Aetheral Space

“You fool,” Muzazi murmured, smiling softly. “You went through all of that for me?”

The hospital room was dark, curtains drawn, light provided only by the dim glow of automatic eyes. It had only been a short walk here from Muzazi’s own room. That was unfortunate: he’d have preferred a trek. The pain of it would have pulled him fully into consciousness.

Still… this sight would suffice all the same.

Morgan was now lying in a bed much like the one that Muzazi had woken up from. A brace held his jaw together, and the drugs crawling through his drip kept his pain under control. He grinned weakly with as much effort as he could muster.

“That’s… my job…” he wheezed. “Anyone else would have done the same…”

Muzazi smirked. Liar. Only Morgan Nacht would have done such a foolhardy thing. That was what made him incredible. As gently as he could, Muzazi put a hand down on the young man’s shoulder.

“Of course,” he said. “Rest free. I’ll take it from here.”

“This…” growled the Fourth Branch of the Tree of Might, Fino Onio, as he looked down at the corpse of his superior. “...is unforgivable.”

Violence’s body had been recovered from a security station’s morgue earlier that morning, her location identified by one of the capital’s many info-brokers. Now she rested atop a pedestal in the Tree of Might’s Chamber of Remembrance, artificial rain drizzling atop her corpse from above. A puddle was already spreading out from the pedestal into a lower portion of the floor. When that portion was filled, the time for cremation would have come.

That alone would not be cause for the gnashing of teeth, but the Second Branch was in a truly lamentable state. Her head had been demolished, a massive hole opened up in the front of her skull, brain obliterated by the attack. That was her only wound.

Fino clenched his fists. A warrior’s death should not look like this. A warrior should die covered in scars, with their enemy’s blood on their lips. The only acceptable defeat was one that took your enemy with you. Strength through victory, and victory even in defeat.

But could this even be called defeat, or was it…?

“Gutten min,” said Tyr Masterman, the Third Branch, his tri-moustaches quivering as he leaned against the wall. “You must not lose yourself in fury. Violence called a duel, and Violence lost. It is something that happens. Sad, but not cause to lose oneself. Berolige, yes?”

Fino cast a scarlet glare upon his superior. It was no surprise that the old man was keen to treat this matter leniently. With Violence dead, Masterman would soon reclaim his old position as Second Branch of the Tree of Might.

He clenched his fists tighter, enough to draw blood.

Fino Onio was a young man, brought into the Tree by Violence only five years prior, but he had advanced quickly -- and his body bore the scars to prove his effort. His face was wrapped in bandages, with only a strip of brown skin and his red eyes exposed to the world. Long grey hair cascaded down his back, reaching nearly as low as the tails of his red leather coat. His Aether Armament, Ill Humour, was sheathed at his side. A chainsaw wasn’t the most traditional of weapons…

…but, with Fino’s ability, it got the job done.

“If it were an honorable duel,” Fino snarled. “Then I’d accept that readily. But this blow, this attack, this wound. Does it look honorable to you? To me, it looks like --”

“Gutten min --”

“To me,” Fino pushed forward. “It looks like an execution! It looks like Ruth Blaine put a gun to the back of my master’s head and pulled the trigger! It looks like our response should be obvious!”

Silence lingered over the room, save for the gentle sound of rain. Slowly, Masterman clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes were dull and serious.

“You refer to a vengeance pact?” he asked.

Fino nodded. “She can’t get away with this. Ruth Blaine must be declared a hated enemy of the Tree of Might, from now until the day she dies. But don’t concern yourself with wasted resources, old man…” In a single movement, he whipped out Ill Humour and revved up the chainsaw, crimson blood pouring from the vent on its side. “...I’ll carve her up before long.”

Tyr sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers as he closed his eyes.

“If that’s what you wish, then you must bring it up with the Zero Branch,” he finally said. “But for the time being… nothing can begin until the end of this next match.”

He turned his head to look at the massive monitor towering over the chamber. There, the Arena of the Absolute waited. There, Mereloco waited -- for an opponent that might not even arrive.

“That,” Tyr muttered. “...is the decision of our leader.”

Atoy Muzazi marched through the tunnel.

He was ready for battle, and not much else. The cocktail of stimulants and enhancers the doctors had provided him with -- at no small cost -- was sufficient to keep him in fighting condition for an hour, maybe slightly over that if he was lucky. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have gone for such an unreliable method of recovery -- but with so little time remaining until the match, he had little choice.

His muscles twisted with something that wasn't pain exactly, but was surely a neighbour to it. As well as the stimulants, he'd also undergone minor carving surgery -- a practice in which damaged muscles and innards were sliced away, then immediately replaced with Panacea. It was yet another dangerous and painful way of increasing his recovery speed… but with it, he could move and fight as he needed to.

In short, though? He was on borrowed time. Before long, he'd collapse again and need to return to the hospital bed. He needed to end this fight before then.

He reached the mouth of the tunnel, artificial light flooding over him as he stepped into the Arena of the Absolute.

The cheering of the crowds was nearly as overpowering as the light. His fight against Nael Manron had been by far the most extravagant battle of the Dawn Contest so far, and that fact had earned him a great deal of goodwill from the public. For the time being, he was a hero.

But the man across from him had surely killed many heroes.

Mereloco had clearly arrived before him, sitting himself down on the opposite side of the arena, arm resting atop one raised knee. He regarded Muzazi with dark, empty eyes. The eyes of a shark. It was somewhat fitting.

For this match, the arena had been modified to resemble a beach of some kind -- one half occupied by an artificial tide, the other by near-white sand. Palm trees formed a vague border to complete the facade.

The tide washed over Muzazi's feet as he stopped opposite Mereloco, remaining standing. From what Morgan had related to him, this wasn't a person he should take lightly. The battle against Tealin Jade had already told him that, of course, but he wouldn't be surprised if Mereloco tried some sort of surprise attack.

In that regard, he was of the same breed as Dragan Hadrien.

“In this cornerrr,” the announcer declared excitedly, boosted voice overpowering the crowd. “The man from the past, the tourist with a penchant for brutality… Merelooocooo!”

Some muted cheering waved through the crowd. It only made sense that Mereloco had supporters too. To some, the brutality he displayed made him a hero all by itself.

Mereloco didn't react to the cheering. He just continued to stare at Muzazi, his eye contact unbreakable.

The announcer continued: “And accrrross, we have the Full Moon, the man with a sword as bright as the sun -- Atoooy Muzaziii!”

Muzazi frowned. His sword certainly wasn't as bright as the sun. That would be ridiculous.

“Three…”

No matter. He'd just have to correct the mistake later.

“Two…”

He lowered his body, ignited Radiants from his palms, and prepared himself.

“One…”

Mereloco picked himself up off the ground almost lazily, brushing sand from his pants. Still, he stared. Still, he waited.

“Begin!”

Untoward.

Before Muzazi could blast off and attack, the ground beneath him rumbled -- and, as if, grasped by an invisible hand, the arena tore itself free from the stadium.

For a moment, he could hear the shocked screams of the crowd -- but only for a moment. They quickly faded away, left behind far down below, as the extracted beach ascended higher and higher into the sky. Buildings whipped past as they rose, until finally only the black sky curled around them. Stars twinkled like tiny little eyes.

In the midst of it all, Mereloco just stood, arms extended to either side. As the arena finally stopped, settling in the lower atmosphere of Azum-Ha, he slowly lowered them.

“There,” he grunted, cold breath pouring from his mouth like fog. “It's not as noisy.”

Was that Unchained? Muzazi wondered. I doubt it. According to Morgan, he can't use Unchained and Unworthy at the same time. I don't see a man like this cutting off his ranged attacks just to avoid the crowds.

Yes… Muzazi's eyes narrowed. That was just another reason he couldn't lose. Morgan had given all he could to bring him here.

That sort of faith he couldn't betray.

Wrapped up in a hospital bed just as Muzazi had been, Morgan spoke through gasps of breath. It took a long time to get a full sentence out, but Muzazi waited and listened all the same. He hung on every word.

“Mereloco…” Morgan explained. “He's got three… a-abilities I was able to confirm… you know Unchained…”

Mereloco raised a finger in Muzazi's direction -- and immediately, Muzazi jumped back, avoiding the invisible projectile and falling off the floating beach in the process.

“Unworthy… he focuses a gravity field and fires it out like a tiny bullet. Don't let it hit you… even if your body can withstand one, he shoots them r-rapid-fire… so you'll be finished…”

Muzazi was lucky that Mereloco had chosen to elevate the arena. That meant he could use his thrusters to fly underneath it, looping around from below and avoiding Mereloco's line of fire. He swooped through the air, bursts of white blazing out from his shoulders and feet.

Clearly, catastrophic damage had been done to the arena by tearing it free. Sand and water poured down from the edges of the circular space down to the ground below, and a massive metallic wire -- like a torn umbilical cord -- rained sparks down with them. Muzazi weaved around it as he prepared his attack.

He was no fool, and he knew Mereloco wasn't either. The man was hardly going to just stand there and let Muzazi set this up. He'd be preparing his own attack as well.

Muzazi could only hope he'd be able to counteract it.

Mereloco cracked his neck. It was obvious that Morgan Nacht had warned this swordsman about his abilities. Well, that was fine. He'd expected that.

It didn't matter if someone knew he had a gun when the bullet was already in their brain.

He stepped over to the sandy side of the arena, reaching out a purple-sparking hand. He wasn't fond of technical attacks like this, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of them when he needed to. Anyone who got this far with Aether knew what they were doing with it.

Uncrowned.

Uncrowned was an ability that plucked small objects from Mereloco's immediate surroundings and forced them to orbit his body. He could control the speed and strength with which the objects orbited, making them effective as both shields and weapons. Projectile attacks were basically useless against him as a result -- Mereloco could use Uncrowned alongside his other abilities -- excluding Unworthy -- without concern.

He had no doubt that the swordsman already knew that, though. Morgan Nacht wouldn't have failed to explain the move that had laid him out. The bastard would be ready for it.

So he'd do something he wouldn't be ready for. He'd reach into his ability… grasp the targeting parameters he'd set… and adjust them. Purple Aether crackled throughout his body --

-- and slowly, the sand began to shift.

Muzazi emerged on the opposite side of the arena -- and immediately regretted it.

It wasn’t that he’d made a bad decision, per se. In a fight against Mereloco, the best strategy was to get in close, so that he couldn’t use Unchained without hitting himself with his own attacks. Mereloco’s grappling skills made that treacherous as well, of course, but his hands at least were something that could be fought against. Since he had a ranged attack, too, moving in a way that kept Muzazi covered hadn’t been a bad decision either.

Ordinarily, Muzazi would have taken the opportunity to set up Radiant Almighty on the underside of the arena too -- but that wasn’t an option. When he’d lifted the arena up into the sky, Mereloco had infused it completely with his own Aether, and that infusion was still active. Right now, Muzazi could only create thrusters on his own body. So sticking to normal Radiants hadn’t been a bad decision, either.

Up to this point, he hadn’t made a bad decision.

But there were better decisions he could have made.

The attack slammed into Muzazi, instantly tearing his jacket and shirt apart, and nearly doing the same to his chest. It was only his last-second retreat that stopped his organs from being exposed to the open air -- and even so, rows of thin red lines covered his skin. Stabilising himself in the air with thrusters, he stared in horror at the thing that had struck him.

A sphere of solid sand, its entire surface rippling as it approached.

No: Muzazi recognised his mistake immediately. In the midst of that sphere, he could see the vaguest human silhouette. Mereloco. This was Uncrowned -- the ability that Morgan had warned him about, the one that had lost him the fight, but this was far beyond what Morgan had described.

Mereloco had seized hold of individual grains of sand, set them to orbit him, and then increased the speed of that orbit to its maximum. Essentially… he’d created a giant shredder around himself. And that shredder was still advancing towards him.

Muzazi’s mind raced. How did he get around this? Just the briefest contact with the shredder-shield had caused significant damage. There was no telling if his Radiants would be able to pass through the shield intact -- and even if they could, the slightest movement on Mereloco’s part would be enough to obliterate the limb Muzazi was wielding it with.

He couldn’t use Ablaze or Almighty because of the infusion. If he tried to throw Lustrous, the generation time would give Mereloco a chance to close the distance. He was running out of options -- he was running out of decisions, good or bad. Muzazi’s heart began to hammer in his chest… and then, almost immediately, began to calm down.

He’d seen them, after all.

Countless green dots below the arena, quickly growing larger as they approached. They must have been dispatched from the stadium once it became clear that Muzazi and Mereloco wouldn’t be returning. Unlike the battle against Nael Manron, the organisers had assumed the fight would be taking place in the Arena of the Absolute proper, so it had taken a bit longer to deploy them.

The Emerald Eyes, spherical camera automatics designed to observe fights that happened out of the public view. Because of Mereloco’s infusion, Muzazi couldn’t create thrusters on any part of this floating arena.

But these new arrivals? He could do as he liked with them.

White Aether sparked.