Atoy Muzazi lay on the ground, cold and dead.

King knelt down there, placing a finger against the swordsman's neck to check his pulse. Nothing: he was gone. Muzazi's eyes were still open, grey pupils staring sightlessly from beyond the veil entropic. King gently closed them. Better to stop looking at this world now, with the beliefs he held intact, rather than watch them betray him.

After the fall of the Heroes of Form, even after everything, King had endeavoured to believe in the world around him. He'd wanted so badly for the world -- for humanity to live up to his expectations. He had been disappointed again and again and again. It was a fate he would not wish on anyone.

Horatio landed on his shoulder and chirped sadly. King sighed, wooden body creaking as he stood back up.

"Weep not, Horatio," he said, exhaustion draining his voice. "He was happier this way."

Horatio's next tweet didn't sound any less despondent.

King supposed that wasn't a surprise: the parakeet had always been far more empathetic than him. Before he had rescued Horatio, the bird had been the subject of all sorts of experiments, brain tampered with until it reached a level of consciousness beyond its means -- along with the ability to utilise Aether. Within ten years or so, King supposed these Aether-wielding animals would become a much more common -- if still bizarre -- sight.

Yes… time just kept sprinting ahead, didn't it?

He stepped through the great doors of the cathedral onto the terrace outside, looking out at what remained of the city of Pangloss. The storm and the flooding seemed to be conspiring to pull it down into the ocean even faster. The filtration systems, which would usually purge the poison from the water around the city, had failed -- and so the rain that fell down was blood-red.

Lightning crashed. In the distance, there was something that could have been a scream. All the history of this place, the architecture, the memories… all of it was being dragged down beneath the waves.

"Caravan," King demanded, looking at the black bandage wrapped around his wrist. "Remaining contestants."

The Aether construct cackled back. "Little antsy, aren't ya? Worried you won't win the thing?! Don't worry! Your ol' pal Caravan has got ya! There are fourteen contestants still remaining! Final stretch! Do your best, okay?!"

If King had eyes, he would have rolled them. Hadn't he already made it clear? He had no interest in going further in the Dawn Contest.

Horatio tweeted.

"I will surrender in good time, Horatio," King assured his companion. "It's true the job is done, but I don't like the idea of leaving people to seek revenge against me. It's quite boorish…"

He glanced over his shoulder.

"...don't you think?"

F! A!

A huge mass of Morgan Nacht's Fog lunged out of the darkness, engulfing King and holding him right -- but only for an instant. Soon enough, the Fog exploded out into its base components, and the gas spread indistinct in every direction.

"My apologies," said King. "But attacks like that will be entirely ineffective."

Morgan landed atop the pillar-like monument in the Cathedral's courtyard, his gaze flicking to the open doors behind King. No, through the doors -- to the spot within the Cathedral where Atoy Muzazi's corpse lay.

"Atoy…" Morgan whispered, his face pale.

"Eyes on me, boy," King said, taking a thunderous step forward. "If you lose focus, you'll die."

As much as Morgan hated to admit, this bastard was right. He couldn't afford to think about Muzazi right now. If he was lucky, the Commander was still alive, but it was a moot point if this King guy was still around to finish him off.

Besides… this guy's words had made it clear: he was going after Morgan next. It was do or die time. If Morgan didn't win, both he and Muzazi would be killed.

"I'm certain Atoy Muzazi had more comrades than just you," King said, circling the pillar casually, kicking up crimson puddles with each step. "I find it hard to believe that the distractions I brought managed to dispatch the Eight Phases of the Turning of the Heir. Perhaps they've abandoned poor Mr. Muzazi?"

Morgan's eyes narrowed.

Don't take the bait.

"Or perhaps…" King stopped pacing, his head angled directly up towards Morgan. "...you're the only one with such little faith in your commander to think he needs your help?"

Some bait could not be resisted.

F! A!

Morgan knew now that attacks using Fog wouldn't work, so he didn't even try. Instead, he spread the purple smog through the area as a smokescreen, blocking King's visibility entirely. The wooden man just remained still, however, fists held ready to defend even as the purple washed over him.

The Moon began moving.

It was true that, if this man really had killed Atoy Muzazi, then Morgan was no match for him. But it was also true that, if Atoy Muzazi was dead, Morgan had lost someone dear to him once again. And if that was the case…

…he had no choice but to become an avenger.

King considered his options.

An Aether ping was useless under the circumstances -- the fog surrounding him was laced with Aether, and so the response it produced would drown out anything else. He could try to jump or run away, but he didn't yet know this fog worked. There was a chance it was set to follow him no matter which direction he moved.

If that was the case, best to stay in one place rather than be blinded and lost.

Still, this didn't look like a good situation for him at all. Morgan Nacht had free reign to carry out as many hit and run attacks as he liked. He might not have been as fast as the Full Moon, but his speed was still nothing to be scoffed at. Without visibility, it would be difficult for King to see the young man coming.

That was why it was fortunate… that there was just one move guaranteed to draw Nacht out of hiding.

King brought his wrist up to his face and spoke -- just three words.

"Caravan," he said, injecting panic into his voice. "I surrend --"

The fog shifted behind King. As expected, Morgan Nacht had taken the bait. It was clear: Morgan needed to kill King for his revenge just as much as King needed to kill Morgan to avoid his revenge. There was no way he'd let his quarry escape.

King whirled around, fist already shining with white Aether as he slammed it into the figure before him. Their body exploded out, covering the battlefield with --

Wait. That response… the sensation against his fist… that hadn't been right at all.

King recognised it nearly immediately, but 'nearly' wasn't good enough. What he had struck wasn't Morgan Nacht. He'd attacked a humanoid decoy of more densely composed fog, covered in Nacht's war-robes. Little more than a scarecrow.

The real Morgan exploded out of the smoke behind King, a colossal greatsword of fog already clutched in his hands. Now that he'd abandoned the robes that had covered his upper half, his bare skin was covered in angry red blisters where the toxic rain made contact, but the resolve on his face was such that he hadn't even noticed. Admirable.

"Die!" Morgan screamed, bringing the sword down.

But King did not die.

Bang.

King had not turned around. King had swung a fist. King had not even moved his whole body. All he had done was point his finger.

Silver Ratio had done the rest.

The index finger had been fired off, slamming into Morgan's stomach faster than a bullet. Nacht still stood there, sword dissipating in his grip, the hole in his body so round and wide that you could see all the way through it. Even with that, though, he tightened his grip on what remained of his blade.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but King interrupted.

"Know when you're beaten."

In one smooth and lethal movement, King turned around, seized hold of Morgan's right arm and --

Silver Ratio.

-- exploded it into gore.

Morgan fell backwards onto the ground, staring dumbly at the stump of his arm -- at the bone protruding and blood pouring. His face, paler than ever, moved soundlessly. He could do no more than lay there as King leisurely approached.

"A shame," he said. "A generational talent throwing their life away for ill-considered revenge. I'll send you to meet your commander now."

That mouth moved again -- still no words -- and, squatting down next to Morgan, King raised his hand for a final chop.

"Farewell."

It was only when Morgan Nacht tried the third time that he was finally able to speak. Only two words, but audible enough.

"Caravan…" he gasped. "...Surrender."

One second, Nacht was there -- and the next he had vanished, evacuated from the Inner Melee. Slowly, King lowered his hand. He'd thought Morgan Nacht a much more earnest fellow than that -- one who'd fight to the end for this vengeance. The fact he'd run away meant that he wasn't the sort of person King needed to worry about, then.

Fair enough. Live and let live.

With a creak of wood, King stood up to his full height once again, looked out at the city being pulled into the waves -- and…

Ow.

He looked down.

There, protruding from the centre of his chest, was a ray of pure light. A white sword. A death dealer.

A Radiant.

"Got you," snarled Atoy Muzazi.

Atoy Muzazi had not faked his death. That would imply that he hadn't actually died.

For some time there -- he couldn't say how long exactly -- he had ceased to exist. Atoy Muzazi had indeed been a corpse strewn across the floor of the Cathedral, skewered by a stone spear. His breathing had stopped. His heart had stopped.

But anything that had ended could begin once again.

Two thrusters were all he needed, set on a time delay, one on either side. They pushed inwards, and then relaxed. They pushed inwards, and then relaxed. They pushed inwards, and then relaxed. Over and over again, until the thrusters were no longer required.

And just like that… Atoy Muzazi restarted his own heart.

With a grunt, Muzazi tore his Radiant out of King's body, leaving a jagged and burning hole in his wooden form. King whirled around, striking at Muzazi with a fist -- but the swordsman had already jumped back out of range.

It wasn't as if he was unscathed. The stone spear he'd been impaled on was still inside him, the protruding parts burnt away to allow him to move. He was covered in his own blood, and his skin was pale as snow. It was hard to believe he was still standing.

But that look in his eyes…

"So you survived," King snarled, white Aether crackling around him.

He didn't bother to ask how Atoy Muzazi was back. The facts were that the Full Moon had come back to life, and he was still a threat. King only had to act with that in mind

The Radiant flared in Muzazi's palm.

"The way you weaken my attacks…" he said, voice low. "...there are two ways to get around it. The first is with an attack you don't see coming. The second…"

King interrupted him. "If you managed to survive that attack, you should have surrendered and retreated. That would have been the intelligent thing to do. What do you think you can accomplish, one foot out of the grave? What do you have left to draw upon?"

As the remnants of Morgan Nacht's fog drifted around them, Muzazi adjusted his footing. Red rain sizzling at his hair, he exhaled.

"I have resolve," he said quietly. "And faith that I am in the right. So long as a person has both of those in abundance, they can accomplish anything."

King clenched his fist -- so hard that his fingers dug into his palm. For some reason, he just could not abide this man called Atoy Muzazi. He was… disagreeable.

Taking a moment to gather his strength, King adjusted his own stance as well, one fist extended.

"This world is cruel and hard and cold," he growled. "It won't yield to the naive ideals you parade around, no matter how strongly you believe in them."

Muzazi smiled with lips quickly turning blue. "Is that so? You speak with the voice of one betrayed yourself. Then I'll just have to show you…"

He didn't move as King had expected. He didn't rush at King for a frontal attack, nor did he dive into the smoke to conceal himself again. Instead, he tensed his legs…

…and leapt up into the air.

The last of Morgan Nacht's fog cleared, and King understood. All around them, surrounding the courtyard in a ring, were five colossal thrusters -- blazing silently up towards the sky with such force that the air around them rippled. Pillars of moonlight.

The true purpose of the fog had been to conceal this sight. So… it wasn't that Morgan Nacht had lacked faith at all. Even seeing his commander's corpse before him, he'd sacrificed his own body to set up this attack.

As Atoy Muzazi reached the crest of his jump, he raised his Radiant up high. King could only watch. Specks of light were being pulled from the massive thrusters into that blade of light, the weapon quickly growing gargantuan -- dwarfing it's wielder as it burnt into the sky..

So… force is built up externally, then transferred to the user when required…

King saw his opening, right before the sword came down. By all rights, he should have raised his hands and fired off his fingers using Silver Ratio. Even if they didn't finish Atoy Muzazi off, he would have to deflect or dodge them, throwing off this attack. By all rights, that was the best tactical decision King could have made.

Only… at that moment, looking at the shining figure in the sky, looking at that pure light… King's mind was occupied by a single thought.

Oh… there were such people once… weren't there…?

The sword came down.

Yes. It was just as Atoy Muzazi had said. The second way to get around Silver Ratio… was to unleash an attack so powerful it didn't matter how much it was weakened.

Radiant Almighty.

It was a slash beyond swordsmanship. With a single swing of his sword, bolstered by the force of Radiant Almighty, Atoy Muzazi cut through countless things. No shield could have deflected it. No fortress could have withstood it.

Muzazi cut through the courtyard.

Muzazi cut through King.

Muzazi cut through the Cathedral.

Muzazi cut through Pangloss.

Muzazi… cut through the storm.

Yes. As King stood there, sliced in half nearly vertically by the attack, a sliver of light peeked out through the black clouds behind him. The red rain had stopped. The flow of blood had, for a moment, ended.

King's left arm dropped off his body. It only reacted to the fact it had been severed once he tried to move it. The cut had been that clean.

The old man looked down at the severed limbs, hearing his wooden body beginning to creak and collapse in on itself, and whispered.

"He snuck up on you…" he said, looking down at his remaining hand. "...where were you looking, fool?"

He looked up -- and as he did, the Fusion Tool began to come undone. The metal and wood fell from his head like flaking paint, revealing the face of the old man beneath.

Atoy Muzazi stood across from him, gently landing on the ground, smoke rising from his arm. The limb had been scorched by the rebounding force of Radiant Almighty, skin blistered and red. He winced as he held the arm, keeping it still.

He looked up with those grey eyes. "I win, King."

King smiled sadly, blood slipping from the edges of his mouth. "Indeed," he wheezed. "Quite the blow… Atoy Muzazi. I take it… that was the force of your resolve?"

Muzazi nodded.

"I see…" King chuckled -- and he took a step back, towards the edge of the courtyard, the red ocean broiling below. "...then… I wish you luck."

And so, without another word, King took a final step backwards -- and Levis' body fell into the water. It sank without a sound.

A white bird spread its wings, and flew off into the horizon, leaving the blood behind.

Muzazi let out a harsh, bloody breath as he fell to the ground. He lay there, cheek pressed against the cold floor, panting for air. Breathing in and breathing out… right now, even that was almost more than he could handle.

That last attack… it hadn't been the last of his reserves. He'd gone far beyond his own strength for that. Perhaps too far.

He raised his shaking arm, his good one, up to his mouth. With eyes wavering in and out of vision, he looked at the black bracelet there. With a mouth that tasted of blood, he spoke.

"Caravan…" he gasped. "Remaining… contestants…"

This was the moment of truth.

After dispatching anyone targeting Muzazi, the other Phases had been instructed to move through the arena, eliminate any other contestants they found -- and then surrender themselves. If they'd done as he asked, then he should be the only contestant remaining at this point. But… if they'd betrayed him… if he'd truly shown his back once again…

Caravan answered before doubt could continue its monologue.

"Contestants remaining: one!" the construct declared. "The winner is… Atoy Muzazi!"

Atoy Muzazi began to laugh.