Warning: unknown situation developing in Hangar #72. Area has been designated as an Extreme Hazard Zone, and personnel are required to evacuate immediately. Customers are not permitted to enter this area.

Contracted security have already been notified of the situation.

Note that situations such as this are accounted for in your employee contracts. As such, employees are not entitled to bonuses or overtime under these circumstances.

Security Notice, Rowdy Rod's Cheap and Clean Hangar Space

Some Time Ago…

“T█is,” the girl said, holding the sword out. “...is Luminescence. Do █ou kno█ it?”

Atoy Muzazi shook his head, blinking blearily. The whole world was black spots, scenery disintegrating into nothingness, memories turning to dust even as they reoccurred. The only thing clear was the shining blade the girl was holding out, like a line of light piercing the darkness. She held it flat on the palms of her hands, full of reverence.

“It’s go█d that you don’t know it,” she continued quietly. “It’s ██st be█n made. If you’█ said ot███wise, you’d be █ liar -- or w█rse, wrong. █o you k██w what it is?”

Muzazi’s throat was deathly dry, like he’d just woken up from a coffin. “It’s a sword,” he rasped.

The girl hopped up and down in place, her excitement leaking into her movements. “Yes! Very good!” She turned her head to look at a patch of nothingness. “You see, ████a█?! I told you! █ t█ld you!”

“██ ██ █████████ ███████?”

Nothingness engulfed the scene for a moment, everything collapsing, before suddenly reasserting itself.

“Now, Muzazi,” the girl said, looking up at him. “Remember this. You must never lose this sword, okay? If you do…”

She grinned.

“...you’ll ███!”

The Radiant sliced through the metal wall as Muzazi waved it through the air, the sheer heat of the Aetherblade making it as soft as butter. Thrusters, still pouring from the soles of Muzazi’s boots, kept him aloft -- as he looked down at Jean Lyons.

The Director of the GID looked back up at him, eyes narrowed, but the direction of his gaze had already betrayed him. He’d glanced with clear concern at the burning seam Muzazi had left in the wall. That alone confirmed that Muzazi was on the right track.

Jean Lyons had no reason to fear physical attacks that relied on speed and blunt damage. But the Radiant Muzazi had conjured was incredibly hot. If it made contact with Lyons, no matter how slowly it was moving, it would surely burn him. If it was moving so slowly, it would probably be even more painful anyway.

All that remained, then, was to close the distance and strike… which was easier said than done.

The moment of thought passed, and Jean Lyons attacked.

Force exploded out of the top of his weapon as he fired a pushing blast at Muzazi's position. Lyons had said that five percent would be sufficient to eliminate him, but there was no reason to believe that charlatan's words. Muzazi had already decided to operate under the belief that he was using more than that -- perhaps even one-hundred percent of his capability.

Muzazi would respond appropriately.

When Lyons had used that shockwave to shatter the crates crushing him, he'd blown pieces of them all across the room -- but those pieces still had inactive thruster points on them. Muzazi activated those on the closest, largest chunk of metal, and had them fly up to him, lightning-fast.

The impromptu barrier appeared in front of Muzazi before the blast of force could reach him. He planted his feet against it as he felt the blast pummel into it, countless dents erupting over its surface. His white Aether moved through his feet and into the metal, strengthening it, while more thrusters helped it push against the blast of force.

The metal plate shook beneath his fist, and it was all his Aether could do to prevent it from shattering entirely. For the time being, he dispelled his Radiant, focusing entirely on defense.

A roar of exertion poured from his throat as he continued to resist.

The thrusters firing out of the back of the metal continued to grow, steam pouring from them and flooding nearly half the room. The barrier hung still in the air, stabilized between Lyons' attack and Muzazi's defense. If he could just keep it there, keep it still, for just a few moments longer…

…for just the tiniest opportunity…

…he would win.

Five percent.

Ten percent.

Fifteen percent.

Lyons steadily increased the output rate of his attack, but Atoy Muzazi continued to match him when it came to his defense. If nothing else, he was skilled at keeping still. Lyons would give him that.

The room shook as the force of the attack radiated out. Tiny bits of dust and concrete began to rain down from the ceiling, coating everything in a thin coat of grey. It hung in a haze around Lyons, falling incredibly slowly as it came into his range.

How long did he have until security arrived? He'd chosen this unit because it was as far away from the security offices as possible, and he'd already tampered with surveillance, but even so someone would respond to this noise before long. Eliminating witnesses would take time, too -- time he didn't have.

His ultimate goal was to launch the shuttle and get the cylinder to the ELIZA. He had to remember that. Anything else was a meaningless distraction. This idiot had already unforgivably ruined his schedule.

Something gave.

Lyons' attack finally overpowered the barrier, and jagged cracks began to spread across its surface. In the end, Atoy Muzazi simply had not been sufficient. Lyons allowed himself the slightest smirk, until…

…he thought the tiniest bit deeper about the phenomenon before him.

Until now, Muzazi had been able to match his attack with his own power, so why had that changed? Had he simply given up, or had his willpower finally drained away? Jean Lyons wasn't optimistic enough to accept those kinds of answers.

No. This stank of a trick.

He realized it just in time, leaping out of the way as Muzazi suddenly appeared from his blind spot, slashing that sword of light directly at his face. Lyons all but managed to dodge, but he felt torturous heat brush against the side of his cheek, pain flaring through his brain for a moment before eerily cutting off.

He understood.

Muzazi had used the steam created by his thrusters as a smokescreen, continuing to hold the metal in place while he circled around for a sneak attack. The metal had weakened because Muzazi was no longer there to infuse his Aether into it directly. If Lyons hadn't realized at the last moment, that could have been a mortal wound.

But he had realized -- because it took more than that to kill Qillian Qillioph.

It had been a while since he'd had to go all out. It was somewhat nostalgic… a reminder of his younger days, slaughtering his way across the battlefield -- until he'd seen the Supreme in full bloom, and understood what true power was.

Jean landed on the shattered floor, dispelled his club, and immediately thrust his palm towards the incoming Muzazi.

One-hundred percent.

The air exploded.

The air exploded -- but it did not reach Atoy Muzazi.

Lyons had been off the battlefield for too long. He'd forgotten how to watch his footing. The chunk of the floor he'd landed on was dangerously unstable -- but more importantly, it was where Muzazi had been standing earlier.

A thruster burst into life on the underside of the floor, tilting it upwards -- and Lyons with it. The blast he'd released went flying vertically instead of horizontally, striking the ceiling and puncturing it like a needle with a balloon.

Muzazi did not stop to look. He could not waste the opportunity. He darted towards Lyons as debris rained down around them, the two of them rushing through the room in an effort to avoid the collapsing concrete. He weaved and bobbed through stone and metal, and Jean Lyons did the same -- even as they dodged, however, their eyes were fixed squarely on each other. Muzazi slashed with his Radiant again and again, but Lyons avoided each blow, the slowing field around him giving time for every attack to just barely miss.

Lyons held his palm up once more in a moment's opportunity -- another full-strength attack was coming.

It would not reach him. He wouldn't permit it.

Muzazi activated the thrusters on the floor beneath himself, using it like a springboard to launch himself into the air. Just like Lyons, he'd dodged at the last possible moment.

The blast erupted below him, shaking the air itself -- and, at the same time, it lightly grazed Muzazi's right foot.

Muzazi screamed. Wrenching pain flooded through his body as the foot was twisted one-hundred and eighty degrees by the impact, blood dribbling copiously from his ankle. For a moment, he thought he'd fall unconscious entirely from the agony -- but no. He forced himself into existence, gritting his teeth so hard it felt as if they'd shatter.

As Muzazi flew through the air, Lyons raised his hand up, ready to fire another blast. Muzazi knew he couldn't dodge as he was right now.

Thrusters -- move!

Thrusters flared into life on chunks of concrete all around Lyons, and they came together in another attempt to crush his body between them. He scoffed, lowering his hand, his gaze instead moving to the incoming slabs.

Bang.

The chunks of concrete shattered into clouds of dust, flying off in every direction from the shockwave. Muzazi took the opportunity provided by the smokescreen and rushed in, his Radiant pointed directly in front of him as he propelled himself right at Lyons.

However, in the end, he was not fast enough.

With horrifying grace and fluidity, like a nightmare, Lyons smoothly raised his hand and pointed it at Muzazi just as the swordsman was about to reach his position. That deadly palm was mere inches away from Muzazi's forehead, ready to smash his skull into paste. There was no avoiding it. The idea of blocking it was a bad joke.

Atoy Muzazi accepted that he was about to die…

…and, as a result, was quite surprised when he did not.

Lyons' eyes widened.

Jean's eyes widened. He'd run out of power? Shit!

He dodged with all the speed and strength his body could muster, throwing himself to the floor as Muzazi sailed over him. Immediately, he transitioned into a roll, allowing himself to avoid the second slash aimed for his face.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. It made sense his well of energy had run dry -- he'd been throwing out multiple one-hundred percent attacks like nobody's business -- but it was unbelievable that he hadn't noticed that. Had he been so absorbed in the battle that he'd lost his focus?

Unbelievable. Unforgivable. He'd left that self behind a long time ago.

This is not defeat, Jean thought, leaping to the side to avoid another swipe of Muzazi's Aetherblade. This isn't even close to defeat.

One-hundred percent had been overkill anyway. He could still easily kill Muzazi with the energy drained from his own attacks. A minute or so of dodging these clumsy swings would be more than enough ammunition to execute him with.

Yes, yes, they were clumsy. Muzazi's foot -- the one that had been warped by the earlier attack -- was being held up by a single thruster, allowing him to move a little, but the pain would be crippling him all the same. This was a battle of attrition. All Jean had to do was wait him out.

He dodged and dodged, draining a little bit more force with each missed blow -- until he was confident enough to lash out with his hand, grabbing Muzazi by the wrist. He held the arm aloft, keeping the Aetherblade away from him, and thrust his other palm towards Muzazi's face.

Then, however, Atoy Muzazi spoke.

"It's too late, Mr. Lyons," he snarled, voice low, glaring into Jean's eyes. "I've already won. You've failed your mission."

Jean realized what he meant the moment he spoke those words. The shuttle was behind him, the docking ramp open, and through it Jean could see the cylinder. The one that would bring down the Paradisas once it was brought aboard the ELIZA, the one that had been the final playing piece in this game.

He saw the shard of metal impaling it, and he saw the thruster driving the blade through it.

Jean's eye twitched.

"BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU!" Qillian Qillioph roared, spittle flying from his lips as he went to claw Muzazi's face off, the absorbed energy propelling and strengthening his movements.

That was the final mistake he was permitted.

The white blade vanished from the arm Qillian was holding, and then appeared on Muzazi's free hand. Muzazi slashed it towards Qillian's neck, additional thrusters on the side of his fist accelerating the speed of the movement -- giving it just enough momentum to make contact with him even through the slowing field.

In the end, when it came to speed, Atoy Muzazi was superior.

Qillian gasped in pain as the dreadfully slow blade collided with the side of his neck, burning away the first layer of skin. His hand stopped just before reaching Muzazi's face, agony causing his fingers to twitch and writhe involuntarily. The blade continued to move through him, so slowly, torturously slow.

Was he really going to die like this? No, no no no, it was unacceptable, he wouldn't allow it, not after all he'd done, not after the preparations he'd fucking made! NO! He'd drain Muzazi's willpower to nothing and have him tear his own eyes out! Pry his own ribs open! Spool his intestines out through his mouth and shitting eat them!

He'd win! He'd win, he'd win, he'd win!

Qillian screamed in agony and fury -- and planted his palm against Muzazi's face. Aether writhed around his hand as he sank his fangs into Muzazi's mind, ready to drain him of every semblance of will, and --

-- and he touched something that he should not have.

He was standing at the bottom of a stairway. He was not welcome here. He could feel hostile hands gripping his skeleton, cracking it.

He looked up.

He could see someone at the top of the staircase. He could see the golden eye of an armoured figure looking down at him. He could see Death looking down at him.

"Begone," said Nigen Rush.

Jean Lyons let go, all the air drained from his lungs, all thoughts of retaliation wiped clean by the rush of pure and certain fear that had just gone through him. What was that? He'd never encountered… he'd never…

He had no time to consider the question before thought itself deserted him. Muzazi seemed to have been knocked unconscious by whatever that was too, but there was no possibility of taking advantage of it. The fight was over.

The two of them fell backwards onto the floor, and for a time lay still…

…until a red shadow came to join them.