Organization XIV - The Story So Far

Satisfied with their agreement, Gestalt quietly pushed back his chair and stood up. "Well, thank you all for your time. I'd love to chat further, but I've still got a few preparations to see to before the next match, so please excuse me. Good night, everyone."

He gave a curt bow to friends, allies and guests-who-were-potential-allies, then turned to leave. It seemed a touch impolite to leave the conversation, but he had one more thing to prepare for the match, and it was going to be even more difficult than his sword-throwing parlor trick was to master, so the sooner the better.

As the conversation in the dining hall died down, Dispatch was returning to his room, his mood for the evening dampened. He gave a hard, hefty sigh as he scowled out the window, undoing the laces on his boots and throwing himself onto the bed. Where had the Chief gone off to, he wondered? And how could a team competing in a tournament just walk up to one of the other teams and ask them to play favorites? Pathetic is what that was. Like each team didn't already have their own asses to look after. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes began to drift shut, thinking back what had to be twenty years, to his first ever tournament.

To him, the other three Saiyans had seemed so huge at the time. They were older than him, by enough that they had all hit or were in the middle of their growth spurts, while he was still...well, compared to his current self, probably about up to his knee. The four had just been assigned to a group. Dispatch had been there, of course, though he hadn't earned that nickname just yet, and naturally the Chief was there. Tabago had been the one to suggest they figure out a primary leader, while the oldest of the group, Nispar, suggested that he was the biggest and strongest, so he'd be the best fit.

The girl of their group brushed her bangs behind her ear, scoffing. "I'm not running into a fight under leadership of some dumb brute. I like to fight as much as the next Saiyan, but I want to win."

"Ha! You think you could do better, Celry? Tell ya what, then, why don't we put this mission off for a minute and have ourselves a little scuffle? Whoever wins gets to lead the team. Hell, I'll even let the other two kids join in!"

Tabago's eyes narrowed for a split second. "I was going to let you two fight it out, but if you're both going to act like this, maybe we would be better off if I threw my hat in the ring. Who goes first?"

"Well, everyone should fight everyone else, just so we're sure it's not one of those rock-paper-scissors cases," said Nispar. "So I'll take...the runt."

Dispatch looked around. Tabago gave Nispar a disapproving look, where Celry snickered. "The runt is the only one you think you can take first, huh? Alright, be my guest. While you're doing that, I'm gonna go grab my first win."

Tabago smirked back at her. "Confident, aren't you? If you're as good as you say, we'll be in good hands no matter which of us wins."

The other two departed, leaving Dispatch alone with the hulking young man, who had to be twice his height and triple his width. Not that Saiyans usually cared about things like that, but a Saiyan could also spot a losing fight when he saw one. "I don't think I can--"

"YAH!" Nispar lunged forwards, taking Dispatch by his shoulderpad and the waist of his undersuit and flinging him overhead. A fist dug into his stomach shortly after, and for just a moment, Dispatch tasted his breakfast. He'd fallen unconscious shortly after that.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up. It had to have been a couple of hours, but they were already in a small ship. Dispatch looked around, and Nispar was slumped in a corner, out cold likely from the combination of fresh bruises and open cuts. Tabago was standing at the controls, Celry a short distance behind him. The girl looked over her shoulder. "Hey, Chief. Kid's up. You wanna tell him or should I?"

"You go ahead, I have to fly the ship for now," replied Tabago.

Celry shrugged, and took a couple of steps closer. "Tabago won," she said simply. "Turns out that Nispar guy was all talk. Tabago and I both kicked his ass. As for you...you got a ways to go before you could take any of us on if you lost to him."

"He's the biggest guy here!" Dispatch protested.

"So? What, you let him intimidate you? You're gonna need a better excuse than that, kid. Get your act together or the best leader in the world won't keep your ass alive." Celry looked over at Tabago, a glint appearing in her eye. Under her breath, she added, "...But I guess we do have that going for us."

Dispatch looked back and forth between Tabago, their new Chief, and Celry. She was so self-assured last time he'd seen her. What exactly had happened while he was out?

The next day...

As Kain walked off towards the upstairs rooms, he stopped, hearing a chirp coming from his clamshell-like device. Grabbing his flip phone, he pulled it out from a deep pocket in his robes, winced at the new crack in the screen, then looked past it to see the new message he'd gotten on Pesterchum Mobile. The sight of familiar red text made him squint slightly, considering the white background of the app. He smirked slightly, then began sending his own reply.

FR: Hey
FR: Can You Come Up To The Roof?
FR: Fuck 
FR: Sorry
FR: Would You Come To The Roof? 
FR: Grammar Police
AA: I ¢ould, and I do believe I will $hortly. I$ there anything you want me to bring?
FR: Can I Get A Uhhhhhhh
AA: I know what you want, $ay it.
FR: A Fuckin Burger?
AA: They don't have tho$e here, $adly. I ¢ould $ynthe$ize one if you brought the ¢ruxtruder and other thing$.
FR: Fuck No
FR: Didnt Have Time

Kain winced slightly, but threw up his hood, clapped his phone shut, and flew out the nearest open window up to the rooftop. The setting sun shone red as it began to descend past the mountain in the distance, dyeing the marbled rooftops a delicate pale orange, as motes of dust flew up and glinted in the warm sunlight as Kain landed upon the roof and strode over to where his red-hooded companion sat on the edge, legs hanging over. Kain sat down, leaving a space between them, hugging his legs to his chest as he stared over at the rest of the city, watching the people walk to and fro, the crowds thinning and man-made light replaced natural light indoors. 

Moments and minutes blended together in a passing stream, flowing through and passing by Kain and Finn as the sun kept sinking until it finally truly set over the horizon's edge. Kain looked over to Finn, who simply stared off in the distance, his face neutral. He's always had a little bit of an unfortunate resting bitch face, but he seems content for right now. Kain turned back to look at the people milling about, catching snippets of gossip, and even some people who sounded like they were at the Games today. Kain took in the sounds, closing his eyes, and nearly nodding off after a while. 

About another hour passed and Kain shifted where he sat, scooting to the left a bit. He was a little sore, and turned to face Finn on his right. "Was there something you wanted to ask me, or did we already do that and we're just chilling up here?"

Finn's left eyebrow twitched slightly, and spoke for the first time since they'd come up to the rooftops. "No. Didn't wanna break the promise I made you about consenting to that sort of thing. Dire situations only, right?" Finn turned to look over at Kain, face still flat and neutral as it ever was, eyes peering from behind dark glasses. "Did you wanna talk about shit or say something? Floor's yours, dude."

Kain bit his cheek at 'say something', but otherwise looked up as if remembering something for a moment before speaking. "Er, well, there's a couple things that I wanted to clear up or ask about if you were cool with it. Personal recordkeeping, if you will, but it's still stuff I wish I'd either said earlier or needed to say now. I suppose first off is establishing that I wound up on another team from you all, and I didn't find you before registering."

Finn said nothing, and Kain sighed. "What I wanted to say is that while I'm sorry I never got to you all in time -- pardon the irony -- but after seeing some of these kids and seeing them as my ticket to ride, I felt indebted to them in the short term, and I didn't anticipate running up against all of you so soon after we finished making a pact with Hermes." When still no response was forthcoming, Kain pressed on, saying, "And frankly I don't know if I upset any of you all. I guess I want to know whether or not to feel guilty because we're at opposing ends right now and the last thing I want is bad blood between the last of us."

Finn nodded once, then simply said, "I get you. I don't blame you. I doubt the others do as well." And then silence as he turned back to the city. "Frankly I called you up here to just spend time with you."

Kain nodded back. 

Another hour passes, and as the stars come out and the city grows quiet, Kain stands up to leave. As he's turning to leave, Finn speaks up, "Got a plan for tomorrow?"

Kain scratched the back of his head, still turned away from Finn. "Are you asking me or offering advice?"

"I... Fuck, man, it's so hard to talk to you sometimes. Never mind, have a good night."

"Finn, I don't know how to talk to you either half the time. I asked whether or not you meant it one way or another, that's all. Why is asking for clarification an issue?"

"It's not an issue, but that's also not my point."

"So what is your point?"

"What's your goal tomorrow? What are you doing, what is your plan?"

Kain stopped for a moment then shrugged. "It kinda feels self-defeating if I told you, and a conflict of interest besides."

"Well what does that mean." Finn's voice was annoyed, and this normally flat expression showed telltale signs Kain could pick out that he was getting angry. One brow slightly furrowed and asymmetrical. Left cheek twitching slightly as his mouth twitched when he wasn't moving. Jaw jutting forward slightly, the lean forward, half into his combat stance. 

"It means that I don't know what you're all wishing for, and despite my agreement to help Team Hermes, I don't want to jeopardize whatever wish we-- you all made. If it's what I think it's for, I want that even more, so part of me wants to tell you, but I still don't know why everyone is in the tournament then!"

"So why don't you ask me that?"

"Because I didn't want to harsh what you wanted, apparently! You wanted silence!"

"I said I wanted to fuckin hang out!"

"And there's the swearing. Great, now I have to start fearing for my own life again. Do I need to ask Isis about this argument ahead of time-- sorry, ahead of you?"

"Knock it the fuck off, Kain! That's shitty and you know it! Stop doing that, I hate it! I get it! I get that I'm the Ace of Time and I have to live out hundreds of alternate realities every second I don't keep that in check! I missed having a friend around, and wanted to spend that time with him any way I fucking could! If you wanted to ask questions, fucking fantastic! I wasn't stopping you from speaking your mind, Kain, but whatever weight you wanted to assign to any of this with whatever preconceived notion, that's yours to have!" Finn was standing at this point, and his voice was steadily creeping upward, beginning to match his tone. "I can't fucking read your mind, and even if I could, I wouldn't, because that's a shitty thing to do! And it sucks! Dana and Isis and everyone fucking else who had anything like it fucking hated it! And you expect me to be doing it all the time even though I know you hate it and I know you don't want me doing it! I don't. I don't ever turn on my time powers around you for any reason. You were welcome to ask what we wished for. It wasn't decided yet. We wanted to see what would happen, so we asked if we could ask after, depending on our performance. Zeus said yes instantly. We don't have it set in stone right now. It's as malleable as time is. As we are."

Kain was clenching his fist, nearly hard enough to draw blood, working his jaw as he stared at the floor next to Finn's feet, not meeting his gaze, unable to look him in the eye. "And thank you for finally letting me know, but why wasn't that something that came up immediately? Why didn't you or Isis or Zero say anything to me? I didn't have company for however the hell long it took me to get out of the damned Medium, so pardon me if my conversational skills are a bit rusty. Sorry I didn't consult you first, but that's also aside the fact that whatever you might have seen, or Isis might have seen, all four of us are bloody well doomed anyway." Kain saw Finn wince, and finally looked him in the face. "And not just doomed, our whole god damn session was Void from the start because we didn't get everyone in, let alone get everyone prototyped in time. And everyone who did, died. So why didn't you and Isis come find me, if we're all destined to die and fade out? Why'd I have to sit alone in the horror-terror infested waking nightmare that was two bloody years of nothing but empty space and the worst things from the back of my mind?!"

"...I don't have an answer for tha--"

"Of course not--"

"--because I couldn't see that far ahead. When our session died, so did my ability to see or do anything beyond the present moment. Everything I've done is fractionally a part of my power, and Isis can only see things that are hard-set in stone. She couldn't see you, and I don't have the power I normally do. I literally first saw you when you were in the courtyard with everyone else."

And with that, a growing, deafening silence loomed before the both of them, burgeoning and bursting at the seams with the tension in the air, holding it together by each man's firm stance and heated tempers. The previous silences had been amicable in equal measure for as much as they felt awkward to Kain, and this was the polar opposite of that, the rift between them viewed as infinite small unspoken microcosms of resentment, guilt, and unsaid words cropped up, more and more, filling that bloated silence. 

Then Kain walked away, breaking the silence and letting every grievance pile up at his feet and letting it cling to his shoulders. "For a writer I fucking suck at communication, huh?" Kain remaked, before striding off the edge of the building and landing on the ground.

The next day...

The air was, as always, tense with anticipation, but Jackie felt something different about this silence that she was exposed to. Kain had come into the shared room late last night, saying nothing and immediately falling asleep on his mattress. The other contestants, too, were mostly gloomy-faced and had bags under their eyes, with few exceptions: the Team Hera and Team Ares folks seemed to be handling things quite well, as well as Team Hades and Team Aphrodite. As she prepped for the day, doing stretches, cleaning herself up, and practicing small cantrips to get the magic flowing -- allowing electricity to jump from thumb to each of her fingers in turn, slowly at first then faster and faster -- she noticed that some teams had bags and belongings slung over their shoulders. 

Her suspicions were confirmed as Teams Athena, Apollo, Artemis, and Poseidon all stood towards the front of the queue in the vestibule and each and every one of them had some form of luggage they were carrying as they spoke to the Master of Ceremonies. Hercules' face went from questioning to surprised to shocked to sad to understanding but still quite upset. As the teams with luggage turned to leave, she heard murmuring break out instantly amongst the other competitors, but Hercules called each of them forward into the stadium itself. 

The stadium today had been cordoned off into two major sections: a smaller 20 square foot fighting arena and a much larger 200 by 50 portion with something wriggling and snarling, snapping and pulling at chains under an immense canvas tarp. Hades himself stood by the tarp, with a smug look of satisfaction on his face as he looked down his hooked nose to his blackened nails, unconcerned with the giant mass behind him.

Hercules turned to address the crowd, his voice somber as he spoke. "My fellow people, hear me! I bring unfortunate news as we have suddenly had to announce the departure of four teams before today's proceedings, being Teams Athena, Apollo, Artemis and Poseidon. We regretfully announce that they have cited stress and an inability to fully commit to the spirit and sportsmanship of the Games, and wish the rest of their fellow competitors the best as they tackle today's challenge head-on. 

"Which brings us to today's match! Today is a double feature: in the Small Ring, we have the strongest as elected by the gods and goddesses of Olympus themselves engaging in an exhibition match to the pain, submission, or so be it, the death, at which the last 3 standing fighters will join the others in the Large Ring." Sweeping a hang to gesture at the large contained beast, Hercules continues, "The rest of the contestants will fight the monster contained within, a special monster from the Underworld provided by our gracious host, Lord Hades! Hades assures that the creature will put up a grand spectacle of a fight, and will be a match for even the strongest of our contestants here today!

"And now, the announcement of those who will be participating in the Small Ring bout! From Team Zeus: Finn O'Leary! From Team Hera: Guenivere of Netherworld! From Ares: Julius Silverdown! From Hades: Shane of the Night! From Aphrodite: Alle Luxenbrom! From Dionysus: Arthur Draxis! From Team Hermes: Kain Galdor! And from Team Hephaestus: Goeiz Timbers!"

Having woken up early to avoid being chased off the rooftop they’d been sleeping on, the late-coming traveler had filed into the arena just before the dawn had broken, only to be chased off by Hades. Maybe overcorrecting so hard on their tardiness that they’d interrupted official event business was not the brightest thing they’d ever done.

In the intervening hours, the ragged young traveler had wandered the streets waiting for the place to open up. On the bright side, they’d taken this chance to purchase a gyro with their little remaining munny, chat with some locals over breakfast, and see a few of Olympus’s scenic vistas.

It was really a breathtaking place, whether one stood above or below the cloud layer. Majestic statues and columns lining the open streets and courts, cool fountains and immaculate greens, it was a fascinating intersection of the works of gods and mankind, at the place both met for the Olympic Games.

Before the wanderer knew it, people were already heading for the grand arena – it was showtime. Weaving through the crowds and sprinting towards the great coliseum, they managed to arrive before things got too crowded.

As Hercules announced the departure of several teams, and the terms of the final event, the stranger leaned forward in their seat, eyes flitting between the remaining contestants. It hadn’t been an elimination-type deal, but it started to feel like one by now.

Unfortunately, whatever had happened in the last round seemed to have cast a slight pall on the audience. The roaring cheers were a bit less than what they’d heard from outside. So, it was only right to do their part and cheer at the top of their lungs! The ambiguous wanderer got to their feet and belted out a boisterous challenge just as their muscle-bound MC finished listing off the Small Ring group.

“LET’S FUCKING GOOOO!”



After he’d spent so much of last night on devising a new technique, Gestalt wasn’t exactly well-rested to begin with. But having woken up in a cold sweat had really put him on edge – he couldn’t exactly remember what had him so tense, either. At least once he received his fully-repaired sword, courtesy of his friends on Team Hephaestus, its familiar weight set him a bit more at ease. Even if they failed to win Lord Hermes’ boon, they’d already made invaluable allies.

Things had been a bit tense at breakfast, too. Dispatch seemed to be in a bad mood since last night’s proposed alliance, and he wasn’t looking any more placated. The night’s sleep had done him no favors in that regard, either.

He had hoped that seeing the mass of contestants would rekindle some of that fire he’d had, but no, it looked like a portion of the teams had gotten out while the getting was good. Logically, he knew that anything that befell them in the Games could be undone, but then, trauma didn’t seem to count. The air was already so thick with tension that one might need a razor to cut it. If it weren’t for his absolute confidence in his teammates, he thought he might consider escaping, too. And the importance of their mission couldn’t be understated, either. He was among those who could not afford to back down.

By that same token, all the remaining teams would naturally be the ones who were either supremely powerful and self-assured, or simply had a wish too important to give up, no matter what. So, everyone they faced would be fighting like the devil was chasing at their heels. If the competition had been fierce before, now it would be an unrelenting maelstrom. His pulse became deafening in his own ears just thinking about what lay ahead, coupled with the strange dread settled in his stomach.

Just fight. Like always. Worry about everything else later.

His heart dropped as he heard the names of the Small Ring contestants. Kain was no lightweight, but he would be vulnerable if he needed to cast any show-stopping spells, something any opponent might capitalize on. Hell, Gestalt’s death in the last round had resulted from him covering Kain. But he couldn’t deny that there was a logic to it; Kain Galdor was certainly in the upper class of power weights here.

Goeiz would also be occupied; both of their teams’ dedicated casters, put into a battle royale. He hoped that between them and perhaps Alle, they’d be able to find a way to break through Arthur’s necrotic aura. Hearing Guenivere’s name, however, sent chills down his spine. He knew she was dangerous, just from seeing her in the first round, and talking to her the other night. If they were selecting her for the bout, that made two people who could effectively kill just by grabbing their opponent. Perhaps it was for the best that it was a pair of powerful wizards, then, in their own corner.

On the bright side, the main groups would actually be competing in more indirect fashion. There would be no more contestants killing each other… hopefully. He planned to watch his own back regardless. Some of the stares in the coliseum still seemed so murderous. It didn’t feel any safer than when they were hurtling around the track trading deathblows.

The small swordsman took a few deep breaths to calm himself. The mountaintop air did a lot to soothe his agitated nerves.



Another figure in the stands peeked out over the crowd, face obscured by a dark hood. Their gaze seemed fixed on the gargantuan beast concealed beneath the tarp. The spectators seemed less ill-at-ease now, as battles with ferocious beasts were actually much closer to the status quo than the previous rounds’ head-to-head competition. Bloodshed was easier to stomach when it was mere beasts, rather than men. However, the hooded figure’s gaze never turned from the writhing mass.

Tabago had already seated himself in the stands as the competitors of the remaining teams trickled into the arena. He hadn't gotten much of a chance to talk to any of them the previous night, much less attempt to sway them. Not that he figured they'd need the help, at any rate. Really, what he needed was a chance to talk to Hades, but the god of the dead was too busy keeping the monster for the main body of fighters pinned down under the tarp. Not that Hades himself was the problem, but Tabago didn't want to be seen associating with him, at least not yet.

Tabago watched on as the Hermes team filtered in. The boy swordsman was as stoic as he'd always been. The girl, to him, appeared a bit nervous, though not unfocused as she listened on with rapt attention to the MC announcing the departure of four of the competing teams. The young wizard's thoughts, on the other hand, looked to be elsewhere, but Tabago neither knew nor cared what might be distracting him. He was too busy watching for Dispatch, who walked in with a strange tension and unusual stiffness to his movements, not to mention an uncharacteristic scowl on his face.

At the mention of the strongest contestants having their own separate fight, the younger Saiyan eased up a bit, his expression turning to a smirk, but he did a double-take when Hercules announced that the representative of Team Hermes was to be Kain Galdor. His attention snapped to Hercules, then flicked over to Kain, then to the smaller ring, then back to Kain, and back to Hercules. His mouth opened, but the only sound that escaped him was a quiet, hoarse scratching sound.

He looked back over at the young robed man, looking him down, then up. Dispatch, of course, knew what the energy boost he'd received yesterday could do, but...stronger than him? ...Really? It seemed...hard to believe, and more than just a little bit. But then again, maybe this guy had some other power he hadn't tapped into yet. He swallowed, and gave Magic Man a quick bump on the shoulder with the heel of his fist.

"...Good luck over there."

Kain was  rapidly doing mental math in his head at the announcement, none of which truly surprised him. Given the nature of the news, and rightly so, many of his fellow competitors were either visibly shaken or affected in some way, and the crowd was no exception. Fortunately, at least in this circumstance, Kain was used to doing this kind of mental math: 

Evaluating the lives of people around him, and determining the most optimal course of action. It was an old habit he'd had from his time before SBURB, before that accursed game had shown up in his life and wrenched everything he'd valued away from him, taught him to value new things, new people, new relationships, and wrenched those away from him again. ...In this timeline, anyway. I need to make sure Aphrodite's team survives. Finn probably won't and can't die here. It's voluntary fighting, but self-defense. Not likely for him to get wiped even if the other 6 ganged up on him. Goeiz might if he pulls that reality-altering stunt from last night. Aphrodite, Hephaestus, Zeus. Well, that's three. Getting Goeiz to agree to defend him is likely pretty easy, since he directly agreed to it. Finn... fuck'em. I'll get Hero to charm him. That leaves Arthur. Straight to the heart. Shut down his brain, too. Guen... a demon? Ghost? Not sure. Seems like I need to starve her? I'll just pull the energy out of her. Shane... probably same. Julius I could just kill too. Arthur, Guen, Shane, Julius, me. In that order. 


Kain was rocked from his reverie by Dispatch speaking directly to him. "You like fighting, right? Sorry I can't sub you in for me. Kick that monster right in the teeth for me, eh?" Kain returned the shoulder-tap in kind, then turned to move to Hero. 

Jackie was chewing on her thumb's fingernail as she took in the information. This was probably to be expected, and while she was glad of the reduction in competition, the gargantuan mass under the tarps did little to set her at ease, and she felt her small breakfast threatening to come back up. She took some deep breaths and got to work feeling some sense of calm. Five things I can see, four that I can touch... She set about putting worry out of her mind, and turned to the others. "We remember that we have free movement from Hermes, right? I think if we take to the sky, or at least try to, then we should be able to maintain some kind of advantage. Gestalt, I saw you manipulating your weapon in space; I don't know if I could pull off the same feat as you but we might need to work that to our advantage. I've been practicing my displacement trick, what other options do we have at the moment?"

Jill spoke first. "I have ways of entangling large beasts in nets of thorns, which might dissuade whatever creature is under that mass to at least pipe down for a moment. I can disrupt the land, flare the sun, and use my own spear in a variety of ways. I suggest with a beast like this to get on its back and attack it where it's least likely to attack us. You had the right of it, flying up and out of its reach, but, remember: if you can't effectively engage with it from a distance, it doesn't matter what you do. You'll simply stare each other down."

"That said, I can protect those of us who need to engage up close and personally, but I'd like to know who all will be making a full frontal assault ahead of time that I might be able to better protect all of you," spoke Renault. "I wouldn't ask that you deplete yourselves at range, and given that they called this a raid yesterday... or so I believe, anyway... then we might be in for a protracted fight and we'll likely need the three victors from the Small Ring in order to finish the fight."

Should I say something? Maybe he doesn't even really need a warning. I guess it should be obvious looking at her that she's a light step, but... The tiny swordsman stalked over to their SBURBan friend. Better said and safe than unsaid and sorry.

Giving Kain a consolatory pat on the shoulder, Gestalt leaned in close to make sure he was heard. "Don't let Guen out of your sight; your ears aren't gonna catch her. Good luck; I'll see you in the Large Ring!"

Joining the circle with his most-affected confidence, he was quick to answer Jackie. "Oh, I plan to make good use of it. Though, my trick is a sort of application of Mage Hand - it took a lot of practice to get right, though, and I don't think you could throw a spear quite the same way; it wouldn't spin end-over-end. But if you need me to, I bet I could redirect your spear mid-air for you - through a dark corridor if need be. Last round was just full of learning experiences for me."

The nerves faded a bit as he focused on discussing their strengths. "I should disclose that I spent a lot of time last night devising a spell to temporarily improve my cutting power, but I didn't have my sword to practice it with, so I don't know how fluidly I can use it in battle. I can get in and out of danger quickly with our blessing, but my best bet for actually laying a beatdown is up close. It'll only take one bad throw for me to lose my sword again, so I'll be sparing with that. I'm aware that it's dangerous to not to fight from a distance, but we're up against a beast - it's not gonna catch me if I slip into the dark at the right time. If I play it too safe, I'll fall behind, and that'll drag the rest of us down."

The thought of being unceremoniously crushed by some giant heaving monster was... discomforting, but he would always have a quick escape, one way or another. Unfortunately, a beast so massive would be difficult to trap - he would strain to open a corridor large enough to engulf one of its limbs, and trying to keep it bound in one would command too much power. Just picturing it gave him a slight headache. He'd be practically pinning himself in place if he did, just asking to be stomped. The only tactics he could think of were straightforwardly slashing at it from blind spots and aiming for joints to disable its movements.

...The thought of anyone else being caught in an inescapable situation and crushed, however, sent a chill down his spine. Funny, in this case, everyone was in danger of being killed nigh instantly, not just him. And they couldn't escape into dark corridors, either. He resolved immediately to try and keep an eye on everyone, just in case they needed a quick save.

Surely the strain of monitoring the entire battlefield, keeping stock of each of his allies, all their rivals, and all the target's movements, as well as preparing spells would be manageable. Whether for better or worse, he wouldn't have time to worry about the Small Ring.



The wanderer's cheers seemed to have little effect on the crowds and less on the competitors, but they carried on, undiscouraged. In between shouts, they snuck more looks at the champions who were sticking around for the last event; many of them fit the bill of 'hero' exactly. Some were a bit shadier, admittedly - some looked downright haunted. One muscled-up monster of a man gave them a gross feeling just looking at him. Something about his aura? He just gave off this sinister vibe. One or two of the others seemed a bit unnatural, too, come to think of it.

Still, it was shaping up to be a good fight. Of course, knowing exactly none of the competitors and not being from the area, the traveler had no idea who to root for. So they began to ask around about everyone else - after all, Zeus was the big man, but who were audiences pulling for? Was it more about the gods they fought under, or the people doing the fighting? And maybe thinking about what got them hyped up would help the audience get into the spirit of the competition.

At the young mage's words, Dispatch's eyes snapped to the writhing creature under the tarp. His previous tension lessened visibly, his smirk reverting to its usual confidence. By the time he looked back, Kain had already moved away, but he chose to respond regardless, mumbling under his breath, "I can give it way more than that."

With that, he turned to the group he'd actually be fighting with. Being named explicitly "not the strongest" definitely still burned, but then again, he still had one big trick up his sleeve. Or he...would have, if he actually had any sleeves. Maybe this could be a chance to show his stuff, or at very least, close the gap between himself and the Chief.

He tuned in on the other discussion and added his own two cents. "I got plenty in the tank for today, and I can deliver from wherever I have to. Close or far doesn't matter, if you can hold it down, I can wipe it out." He cracked his knuckles for emphasis. At his best, he was confident he could take this creature out before anyone from the other ring arrived, but he figured he probably shouldn't say that outright. Plus, he wanted to keep enough of his energy for the finals.

Kain gave a tight, pained, wry smile at the encouragement he received in turn, before strolling over to Hero and Goeiz. Sorry folks, but you'll have to make do without me around over there. His pathos gambit seemed to work on Dispatch, so Kain pushed thoughts of apology and potential resentment later from his mind, convinced that the Saiyan would be satisfied. Strolling closer to his teammates, he leaned in close for a whisper. "Hero, do whatever you need to to keep Finn, the one in a hood like mine, on our side. Charm him, mind-control him, but make sure he's not after the two of you. I'm going to blast down the other competition one at a time. Goeiz, if you can control their movements, I wanna take down Arthur, then Guen, then Shane, then Julius, in that order. Does that work for you?"

Goeiz faltered a moment, but then pressed onward. "That should be fine. What should we do if Finn is unwilling to harm you?"

"I'll have to think of something, but if pressed in a fight I know he's capable of beating me. If you two helped him, well, I'm for sure toast in that regard. Especially if you can pull what you did yesterday."

"And myself? What can I do to keep this fight moving along?" Hero asked, seemingly a little put out that so much was decided without him and was actively working around him. "Should I prioritize anything after I've gotten Finn to help us... or at least, not attack us?"

"Pin down Shane or Julius. If you're good at fighting undead, I think both of them are some kind of vampire, or vampire-adjacent spawn."

"I have the exact toolset to face them on my own, then," Hero declared, puffing his chest up a little. "It should be my pleasure."

---

A flicker of flame from one of the lit braziers flared brightly before coalescing into the form of the mighty Hephaestus, who bore something wrapped in fine silks, his red, scarred form lit from within with the coals of pride and craftsmanship. Team Hephaestus bowed immediately as the god strode forward, handing the bundle to Gestalt. "A request from my own warriors. I appreciate that you've taken to the teamwork of this event at the very least, and so, a gift from me, to you, that we might cement this bond." Inside is a finely-crafted sword, and while it seemed initially unremarkable, the blade shone and glimmered so clearly that it nearly seemed to be a mirror. The wind whistles as it moves through the air, and the edge seemed beyond razor-sharp. "It bears no true special properties as of yet, but that it shall not break, save a sundering bolt from my Father, Zeus, and shall not rust, nor lose its edge, nor fly from thy grasp." Hephaestus chuckled, then guffawed, then belly-laughed loudly. "Truth be told, 'tis truly just the upkeep of a weapon I've spared you from! But no matter: a weapon is a tool best wielded in deadly combat, and I'd have it's christening be nothing else than whatever spawn Uncle Hades has for show!"

Johan nodded, seeming for a moment nearly green with envy at the blade. "I had been the one to request it, after seeing you distraught from losing it yesterday... amongst anything else that may have caused us stress, as it were. Dispatch, Jackie, take to the air once the round starts. We'll cover from the ground, and Jill and Brahaam will capitalize on any openings we can make. Wait for our signal to press or retreat, and whatever happens, if all else fails, discretion and distance will serve us best. Come, it's nearly time for the match to start, and the other teams are nearly finished preparing."

Slightly transfixed by it as he drew forth and inspected the shining blade, Gestalt saw the bright sky reflected in its tranquil surface. It was hard to explain just how it was different - it felt perfect in his hand. It was weighty, but not unwieldy. A natural extension of his body. Almost without meaning to, he gave it a one-handed practice swing, hearing it whistle through the charged air. He could tell it was everything Hephaestus had said, and more.

Gestalt was struck again by how much he'd been depending on others this whole time. Not a single deed had truly been all his own, from when he'd met the others in Traverse Town, to now, fighting in this grand tournament. And he was strangely at peace with this. Was it such a bad thing to have friends he could count on? How much could he have done alone? Even with how fierce the competition was, together, they'd stood strong through it.

Sheathing this newly-reforged blade with a newfound appreciation for his companions, both that of metal and those of man, he fastened it to his belt and bowed to the god Hephaestus. "Thank you - I don't plan on disappointing you, either."

To think, this sword wasn't even mine to begin with - but I'm not going to be returning it now. Not while I've still got a reason to wield it. Sorry, old man.

Stowing errant thoughts of home and returning to the group huddle, he heard Theo explain his role in requesting the repair of his blade. The small swordsman took the bigger man's hand and shook it firmly, a genuine smile of gratitude on his face. "Theo, I owe you. I'll repay you for this someday. Somehow."

Glaring at the concealed creature they were to be pit against, he had an answer to his own earlier question - No, it wasn't so bad to depend on his friends. But only if he could be someone they could rely on, in turn. They had helped each other to reach this stage, and now it was time to pull his weight.

Dispatch cracked his knuckles. "Alright, first things first, when we get the sign, everyone back off, just for a second. I'm gonna come out swingin'."

If he was reading this creature's energy right, he could probably do some real damage with his opening move. Maybe not down it, and that wouldn't be sportsmanlike anyway, but he could definitely take some edge off of it.

The air crackled with anticipation. Hercules strode forward in the Main Ring, twenty paces from the contenders, and nearly one-hundred paces from the giant beast, who was beginning to stir and agitate as time drew on. "Fellow Olympians! Contestants of might and magic, bravery, courage, and daring from all over! This will commence the third round, after which the top 4 paired teams will be the only ones to continue on! Following the departure of many teams this morning, I can only applaud your own tenacity and willingness to overcome. With that being said, here is how scoring will work!

"In addition to the usual teamwork and sportsmanship, we have been given several targets for each of you to aim for! Destruction of a horn warrants 3 points! Shattering teeth and claws is 2 points! Complete destruction of the eyes is also two points! Removal of limbs is 5 points! Beheading is a whopping 10 points! And whomever lands the final, killing blow, as determined by Lord Hades himself at the moment of death, is awarded 20 points, with there being no upper limit on the amount of points a team can earn!"

With that, Hercules began striding towards the Small Ring, where the remaining contestants lined up to face each other. The warriors hardly acknowledged him, save for Kain and Finn, who openly turned to face Hercules. "Contestants of the Small Ring! You are the mightiest we have seen in some time, and as such, in order to promote fairness in this competition, we have arranged a battle royale between yourselves, at which only 3 at most will be permitted to leave! You may use any tactics within the rules and guidelines necessary to achieve this goal. Scoring is simple: survival is worth 5 points. You may immediately join once 3 survivors are left, and at which point, you may not attack or harm the other contestants. This is about group survival, for all gathered!"

"And with that, my beautiful future patrons..." Hades roared out, "Let the Games... BEGIN!"

And with a flourish, the monster was revealed. A truly gargantuan creature, it had been shackled firmly and flush to the ground, and stood, on all fours, at a staggering 25 feet high at it's shoulder at minimum. The beast's fur seemed to be made of a rock-like material, and sported massive greatsword-sized claws at the end of it's four limbs. It's purple hide belied the raw form of muscle, and rising up was it's head, the strange, tri-horned head of what initially appeared to be something like a cat, or perhaps a goat, but it was difficult to say. The creature stood, roaring loudly enough to shake the air, that it could be felt pulling the skin back of the contestants, as energy gathered at the 3 tips of its horns, and immediately, the moment it was free, launched lightning bolts skittering and scraping across the arena in dizzying patterns and displays of uncontrollable speed and precision.

The last thing anyone would care to note amongst this ferocity would be the heart-like insignia emblazoned upon it's chest, with scars across the lower portion which tapered into a club or some vestigial appendage of sorts.

Dispatch's smirk opened into a lopsided grin. Some big, hulking monster wouldn't have been a match for him by himself, let alone with a ton of other strong fighters backing him up. He sprung from his standing position up into the air, a golden light encasing his hand, closing the gap between himself and the creature in one bound.

"HAAAAA!" he roared, thrusting his hand forwards. The light erupted from his palm with a blast as tall as he was, and for a second he didn't need to spend his own energy to stay aloft.
---
Tabago paid the match little attention. The boy could handle himself, and while he would have liked to watch, he had more pressing concerns. Quietly, he stood up as Hades revealed the creature, taking the moment when no focus would be on the stands to begin walking towards him.

He had seen Hades before, albeit only in passing, but it was enough to know that the Lord of the Dead was likely more informed than he. But Tabago had little sense of the god's temperament. He'd need to be careful of his words, but he also needed more information; the witch had told him the general plan, but she hardly expected a Saiyan to walk around socializing when there was fighting to be done.

As Tabago approached the god, a chill pervaded the air, in sharp contrast to the flames atop his head. It was a presence that would have terrified most men, but a Saiyan had to know better than to be cowed by just standing beside someone. "Lord Hades, I request an audience," said Tabago. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed that all eyes were still on the Behemoth, and for just a moment, black waves rolled off of him before vanishing into the morning sun. "A private audience."

That emblem is the mark of the Heartless, isn't it? I don't like this.


Seeing Dispatch swiftly moving in and delivering an incredible burst of damage, Gestalt suddenly crouched down, tapping into the blessing of Hermes as he leapt almost straight up, clearing the whole arena and soaring far above the stands. The dark creature would be reeling long enough that he could escape its attention entirely with ease - from above, he would have a moment to observe everything below as he prepared his strike. The swordsman unsheathed his blade, the metal humming as he began to channel the spell.

From above, everything seemed so small. Larger-than-life heroes were just as tiny as the people lining the crowd. The target was a fearsome monster of darkness, but even that was just an inky blotch on the ring, a stain. Everything was so peaceful up here. But even then, invisible air currents twisted and swirled, forming the patterns of weather that controlled the land below. It was only so peaceful until a storm would roll in, right?

He shook his head free of those thoughts - this was no time to get distracted by idle musings. Suddenly, the air began to feel a bit colder, the illusion of calm cracking as the chill seeped into his body. Gestalt was, after all, no bigger than the people below. He wasn't a part of the vast sky, merely a tiny mortal.

So, he began to descend.

With the roar in the Big Ring signaling the start of the fight of a large number of lives, a delicate, intimate dance with death commenced in a flash, time dilating outward and then crunching  again. All the contestants braced, but Kain and Finn were the first to act. Finn tore forward, slipping through the stream of time to arrive at a new place at the same time as his departure. Even as Arthur prepared even heretofore unseen and unprecedented necrotic energy, enough to slough off the plating of an adamantium golem, it mattered not when one was immune to the exposure of time. A cane produced in a flash reveals a hidden sword, which itself decorates Arthur's chest with blossoms of red, before his skull descends and caresses the earth. 

Kain, for his part, threw all the energy he had pent up and held onto for the last hour and dumped what he could spare into the other two. This was both a blessing, and his ultimate curse.

As no one had truly ascertained the true nature of Guenivere's power, it was assumed that perhaps she devoured souls or absorbed some form of mana or ether. Not the case. Her fuel was pure heat, and had the best exchange rate when it came to the body heat of humans and demons. And Kain was positively radiating the stuff, dispensing pure energy through the Maxwell's demon principle. With an ethereal flash, she latched onto his body, and with an unsightly grin that exposed long, pincer-like fangs, she bit deeply into his shoulder. Kain's gambit to burn her off, by increasing his own heat to the temperature of magma, backfired, and in another flash, she herself began to glow white and ghostly, fully transparent yet too bright to look at directly. Kain's blood drained from his shoulder, a rainbow of ichor, as he turned to face Goeiz, a plea across his face. I fucked up. The whole order is wrong. Save Hero, I'm dead already. Kain then turned to Guen and began to siphon the energy back.

Hero could barely take in what happened as he summoned the words he needed to his lips. "Queen Aphrodite, grant me the power of kinship with another, that we might make peace, not warfare!" The air shook visibly, the pink spectre of love and companionship blinking into existence before him, and following his gaze. With a gentle smile, the goddess blew a gentle kiss to the calm visage of Finn O'Leary, whose face slackened further in response. Hero pointed towards Shane, and then turned towards Julius himself. The two undead balked at first, but then steeled themselves for the onslaught. 

And for the Big Arena, it would be an understatement to say that the sheer scale did not rival the complexity of the Small Ring's engagement. Combatants threw what they could, dodging the falling darkness from the Behemoth, the tracing, tracking, crackling lighting bolts and the stomping of the hooves and gnashing of teeth. The creature bellowed, and even Dispatch's attack only seemed to singe the fur and bruise or burn the skin, which began to rapidly squirm and liquefy, before healing over in moments. Renault drew Vorpal, cleaving into the monster, even as Jill successfully locked the creatures movements that it could not remove its feet from the earth, and seemed to be slowed and hampered. Jackie drew upon the lightning in her body, drawing it up from the stomach, past the heart, and into her fingertips, and began zipping back and forth from leg to leg, attempting to hamstring each long enough to weaken the beast.

Renault yelled over to Jill, "Do we call upon our boon now?! If not now, when?!"

"No! Not until the last moment! We cannot without Goeiz, nor can we expend it at this point!"

Gestalt's single-minded focus on his strike evaporated as, first, a bolt of lightning seared past, followed by many more. It was far enough away that it did not arc through his body - being suspended in the air, this would have certainly killed him had it made contact. Perhaps the only thing that saved him was his positioning. The beast did not call any lightning down upon its own body, naturally, and he was directly above that one dead zone.

Second, he realized that Dispatch's opening strike had done relatively little. It had been a foolish assumption, thinking that he was better off aiming a devastating strike and hoping to land a critical blow before the beast was brought quickly to heel. If he failed to completely sever a body part, then it would prove only a momentary distraction to the massive Heartless. This plan wouldn't work.

So, to come up with a new plan as he hurtled towards the creature. He could aim to disable a limb, or break a claw or fang for points. Limbs seemed like the best option, but the most difficult. The thing to do now was obtain information on the creature's vulnerabilities and degree of resilience. So he set his sights on one of its paws. He had an image of how he wanted this to go in his mind, but the thought of how it could go wrong chilled him to the bone. But wasting time meant falling behind. And he couldn't let that happen.

Diving straight down, he opened a corridor just above the behemoth's body, hurtling into it, and emerging beneath the monster's belly, transferring all the kinetic energy he could into a slash aimed at a toe on one of the hind paws. He couldn't spare any focus on using magic to improve his cutting power, however - staying alive took precedence right now. This done, he rolled out of the way, taking care to avoid getting a stomping for his trouble.

Hades turned to the Saiyan, a smirk crawling over his lips. With a shrug, he produces a shimmering cloak of darkness, and drapes it over Tabago. Though a veil of smoke covers him, it's not thick, and doesn't impede his breathing. "Forgive the caution, big guy, but it wouldn't do to have conspirators broadly out and about even like this, eh? What can I do you for?"

Should the Saiyan protest, Hades would chuckle coldly and murmur to Tabago, "Trust me, the Oracle at Delphi herself wouldn't be able to see me or Thanatos nor even the most common of men if they came for her like a knife in the dark. Zeus couldn't hit the broadside of a barn in here, even if it was the most gorgeous woman this side of the Euphrates. What you say under there? Between you and god, buddy."

Tabago took a moment to consider the strange material, light as air, yet with no effects on his own vision. He couldn't gauge whether Hades was telling the truth, but doubting his words would do no good.

"I see. So, I understand you're engaged with the witch's plan to create a Heartless here. I'm told I have a part to play in this, but I haven't been asked to do anything. A Saiyan is supposed to fight, Lord Hades, it's what we live for. And while I'm no sheep who can't function without instruction, I'm uncertain what the end goal is. Both here at the Colosseum and in general." Though uncertain whether Hades could even see him, Tabago folded his arms. "My question is, what do we stand to gain from this, and what's expected of me in order to get it?"


Dispatch blinked in surprise. The behemoth hadn't even staggered - he'd expected to at least pause it with a blast that size. This might actually be fun.


As the creature thrashed about, Dispatch weaved around its tusks, looking for a sense of where to strike. A bolt of lightning cut off his path, one he swerved around, drawing his sword as he went. Of course, if he focused too much on dodging, he wouldn't be able to strike, and he had to be one of the harder hitters in the large ring. He needed to get something done. So with that, he descended, bounding forward as he touched the ground and aiming to slice at the creature's chest.

Feeling that the Heartless was likely to swipe at him, Gestalt zipped back a fair distance - further than he estimated the monster's claw would reach without the whole thing lurching towards him. It occurred to him that, if this were a purely cooperative effort, he could've acted as a decoy, drawing the beast's attention onto himself and aggravating it while others concentrating on capitalizing on openings. But that would give everyone that advantage, and leave his own team effectively down one attacker.

Besides, it seemed like they were waiting for the battle in the Small Ring to conclude before going all-in. He grit his teeth a little tighter, the corners of his mouth dropping just a little. No, that's no excuse. Perhaps I'm looking at this in terms of black and white.


Launching himself up and forward at a low angle, he aimed to rip through the behemoth's flank with his sword, calling upon the magic just as the blade was about to make contact. It wasn't full effectiveness, but it would increase the force of his attack without completely compromising his ability to react. Every edge he could get was going to be crucial.

With this done, he landed on the creature's lurching back, running up to one of the horns and giving it a quick slash to gauge its toughness. This was a creature of darkness, but there was still a difference between attacking flesh and attacking bone. He himself was more equipped for the former. However, he thought, Dispatch's attack might've been less ineffective if performed on something more rigid and breakable...

"Functional and simple questions from a Spartan warrior! Well, Saiyan, as I understand it, but still, the lack of frills brings them readily to mind." Hades was rather nonchalant in his reply, keeping his gaze focused largely on the battle unfolding in the Big Ring. He winced slightly as Gestalt managed to cut through a toe of the great Behemoth he'd brought out from Tartarus on special order from Lady Echidna,  no small task. While the creature was made of darkness, it wasn't particularly resistant to the stuff, and a blade from Hephaestus wasn't liable to snap and break except under the most extreme circumstances by the Fates' design.

Leaning towards Tabago, he continued speaking. "Your job is relatively simple, but it's gonna make you grit your teeth a bit. Tomorrow, we're going to be making Big Man Z himself fall asleep during the finals, and we're going to be turning him into one of them. A lot of the folks here are goody two-shoes, but a lot of them have died already and made agreements with me to stop the do-gooders once that starts going down. Anyone who tries to interfere? You give them the classic Saiyan treatment, full stop, the works. Echidna will show up at the appropriate time to tame the resulting monster, but we need it to attack the heart of the world, suffusing it into darkness, bringing more heartless, which we'll be leading against other worlds in a charge to get to something real special." Hades almost clapped at the cut Dispatch made, causing the creature to leak more black goo before its healing factor started stitching the wound back together. 

Two teams pressed the advantage being under the massive Behemoth seemed to present, emboldened by the apparent success Dispatch and Gestalt had been having. Xile of Team Ares along with Jasper and Orlando of Team Hades  ran under the beast, narrowly avoiding electrocution from a stray splitting bolt as they ducked for cover. Xile waved his hand once, and flipped head over heels in reverse, landing standing upright on the beast's stomach. Pulling a sword from the dark, he ran along the sternum towards a front leg, as Orlando crafted sonic javelins to stab into the wound Dispatch had left. Jasper was mid-jump, longswords drawn, as the beast quivered and quaked. 

Itch, from Team Dionysus, noticed Renault's proximity to the beast and dove at him, grabbing him under the armpits and sliding with him away from the beast, as Thraugg from the same team engulfed himself in fire and launched himself with jets of flame upwards and away from the beast. While Jill's enchantment prevented the beast from raising it's limbs, it could still move them along the ground, and the beast flattened it's chest against the earth. Naught but stains of the three warriors remained underneath the beast, crimson stains against the sands. Jackie blanched, reacting just in time to redirect a bolt of lightning headed for her. Gunner Enos, on the far side of the beast, turned at the shouting of Shin, pausing just long enough that a bolt struck him. While no contestants on Jackie's side of the monster could see him, all could hear the scream that split the air from Enos, Shin, and Evelyn, followed shortly by rancid smells and gurgling. 

Jackie pumped a full Thundaga into her spear, chucking the polearm towards the side of the creature's head. The spear embedded itself with a sizzling explosion of electrical energy, and Jackie used her new technique to zip to her spear. Holding onto it as a support, she flipped up, landed on her spear, and then jammed her fist, laden with more electrical energy, into the Behemoth's eye, left hooks raining down as Jackie screamed herself bloody hoarse.

Thraugg, in that moment, took hold of one of the Behemoth's horns, his fiery fist now molten rock, and began hammering at the base of it. Electricity surged through him, burning his insides, and nearly shutting down his brain. His fingers began to melt from the fingernail down, but he kept hammering twice more and was rewarded with both the dislodging of a horn severing and a sudden burst of electricity as the conduit for the energy suddenly left no resistance, blasting Thraugg to the ground in a molten crisp. 

As Renault and Jill recovered, looking around for Dispatch and Gestalt, another shower of dark orbs began falling down. Seeing the pattern, Brahaam resolutely takes a deep breath, then plunges his eight fingers into his sternum, and for a moment, he begins to take on features of a dragon, his face contorting, distending, and his skin sliding to reveal scaled muscles. Leaping into the air, he seemingly soars for a moment, before elbowing the orbs to the ground away from his allies. "Go! I have no time!" Itch and Renault nod, running to the beast's hindquarters for cover. Brahaam continues to leap into the air, batting away the balls of dark even as each strike removes a part of his body, and finally he collapses to the ground, too close to the beast, as it struggles to stand once more. A tin can before a mighty steam engine, a claw rakes over where Brahaam has knelt, leaving a smear in its wake as it finally stands and roars again.

[Small Ring update to come tomorrow.]

Tabago turned a grim eye towards the large ring, and to the carnage that grew steadily within. "Hmph. The way things are going, that might not turn out all that difficult."

Still, he kept his eyes trained on the chaos, as his once-younger comrade seemed to have vanished. It wasn't like a Saiyan to be sentimental, but they'd worked together for quite some time; he was a good kid, and talented.

A burst of wind scattered the dust cloud that had gathered in the arena, revealing Dispatch, a few stray splatters of blood streaking across his arms and face, but seemingly unharmed. His allies' blood, then, no doubt. Twice, he swung his sword at the air, sending shockwaves of energy towards the beast. In that moment, his eyes widened slightly as he saw the monster's horn dislodge, and for a moment, he seemed to disappear, before reappearing on the Behemoth's head, slashing at the base where its horn had once been.

Tabago couldn't suppress a smile, watching the boy-turned-man fight one of the stronger known Heartless without heed to the destruction that raged around them. "Then again, depending on who survives, I might have my work cut out for me. Guess that depends on what happens in the Small Ring."

As he spoke, he turned his gaze towards the ring that housed the fighters the tournament staff had deemed the strongest, curious to see just what he'd be up against in the coming battle.

Kain was having a real rough go of it. The function by which he'd managed to achieve the feats of sheer power was overthrown in an instant, as Guen began to transform fully into her spectral form. Guenivere herself was capable of much, but had never been so enabled by the mechanism which fueled her capabilities. A ghost in a world of cold demons, lone wolves, and outcasts, she had been starved for both company and warmth. Yes, that warmth which had drawn her to Enos, Shin, and Evelyn. A little family, held together with hopes and promises of a better tomorrow. Hope was all she had.

And much like her own power, she knew Hope truly belonged locked tight in Pandora's Box. 

With a final surge of power, she cast Kain to the floor, who tumbled and groaned. Finn's eyes flicked to Kain for but a moment, before latching back onto Shane and Julius. A single step forward, and Shane burst into a cloud of bats, dispersing around the Small Ring. Finn's eyes never lost their lock on Julius, who kept his head held high, matching the gaze of the time god as Julius pulled his scythe from his back. He settled into a low stance, the chittering of bats deafening his ears. Would that his heart still beat, it would be drowned out in turn by the pounding of blood in his head. 

"God of War, grant me equal footing with this man, that we might delight you with combat unparalleled." Julius spoke quickly, and quietly, and in a flash, a red aura surrounded him. Julius nearly recoiled at first as his singular vision split once, twice, four times, and on and on, the information never overwhelming him, but coming to him naturally. He felt his reflexes and thoughts take on speeds he'd never have been able to comprehend, even if his vampiric blood had let him live for an eon. Julius grinned, knowing Finn truly belonged here in the Small Ring, and charged forward, coasting on time's riverbank, not quite disappearing into it, but skirting the edge. Finn braced, and both cane-sword and cane-sheath rose to meet the scythe.

In the next instant, they clashed again, Julius using both blade and shaft to block two strikes from Finn, high and low. Again. And again. Blows struck at speeds and forces so great the air thrummed around them, and no one could approach. Kain felt the thrums and tried to crawl away, but felt himself being pushed by Goeiz, who had constructed a barrier of light and shadow around him and Hero, who was still focusing on Finn with fuchsia eyes. Kain started to stand up, forcing heat into his shoulder to cauterize the wound, before being grabbed at the shoulder and hoisted up by a being of pure light. Guenivere, in her radiant new form, stared into Kain's eyes with something between pitying adoration and contempt on her face. "Be still, young man, for you will shortly learn the truth of assimilation." Her voice wavered, layered with alto and bass, heavenly and hellish, as she spoke with a lilt. "Join me." 

As Guen unhinged her jaw to reveal ghastly teeth once more, the last thing Kain saw was pure light, enough to wash away all.

Moments before the creature slammed itself into the earth, Gestalt felt it begin to move. He was crouched upon its back, and not particularly in harm's way, but believed it was unwise to stay still. Leaping further behind the creature, he caught sight of movement from between its hind legs. The small swordsman recognized two of the fighters who'd slipped below the titanic Heartless - contestants he'd spoken to before. Broke bread with them, even.

To hell with the competition. To hell with this resurrection nonsense. Acting on impulse, he reached out a hand, creating a corridor of darkness beneath Jasper and Orlando. At this distance, with so much going on, he wasn't sure of how precise he could be, but it should've been big enough to let at least two people in... perhaps. They wouldn't be able to leave the space they'd been let into, but better than being a bloody mess.

He felt the chill in his body deepen as he heard the terrible crunching, splattering of bodies beneath the monster's girth. He couldn't be sure he'd saved even one of them, actually. There was no time to open it up and check on them. And if he himself died, they'd simply be trapped in darkness forever.

Further unsettling him was the painful light from the small ring. Whatever was happening there, it was some serious shit. But he refused to focus on what, ultimately, he could do nothing about.

Rolling to the side, he narrowly escaped an arc of electricity; after what Dispatch and the late Thraugg had done to its skull, its magic seemed to have become more erratic. No doubt it was in pain, and would only grow more aggressive as the fight went on. At this point, he was beginning to feel a sort of numbness to the horror. This... thing... had already amassed perhaps a higher body count than any single contestant. His paralyzing fear was strong, yes, but a new feeling had begun to overtake it. Unmitigated disgust. The sound of blood in his ears began to grow louder.

No, stay calm. One mistake and it's over. Quickly analyze its methods of attack, find an opening, and strike. Hard.

While he was able to contain himself, the growing sensations wouldn't go away. It was all he could do to keep them from rising and consuming his rationality. Sprinting around the creature at a safe distance, never coming too close, he leapt and wove between chaotic bursts of lightning. Stopping on a dime, he narrowly missed running right into a ball of darkness as it impacted the earth. The blast sent him tumbling back, his ears ringing. By the time he'd recovered, pulled himself onto one knee, he was staring into Brahaam's face, an instant before it was crushed.

Too late to return the favor and save him. Still, futilely, he reached out and opened another portal where the man had been breathing less than a second earlier. There was no time to cry over lot comrades, who would be restored to life regardless, but knowing how close he'd been... it ached.

Hades winced at some of the deaths for dramatics, then murmured under his breath to Tabago, "No need to worry about the Small Ring competitors. Most of those teams are already on board. They'll be reminded of their agreement at an opportune time, so anything they can't deal with is on you. So relax! Unless your co-workers botch everything royally, there's less riding on you than you might think. And when I finally get dominion of the sky...! Let alone that heartless, that's going to be a beaut!" Hades' eyes lit up and his hair rose in agitation, the flames roiling and betraying the slightest hint of his mental agitation.

Jackie, in a fervor from seeing Thraugg get punished and in a desperate state and a tight situation, resorted to desperate measures. The lightning was like any other that she'd trained with, just in higher amounts. Training these last few days and having Kain dump energy into her, however, gave her an idea of the limits she could handle. Before, she was a riverbed. Now, with newfound heights, she understood she was a pond. Her reservoir seemed deep at first, but compared to what she'd seen, she was a pond. The excess would run off, and she could direct that into what she knew to truly be the river. Murmuring a fervent prayer to Lord Hermes, her feet stood upon the empty air. She pulled her spear free. Looking the beast in its damaged eyes, she planted her speartip where the horn once was. The electricity rushed through her, upriver, scouring for the pond. She directed the river around the pond's edge. Guiding, enticing, and then forcing. Yet never the twain shall meet. Back out, from her outstretched arm, purple lightning mixing with her own red. The beast roars and rages, smashing its head down onto the ground, its eyes gouged and burnt. While they seemed to attempt to be healing over as many other wounds had, these looked terrible, even for the beast. Jackie heaved from above, panting in the air.

Next to Gestalt, two figures arrived, a woman in clerical robes with long red hair setting a badly injured swordsman on the ground. Not taking her eyes off her own charge, her hands alighting with a lime-green healing glow, she spoke in a hurried, breathless tone. "What do we do? Do you have any plan at all?" Her voice was almost steady, but the distinct note of hysteria clung to her words, and threatened to shatter her composure. "We're not going to last until Small Ring is done. Just tell us what to do!"

Theodore Renault disobeyed not only his instincts, but his typical fighting candor, seeing Brahaam reduced to paste. He charged at the Behemoth, swinging twice at his sides to propel him forward, leaping at the left haunch. Hilt and pommel grasped and ready to plunge down, Vorpal shone brightly in anticipation, then drank deep. Wrenching, pushing, Theodore marched. Dragging his blade, he carved through the beast's flesh and muscle, tendon and bone. Ooze flew from the wound, almost aggressively. The sight was grisly, the stench wretched. Still he pushed onwards, until the beast heaved and kicked him back 20 feet through the air. He would have impacted, but Itch, erstwhile companion, appeared in a flash of his robes, setting Theo down near Evelyn and Shin. 

"Whatever needs to be done, must needs be done soon," Itch said calmly, and without blame in his voice. "I cannot kill the beast, but I will slow him down. Think. Feel. Listen to your instincts. I trust you all."

With a resolute stare, Itch took the same stance Brahaam did, then plunged his fingers deep into his chest. Instead of bleeding, however, Itch's body began to transform, glowing from within. His head cracked and shattered, elongating into a snout, as his skin shed and revealed dragon scales. Within moments, he had shed his humanity and stood on two legs, a proud dragon. With a burst of movement, wings sprouted from his back. 

Without even crouching, Itch leapt, sundering the eath under him. He grasped the Behemoth by the neck, and with a mighty lurch, flipped the beast onto its back in one mighty movement.

Goeiz looked upon Guen and knew she was of the same ilk he was trained to destroy. A wretched being anomalous to reality and nature, an aberration of concept and design. In her shimmering form, Guen turned around. Where her body touched the flying bats, they disappeared into shimmering, shining glimmers, and fused with her mass. 

Julius and Finn were out of time. An irony deep enough to scar the fabric of reality, Finn as an Ace of Time had few outs to the situation, and even his own dominion could not entirely prevent the mind control he was under. An eightfold slash across theories collided against a scythe of indeterminate cause and effect. Actions untaken and unperceived were given sudden clarity as to their location, and impossible to track strikes occurred with pristine timing. Schroedinger himself could not have imagined the sheer scale of micro-actions and nano-decisions taking root in every second of existence. 

Yet Julius and Finn were witness to it all. The two fighters swung, clashed, and parried, faster and faster, til their bones shattered. Until their muscles bruised from each impact. Until their flesh ripped and peeled from the wind resistance. Yet even as two mighty gods duked it out, and the devil we believed wasn't real smiled down over them, looming with evil intent, one man stepped forward. His place was earned in the Small Ring not due to his legendary, otherworldly power, but from the great deeds a good man was capable of, and the power that gave him. Drawing upon a blade, his heart begins to glow with a pale light, spreading visibly through his veins up through his sword arm, pumping with his blood, forming a new blade sheathed in light. Julius, aware of what came next, knowing that failure to keep Finn locked in place would mean he met the same end. So instead, he chooses to maintain his duel. Hero thrusts his blade forward, piercing the heart of Julius, and in the next instant, Finn bisects each and every bat. 

With a click, the barrier around the Small Ring unlocks. And Hero finds a blade planted equally deep in his chest.