#abanante

The city trembles. Tension hangs in the air like before a storm. And on the arena, in the middle of the shattered streets, they appear. Jay Roth and Valeria Abanante. The school principal and, it seems, the most hated person in the world for each of the kids.

Jay, in his second form, looked like a shadow—a dark, sharp figure with predatory wings, clawed hands, and eyes burning red.

Abanante, in contrast, was graceful and sinister. Her body stretched out, and the feathers on her costume turned into a shiny, dark mass that seemed almost alive. Her eyes, usually a warm brown, now shone with a cold, vengeful gleam.

The voice of the Entity, which had become familiar, announced:

"Fight. Begin."

Jay did not hesitate. He knew that in a fight with Abanante, he couldn't give her an advantage. A concentrated beam of dark energy burst from his hands. Black as tar, it rushed forward, burning through the air.

Valeria, as if anticipating the blow, dodged with ease, and, without losing a second, responded with her own attack. A stream of magma, thick and fiery, burst from her palms, which seemed to carry not only heat but also all her hatred.

Jay parried the magma with a wave of dark energy, which instantly cooled and knocked it out of the way. Then he soared into the air, gaining altitude and maneuvering so that he was directly in front of the sun. Abanante, unable to react, was forced to close her eyes to avoid being blinded.

This was a mistake. And Jay took advantage of it. Like a battering ram, he crashed into Valeria, plunging his sharp claws directly into her waist.

A scream of rage burst from Abanante's chest. She growled, and a green, poisonous cloud erupted from her mouth, enveloping both of them. Dizziness immediately overcame Jay. His grip weakened, and he began to lose concentration.

Valeria used the moment to push him away with a powerful beam of dark energy, and, not giving him a chance to recover, "seasoned" the attack with a stream of magma. The magma burned Roth's arm, and he groaned in pain, but, clenching his teeth, he sank his teeth into Abanante's shoulder. The clawed fangs pierced her flesh, and she screamed in pain.

Enraged, Valeria threw the poisoned man away from her.

She rushed at him, not stopping her insults:

"Traitor! You were never loyal to the Crowfaces! That stupid reason why you helped us... Who puts the life of some simple son so high?!" her voice sounded as if she was trying to tear apart not only him but also his beliefs.

Jay snapped back, throwing a sphere of dark energy at her that knocked Abanante back. He shouted:

"Attachment is not a weakness. It's what makes us, humans, stronger!"

He lunged at Valeria, but she was faster. The school principal intercepted his hands, which were weakened by the poison, and then released a poisonous cloud directly into his face. Jay screamed. Valeria took advantage of his momentary weakness, releasing a stream of magma from her hands that hit the man directly in the chest. And then, using his inertia, she flipped him over and slammed him into the ground.

Not giving him a chance to even get up, she immediately fired a beam of dark energy, finishing Roth off.

A moment later, the Entity announced:

"Winner—Abanante!"

Jay Roth, like the other losers, disappeared, becoming a hologram, and was imprisoned in the red sphere.

Abanante is teleported up, clearly proud of herself.

And the reaction was immediate...

"You... BITCH!" Luanne's scream could probably be heard for a couple of kilometers, she had already switched to her second form.

The woman actively clung to the bars of the cell with her claws, wanting to tear them apart.

"I'LL GET TO YOU, I'LL KILL YOU!" threats flew from her mouth.

Abanante just yawned, clearly unconvinced.

"And what will you do? Pounce on me like your worthless husband? You only have two abilities—flight, dark energy. And one transformation into your second form. I have magma, a poisonous cloud, and teleportation in addition." a self-satisfied chuckle escaped the principal's lips.

Maritza, however, decided not to be silent:

"Be so confident, old lady. But believe me... when we fight, I'll leave nothing but a wet spot. No one messes with Aunt Luanne." the tomboy growled.

Finch confidently supported her:

"Yeah. Like... Nicky almost beat you, and he barely even had control of his power back then. Believe me... your stay here will be extremely short." the scout smirked.

Trinity self-righteously crossed her arms over her chest:

"Right. 4 of yours have already been eliminated. And you're all roughly on the same level. If anyone should be scared, it's you." Bales threatened.

Ivan, Aaron, Michael, and Delroy remained silent.

And then the words of the Entity:

"Next fight. Quentin versus Theodore."

The journalist and the criminal exchange glances. And Aaron looks between them.

"Da-" he doesn't get to finish as both men disappear.

Everyone immediately looked down...

The city seemed doomed to eternal ruins, and this grim scenery became the perfect backdrop for the next fight. Quentin and Theodore Peterson appeared in the arena, their gazes met, and the air instantly became electrified.

Aaron, watching from above, clenched his fists. Too much depended on this fight, and he couldn't look away.

Theodore spoke first, his voice was cold as steel:

"You don't understand anything. You're a nobody who will only bring Aaron misery."

There was a deep, twisted conviction in his words.

Quentin didn't fall for the provocation. He responded calmly and confidently:

"Aaron is happy with me. I didn't keep him in a basement. I gave him what he needed: genuine, undistorted care." the journalist took a step forward, his eyes burning with determination.

"He was lucky he ran into me. Without me, he wouldn't have survived. His beloved 'father' wasn't there."

These words were the final straw. Theodore roared, his face distorted with rage. Without warning, he lunged at Quentin. But the journalist was ready. Time slowed down around him, and Theodore froze in motion. At that moment, Quentin created a steel fist and punched Peterson directly in the temple, throwing him aside.

Before Theodore could recover, another blow followed, and then another, and another, and another.

Quentin gave him no respite, attacking him again and again, until a wild, deafening howl rang out. It was even more powerful than Trinity's "Sonic Howl." The sound wave threw Quentin back, and blood flowed from his ears.

Upstairs, Trinity exclaimed in horror:

"Where did he get my ability?"

Michael, with a pale face, answered:

"Father adopted abilities from everyone who has a Chaos stone. And each of them became even stronger."

Trinity, Maritza, Ivan, Delroy, and Finch exchanged frightened glances. Now the psycho has one ability from each of them.

Down below, Theodore, having recovered, made an instant dash without warning, overtaking Quentin, and delivered a powerful blow to his back. The journalist flew to the other side of the city, breaking through the wall of a ruined building.

Delroy up above whistled in amazement:

"That's... like my strength, only strengther..."

"It’s stronger." Ivan clenched his fists. He hoped that Theodore hadn't gotten the intellect.

Theodore began to run swiftly toward Quentin, his acceleration and mobility were almost instantaneous, surpassing Maritza's acceleration/mobility/speed gain.

«He... accelerates faster than me?» the tomboy thought, gulping.

Quentin, having managed to get back on his feet, jumped into a mirror, entering the Mirror World. Theodore stopped abruptly.

Around him were buildings with mirrors. He realized the trap:

«Damn...»

At that moment, Quentin flew out of a mirror and began to beat Theodore with a steel bat. Then he made a dash and delivered a decisive blow, throwing Peterson back.

But Theodore quickly recovered. He made a return dash, surpassing Quentin in speed, and attacked him... with an energy hand, exactly like Nicky's. Blue.

The blow hit Quentin directly in the stomach. He fell to his knees, clutching the spot where he was hit.

Theodore raised his hand, and dark clouds began to gather over the city. A moment later, lightning struck Quentin. Theodore could control the weather.

...

"And you're telling me that Nicky and Enzo escaped... before you arrived?" Jay raised an eyebrow, looking at Murtaugh in the other sphere.

"Yes. And it seems they did it before they..." he pointed at the Crowfaces.

"...woke up. It's unlikely they broke the cells with simple force, perhaps Nicholas managed to short-circuit them with his lightning." the teacher suggested.

"My son is so smart... but where is he now?" Jay looked around.

Nicky was nowhere to be found.

"He's probably exploring the island." Gerda's voice came through.

"Or he abandoned us, the little bastard..." Dale muttered.

Jay just lowered his gaze. He hoped that Nicky was okay.

But he was also worried about something else... if they were all here... then Alicia was alone in the real world, at home...

He clenched his fists, he wanted to go home so badly.

...

The rage of Theodore Peterson in the arena seemed to be the only thing that had not yet collapsed under the onslaught of the fights.

The lightning he unleashed on Quentin tore through the air, and everyone upstairs, including Aaron, tensed up. The dust slowly settled, and in its place, in the middle of the melted asphalt, a silhouette appeared.

It was Quentin. But not in his usual clothes. His body was now covered in a steel, turquoise-glowing armor.

Ivan's eyes widened. He instantly realized that Quentin had awakened the "Steel Boost." Now his physical characteristics had increased fivefold, and his control over steel was absolute.

The shock on Theodore's face was quickly replaced by rage, but Quentin didn't give him a chance to recover. He grabbed him by the leg, forcefully threw him to the ground, and then created many tiny steel balls, similar to bullets.

A hail of steel projectiles rained down on Theodore. He tried to defend himself by creating an energy paw, like Nicky's, but it wasn't enough.

Taking advantage of the moment, Quentin ran into a mirror, transporting himself to the mirror world.

Theodore, having recovered, was immediately knocked down by a huge black and white elephant. It was a drawing, but it was alive, three-dimensional, and steel armor shone on it.

Theodore roared with rage, punched the drawing in the face, and threw it back. But immediately, he was attacked by a drawn horse, which hit him from the side.

Next, a hawk appeared and carried Theodore into the air. And then he saw Quentin flying toward him on the same hawk. The journalist delivered a powerful blow to his face, and Theodore began to fall.

But Quentin wasn't finished. He created a steel spear and threw it directly at the falling Theodore. The spear pierced the man's shoulder, and he screamed in pain.

Theodore looked up and saw Quentin falling directly on him, with his fists forward. Theodore's face was pierced by hellish pain as Quentin's steel fist drove into him again and again.

He, despite his wounds, again let out a deafening howl that threw Quentin back. Without losing a second, he made a dash and with a powerful blow, slammed the journalist into the ground.

Then he raised his hand into the air, and a tornado began to form above them. It sucked Quentin in along with a lot of rubble.

Inside the vortex, Quentin was literally being torn apart, the current was too strong, and sharp objects were constantly flying at him.

Suddenly, the tornado disappeared, but the sky was again covered with clouds. It started to rain.

Ivan's and Trinity's eyes widened up above as they understood Theodore's plan. Raindrops fell on Quentin, and at that same moment, lightning struck him directly. Water is an excellent conductor of electricity.

After the explosion from the lightning strike, everything was enveloped in dust.

When the dust settled, Theodore stood over the defeated Quentin.

He had won.

Aaron's eyes widened at what he saw...

"Winner—Theodore Peterson." the entity announced, and the man was teleported to a cell.

Quentin suffered the same fate as the other losers... he disappeared.

Up above, in the cells, most of the heroes looked at Aaron, who had shrunk in the corner of the cell.

Theodore was the first to say something:

"Aaron... son. How-" Theodore began.

"SHUT UP!" Aaron's scream interrupted him.

Theodore froze. The surprise on his face was genuine, as was that of everyone else who was watching. He tried to take a step toward his son, to reach out a hand through the bars.

"Aaron... son. I..." he began.

"SHUT UP!" Aaron screamed again, his voice breaking into a snarl. He covered his ears with his hands, trying to block out everything that was happening. He didn't want to hear anything.

The heroes in their cells gave Theodore angry looks. Trinity clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white.

Among the Crowfaces, however, sarcastic laughter was heard. Abanante, Leslie, Tavish, and Harold began to mock Theodore, saying that even his son had turned his back on him.

"So lame, huh?" Abanante said with a laugh.

"Poor guy..." Tavish's childish voice said.

"Someone missing their sonny boy?" Leslie mocked.

"Someone wants to play the game 'Lock your son up so no one can find him'." Harold wiped away a "tear."

Theodore, who had just a few minutes ago won a crushing victory, instantly switched his attention to them. He let out a low, menacing growl that made them fall silent.

"Soon every one of you will die," he gritted through his teeth, and a cold, insane fire flashed in his eyes.

The Crowfaces immediately shut up, taking a step back. They were afraid of him, and it was obvious.

Theodore turned his gaze to the heroes.

"None of you will stop me from getting back the only living person I hold dear. No one." his voice sounded like a verdict.

"Yeah, old man. You won't get any of us without a fight!" Maritza shouted.

"Mind your language!" Luanne's voice cut in.

"Who gives a f#ck? I want to beat him up!" Delroy raised an eyebrow.

"And you very well could, if you get to the next round..." Ivan said.

Michael in his cell clenched his teeth. He felt his irritation building. Was he invisible? Not good enough for his father? Was he just a tool to get Aaron back? These thoughts burned inside him.

The verbal exchange was interrupted by the voice of the Entity, which sounded louder and colder than usual:

"Next fight. Luanne versus the Hooded Man."

Both fighters immediately disappeared from the cells.

The city greeted them with an eerie silence, broken only by the hum of the wind blowing through the ruined streets.

"Mrs. Roth!" Trinity's scream cut through the air.

"That guy is weird! He can do at least two things: transparency and... something like knocking people back!"

Luanne listened to the warning without losing a second. Her body immediately stretched out, and she transformed into her second Crowface form. Dark wings spread behind her back, ready to lift her into the sky at any moment.

The Hooded Man, as if he had heard Trinity's scream, just sighed heavily. He didn't attack directly. He just stepped into a shadow, and everyone gasped in surprise—his body dissolved as if he had never been there.

Luanne felt something solid hit her in the back. She fell forward, thrown back by a strong kick. Turning around, she saw the Hooded Man, who had come out of her own shadow. But before he could deliver the next blow, Luanne took flight, spreading her wings.

She didn't wait for him to disappear again. A beam of dark energy burst from her palms, which threw the Hooded Man back.

The man slid along the ground, braking with his heels on the concrete, as if the very air was preventing him from falling.

He quickly recovered. His body turned, and in the next second, he soared into the air. He wasn't flying like a bird, he was just gliding, disappearing behind a warehouse, as if he had become the wind.

But Luanne was too slow to react. A fist hit her head, and she fell to the ground. The Hooded Man delivered another blow, breaking the asphalt.

Pieces of concrete wounded her, and she screamed in pain. But he wasn't finished. The man grabbed her by her black hair and threw her to the ground, and then began to kick her again and again.

Up above:

"Damn! Aunt Luanne, come on!" Maritza encouraged her.

"Come on, Mrs. Roth, you can do it!" Finch shouted.

"...that guy." Abanante gritted her teeth. Remembering their only two clashes.

Who was he?

Down below:

Groaning in pain, Luanne gathered all her strength and released a wave of dark energy. The blow threw the Hooded Man back, giving her a short reprieve.

Now he was in the air, and the woman began to shoot beams at him. But the man dodged every attack, as if he was controlling the air itself. He moved quickly and unpredictably.

Then he disappeared again, dissolving into a shadow. However, Luanne anticipated his maneuver. She a

swiped her claws lightning-fast, scratching the spot where he should have appeared. And she guessed right.

A claw tore the hood, and everyone saw the face. Shocked looks pierced the air. Aaron, Trinity, Finch, and Maritza instantly blushed.

It was Nicky. Only older, about 35-40 years old. His hair was spiky, and his beard was messily shaved. His eyes looked tired, and his nose was longer. He was wearing an unbuttoned plaid shirt, under which a red and white blouse was visible. There was a brown watch on his wrist, and red and white sneakers with a star on his feet. The buttons on the pockets of his blue jeans were decorated with skulls.

Luanne barely managed to say:

"S-son..." but before she could finish, she received a lightning bolt directly to the face.

"I'm sorry..." the man said.

The adult Nicky didn't give Luanne a second's rest. Blue energy tentacles emerged from his back, they flew forward, wrapping around her body and throwing her into the air.

Next, he himself soared into the sky, using his flight, and delivered a powerful, lightning-infused punch directly to her stomach, which made her fly even higher.

He overtook Luanne, positioning himself above her, and formed a "Fear Attack." A blue sphere of energy appeared in his hands, and he plunged it directly into her, not giving her a chance to shoot.

Luanne was slammed into the ground.

Her body froze. Nicky had won.

"Winner—the Hooded Man, or rather, Nicholas Michael Roth from a previous timeline."

Nicky winced at these words, he clearly didn't want anyone to know that.

Luanne quickly disappeared just like the others.

Nicky, now known as the Hooded Man and the winner, was teleported to his cell. All eyes were on him, and his friends, former friends, couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Ivan was the first to break, his voice was cold as ice:

"Hooded Man. Or... Nicky? What do the Entity's words mean? 'From a previous timeline'? What are you?"

The others' questions were more personal, more emotional.

"Who are you?" Maritza shouted, her usually sassy tone replaced by confusion.

"You don't look like our Nicky. Are you... him?"

"Are you a clone? Why are you here?" Finch whispered, her eyes full of horror.

"You... you couldn't just become like this... Why are you doing this?" Trinity asked, gripping the bars of her cell.

Aaron just watched silently, his gaze full of pain and betrayal.

The adult Nicky, without raising his head, just said:

"I won't say anything. Not now."

His voice was devoid of emotion. He sounded as if he was tired of everything.

This wasn't the Nicky they knew. Not the boy who always tried to be a hero. This was a man, broken and hardened.

Theodore tried to talk to him:

"Nicholas?"

Nicky didn't even look toward his cell.

Theodore continued to try to talk to Nicky, but he paid him no attention. The man was clearly puzzled, as was everyone else.

Nicky, who was a complete Theodore-phobe, now acted as if he didn't even exist.

Usually, Theodore's mere presence would cause the young Roth to become anxious, and the mention of the basement would cause genuine fear. But now everything was different. The adult Nicky seemed to no longer consider Theo a significant threat, which surprised everyone who knew him.

…

The dust on the arena settled slowly, as if time itself was trying to slow down the inevitable.

The Entity, standing somewhere beyond perception, spoke in a low voice:

"Third Stage. First Round. Nicholas versus Adelle."

The words echoed through the ruined city. The shadow of collapsed buildings lay on the ground, like claws ready to close in.

Above, from the observer cages, the faces of the other fighters — Michael, Trinity, Ivan, and Delroy — were reflected in shattered glass.

Trinity did not take her eyes off him.

"It can't be him," she whispered, her fingers trembling, clutching the cold bars.

"It can't be Nicky..."

A man stood before her, but nothing remained of the boy she once knew. No warmth, no kindness. Only a burned-out shell inhabited by emptiness.

"He became the embodiment of fear," Ivan said quietly, looking down.

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"Quite ironic," Delroy scoffed.

And below, on the ground, Hood and the Witch stood opposite each other.

Nicholas didn't move, his figure almost translucent against the backdrop of the ruined city.

A faint blue vibration emanated from his body.

Adelle slowly slid forward, her fingers brushing the air, leaving trails of violet smoke behind her.

"Strange," she whispered.

"Usually, those who come here tremble. But you... stand calmly."

Nicholas lifted his head. Beneath the hood — two pale cyan sparks, reflecting no light.

"Calmness is what remains when everything else is burned away," he answered in a deep, low voice.

Above, Michael exhaled heavily.

"This is..." He didn't finish.

Trinity knew what he wanted to say: this is not a human.

The Entity announced:

"The fight has begun."

Adelle moved first.

With a lunge almost imperceptible to the eye, she raised her hand, and a cloud of violet energy burst from under her cloak. It darted across the ground like a snake, scorching everything it touched.

The asphalt under Nicholas's feet blackened, as if rotting.

He didn't wait — his body flashed with blue light, and the next moment he was airborne, leaving a trail of lightning behind him.

An instant — and he dive-bombs, his fist framed by electrical fire.

A strike — but the witch swatted it away, and her shadow swelled, hitting back. A wave of darkness flung the Hood to the side, breaking through a building wall.

But he didn't stop.

With a silent crackle of air, Nicholas vanished — and reappeared behind Adelle, emerging from her own shadow.

She only turned her head when his boot slammed into her side. The Witch flew back, shattering a stone wall, but immediately, without touching the ground, rose into the air.

"Not bad," she said, and a smile slid across her face.

"But you fight as if you're trying to prove something. To yourself? Or to the one who created you?"

"It doesn't matter," Nicholas replied quietly, not lifting his gaze.

"The main thing is to finish."

He stretched out his hand, and blue lightning erupted from his palm. The discharge struck Adelle, but she dissipated into smoke.

She materialized behind his back, like a reflection, but Nicholas was already moving. He ducked, spun around, and punched her in the stomach. The Witch doubled over, the air exploded in a flash, and her body flew through the wall.

Above, Ivan quietly exhaled:

"He... moves as if he's predicting every step. That's not reaction. That's — memory."

Trinity compressed her lips.

"Whose memory?"

No one answered.

Adelle rose from the rubble. Her eyes lit up with darkness.

"You are not human. But a power flows in you that belongs to none of the mortals."

"And you are not a witch," Nicholas answered coldly.

"You are a consequence."

She smirked and raised her hands.

Darkness unfolded beneath her feet, spreading like a sea of ink.

Everything around — the walls, the asphalt, even the air — became part of her magic.

"Then drown me in the consequences," he said calmly.

And with those words, a vortex of lightning enveloped his body, weaving into the blue cloak, turning him into a moving ball of light.

The violet sea collided with the blue hurricane.

The ground trembled.

Light and darkness mixed, creating a flash that illuminated the entire city.

Above, Michael shielded his eyes from the brightness, and Trinity whispered:

"It looks like even the Entity didn't expect a fight like this..."

...

Meanwhile, on the island:

Theodore abruptly opened his eyes. A second — and chaos of thoughts exploded in his head:

"Where am I? Ah, the island. Why am I on the island? And what island is this anyway?"

He blinks, trying to focus, and only now notices that he is standing in a red cage, the walls of which shimmer, as if they are made of liquid light.

And then his gaze catches another cage. Abanante. The same holographic one, just as confused.

And then he notices 4 empty spheres and many scattered ones. It finally dawns on Theodore...

"...We all... screwed up our fights," he exhales with tension.

He looked around, yes. The island, ordinary looking.

"Gotta get out," the thought races through his mind.

Attempt number one: Theodore's energy hands — bang! — and exactly zero effect. Attempt number two: super strength — bam! — and nothing again.

"Damn..." Theodore clenches his teeth, his brain starting to work faster.

"These are... mechanisms."

"...Gotta burn them to hell."

He raises his palms, and from above, as if the heavens were angry, a dazzling charge bursts forth. Lightning strikes the wall — and the cage begins to flicker, as if losing its form. One more time. And again.

A flash — and everything disappears.

He is free.

...

Adelle was breathing heavily, rising from the crater into which she had been slammed by the recent blow. Stones tumbled from the roof of the half-ruined house, the air trembled from overstrained magic.

Nicholas stood opposite — calm, almost silent.

The blue glow slowly slid across his hands, turning into transparent, but dense energy plates — like additional palms, woven from lightning and will.

He stepped — and disappeared.

Adelle barely managed to erect a runic shield in front of her. The next moment, the world exploded in a flash: a blow, as powerful as an artillery shot, cracked the ground beneath her. The shield's glow splintered, and scarlet cracks ran across the surface of the runes.

"Damn..." she whispered through clenched teeth, rolling aside as another strike slammed into the ground where she had just been standing.

Nicholas appeared behind her — absolutely silently. A strike with an energy-wrapped palm, and the space literally compressed around the point of collision. Adelle managed to put up a protective symbol — but only flew further away, hitting the wall.

He wasn't rushing. He wasn't running. He was just walking — confidently, measuredly, like a predator tired of the hunt, yet ready to finish what he started.

"Why are you silent?!" she screamed, raising her hand. A violet stream burst from her palm, turning into a swarm of poisonous arrows.

Nicholas raised his hand — and the energy momentarily distorted space. The arrows melted into the air, as if dissolving into his aura.

"Your spells..." he said quietly, in an even voice.

"They are loud. You are trying to appear stronger than you are."

Adelle gritted her teeth and sharply struck the ground with her palm. Inky spikes grew from beneath her feet, rushing towards him. But Nicholas, without even looking, walked right through them — the blue aura burned everything it touched, melting the witch's magic.

He was right next to her — and struck.

The air thundered, as if a thunderstorm had erupted right onto the ground. Adelle flew back, barely retaining consciousness. Blood appeared on her cheek.

Above, in the cages, Ivan paled.

"He... he's just playing with her," he whispered.

"This is not a fight. This is a beating."

Trinity lowered her gaze, her hands trembling.

"That's not Nicky, Del... It's not him."

And below, Nicholas, paying no attention to Adelle's groans or the ruined city around him, slowly lifted his head. His voice sounded hollow, choked:

"There is no place in this world for those who cling to the past."

He stepped forward, and a blue flash tore through the space — as if reality itself couldn't withstand his power.

Adelle collapsed to her knees, trying to raise another spell, but the light emanating from Nicholas became so bright that it obscured everything else.

He raised his hand.

...

Meanwhile:

"And then Jasmine told me she didn't care, and that I could be friends with him, but then I'd have to stop talking to her," Finch says.

"Pfft. Big deal," Maritza snorts.

She, Nicky, and Aaron were heading to the northern part of the island to defeat the titan.

The path to the northern part of the island was long, but hardly any of them noticed the journey.

Stone paths wound among fallen trees and scorched craters, the air still smelled of ozone — traces of past battles.

The girls walked side by side, and the guys were slightly ahead.

Finch rolled her eyes, clearly not expecting such an answer.

Maritza, noticing her friend's reaction, shrugged:

"What? I'll be blunt, Jasmine is a complete jerk. Just like you used to be."

Finch frowned, but lowered her head, mentally agreeing with Esposito.

"I mean, good friends don't limit your circle of acquaintances, do they? I don't think so," Maritza continued.

Finch sighed, looking at her friend:

"It's just... I miss her a little, we were friends all through high school. And to end it like this..."

"If she turned away from you so easily, then it was a pretty fake friendship," the approaching Aaron shook his head.

The two girls looked at the boy in confusion.

"What? Nicky is silent, and I can't get him to talk. He's not himself," Peterson explained.

Hearing that name, the friends looked at Peterson with determination.

Memories of one of their conversations appeared in their heads:

("Nasty place..." Maritza muttered.

"You suggested this path," Finch replied without emotion.

"Because it's shorter. Not because I want to have a picnic here."

They took a few more steps. Raindrops tapped on the dead slabs.

"Listen..." Maritza suddenly said, without turning around.

"You noticed it too, right? That something is wrong with Nicky?"

Finch was silent, but then briefly nodded.

"Yeah. He's... empty. Like someone is playing him, and he himself is somewhere locked in a box."

"And you... trust him?" Maritza's voice was hoarse.

"I want to. But I can't," Finch confessed honestly.

A pause. They stopped near a rusty lamp post, tilted by time. The light was dim. But nearby, the Black Stream (Raven Brooks - assuming it's a separate entity here, not the town) was bubbling. And it was cold not only from the wind.

"You know, I used to think you were entirely like that. A lying, nasty, arrogant jerk," Maritza said.

"But now I think maybe you, like me... just don't know how to feel normally."

Finch smirked — almost sadly.

"I know how to feel... it's just hard... to show those feelings, especially... very personal ones."

Maritza turned to her.

"Do you love him?"

Finch froze. Didn't breathe for a second. Then shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess so. Sometimes. And sometimes I want to punch him. Sometimes both at the same time... I didn't have a good example of love."

Maritza nodded.

"I understand. Because me neither." And her voice trembled.

"He annoys me. To tears. But when he's not around — it feels like a hole inside."

"...I don't think he'll choose anyone," Finch said quietly.

"Or he already has. Just not us."

"I don't want him to choose," Maritza lowered her gaze.

"I just want him to be himself again."

The wind drove trash and leaves across the water. Both fell silent.

Then Finch threw out:

"If he turns out not to be who he was... I won't hesitate."

Maritza looked in her direction. Fiercely.

"You'll kill him?"

"What?! No! I'll just beat him up, then take him to Ivan so he can concoct an antidote."

Maritza nodded. Slowly. As if not arguing, but accepting.

"It will be easier together," she said.

"...To knock him out?"

"No, to keep an eye on him. If he starts acting weird — we'll manage to hit him before someone dies."

Finch chuckled.

"Almost romantic."

"Everything with us is romantic — through fights and threats.")

"What?" Aaron raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding why they were looking at him like that.

"Just... memories. He's putting a burden on himself," Finch stated.

Nicky in front simply continued walking, without slowing down.

"God, he's so annoying right now... why did he suddenly become so silent, he was acting normally until his loss to Michael," Maritza whined.

Finch turned away, and Aaron stubbornly stared at the back of his best friend/love interest.

"I think... the loss might have made him this way," Finch suggested.

"What? Why?" Maritza didn't understand.

Finch sighed, grabbing her friend's hand.

Maritza, feeling Finch's hand on hers, immediately blushed, though she turned away to hide the flush.

"After our first battle against Michael, Ivan did a blood analysis and found that Michael is more stable than Nicky, and therefore... Nicky is likely a clone."

Maritza's eyes widened immediately, and she pulled out of Finch's grip.

"What?! That's nonsense! Nicky is not a clone! He's definitely-"

"-we know that," Aaron interrupted her.

He looked at Finch with a look that said, "Continue."

Allen sighed, nodding at Peterson.

"Nicky is very... sad after that, considering himself a mere copy, a mistake. I... however, managed to help him. Simply... it doesn't matter if you're a clone or the original. What matters is how you behave. Who you are."

Maritza calmed down slightly upon hearing this.

"I'm surprised you managed to say something so coherent," Aaron smirked.

Finch narrowed her eyes, shooting him a glare.

"Shut up, Peterson."

Aaron chuckled slightly before starting to speak:

"Of course, of course. I'm just surprised that during my absence, you and Nicky became friends, and even more." The last part of the sentence was clearly sarcastic, jealous.

"Oh. I just changed, okay? So... I suppose losing to Michael again shook him. Even though he knows he's the original, he essentially lost to... a copy."

Maritza interjected:

"An emo-copy, that's one. And he almost won, Michael was barely standing there."

Aaron sighed, glancing at both girls:

"I'm not sure that's the issue. Nicky already lost to Michael in front of me in the forest; I saved him then."

Maritza's eyes widened:

"Then what is it?"

Aaron looked up at the sky to see the sun, but the trees covered it, and the light from it grew weaker.

Aaron always considered Nicky his sun, a person who would always support him. But now... that sun was beginning to dim.

"I... think Franklin is involved. He brainwashed Nicky! Moreover, it's because of him that 'The Thing' is inside Nicky, and he possesses dark, or shadow, energy. It must be... the darkness is corrupting him. Or Franklin is manipulating him."

Silence fell. Only the rustling of leaves and branches the heroes stepped on while walking could be heard.

"God... your uncle is going to catch it!" Maritza punched her fist into her palm.

A fiery aura formed around her, as if confirming her words with its heat.

"Yeah... I hate him too. But I think that-" Aaron began.

"-we should talk to Nicky," Finch interrupted him.

Aaron nodded, looking at Finch and Maritza with complete seriousness.

Finch smirked, clearly determined. Maritza snorted, but gave a thumbs up.

They sped up, beginning to catch up to Nicky.

...

In the city:

Adelle was breathing heavily, retreating, feeling her legs trembling, and her heart pounding in her chest as if it wanted to break out.

Every blow from Nicholas brought her closer to defeat — not only physical, but also moral.

He wasn't wrong. He truly became something... different.

The power with which he moved, the precision, the coldness — all of it was beyond human limits.

Not human, flashed through her mind.

...a ghost. A mechanism in a human body.

Another strike. She barely managed to recoil, a rune exploded under her feet, saving her for a moment, but burning her leg in return.

Adelle sank to one knee. In the air — the smell of ozone, stone dust, and burning. Nicholas walked towards her — slowly, without emotion, without malice. Just like an executioner tired of his work.

She looked at him — and suddenly remembered the rule. Simple, but merciless.

If any of the fighters holds back, then both of them will be disqualified.

It clicked in her head.

Nicholas is not holding back. She feels it. He just isn't killing her, though he could.

He doesn't just want to win. He acts as if this is all part of a plan.

She gave a hoarse chuckle, looking up:

"I get it... you're not trying to win, are you?"

Nicholas narrowed his eyes slightly.

"It doesn't matter."

"You're wrong," the Witch slowly stood up.

"It does."

She lowered her hands.

She erected neither runes nor shields. Not a single defensive gesture.

He reacted instantly — an explosion of movement, a blue glow, he was right in front of her, his palm charged with energy. But suddenly he stopped.

Adelle just stood there. Without fear. Without the intention to defend herself.

"What are you..." he began, but didn't have time.

The air exploded in a blinding flash.

The Entity's voice, cold, inhuman, rang out directly in both their minds:

"Rule violation. One of the participants consciously refused to fight at full strength. According to the rules — both are disqualified."

"What?.." Nicholas sharply looked up, the blue aura flaring.

"Wait!"

But it was too late.

A sharp, cutting pain pierced his body — as if he was being torn apart from the inside. Adelle screamed, falling to her knees, but even in that scream, there was relief.

Nicholas tried to contain the energy, but his hands became transparent. His eyes widened — for the first time, not coldness, but genuine surprise flickered in them.

"Damn..." was all he managed to say.

The world around dissolved in a blue glow. Their bodies disintegrated into light particles, turning into holograms.

The next moment, they were both enclosed in red spheres — as if in frozen drops of blood.

The spheres rose into the air and silently disappeared — teleported away, to an unknown location.

Only emptiness remained in the arena. Silence. The ruined city, the settling dust — and the trembling gazes of those watching from above.

Ivan slowly exhaled.

"They... both flew out?"

Trinity swallowed hard.

"Apparently... that Adelle decided that if she wasn't going to pass, no one else would."

Ivan nodded, but then the Entity's next words drove him into a panic:

"Next fight. Ivan Torre versus Delroy Schmidt."

Trinity looked anxiously at Ivan and Delroy, who looked no less... frightened.

Oh damn... Delroy swallowed.

No! No! No! Ivan mentally screamed.

But nothing escaped their lips.

They are forced to fight against each other...

...

Meanwhile:

The air on the island was heavy and damp — as if the sea itself was pressing the sky to the ground. Gulls circled lazily overhead, but even their cries sounded hollow, muffled by the fog that lay between the trees.

Nicky walked ahead, without looking back. His steps were quick, almost silent — as if he was afraid the ground beneath his feet would feel something. His head was down, his shoulders tense. His face was frozen in the expression that all three — Aaron, Finch, and Maritza — were beginning to recognize too well.

"Hey." Finch was the first to give in, running closer.

"Maybe you can at least tell us where we're going? Or are we going to where it 'will sort itself out' again? Of course, we know the Titan is on the northern side, but still... where exactly?"

Nicky didn't answer. He only slightly turned his head, as if he wanted to say something... but changed his mind.

Maritza snorted.

"Classic. Mysterious guy with empty eyes. Let me guess: 'I don't want to involve you in this'?" She dramatically waved her hands.

"Nicky, we're already waist-deep in this!"

Aaron stepped forward, catching up to his friend.

"Listen..." he began softly.

"We've just been worried about you ever since..." He stumbled, not daring to mention the aura flash.

"...well, ever since you became different."

Nicky stopped.

For a few seconds — only the sound of waves crashing against the rocks in the distance.

He didn't turn around, but quietly said:

"I... don't know how to explain."

Finch crossed her arms.

"Try. We won't leave anyway."

Nicky sighed and looked up. His eyes, still with dark reflections from the recent energy outburst, momentarily sparkled under a beam of sun that broke through the foliage.

"When Franklin saved me..." he began quietly.

"I felt... something strange. Not just gratitude. Pain too. But not physical. As if he did it not for me, but... for someone else. Or for who I once was. And at the same time... and for me, I can't explain it."

Maritza frowned.

"And you decided to shut down because... you're uncomfortable that you were saved? I mean, I know he's a very murky guy... but still."

"No." He chuckled slightly, but without a trace of joy.

"Because I realized that inside me, there still... remains what I wanted to destroy."

Finch stepped closer, looking him directly in the eyes.

"You mean the dark energy?"

Nicky nodded.

"Yes. It didn't leave. Even after Nocky disappeared. Sometimes I feel it stirring, as if... waiting. Waiting for me to snap."

"Well, don't give it a reason," Finch said sharply and slapped his shoulder.

"We already have one psycho in black; we don't need a second."

Maritza barely contained a smile.

"Yeah, or I'll have to slap your cheek again, only harder."

Nicky involuntarily smiled with the corner of his lips.

"You wouldn't give me a chance, would you?"

"Never," she said confidently.

Aaron exhaled in relief, looking at both of them.

"There, human faces again. I thought you had become a walking nightmare without expressions."

"Almost," Nicky smirked.

"But, apparently, you slow me down a bit."

Finch scoffed:

"Then we'll be your brakes until the end."

The company moved forward again.

Nicky walked slightly ahead again, as if leading them, but now his steps were slower — he felt the gazes of his three friends on him.

Finch and Maritza exchanged glances — anxious, heavy.

Aaron — on the contrary, looked resolute, although doubt tormented him inside.

Finch quietly breathed out:

"Don't look at me like that, Aaron. You understand, he's... unstable right now."

"That's exactly why he must know," he replied calmly, but firmly.

"He needs to be ready."

Maritza frowned, looking at the ground.

"Ready? To find out that the psycho in the hood is himself, only... from another time? He'll go crazy."

"Or on the contrary, he'll hold on," Aaron countered.

"You know Nicky. He's not one to break from the truth. Lies destroy him."

Finch crossed her arms, turning away.

"What if he doesn't? What if this is the last straw?"

Aaron looked at her silently, then at Maritza.

"Then at least he'll find out from us. Not from the enemies. Or from him."

Nicky, feeling something happening behind him, finally stopped and turned around.

"Hey... what's with the whispering?" His voice sounded calm, but wary.

The trio instantly fell silent.

Finch bit her lip. Maritza stepped back, as if she didn't want to participate. Aaron remained standing.

He met Nicky's gaze.

"There's something you need to know."

Nicky raised an eyebrow.

"What now? Just don't tell me the tournament organizer is one of your relatives. Adelle and Franklin were enough."

"No," Aaron breathed out.

"It's... about the tournament. And about someone you'll meet soon."

Finch sharply intervened:

"Aaron!" but he raised his hand, not letting her stop him.

"I can't stay silent anymore," he said firmly.

"We all saw the fight. The one who fought Aunt Luanne. In the hood."

Nicky frowned.

"Yes, I remember him. What about him? If it's because he beat up my mom, then I'm telling you in advance, I'm personally going to give him hell."

Aaron took a deep breath, as if before jumping into icy water.

"That... he is you, Nicky."

Pause.

At first, Nicky just blinked. Then he smirked, as if he heard a silly joke:

"What?"

"I'm not kidding," Aaron said.

"It's you. From another time. From... the past. Or the future. We don't know ourselves. But it's definitely you. The Entity said so, and he even has the same spiral on his chin."

The air around them seemed to freeze.

Finch closed her eyes, Maritza looked away.

Nicky stood motionless. His face was empty.

"And you..." he said quietly.

"...knew all this time?"

Finch said softly:

"We thought it would be better that way."

He nodded silently.

"Better?"

"Nicky," Maritza tried to intervene.

"...you were already at your limit. We didn't want you to... snap."

He sharply turned to her.

"And now what? Do you think I won't snap?" His voice trembled, and the air around barely perceptibly shook — a flash of dark cyan energy flickered for a moment.

Aaron stepped forward.

"We didn't do it out of pity. But because we knew — you're not the type to run from the truth."

Nicky clenched his fists. His breathing became ragged.

"The truth..." he repeated, almost a whisper.

"So, the truth is that I myself turned into the monster who beat up my mother?"

Finch quietly whispered:

"It wasn't you. It was... another you."

Nicky looked up at her — there was neither anger nor pain in his gaze.

Only coldness.

"I don't think there's a difference."

He turned and walked forward, without looking back.

"Thanks for the truth. At least now I know what I can turn into."

Aaron wanted to say something, but Finch put her hand on his shoulder.

"Give him time," she said quietly.

"If you go near him now — he'll just explode."

Maritza watched Nicky's back disappearing into the fog.

"He already exploded," she whispered.

"Just inside."

And the fog closed behind him, as if the darkness itself decided to let him walk alone — to where his own self was waiting for him.

The fog began to dissipate, revealing a narrow path leading to a ruined tower on the hill.

Their steps echoed in the emptiness.

Nicky felt — something was indeed stirring inside him.

The darkness hadn't disappeared. It was just waiting for the moment.

He walked along the path, strewn with ash and broken glass, not even noticing his boots slipping on the stones. The sea roared somewhere in the distance, but his mind was far from this island.

Thoughts pounded in his head, like raindrops on metal: haphazardly, painfully, not allowing silence a chance.

If he is me... then what is all this for?

He remembered that moment — the darkness, the dream, and the figure in the hood standing amidst a vortex of glowing energies.

He didn't understand what it meant then. The Hood spoke quietly, almost a whisper, but every word echoed in his soul.

"Your power is a curse, not a gift."

Now, it all sounded like a mockery.

"He gave me these powers," Nicky whispered, clenching his fist.

"He knew how this would end."

A blue spark slipped between his fingers, but immediately faded.

"Handing out stones... to everyone," Nicky remembered his other friends, their strange abilities, their accidental awakenings.

He also remembered how, at the beginning of the tournament, he looked completely calm. Not surprised, even though they were kidnapped and locked in cages.

"He set all this up himself. The tournament, the spheres, the energy..."

He stopped, looking into the void where the wind stirred the dry branches.

"But why?" he whispered.

"To test us? Me? Or to make sure I become... him?"

That day flashed in his memory — his home, a note written in his handwriting. He appeared then — the Hood. Without warning, without emotion.

He led him away then, like a mentor.

Showed him the place where the "beginning" once was.

And then... disappeared.

"He could have saved Finch," Nicky said aloud, looking at the ground.

"He could have. But he didn't. Why?"

There was no answer. Only the memory — metallic, bitter to the taste.

And then — the attack.

Everything mixed together. Finch, blood, darkness. Catacombs. Cold earth beneath his palms. The feeling of horror gripping his chest. And he — himself against himself.

"Swearing doesn't make you cool, kid."

The Hood's voice rang directly in his head, hollow, restrained. And now — again.

Nicky closed his eyes, feeling everything inside ache from the tension.

"Do you want me to become you?" he asked the emptiness.

"Or for me to kill you?"

The wind intensified, and dry leaves swirled around, like a vortex of shadows.

"You give to take away. You help to wound later."

His voice became sharper.

"This is not fate. This is a game. And I'm not going to be your pawn."

He lifted his head, looking at the sky, where a ray of light broke through the clouds — short, almost symbolic.

"If you are my future," Nicky said quietly.

"...then I'll rewrite it."

For a moment, the air around him thickened, as if the island itself responded to his words. Blue energy softly flared around him, but a strange impurity flickered in its glow — a faint, barely discernible dark hue.

The power the Hood gave him. The power he couldn't get rid of.

"But until I find you," Nicky added, looking ahead.

"...I won't stop."

He stepped further along the path. The wind subsided, leaving behind only the quiet rustle of sand and the echo of one question, ringing in his head, as if from afar:

What if he's not the enemy?..

But Nicky didn't answer.

The wind around them cut like a knife. Trinity hung in the air, her eyes glowing with a violet storm. Michael was higher, slightly off to the side, his Doom Wings spread like those of a demon ready to fall from the heavens.

Trinity sharply raised her hand.

"Magic Shot!"

Three violet beams erupted from her palm at once—dense, bright, so concentrated that the air vibrated, as if lightning struck the strings of the world. The beams didn't just move fast—they tore through space.

Michael snarled, raising his hands:

"Come on, go on, try it! Doom Shield!"

Two white-hot shields appeared in his palms—black and red, with streaks of magma flowing inside. They hummed, throwing off heat that made the air tremble.

But...

Right in front of Michael—snap—a violet plate appeared.

Thin. Fragile. Gleaming.

"What the—?!"

Trinity's beam struck it—and ricocheted, changing trajectory almost at a right angle.

"Reflection Shield," Trinity whispered coldly, extending her palms.

Shields appeared one after another—small violet mirrors, flashing in the air for a fraction of a second.

And every reflected beam—accelerated, gaining power.

The first projectile slammed into Michael from the side, past his shield, and he exhaled in pain, blood spurting from his sliced shoulder.

"WHAT THE—?!"

He barely managed to raise the "Doom Shield" before the second shot.

The second beam crashed in—the shield cracked, broke...

"NO-NO-NO—"

And the beam knocked Michael back, punching a glowing hole in his defense.

The third—the fastest, densest, and most furious—flew straight at his chest.

Michael sharply snapped his fingers.

"CHAOS MAGIC!"

A distorted, violet-purple rift opened before him. Air was pulled inside, as if into a funnel. Space trembled.

The beam crashed in—and... disappeared into the warp.

Michael smirked:

"Thanks for the acceleration."

He snapped a second time.

"Chaos... snap!"

And Michael vanished.

Trinity barely managed to turn her head before—

"Behind you, you fool."

A kick, fully charged with chaos energy, white-hot and red as hellfire, slammed directly into her temple.

A loud clap.

And Trinity flew down.

Not falling—flying, like a struck comet, losing altitude, speed increasing, the air tearing around her.

She thought she would manage to stabilize herself.

She didn't.

And—IMPACT.

The ground exploded from the force of her fall. Dust, stones, and cracks spread for several meters. The air vibrated.

Ivan cried out above:

"TRINITY!!!"

Michael hovered in the air, breathing heavily, but smiling... crookedly, maliciously, bloodily.

"One problem down..."

He wiped the blood from his lips.

"... or not?"

His eyes widened.

The dust hadn't settled yet. The ground was still shaking from her fall.

And suddenly... BOOM.

A column of violet energy erupted from the crater. So dense that the air cracked like glass.

Ivan froze.

Michael—staggered back, his chaos aura flaring in response, trying to "understand" what this power was.

Something was stirring inside the column.

No. Someone.

Trinity rose... but this was no longer the same Trinity.

"...limit... break..."—her voice was booming, as if not coming from her throat, but from the very energy around her.

Four violet energy rings materialized around her—two on her arms, two on her legs. They rotated like acceleration seals.

Following this, elements of all types began to spread across Trinity's body, but all of them were violet, distorted, as if refined by her sorcery.

The sight was incredible:

* Left arm—burned with violet flame, tongues of fire flowed across her fingers.

* Right arm—covered in liquid water, streaming but holding form.

* Left leg—wrapped in violet vines, the thorns moving on their own.

* Right leg—iced over, crystals of ice shimmering.

* Abdomen—a metallic layer, violet-hued steel.

* Waist—small stone spikes of earth circled around it.

* One thigh—emitted a soft violet glow of light.

* The other thigh—covered in flowing sand.

* Chest—ripped by violet lightning, flashing with every breath.

And her hair and head—were as if in a constant storm.

Her eyes—empty, luminous. Her breath—steam and electricity.

Ivan gasped:

"WHAT IS THAT?.."

Michael looked at her with wide eyes:

"...you can't use that... that's—"

But Trinity wasn't listening.

She took a step forward—and the air popped.

"FLIGHT OF HOPE!"

Four energy clumps flared up on her hands and feet, like jet nozzles.

She took off—not smoothly—like a rocket launch.

Altitude. Acceleration. Turns. Wind currents spiraled around her.

She achieved the mode:

A violet blur appeared in the sky.

Michael, seeing this, fiercely raised his head:

"Good... then..."

He hung motionless in the air and roared:

"COME ON, TRINITY! HURT ME!!!"

He spread his wings; scarlet sparks of chaos burst from them.

And—they collided.

Not with a hand. Not with magic.

With forces.

A violet chaos-storm against a red chaos-fire.

And the explosion in the sky was so huge that the ground beneath them cracked.

…

Ivan pressed against the bars. This new technique of Trinity's... it was fundamental.

Moreover, she seemed to have adopted the elements of each of them, deciding to mimic them. And apparently added sand and light to that formula.

He remembered Murtaugh's words:

"When you want to create a special recipe, sometimes the answer can be found in other recipes, which only together yield a true masterpiece."

However, these memories also awakened others, the last words of two people close to him, before they disappeared.

"I love you, son..."—Murtaugh.

"Don't... lose... hope... We... always... find a way..."—Delroy.

This forced the boy to understand one thing: if he wanted to see his loved ones again, he needed to pull himself together.

…

Michael was being pushed back. Not just pushed—cornered, forced to defend himself, thinking only about how not to die.

Trinity in Limit Break + Wind Boost mode was a true storm.

"Fire Body"

She soared upward, and her fist flared with violet flame.

She appeared before Michael in an instant—and struck.

The flame scorched his cheek, leaving a ragged, charred trail.

Michael shrieked with rage, his mouth looking more like a beast's than a man's.

But he still managed:

"Chaos Nightmare!"

His fists pulsed with violet-purple spheres of chaotic distortion.

The air cracked, and the shockwave hurled Trinity back.

But she wasn't an ordinary fighter. She didn't yield the initiative.

In mid-flight, still turning in the air, she extended her arm:

"LIGHTNING OF CONVICTION!"

A violet discharge, like a whip, struck Michael in the chest. His body twitched—paralyzed.

He didn't have time to breathe or shield himself.

"EARTH OF BRAVERY!"

Massive chunks of violet stone energy flew from the heavens, striking Michael one after another.

Each impact sounded as if he were being hit by a truck.

He tore himself out of the paralysis. With fury. With pain.

But Trinity was already near.

"Steel Break! Water Slash!"—a combination.

Her fist, covered in violet steel, came from above. A blade of water—from below.

A double strike.

Michael was thrown sideways, he almost lost his balance, but held on with his Doom Wings, leveling his position.

He roared:

"ENOUGH!!! DOOM MORPH!"

Michael compressed into a dark, pulsating sphere. Red patterns burned within the magma-surface. Tentacles—living, contorted, fleshy—burst out as eleven whips.

They lunged at Trinity.

Some—grabbed her legs. Others—aimed for her neck. A third set—for her waist, trying to break her spine.

But Trinity remained cold, almost supernaturally calm.

"CHILL OF WILL"

A sharp swing of her arm—and a powerful violet frost erupted from her palm.

THE MAJORITY of the tentacles turned into ice statues and instantly crumbled.

The remaining ones she caught:

"LIANES OF ABSORPTION"

Violet vines shot out from her legs and arms, as if alive.

They wrapped around the tentacles—and immediately began to suck energy from Michael.

Michael felt it instantly.

He bellowed. Not humanly.

And immediately canceled the Doom Morph, throwing the lianes aside.

He was breathing heavily, his whole body trembling.

But the Chaos Boost and wings—remained.

"Don't... come near... ME!!!"

"CHAOS SPEAR!"

Dozens of chaos spears appeared in his hands—electric, yellow, vibrating.

He hurled them like a machine gun.

But Trinity merely exhaled:

"BURIAL OF ALLEGIANCE"

Violet sand flashed beneath her.

It rose in a wall—and the chaos spears plunged into it, getting stuck as if in a viscous quicksand.

But Michael had prepared a combination.

"CHAOS MAGIC!"

A switch. A snap of the fingers.

A spatial rift appeared before him—violet-white, distorted.

He tossed Trinity even higher, disrupting her trajectory control.

"Bad choice, Michael..." she whispered, spreading her arms wide.

"LIGHT OF HEROISM"

A flash. Sharp. White-violet.

Michael was blinded. He shrieked, flailing in the air, blindly covering his eyes.

And when his vision returned...

He saw a dragon.

"WIND DRAGON"

A mass of wind formed into a huge snout, body, and wings. Razor-sharp lines, cutting the air like blades.

The dragon roared and fell onto Michael from above.

"N-NO—"

TOO LATE.

Impact.

A cutting squall.

And Michael was slammed directly into the city.

A muffled explosion.

Earth flew upward.

Houses trembled.

A cloud of smoke rose like a mushroom.

Ivan, watching from the side, only managed to say:

"...she's going to KILL him..."

But then... CLICK.

That sound—barely audible. Almost innocent. But it cut through the space louder than the explosion.

Trinity froze, as if someone had pulled the air from her lungs.

Four golden rings—her and his only protection from the madness of power—fell onto the stone.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

The metal was quiet. The world—was not.

An explosion of energy.

Yellow. Pure. Blinding.

The aura swirling on Michael's shoulders changed instantly: the red crimson flash—disappeared, replaced by an even glow, as if an ancient sun had burst out of a leather sheath.

The air vibrated.

Stone slabs beneath their feet cracked, spreading into a web of fissures.

The pressure grew—as if his own gravity field was forming around him.

Even Trinity, in Limit Breakthrough and Wind Boost modes, felt it: her ribcage was squeezed, as if in a vise.

Michael lifted his head.

His eyes—gold. Gold with streaks of red.

Power. True. Uninhibited.

And Trinity understood, he had stopped playing.

A blow she didn't even see.

A flash of cyan light.

Her eyes didn't even have time to blink.

Michael—vanished. Simply disappeared from her field of vision.

And immediately—BAM!

He materialized behind her, a leg overflowing with golden energy slammed into the back of her head.

The blow was so strong that the sound arrived later.

Trinity flew in an arc but managed to stop herself by activating wind currents.

She gritted her teeth. The pain—sharp, cutting, but it forced her to be more alert.

She didn't have time to inhale.

Trinity raised her hands:

"MAGIC SHOT!"

Three concentrated beams exploded into the sky, rushing toward Michael.

He responded just as quickly:

"CHAOSSS SPEAR!"

Yellow electric clumps flew to meet them.

The air between them tore from the collisions. Light, smoke, sparks—as if two armies of beams were fighting in the air.

Michael teleported again.

Again behind her. Again—a strike was about to follow.

But now Trinity anticipated.

"LIAANESS OF ABSORPTION!"

Violet vines shot out of the air, grabbing Michael by the arms, legs, chest, and throat.

They immediately began to drain his energy.

He felt it. Instantly. His aura flared brighter, resisting.

"I... told you... NOT... TO TOUCH ME!" he roared through clenched teeth.

He tore them apart. They cracked like dry branches, scattering in shreds.

And immediately—a punch to Trinity's face.

Her head snapped to the side, blood flew in an arc.

She barely stayed in the air.

Through tears of pain, she extended her palms:

"BLADES... OF WIND!"

Two cutting arcs erupted from her hands.

Michael barely managed to dodge, but the blades still grazed his cheeks.

Wounds opened instantly.

Thin lines—but deep. And blood flowed.

He was stunned. He was angered. He was... in a frenzy.

He lunged forward, grabbing her neck with one hand, squeezing as if trying to break her throat.

Trinity gasped. Felt her vision shaking.

He was going to choke her.

But...

"BURIAL OF ALLEGIANCE!" she shouted with a broken voice.

Violet sand exploded around Michael—from the ground, from the air, as if from the very universe.

It enveloped his arms, legs, neck, and chest.

And began to choke him.

Harder. Harder. Harder.

Michael's lungs felt like they were bursting from the inside, he couldn't inhale.

Panic. Real. Absolute.

He hit the sand with his hands.

Tried to break free. But couldn't.

And... for the first time in the fight...

He spoke. He broke.

"I..."—a gasp.

"I don't want... to lose... Not now... when... at least someone... tried to understand... me..."

"Ivan... you..."

"You said... that I... might not be a monster..."

The words burst out on their own, uncontrolled, unfiltered.

This wasn't a battle cry. It was almost a confession.

And Trinity heard it.

An echo inside her—dangerous, fragile—touched an old wound. The one that was Nicky.

His words. His fear. His loneliness.

And for a moment... the world changed for her.

She didn't see Michael.

She saw Nicky.

And that moment cost her everything.

Her concentration dropped.

Michael sensed the weakness.

He tore through the sand.

And before Trinity could recover.

"SUPREME CHAOS SPEAR"

He created a shimmering yellow-green spear. Chaos energy concentrated to the limit.

He raised his arm and pierced her chest.

Directly. Accurately. Deeply.

Trinity choked on her breath.

Blood flowed from the wound... and from her mouth. But her eyes remained bright.

She didn't fall.

She raised her hand—with a final effort.

"...Ma...gic... SHOT!!!"

And the shot hit Michael at point-blank range.

He didn't have time to shield himself. Didn't have time to teleport.

He was thrown back like a rag doll, slammed into the ground.

Creating a new crater.

Stronger than the previous one.

Trinity was breathing heavily. All wounded, with a hole in her chest, but still standing. She raised her arms to the sky—slowly, as if every movement brought pain to her ribs. Her fingers trembled. The air around her began to hum.

Violet energy flowed to her. The grass lay down, as if a giant hand was stroking it. Insects, birds—all living things around gave up a part of themselves. Even the stones seemed to vibrate, filling her spell with the grain of their ancient energy.

A sphere began to grow above her head—smooth, clean, heavy. Trinity stood, frozen like a statue. Only her chest convulsed with pain and heavy breathing.

Spirit Bomb... Her last hope.

Michael slowly rose from the crater where the magic had slammed him. Dust flew off his shoulders. His breathing was ragged, the bright yellow aura still shimmered around his body, but it had already lost stability—as if vibrating, risking an uncontrollable explosion.

He saw Trinity's arms raised to the sky.

And instantly recognized it.

"Oh no..." he exhaled.

"Not that. Not the 'Spirit Bomb'..."

He didn't have a second. Not a moment. Not a chance to wait.

He gathered the densest, most dangerous chaos he was capable of summoning in his hands, while the inhibitor rings lay on the ground—useless, scattered.

Red energy began to condense in front of his palm, pulsating like a miniature sun. The ground beneath his feet swelled. Sparks flew from the cracks.

"CHAOOSS... BLAST!!!"

He unleashed the beam.

Trinity lifted her head. Her face was pale. Blood, running down her chin, left a red streak.

She saw the red beam rushing toward her. Leaving no air, giving no time.

She threw the sphere.

"Gooo!!!" she cried out, her voice almost breaking.

The violet sphere collided with the yellow beam.

The world seemed to compress into a single point.

Sound left, as if ripped away. Everything became quiet. Too quiet.

And then... EXPLOSION

Not a flash—a sun. Not a shockwave—a wall of absolute force.

A gigantic ball of light burst outward. Earth was thrown into the air. Stones turned to dust. Trees bent over, as if trying to hide.

And the explosion engulfed both of them—Michael and Trinity.

Ivan was hurled backward, even though he was standing very far away. His ears were ringing, and his heart seemed to stop for a moment.

The sky turned white.

The light almost burned his eyes.

When everything ended—a complete, dead silence fell.

Smoke hung over the arena like a fog. Dense, viscous. Nothing could be seen beyond a few meters.

Ivan squeezed his eyes shut with his hand and tried to make out anything.

His heart was pounding in his throat.

"Guys?..." His voice trembled.

"Where... who?.."

He took a step forward. Then another. The wind carried away some of the smoke, slowly revealing the devastated ground.

"Please..." he whispered.

"Please, someone..."

Ivan strained his eyes, searching for silhouettes.

But in the smoke... nothing was visible.

No movement. No light. No breathing.

"Who... won?.." he uttered, almost without a voice.

And silence answered him.

The smoke finally began to dissipate. Slowly, lazily, as if it itself did not want to reveal the consequences of the collision of two absolute forces to the world.

And when the whitish plumes rose, drifting upward...

Trinity and Michael stood opposite each other.

Both—barely holding onto their feet.

Both—trembling with pain and exhaustion.

Both—cut, burned, almost shattered.

Michael's aura was smoking—the remnants of the Uninhibited form.

Trinity's clothes were torn... and there was a huge hole in her chest from the chaos spear. The wound was still smoldering.

But they were standing.

Though barely.

Silence covered the arena. Even the wind seemed scared.

The Last Moment of Equilibrium

Trinity tried to take a step forward.

Her knee buckled.

She straightened up. Gritted her teeth. Looked at Michael, who also seemed about to collapse.

And yet...

Her body gave out first.

She fell forward—as if the thread holding her will had finally snapped. The ground met her with a dull thud.

And at that moment, the Entity's voice rang out over the arena—cold, indifferent.

"Winner: Michael. He advances to the fourth phase."

Ivan flinched.

But to stand up, run over, help—he couldn't. The rules. The cursed rules. The cursed cage in the air.

Blinking weakly, Trinity felt reality begin to tremble around her.

The veins on her arms flickered cyan.

Her skin glowed—not with natural light, but... digitally.

"N-no..." Ivan whispered, realizing what was about to happen.

But it was irreversible.

Her legs began to... crumble.

Not into blood. Not into shadows.

But into cyan pixels, as if her body were a fragile hologram that had been dealt a fatal blow.

Trinity looked at her fingers, which were melting into the air.

She knew she didn't know where she would be sent. What was beyond the boundary. But she had one hope...

"Please... I want to see them. Nicky... Aaron... at least there..."

Ivan managed to read this thought. And the last flash in her consciousness—was directed at him:

"Ivan... I believe... that you will save everyone..."

And then...

An explosion of cyan pixels.

She vanished.

Completely.

The Entity Decides Everything

In the spot where Trinity lay, a cage materialized.

The walls—red, dense, energetic. And inside—Trinity.

Real. Not physically wounded, but completely immobilized.

A holographic shadow of herself.

Powerless, with empty eyes, as if a system had been shut down.

Ivan stretched out his hand, as if he could pull her out.

"TRINITY!!!" The cry tore his voice.

But the cage blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And disappeared, swallowed by a bright flash of light, as if it had never existed.

Silence

Michael, swaying, looked up.

Ivan stood, covering his mouth with his hand.

And the arena—was dead and empty.

Only a cold voice inside each of them:

She lost. And she is no longer here.

But where she is now—only the Entity knows.

…

The Island

Theodore, having emerged from the flickering red sphere, stood for a few seconds, breathing deeply, as if trying to gather the thoughts scattered into chaos.

The island. Stones. Wind.

And the silence, the very one that sent chills down his spine.

While he was recovering, new spheres materialized next to him, one after another.

Three.

And in each—a familiar person: Adelle... Nicholas, the Hooded Man... and Tavish.

Theodore blinked, trying to figure out what was happening, but then noticed movement in the sky.

A dark figure was rapidly flying toward him.

"A Crowface?" he muttered, squinting.

Black wings, a dense trail of ash behind them—yes, one of the Crowfaces. Harold.

But someone else was approaching him on the ground, leaping, like a comet with legs.

Theodore peered closer—and almost recoiled.

Enzo.

The same boy Esposito.

Only now he was... different.

A holographic form—like all the imprisoned.

But two energy loops rotated around him, like the electronic orbits of an atom, and every step left behind a scattering of tiny black stars.

"What the..." Theodore even raised his hand, preparing to defend himself.

"What have they done to him?.."

Both approached almost simultaneously.

Harold landed softly, confidently. Enzo—abruptly, with a burst of dust.

Theodore immediately took a stance.

He didn't trust them. And there were too many reasons.

But Harold raised his palms:

"Easy. We are not enemies. Not now."

Enzo added, gritting his teeth:

"And I wouldn't have come myself... But Ivan is here alone. I didn't want him left alone with you," he threw glances at both Theo and Harold.

Theodore didn't lower his arms.

"Oh yeah?" he chuckled hoarsely.

"And aren't you afraid? What if I tear you apart first?"

Harold snorted, unimpressed.

"Believe me, we wouldn't have approached if we wanted to fight."

They explained the situation.

The Titan. The Rifts. The Tournament.

And that they... needed cooperation.

Theodore listened—and the more he listened, the more coldness accumulated in his chest.

"Cooperate? With you?" The voice was a screech, like broken metal.

"You destroyed my life. Lucy died because of your damn machinations. My park, "Golden Apple," was found guilty. Me—a monster. The whole city turned away. Then Diane..." His voice broke.

"You faked her death. A car accident? Obviously."

He looked at Enzo:

"And also... you and your friends took Aaron away from me."

Enzo said grimly:

"Oh, don't worry. I can't stand them either. They nearly killed us a couple of times. And I can't stand you, mustache psycho."

Theodore wanted to reply, but suddenly a flash flickered behind Harold and Enzo.

And the next moment, a man stood behind them.

Tall. Calm. Too calm.

Theodore froze.

"...Franklin?" he barely managed to utter.

His older brother.

The one he buried.

The one who disappeared into the abyss many years ago.

The one whose death changed his life.

And now—standing before him as if nothing had happened.

His voice broke almost into a scream:

"You... you're alive?! And you're... the leader of the cult?! You've been... watching... all this time? You made my life hell!"

Franklin looked at him calmly. Without a hint of guilt.

But something flickered in his eyes. Memory? Regret? Nothing could be understood.

"That's not important right now, Theo," his voice was heavy, like stone.

"What's more important is that if you want all of you to survive... you'll help us."

Theodore flared up.

"Help?! After everything—"

"It's a truce now," Franklin interrupted firmly.

"The Doom has awakened. Until it's defeated—we work together. And yes, cool your temper. Your emotional outburst won't help anyone. Aaron is fighting the Titan right now. If you want to increase his chances—control yourself."

At these words, Enzo raised an eyebrow.

"Wait."

He stepped closer, pointing a finger.

"You... you're the only one here who isn't a hologram. You're not trapped? You can leave whenever you want... right?"

Franklin's face didn't change.

"I have something important... here."

Silence. But Theodore noticed Enzo's eye twitch, as if he understood something.

"He doesn't want Nicky to die," the realization surfaced on its own.

Enzo let out a heavy sigh, looking away somewhere.

"So that's what it is..." he muttered.

"When did my friend become something like... the son of our enemy's leader? Oh, right. When that leader brainwashed him."

He quietly snorted.

"And it looks like you really got attached to him... Nocky... Nicky... whatever."

He waved his hand.

"Fine. I don't care. The main thing is that he survives."

Franklin looked away for the first time.

Harold was the first to take control of the situation.

He swept his hand—an electric streak seemed to run through the air, and technokinesis went to work. The spheres around began to tremble, their structure rearranging, as if an invisible engineer were assembling them.

"Reconfiguring the locking nodes..." he muttered in the almost satisfied tone of a mad scientist.

"Just like the good old traps in the catacombs..."

A flash.

Tavish's sphere disappeared first. A second later—Abanante.

Both Crowfaces fell to the ground, but immediately rose... and simultaneously dropped to one knee, bowing their heads.

"Master Franklin," they said almost in unison.

Enzo rolled his eyes so hard that the echo of it could almost be heard.

"Great. Just perfect." He threw his hands up.

"I'm standing alone in the middle of: the enemy's leader... enemies... and the enemy of enemies, who is also my enemy."

"Super. Just super."

Theodore quietly chuckled.

Harold, meanwhile, nodded toward the two remaining spheres.

"Master," he asked.

"...should I free Nicholas and Adelle?"

But Franklin didn't even have time to inhale for an answer.

Because Nicholas's sphere flashed.

Click.

A bolt of lightning, like a blade, cut the cage's structure.

The construct short-circuited—and broke.

The Hooded Man stepped out without saying a word.

The shadow at his feet trembled... and he simply vanished into it, as if falling into the abyss.

No trace remained.

Enzo raised his hands:

"Well, of course. Just leaves. Where to? Hell if I know. Awesome."

Adelle's sphere cracked on its own.

The curved symbols on its surface flashed—and the witch stepped out, as if she had simply opened a door.

She glanced at the sons—one alive, the other a hologram—and her face became icy.

"I work alone," she said calmly, almost dispassionately. The words—like knives.

"And, Theodore..." She held his gaze.

"I am still disappointed by the path you chose. Technology... a pathetic substitute for true power."

And, tracing a sign with runes in the air, she flew away, leaving a trail of black-silver magic behind her.

Silence hung.

Heavy. Viscous. Absolutely suffocating.

Enzo looked around: at Franklin. At Abanante. At Tavish. At Harold. At Theodore.

"I... definitely..." He paused, taking a deep breath.

"...definitely should have gone with Nicky, Maritza, Finch, and Aaron."

He closed his eyes.

"Aaron vs. Michael."

The ruined city trembled from their clash. Aaron Peterson and Michael stood opposite each other, like two colliding hurricanes, their eyes boring into their opponent, waiting for the first move.

Michael made the first lunge. His jet boots flared with fire, and he slid across the debris with incredible speed, heading straight for Aaron.

"Well then..." Aaron muttered, activating his Sharingan with the third tomoe. He tilted his head slightly to the side, dodging the blow. "Let's try this."

Following this, Aaron counterattacked: his fist flared with fire, shooting right into Michael's chest.

Michael barely had time to react: his body flashed red, and he instantly transformed into something new.

"Doom Morph."

He became a sphere, dark and twisted, as if magma was gaining flesh. Red patterns glowed from within, like vessels, and tentacles stretched from his body - holographic but alive, almost flesh, eleven of them, writhing like a nightmare.

Aaron's eyes widened, and he instantly activated Chidori. The tentacles rushed at him, but Aaron sliced several of them with one blow, cutting them with electrical energy.

"Damn... not all of them!" Aaron exhaled, as four tentacles with a dull crunch grabbed his arms and legs.

He was flying from one ruined building to another, like a ball thrown by the giant hands of a monster. The tentacles squeezed him with force, trying to tear him apart, and the city around them turned into chaos: debris fell, sparks flew, and the air was filled with the smell of burnt metal.

Up in the cages:

"He's doing the same thing he did to Nicky," Maritza noticed, watching the fight. She mostly tolerated Aaron, especially after the news that he had killed Mya, but based on Nicky's words, in another world, Mya had said she didn't hold a grudge against her brother. She wasn't sure if Roth was telling the truth, but almost all doubts were broken by one thing - Nicky is a bad liar.

"Why doesn't Aaron activate his... new eye level?" Finch asked.

"Every use is accompanied by pain and blindness," Ivan replied.

Torre crossed his arms over his chest; his attempts to reach out to Michael had failed, but he would continue to try. Although when it came to whom he supported, he would choose Aaron without hesitation.

Below:

"I have to find a way to break free..." Aaron muttered through clenched teeth, analyzing the movement of the tentacles. His Sharingan blinked, calculating trajectories, predicting Michael's next trap.

Michael's every move was fast and sharp: the tentacles writhed, changed angles, and tried to trap Aaron from several sides at once. Aaron, despite being airborne, was focused: one hand was ready to release Chidori, his feet jumped from one piece of debris to another, and his head rotated to avoid being hit.

"You're too smart... but that won't save you, Aaron!" Michael roared, his voice sounding like molten magma mixed with a mechanical hum.

Aaron, in response, smiled through his teeth:

"I'm not going to give up. Not today."

At that very moment, he sharply jerked his Chidori to the left, slicing one tentacle, and then slid along the wall of a ruined building, using a piece of debris as a springboard to break free from the grip of the other tentacles.

Peterson broke free from the tentacles' grip, instantly picking up speed, and launched a huge fireball directly at Michael. The fiery energy hissed as it hit him, burning the surface of his body and scattering sparks.

Michael screeched; his roar turned into a booming sound of pain and anger. He instantly returned to his normal state, breathing heavily, but not losing his aggression.

"You're still too arrogant!" he roared, his eyes flashing.

And then he activated "Chaos Boost."

A dense aura of red energy coiled around his body. At first, it pulsed slightly, like a breath, but within a second, it condensed, enveloping every cell. Michael's eyes glowed with a crimson light, the veins on his neck and arms protruded and began to glow, as if molten magma was boiling inside.

Above:

"It's started," Trinity muttered.

"Tell me about it," Delroy agreed.

Adelle just watched the fight between her child's creation and her child's son. She always preferred magic, but Theo clearly leaned more towards science.

Theodore frowned. This fight would show if Michael could fulfill his goal.

Below:

"It's time to really show my strength!" Michael roared and made a sharp lunge.

He grabbed Aaron by the face and with furious power slammed him into the walls of the ruined buildings. With each blow, bricks cracked, clouds of dust flew in all directions, and metal and concrete crumbled under their weight.

Aaron didn't lose his composure. Clenching his teeth, he took a deep breath and spewed flame from his lungs directly into Michael's hand. The fiery stream burned the opponent's flesh, and Michael screamed, letting go of his grip. Aaron immediately used a powerful fiery kick, pushing him back.

"Do you think that will stop me?" Michael roared, as his boots reacted, slowing his flight, and he lunged forward again.

Aaron managed to notice that his opponent was not going to give up, and activated the second level of his cursed seal.

Instantly, his body changed: his skin turned light brown, his hair grew and turned dark blue, and the sclera of his eyes turned black. Huge wings, resembling clawed paws, extended from his back, and a cross-shaped mark glowed above the bridge of his nose.

Aaron soared into the air; his movements became incredibly fast, as if he himself were a fiery storm. He focused and directed a lightning bolt towards Michael—a bright ball of energy burst from his hands and rushed straight at his enemy.

"Block it if you can!" Aaron shouted.

Michael reacted instantly: two huge shields flared up on his palms, black and red with streaks of bright magma inside. They hummed and radiated heat, reflecting Aaron's lightning. Sparks flew in all directions, and the air trembled with energy, as if the planet itself was protesting against their power.

"Ha! Too slow!" Michael grumbled, the shields not losing control, and he rushed at Aaron with renewed fury.

Aaron dodged Michael's swift attack; his Sharingan worked perfectly—predicting the opponent's movement, he slightly tilted his head to the side and rushed past, almost grazing the debris of a ruined building.

"You're still too predictable!" Michael roared, his eyes burning with red chaos.

A moment later, yellow spears flared up in Michael's hands—a swarm of chaos-energy, shaped like sharp peaks. Each spear shimmered with light, as if it were alive, and rushed towards Aaron, filling the space over the city ruins with deadly lines of energy.

Aaron flew higher; his wings spread, and his body crackled with a purple light from the cursed seal. He maneuvered in the air, dodging the spears with almost unreal speed. Every movement was precisely calculated, and the lightning bolts from his fingers left sparkling trails behind him.

"Try to catch me!" he shouted, and simultaneously fired volleys of lightning.

Each lightning bolt hit a chaos-spear, causing explosions that tore the air, throwing building debris to the sides. Fire and electricity mixed in a fiery-sparkling storm, tearing apart the space around them.

Michael hummed, his eyes narrowed:

"You're lucky, but that's not enough to stop me!"

He activated a new boost, and the yellow chaos-spears suddenly began to change trajectory, as if they could feel Aaron's fear and confidence. But the boy didn't lose his composure—each maneuver was accompanied by a flash of lightning; each flash tore the spears to pieces, leaving behind smoke and sparks.

"I won't give up that easily!" Aaron shouted, hovering among the ruins, his wings cutting the air, and each flap creating a scorching stream of energy, ready for the next attack.

Michael accelerated; the swarm of spears became denser, and the fiery trails from Aaron's movements illuminated the entire ruined city, turning the fight into a vortex of chaos and lightning.

Above:

"I've seen this somewhere before..." Tavish said.

"He attacked the troublesome boy in an identical way," Abanante nodded to her colleague, for which she received a glare from Trinity.

"DON'T you dare call Nicky that!" the girl growled, grabbing the bars.

The middle school principal smiled mockingly, putting a hand to her mouth, "holding back" a snicker.

"Such lovely fury, a student of my school. But didn't your parents tell you that you should show respect to adults?" she brought up a painful topic.

Bales clenched her teeth, tightening her grip; a red aura covered her.

"Don't you dare bring them into this! You messed with their heads, saying I was so terrible and should be sent to a boarding school. But you know what? Now they know everything, including who you are, Valeria Abanante, a member of the Forest Protectors. The one who blew up our house!"

Abanante's eyes narrowed, clearly disturbed by such an outburst, and she fell silent.

"IVAN!" Trinity addressed the inventor.

The genius boy looked up, clearly not understanding what had happened.

"In your fight against her... don't hold back. Make her suffer!" The group leader angrily commanded rather than asked.

"Hot..." a blushing Maritza muttered to herself.

Delroy was speechless, and Finch mostly didn't care.

"Hey. I'd already give it to her. She dared to suspend me from school! Me! A straight-A student! And she framed me! My wonderful report card is ruined!" Ivan shouted, which caused the others to stare.

Abanante fell completely silent. She knew that Torre cared about his studies, but to this extent?

"Don't be surprised. He thought Mr. Murtaugh was a member of your cult just because he gave him a B+." Delroy yawned.

"Seriously? That was the reason?" Finch rolled her eyes, in a... childish way.

Ivan immediately lowered his head in embarrassment.

Below:

Michael roars, his eyes glowing with crimson energy, his body tensing in a powerful lunge, closing the distance between them with incredible speed. He activates "Chaos Nightmare." The space around his fists begins to distort: pulsating purple and purple spheres appear, repelling everything nearby.

Aaron barely has time to react—he's thrown back, but he quickly reorients himself in flight, his wings spread, his purple aura flaring brighter.

"This is for Nicky!" he shouts, his eyes flashing with the Mangekyō Sharingan.

The black flames of Amaterasu burst from Aaron's eyes, rushing straight at Michael. They burn through the air and the ground, leaving a smoking trail behind them.

But Michael was already ready. He snaps his fingers and activates "Chaos Magic," creating a spatial rift in front of him—a purple and white vortex that warps reality. Amaterasu hits the rift and dissipates, not leaving a scratch on Michael.

Aaron sharply grabs his left eye, from which the flames came, feeling a sharp pain. Blood streams down his face, and his vision begins to blur.

Above:

"Damn! He countered Amaterasu!" Maritza shouted.

"I'd be more worried about Aaron's condition... his eyes look bad," Trinity replied.

'Why is she so worried about him? She knows him less than any of us...' Finch thought.

Below:

"Damn it..." he exhaled, gritting his teeth, struggling to keep his balance.

Michael doesn't miss the moment. He activates "Chaos Snap." The space around him distorts, and in a fraction of a second, he teleports behind Aaron.

"You shouldn't have underestimated me!" Michael hisses.

He delivers a powerful kick, imbued with chaos energy. Aaron's purple aura flares in a bright flash, but the collision with the chaos-kick still throws him down. The ground beneath him explodes from the force of the impact; debris and dust fly into the air.

Aaron lies in the crater, blood flowing down his face, and his wings twitching in pain, but his eyes still burn with determination. He struggles to get to his knees, trying to focus.

"You... won't get through..." he exhales through his teeth, his fingers clenched into fists, his aura starting to flare again, signaling his readiness for the next attack.

Michael slowly turns to him, the red energy pulsing around his body, and the tentacles of chaos vibrating slightly in the air.

"Try... if you can," he grumbled, and the swarm of chaos-spears rustled in the space again.

The chaos-spears rushed at Aaron, but their path was blocked by a Susanoo—even if it was only a skeleton. A huge purple construct instantly flared around him, blocking the attack and cutting the energy of the spears into pieces.

In the cages:

"WAHOO! That's it! Come on!" Trinity cheered on Peterson.

"Okay, either Nicky asked her to act this way, or... no, she's in love with Nicky. Or maybe..." Delroy continued the rest of his love polygon theory only in his head.

'So... Finch, Trinity, Maritza, and Aaron love Nicky, that's for sure. Nicky loves Mya, but she's dead, and it seems he's trying to get over her. Maritza called Trinity's actions hot... and Trinity is actively supporting Aaron, and Aaron blushed next to her... what the hell is going on?!' Schmidt's thoughts reached a dead end.

In the city:

"Damn it... it's working!" Aaron muttered, barely managing to keep his balance in the air.

Michael roars, his red aura pulsating, and his body vibrating from tension. He rushes into close combat; a fist, imbued with chaos energy, flies at Aaron with incredible speed. The contact with the Susanoo skeleton only causes a weak vibration—the crack on the protective structure is barely noticeable.

"Now it's my turn!" Aaron shouted. His hand clenches the Susanoo's saber, and he delivers a powerful blow, aiming the blade directly at Michael.

But Michael reacts quickly. Two shields materialize on his palms—like clots of molten metal, black and red with streaks of red light. The shields hum, radiating heat, and take the blow from the saber.

"Ha!" Michael roars, feeling the resistance, but holding his position. "Is that all you've got?"

The force of the collision throws the Nicky clone to the side, and he falls among the debris of the building. Dust billows in the air, hiding the figures of the fighters for a few moments.

When the dust settles, Aaron carefully assesses the situation. Michael is holding his wounded hand; his breathing is rapid, and his movements are slightly constricted by pain.

"So even you have a limit," Aaron says quietly, clenching his fists. The purple Susanoo aura pulsates slightly around him, demonstrating its readiness for the next attack.

Michael roars, the red energy around him flashing even brighter, as if he is about to launch a new swarm of chaos-strikes.

"You think this is the end?" he hisses, clenching his fist. "No, Aaron. I haven't shown you everything I can do yet."

Aaron clenches the saber, his gaze focused, and he prepares for a decisive maneuver. The aura around him wavers, heralding a new surge of energy.

Michael suddenly stops for a moment, as if deciding to buy time, and begins to smile mockingly:

"Ah, Aaron... you think that everything you've done makes you a good person?" His voice is sharp, biting. "You killed your younger sister, hit your best friend, your love, in the head with a crowbar, helped the Wolf, wounded Enzo, and pierced your friend with your Chidori... and now you consider yourself a good person?"

He knew Aaron's problems. He had all of Nicky's memories (although in his opinion, it was Nicky who had his memories).

Above:

"Don't listen to him! He's just trying to distract you!" Trinity shouts.

"Ignore him! Hit him!" Maritza commands.

'Is it weird that his non-friends support him better than his own father?' Finch thought.

She glanced at Theodore, who was sitting with a stony face. Who knows what's going on in that guy's head.

"Hey, Ivan. Operation 'Rat'," she shouts to Torre.

Ivan, hearing the name, understands everything.

'What's up?' Ivan telepathically connects with her.

'Read what's in the psycho's head,' Allen asks.

'Okay.'

Finch waits for a couple of seconds, and Ivan finally gives an answer:

'It's a total mess. Michael is really just a tool to get Aaron back! Mr. Peterson thinks this is just a test of whether Michael can bring Aaron to him by force!' A full-of-worry scream (it's strange that you can scream telepathically...) of Ivan's echoes in Finch's head.

'Got it... thanks, buddy.'

Below:

To Michael's surprise, the words do not cause Aaron's usual rage or fear. Instead, Peterson's eyes narrow, and his breathing becomes even.

"A bad person?" Aaron asks quietly, almost in a whisper. Then he answers himself, looking directly at Michael: "That's someone who rejoices in another's pain. I... don't. Every night I regret what I've done. Every single one."

Michael snorts, trying to anger him:

"Ha! So who's the bad person here, huh?" and his eyes narrow into a malicious smirk.

"You," Aaron blurts out, his voice firm, full of hatred. "Doom. Clone. Tool."

With these words, his Susanoo, still a skeleton, instantly transforms into a humanoid form. Its body takes on human contours, but still made of energy, and its eyes glow with a cold light. A bow is formed on its left arm, into which the Susanoo's energy is woven; it can serve as both a weapon and a shield. A sphere appears in its right hand, from which arrows are created, instantly soaring into the air and ready to be fired.

"The time has come..." Aaron says quietly, focused on drawing the bow. His right hand releases the first arrow with incredible speed.

Michael, noticing the shot, his eyes widen. In horror, he instantly discards the inhibitor rings from his arms and legs. The chaos boost disappears—he is unable to maintain both boosts at the same time.

A yellow aura flashes around him as he desperately tries to dodge. The arrow flies true to its target, and Michael only barely dodges to the side, feeling the cool whistle of its passage.

The impact of the arrow on the building is devastating. The colossal energy tears through the walls, collapsing several floors. The people in the cages on the upper floors cover their faces, feeling the full force of the impact, as if the air around them is exploding.

"I didn't think you'd react so fast..." Michael exhales, but the tension in his voice betrays his fear.

Aaron, standing in the air, observes the result of his strike. His cyan aura wavers slightly, and the Susanoo, as if alive, prepares the next arrow, its eyes glowing with determination.

Michael takes a step back, clenching his hands. He understands that he cannot attack and defend at the same time—now it is Aaron who holds the initiative.

He suddenly changes tactics. He begins to rapidly circle around Aaron, using his main advantage—speed and agility. His jet boots hiss from overheating, and every turn, every lunge creates air vortices around him.

"Did you think that just standing and fighting was enough?" Michael shouts mockingly, flying past Aaron. "I move faster than you think!"

"Sh*t! But I move faster than you and Nicky combined! And I'm not even bragging!" Maritza's shout echoes from above.

"Actually, you are-"

"Shut up, Ivan!"

"Hey! Don't yell at him!" Delroy growls.

Aaron reacts instantly, activating his Susanoo and Sharingan. The energy of the giant humanoid skeleton moves not so much physically as if mentally obeying Aaron. The bow on the left arm instantly aims arrows at every possible path of Michael, predicting his movement in fractions of a second.

"I know your speed, Michael," Aaron says coldly, "...but your tricks are meaningless if you don't consider the consequences."

Michael sharply soars upward, doing a spinning jump, and tries to hit Aaron from the air. But the Susanoo reacts instantly: the bow and arrows move in sync, blocking the space in front of Aaron, and the Sharingan predicts the enemy's direction of movement.

"You're in too much of a hurry," Aaron says, clenching the bow. "Without the inhibitor rings, you won't last long."

Ivan noticed this and remembered it.

"Ha!" Michael sneers. "And what about you? You're going blind with every moment; Susanoo is draining all your energy; every cell of your body is burning!"

Aaron clenches his teeth. His head is pounding with pain, his eyes are starting to go blind, and every cell in his body burns from the concentration of Susanoo's energy. But despite this, he continues to hold his position; his arrows and bow continue to fly after Michael's every move, creating a barrier that is almost impossible to break through.

"I can't make a mistake," Aaron says to himself, gritting his teeth. "I can't lose... I have to get revenge for Nicky... and I can't give up."

Michael circles faster and faster, but he already feels that his energy without the inhibitors is disappearing too quickly, and his muscles are starting to tremble. Every jump is getting harder. His strikes are becoming less accurate, his movements slightly less sharp.

Aaron, on the other hand, feels the pain intensifying with every second: Susanoo, the arrows, the Sharingan—all of this is taking his strength, and he realizes that sooner or later, fatigue will take its toll.

"Too slow..." Aaron thinks. "...but I have to keep up the pace."

He fires several arrows at once from his primary hand, while simultaneously drawing the bow with his secondary hand, creating a crossfire. Michael flies through the fire, trying to dodge, but already a little slower than before.

"Damn it..." Michael exhales, realizing that he can't win a long-distance race. "I have to change something..."

Their fight turns into a dangerous dance: speed against spatial control, stamina against agility. Every step could be the last; every second takes away energy, but neither is ready to retreat.

Above:

"This is an endurance fight..." Adelle murmurs.

"And if Michael's stamina is about the same as Nicky's, then he's in trouble," Delroy smirks.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Finch, Trinity, and Maritza give him a look.

Schmidt was slightly scared for a second, but he finished his thought:

"Well... I know you're crazy about that weirdo, but before he got the stone, he would get tired after a couple of minutes of running. After he got it, he got exactly the same boost in stamina as we did. Only Ivan's is worse, no offense or anything," Delroy explains, and gives Ivan a guilty look.

"No offense?" Ivan smiles. His intelligence allowed him to accept sane "insults."

"...I'll have to improve that," Maritza murmurs.

A couple of football sessions, or jogging with her, and Roth will be as good as new... a bit dry first, of course.

Below:

Michael again activated "Doom Wings." Black, fleshy wings with red patterns grew from his back with a roar. He hovered in the air, swaying slightly, like a demon ready to hunt.

Aaron lunged at him, but the opponent noticed a moment of vulnerability: Susanoo does not envelop the ground under his feet.

"Excellent, a weak spot," Michael roared, descending to hit Peterson with chaos-spears.

But Aaron was ready. The arrows from the Susanoo's bow instantly flashed, deflecting the swarm of chaos-spears. An explosion thundered; smoke billowed over the ruined city, and the sound of the impact echoed between the ruins.

"Ha!" Aaron heard and at the same time felt a sharp pain: a tentacle from Michael's body grabbed his leg, like a living iron grip.

Michael wasted no time: he activated "Doom Morph." At the same second, Aaron saw a sphere forming from the man: dark, twisted, pulsating. The surface—like boiling magma, red patterns glowed from within. Eleven tentacles, like living flesh wires, stretched outward, trying to grab everything around them.

"Damn!" Aaron exhaled, feeling himself being pulled from under the protection of the Susanoo.

Michael grunts in pain as Aaron instantly activated Chidori and pierced his chest.

"Ah!" Michael exclaimed; blood spurted, but he didn't give up. His chaos-spear flared, shooting out bright energy, at the moment when Aaron only had time to summon his Susanoo in the form of a skeleton.

"More power..." Aaron muttered through his teeth, feeling the energy of Michael's sphere pressing down on him.

The explosion spread dust and smoke across the entire block. The ruined walls shook, shards flew in all directions, and the air was filled with the smell of burnt magma and ozone.

In the sky:

"AARON!" The cry of many people echoed from above. (Trinity, Ivan, Delroy, Finch, Maritza, Theodore.)

'Michael!' Theodore worriedly thought, which Ivan read.

'So he does care...' Torre sighed with relief. Although he didn't know if that was good news.

On the ground:

After the devastating collision of the chaos-spears with the Susanoo, both fighters collapsed onto the asphalt like stones. Dust was still billowing around, and the city seemed to have frozen in silence.

Michael was breathing heavily, feeling pain in his chest, where he was pierced, and fiery burns on his body. Aaron, with blood flowing from his eyes and burns on his hands and face, struggled to get to his knees.

They slowly, almost crawling, moved toward each other, their eyes burning with fury and determination. Every blow was their last strength; every blow was a challenge to pain and fatigue.

"You... didn't give up..." Aaron roared, as his fist met Michael's face.

"Never..." Michael replied with difficulty, blocking the blow and hitting Aaron in the face again.

The wind whistled between the ruined buildings; dust settled on their faces as both fell to the ground, exhausted to the limit. They lay there for almost a minute, not moving, breathing heavily and interrupted by spasms of pain.

Above, in the cages, their loved ones and allies watched the fight. Trinity clenched her hands until her knuckles were white, Maritza's eyes were wide, Finch and Delroy were breathing heavily, and Ivan watched the events intently.

"Hang in there, Aaron! You can do it!" Trinity shouted, but anxiety hung in the air.

Aaron gathered the last of his strength and with difficulty got up, supported by the shouts of encouragement. But his body couldn't handle it—he collapsed unconscious, his eyes closed, and his body trembled.

Michael, unlike him, was able to get up. He held his side, where he felt a sharp pain, but he stood, looking at the defeated Aaron. His breathing was ragged; his face—distorted by pain, but his gaze—was firm.

"The winner is Michael," the Entity announced, its voice echoing through the ruined city like the echo of a triumph.

For a moment, everyone held their breath. Aaron suddenly turned pale, as if he was disappearing, and then his body transformed into a hologram. A red sphere-cage flashed around him, and a second later, he teleported away, leaving only a faint glow behind.

Silence hung for a few more moments before those around slowly began to realize the outcome of the fight. Michael stood in the middle of the ruined asphalt, bleeding and burned, but alive—and the winner of this deadly clash.

Michael's cage flashes, and he teleports back up, into his capsule.

Four inhibitor rings fall from the sky and automatically clip to his body. He sighs—and immediately slumps. His face is empty. Ashy. Almost guilty.

All of Peterson's loved ones glare at Michael. He took out Nicky first, and now Aaron, and without much mercy.

'What a jerk...' Finch frowned.

'I'll get him one way or another!' Maritza thought, already imagining how she would beat the nonsense out of him.

But then the Entity's voice:

"Second fight of the second phase. Trinity vs. Maritza."

Everyone, absolutely everyone, fell silent, only Nicholas made some kind of... ah?

Trinity and Maritza exchanged glances, clearly not wanting this.

'Oh, hell...' was their thought.

…

Nicky didn't know how long he had been sitting in that room...

He didn't know what was happening behind that door...

But he heard it. He heard the blows, the grunts, the explosions... and with every passing second, he felt the voice of The Thing in his head growing weaker.

He pressed himself against the wall, feeling a small knot of anxiety tightening in his chest.

But what was he worried about? Was he afraid that The Thing would prevail and he would be alone again? Or... was he worried about Franklin?

He shook his head. No, no, no! He couldn't—that is, he shouldn't—worry about the Raven Man. That man had brainwashed him, tortured him... Nicky didn't even want to think of him in a positive light.

Franklin was his enemy... an enemy who had saved him at least three times, who had shown genuine care, and who was right now fighting The Thing, or whatever that creature was.

Nicky flinched at a characteristic BOOM and the sound of wood splintering.

The situation was getting worse...

He swallowed. Okay... maybe Franklin had grown attached to him, but Nicky hadn't grown attached to him... he couldn't be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, could he?

Then came another crash, and... a sonic boom?

Nicky froze. This event seemed to tell him to stop overthinking the confusing situation between him and his enemy. Perhaps he should think about something else...

Yes, Franklin had told him to calm down, and thinking about... well, him, wasn't exactly doing that.

Nicky sighed, drawing air into his lungs and letting it out. The feeling of panic subsided slightly after he closed his eyes and tried to shift his thoughts elsewhere.

"Okay... maybe I should think about where I'll wake up?" Roth pondered.

He missed home. Even though he had only been gone for a day or two, spending all this time on the island as a hologram with robots trying to kill him? He didn't even want to remember it.

All he wanted was to go home, hug little Alicia, maybe go to the abandoned place with Aaron, but not this.

If, according to Franklin, he was being treated, he would probably be in a hospital, or Trinity was healing him with a spell on the island.

He whimpered as he felt a strange prick in his head; it suddenly began to ache.

His vision began to fade, the world seemed to slip away... and then... WHOOSH!

A violet light hit his eyes, blinding Nicky.

...

The violet light slowly faded.

Nicky blinked again—cautiously, as if afraid that if he opened his eyes too wide, everything would crumble back into darkness. But no. The sky remained in place: heavy clouds, ragged and low, like a ceiling hanging over the island. The wind pulled with dampness and salt.

He was here. In his body. Not in the basement. Not behind the door.

The pain didn't come at once—first, only weight. As if a stone had been placed on his chest, slowly pressing down, reminding him that his heart was still beating.

Hands. He felt hands on his chest.

Warm. Trembling.

Nicky forced his gaze downward. His body was still semi-transparent, as if carved from light and static—a hologram flickering in the wind. So... the island. That very space in-between. Not the city. Not home.

"...breathe... please..." someone whispered above him.

The voice was raspy, broken.

Trinity.

He couldn't see her face—only dark strands of hair leaning over him and the violet glow emanating from her palms. The magic flowed unevenly, in jolts, as if she were squeezing every spark out of herself.

"Trin..." he tried to say.

It only came out as a weak exhale.

She flinched.

"He's... he's here..." she sobbed, not lifting her head. "He's with us. Keep going... just a little more... please..."

Violet rings of energy trembled, disintegrated, and gathered again. "Soul Healing," but Boosted, strained, powered by pure stubbornness. She had clearly been past her limit for a long time.

"Indicators are stabilizing," a voice said from the side. Calm, low. "Murtaugh. His pulse is leveling out."

Nicky heard a characteristic metallic creak—Murtaugh was leaning on some device he had assembled himself. The white light of his energy slid over Nicky's body, cold but not hostile.

"He's back," Murtaugh added more quietly. "For real."

"I told you," another voice rang out. "I told you he wouldn't give up."

Quentin stood a little further away. His hands were clenched into fists, his shoulders tense, as if he were still ready to charge forward if something went wrong. He wasn't looking at Nicky—he was looking at the horizon, as if watching to see if another nightmare would crawl out of the clouds.

"Everything turned out okay," he said to Aaron. "Do you hear me? Everything."

Aaron stood closest of all.

Too close.

Nicky felt him before he saw him—a familiar tension in the air, a fine tingling, like the air before a lightning strike. Aaron was pale, his eyes bloodshot, but the Sharingan had faded. He looked at Nicky without blinking, as if afraid he would vanish if he looked away.

"You..." he began and cut himself off.

The words wouldn't come.

Nicky tried to smile. It came out crooked.

"See..." he rasped. "Still... a burden..."

Aaron exhaled sharply, almost angrily.

"Shut up," he said with a trembling voice. "Just... shut up."

Nearby, someone exhaled loudly—Delroy, standing a bit further off, turned away, pretending something had just gotten into his eye. But Nicky saw his shoulders shaking.

And only then did he notice him.

Franklin stood apart from everyone else.

He didn't approach. He didn't interfere. He didn't touch.

A tall figure, dark coat, shoulders slightly squared—as if he were still ready to spread his wings if necessary. He looked... tired. The limp was more noticeable. The dark energy around him was dimmed, like ash after a fire.

And he was looking at Nicky.

Not like a predator.

Like a man who had held his breath for too long—and only now allowed himself to exhale.

And in that moment... a whisper.

Thin. Slippery. Almost inaudible.

"You think this is the end? They're smiling now. And then they'll turn away again. He will too. Especially him."

Nicky flinched. A sharp pain stabbed his chest again.

"No," he whispered. "No... not now..."

Franklin snapped his head up. His eyes narrowed.

"It's here," he said aloud, and his voice turned colder. "But it is weak."

Trinity raised her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I... I feel the interference..." She grit her teeth. "Like noise... like a crack..."

"It's a residual trace," Franklin continued. "It cannot take control. Only whisper."

He took a step forward—one. The others tensed; Aaron instinctively stood between him and Nicky.

Franklin stopped.

"I won't come closer," he said calmly. "But he must hear this."

He looked directly at Nicky.

"You haven't lost your mind. These voices—they aren't the truth. They use your memories because they have no other weapon."

The whisper slithered stronger.

"He's lying. He was the first to break you."

Nicky squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fingers.

"I know," he exhaled. "I know..."

And suddenly—silence.

Not all at once. Not completely. But as if someone had removed the power source.

Nicky opened his eyes. Franklin had already looked away. Trinity cautiously removed her hands from Nicky's chest. The violet light faded, leaving behind warmth and weakness.

"You're with us," she said in a trembling voice. "You're here."

Nicky looked at everyone at once. At Trinity. At Aaron. At his parents. At his friends. At Franklin.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn't think about fear.

He thought about the fact that... they were still holding him.

Even if the darkness was near. Even if it whispered.

And somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, The Thing retreated—not defeated, but cornered.

For now.

Nicky struggled to catch his breath.

Every inhale resonated with pain in his chest, as if a fragment of that attack still remained inside. The world around him was blurry, as if his sight hadn't fully returned from the nightmare. He lay on the ground, feeling the damp grass under his palms and the faint vibration of the island's energy—his body still looked semi-transparent, holographic.

"...What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

Trinity immediately leaned closer. The violet glow around her hands slowly faded, but the tension in her shoulders didn't vanish.

"Franklin..." she swallowed. "He saved us. Nicholas tried to finish you off. Franklin threw him back—and they started fighting way over there, in the distance."

Nicky blinked slowly, processing what he heard.

"...Where is he?" he asked quietly. "That version of me... Nicholas."

Franklin, standing a bit further away, sighed heavily. His coat was torn, his breathing uneven, and in his eyes was a fatigue that had nothing to do with the physical.

"The collision of our attacks ruined the weather," he said dryly. "Apparently, he took advantage of the chaos. Vanished."

He paused.

"I've sent the Crowfaces. They are searching for him."

Nicky gave a weak nod. He felt the weight before he understood it. Warm, familiar hands rested on his neck and shoulders, cautious, as if he might crumble from one clumsy move.

"Nicky..." the voice trembled.

Jay and Luanne Roth hugged him from both sides. His father—tightly but carefully. His mother—clinging to him as if trying to protect him from the whole world at once.

Nicky struggled to smile. Pain shot through his chest, but he smiled anyway.

"I'm... fine," he lied.

And in that moment, a voice rang out.

"Seriously?"

Cold. Mocking. Identifiable enough to cause a shiver.

"...Nicholas."

Nicky's eyes flew open. His heart jerked. He tried to push himself up on his elbows, but a sharp pain made him groan.

"Don't move!" Luanne immediately held him down. "Please."

He heard Delroy bolt from his spot. A sharp lunge. A strike. The air tore from the force—and instead of Nicholas's body, a tree collapsed, snapping in half.

"Heh," Nicholas smirked. "Slow."

A sound that made everyone's stomach turn.

Click.

Mangekyou.

Aaron didn't say a word. His eye flared, and the black flames of Amaterasu surged forward, searing the air. But Nicholas had already moved aside—the flames hit the ground, leaving a scorched, smoking crater.

"You still don't understand," he drawled lazily. "Of all the possible people... you trusted Franklin."

"We don't trust him," Trinity snapped back. She glanced at Franklin, who just rolled his eyes. "But we don't believe you either. And all this talk of 'victory' is nonsense."

Nicholas chuckled. "Really?" He tilted his head. "Then why aren't you having fun right now, Trinity?"

He shifted his gaze to Nicky.

"Ah, right. He lost. And now he's lying there wounded."

"Enough!" Luanne broke. Her voice shook. "What happened to you? What made you... this? Where is my boy?"

Aaron immediately backed her up: "Nicky I know would never speak like that. Never."

Nicholas sighed tiredly. "I just changed. And he will change too. I stopped keeping in touch with all of you somewhere around... eighteen. Maybe earlier with friends."

At that moment, Murtaugh couldn't take it. A beam of bright energy shot from his hand—blindingly white—but Nicholas dodged again, as if he knew in advance. Quentin lunged after him. A steel fist cut through the air, but in response—only a shadow.

Nicholas dissolved. Silence fell over the clearing.

He had escaped. Not defeated. Not cornered. He just left—leaving behind cold, doubt, and a fear that wouldn't dissipate for a long time.

For a few seconds, no one spoke. Franklin was the first to exhale.

"...He always leaves like that," he said quietly. "When he thinks he's said enough."

Trinity grit her teeth. The violet energy around her hands dissipated. "Nicholas said nothing. Except that he doesn't care."

Aaron looked where Nicholas had stood. His Mangekyou faded; a thin trail of blood ran down his cheek. He didn't even wipe it.

"No," he answered hoarsely. "He said what matters most to him. Power decides everything."

Delroy angrily kicked a fragment of the tree. "Then he's an idiot. If power decided everything, he wouldn't run away."

Murtaugh sighed loudly. "I wouldn't be so sure, Delroy. He was clearly wounded after the fight with Franklin. He realized it was better to retreat."

Quentin rubbed his red cap, approaching the group. "I have to agree with Murtaugh. Though we weren't in the best shape either..." He cast a worried look at Aaron, Trinity, and Nicky.

Franklin fell silent. He barely stood, but he felt no resentment that they ignored him. In their situation, he would have done the same.

Quentin walked up to Aaron. "Don't hide it," he said, seeing Aaron trying to wipe the blood from his face. Aaron looked up and saw Quentin's kind smile.

"...Okay," Aaron replied.

Delroy watched the scene and shook his head. Did he feel a bit lonely? Honestly, yes. He missed Ivan.

"...I miss Ivan," Schmidt thought.

He remembered everything—the tournament, the super powers from the stones, the Crowfaces cult, the dimensions. He was surprised it was all real. He especially missed Ivan... his cheeks turned red thinking about Torre. He knew their feelings were mutual after their fight at the tournament, but he worried. Ivan was in the final against Michael, and Delroy knew the chances of winning were small.

"You look deep in thought," a hand touched his shoulder. Murtaugh.

"None of your business," Delroy huffed.

Murtaugh smirked, adjusting his hair. Delroy sweated a bit... Murtaugh was creepy, even if he was a good guy in the end.

"Just felt you were lonely," the teacher said.

Delroy froze. Did he know? Murtaugh was dating Ivan's mom, so he might know about them. Was he against it? Murtaugh was probably 40 or 50; he grew up with old-fashioned values.

"Don't worry, I'm not against it," Murtaugh said. "If Ivan is happy, that's all I need."

Delroy coughed, his face burning. "I... I'll keep that in mind. Though... as if I'd ever make that nerd unhappy."

Further away, Trinity approached Aaron. "Hey. How are you?"

Aaron shrugged. "Alive. That's an achievement."

The awkwardness hung heavy. They had different feelings for Nicky, and neither could just switch them off.

"Listen..." Trinity said. "Everything is... getting better. Really. There's only one emerald left. The third squad will bring it—and that's it. We're almost at the finish line."

Aaron closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Mangekyou... it's not a gift."

"I'll try to think of something," Trinity said firmly. "A spell. A ritual. To stop the blindness... or maybe help you awaken the Eternal Mangekyou."

Aaron looked at her, surprised. "Thank you. Really." He looked over at Nicky, who was lying with his parents.

"I worry about him too," Trinity admitted.

Their eyes met. Aaron's cheeks reddened slightly. "Yes... in this, we are one."

Quentin, standing nearby, blinked. He looked from Aaron to Trinity.

"Wait. Hold on."

He cleared his throat. "Not just gay... Bisexual, then..." he muttered to himself. "I'll have to... set up a meeting with Beatrix. She was asking about you."

Aaron groaned. "Dad... please. Not now."

Suddenly, a sound. Not a voice, but running. Fast, sharp, tearing the air.

Maritza burst over the hill first, a trail of fire behind her. She was carrying Finch, who was conscious but clearly shaken. Enzo followed, flipping through the air with his Ultra Form energy loops trailing black stars.

"Oh my..." he exhaled, seeing Nicky.

"Don't approach too fast," Trinity warned. "He's on overload."

Then the sky tore open.

The Crowfaces flew in from the cyber-space. Abanante was first, her dark energy flowing. Behind her were Tavish, Harold, Otto, Gerda, Leslie, and Dale. Gordon appeared last.

"Well, of course... the whole family is here," he muttered.

From the other side, Theodore Peterson appeared. Nicky flinched. Trinity shielded him. Jay and Luanne stood ready, making the characteristic Crowface caw.

Aaron stared at his father. Quentin stepped between them.

The Crowfaces knelt before Franklin.

"The Emerald," Abanante said.

Harold and Tavish stepped forward. A blue Chaos Emerald flared between them. Franklin took it.

Trinity smirked. "You think you're the only one?"

She stood up—and one by one, the stones appeared in the air. Violet. Red. Yellow. White. Pink. Turquoise. Orange.

Leslie raised a hand. A cyan emerald flared in sync. Murtaugh stepped forward last with his green stone.

"Ten," he said.

The dimension screamed. The ground shook. Lines of code tore through the air like cracks in glass.

"We're breaking it," Enzo looked up.

"Logical," Harold smirked. "The Titans are destroyed. The core is taken. The cyber-dimension couldn't hold."

The space began to fold.

"Hold on!" Maritza cried. "It's going to eject us!"

Enzo lunged at Delroy, hugging him tight. "What the— hey! Get off!" Delroy protested.

Trinity gripped Nicky. "Don't you dare vanish. I'm not letting you go."

The light flared. They were all yanked—up, sideways, out.

Toward reality.

...

The city was dead.

Broken, warped, as if someone had ripped the very concept of order out of it and tossed it back without a care for its shape. The sky hung low, heavy and leaden. The wind tore at the remains of signboards, and somewhere in the distance, a dull rumble echoed—as if the dimension itself was bursting at the seams.

Ivan stood in the middle of the street, his fingers clenched into fists.

He didn’t know why this was happening. He didn’t even know what, exactly, was going on. To him, it was just... a dimension. Strange. Dangerous. And now—unstable. As if it no longer wished to exist.

"Damn it..." he whispered, looking around.

The air was cold and damp, saturated with the feeling of the end. Not an apocalypse—but specifically the end of a game. Like when the board is cleared without asking the pieces.

And yet... he had won.

The realization didn't hit him all at once; it came as a delayed, heavy wave.

“I won.”

Not Nicky. Not Trinity. Not Aaron. Not Michael.

Him. Ivan Torre.

A fifteen-year-old kid who preferred sitting at a workbench to fighting.

"This is ridiculous..." he breathed out, a nervous smirk tugging at his lips. "Absolutely ridiculous."

At that moment, the voice returned.

"Hurry, winner."

It sounded... neither from behind nor in front. It wasn't in his head, yet it was exactly there. Ivan flinched, instinctively activating his telepathy, trying to grasp the source.

Nothing.

“I can’t even see you,” he thought with irritation. “Do you even exist, or are you just crawling into my brain?”

There was no answer. Only pressure—invisible and prodding.

Three wishes.

If the entity told the truth... then he had to act. Ivan took a ragged breath.

"Alright..." he said aloud, as if giving the words weight. "Alright. I’ve decided."

Alicia flashed before his eyes.

Small. Too small for all of this. And too... strange for the normal world. He remembered the words of Mr. and Mrs. Roth—about how she would age faster. Until she was six. And then what?

Bureaucracy. Documents. School. Suspicion.

"My first wish," Ivan spoke clearly, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "Let all documents, dates, and official records for Alicia Roth automatically change to match her real age."

He paused.

"And when she turns six, let her receive official documents regarding her school enrollment."

The sky shivered. The voice answered almost immediately—and there was a distinct trace of... disappointment in it.

"Wish accepted. Granted."

Ivan frowned. “You don’t like it,” he noted to himself. “Good.”

He exhaled and immediately moved to the next thought.

Michael. Michael Peterson. A clone. A tool. A "nobody" on paper. Even if he joined their side—who would he be? A ghost? A vagrant without a past or a future?

Ivan grit his teeth.

"Second wish," he said more confidently. "Let Michael Peterson become Michael Roth on paper."

The voice was silent, and the silence was heavy.

"He must be listed as an official member of the Roth family. Let him have birth records. A proof of existence. Let it show that he finished primary school and is now studying in the same class as me in middle school."

He added more quietly:

"We’re fifteen. Eighth grade."

This time, the answer was emotionless.

"Wish granted."

Ivan nodded, feeling a strange mixture of relief and anxiety. "Nicky is going to kill me for this..." he muttered. "But he’ll live."

And finally. The last one. The most important.

He looked at the decaying city. At the cracks in the sky. At the way reality seemed to be shedding pixels.

"My third wish," Ivan’s voice became quieter, but firmer. "Let all participants of the Starfall Tournament be freed and returned to the real world."

He swallowed.

"And let all the injuries they sustained... be restored. Even their clothes."

The world froze.

"So be it," the entity spoke.

And then... the voice broke.

It was no longer one—it was a multitude. Dozens, hundreds of voices layered over each other, repeating the same words, echoing as if in an infinite hall.

"So be it... if you live long enough to see it."

Ivan froze. "Wh... what?"

The sky tore open. Out of nowhere, a sphere appeared.

It was enormous—like a planet or an artificial sun. Dark energy swirled across its surface, but this wasn't the darkness of Franklin or the cult. This... was deeper. Purer. Ancient.

"So that’s you?.." Ivan whispered.

The sphere didn't answer. It simply soared upward—piercing the clouds and the atmosphere, disappearing into the heights.

And in that same instant, Ivan felt a jolt. Reality shattered completely. He was pulled upward, sideways, outward—his body became weightless, his thoughts blurred.

"Wait..." he gasped. "What did you mean?.."

There was no answer. Only light.

And the question that wouldn't let go:

After the shocking discovery that the Hooded Man was an adult Nicholas Roth, a silence hung over the arena, broken only by a tense stillness. Then, the voice of the Entity echoed through the city again, announcing the next fight.

"The next fight. Adelle Peterson vs. Kornwell."

The heroes and Crowfaces on their platforms exchanged glances. Kornwell, with his eternally relaxed face, slowly teleported into the arena, stepping out to meet the Witch, whose face was hidden under a wide hood.

The fight began not with a scream, but with silence. The tension was so great, it felt as if the air itself would crack. And it did.

The Witch waved her hand. A cloud of poison-violet energy erupted from under her cloak, like a snake lunging forward. The spell struck the ground, which began to crumble as if it had rotted in a second.

Kornwell reacted instantly. He transformed into smoke, dodging the attack, and reformed in a different location. The Witch merely smirked, her voice echoing around the area like a whisper of the wind:

"You are too slow. I can feel your every step."

Kornwell shifted into his second form, his body stretching, his arms extending to his knees, and his legs becoming bird-like. He soared into the air, dodging another magical thorn that the Witch threw after him. Kornwell responded to the attack, unleashing a stream of dark energy.

But the Witch disappeared into the shadows. She reappeared directly behind Kornwell, and he felt something thin and sharp pierce his hand, which had just deflected the attack. He screamed, falling to the ground.

The Witch didn't give him a chance to recover. She summoned a black storm that began to devour everything in its path. Kornwell turned into smoke, but the storm caught up with him, and he felt it tearing him apart from the inside. He struggled to regain his form and was immediately knocked down again.

"You're too predictable," Adelle said, stepping on him. "You can change your form, but you can't escape me."

Kornwell tried to turn into smoke, but the Witch wouldn't give him a chance. She threw spell after spell at him, forcing him to turn into smoke and then reform over and over.

Finally, Kornwell gave up. He fell to his knees, his body exhausted, and his strength gone. The Witch raised her hand, and a beam of violet energy shot from her palm, striking Kornwell in the chest, making him disappear.

"Winner, Adelle!" With these words from the Entity, Peterson was teleported to her cage in the sky.

On top:

Everyone's reaction was quiet. No one could believe that Kornwell, one of the most experienced Crowfaces, had been so easily defeated. Only Nicholas (I will call adult Nicky/Hooded Man that) and Theodore maintained their indifferent faces.

"... You're quite calm," Theodore remarked, but Nicholas ignored him once again.

Trinity noticed the mustachioed man's attempts to talk to... essentially her love. She wasn't sure if he could be called that.

Her Nicky was somewhere unknown. But this one was a silent bastard who barely even looked at anyone.

The voice of the Entity, now familiar, announced the next pair.

"Next fight. Marvin Tavish vs. Harold Serena."

The two Crowfaces teleported into the ruined city. They stood at different heights, on opposite ends of the arena, looking at each other. Harold with his red hair and a crazy glint in his eyes, Tavish in his elegant mayor's suit. They were allies, but now their goal was one: to survive.

Harold was the first to speak.

"Tavish, my dear colleague! I am so glad we finally meet in this... wonderful place." His voice sounded like a mad scientist from an old movie. "Imagine the possibilities before us! I can... destroy you with gravity! Or... no! I can assemble an army of killer robots from all this junk!"

Tavish remained unflustered. His voice was cold and pragmatic, completely devoid of emotion.

"Harold, you've always been too... theatrical. Let's get this over with quickly. I have more important things to do than listen to your insane ideas." He slightly raised an eyebrow, showing he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Harold laughed.

"You've always been like this, Tavish! Always put your... image above everything! But there's no electorate here! No one to appreciate your... 'seriousness'! Only me, your faithful servant, and... these cute kids who are watching us in horror!"

Harold raised his hands. Around him, debris from buildings and scrap metal began to gather. They hovered in the air, swirling around him like satellites. He was ready for the fight.

"We'll see who has the last laugh..." Tavish hissed.

He immediately shifted into his second form. His elegant suit dissolved, turning into a black cloak woven from condensed darkness. His skin turned ash-gray, and his eyes were two drops of amber that glowed from under a half-mask of a crow's skull. Two translucent wings, which whispered when he moved, emerged from his back.

He soared into the air, disappearing into the shadows. Harold reacted instantly. He directed one of the debris toward the shadow. But Tavish was too fast. He emerged from the shadow behind Harold and released a stream of ink that acted like acid.

Harold screamed in pain, but he didn't give up. He used his graviokinesis to throw Tavish back, and then released a stream of robots he had assembled from the junk. Tavish dodged, using his speed, and flew toward Harold. But he was ready. He created a gravitational field that forcefully pinned Tavish to the ground. He screamed, trying to break free, but Harold's power was too great.

"You are so predictable, Tavish! Did you think you could defeat me using your... shadow magic?" Harold laughed, and his laughter was like the scraping of metal. "I am gravity! I am the force that holds everything in this world! You are just a shadow!"

Tavish, gathering his last strength, released a wave of dark energy that knocked Harold back. He immediately created a fog that enveloped the arena. Harold couldn't see anything.

"What... what is this?" Harold screamed.

"This is your end," Tavish hissed.

He emerged from the fog, his eyes glowing. He was ready for a final attack. He created a giant ink monster that moved toward Harold.

Harold was frightened, but he didn't give up. He used his technology to create an army of robots that began to attack the monster. The robots were strong, but the monster was even stronger. It was made of pure darkness and ink that ate away at everything in its path.

Tavish, taking advantage of the moment, entered the monster's shadow and emerged directly behind Harold. He struck him with a blow that knocked him off his feet. Harold fell to the ground, and Tavish, without any compassion, plunged his claws into his chest.

"Winner, Marvin Tavish!" The Entity's voice echoed over the city.

Harold, like the other losers, disappeared, turning into a hologram, and was trapped in a red sphere. Tavish was teleported to his cage, where silence met him.

But then...

"So what now?" Aaron asked the air, holding his eye.

Everyone looked at Peterson.

"Are we, like... done with the first stage. Now it's my turn to fight Michael, isn't it?" He glanced with his other eye at the clone of Nicky, who returned the look.

For a moment, there was no answer, and then:

"You are right, Aaron. However, considering the condition of some of you, I will give you 3 hours to recover," said the voice of the Entity.

Trinity was skeptical about this:

"And what? We're supposed to sit in our cages for these 3 hours?" Bales asked.

The Entity's response was immediate:

"Of course not. You will be able to walk around the city; you just need to think about being there. However, any attempts to physically harm each other will be punished by being returned to the cages."

An updated panel immediately appeared in the sky. On it was a countdown: "3:00:00," which was slowly ticking away. It also had a table of the upcoming fights for the second phase:

* Michael vs. Aaron

* Trinity vs. Maritza

* Delroy vs. Finch

* Ivan vs. Abanante

* Theodore vs. Hooded Man/Nicholas

* Adelle vs. Tavish

At that very moment, the cages that had previously just hung in the air separately changed. A road appeared, connecting them.

"If you want, you can look at your opponents up close, even if they don't leave their cage," the Entity explained.

Aaron, Trinity, Maritza, Delroy, Finch, and Ivan were immediately teleported to the city; they all wanted to discuss everything that had happened.

Michael, Theodore, Abanante, Nicholas, Adelle, and Tavish decided to stay in the cages.

In the city:

"So... what do we do?" Delroy asked, looking at the others, particularly at Trinity and Ivan.

Trinity shifted nervously.

"Um... I don't know. We have no idea who the Entity is, where the losers are, or where we even are," her voice was full of grief.

"Well... we're in another dimension, that's clear," Ivan said.

Finch immediately asked a question:

"You can open portals to other dimensions and universes, right? What's the problem with just escaping like that?"

"It's unlikely this Entity would allow that to happen. It would probably just teleport me back here, or somewhere else," Torre looked away.

Maritza raised her hand:

"We just have to win. What's so hard about that? It said the winner gets a chance to have their wish granted," Esposito crossed her arms over her chest.

Aaron, however, was not so sure:

"And why would it give us such a privilege in the first place? Why hold a tournament? Why forcibly drag people here? Why turn others into holograms? There's no such thing as a free lunch." Peterson scoffed.

"Your words aren't without meaning, but still... it seems victory is our only chance to escape this place," Ivan said.

A silence fell between the group.

"In that case, I'll beat everyone here and get us out," Maritza said confidently.

"... Did you ever think about what happens to those who lose?" Aaron mumbled.

Esposito immediately looked at Peterson with a face of complete surprise:

"What?"

"I mean... maybe Nicky, Enzo, Uncle Jay, Aunt Luanne, Mr. Murtaugh might be in... a bad place." Aaron frowned.

Trinity immediately understood his thought:

"Are you saying they... might be traumatized there?" Bales asked.

Aaron nodded.

'Now I understand why Enzo fell for her. She's smart, beautiful... wow. Did I just start thinking that?' Peterson thought, but shook his head, brushing off the thoughts, as well as the blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah. Nicky and I were badly... traumatized and desperate after being locked in the basement, especially Nicky, because dad didn't spare him," Aaron said, looking at the floor.

He hated remembering those times, and he hated remembering what he did back then even more.

He was desperate; he didn't want to lose Nicky, who was finally by his side, and the hope of escape was slim. And for that, he hit Nicky with a crowbar.

He knows that Nicky doesn't hold a grudge. But the thought that he hurt his best friend so badly was killing him from the inside.

Finch and Delroy exchanged glances; they weren't very close to Aaron, and Delroy wasn't even close to Nicky, so they didn't know what to say.

"I... think we should think about the future battles," Ivan sighed, trying to change Aaron's train of thought.

After the incident with Nocky, which only happened because Ivan couldn't read his thoughts without permission, the guys decided to create a rule that Torre could read their minds without telling them in advance, only stopping when the thoughts started to get too personal.

"And what should we think about, nerd? I'm fighting Finch, Maritza is fighting Trinity. Only you and Aaron will be fighting real enemies." Delroy shrugged.

They couldn't help themselves, but the simple understanding that you would be fighting a friend/ally relieved the soul, because you were sure that at least you wouldn't die.

"Speaking of which... Aaron. I know you're mad at Michael for beating Nicky-" Ivan began, but was interrupted by Peterson:

"Not just beating him. A couple of days ago he almost killed Nicky; only the evolution of my sharingan saved him from death," Aaron crossed his arms over his chest.

Ivan looked away, as if trying to find the right words:

"I just want to say... that you should be more rational. I miss Nicky, too; I miss him a lot. He's like a big brother to me. But... emotionality in 90% of cases leads to mistakes." Ivan clapped his hands to get attention.

"And Michael will obviously use them," Trinity understood.

Finch, however, had a different opinion:

"But you saw him yourself. He's very emotional himself. Just tell him he's a clone, and there will be an explosion... literally." Allen raised an eyebrow.

"I DON'T think playing with him would be a good idea... he's also a person with feelings, and considering that he is Nicky, with his memories and emotions... it's even worse." Ivan shook his head.

Delroy was surprised by Torre's words:

"But this guy wanted to kill us! He tried to fry us, tear us apart, and he never once thought about his actions," Schmidt exclaimed.

Finch understood Ivan's line of thought:

"Yeah... but the thing is, he's not Nicky. Nicky wouldn't attack us, and especially wouldn't call Theodore dad."

Allen knew that her love hated the mustachioed man with every fiber of his being.

"Given Mr. Peterson's attitude toward him... I think he's lonely," Ivan said.

Aaron, however, understood the reason:

"Apparently, Michael is a means to an end... me. That's why he wanted to take me to dad back then in the forest."

Maritza's eyes widened:

"So Michael... is a tool?"

"Apparently," Trinity sighed.

Everyone in the group felt a little sorry for the clone of Nicky, well, almost everyone...

"So what? Because of that, I'm suddenly supposed to forgive him?" Aaron raised an eyebrow.

"I just think... it's worth being a little softer," Ivan looked up.

Right at Michael's cage.

He had to at least try.

"Now let's talk about... him," Aaron said, nodding toward the Hooded Man's cage. "I have a question. Why did the Entity call him 'Nicky from the previous timeline'?"

Ivan frowned, his gaze fixed on Nicholas's cage.

"'Timeline'... A temporal line. This means he came from another time. Another version of our reality."

"But how is that possible?" Maritza asked. "We're... we're just people. We can't travel through time."

"Not exactly. Remember, your future version managed to get to our time by gaining speed and breaking the space-time continuum."

Finch thoughtfully bit her lip.

"And why did he help us sometimes, and attack us others? He attacked me after I got the stone. Then he attacked me and Nicky, and locked us in the catacombs. But at the same time, he saved me and Nicky from Abanante."

"That makes sense if you think of him as a different person..." Ivan said. "Perhaps his goals have changed. Perhaps he is looking for something he needs, not us."

"Or..." Aaron added. "...he doesn't want us to win. Maybe he knows that winning will lead to something terrible, and he's trying to stop us."

Trinity shook her head, her eyes full of tears.

"But if that's the case... why was he so cruel to Luanne? She's his mom! He shouldn't have done that!"

"Maybe it's not his mom, but a version of her from his world. And something happened... something that made him hate her."

Maritza clenched her fists.

"If he's really from another timeline, then... could he have created these Chaos Stones?"

"Or he's cooperating with whoever created them..." Delroy suggested.

A silence hung over the group. This thought was too terrifying to voice out loud.

"I don't know," Ivan said. "But we have to be ready for anything. We have to understand who he is and why he's here."

Ivan looked at Michael, and then at Nicholas, who was still standing in his cage, not moving. He felt that both of them were the keys to solving this mystery. But to solve it, they would have to win. And not just win, but understand them.

Ivan slowly got to his feet. He glanced at his friends, who were still discussing the incredible riddle of the Hooded Man, and made a decision. He needed to get answers, and he knew where to look for them.

Closing his eyes, Ivan focused. He imagined the place where Michael's cage stood and instantly teleported there. The road connecting the cages was solid but looked spectral. He slowly walked toward Michael's cage.

Michael stood with his back to Ivan, his gaze fixed on the arena. He looked tired and thoughtful. Ivan walked closer and stopped.

"Michael," Ivan said, his voice quiet but firm. "I need to talk to you."

Michael slowly turned around. His crimson eyes were full of coldness and alienation. He didn't look surprised. He looked... empty.

"What do you want, Ivan?" Michael asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I need to know the truth," Ivan said. "I know you're not evil. You've just... lost your way. I want to understand why you're here. Why you're acting like this."

Michael smirked.

"You think you know who I am?" He laughed, and his laughter was full of bitterness. "You think I'm a clone of Nicholas? That's not true. I'm the original. The supreme life form. I..."

Ivan felt his heart constrict.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Who are you REALLY? Are you even... sure of your story?"

Michael fell silent. He looked away.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said.

Ivan was stunned. He expected Michael to be angry, to try to attack him, but he was just... broken.

"I know how you feel," Ivan said. "But you're not alone. We're ready to help you. We don't care if you're the original... or you know who. We'll... accept you."

Michael shook his head.

"No," he said. "I... don't want this."

Ivan was at a loss. He didn't know what to do. But he knew he couldn't just leave.

"I won't give up," Ivan said. "I'll fight for you. I'll bring you home."

Michael just looked away.

Finch ran her palm over the glass one last time, and it softly clicked into the frame. Her fingers trembled slightly with fatigue: after all, it was the fifteenth window of the day, plus vases, plus Luanne had come by a couple of times, quietly asking her to fix the cabinet door and replace some cups in the kitchen.

But... she didn't complain. Because this was their home. And she wanted to be a part of it.

Finch took a step back, shaking the last bits of energy from her palm. The light from the lamp inside passed through her glass, perfectly transparent, with a slight cyan tint, as if it held a magical sheen.

She exhaled. And for the first time that evening, she allowed herself to sit down. Right on the floor. On the porch. Her back against the wall.

"Done."

The door creaked.

"Did you really do all of it?" Jay came out, surprised, looking over the result.

"All the windows, the vases... even that stained glass with the birds? Was that you?"

"Yep," Finch nodded.

"I thought the birds would fit. The house is alive. I wanted to add something... light."

Jay was silent for a couple of seconds. Then he sat down next to her. It was... awkward, like a grown-up who finds it hard to say they're impressed.

"You know, you... you impressed us. Me. Luanne."

"I tried," she answered, tired but honest.

"Not for a grade. Just... so I wouldn't feel like an outsider."

"You're not an outsider."

He said it not like a friend, not even like a father, but like a person who had lived. Who had seen when someone didn't believe they were wanted around.

Finch offered a weak smile.

"And I thought you still saw me as the girl who used to mock your son, calling him crazy and a weirdo... um, sorry about that."

Jay chuckled.

"Well, I can't say we forgot right away. But the fact that you threw yourself in with full resolve to save my son raised the bar significantly."

They both laughed.

Finch stood up, offering him a hand.

"I'm going... to Nicky's room. Just... to sit next to him. If he hasn't passed out yet."

"He's fast asleep. With Alicia. Don't even try to wake him up. He'll hit you with lightning in his sleep."

"I hope he at least doesn't snore," she mumbled, walking into the house.

Inside...

Nicky was indeed lying there, with messy hair and a warm, slightly ruffled blanket. Alicia, nestled on his chest, was softly snoring. He was asleep too. His lips were slightly parted. He looked... peaceful.

Finch didn't go any closer. She just sat down by the wall, not too far away. She watched. Silently.

"Fragile," she whispered to herself.

"Like glass. It only seems strong."

She rested her head on her hands.

And just sat there. While everything was quiet. While the house held them inside. While no one was calling.

But then he started to open his eyes...

For a few seconds, he just breathed. He savored the moment: no screaming, no explosions, no portals. Only silence. And... someone else's breathing nearby. Not Alicia's.

He turned his head.

"You're here?" he rasped.

Finch, who was sitting against the wall with her legs tucked in, looked up. She smiled, but not a wide one.

"Yep. On watch."

"That's terrible," Nicky blinked.

"You've been putting the house back together all day, haven't you?"

"Well... yeah," she stretched.

"Someone had to. A house without windows is like Enzo's whip without the theatrics."

"Or Ivan without sarcasm."

"Or Delroy without lemonade."

They both laughed quietly, trying not to wake the little one.

Nicky was silent for a second, then stretched through the pain, and sat up, putting a pillow under his head.

"I... I feel a little awkward. You've been working all day, and I've been lying around. I couldn't even help."

Finch waved her hand dismissively.

"You were lying around because you were literally pounded into the ground by a psycho with rocket rings. So I wouldn't call that rest."

"Still," he looked at her honestly.

"Maybe... I can repay you somehow?"

Finch rolled her eyes, but in a good-natured way.

"Repay me? For what? We're friends. Or do you want to give me a check with the signature: 'Thanks for the vases'?"

"Maybe not a check... maybe something more personal?" he smiled slightly.

"Like... help, a conversation, a gift. I don't know. Anything."

She pouted slightly, tilting her head to the side. She thought. Silently. For a second, two.

"Hmm... Since you offered..." she stood up, moved closer. She bent down, leaning on her knees, bending towards him. Her face was only a few inches away.

"I'm not asking. But... I wouldn't mind... another kiss."

Nicky froze.

"Finch..."

"I know. You're not ready. I'm not pressuring you. I'm just being honest. I... liked it. You decide for yourself," she straightened up, taking a step back.

"Just know that if you want to, I'm here."

He was silent. Just watching. Deeply. He sighed slightly.

"You deserve more than 'I'm not ready yet.'"

"And you deserve more than a girl who used to bully you. But you're not complaining."

Nicky looked down at Alicia. He yawned quietly.

"Can you stay? Just... nearby?"

"I've been sitting here all day," she sat back down on the floor, closer.

"I'm not going anywhere."

They didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But at least they hoped everything would be a little smoother...

Yeah, right...

...

The next day, after school:

She appeared abruptly. Like a flash. Like a zoom in slow motion, only in reverse.

The entity was like a phantom: its body outline trembled like a mirage on asphalt. Faceless. Dark red. After the very first attack, it was clear—this wasn't just an imitation.

It was a clone of Maritza. Or, at least, her speed.

"She moves like me..." Maritza breathed out, leaping aside as the copy struck the air next to her, and the trees behind them folded up as if they'd been hit with a hammer.

Finch screamed:

"Too fast! I can't even create anything in time."

Quentin lunged into a mirror jump, but only reflected the movement, not capturing it.

Enzo tried to track the trajectory with his senses, but the feeling was like being hit in the head with vibrations. He could dodge, but he couldn't catch it.

Ivan held a shield of ice, but even he could barely keep up with the flash flickering around the perimeter.

The creature's speed wasn't normal. It was turning on its own.

Every movement was a lunge, like a teleport, but it wasn't. Just speed.

"Box her in! She's not strong, just fast!" Enzo shouted, lashing the air with his whip in an attempt to predict the trajectory.

The entity lunged towards Aaron, who barely managed to put up a lightning shield, and sparks flew as if from a collision with a meteor. He was thrown back a meter and gasped:

"Oh, hell no. She doesn't even hit, she just breaks ribs by running through!"

Maritza activated. Inside, that same impulse. Purple. Fast. Raw. She activated her form. Her hair glowed. Her veins trembled. A vortex at her feet.

"My speed. My problem."

And they collided.

The girl and the copy.

Lunges. Strikes. Blurry lines.

The others could only watch as two trails, one living and one synthetic, clashed in the middle of the field. Every time Maritza missed, she was thrown back. Every time she hit, the entity crumbled, but reassembled itself.

"She's not human..." Trinity whispered, watching the battle.

Ivan understood:

"It's accelerated energy. Autonomous. The crystal is embedded inside. A self-learning reflex."

Quentin slowed space for a second. Just one. It was enough.

Enzo created a whip, a direct strike. He hit the entity's leg, disrupting its impulse.

Delroy punched it in the chest.

Ivan activated a telekinetic wave, pinning it to the ground.

Maritza didn't hesitate. One last step. A pulse of light.

A clean hit. To the throat.

The entity shattered. This time—for good. The lines of energy cracked like glass. And in the center, a crystal.

Pulsating, bright, still hot.

Maritza exhaled, grabbing her knees.

"I won. But damn... it felt like I was fighting my own future, just meaner."

Trinity was the first to approach. She bent down. Her hand reached for the crystal...

And a second hand—was placed on top of it.

With a ring. With a sharp manicure.

Valerie Abanante. The principal. A Crowface.

"Well, children. Welcome to the next stage."

The crystal flashed. Everyone recoiled.

Ivan flinched, trying to track the flow.

Abanante whispered:

"Chaos Duel—activated."

Everyone froze.

"...What duel?" Enzo asked.

"...Did you just challenge me to a duel?" Trinity said slowly, not letting go of the crystal.

Abanante chuckled.

"A Chaos Duel. Have you heard of it?"

Silence. Only the humming of the artifact.

"Only in theory."

Ivan exhaled from the side:

"That's why the second signal disappeared... The principal already activated her crystal. And now she's put it on the line."

Trinity frowned slightly:

"Wait. What's the stake?"

Abanante answered calmly:

"In a Chaos Duel... the winner gets not only the disputed crystal, but also whatever the opponent has put up. I'm putting this up."

She raised her left hand. A flash.

In the air—a bright cyan crystal. The power was palpable even from a distance.

"Chaos Crystal: Lightning."

Everyone was stunned.

Nicky, standing aside, straightened up, as if only now understanding the cost of what was happening. This Crystal contained the same element as his.

Trinity didn't blink.

"Fine. I'll put up the Chaos Crystal: Sound."

Small. Violet. Still warm. She held it forward.

Abanante nodded.

"Accepted."

She stepped closer. The crystals touched.

"Now for the rules. Simple. One victory. One fight. Whoever survives wins."

Ivan sharply whispered:

"She chooses the field. A simple rule—means she's confident."

And then...

The world lurched.

Dust. Light. Space seemed to pull itself inward.

The next thing they saw—an arena.

Round. Gigantic. Under an open sky, but not the one they knew.

The sky above them was cracked. Like glass struck by lightning.

All the spectators—in the stands. All the participants—out of the fight.

Sitting. Like in an ancient Colosseum.

In the center, two figures.

Trinity and Abanante.

Far away, but visible. A bright light over each of them, like a spotlight on a stage.

A voice from somewhere above—like a system voice:

"Chaos Duel activated. Conditions: defeat the opponent by any means. Stakes: Chaos Crystal: Lightning versus Chaos Crystal: Sound. Violations—unacceptable. Fight for: Chaos Crystal: Speed. The winner takes all."

Silence.

Quentin, next to the others in the stands, just said:

"Well... I didn't see that coming."

"And who did?" Delroy added.

"I'm kinda not sure this is a good idea..." Murtaugh mumbled.

Aaron looked at Nicky:

"I bet she'll win."

"I bet she won't give up. The rest—we'll see."

In the arena, Trinity raised her hands. Violet energy swirled around her palms, trickled down her fingers, and slightly ruffled her hair. Her eyes were calm, but her gaze was sharp.

Abanante was opposite her. Black feathers were already beginning to grow on her shoulders. Her face elongated, her body dissolved into a distortion. She didn't even warn them; her second form activated instantly.

"Begin!" the loudspeaker shouted.

Abanante made a lightning-fast lunge forward. Her body was no longer human. Feathers trailed through the air, a trail of ash behind her.

A punch to the chest.

Trinity went airborne with "Flight of Hope." Streams of wind wrapped around her legs like ribbons. She rose, using her maneuverability.

"You're higher—I'm faster."

Abanante teleported, appeared above Trinity in a second, and threw a ball of magma, but Trinity had already formed a "Barrier of Despair." The ball hissed against the violet barrier, but cracks quickly spread across the shield.

To the side, a tremor. Trinity's "Howl" was activated.

The sound hit the feathers, pushing Abanante away. She was knocked off her trajectory for a moment.

Trinity activated "Wind Blades," throwing them in a series, like daggers from the sky.

Abanante spun in the air, pushing off the currents, dodging. One cut on her shoulder, and black, viscous blood gushed out. She hissed.

Abanante exhaled a "Poison Cloud," and the entire center of the arena began to slowly cover itself in a greenish mist.

"If you want to fight, breathe."

Trinity used "Wind Boost" and "Transparency," rushing through the cloud, avoiding contact. Chains of confinement were already forming around her opponent. Abanante teleported to the side, but the chains grabbed her wing.

One wing was pulled tight, she lost her balance, and fell.

Abanante landed and switched to her "Dark" form. Everything darkened. The arena's light seemed to dim.

An attack with a dark sphere—a powerful release of energy, which spread out in an explosive wave. Trinity blocked with "Limitation Dome," but was thrown back by the force, barely keeping the barrier from breaking.

Abanante teleported above her, a top-down attack.

"Anger Press" activated by reflex, and slammed Abanante into the ground right before the strike. The ground cracked, but she got up. Quickly. Without a sound.

"Brave girl," she chuckled.

Valerie crashed into Trinity, grabbed her leg, and threw her to the ground like a hammer.

Trinity shot into the air, "Zero Mass" removed her weight, she hung there, catching her breath.

Abanante created magma from both hands. Trinity cast "Wind Dragon" in response.

Strike on strike. Magma and wind clashed. An explosion. Dust, sparks, smoke.

In the stands:

"Damn!" Maritza shouted, worried.

"Is Trinity okay?" Murtaugh asked.

"Yeah... I feel it, even if she's getting weaker," Enzo mumbled. His concern was audible.

"Come on, guys... Trinity is our leader, she'll handle it. If even I was able to put up a fight against Abanante, then she definitely can. She's the strongest of us, after all," Nicky said.

Everyone looked at him.

"What?"

"Praising your own girlfriend, I see..." Delroy smirked.

"She's not my girlfriend!/She's not his girlfriend!" Nicky, Aaron, Enzo, Maritza, and Finch all shouted at once.

"...you just love trolling everyone, don't you?" Quentin looked at the teenager.

"Yep. I'm our jokester."

"Can we get back to the fight..." Ivan muttered.

In the arena:

Trinity fell. Blood on her forehead. Breathing heavily.

Abanante walked, scorching the ground beneath her.

"Last chance," Trinity said.

Hand up.

"People in the stands... raise your hands. Please."

Nicky was the first to raise his hand. Enzo, Maritza, Finch followed. Everyone. One by one.

"SPIRIT BOMB."

Energy gathered in Trinity's palm. From the grass, from the wind, from everyone who raised their hands.

A violet sphere. At first, the size of a palm. Then a ball. Then a house. Then a truck.

Abanante felt it, and lunged.

Too late.

The bomb flew.

A direct hit.

A blinding flash.

...

"Alright... does anyone still argue that she's not the strongest?" Nicky turned around, and everyone was silent.

"Exactly."

Technically she achieved that by taking our power... but whatever. Ivan thought.

...

Abanante lay unconscious, her second form and Dark form dissipating.

The Chaos Crystal: Lightning, detached from her chest, and hovered towards Trinity. The "Chaos Blade: Speed" also flew in from above.

"The duel is over. Winner: Trinity. Prize: three crystals are now at her disposal."

Suddenly, the space around them changed again; the world returned to normal.

...

The kids realized they were standing in the exact same spot they had been before being thrown into that world.

While everyone was trying to understand what was happening, Abanante didn't say a word.

She silently got up, breathing heavily, still radiating a faint heat, the remnants of magma dripping onto the stones. Her eyes were clouded, momentarily even empty. She looked at Trinity, she looked at everyone, and... she raised her hand.

Teleportation. A flash. She disappeared.

No threat. No retaliation.

"...Damn, we could have captured her," Aaron muttered.

"What... was that?" Enzo said, still fanning his cheek, which had been accidentally grazed by the shockwave of the spirit bomb.

"Did we just... participate in an ancient battle royale?"

Maritza covered her eyes with her hand:

"Chaos Tournament, crystals, stakes... Are we in a magical trading card anime, or am I overheated?"

Ivan stood, leaning against the nearest tree, snapping his fingers in concentration.

"No. It's all logical, assuming the crystals are fragments of a single system. Forty is the minimum number, judging by the energy records. But it's possibly more. We just... got into a game."

Quentin gave a crooked smile:

"Well, at least it's not a gacha game."

Aaron sighed and looked at Trinity, who was now holding three crystals:

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied with her characteristic calm.

"It's just a little strange to feel the power, stakes, and trust of everyone at once."

Nicky had been sitting silently the whole time, propping his head up with his fist. But then Delroy began:

"Now that's what I call faith in a girl! You were just like in the movies—she's in the arena, and you're in the stands like: 'THAT'S MY QUEEN!'"—as he said this, he put one hand behind his back and theatrically pressed the other to his chest.

"Shut up, Delroy."

"No, no, I'm serious. I never thought we'd see the moment Nicky Roth blushes with pride instead of anger!"

"I said—shut up."

"Alright, alright..." Delroy raised his hands.

"Just don't forget to send her flowers after the victory. Or a crystal. Or your own soul, since you've already given yourself to her anyway."

Finch snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing.

Aaron looked away, but his shoulders were shaking—not from the pain in his eyes, but from suppressed laughter.

Nicky finally spoke, gloomily:

"You're celebrating too early. If there are really forty of these crystals, and each one is guarded by an entity, and you have to fight the school principal or her grandma for each one... We have a little more of a chance than a potato against a shotgun, damn it."

"You have a talent for comparative metaphors," Murtaugh noted.

"But yeah, in fact—the road will be long."

"Maybe we're like in 'Pokémon'—we catch 'em all to unlock the secret ending?" Maritza smirked, dusting herself off.

"Ha!" Finch winked.

"Only here 'Pikachu' can break your ribs."

"Mine are already broken..." Aaron grumbled, rubbing his side.

"Then it's all according to canon," Delroy summarized.

Trinity stood up, holding the crystals in her hands. Her face was calm but attentive:

"Okay. Enough with the jokes. If we want to collect the artifacts—we need to make a plan. Scanning, reconnaissance, fighters. Those who are strong—for the fight. Those who are agile—for the interception. Those who are smart—join me in strategy. And yes... we have to be ready that the next crystal won't be given so easily."

"Especially if it's not the principal who comes for it... but, say, the minister of defense," Ivan muttered.

"Or... the mayor," Finch added, and everyone exchanged worried glances in silence.

Nicky stood up, brushed off the dust, and looked at the sky. Then he looked at Trinity:

"Well, you at least impressed me. Just like Finch with the vases. Though, one with a bomb, the other with glass. Everyone has their own methods."

Finch laughed:

"You know... for now, I'd rather throw teacups than drop bombs. But who knows. Maybe by the tenth crystal, I'll relearn."

Quentin looked into the distance:

"Guys. I don't want to stress you out... but it seems like someone is watching us."

Everyone tensed up.

"Just kidding," he winked.

But in the forest, on a distant hill, two figures were indeed standing in the shadows. Through the trees, they saw everything.

"They are ready for a fight. But the tournament will start soon," one of the figures said, a man's voice.

"...Then we follow the plan," replied the second figure, who turned out to be the Hooded Man.

...

At night:

Night covered the city in silence.

Not that anxious, unnaturally-loud silence that the heroes had already learned to recognize as a harbinger of trouble.

But a real one.

Calm. Pleasant. Homey.

Nicky closed the window in his room and exhaled. Fatigue still lingered in his muscles, but he felt a little warmer inside. Maybe because of Alicia, who, despite her crying, managed to lift his spirits. Maybe because Finch had sat next to him without saying a word—just being there. Or maybe because today... there were no intense battles.

Yet.

"Good night," he mumbled, not opening his eyes. And he fell asleep.

In the next house, Trinity was tying her hair into a light bun, standing in front of the mirror. On her cheek—a fresh scratch, but her gaze was steady. Her mother, Joy, leaned in the doorway:

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," Trinity replied.

"Just... tired."

Donald grumbled from the kitchen:

"Our daughter needs a year's vacation. Or at least a day without magic, explosions, and threats of the end of the world."

"That would be nice," she chuckled, turning on the nightlight and getting into bed.

"Good night, Mom. Dad."

"We're here for you," Joy said softly.

"Always," Donald added.

And the light went out.

One by one, they fell asleep.

Enzo—in a chair with a book he hadn't finished.

Maritza—in a hammock on the balcony, covered by the starry sky and a thin blanket.

Ivan—with a notebook on which the last line remained: "the possibilities of unstable energy during multiple resonance..."—and an ink blot.

Delroy fell asleep with headphones on. Most likely, listening to a podcast about conspiracy theories.

Finch curled up by the window, hugging a pillow with a bird embroidered on it.

Aaron couldn't sleep for a long time. His new eyes pulsed even through his eyelids. He knew—tomorrow everything would change.

Quentin stared at the clock for a long time. And then he just said:

"Stop guessing,"—and lay down, after first covering Aaron with a blanket (what a father of the year).

Jay and Luanne slept the way parents who have been through too much know how to: soundly, but lightly. Close by, but still anxious.

Murtaugh—peacefully, with a stack of books and exams for his students nearby.

Theodore—in a chair, with a blanket and unfinished tea, he was in... a cave.

Michael—in the shadows, eyes open, but his mind shut off.

Adelle—by the window, in a chair.

Gerda and Leslie—each in their own home.

Abanante—by a bonfire, alone.

Otto, Tavish, Gordon, Dale, Harold—someone in a tent, someone in a workshop, someone in a taxi.

And then...

A light.

A flash that wasn't bright, not blinding. More like—pure. As if time decided to blink. As if the world had rebooted, but hadn't given a warning.

The rooms remained empty.

The blankets—rumpled. The cups—full. The pages—not turned.

But the people...

Were gone.

No screams. No portals. No warnings.

They just—disappeared.

All 23 of them.

As if by a count.

As if by a summons.

...

Trinity was the first to come to.

A sharp wind stung her skin. The air—dry, as if it hadn't rained here for centuries. Her eyes opened. No ceiling. Above her, only the sky. Beneath her...

"What the..." she whispered.

A cage. Suspended in the air. Chains led upwards, into the fog. And below—ruins. Once, this had been a city. Towers, bridges, streets, houses. Everything was now just stones, jutting out of the ground like the ribs of a dead titan.

She got up, grabbing the bars. Her gaze darted to the side. Cages. Lots of them. Dozens. All different. Suspended in chaos, some higher, some lower. And in each one...

"Nicky?... Enzo?" she breathed out.

Familiar faces. Friends. Not-friends.

Some were still sleeping. Some—were already waking up.

Nicky, lying on his side, suddenly opened his eyes and sat up.

"What the hell?!"

"Is this a dream?" Aaron's voice was hoarse.

"Doesn't look like it," Maritza said, clenching her fists.

Ivan, with a distorted face:

"I... did not calculate this."

The cages swayed in the wind. It looked like a carousel of hell. No one understood where they were, how they got here, or why.

And then a voice. It didn't boom, it didn't shout. It penetrated their minds, and that only made it worse.

"Greetings, participants. I am God. A being that will grant any of your wishes if you become the winner of the Starfall Tournament."

Instant silence. Only the wind howling through the bars of the cages.

Nicky gave a crooked smile:

"Yeah. Right. I'm out. I was supposed to have a day without fights, what are you doing? Let us out."

"Escape is impossible. An attempt to leave the fight, dodge, or restrain yourself in battle will be considered a disqualification for both participants. Everyone will fight. To the last. Without fakery. Without pauses. Without limitations. The losers—are sealed."

Before everyone's eyes—a flash of light in the air beneath the cages. A sphere appeared—red, like a pulsating drop of blood. Inside—transparent walls, shimmering with holograms. A cage-trap. A prison.

"There will be many of these. Get used to it. You will even fight with your loved ones."

Everyone froze.

"The tournament bracket has already been generated."

Right in the air between the cages, a screen flashed—like a projector in the air. A list. Clear. Undeniable.

ROUND 1:

* Nicky vs Michael

* Aaron vs Dale

* Trinity vs Enzo

* Maritza vs Gordon

* Delroy vs Otto

* Finch vs Gerda

* Ivan vs Murtaugh

* Jay vs Abanante

* Quentin vs Theodore

* Luanne vs Hooded Man

* Adelle vs Leslie

* Tavish vs Harold

Nicky froze, as if he had been struck.

"I have to fight... myself?"

Michael, in the neighboring cage, slowly smirked:

"What, afraid of getting punched in the face again, fake?"

Trinity looked at Enzo, and he replied:

"Just don't go easy on me. I'm not going to lose just because you're... well, you."

Ivan and Murtaugh exchanged glances. Neither of them wanted to fight each other. They were practically a father and son.

Quentin looked at Theodore, who was silent, staring at Aaron.

That jerk... he's not going to hurt him again. The journalist wanted to protect his adopted son from... the adopted son's father.

"First match. Nicky versus Michael," the creature's voice said, and Nicky and Michael vanished from their cages.

"Nicky?" Finch looked at the now-empty cage.

"He's there... in the city," Enzo let them know.

And indeed, Nicky and Michael were standing opposite each other right on a ruined street.

"I declare the Starfall Tournament open!"

…