot per second, delivering solid knockback on the Fallen who summons more sparkles that rip apart the rockets before they can reach anywhere close, also using it to hold back the bullet line.

The Spirit steps away from the cold river, advancing pressure onto the enemy as dominance begins to shift, but that’s until the Fallen flings its arm forward, too far away to make physical contact on the mechanical armor but it instead directs a quick flurry of flickers that not only decimates the machine barrage and rockets, but it slices off all four metal limbs by the shoulders and pelvis, rendering the suit into a giant tin box that is propelled backwards, distancing from the metal limbs which reveals not only the several layers of metals and foams in the armor but also the spurting blood due to the fact that the pilot’s own limbs were slipped into them too. The torso of the armor vanishes in an open flame, releasing the Spirit who only consists of his torso and head, both arms and legs completely gone and instead shooting out blood from all four channels. Those channels are swiftly rebuilt with a new set of limbs as the Spirit dashes upwards, aiming both new hands at the Fallen to unleash multiple blazes that each manifest into missiles that propel themselves down to the mountain, airbursting right over the stone beast and raining crystal debris all over in consistent succession. Some of the missiles miss and instead strike the ground around the Fallen, and after a few of those occurrences, the ground suddenly begins rumbling rather intensely, enough that the Fallen nearly stumbles while still hit by the stream of missiles.

Noting the quaking also due to the ice rocks scattered around the mountains jittering along with an ominous gurgling sound from beneath the Fallen, the Spirit instinctively dashes backwards in a long lunge about thirty feet back just as the floor beneath the stone beast abruptly explodes with an eruption of icy blue liquid launching in all directions as intense vapor raises to cover the sky.

Like a volcanic eruption, the liquid pouring out is in great chunks, forcing the Spirit to begin evasively dashing frantically in avoidance, unsure of if his suit can handle the temperature especially since it was affecting his mechanical armor. He makes quick dashes to dodge the icy meteors, zipping with cables towards some to avoid others, trying to keep his gaze in the general direction of his opponent though his focus is being split due to the potentially fatal environmental hazard, unable to get an easy glance of the stone body as the eruption had completely devoured it.

Even after taking the full force of the volcanic eruption, that opponent simply launches straight through the icy rain that doesn’t even mark the armor including the hand that reaches forward to grab the Spirit by the chest, the hand large enough to do so with the sharp fingertips helping as they sink into the suit, causing him to wince in pain. He’s forced backwards as the head of this launch that the stone enemy drags him through, leaving the active volcanic eruption in a black flicker, dragging the Spirit into the black void of what would be space again, though there aren’t any stars or nebulas present, in fact the space is completely black, or at least it would be other than strange cosmically gargantuan vein-like streaks scattered deep into the abyss which emit gentle pink luminescence, not individually stranded but instead connected like a web in all directions, encapsulating the abyss. Their size is difficult to tell as their distance is too, but they’re likely far due to being unmoving as the Fallen throws the Spirit forward, leaving him to spin before braking.

The Spirit instinctively spins around to meet the Fallen as he bellows, swinging his arm forward to launch a huge flame that spreads multiple times wider than his own body, deploying an array of missiles that continue flight to the Fallen, exploding prematurely all around it with these explosions being notably larger than the airbursts, and to reinforce it the Spirit aims his free hand back to release multiple streams behind himself which morph into hovering gun turrets of the size that’d be mounted on old warships, bodies about a building’s story tall, the wide barrels all flaring up before firing large ballistic crystal rounds in a steady rate, tacking additional brute damage on top of the continual missile barrage.

The target reappears about ten feet higher than before, evading the missiles and cannons at least before they can adjust aim, the Spirit being the first to notice the movement, but before he can redirect the barrage he witnesses a black sparkle, instead prompting the next flame forward to form a crystal wall to shield himself from the choreographed attack.

Oddly enough though there isn’t one as the wall isn’t torn, instead the Fallen reappears right behind the Spirit, instantly surrounding him with its body as one barrier and the crystal wall as the other, letting it easily grab the Spirit and launch him in the other direction as the pink veins dim away, the scene swapping to a vast winter tundra with distant mountains at night where several beacons connect the white ground past those far cliffs to the black sky of night, green faded beacons like the rays of an aurora borealis. Throwing the Spirit higher in the air along the path it flies towards, the Fallen summons sparkles which the Spirit counters with both hands to the side, igniting a ring of fire around him which functions as a generator from which missiles emerge from, ten at a time every second, autonomously honing such that while they all launch at a distance from one another along the ring they curve in to a tighter line for the impacts to occur at quicker succession, though some are eviscerated prematurely due to the sparkles. One single twinkle is made though notably larger, which suddenly destroys all three waves of missiles at once for just a moment, enough for the gap to be closed and for the Fallen to throw a punch into the Spirit’s chest, blowing a hole that completely removes the pencil insignia as the man spins backwards into the next environment: another nightly region though the sky is far more cloudy with a green hue. There is a weather on this world in the form of rain pouring on them, however upon contact the rain doesn’t seem to wetten the Spirit’s suit but instead release a puff of mist as though not made of liquid but instead gas, perhaps explaining why the rain is strangely quieter.

At least unaffected by the gaseous rain, the Spirit patches the hole in his chest as he throws his fist forward, the fist igniting a flame that swiftly spreads to form another mechanical humanoid with the white textured body, though this one has the scale more aligned with his former giants which are about fifty feet tall, lacking any body armor with the only crystal plating being the ones on the fists and forearms, its right arm animating in the same motion as its creators in that it throws a punch forward right as the knuckle plates brighten, timed well to punch the Fallen who oddly loses focus to daze off to the side while murmuring, “Are they genuinely pushing against them?” before being knocked backwards but it then retaliates with several twinkles which result in the titan being suddenly fractured into countless smaller pieces, cutting both the crystal plating and the body itself, resulting in collapse to let the opponent reach the man on the other side, attempting to barricade himself with a crystal wall placed in between, though before the fire even fully hardens it is met with a black flash that shatters the wall the instant after completion, though in desperation to remain away the Spirit dashes back to leave more separation, guiding –with his eyes that oddly flickers white– another volley of crystal cannonballs which do make impact but on top of that they’ve been engineered such that they immediately explode from the inside to spread shrapnel before the ball can be fully destroyed by touch.

Even then the Fallen just counters by simply punching all of the cannonballs approaching, each punch causing a blink that results in multiple nearby cannonballs also being minced as if there’s a chaining effect that cannot be seen itself other than its results. Due to this, the stone beast continues to approach the Spirit despite these frantic attempts for pushback, that desperation manifesting in the brightening of the Spirit’s eyes to the extent that the center of his irises flash a white pulsation that crawls to the ends of the star’s streaks in constant pulses. He bellows with his fists thrown forward, “GET AWAY FROM ME,” just as the Fallen reaches for him, but rather than its stone beast grabbing the man, the man instinctively grabs at the Fallen despite the physical damages it’d cause, but more importantly while the environment around them flashes away, it’s in a blindingly bright white flash rather than a black one.

In fact the environment they’re brought into isn’t alike any before, for the two find themselves in a white void, frozen in position. However the white space seemingly consuming them begins to splinter into individual rays that soar across a single direction past the Fallen and then the Spirit, a boundless quantity just appearing from as far as what can be seen in one direction and soaring to as far as what can be seen in the other, separated from the two in a manner that the rays resemble the walls of a tunnel, like the interior lights being passed when driving at great speeds. Suddenly a bombardment of voices chatter in all directions, entirely incoherent due to the mass akin to a rally, pulling Meditat’s perplexed gaze –eyes returned to blue– to survey the tunnel, losing focus of the battle. His jaw lowers on instinct to inquiry though he isn’t able to emit a word, his head transfixed as though caught in a trance.

While his azure starry eyes are back to their natural dimness, they strangely pulsate from the white pupil like the ripples of a lake as that collection of voices continues, sounds of casual conversation, raging fires, horns of animals similar to elephants, all perpetually, at once, stacked on each other in a point of overloading him.

When his eyes stop reflecting the simple view of the white rays, they instead reflect flickering images of huge metropolises under yellow suns, luscious rainforests with orange leaves, what looks like many glowing yellow prisms overlapping one another as they rotate while their centers remain fixed to the same point.

While these specific are embedded in his mind, the tunnel encasing him is splintering rapidly, rays bending outwards in the formation of an intricate network with multiple in all directions, reacting to the visions he’s receiving or rather the observations being made which the Fallen takes note of with a curious glance around the tunnel, its wrist still gripped by the man’s. Its focus begins to loom though as the black void underneath the stone begins to glisten a dim dark green luminescence.

Stuck in the trance of overloading images and voices, Meditat is unable to turn his head, still hearing a mix of various sounds like gunshots, roaring flames, high winds, and lightning crackling, though all the voices slim into general intense shouting, some of the voices oddly familiar which triggers a curious wince. Oddly enough all the additional tunnels begin to close as the rays branching out straighten once more, gradually returning the passage to a straight path.

That is when one voice’s words can be heard, a desperate cry: “WATCH OUT!” which is shouted in that familiar electrically toned voice of his best friend, and in that moment the images fixate on the battlefield within the train’s prison room, the army of pirates racing down the corridors in tight hurried packs, and among them is the golden cyborg.

Only then does Meditat’s head turn, and he desperately shouts, “COMING!” In fact right before Meditat’s eyes there emerges a new tunnel wider than the other sub-passages, and the continued shouts emit precisely from that tunnel, and at the end of the tunnel there is the golden brown glow of the metallic wood shine though flickering with chaotic glares of bright gold, pink, red, blue, and other shades presumably from the crew fighting back.

Locking in the path to his friends, Meditat grits his teeth and lets go of the Fallen’s wrist as he tries boosting towards that tunnel, but before he can his arm is swiftly grabbed by the Fallen who he tries to push against, using his knee to repeatedly kick the Fallen’s forearm, and while strangely enough his leg actually remains intact, there is hardly any wavering of the arm. Instead the Fallen directs its focus to a newly opening tunnel in the opposite direction, one where at the far end is a black void. Just by staring at this tunnel, the two are pulled into that direction away from Meditat’s desired path to which he growls, aiming his hand straight at the stone head before releasing an azure blaze to conjure a weapon, though it oddly disperses without conforming to a shape, waning despite how hard he tenses his hand. After trying to concentrate on his power for a few seconds, he gives up and reverts to physical resistance, unable to move his right hand but at least able to use both legs to kick the Fallen’s left arm as his growls raise to an enraged roar.

Though none of his efforts make an effect, the two continue through this tunnel away from the original branch. The Fallen’s focus remains forth as Meditat’s is back, not even sure how the mechanisms of this alien world function though he has absolute confidence that reaching the tunnel in the other direction would return him home, it was simply an innate feeling but one that without conscious logic he felt he could trust above all. But despite his efforts, the direction of movement is unchanged, and gradually the bright rays begin to fade. They however don’t fade to black but instead an azure blue tone, which does finally switch Meditat’s attention, prompting him to glance around himself with bewilderment struck. That shade starts to fade too a few seconds later or at least what he perceives to be a few seconds, turning into more of a cyan, confusing him even more as it reminds him inherently of the supersun. The Fallen doesn’t show a change in expression, its eyeless gaze fixed towards the dark destination, but that’s when the rays abruptly flicker a harsh crimson red thrice before reverting back to its prior white rays which start to straighten forward, closing off the tunnel they’re moving down to which the Fallen does show an expression in the form of a subtle irritated head turn, murmuring: “I was right, it’s not enough.”

In that moment of contemplation, its grip loosens, allowing Meditat to slip his arm out of the hold and dash in the opposite direction. This quick act returns the stone enemy’s attention back, hastily reaching for the man and only managing to grab the left ankle, but just before the stone fingers can curl around that leg his other leg kicks it, throwing off the Fallen’s reach who instinctively sways its arm straight again which releases a black flash, or rather a ray that emerges from its fingers and projects towards Meditat’s right’s foot, and in that moment many of the rays passing them is instead black, blending with the whites amongst a concerning deep hum until the ray makes contact, eviscerating both his foot and knee after which the hum silences and the last black rays pass followed only by whites. Following through with the motion, the Fallen grabs Meditat’s other foot as the man winces in concentration to regenerate though is oddly unable to do so, yet he remains moving forward without deceleration as though somehow the towering stone goliath is pulled in with the vastly shorter man, as if weight is irrelevant in this space. Being forced to face the direction of the man’s desired opening where those flashings can be seen presumably from the other battle, the Fallen observes, “The Exhumans are…oddly effective,” in a voice calculative though almost anxious. It then comments, “A manufactured clone of the Ancient Warriors,” though the tone becomes more confident after irritated acceptance, and from there action is taken as the Fallen swings Meditat’s body away from home and instead to the right just as the tunnel rays protrude out in front of him in the formation of another passage which he flies through, guiding the Fallen whose body is pulled into the dense path blindingly bright.

In the air hovers a mysterious white disk, the flat side facing forward, about six feet in radius though the plate isn’t simply static white but instead the face has the fluid motions of white rays branching out from the center. That is at least what the movement may appear from the outside when in fact it is the same flow of the tunnel that is strangely flat from facing in, just a mere cross-section in the air, though there is depth to it as flying backwards out of that cross-section is the Spirit, his arms and legs dangling towards the aperture before he spins around and dashes forward, glancing around using his naked starry eyes to find that he’s once again underneath an atmosphere this one having a blood red sky with pure black clouds. His focus is pulled down to more importantly survey his immediate surroundings which he’s already been passing, colossal pillars raised from the ground made of a strange dark turquoise material with the roughness of stone though the reflective power of metal. They aren’t mere poles though as they’re to the scale of skyscrapers found in his home’s silver city, not of uniform size though many seem to reach near the clouds, the width of city blocks, as for a moment the Spirit ponders if he was back on a civilized world.

His attention returns behind himself to find that the white disk begins to shut, but not before the emergence of the Fallen who carries with it a black flicker that the Spirit dodges before a slender chunk of one of the pillar’s sides is ripped, as if slashed by a gigantic blade. In retaliation, the Spirit throws forward his hands in the opposite direction to release azure flames that manifest into huge hovering cannons that immediately fire rockets at the Fallen, and while the rocket’s proximate self destruction was anticipated, what it surprising is that the explosion releases a thick smoke that consumes the stone body.

Strangely enough the Spirit doesn’t follow up his attacks but instead continues soaring the other way as his hips project blue cables that allow him to zip between the pillars the way he’d swing through his city, and while doing so he throws both hands up which projects two flames that manifest rockets that boost for the sky as they reveal fins on their sides, neither of them arching back down as they don’t appear to be weapons which can be gathered from the Spirit’s quick command, “Orial, check if there’s proximate life present on this world,” while the cloud of smoke enlarges over the Fallen.

“Very well sir,” promptly accepts Orial before inquiring, “Though may I ask why-,” just as the entire smoke cloud is pierced in multiple directions upon being met by black flashes, many of those black flashes also blowing huge gaps through the pillars, managing to graze the Spirit’s thigh by ripping off his leg though he continues onward, simply regenerating it while a flame bursts from his back to manifest a fleet of five pods that race in the opposite direction, not straight at the Fallen though but instead above it where they open a hatch on the bottom which drops clusters of orbs that all have their own propulsors to quicken their path near the target before exploding, some of the orbs falling near buildings where the explosions blow chunks off its side. Oddly enough without the Spirit noticing, the chunks blown off the pillars do not plummet towards the ground but rather rise into the air, ascending above the pods that continue a few more blocks before turning around with sharp upwards rolls while another set of cannons are created off the Spirit’s shoulders, providing support fire with heavy ballistic rounds, all a distraction as the Spirit reveals his larger plan: “I’m not sure what space I was in earlier but I know I can return to Dana and the others through it, I know it. I thought I could only return to them through that opponent but that’s false, I don’t need him, if I can just open another gate and get in alone I’m sure I can get back. I just need to keep him away until then, but I finally have a clear objective.” He glances behind himself with the murmur, “I just need proper execution,” while observing that while the two pods at the edge of the fleet drop another cluster, the other three are punctured through the centers before they’re given a chance, resulting in them exploding in the air which catches the other two pods, igniting them in a chain.

He faces forward and zips in a sharp right turn, using the pillars as the walls of a labyrinth to keep himself out of sight, his movement amplified with boosts though the cables allow for nimble shifts in direction such that in only a few seconds he can’t even see the smoke from those earlier explosions. He keeps his tense gaze onward, projecting cables from his hips, shoulders, and back though leaves his hands free to instead fire flames forward, unleashing small streams though ones that don’t build any constructs. He grits his teeth with a stern face, for he’s not trying to create any mere physical weapon but instead recreate the gate, however it’s clear he’s unsure of its procedure despite having already executed it. He fires a few flaming attempts before his focus is forced backwards to find a field of huge black flickers in that general direction scattered over multiple blocks before all the sudden the pillars in those blocks are minced into countless fragments that crumble, and for a brief moment in that rocky rain that rises to the sky, there can be seen the silhouette within the inverted storm.

The Spirit races in constant swerves like a slither both vertical and horizontal using a combination of quick boosts as well as rapid zips, executing a hasty maneuver between pillars in order to keep away from the Fallen’s grasp that inevitably reappears right over his body, reaching for the arm though missing due to that sudden spike in speed. As the Fallen completes follow through of the failed grab, it tilts its head to face the Spirit who, now being confronted at a far closer distance, concludes its slithering movement with an ultimate backward spin coupled with arching his arm back before throwing an exaggerated punch forward, but during the windup of that swing his entire body erupts in an immense blaze a couple blocks in width but more importantly its height reaches all the way down to the stone surface about 800 feet low, the flame morphing into a humanoid shape which is in the same pose as the Spirit, and halfway through the forward motion it materializes to a titan made of the same white skin texture with parallelogram blue eyes and massive crystals over the body, however these crystals are far less refined with jagged edges on the jaw but more importantly the gauntlet of the right arm being thrown forward, the major spikes taller than an average person due simply to how great its size is, standing over many of the highrise-tall pillars around. As the titan grounds itself with booms at its feet upon even the minor drop, the entire body animates in that exaggerated punch, the crystal’s hum to the intensity of a hurricane’s winds, throwing the closed fist forward which is several magnitudes larger than the stone target now appearing miniscule in comparison.

That one punch makes contact, though the mark isn’t even visible as the punch extends in followthrough to collide with the pillars behind, the fist and elbow breaking straight through the obelisks enough that the upper portion crumbles against the arm, shattering on contact and rolling off the monstrous titan during ascension.

Well behind that titan swings the Spirit, not inside the machine but rather using it as a distraction to continue making distance as he keeps both hand forward, firing more flaming streams in attempt to forge another gate yet he finds himself unable to do so, his only studying being memories of the few glimpses of the opening yet with such minimal understanding of the gates he struggles to follow through the proper instructions. Frantic contemplation eats his face as he recalls his brother’s opening of his own gate back when he ambushed the Peak, the first instance where the Spirit witnessed such an ability, having spent time trying to determine what technology it was composed of to have negated the effects of his tether device. However even after having built a gate himself, he’s still unsure of that technology or if there is any to begin with, as the interior was simply ethereal, unexplainable. Perhaps after the ambush he should have spent more time attempting to build his own gates as it could’ve prepared him better for this moment, which he scoffs to himself for not doing despite having truly no mechanism to know of its necessary utility in this one specific encounter. He raises his head up though in surprise to find that further on ahead forth is the end of this field, closed off by a great wall stretching for as far as can be seen still tall even compared to the pillars, beyond which there are no more pillars but instead a field of strange box-shaped structures similar to factory plants in that they also vary by size with some not composed strictly as a rectangular prism but with slants or housing a few pillars though dramatically smaller than the ones he’s racing between. They’re made of a similarly metallic turquoise material like the pillars, shiny though rough. Without those pole-shaped structures best for his cables to swing from, he’d no longer have the advantage of an environment, requiring him to begin assessing his next options to buy time.

His desperate assessment for ideas is cut abruptly after turning back to watch that happen to the titan, a few blinks preceding the sudden slicing of its limbs and torso, butchering the body into chunks that burst out in all directions as if it exploded from the inside, crashing into the surrounding pillars, many of the chunks still large enough to fly through the solid natural constructs and trigger collapses.

Gritting his teeth in agitation to the inadequate duration of his breaks, the Spirit spins around once again and simply extends his right arm forward at a slight downward tilt to point his index finger forth at where the Fallen appears about twenty feet in front, which is when he finally notices that the rubble of the collapsed pillars are not falling to the ground but instead are being lifted to the sky. His eyebrow raises in confuddlement but his focus realigns just before that finger fires a stream of flames that only extend a few feet but produce a huge crystal round the size of his torso, which flies forward and crashes into the Fallen. That’s not all, but the stream is sustained, producing multiple rounds a second at the speed of an assault rifle, knocking the Fallen back with no reduction in speed, pressing until the enemy is flung back into one of the pillars.

Crashing into the pillar which cracks slightly from impact, the Fallen’s body is pressed against the wall as the bullets function like rapid punches entirely made of bright crystals, though from summoning a barrage of flickers around itself those bullets are razed to dust before making impact, slowly pushing against the bullets. The flickers rise in rapidity, resulting in the distance the bullets travel to depress rather quickly.

Noticing this resistance, the Spirit’s eyebrows sharpen before he raises his middle finger to sit beneath the pointer as his stream widens just slightly, but instead of continuing to produce bullets, it instead creates rockets that soar on their own. The Spirit does with zips and dashes backwards though his body remains facing the enemy, understanding that if he wants the safety of opening the gate without being followed, he’d need to subdue this opponent. Those rockets have that purpose, not following the straight path but instead curving out to catch the Fallen off guard, detonating all around it which blasts the stone enemy back against the pillar which is quickly drilled through as chunks are blown off from the missile’s explosions, pushing the Fallen deeper in the hole though upon noticing all these chunks it summons several black flashes near it despite it not falling towards its body therefore not seeming a threat that needs to be destroyed.

Maintenance of this barrage isn’t too difficult, giving the Spirit time to continue his meditation on opening the gate, however it’s cut short as to his shock he finds another barrage soaring for him, not as flashes but instead a volley of physical debris down from the pillar, many of them as large as if not larger than him.

Unable to evade the bombardment as it’d require losing concentration of his own, the Spirit instead raises his left hand with all five fingers stretched, facing the incoming hail before each finger begins shooting its own flames that produce rockets that glow blindingly bright like flares though they lack any crystal components given a lack of need, five shot every second’s fraction, twenty shot in just a whole. At close range to the debris, the flare missiles release their own discharge, blowing up the rocks with such immense energy that it fully vaporizes the chunks, leaving not even crumbles left.

In short work the entire hailstorm is neutralized, allowing Meditat to curl his three fingers other than the index and middle, aiming it forward in parallel with his right hand before firing rockets out of it, their cylindrical bodies having a translucent energy casing to allow visibility of smaller cylinders sitting inside what appears to be a cylindrical casing like that of a revolver in the center, with one pole in the middle. As those rockets reach the stone body already being imbued into the pillar, that pole expels all the smaller cylinders out of the energy casing, letting them explode autonomously, releasing greater explosions with their own crystal shrapnel to assist the main warhead.

In just seconds, this dual barrage of rockets shoves the Fallen deeper into the pillar as the missiles explode all around it, using enough explosive power to divide the tower into a quarter base and the upper portion that begins to slowly rise, ascending away from the stone enemy who raises its head before grabbing onto the bottom of the drifting piece as though intending to hold it down, digging its claws into the metal.

Sustaining these dual streams isn’t too challenging for the Spirit especially with the lack of resistance as it seems he finally has the edge over in terms of oppression, however that changes with a horrified stare upon watching the top three-fourth of the pillar that was separated now flying straight at him as if thrown like a spear, flung with surprisingly great force that despite its weight it approaches quickly, aimed perfectly for him too.

His view gradually being covered by the approaching tower, thoughts run through the Spirit’s head, his initial instinct to either sway it off him or raze it in order to let him keep this steady barrage, however when faced with a substantially greater projectile if that’s what it can be called, he’s aware that just remaining stationary would be dangerous in case diversion or eradication fails. He’d need to move away, though doing so would relinquish his concentration on the Fallen, providing the opportunity for retaliation. Thus the Spirit would need to keep the Fallen tranquilized for a greater duration that the missiles were simply incapable of, at least long enough for the Spirit to take a new position, just a couple seconds though that alone is a great ask.

A great ask would require an equally greater voice, and so in the few seconds he has before collision, the Spirit pauses his right finger’s barrage, letting the left continue as his right finger simply concentrates forward, igniting again in a fire but one that doesn’t immediately bolt. All of the crystal plates on his body begins to flare up at once before he then flicks his wrist once, expelling the flame built in that finger forward in a direct fireball that reshapes into the cylindrical rocket like the others of the barrage, however this one is multiple magnitudes larger, the body taller than the mark. Its propulsion is therefore stronger, leaving a thick blue trail behind as it cruises its path along with the rest of the barrage, its body housing a silver casing like the other missiles with a crystal warhead, however this one is far brighter than all the others, exuding its own hum as the crystal gradually flares.

Working through the single barrage, the Fallen summons blinks that segment the missiles, forcing premature explosions too far for the shrapnel to reach. It steadily gains control, extending the distance of safety by projecting its flashes forward, repelling the bombardment that has been holding it back while it strangely isn’t even facing the barrage but instead dazing off as though occupied by other thoughts different from the intense battle.

That brief moment of thought does distract it, as it only then notices the source of light heading its way, at first with a frosty blue hue but the luminosity reaches an intensity that the light simply appears white, nearly blinding as if a sun is approaching.

Instinctively the Fallen summons another blink while facing the light source presumably to slice it when it’s still a distance slightly greater than what’s needed for the missile shrapnel to reach, however before it can be destroyed, it detonates itself in a shriek followed by immediate silence, not in a typical gas explosion but instead an expulsion of this blinding light that consumes the Fallen in a lucent ball.

For just a moment the entire field brightens to white, blinding even the Spirit who now is rapidly dashing away, not only from the pillar falling behind him but also from the projectile he just launched. He spins around and raises both hands which constructs a thick crystal wall just as he and that wall become undetectable in the white light that consumes both.

Slowly that white light dims or rather shrinks down away from the Spirit, as an enormous cloud appears on the ground by where the target was, though the cloud consumes a vast radius over many more pillars. From the center of the huge cloud rises a stem that approaches the remaining ball of light that dims intensity back to better resemble its original frosty hue simultaneous with the shape refining to one akin to a mushroom while above it several massive rings of smoke appear like a halo that has already annihilated the natural clouds in the area, exponentially expanding as the mushroom widens, and it is at that moment that the shockwave hits in a roar unlike any thunderstorm.

All at once, pillars closest to the target vaporize, melting to a point that the rocks aren’t even discernible physically, not simply razed to rubble but utterly annihilated.

About half a mile from the target, pillars crumble not from black flashes but instead immense pressure being pushed from the mushroom, forming massive cracks all over the pillars before they shatter, the rocks blown away into the other pillars that also deteriorate.

Towers like skyscrapers blow away in an instant, rendered to nothing but debris that are flung outward like a second wave, slamming into the further towers that are glistening red from heat, many of them being ripped apart from the wash of rocks, causing them to shatter as well.

Gradually the mushroom turns fully to dark smoke, towering over all the other pillars in the field rendered to beacons of ascending debris as the shockwave reaches the Spirit who crosses his arms over his chest while his crystal wall flares up, rocks flying past him slamming into surrounding pillars and his shield as his cape and hair are picked up by the overwhelming current.

Clenching his teeth against the powerful shockwave, the Spirit shuts his eyes despite them already being covered from his secondary shield, the crystal wall holding itself together well at least since it’s merely holding back the pressure and rocks. After the rocks seem to pass him given an end to the thumping against his shield, the Spirit slowly begins to open his eyes forward, just as that crystal wall shatters to his disbelief, wide eyed in horror before the stone fist nearly makes contact with his cheek, and while he does manage to dash backwards to dodge the physical hit, a rebounding black flash emits off the fist which propels his body in a streak akin to a black lightning bolt zooming backwards among the horizontal hail of debris.

Past miles in a second, that black lightning bolt strikes the huge wall at the border of the field surprisingly thick by more than a city block, easily passing the rocks it was flying with which instead rise off too far from that edge. Upon the lightning bolt’s collision, the entire wall surface cracks with visible black fissures before a segment of the whole border about a mile long bursts, a portion taller than any of the pillars and with far greater density and volume, a show of power significantly greater than what strikes were dealt before as if the nuclear blast had triggered such a violently retaliatory response, making its own explosion as the debris of the wall are flung straight in a decline like aerial gunfire, same as that lightning bolt that penetrates all the way through to the other side of the wall before striking the roof of one of those factory-like structures past the bordering range. The particular structure the bolt struck had multiple boxes stacked together like different stories of a building, with one base box but multiple levels above it though of smaller surface area, one of the topmost being slanted that being the one that was crashed into. This field stretches on for as far as the eye can see from above, like a forest without trees.

Further back in the pillar field the mushroom cloud still looms in the air, substantially taller too, its ring in the air expanding over the storm of rocky debris racing down, some chunks the size of pebbles but others like meteors for that wall wasn’t short either. The debris is flung in more or less a shifted line beside the wall’s path, the target zone including the crater etched into the factory-like structure’s roof far down below, the one where the body in the azure suit lays, though the whole structure is either solid or at least the top is thick as the crater doesn’t break through a hollow opening. Strangely though while the body doesn’t propel itself as evident due to the lack of visible bursts, it does slowly begin to ascend off the crater, rising like the pebbles from the crater.

That body limp, mostly intact at the very least with the limbs attached to the body properly despite the suit bearing heavy scuff marks with some tears on the fabrics, those limbs just laying in the air. While the body still doesn’t move even as shadows are cast over it, the head at least is planted such that the open starry gaze can perceive the hail falling for him, and yet he still doesn’t move. That’s when he notices that his left cheek has been completely blown off, tearing off not only his jaw but part of his neck, as a chunk had been bitten off that as well. Most concerning though was its surface area which managed to shave off part of the human brain visible from outside, eviscerating nearly the entire cerebellum and separating the spinal cord, leaving only remnants of matter that droops down behind the hollow jaw. His first instinct is to scream yet he’s unable to do so, his second instinct is to cover his cheek yet he’s unable to do so, his body paralyzed, nearing shut down due to the loss of vital components.

However, from the aperture leading to the exposed brain there can be seen a white shine seemingly emitting off the brain itself, and his third instinct kicks in: azure flames crawling off of his severed brain to rebuild the cerebellum along with other bits shaved off, fixing the spinal cord as the whole head is regenerated along with the jaw behind the left cheek, then the mouth, all rounding out to the cheek where the strike was dealt to begin with.

In seconds the entire body is healed, allowing the Spirit to mobilize once more in a frantic dash up faster than the natural ascension, dodging the start of the shower as rubble begins striking the ground seconds after his recovery.

In rapid movements combining striding dashes evading rubble along with zips pulling generally further away from the rain, the Spirit weaves through the hail in moves that leaves a residual blue trail like a tracer, perhaps the only indication of his path as his body moves too fast to be easily tracked. He gravitates towards the sky in that he zips towards higher rocks, his dashes also having slight upward angles, letting him climb up the falling wall above the boxes like factories, zipping onto a few larger debris that he can plant both feet onto to kick off of. Tight maneuvering through meticulous actions allows the Spirit to reach heights with progressively fewer rocks until he eventually manages to surpass all of them, safe in the air with his body oriented about flat though that’s when he boosts with the greatest speed up, rocketing for the skies above with nothing to zip onto.

Passing the altitude of the clouds from his own explosion, the Spirit revisits the inquiry through heavy breaths: “Orial, did you get a reading of any life?”

A prompt response is provided: “After thorough testing, I was unable to detect traces of life on this planet, none of our known tests led to any matches nor was abnormal movement detected. May I again ask for the purpose of the assessment,” as the Spirit extends his hands forward, that being towards the surface due to his orientation, which is when he answers, “Of course, sorry I couldn’t earlier.”

While high up in the atmosphere, the Spirit keeps his gaze focused on the crater he crashed into, now finding that by the crater atop the rubble that covered it stands the Fallen as he explains, “I wanted to confirm that regardless of environmental damages, no life would be endangered in collateral.”

The Fallen glances around seemingly in trying to find the man who watches back as the British voice ponders, “If you were concerned about that, a scan of a hundred miles or so would suffice, even then that’s covering a somewhat substantial portion of the planet, but a global scan appears pointlessly extreme wouldn’t you say?”

As the stone beast turns its head around a few times before abruptly raising it to perfectly stare straight at the man through those soulless sockets, the man answers: “That’d be true if I was limiting myself to that radius, but I can’t hold myself back anymore, that has been made clear.”

Staring straight back at the indestructible devil, the Spirit watches through starry eyes that glimmer from their own passive luminescence, his face scruffed up same as his suit, his golden pauldron chipped in various spots and his azure fibers torn in a few spots too. His hair waves behind his head, parted outward and being blown due to the flight, letting it wrap around the back of his head like a cape. His hands raised in front of his chest, both loosely open, palms facing each other; they simultaneously ignited in dancing azure flames that cast a gentle blue glow on his face, the fire most concentrated in front of his palm but wisps slither between his fingers.

His mouth opens to make his bold declaration with a voice without hesitation, pure of determination not in fiery roar but a gentle confidence in his absolute truth: “I’m not holding back.”

From standing on the structure, staring up at the sky, the Fallen reappears in the air just a few feet in front of the Spirit, reaching its arm out, who dashes backwards before streaming flames from his hands that manifest into a barrage of missiles all colliding into the Fallen, knocking it back towards the ground below from the abruptly rapid bombardment.

Before it hits the ground though the stone beast summons its own resistance of flickers that butcher the missiles heading its way, halting the knockback thus allowing it to halt in the air. Larger missiles are fired, from smaller ammunition that could be held with arms into ones that’d tower over people, at least longer than the mark who continues to burn through them, a few knocking it back but it manages pretty well, still high in the air and slowly freeing itself of the barrage’s pressure, this type of attack having been repeated many times over the last quarter of this battle therefore the Fallen has begun to anticipate it.

Noticing this adaptation, the Spirit brings both hands close together, allowing the flames emitting off them to draw towards one another, swirling around in the formation of a larger blazing orb that grows as he shifts his arms to sustain control, letting it expand to the size of a beach ball, visibly unstable as the ball itself shoots flares though there is an attempt at controlling or rather condensing the power.

Once it reaches the desired threshold, the Spirit throws both hands up, tossing the fireball over him which continues to grow with a radius longer than him until it stops about thirty feet above where it constructs into a levitating satellite device given the panels extended off fins, a large box relatively thin where protrudes a barrel about fifteen feet long, composed of distinct rings connected together which rotate automatically as the aperture at the end of the barrel houses a lens that also rotates like an old camera, wider than the stone opponent. Beside the barrel is a luminant panel that projects a direct beam of light past him, down onto the Fallen’s shoulder who raises its attention to it in perplexion, as the beam itself is entirely harmless.

That beam though is none more than a beacon that guides the camera, the lens of which heats up bright blue with a screech before firing a concentrated beam of blue energy down onto the Fallen who raises its arm to focus its blinks, confused about how an energy laser could integrate the Spirit’s crystals, but before it can even reach its body it is instead struck by the barrage of rockets still incoming, launching the Fallen back down into the factory’s rooftop once again just as the beam follows up, striking with such intensity that the ground around the impact flashes blue from the overwhelming light as that very surface sinks, a crater forming in seconds with a radius magnitudes greater than the one the man was buried under which flattens the slant but furthermore collapses multiple of those stories until reaching the base level. Rocks are flung out in all directions from the reactive force of impact, however most of the ones near contact are utterly melted, that impact releasing its own shockwave that flings other rubble away from the site before they levitate.

Laying on the bottom structure while countering the missiles as well as the laser with black flashes, some of which tear holes in the beam though only momentarily as it continues to stream down, the Fallen loses focus on the laser which lets it strike its body, however it strangely doesn’t affect it at all despite the show of power from the man who very clearly understood the requirements to deal damage. That is when the Fallen recognizes that the laser doesn’t have traces of that crystal in any manner nor was it meant to, it wasn’t fired with the intent of committing harm, but rather functioning as a distraction as now there were additional projectiles that weren’t exactly physically harmful but were creating visual noise obscuring the weapons with actual influence.

Knowing this though as the crater gradually deepens from the continuation of the laser, the Fallen no longer focuses on the beam but instead exclusively on the missiles, understanding that was its only necessary focus. Though its attention is pulled again upon hearing a propulsor above, one far louder and deeper, and upon raising its head it observes another missile heading towards it, one substantially larger than the other rockets to an absurd extent as it’s about the size of a Saturn V rocket, soaring right for it with a visibly crystallic head that shines like an alarm.

That rocket makes impact, resulting in an immediate spherical fireball erupting on the ground, a mixture of orange gas and the blue crystal’s reside that rapidly expands in the explosive release, crumbling the entire factory-like structure that the crater was made in, the whole metal composition shattering before collapse, smearing the atmosphere with smoke that is still being penetrated by the laser that sustains the duration of the explosion’s gradual dispersion.

Though from the center of the rising rubble forming a beacon out of the ruined structure appears one quick black gleam, following the immediate tearing of the laser in its entire path all the way up to the camera satellite that the Spirit manifests a battery which projects a scaly energy shield dome to protect himself from the ensuing explosion of said satellite, debris of the creation bouncing off the dome before the orange flames turn blue leading to its erasure.

That one weapon gone, the Spirit snaps both fingers rapidly, each snap launching another flame off him, reaching various distances with a minimum of a quarter mile away, some reaching to about a half, though upon making their planned path the flames construct into various cannons that levitate independently, many unique designs from ones akin to ancient handheld cameras without the rectangular base and others like huge spears in the air with open tips. Seven of these cannons are made within a second before they all flash, firing bombardments of various ammunition some being rockets with their own propulsions and others launching hard crystal bullets as wide as the enemy. Not all the bullets are crystallic though, again using more artillery that isn’t specifically designed to damage but instead wastes the opponent’s attention. They move at different speeds, the fastest oddly being the hard bullets which are fired out of launchers resembling crossbows given that they have two arched bands that visibly wobble after every shot, for those bullets reach the crater’s center just as the smoke clears at least enough for the stone silhouette to be seen.

Before the dust could fully clear after the rocket’s impact, many more albeit smaller bursts occur in rapid succession, further drilling through the ground now that there are no more remnants of the structure but also expanding the crater over to other structures, the pressure alone causing fragmentation of this biome as said structures are shot apart before each develop their own beacons of scraps, bursting stories before even the base is pressed in.

Watching the bombardment from the sky, the Spirit shakes his head and judges to himself, “Not enough,” as his body continues to passively ascend from a gentle upward thrust, continuing to distance himself while his body begins firing flaming rays that arch off him like mortars, reaching a distance of over a mile before manifesting into satellites shaped as an obelisk, with a cylindrical silver body though a pointed bottom like the pencil insignia, each one several stories tall. More than twenty are made, all of their tips simultaneously flashing before shooting down a concentrated energy laser beam, which does carry the same azure glow as most of the energy weaponry, however there is a frosty glint to that shade.

At the origin of the bombing stands the Fallen, its head up in a passive stance as its entire body is constantly being surrounded by black sparkles that tear apart the ammunition hurdled towards it, gradually gaining control against the oppressive fire once more. It glances off to the side contemplatively as though focusing on a sight other than the one directly surrounding it before its head turns again in notice of the first incoming laser, choosing not to focus on it as energy-based attacks wouldn’t make any deep contact, though on collision its body oddly staggers, forcing the Fallen to step backwards and begin directing its destructive glitters not only that one laser but the many others following. While the laser being ripped apart by said glitters are technically concentrated energy beacons, they are not precisely exclusively composed of gas and plasma but those beacons carry with them a flood of tiny crystal shards like broken glass, for the laser in fact functions more of a propulsor for the hidden projectiles that shred the rocks around it, every grain miniscule but the sheer quantity eats anything it grazes.

The Fallen peers through the chaos over its head, gazing up at the Spirit hovering in the air, surrounded by the cannons firing volley after volley. Some of the flashes rip up the trajectory paths of both the lasers and the missile barrages, most focused defensively but some targeting farther out.

First observing his opponent, the Spirit’s focus is splintered upon noticing the splintering of his lasers and other cannons, those weapons bursting in explosions before slowly rising away from the surface, no longer in commission. About half of his cannons were caught in this quick retaliation, leaving an anxious face on the man who then grits his teeth before his entire body is set ablaze, streaks of flames firing off him at a far greater rate sporadically all around him, some reaching for about a mile and others surpassing two, countless flames that each find their own position before constructing into various artillery stations: huge satellite poles in the sky that begin raining down missiles fired off the bottom but other stranger shapes like a giant silver orb the size of a town which fires a single great blue laser down surrounded by a field of colossal mortars launching their own propulsive orbs the size of houses all of which is passed by a vast ring of fire that expands to a radius of over two miles before materializing into a hovering metal ring, the entire bottom face being a vent that begins firing an endless barrage of countless bullets at high speeds, a magnitude of intensity accelerated after finding the prior focused creations being ineffective.

This grand hail has one direction: down, towards the Fallen who just keeps its head up to watch that storm coming, watching as it makes impact not only on that crater but a whole chunk of neighboring factories stretching over miles as though the sheer quantity of artillery couldn’t simply focus on a precise target. The whole region below was made the target, all those blocks gradually depressing from the bombings, pressured against the upward force of gravity that results in greater mass repelling rather than attracting. In fact the bordering wall has become involved, the gap widening as more of the structure crumbles, nearing the pillars on the other side, every destroyed structure leaving behind its own beacon like a pharos providing a warning of the environmental destruction.

Standing at the center of the bombardment wide enough to obliterate towns, the Fallen remains in the crater though no longer at the lowest point, for the surface around it has depressed further down now past the ground; the majority of the black flickers appear closer together above the summoner watching all the projectiles razed before it could reach its armor. It just stares at the sky, shadows cast all over the battlefield from the looming stations, though its focus wasn’t on any of the huge weapons, but rather a spec amongst them.

That focus specifically is on the Spirit, whose eyes widen upon perceiving distant black sparkles over his artillery before many of them are ripped apart and combust in all directions, but his focus is forced forward with widening eyes as two of those sparkles occur right in front of him before both of his arms are torn cleanly off, perplexing him for a moment of just how the enemy still managed to land hits while being bombarded to this extreme, the only answer being that the bombardment simply wasn’t enough.

Gritting his teeth from what felt again like mockery despite putting in his full effort, the Spirit regenerates both arms before extending it forward, roaring as he now projects flames not around him for reinforcement guns but instead straight for the enemy itself, releasing two streams that consistently generate hails of rockets far larger than him with glaring crystal heads. Upon collision with the surface, these rockets detonate great explosions with their own frosty mushrooms, not to the extent of the nuke but with the number being fired at once, the incremental damage within a second already surpasses that former attack, resulting in damage so great the Spirit isn’t even able to observe the target due to the constant explosions drilling through the planet. More of the field is wiped out, entire factory-like structures crumbling at once for miles, hollowing out a portion of the planet’s surface that would’ve been capable of housing cities. The only standing structures were those seen further on by the horizon, but beneath the Spirit there only laid a huge crater like the eye of a great storm. Those pillars on the other side of the wall are no exception, for the ones by the border are blown away, and as the radius of the attack continues widening, the spread of affected structures does too, those pillars initially seeming so tall and solid now falling apart so simply at such great speeds and numbers.

Despite that bombing he felt some confidence in given his expression shifting back to one of determination, he is then met with many more black flickers that eat through his artillery at greater speeds, fragmenting his globe laser before it explodes which releases debris all over the field of smaller mortars before said detritus could be erased, causing greater damage quickly burning away his arsenal.

That confidence falls to uncertainty as his head turns on a swivel, but he clenches his teeth, replacing the destroyed weaponry as his body releases more flaming streaks. These ones however do not construct new artillery stations like satellites and mortars, but instead only stretch to a certain distance such that they can begin producing their own barrages of missiles and bullets, ditching the middle step of having a machine operate the cannonfire as the Spirit becomes the artillery, fire branching off him rapidly to replace his destroyed guns until there’s hardly any machines left around him, for even the titanic ring suddenly cuts up into many smaller bits that all begin to ascend. However some of these flames emerging from his body expand to be just as if not larger than the barrels of his cannons, continuing to fire rockets, bullets, lasers carrying crystal shards, all at speeds in fact faster than his artillery given a lack of mechanical limitations and technically infinite supply. The emergent blazes forming these projectiles are not flung once off his body either but are sustained in a fiery stream, arching off him in all directions. He returns his glare forward once again, his hair blowing backwards like his cape from the winds of his missiles blasting air against him.

While the cannonade’s intensity is not to be undermined as it is one that would likely be able to rival whole militaries alone, in truth the distance it reaches is being quickly subtracted as at the other end of the colorful blue trails and beams there is an approaching wall of dark cruscates tearing apart that endless salvo, and behind that wall walks the Fallen, stepping forward on the air, oriented orthogonal to the surface as it’s actually walking up the sky in the same direction as the wreckages. Even with all the blinding explosions mixed with raining bullets of all sizes everywhere all at once, that stone beast simply strolls through the attacks.

At first dread swamps the Spirit’s face as a sense of defeat hits him, the realization that even at his greatest extent his output isn’t enough, ceasing to hold back wasn’t enough. Everything he was pouring in was his best but still his enemy simply walked through it with visibly little struggle, trivializing all the efforts he was putting in.

That sense of futility both due to the enemy’s overwhelming strength and his apparent insufficiency enrages the man whose eyes sharpen to a glare, his teeth gritting in contemplation, debating against himself, unsure how to overpower this enemy if such a feat is even possible, but he couldn’t bear accept that it isn’t, that idea was one he found with putrid discontent. This wasn’t just about him, it wasn’t merely a problem of him being apparently weak comparatively that was upsetting, rather this weakness was jeopardizing the lives of his team, the ones in struggle against a threat he had left them to deal with alone, losing himself in this environment he still didn’t understand. Every second spent in this battle was another his team was toiling through theirs, a fact that had stayed at the forefront of his thoughts yet he couldn’t find a solution to remedy it.

No, he needed to find a solution. He couldn’t accept defeat, he couldn’t accept being insufficient, he couldn’t accept letting his team struggle alone because he simply couldn’t get back to them. If his best wasn’t enough, then he’d have to push beyond that until it was. This sense of obligation reignites determination in his starry eyes that brighten more with a faint white flicker, and he bellows as he thrusts his arms forward again, those flames but also all the others pouring off his body thickening as more continue to do so.

More, more those blazing streams expand from the gleaming center, like a sustained blue firework in the sky expanding slowly, from where many more fireworks rain down on the marching stone enemy. From the center are two streams that fire straight at that target, which drop dramatically larger rockets some of them sliced by the Fallen though it stops its march upon discerning the intensity rise, remaining cautious as those rockets that soar past it instead hit the ground before flashing a blinding light casting harsh shadows over the stone body, only to dim to reveal mushrooms of additional nukes of power greater than the first, many more fired in succession each of them blasting away those structures at the horizon but also digging the preexisting craters deeper into the surface –even knocking the climbing rocks back towards the ground–, the entire crater deepening like a quarry, the surface past the crater visibly cracking too before crumbling to quickly widen the hole, uprooting any of the remaining natural landscape below. That first nuke’s effect is practically nullified as the crater sinks the ground that the destroyed pillars had stood on same as with the shattering pillars all around, the stone city fallen into a pit which leaves its remains to seek the heavens, the quantity still grounded visible from above being scarce as they can only be seen at the very edge of the horizon.

Observing the enemy’s resistances against the bombardment even now, the Spirit roars louder as he continues to push, the blue streaks in his eyes brightening further as they start to lose their hue, and oddly enough the flames emitting off his arms and body begin to refine in shape, slimming the chaotically dancing flares though the actual rays start to wobble slightly like lightning arcs of still the same color. A gentle white light emits behind the man’s body which shapes itself into a ring, like a halo which the rays bursting off his body pass through. The natural rumbles and roars of the flames is also steadily undermined by a higher pitched cackling like lightning, the ends of which still continue to manifest cannonfire though instead of botches of flames refining shape like an ice sculpture these arcs instead expand out smaller arcs that dance and weave together to shape the weapons, a more precise procedure though it’s no slower. If anything the rate of attacks speeds up as the nuclear rockets being fired from the Spirit’s hands are fired at speeds of a machine gun, furthermore strangely enough the frosty crystals themselves emit sparks of their own with a uniquely altered hum more akin to echoing winds in that they chaotically shift frequencies. Many are caught in the flickering wall though they inch deeper than before, more drawing closer to the Fallen who nearly stumbles a step back from the sudden switch in penetrative power, for those that don’t meet the wall instead continue into the ground where their explosions have somehow greatened in scale, digging through the planet enough that the crater has now reached where the ocean floor would’ve been, widening the flattened area as frosty arcs are discharged over the field between contacts. If anything it is now clear why the man had to be certain that no life roamed this planet as any that might’ve surely would struggle to continue doing so as this planet’s habitability drops with every second. In fact there are no more visibly standing factories even to the horizon, as the crater has now reached that stretch, as while indeed the environmental debris has continued to ascend, the horizon itself has descended. Had this been a metropolis, potential millions of casualties would’ve already occurred, this extreme use of strength used only to combat a single enemy.

Even then the Spirit doesn’t slow down but keeps expanding, growing more azure arcs off his body which expand quicker than the earlier streams, each one generating cannonfire at greater speeds, all being summoned from that one man whose starry eyes reach a luminosity that they no longer can be perceived as blue but are instead purely white, like the halo behind him which begins to hum like an oddly echoing wind just barely audible over the roaring rockets as the light bleeds over the hollow face, gradually filling it in, causing the arcs emerging off the man to divert direction beside him, bending like the branches of a tree.

Hovering in front of the growing white circle just present in the air, casting him in a menacing shadow, the azure arcs spread out to his sides, sustaining their fire but the shape of the firework bends into what almost resembles colossal wings in that the arcs split off for separation, spreading over the sky like an angel as it rains hell down over the planet shrinking in width purely from the flattening as every nuke drops the ground deeper and deeper. Whereas the angel’s hellfire plummets to the ground, the ruins rise to the dramatic red skies, innumerable moving pillars of shattered rocks emerging from all over the excavation, not showing any sign of stopping as they instead appear to just continue beyond the atmosphere.

At the center of this hellfire stands the Fallen, its black flickers managing to withstand the Angel’s fire, though it watches with curiosity, its focus specifically on the white halo. Blinks fracture missiles into smaller fragments that are then sanded to dust as there are layers to these sparkles, deconstructing the weapons which leaves the stone armor untouched by a single piece of shrapnel.

In silence with a still body, the Fallen just gazes up, as if waiting patiently, watching through those black sockets.

Unleashing his full potential being incremented every moment, the Spirit continues to roar over the cackles, rocket thrusters, launching bullets, laser shrieks, and the hum of the ring behind him until it abruptly raises in volume to the extent of overpowering the cackles and rockets at the very moment that the white light suddenly brightens to its threshold that the light itself collapses inwards, bending into rays that race down as the walls of the reopened gate.

At that very instant, the Fallen’s soulless eyes irradiate as caustics rapidly rush behind it, in an instant causing it to flare as bright as the sun, blindingly so.

In the very next instant a single black flicker occurs, though not in a small flash like a grenade, but instead a spark that consumes the entire aerial battlefield.

In the following instant that the flicker dissipates, what’s revealed is that every single missile, rocket, bullet, laser, or other weapon fired from the Spirit has been utterly vaporized including the mushroom clouds and shockwaves below, resetting the whole environment now absent of those rubble beacons for just a moment, a moment of peace. In fact the lightning wings have entirely ceased, leaving just the man hovering in the air, just the two of them and the empty space in between, rendering the battlefield utterly silent but for the intense hum of the gate. And in that instant, the Fallen vanishes from its position at the end of the bombardment, and it reappears right at the front.

Only a reaction with the face can be accomplished from the Spirit whose eyes widen and his mouth drops in horror before that face is covered by the stone hand grabbing it, that hand of the stone monster who carries him through the gate, departing the battlefield.

Instinctively the Spirit tries to detach from the grip, grabbing the monster’s hand with both of his, desperately trying to peel the hold off him but to no avail. He growls frantically, trying to kick the stone chest while pulling at the stone hand, unsuccessful as the beast maintains an iron grip of the man whose hand sparks blue before grabbing one more time, suddenly shocking the beast which causes the grip to loosen, an astonishing act as the Fallen instinctively waves its hand as though it just touched something hot, stunned for just long enough for the Spirit to kick off the chest to propel himself away.

Facing forward, the Spirit desperately holds his hands forward and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus in the same trance he was in before, and once again a rise of scattered sounds begin to echo from all directions, roars of flames, beeping sounds from presumably a machine, lightning crackle, all of it at once layered over each other. He squeezes his eyes harder to try focusing more, seeking those signature voices though it’s like attempting to find a specific fish in the whole ocean, for while he does hear many voices none of them are recognizable. Placing his hands on his temple, he pushes more concentration, meditating on thoughts of his allies, the mountaintop they were stranded on, the golden train crashed beside it, anything to query for his destination.

Yet in the time it takes for him to scour, the Fallen faces forward and dashes towards him, grabbing Meditat by the arm and yanking him back to which he bellows frantically, again trying to push the monster off him though oddly enough he struggles to reignite that spark. After one glance at the struggle, the Fallen turns its attention to panoramically survey the tunnel as the black mist beneath the stone armor glints a shade of green, and suddenly the sounds heard trim down to purely being voices, still unfamiliar voices but oddly there are no other sources of those echoes. Just then in front of its eyes the tunnel splinters, rays bending in the opening of another passage which both of them glide to, to which Meditat again attempts to push back against the hold by grabbing on the wrist and kicking the body but again without success. He fights back as the rays seem to speed up, as though they are accelerating along the passage, him still failing to repel the grip on the monster, focused purely on trying to escape.

Suddenly though among the sea of voices there is a familiar man’s voice anxiously mentioning, “I’m not getting any responses from her, I hope Dana was freed by now-,” with that voice then being recognized as Thompson’s, one of the men part of the expedition that Dana partook in, the team whose capture had ignited this mission. Immediately Meditat glances around with his head raised, his focus shifted though he no longer hears that voice, none of the others being recognized although he begins to focus on the words, hearing phrases from men: “Did you hear about the trial with Gray? The President being charged for selling drugs??” along with “You tryin to get yourself killed? Just for a hit?“ There are other voices of women as well, though two he locks onto are: “You worry so much Dexter you’re going to bald early like that,” and “Don’t worry, I’m sure Kokei will come in last minute with everything done, hopefully,” which while are voices he’s unfamiliar with, the names referred to bring him focus. He glances around frantically, facing forward where to his surprise he finds that far ahead in the path they’re moving along there appears to be many other tunnels branching off in all directions, branches that then branch off again, a network of these branches in the void beyond the rays that resembles a tree. The first branch approaches quickly, but as Meditat is observing it in utter bewilderment, he’s thrown forward by the Fallen, a move that oddly frees him to which he immediately tries to aim his hands forward in retaliation though before he can he’s grabbed again but this time in the face once more, to which he instinctively tries to pull the hand off, but that’s when this time it’s the stone hand that sparks black, and immediately Meditat shrieks in pain as all the sudden among the white rays soaring past them is a flood of black ones, only a few that pass until the stone hand begins sparking again but consistently this time, resulting in a greater agonized cry from the man as more black rays soar past them just as they pass the first splinter, those black rays diverging into that branch. All the sudden while Meditat continues to experience agony, his face abruptly shifts to an expression of morbid horror, his eyes widening in terror as his movements become suddenly erratic to a far greater extent, kicking and thrashing his body wildly as his agonized shouts become terrified screams upon witnessing the dGhlIGdyZWF0IG1hc3NhY3JlIA==

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