There was a serene disappointment in the white tiger’s eyes. He gazed at me, then at the dying landscape around us, as though this is what I wanted.

You’re really asking me?

I never wanted to do any of this, but I had to live by the rules of this forsaken world. Being strong was not enough; you had to survive onslaught after onslaught, demeaning yourself to claim any path to survival. I don’t even want to imagine what it would be like if I was born as an animal; it would’ve been so much worse.

But some animals did survive.

By the scars in the tiger’s striped coat, I could tell that he grew the same way.

Any animal that survived their section of the jungle would eventually make their way to the heart. There, something would let them grow beyond what they were — inadvertently, they would grow a mind and surpass their prior existence.

Since I couldn’t answer whatever questions his eyes were asking, I could only watch the emotions flicker through the red Ether rain.

Questioning. A brief flash of anger. Patience. Then, eventually, acceptance.

Without language or culture to bridge the eternity between us, we could only show each other the end of our respective paths.

Ether pulsed within the white tiger’s body. In his core was a white ball that burned just as mine; he had a complete inner core all this time.

He wasn’t trying to hide himself anymore, and out of respect, neither did I.

Backed by a melody of whistling winds, we took each other’s hands and began our first and last dance.

I set the initial pace, testing how fast he could step with me. He kept up with me, easily dodging my slashing strikes from Tintin. But he wasn’t satisfied with my amateurish dance. Closing the distance, he pulled me in and forced me to adapt to his tune.

A swipe here, a step there, a twist for variety, and a backstep to block my projectiles. He was everything I imagined and so much more — I had to strain myself to pull my toes out of the way of his furious feet.

Truth be told, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, the one and only white tiger. I saw you in my dreams and in my nightmares, a beast whose claws left a permanent tear in my psyche.

So now, as we danced to the death, I could finally ask you how you got here, White Tiger.

I can see your preferred method of attack. You only needed a single strike to kill, but what taught you that?

You didn’t have a prideful way of fighting — you did everything in your power to avoid getting hit and kept your augmented claws reserved for potential strikes, or to forcibly smack away anything that came towards you. Yet you carried yourself with such confidence when we met before. Where did that dichotomy come from?

This cursed jungle does not forgive any mistakes. Did you have a friend you could learn from? Did you have a mentor teach you where the law of the jungle and the golden rules meet, a creature from beyond this isolated world?

Despite my best efforts, you swiped me and made me bleed, but I had so much blood stored up for you. I could bleed as much as you want.

You couldn’t limit how much time we spent together.

Hey, White Tiger, tell me. Tell me how you got here. Tell me how you survived this long. Tell me how lonely you were. Tell me your reason for being. Tell me about your happiness, your sorrow, your impetus of being. Talk to me until our throats bleed and our souls flee for a better world than this one.

This was my first real fight, a battle where all participants had their lives on the line. Are you proud of me? Am I exceeding your expectations? Hey, tell me what you think.

Ah, I get it now. You were defending life as you knew it, protecting the heart — or in other words, the reactor of this unknown facility.

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Tell me, who appointed you as protector? Did you take the duty upon yourself? Are there others like you down here, defending this animal kingdom?

Hey, if you told me, I could’ve joined you. I would’ve joined you.

This was an experiment. Somebody put us down here, set all this up. If your goal was to get revenge on the humans that set up this death game scenario, then I would’ve been happy to help.

The White Tiger broke through Galahad with a leaping, double-clawed strike. He followed up with another pouncing swipe and hit me hard enough to crack my body and open up another gash.

Ah, this was bad. Maybe he could limit the end of this duet — he was getting reckless, burning vast quantities of Ether to accelerate himself faster than I could react to. As strong as my wind was, I couldn’t keep this up forever; he destroyed all my tortoise stones and was starting to outmaneuver my strategy of ducking and weaving.

Tell me White Tiger, did you ever live? Have you ever spent a tender moment with a mate or bonded with a pack? Did you get to pass on your genes like all living creatures desire, or did you overcome all those desires to fulfill the role of something greater?

What were the words you wanted to hear? Did you have words you wanted to hear? What kept you moving forward all this time?

Hey, tell me. Were you like me? Did you dream of the world outside this place, or did your heart and mind belong to the jungle?

Did you know there’s a beautiful world up there? A world of blue skies, green fields, golden sunrises and sunsets; a place where anybody could find their happiness?

Even if my song is ugly now, I know it still exists. Even if I’m broken and battered, I know there’s a sky for all of us.

Hey, talk to me.

Could you hear me?

If you could hear my voice, would you listen to me?

If we could talk like normal people, could we have settled this in a different way?

What a terrible fate this was.

No matter how many questions I asked, they would never reach you. No matter how many questions you asked, I could never hear them.

That’s the way this world is, isn’t it? Circumstance is the birth of all tragedy.

You had your story, and I had mine. We both had reasons to go on, but without communication, there was no amicable solution.

I led him into my one and only prepared trap — I set up the gates at an angle that would execute a proper plasma shot. He saw it coming and sidestepped just in time, reducing a fatal shot to a burn scar on his right leg.

Did you hate me? You hurt me so much, but I couldn’t bring myself to hate you. Even now, I don’t think I can hate you.

Come on, then. Show me what you’ve got.

The White Tiger retreated, leaping up several ledges. He caught his breath on a looming cliff.

Our eyes met, but there was no emotion left for either of us. We had reached the end of our wordless conversation.

In the falling red rain of a dying waste, his Soul began to burn blue.

He recognized me as a proper threat and realized I had to be defeated at any cost, even if it would cost him part of himself. Crouching down, he lept towards me — and disappeared.

I backed away, only to get caught in his next strike.

He tore a spatial rift between spaces with his claws, opening the resulting hole right beside me.

He got me. Smashed my core clean in two. His claws passed through me without resistance, erasing everything he touched.

My consciousness began to flicker. The tiger soared above me as I bounced off the ground, a majestic guardian whose level I could never reach.

Tell me White Tiger, was this strength of your resolve? The willingness to sacrifice a part of yourself to achieve victory?

I could never win against you in a fair fight, White Tiger, though I did put up a good show. And for that, you have my eternal respect.

I hope I entertained you well.

But if that was the case, then it was only fair that I show you the end of my resolve in turn.

As long as some part of myself remained, then I would persist. Even if my sanity waned during my aimless existence, I learned how to take advantage of any situation that came my way.

I knew the thorny path I had to walk.

A gunshot is a controlled explosion, redirected force that turns a small piece of lead into a deadly force.

A sword is a wedge that opens up a fracture in material using shear and friction, splitting them apart.

A spear condenses all the energy of a person’s strike into a single point.

The non-functioning plasma-esque pistol I acquired used a three-stage charge up to propel hot gas at high speeds, creating an electron-based projectile that could melt stone and kill on contact.

Using a swift burst of wind, I sacrificed my broken half and pressed it right against the White Tiger’s stomach. Calling upon my perfect memory, I thrust forth a small lance of Ether and recited my last incantation.

Call it a bit of improvisation. That’s what I’m best at.

Third Gate, Flare Shot.

We landed.

The White Tiger took three steps forward, convulsed, then fell on his side. I hit the wall, still bleeding out from his rift strike.

Nothing like a mutual kill to really get the blood going — though I blasted out his heart, so I guess it really wasn’t going anymore.

There were no winners here. Two stories met their ends at the hands of unknown rivals.

Despite this, I was happy.

I enjoyed this match. For the first time since I woke up, I felt alive.

Our souls were fading. I could feel some lingering anger in my direction, but I was a selfish prick. Three hundred years alone had given me a bad personality, but could you really blame me? This ending was fine by me.

See you later, White Tiger.

It was fun.