FAvth21Y

1Thistory - Part One
2
3In the ruins of a city destroyed by an ancient war, there stood a being. Looking larger than life while only standing at pint size. With eyes astare, the most powerful glare, as if there was no point past this one, he stood. Standing adamantly, solemnly, and grimacing with fangs bared. With striking deep blue hair, dancing in the wind as if alive. Locks that flowed like rivers in an ocean of tangles. All sprouting from an icy, torrential geyser hiding under his hairy head. He wore a rough-cut one-piece that hung loose on his body. A mesh of colors with black hued violets, and beyond our eyes a touch of ultraviolet. A lavenous robe decorated with far too many sashes and strings. These bindings being the only things keeping this garment astringed. He had considerable girth despite his small stature, muscles that looked like they had been etched out by lasers. Though most of this was hiding under his cloth, only his hands and feet would show.
4 His barefeet and toes, digging into the earth and itching. Ready like a wildcat, priming to pounce while fidgeting. His hands looked human, but you'd mistake them for talons. With the way his fingers sway, twitching, jerking, and popping. The sunlight above catching sight of a shadow. The nemesis that would stand in front of our forlorn avenger. The towering composure held by this man that made the boy look like just an ant next to a mountain. He made a smirk at this, the indignant, defiant appearance of a challenger for his own bemusement.
5"So boy, what'll be? Looks like you have something you're itchin' to say."
6 With this, The Boys' fist clenched into a rock "You... You! YOU! It WAS you, wasn't it? WASN'T IT?!...Wasn't it!" 
7 "..Wasn't what?"
8 "You killed her! Didn't you?!" His little fist squeezing so tightly it started to tremor.
9 In a matter-of-factly tone, The Man responds "Boy, in our time, we've killed innumerous lives across countless stars. Without some details, I couldn’t imagine who the fuck it is you mourn over."
10 "Details?" The Boys' foot stepped forward as if unconsciously, leading him to his obvious destination. 
11
12
13 "Yes! Bloody fuckin’ details!" The Man howls, with images of mutilated corpses dancing in his brain, leaving him wondering which belonged to this new prey.
14 "You want... Details." The Boy says in a childish demeanor, and for the first time a hint of a smile arrived on his face, tinging on a hidden insanity dwelling inside. "Details, details, details, that's what you want?"
15 The Man nods, with a rising brow. Abandoning the nonchalant stance he until then endured.
16
17
18 "Fine!" Cried out The Boy "How's this..." before his sentence completed he disappeared, fast enough that only an eye made of light could see. Reappearing with his fist burying itself in the gut of that one standing over him. Only then could reality catch up, multiple bursts of sonic notes resonating on the focal point that was crux of the chibis' screaming, shattering, sundering strike. 
19 "FOR DETAILS!" He proclaimed, as if he had been telling a story and anxiously skipping to the end.
20
21
22
23
24
25
26        It was a peaceful day, cloudless, warm. Our young lad had been training for what seemed like months. Along the way, it had become the norm. Just him and his mentor. He was always fond of his mentor, who was in fact no taller than he. But who used a man-sized cloak and a floating technique. White as the clearness that fills the corners of ones' eye. Everything about his mentor was white, or at least it seemed. He couldn't tell as he was always catching the glint of otherworldly light, radiating off his mentor, seen with his own, more-than-human eyes. With his mentors’ instruction he had been guided through many arts of combat. It came naturally despite any real sense of what use it was to him, at this point. Despite intentions surrounding him, he had lived a relatively peaceful life. He had barely yet grasped their concept of conflict, despite being very good at it. Life, for him, was in every way fun; and he lived sans sense of a future. Well that was until-
27 "Hey!" The Mentor shouts "How long are you going to live in your own little world?"
28 Looking down on the boy as a teacher would stare upon the reckless abandon of an unruly student. "Your lessons are far from complete!"
29 "Why are we even doing this anyways?" The Boy replies "I'm plenty strong enough as is, right?" He continued, with a smirk on his face recalling all the times he had his mentor in a worrying situation during their mock battles. 
30 "True. But you can ALWAYS get stronger. In fact, you need to!" The Mentor says, rather coldly, also mentally confronting the times when this upstart almost got the better of him.
31 "But why??" The Boy complains, "Nobody has told me anything about what's going on, despite myself being in the center of all this attention."
32 "Enough! Worry only about completing your training for now!" The Mentor barks, grateful for his students' ignorance in the face of the lads' insightful perception.
33 "Now, come at me!" 
34 The Boy giggles, "If you insist, mentor."
35 The Mentor sighs, "Just shut up and attack already."
36 With fist drawn, The Boy charges. They continue their back and forth well into the evening. The Mentor, as usual, lowering the density of his static shielding so he can demonstrate hand to hand combat. Occasionally raising the shield to full power in order to mess with the boy. Causing The Boys' fist to bounce off this transparent field, sending him flying in repulsion. The Boy thought little of this, when it happened, and pressed on. They continued like this until the sun had set and darkness grasped the land. The mentor concludes their practice and dismisses him. The night was typical and uneventful, and they slept. In the morning, after the usual wake up routine, the mentor began the daily lessons early. 
37 "Today I will be teaching you something new. You have come along steadily and it's time to open the next phase of your training." The Mentor says with a presence that is aligned with his hope to build the moment. 
38 "Alright. What's on the menu?" The Boy says wide eyed.
39 "Magic."
40 "Magic?"
41 The mentor explains, his eyes alight with gleaming twilight, "Well, not Magic per se. But the feeling of it that pervades inside of you... I use the term loosely. At any rate, I will teach you to harness the magical feeling deep inside." 
42 "Oh." The Boy replies as if casting dispel, "You mean like you do, everyday?"
43 "Well... Yes...”
44 "Ah. I wondered from the start when you were going to explain that." The Boy says, reminding his mentor how excitement works in children. 
45 "And I told you in good time...” The Mentor replies in a facepalm, with a clear sense of stark contrast between now and their first time. When the boys' excitement and passion would have him running around his mentor for days with the recurring questions popping out like pest insects.
46 "Moving on." The Mentor says, to himself rather than the boy, shaking off that memory.
47 "Now then, what I'm calling magic is actually ones' interaction with the universe. Consciously manipulating the concepts, laws, and forces of reality.” The mentor explains. ‘Along with the little buggers inside you’ he thinks to himself, leaving that part out.
48“Visualize the effect as you project it through thought, willpower, and feeling." The mentor continues.
49The boy stands befuddled in bemusement with a finger in his mouth, grasping in his mind for an explanation he understood. 
50 "Maybe an example is in order." The Mentor goes on saying, lifting his otherwise hidden arm from underneath his robe, "Now watch and observe closely."
51 The mentor raises his arm straight out throwing back his hand. His fingers straightened out and a blast of forceful wind erupted from his palm. As if his arm was some kind of futuristic vacuum cleaner in reverse. A tornadic gust of air, picking up dust and anything in the way by this miniature funneled windstorm. Going on for dozens of yards before dissipating. 
52 "Movement unbound. Air like nails. Pressures rising. Explosions without sound. These were my will, my thoughts, my feelings, my magic. It's rudimentary and occurs quickly. Either you got it, or you don't.” The Mentor teaches, with a hint of sarcasm, his arm relaxing and his posture adjusting to align itself towards the boy, “That's what it means to consciously influence reality... Well, how about it? Getting a clue yet so far?"
53 The boy stands silently, gazing at his own hand wondering if such things were really possible for him.
54 "Why don't you try it yourself? Project reality through your body and out through your hand. Like I did, but don't follow my example exactly. You have to feel it within, recognize it for yourself. Dance with it.” The Mentor professes on, “Align with your prowess. If you hold any doubt in your own process, it will collapse. Just have confidence, and persevere." 
55Gesturing with motions unseen, The Mentor says, "Now try me."
56 "But...” The Boy says looking up to his mentor, with an innocent expression. 
57 "Don't worry about me, I have pride in my magic. Concern yourself only with discovering the prowess inside you. Come at me from where you stand." Proclaims the Mentor, both consoling and challenging the boy.
58 The Boys' fist instinctively clenches itself as he is awash with earnest feelings. He relaxes himself, putting his fears aside. Holding out his hand like his mentor did. 
59‘What did he say?’ Thought. The thought to project his reality into the world. 
60‘What else?’ Will. The resolve to hold the thought and persevere.
61‘And then?’ Feeling. The rising emotions from the intent of the will and the desires of thought, merging and becoming empowered. 
62‘Easy enough, but what now. How does it end?’ Magic, as his mentor called it. Taking the direction manifesting through feeling, and vectoring it into reality! 
63 ‘Projection of reality, through me express yourself. Realize yourself through my intent and desire. Rise from your resting place embolden by my passion and excitement. Surge through this form and become real!’ The magic spell weaved itself inside The Boy. And for the first time he felt it, what came to be his very own. He discovered these magical feelings and the means to release them. But as he did, he became uncertain, as to what it was he wanted it to achieve. He didn't doubt himself, he just didn't know, where he truly wanted his magic to go. 
64"Not bad for a first try!" The mentor sounds off, as if shouting, having backed away without anyone noticing. 
65 The Boy opens his eyes and witnesses the dawn of his new, brilliantly blue hued light. This light, flickering like a freezing flame. The Boy wondered to himself if it was natural for it to feel this cold. It was engulfing his hand and nearly his whole arm. Doing nothing but twinkling like a charm. 
66 The Boy with raising arm to the sky, stares between fingers Ignited. "What do I do with it now?"
67 "Theoretically, anything you wanted it to, my boy." The Mentor replies, "Why not try exuding it from your fingers for starters?"
68 The Boy focusing on his forefinger, its’ brightness now exceeding that of the rest of his vibrant aural display. Thinking of the possibilities this door that had now opened in him. For the first time, and one of the few times, he began to ruminate on how dangerous he was. And it scared him.
69 The blue flame on his finger and throughout his arm, in its' dazzling, dancing, and blazing glory began to grow dark. Rather than dimming however, it versed a new shade of trimming. Deeping into a majestic purple. Then into an ocean blue as if an oil had spewed from a subsurface vent. Giving it an overall aura of darkness, and then it broke. In a flash, his arm returned to normal and so did he to his senses. Leaving him with a questioned expression, blinking many times.
70 "It's alright. You'll get it. The important thing is realizing what you want to accomplish with it, from the heart, remember that. Fearing what you are capable of will hinder you at best. Or at worst - leave you incapable of action when it's a must." Consoles The Mentor. "You're an honest boy. Gentler than the rest. And far kinder in your days than any I have seen." The Mentor praises, ‘But sadly you must fight.’ Was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't say it aloud.  
71The Mentor raises his fist to The Boy in brotherhood "Trust in yourself, that's key. It will be that which ultimately unlock all things." 
72 ‘And with power like yours, I'm sure you could find a way to overcome fear itself.’ This, thought the mentor, was among the many things he wished, but couldn’t say.
73 "How about we shift to a gear you're more comfortable with, adapt your magic to your fist attack. Have it support you, guide you, forge your strike true. Then you won't have to worry about how to use it." Guides The Mentor.
74 "Hmm. I hadn't thought of it that way." The boy implied, shifting his thinking from the technique he saw his mentor employ.
75 The boy raised his fist to his mentor in such a way as if to declare he had already hit, and began to think. Excitement that dwelled in him began to rise, and his magical chant would surmise, ‘Faster, faster than anything. The fastest that could ever be. Swell up from the dwelling within me! Faster, faster, faster - I want see! I want to see the speed you bring!’ The aura this time surrounding him as he thought, and the boy ran. He didn't feel to be going any faster though, his approach to his mentor felt the same speed! However upon approach to the space his mentor occupied, a shield actualized as if appearing instinctively, desperately. Repelling the boy in a way he felt familiarly. 
76Only upon landing did he have the sense it felt differently. Before stopping to ponder however, he got up and ran back in typical fashion. It was on the way back to his mentor did he realize, as the distance was much further this time. 
77He didn't feel any faster, but everything else was moving so slowly! This isn't the kind of fastness he meant! But no matter, it was his. And run he did. Bouncing off his mentors established field. Recovering and continuing his unique pursuit. Again and again. Until...
78 Up until then, the mentor saw something completely different. The last thing he saw of the boy, was his auras' cloaking. Next thing he knew his auto-field generated and protected him. He was attacked! Again, again and again, before he could even firmly grasp what was happening. It was obviously the boy, but this was too much! 
79 "ENOUGH!" The mentor proclaimed, releasing a field that would ensnare all things around him. The Boy falls to his knees, a couple feet in front of him, covered in etheric chains. Dissipated when the boy found his footing and stood. 
80 "Awwwh! I couldn't even break through... You're so strong!" The Boy says enamored. 
81‘Shit son, I'm the one impressed here.’ The mentor thinks, barely able to speak. He finally manages to cough out, "Just... what... was that!?" 
82 The Boy perked up and says smiling "It's just as you said, mentor. My technique. It was like I was in a different space." The smile leaves the boys' mouth as he continued, "I thought of speed... I wanted to go faster! That was different! It was weird... soo-- weird..."
83 The boy lost himself in what happened. 
84 "By the gods... I wouldn't have believed it, if I didn’t nearly get pummeled by it…" The mentor says in a state of semi-shock. "It was good. You're dismissed now. That's all for today." 
85 "Fine~!" The Boy chirps, running off, laughing, still impressed by the prowess of his mentor. 
86‘The opening of Dominion space... And on the second try. More than just more than amazing, this is beyond extraordinary...’ The mentor thought to himself, standing on his invisible hill. Downplaying his amazement of The Boys incredible prowess. Dumbfounded by his progress today. Was awakening this magic in the boy, at this stage of his development, really okay? 
87‘I'll have to report this.’ He thought solemnly. Staring blankly for a while where he was. 
88‘To think there was this much potential. Enough to fight and win… Even against Him?’ A smile came to his face as he thought, for the first time today since The Mentor mentioned magic. 
89 Night came, and The Boy slept. The Boy always had nightmares, but this night wasn't the same...
90 An attack, his mentor, death, a fire, the tower, and more death! 
91His dream of it was vivid, but his memory of it wasn't the same. By the morning he almost forgot. Keeping only the important bits locked away in his heart.
92 The morning was cool and crisp, small animals wandered around in this rural forest area. Just outside the aging megacity where they both lived. A place that wouldn't look too fondly at the training they did.
93 The Boy got up, groggy and full of dread. But ready for whatever lies ahead. Their camp was meager. With very few things that resembled a camped-in look. Neither of them knowing much about wilderness survival, nor really at all caring. Their minds had been focused elsewhere that entire time. With The Mentor focused on his role in this training, while The Boy just focused on living.
94 The most dangerous thing in that forest, for The Boy, was his mentor trying to beat him into the ground in their training.
95 Today though, they meant with solemn faces. Neither of which aware of what in the other mind was racing.
96 "Well then, let's start today's trai-" The Mentor begun saying in a single breath, before the boy interrupted. 
97 "About that, do you think we could... ya know, skip training for today?" The Boy says innocently, like a child trying to find an excuse to get out of school. "I had another nightmare last night, but it wasn’t like normal… It felt a lot more important."
98 "Another nightmare, huh?" The Mentor replies, recalling when they first arrived and the constant complaint of nightmares. "We'll have to discuss this later. Today will be short, but intense. You can tell me all about your scary dream then."
99 "But... but..!" Says The Boy frantically, desperate for enough time to figure out what his dreamt premonition meant.
100 "I'm sorry. I would have liked to take the proper time to work with you at this stage of your training. But sadly, things seem that they are moving ahead faster than anticipated." The Mentor had said, the words however ringing eerily in The Blue Boys' little head. "I know you had your issues with this yesterday, but we're going to focus on your ranged magical offense today."
101 "But-but-but-but-Mentor!" The Boy said, panicking, his thoughts for excuses failing him.
102 "It'll be okay. I will be okay. I promise you that. You know, I pride myself on my Magixka capability." The Mentor says with a smile, trying to be consoling. "Today you're going to try to break my Dominion Shield. But I will stop you with all that I got. I will prove today, to you; (‘and, to them’) that I have much more to instruct you in!" The Mentor proclaims, ready to stake his life upon his lofty claims.
103 The Boy, nervous, shaking, but oath-bound by his mentor to see his training through. His arm lifted, but not really pointing, wishing he didn't have to go through this particularly, abnormally violent training. He was comfortable with punches, it's what he had gotten used to. He really didn't understand, yet, why he had to learn so much that was against his otherwise peaceful nature.
104 The Mentor, seeing The Boys' rising fear and reluctance, remained adamant about his, and THEIR, decision. He was totally confident in his ability to defend against spells, even despite lacking in many areas elsewhere. This was his, his mastery. This is what he had and he would show the boy the depth of his confidence.
105 The mentor used the ‘Forced Movement’ psychokinetic technique, forcing the boy to aim at him properly. The spell was strong, and despite his attempts the boy tried, but failed to resist.
106 "Don't be afraid!" The Mentor resounded, "Think of this as a real situation! In a real fight, you can't afford to hold back, not even a little bit!" He continued, with particular words that hinted at the boys' unknown, yet violent destiny.
107 The Boy caught his breath, and finally calmed for a moment. Still hallucinating bits of his nightmarish premonition. But now, feelings inside him instilled him with a newfound courage. This was his fate, and THUS it was HIS to change. He would have to break through the reality that was presented before him once before, and come to a conclusion that aligned to his own desire, by his whim!
108‘From your dwelling rise up, and burst forth. Come through in wondrous chord. Yours is that, which can pierce the heavens. Stronger than anything! Standing as walls before me, they shall know you. Drawn up, by me, in my self-righteous path. Break, shatter, and win! But, PLEASE… don’t kill him!’ Words like magic coming through the boy, lighting his aura with his will that was now employed. Darkness, despite midday sun, came over this area, with the focal point surrounding The Boys' own magical light. A resounding blast, making The Boys' own eyes, for a moment, go blind. A monumentalous crash, a solid beam like a spaceships' plasma blast. The premonition of last night replaying clearly now in the boys' mind, and the sight of his mentor dying. Destines would be final fight for master and pupil. The boy was grateful to be temporarily blind, he didn't really want to see or open his eyes. He didn't want to face the reality he once saw produced. Reality this time for them, however, would be different and somewhere in his heart he knew this to be true. 
109 The Mentor as he was watching the boy gear up for his magical offense, put all he had into his ‘Dominion Space’ defense. But to his dismay, an impossible reality for him had come to pass. The light from that scared, shivering boy, had pierced his Dominion Space shield and shattered his pride. The memories of his life, and all that he had seen, at that moment flashed before his eyes. 
110 But a second later, he realized, though his space was destroyed – the light of the attack missed his head nigh. Two gaping holes in his shield where his defense had been pierced. Looking like the damage that would be done by a pencil pushing through a soap bubble. The shield magic shattered and dissipated into nothing. Being blasted away various yards a piece, finally falling as one crashing into the making a mound. Clung against the ground, to his knees, what was The Mentor now lay defeated. 
111 It was only then that The Boys' eyes regained their sight. And he saw, his mentor kneeling there, his mouth agape and face twisted with sheer terror mixed with surprise. Alive!
112The Boy had looked down at his arms, which at the time felt as if they had developed the onset of rigor mortis. He realized that his other arm had moved unconsciously, breaking the spell his mentor placed on him, almost magically. It turns out his heroically rebellious arm sent the attack off course, by a matter of mere centimeters. 
113 "Brother~~!!!" The Boy out loud cried, it was all he could manage with the breakdown centered around his face.
114 "I... You... That... You... I... I... I.... I died! But you, you saved me!" His Brother replied, having now realized the entirety of the event that took place. In that moment he thought to himself... ‘By our ancestry, I will not forget this. I am indebted. I will repay it. I swear on my life, I will pay him back for this debt that I owe.’
115 Our boy, having finally come to his senses, understood that the premonition had been correct according to his perceptions. At that moment the rest of his forevision, came to clarity in his muddled memory.
116 The skyscraper apartments... a blue streak... a towering inferno... His mother! His~!
117
118
119
120The air was dry. Death and sterility hung heavy on the ground. Broken buildings, half standing towers, destroyed vehicles, remains of a sentience race, all the previous signs of life that once here had taken place. With a giant crater in the middle of this grand, inglorious ruins. Signifying the celestial deathstrike, that once upon a time, had occurred. Voices telling of times that now not even the wind heard. Near one of the destroyed, yet still standing buildings, two figures stood. Locked in quasi-wargod, quasi-mortal combat.
121 Our Boys' fist dug deep. Almost piercing his nemesis entirely. All the pain, hatred, guilt, anger, and rage from recent events he'd rather erase. All stung more in his heart than the pain shooting up his arm. Having put his all into that attack as he was taught, holding nothing back, nothing at all. 
122 With a pained chagrin, the Nemesis's face took on a wicked grin. Arm rising up, as if lifted by strings of invisible machinations. Intent on showing just who the top dog is around here. Came down with a strike, but before it could connect it was redirected. A simultaneous attack from Our Boy repulsed his enemies' entire body back into the broken shelves of the all but broken building. Crashing noises, the initial smash, with tremor like sounds continuing thereafter. Combined with a dust storm of debris. Shooting out like a blinding, blanketing cloud.
123 Our Boys' danger sense sent him fleeing, a strategic retreat, repositioning.
124 What followed just after, a big bang and a giant blast of plasma-like, electrified gas. Clearing out all the dust and debris... and the entire badly damaged building! The dust quickly cleared, most of it now in sizes too small to really see. With The Nemesis now standing in a charred clearing. Their body metamorphizing, healing itself and regenerating! Almost as if Our Boys' titanic punch was no more than a bee sting.
125"So it's true. They said you shrugged off damage like it was nothing. This is what they meant. There is no doubt about it now." Our Boy speaks in solemn duplicity, with feelings of self-betrayal for a past that no longer exists for him, and continues. "You will die this day, just you wait." 
126The Nemesis, stark faced, like living stone; a fading flash of deja vu before his eyes.
127Without a second thought of it, he says "Kill me? I can't count the number of times I heard that. Do it! If you can." The Nemesis unleashes guttural roar of laughter.
128Our Boy, with a great lungful of air, sends up dust flying with a powerful breath. Particles impact the nemesis, who throws his guard up. Able to match with his own, an incoming fist. A shockwave like a balloon popping occurs as their fists clash. With many more crashes, bangs, and pops. As they exchange a deafening amount of punches in mere moments. Until one catches our boy knocking him back, as if he would of flown away if his feet wasn't constantly gripping the ground.
129"Don't think you can win, relying on the same approach!" Barks the Nemesis.
130Our Boy tenses up in the same stance, with something of a smirk forming on his face. Moving through his technique with something to prove, that even if attacks remained the same he would break through. His indignant defiance getting the better of him.
131As it began, in a flash, Our Boy was at it again. Appearing before his Nemesis, moving as fast as he can. 
132The Nemesis, now chewing on his words, his guard failing to keep the number of intrusions appearing, a swelling number of indents rising up his chest. Until our boys' visage appears at head height, leg sweeping in to a strike against that mans' skull.
133The Nemesis however, would have none of this, after taking an attack that anyone else would definitely feel, he immediately followed up grabbing the boys' leg with his closest arm.
134Holding Our Boy by the leg, as if taking it hostage, the Nemesis lifts him up to arms' height. Face to upside down face.
135Our Boy was in a disadvantageous situation, and a series of misses, wide swings sending his arms flailing, confirmed that.
136The Nemesis pressed the advantage sending our boy crashing to the ground, breaking up the ground upon impact in large chunks which were momentarily suspended by the percussion of the full bodied hit.
137And again, the Nemesis makes an identical imprint on the ground of Our Boys' figure on his other side before swinging around in a whiplash sending him flying into a nearby building.
138"There goes your cockiness, kid!" Shouts the Nemesis, his hand to his forehead to get a better view through the sun.
139"And at you again!" Our Boy replies with connecting with a surprise kick.
140Moments earlier, as Our Boy was in the process of being flung, he instinctively activated the Dominion Space, ‘Inert Field’ and flew into the rubbled remains of one of lesser intact buildings. Where upon regaining his senses, speed casting the technique - ‘Chrono Clone: Relived time’. His magical control now being on a magnitude several times greater than his days in mentorship, few as they then felt. 
141Our Boy travelling back through his own timeline to the point he was being thrown by his nemesis, appearing within the now activated Inert Field which he set originally. Allowing him to kick start off his frozen double and land his devastating surprise counter. The time-stream catches up, and the crashed him disappears. Leaving only the now him and his shocked Nemesis, with Our Boys' leg coming down with the strength to smash vertebrae. A foot scratching across that mans’ face, smearing itself for a moment before being used as a springboard from there to the ground, only to be impacted by two more feet to the face moments later. Our Boys' arms treating the ground like a trampoline which only the springs in his joints could unlock. Instead of jumping off, this time, Our Boy goes to town with punches straight to the face of his Nemesis.
142It was going well until suddenly Our Boy found himself on the ground again, his enemies' arm working with cold detachment to the damage his head was being dealt. Like a spectral force from beyond, the anarchical arms' vorpal grab clenching Our Boy in one fraction of second, and grounding him in the next. Before Our Boy could react, a heavy foot came upon his face. The Nemesis momentarily reeling in place from the barrage with ringing in his ears. A flash of déjà vu; the little boy powerhouse seemed very familiar to him, but he just couldn't place it. Even with recent blows jarring and breaking off memories that float to the surface. The Nemesis holds his head, getting his brain into place, while smushing the dirt from his shoes onto Our Boys' face.
143Our Boy, having about all that he could stand, lifts up his arm which ignites with the fury of his aura. Grabbing the leg of his Nemesis, Our Boy pushes his aura up through where his hand was grasping. The body of the Nemesis quickly becomes engulfed in Our Boys' aura, which doesn't seem to, itself, be much of a problem. But before our would-be villain knew it, he was being picked up and suspended in the air by a leg. 
144Retribution was the meal of the day, and our boy served it up finely grained. Getting his Nemesis acquainted with what getting smashed into the ground felt like. Our Boy lifts up his enemy as a child might a small doll, and makes a hell of a time creating consecutive impressions on the ground. Finally getting up from his own earthly indentation Our Boy begins to spin, his Nemesis in tow, and spins until centrifugal force begs him to let go. 
145Like a cascade of neon lights zipping by in an earthquake, that man goes flying.
146Our Boy sighs, shaking pieces of dirt out of his hair, taking this chance to catch his breath and await his nemesis and their next move.
147The man, lying strangely comfortable in a pile of rubble, stares perplexed.
148Just who in the world is that pint-sized would-be doppelgangerish antithesis? How could he possibly be on the losing side of fight – when he swore he'd never lose, not to anyone in this universe? 
149The promise... And it began to come back to him.
150
151It was a cold night, dark with barely a light. Even the moon seemed like a sleeping eye in the sky. In the midst of dusty ruins, a recently destroyed metropolis, decrepitly decaying by the day. A modest camp near a barely there suburbia, the wayward home for orphaned survivors. Tiny miracles of that ill-destined day. And a boy, just outside peering into a container of water. His face stares back at him, looking much like our Boys' face in the future, only aged far beyond his days. With beautiful blue hair, reflected off the water by the torchlight well. Locks dangling in his face. He dips in a flask and draws out a long drink, and takes the water back inside. Inside, a boyish man-cave, full of miscellaneous faces.
152Blue makes his way to a table where there sits another boy. This boy with hair like the sun, a fiery red with a hint of golden complexion. He otherwise looked like Blue, with indiscrete features. They both wore drab, like the other boys there. But they were very different from the other children. Blue sits down and pours half a flask into a waiting cup, which Red takes.
153"Another day, another day." Red ruminates.
154"Not every day is just another day, not while we have something to accomplish." Blue interjects.
155"True, true, I guess you're right." Red replies in a giggle.
156The well-spaced tent echoed in rambunctiousness, a distinct conversation closing in.
157A pair of children, giggling, nearly whispering, walks up to Red and Blue, clearly interested.
158"We heard what you did the other day," The pair begin, badly echoing off of each other’s sentences, "You destroyed them, those Remnant Bots."
159"Everyone talks about it."
160"Killed them dead."
161"They even gave you two...”
162"Those things were awful!"
163"...Nicknames after...”
164"We never could have destroyed them."
165"...what they say they saw you did...”
166"With the power of magic!"
167"They're calling you...”
168Just then Reds' hand comes down loud on the table and says, "Will you both quit talking at the SAME TIME?!"
169The pair giggle, dancing around them, until stopping behind their respective heads, leaning in as if to tell a secret.
170"They call you Mistwalker."
171"And you, Flamestalker."
172"Like a duo."
173"Like brothers!"
174"Like dawn!"
175"Like dusk!"
176"Like Her--"
177Reds' arm goes wide, barely missing catching one of them by the collar. Sending the two running back around the table.
178"Didn't I tell you to stop that!?" Exclaims Red, with a foot on the table "And what's with these names? Why the hell would we need even need them? Besides, they don't even sound like names!"
179"Not names, brother. They said nicknames." Blue corrected, then turning his attention to the pair, saying "And not just brothers, twins."
180The giggling of the two children swell, chalk full of quickened whispers. They started to speak again, together in hasty barely coherent babbling before Reds' scream cut them off.
181"WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU TWO!?"
182"Ooh, scary!" The two kids said together, running off giggling.
183Red sat down on his chair with a sigh, kicking up his legs to the table and ponders "Nicknames, huh?"
184Red looks over to blue and continues, "What do you think, brother?"
185"It's like you said, we don't need names. It's not like it's anything important." Blue responds coldly.
186"Back before, we had names, didn't we?" Red says boyishly.
187"We had IDs. That's all we were to them... That's all our...” Blue stops there, his mind subconsciously refusing to continue, but he didn't have to - and Red knew all too well.
188"We'll get them. We'll have our revenge brother." Red says with a tightened fist and a smile, "Just you see."
189"Yes, we'll wait and grow. When we're at our peak we'll restart this war." Blue says in confided camaraderie.
190"Hmm. Mistwalker." Red says with a stare, as if used to address him.
191The Mistwalkers' eyebrow perks up, in a questioning stare.
192"You know what, I thought about it." Red says in declaration, "They're going to need something to call us, in the future… You know, to cry out in terror? 
193“These nicknames are perfect! Well, perfect enough for us." Red says sarcastically.
194"They'll call us what they want, what's the difference?" The Mistwalker rebuttals. "It doesn't really matter, does it brother?"
195"No, no, no. Flamestalker!" That redhead says, clearly getting into this, ”You gotta start saying it bro!"
196"But why?" The blue haired boy says in reply.
197Flamestalker gets out of his seat, coming up behind his brother as if presenting a sales pitch, "Just think about it. It's like you said, they'll call us whatever they want. Let's keep the nicknames and through them a promise we'll make." Flamestalker gets up on the table to complete his presentation "By those words they shall come to fear us, because never will we lose! Until our vengeance is done, we'll keep going on and see victory through and through!"
198Flamestalker stretches his arm out in brotherly fist-bumping style, "Promise me brother! By our bond, we shall always win!"
199Mistwalker smiles, accepting this oath with kin in outstretched fist-bump, and upon it the name they were given that day.
200They would go on to grow up, becoming feared across the galaxy as agents of vengeance. Avenging the reality that they once knew. Without thought for what came before. They knew victory, after victory, after victory. Until that particular day, in the very ruins where they once witnessed their future changing, forever scarred by it. They came standing face to face with destiny, the new future, a fate they would one day accept... But not before fighting, one last time, for that promise they had made to each other in days' past.
201
202Mistwalker regains himself, having been lost in reminiscence. With the childlike foe standing in the distance, waiting for him. Looking as he once did. But it was no matter, having been reminded of what was safely tucked in the recesses of his mind, alongside more memories he'd rather forget. He found himself pissed off. This fight ends.
203The sun was far in the sky, as dusk approached. The ruins took on a menacing glow. With shadows casting like the castles of an underworld. Dust filled the air and flew aloft trailing wind. 
204Mistwalker takes to the air, hovering in plain sight before his pint-sized menace. With a condescending smile on his face he states, "It's been fun. But now the real fight begins. The fight where I get serious."
205‘He wasn't before?’ Flashes through Our Boys' thoughts.
206But before another aggressive move was made, the Mistwalker acts.
207The Mistwalker throws his limbs straight out, as if posing, and tilts his head exposing the backside of his neck. A small port opens up along the line of his spine, and particles of bluish-violet light race out. These particles form a coat around him. As if he was incased in a cloud of mist. This cloud coat condenses until it is skintight on his body. Looking like waves of ocean current in the rivers of this conscious light. Flowing around him until it materializes. Ridges form like island volcanoes, come peeking out like mountainous landmasses. His shell completes itself and shines with a glean that's like sunshine beaming through a rainy day.
208Our Boy can hardly believe his eyes. There were accounts of this, but he had not understood them. This must have been why they gave that man such a nickname. Our boy smiles, realizing what this meant and proclaims "If this is you getting serious, I must be getting closer to victory!"
209"Hardly." Mistwalker replies, stretching his arms out towards Our Boy, provoking a ready-stance from the staunch juvenile.
210Gunslots appear from the Mistwalker arms. The armor of advanced technology integrated with the ability to respond to consciousness. Providing the ‘Projection’ needed for powers contained. His arms coursed in coarse lights which rain from his being directed at our boy. Sizzling streaks hail in a sonic rainfall of energy. Torrents of dust pickup from buckshot of these mist-bullets blanketing the ground. 
211Our boy appears through the dust cloud, charging Mistwalker. Faster than the trigger pull, with instincts guiding him through. They dance as he makes contact, a leg knocking up a gunarm, and a jump out the way of the other. Over and under, making strikes and blocks, all the while just barely able to avoid the shots. With a handspring from the ground to a foot to the back. To a counterstrike up above and a blocked arm coming down. Face to face with the enemy, facing down charging weapons. Quickly bringing down that other face, with a trip, making those shots go sky high. Continue they fight, while meanwhile... Up in the sky...
212
213        Far up in the skies, thousands of meters, if not more, high. Two figures fly, in staring lengths' from each other. The shots from the ground, of the other two, going wide around them. Lightening and shadowing their visages. One of these two figures was the sworn brother to our boy. As white as ever. A shield of technological design coupled with the manifestation of his domain. Imbued and melded with magic. It shined as one with his light. Like streaks of white lightning contained in a glass jar.
214The other figure blazed in fiery haze, baring armor that resembled the inside of a volcano. Covering and recreating all of his highlights. It was the adult Flamestalker. The only part of his flesh that shown was the dastardly smile and the murderous glare along with that face of his. Who kept an arm extended, cindering from a recent show of burning. As Mistwalkers' shots dissipated into the atmosphere the Flamestalker speaks up, "Well, looks like there's quite the fight down there. Wouldn't you say, boy?"
215Only to get hit with the reply, "I don't know, I was more interested in wiping that smug stain off your son-of-a-bitch face." just begging to keep Flamestalkers' attention.
216The smile fades from Flamestalkers' face as he states "Don't try to bullshit me, I know exactly what you are, Dove. You're one of them."
217A frown comes on the Doves' face, with a dangerous glare to match. Not happy with the idea of that bastard having just nicknamed him.
218The Flamestalker continues "I'm not as careless as my brother is right now. Nor am I stupid." Flamestalker stares down with what must of telescopic lenses for eyes, "That kid, he's nothing ordinary. That's obvious, and since he's with you... That's make him one of them too, and the both of you... One of us!"
219"Bastards, you mean?" The Dove chirps, his smirk returning.
220"Experiments!" Flamestalker responds, eyes nearly bulging out of his head momentarily, "Every one of us! Until birth until death, all for their war! But their war ended, despite US being born!"
221"So you replaced that war, with your own? Is this what it all is for you? Your personal war against the galaxies?"
222"Yes, and for all these years."
223"Do you understand how many the two of you have killed?"
224"Do I look like I care?"
225The Dove sighs, having heard their tale well. These two, Flamestalker and Mistwalker, orphans of the Great War. Their fathers, heroes, who sacrificed their lives for this planet, for this galaxy. Apparently twisted now, their minds as they spent all these years continuing in their own personal war, from where the last left off. Laying waste to what remained of both sides.
226"It ends today! For the both of you." The Dove proclaims. 
227Flames being to burn throughout the armor of Flamestalker, as he begins to laugh wildly, maniacally.
228Raising his arms up, laughter now bordering on insanity, Flamestalker shouts out, "Unless... It's you... That other one too... WHO DIES!"
229Flames scorch out from the Flamestalkers' arms, all but engulfing the protective barrier around the Dove. Balls of fire with wicked laughter trailing on intelligibly uttered words. In a burning barrage that has the Dove pinned, keeping even in his defensive stance and shield holding true. What the Flamestalker had in attack power, the Dove had in defense power and he knew it too. The Dove bides his time fending the Flamestalker off keeping his attention distracted, for the hopeful moment when they had him outnumbered; and could take down the Flamestalker, with the Mistwalker as well... The Doves' hopes truly pinned on his brother in blue.
230Bashing, gnashing, crashing, and dashing. Mistwalker and our boy in an exchange of blows. With speeds of which only they could clearly see. Like a tug-of-war of epic proportions. Neither one of them giving the other ever a moment, even an inch, to do anything more. Until a kickoff of our boys’ face, Mistwalker did make, springing off like a diving board flipping around backwards, catching himself in midair. “HOW’S THIS!” Mistwalker proclaims, placing his arms out together in front of them – his guns now like a cannon. A blinding shot pours through, energy charging up at the tip for a moment in a spherical, cobalt hue. Firing in the moment, before our boys’ reaction was true. A terrible screech rung out followed by the explosion. The debris cleared itself away nearly instantaneously. Our boy standing in defensive position. Smoke trails from the ground and across his body, telltale signs that some damage had been done. 
231But without skipping a beat, our boy replies “Now you!” and inhales a great breath, soaking up all the energetic remnants. His arms fly in position, cupping his mouth like a speakerphone. Our boy exhales a sonic yell charged up by Mistwalkers’ attack. A second blinding light, this time into the sky. Almost like the first, but this time diffuse in an ever widening cone. This screech was ear piercing, not even well endowed armor could defend. Enhanced by the damages that were made to rend. Mistwalker did not escape unscathed, as the blast died down. He too floated to the ground. His guard still up, but a little too high. 
232Our boy, following up with an impossible punch, moving at speeds one could only guess a hunch. Connecting deep through Mistwalkers’ abdomen. The sound of bones breaking, internal organs quaking, and energetic blast shaking through Mistwalkers’ backside. A thought flashed through Mistwalkers eye, as his body felt like upon both the precipice of regeneration and demise.
233If I was anyone else, this boy, I would have surely died… Indignation came upon Mistwalkers’ face, adamant to survive. Even before his body could handle it, his arms together came down in a haymaker. It connected, but just barely. And for several moments they both stood there, jolted by the damage in their bodies. Until a second impossible punch, almost like the first, but without the assistance of additional speed, came barreling into Mistwalkers’ gut. Rebreaking the broken bones that were in the middle of mending. The pain was obvious for anyone who could hear it, the near complete shattering of Mistwalkers’ body, almost completely bypassing his dear armor. Blood gushing out of his mouth, yet unseen behind his mask. Legs forced to start taking steps back. Even his flight assisting jets firing to keep him upright. 
234Mistwalkers’ face mask drops, as he practically exhales blood. With a menacing look on his face, complete with the tint of murderous disbelief. Our Boy took these moments, his own bones also reeling, he had never made quite the attack that came with such reckless recoiling. There they stared at each other for a minute, who would be ready first? 
235Until Mistwalker begins laughing maniacally. Thinking to himself that he’s officially tired of this game; if this continues on in equal exchange, if he didn’t put that boy into his grave, the boy would surely put him in his.
236Likewise, our boy thought – ‘Damn, just what does it take to kill this guy?’ An equal look of disbelief, puzzlement in our boys’ eyes. Our boy jumps back to a proper distance, hoping there was still time before Mistwalkers’ recovery. ‘Guess there’s no choice but to do it, all out like never before. A grim conclusion our boy surmised. His ultimate attack seemed like the only way to win. As his inner incantation started, his mind began to wander… To the day when he fully came to power… 
237
238
239
240It was dark. Inside tunnel-like hallways. In what must have been a base for the extra-celestial government agency. The funders and founders of a resistance, for a war he didn’t know. Our boy was injured, his memories a blur. Many things must have happened. Had he died? He wasn’t sure. His brother, The Dove, walked with him. Helping him up along the way. Our Boy had never felt this way, like the lingering of shadows of a play in which he was the star, but just could not recall.
241“Where… Where are we, brother?” Our Boy questioned.
242“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” The Dove replies. “We’re at a very special place. One that can help you, surely. You’ll be okay.”
243“Okay.” Our boy says weakly.
244They continue walking, this damp, almost decrepit hallway. Until they finally come to an opening. Other people are here, buzzing about. All of them seeming to be working, too busy preparing a machine for his sake. Our boy doesn’t recognize any of them, and in fact – feels too weak to care. They continue walking until they spot a man near a control terminal, giving orders to the one working the knobs. This man, what must be a general, or at the very least the one in charge, turns to face the brothers.
245“Ah. I see you’ve arrived. We got your message and preparations are almost complete. Get him into the chamber now. Quickly.” The general orders. 
246“Of course.” The Dove replies.
247Our boy looks around wearily, swearing he knew that man. But it was all too fuzzy, it was all he could do just to stand. His brother led him to a chamber, which was behind a glass panel that the control terminal was facing. Inside of it a machine. Weird, dark, full of tubes going this way and that, all emanating an eerie red hue. The Dove sets our boy into the machine, with a person sized tube, and closes the glass door, and walks back outside of the chamber room.
248The Dove addresses the general, “He WILL be okay, right?”
249“Of course,” The general replies in an almost look of disdain “He is our invaluable investment after all.”
250“Now.” The general says, turning his head back to face the operator “Begin the operation.” 
251“Yes, sir.” Comes the reply. The machine comes to life, buzzing with energy, feeding it to the chamber inside. Slowly at first, then loudly with bright red light.
252“The reanimation machine.” States the general “An ultimate prize and relic of the Great Galactic War.” The generals’ head turns to face the Dove as he addresses him “Back in the day, before either of our time, it was rumored to be used to give your kind immortality. At the cost of their life.” The Dove listens in silence as the general continues “However, if the subject had died before the machine was used... Instead of abstract immortality, it gave them eternal youth. With a power boost that nearly doubled their fighting strength.” 
253“But he was already so strong, despite the failsafe having already killed him. Are we really sure this is going to be okay?” The Dove says, voicing his concern. “Threat not,” comes the generals’ reply “Even though it was unfortunate that the incident triggered his failsafe prematurely, the fact that you were able to save him and bring him back here will surely give him what we could not… Direction.”
254 "..." Silence was the Doves' reply, concern for his brother caught in his throat. But before he could clear his throat to voice his objection, it came...
255"All levels are green to go, commencing injection." Says the operator at the terminal.
256From inside chambers' machine, our boy peers out. When red vaporized gas came pouring down onto him. He could feel it penetrate the skin, threatening to become a part of him. Our boy began to bang and scream. His screams grew louder, almost inhuman. As our boy reels, holding his head in pain. Disappearing inside the gas cloud within the machine.
257"BROTHER!" The Dove shouts, fist pounding against the reinforced glass pane.
258"He will survive." The general assures him, "Believe in the process."
259The Dove grinds his teeth and submits himself to circumstance. Wishing there was more he could have done for his brother up to this point. Feeling almost as if he had failed him, in the oath sworn to protect his life. The screams grew louder and louder, echoing in ways a single individual could never accomplish. Only for it to in moments following, turn into maniacal laughs. The laughing gradually turned into roaring as light poured out from the chamber room. Then an explosion. A gigantic boom, destroying the machine and surfacing the entire section of the base that was hidden underneath the ground. With trails of energy in the sky depicting flight patterns, themselves followed by crazed, screaming laughs. 
260Our Boy landed from where he took off, the insane surge of energy now burying itself within him. Seemingly, the entire complex was compromised instantly. Luckily, it had been largely abandoned, in one of the many ghost cities, with what accounted for the majority of life behind the Dove, and his steadfast shield emanating from him. The debris cleared away quickly, pushed off by our boys' seeping, exuding aura. He stood there with a wicked glare, matched by an equally wicked grin. More power than he ever thought possible, now residing within him. 
261The Dove lowers his shield to ascertain the situation, and sees his brother Reborn - his face in disbelief. 
262"So then it's true..." The Dove speaks, forlorn "I have... Truly... Failed you..." Seeing this new being, inhabiting the body of the one so dear to him.  "Brother..." The words of the Dove trails off, echoes into whispers....    
263
264Our boys' mind snaps back. Shaking off the haze of the past. His Nemesis, before him. His direction, to him, in that moment, now true. There was only one thing left to do. With all the power available to him. A combination of abilities otherwise beyond reckoning. Our boy wonders if he will even be able to pull it off, a thought that was shoved aside to the back of his mind as he focused. 
265‘From beyond time. Beyond space. Beyond matter. Beyond everything. From beyond power. Beyond before, to beyond after. The multitude, infinity, in all that I am to all that I will be. Break the barrier, and give in to me!’ The chanting thoughts of Our Boy, swelling up in his being. His aura flowing through him, exuding brilliant energy. The dwelling that is his body, shaking in every molecule of his being. The technique, complete with intent, manifesting form, this all or nothing shot, with the field of domain opening and encompassing an invisible sphere, forming and dubbed as – ‘Chrono Clone Barrage, Banishing Power Overwhelming’.
266Mistwalker, not clueless to Our Boys’ power at this point, but not realizing the depth of the oncoming attack, prepares himself for an attack. His facemask resituated, his body and armor reconstituted, steadying himself what would be the coming onslaught. Sure enough, just as Mistwalker predicted, our boys’ attack is manifested. Our Boy disappears momentarily, reappearing at Mistwalkers’ feet. Delivering a planet shattering uppercut, complete with the rocks around them, as if in sympathy pain, breaking loose and flying into the sky with Mistwalker. They continue to fly up until a certain height, where they stay suspended as if gravity had been nullified. A transparent image of our boy appears before him before disappearing again. Followed close by an invisible blow. A piece of the rubble floating in midair shatters, and another blow strikes Mistwalker. This continues recurring until it picks up in speeds too fast to count in a minute. Mistwalker is dumbfounded with the apparent inability to counterattack, only being able to catch the sounds of rocks shattering. As well as hits connecting to his front and back. He almost gets used to it just enough to catch appearing, disappearing, transparent figure of our boy. Not noticing that several meters above him, the opaque visage of our boy appeared in a second coming. All the Mistwalker is able to catch at this point are the hundreds of after-images going this way and that, and all of the accompanying rocks being torn into bits. What could of felt like an eternity, ended quite quickly. With a large dropkick to Mistwalkers’ head, from the last transparent after-image. Sending him flying back to the ground where the attack started. Our Boy had, still hovering, with after-images now converging on him, dipped his hands into a subspace trans-dimension vortex. An ability that was as reckless as generally impossible to do. Space itself folded and bent, with that which was pointed toward Mistwalker appearing concave, while the space oriented towards our boy was convex. Inside this subspace realm, a mystery was forming, the finality of his ultimate attack that would soon be shown to behold. However, this would not be. Mistwalker, on the ground still reeling, is alarmed with his computerized signals blaring. What ended up being useless to guard against the first part of the attack, now clearly warned him of this parts’ exoticness. Mistwalker lifts his arm as it forms into a singular laser cannon. He fires a shot into the unknown, hoping it would have an effectual affect. The laser zipped and soared into this foreign terrain, finding its’ target thusly, right through our boys’ left hand. Our Boy reacted, tearing his arm out from the exotic subspace, effectively losing concentration. A wide hole through the middle of it, clean cut and otherwise dead. But our Boy would largely ignore this for the time being, as he found himself still in mid peril. The subspace vortex was closing, threatening to eat his arm whole. 
267“No, no. No, no, no, no!” Our Boy shouted, using what was left of his hand to try to get his other arm out. But it was to no avail. The out of the control vortices climbed up his captured arm until it reached critical mass. Then it happened, a blinding, deafening blast for all to witness occurred. Simultaneously engulfing and expelling the space around it. With the body of our Boy falling to the ground like a ragdoll. 
268
269Getting up from what could have otherwise been his grave, Mistwalker stands in a moment of triumph. As it is to him, it’s not the outcome that determines the victor – rather survival determines the victory. And Mistwalker was determined to survive. He dusts himself off making a slow stroll over to the body of his fallen opponent. Only now noticing the disengaged combat way up in the skies occurring between his brother and that other guy. Mistwalkers’ gaze returns to earth, ideas for what happens next running through his mind. 
270 When suddenly the body of Our Boy moves. It wasn’t unlike a zombie coming back to life through a reanimated corpse. First a few fingers, then his arm shot upwards as he sat up. Nearly doubling over in pain as Our Boy grasps at the remaining segment of his vaporized arm. He screams unintelligible expletives which devolve into screams. His body pulsates, with sweat like fire that burns off his skin evaporating into the air. On his remaining arm, hair-like follicles begin growing a kind of fur. His hand disjoints itself and repositions. The hole that clearly marked it earlier, now covering over with flesh. Had our boy been in the right mind, his curiosity might have gotten the better of him. But in this moment, his mind was slipping, faced with an insurmountable obstacle coupled with a boiling, unquenched rage. He would not be satisfied until a conclusion had been decided.
271 In a primal fury, Our Boy rushes Mistwalker. But without the speed, the magical tenacity, or even a proper mind for effective combat – Mistwalker easily and almost effortlessly counters our boys’ attack. With a compelling knee straight into the gut, and a liftoff from the force of that. But wouldn’t be achieved as a second leg came flipping around in a swift trick-kick, landing squarely in the abdomen and redirecting the upwards momentum, sending Our Boy flying into a nearby derelict building.
272 Mistwalker catches his breath. While his body moving nearly on automatic, his mind is still stuck in surprise that the kid even got back up. Truly it was a testament to what drove him, Mistwalker pondered. The inborne jets of Mistwalkers’ armor forms and spits out plasma-like propellant, as he flies overhead to inspect that derelict building his adversary flew into. He was becoming precautious in this battle as it held one surprise after the other. Not to mention the bad feeling he got, Mistwalkers’ mind finally catching up and rejoining us in the story, from the latest of changes displayed by his pintsized enemy. He hovers over the decrepit building as if expecting to be jumped by a flying monkey. 
273 As if wanting to live up to expectations, our boy makes a stunning appearance. In a form rather alien to what we’ve seen up ‘til now. This creature, apparently inept in his abundance of magical prowess leaks fumes of dense, heated gases, which otherwise would of formed an aura around him for which techniques would be performed. But no, there would be none of that this time. This creature, taller than our boy, with bones disjointed and restructured to give him a more streamline, feline look. His legs having been almost completely morphed. With the hair-like fur now covering most of his visible body, and the rest of it melding with the remains of his clothing. A hand, attached to a bony looking arm, now more resembling a claw. And a look on his face that in reality, didn’t look more or less as fiercely at Mistwalker than when the fight first began.
274 Our Little Monster charges Mistwalker, sans complex strategies or even movements to evade the counterattack. An issue that Mistwalker is all too happy to oblige taking advantage of. Sending Our Little Monster back flying into the depths of the derelict building, smashing out the remaining floors as he crashed through. Causing the entire decrepit building tumble down in rubble. But Our Little Monster was not thwarted nor dismayed in the least. In fact, from the remains of that tumbling tower, he explodes in a primal fury, debris being hurdled in every which direction. That’s not all as he appears even more morphed. With a burgeoning abdomen and an engorging body he looks more monster now than boy. A tail trailing down his backside is now noticeable, lengthy and thick covered in purple fur, with a forked apex almost resembling an opposable thumb and forefinger.
275 Our Monster-boy charges and presses the assault. Any higher functioning thought is numbed, in a red-eyed primal fury. But his animalistic rage is all too predictable for Mistwalker, who evades with ease. 
276“What’s wrong little one, is your mind gone? You were doing so much better before!” Mistwalker exclaims with laughter. Our Monster-boy wildly charges after each evasion, after every dodge, not giving an inch but not succeeding in getting anywhere. Mistwalker travels backwards, floating just above the ground, keeping just enough distance to lead his attacker towards another building. They travel across the barren stretch of earth, with only the remains of the dead city skewing the landscape. As they close in on another dilapidated building, Mistwalker jets skyward. Our Monster-boy, not being able to fly, charges up the face of the building with only momentum as a tether. He then jumps off making a wild swing at Mistwalker. Mistwalker, however, dodges deftly and lands a crushing lariat sending his opponent crashing loudly into the building, now for the third time. 
277 “This time I’ll have you stay down for good..!” Mistwalker proclaims as he flies to the top of the building. One of his gun-arm arms unfolds, revealing one of the many weapon systems hidden under the surface of the armor. Mistwalker prepares to fire, an attack to destroy the entire building, when it happens. Our Monster-boy emerges, having bolted through many floors of the building in an epic leap. When he appears, no longer is he short nor his frame spindly, rather he looks like a steroid enhanced gorilla though lacking any of the facial features of one. Looking more beast now than human, with strength and speed to match. 
278 The Beast Clad in Blue makes a marvelous attack, with fierce and powerful jaws finding Mistwalkers’ shoulders and piercing deep. Ripping a chunk out from Mistwalker and kicking off from his body barely evading the counter. The Beast Clad in Blue lands, spinning around, with what appears to be a grin on his face. He swallows the bits of flesh and chunks of broken armor all in one gulp. Mistwalker, with an almost appalled look, blood dripping from his neck which heals up quickly, makes a gesture with the remark. 
279“So you’ve gone full animal, you should never go full animal. Not that I’ve seen many like you. But I’ll give you the mercy of putting you down quickly.” He states.
280 The Beast Clad in Blue, unaffected by words, grins with a kind of snarl and a look of absolute confidence. His claw like nails glow an exotic color, a rainbow of red, purple, and black. Mistwalker lands, cocky and overconfident to no end, and points his armed arm straight at him. The Beast Clad in Blue charges while Mistwalker simultaneously fires. To Mistwalkers’ amazement, The Beast evades such lackluster attempts at his life, and drills home a swipe with the claws across Mistwalkers’ chest. Mistwalker reels back, flinching, nonetheless swinging up his second arm, locked and loaded, towards The Beast but gets denied. The Beast Clad in Blue with another swing disables one of Mistwalkers’ arms. Then again, with the opposite arm, he swings his claws again across Mistwalkers’ chest. Mistwalker, with almost no time to even be shocked, is in a subtle panic over this latest attack. Whatever The Beast Clad in Blue is using, is preventing Mistwalkers’ regeneration! For the first time since the beginning of the battle, again for the first time, Mistwalker feels an impending sense of doom. The Beast Clad in Blue doesn’t give any time to him to think and ferociously presses the assault. Many swings, all connecting, compounding damage upon Mistwalker faster than he can keep up. Who for the first time ever feels a sense of his own mortality. Bleeding out profusely, his senses and perceptions racing, Mistwalker watches as a final impending strike draws in.
281 Before the final strike can connect, Mistwalkers’ body reacts in classic fashion, his body moving almost automatically on its’ own. Mistwalker, with the last of his strength, sweeps the legs out from that stationary Beast, following up with a kick sending The Beast Clad in Blue flying back several feet. Wasting no time in all due haste, in the moments right before his adversaries recovery, Mistwalkers’ remaining gunarm takes aim. A solid-shot bullet screams from its’ chamber with an echo that could be heard for miles. It travels in near instantaneous fashion and finds its’ target. With the sun now setting and a shadow growing wide on their fight scene, it happens. The Beast Clad in Blue gets hit, the bullet penetrates cleanly through his skull and out the other side, and he drops. 
282“And there it is, this game is over now...” Mistwalker notes, his last bit of cockiness running dry as he too drops.
283“Guess we’ll call this one… Ugh. A stalemate, eh?” Mistwalker chuckles a soft laugh with a big exhale. 
284
285Meanwhile, up above in the skies, high above where our intrepid fighters fell. The other pair of combatants, who were stuck in a stalemate of their own, noticed the collapsing of their counterparts down below.
286“Brother!” Firestalker shouts, as he takes off, abandoning the fight. Racing downward towards where Mistwalker lay. He is followed closely by the Dove, having a supremely worried look on his face.
287“What happened here, how was he able to do this to you?” Firestalker states, noticing the profuse bleeding coming from Mistwalker.
288“Nevermind... That… Share with…” Mistwalker gurgles out, barely able to finish a sentence. With that, Firestalker cuts a gash in his arm and drops of his blood fall upon Mistwalker; slowly restarting the regeneration process. Over on the other side, Our Boys’ body retro-morphs back into the original form he had; with the hole in his head closing up, and his right arm disintegrating straight off of his socket. Our Boy, obviously in bad shape and dying, unable to move aside from the convulsions caused by this transformation. The Dove falls to his knees next to Our Boy. His mind racing with what to do. If he dies here, what will happen? If he doesn’t save his brother here, will there ever be another chance to defeat those dastardly twins? The Dove shakes those thoughts off, remembering his lifelong vow. I will save him, no matter what that means, this time for sure! He thought. The Dove hovers over Our Boy, inches away from him, from a side angle. Their faces nearly parallel. The Dove presses his forehead down until it makes contact, and their minds for a moment merge. Thoughts of his beloved brother fill his consciousness. Every event, every memory, every little thing, every sound, every smell, and every sight. ‘Just as I remember you, in every way I remember you, my memories are now your memories. Come back to me, come back! This time, remember it all! The good, the bad, everything. You are who you are by the light of your experience! Remember!’ The Doves’ thoughts and memories of that last time, that fateful event when Our Boy first died now flow through.
289
290
291Deep in the mindscape Our Boy wanders, a vast infinity where nothing is joined by everything. Wandering here for what felt like an eternity to him. Wandering, wandering, until. That day. The day he had almost forgot. Feelings which drove him within memories that were locked. He relives that day, all over again. The day he wouldn’t mind never remembering. It was that day, after his brother nearly died by his own hand in the magical training exercise. The premonition which urged him with all his will to change the course of things. This future vision and its’ second sight, the event that would alter his life forever. The event of death and resurrection. After he had been successful in saving his dear brother, he knew what he had to do. Racing off from their training grounds, back into the city; one of the few that still remained populated. He raced and he raced. He raced so fast that it didn’t even occur to him that this once thriving city now too looked barren of life. That didn’t concern him, as he had only one mission. He was in the heart of the city now, where a great tower stood; a residential complex like many others around it. But this one was special, for it housed his mother. He arrived a block away from his destination, using an ability to enhance his sight; giving him temporary spectral vision. He was able to see into the tower, scan it almost without thought, until he saw what he was looking for. The lifesign of his mother. A moment of relief fell over him, and he began to jog towards the tower. When in the corner of his eye a blue streak fled the tower from near the rooftops. It flew up and away, and time for Our Boy felt like it began to slow. That’s when it happened... 
292 Suddenly the tower exploded, engulfed in a fiery inferno. The entire area immediately began to glow in a crimson hell. A shockwave impacted Our Boy as he was running, throwing him back. Bits of debris from the building imbedding itself into him. He got to his knees, and that image – the image of hell itself in the form of a burning obelisk, seared itself into his mind. And he cried, a shout not like a sound he’d ever make again. His mind was torn as his hands involuntarily rose to grip his head. He remembered all of it. The utter devastating moment, the first time he died… He remembered going into that place, the corridor between life and death, the white void before the afterlife. There he saw a thousand black figures, marching away in single file. He suddenly realized, he knew who these beings were. They were the people in the tower, all the ones who just died. Then he saw her, his mother. Her spirit walks up to him and kneels down. Her words are like silent whispers. He remembers them, not with his ears, but only with his heart. ‘Live on, live on dear one. Live on. Live on, O son of mine. Follow my footsteps no longer, life is yours to behold, now. Grasp it, and live on.’ These were the words she left him, with a final kiss before departing. But he, as a child throwing a tantrum, refused to leave her. But his mother was already disappearing, fading away from his sight. He desperately called out, until she was no longer seen. And he cried, with a life shattering exclamation, “NOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 
293 Back in reality, his body is broken. The shout that was ear rending, now reduced to a paltry, voice cracking whimper. His body bled. From every pore blood ran. From his ears, his eyes, his mouth, his nose, tears of blood flowed. He fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood; and died. He remembered all of this now, his first death. Having forgotten it all this time, he wondered how remembered it. Seeing himself as if a ghost would his own form. When his brother arrived, already mourning. His brother knelt down, as he would do again, turning the body over of his dearly departed loved one. The vow The Dove took, strong and radiant in his mind. Kneeling over until their faces were parallel, and touched foreheads. ‘This has all happened before… As it happened again?’ The residual image of Our Boy pondered. ‘I died, didn’t I? As I died again. This is what brother wanted me to know. He saved me, as I did him. He brought me back to life with that magic of his!’ 
294 It was a surreal scene as he watched himself, and his brother, from this ethereal vantage point. He watched until his brother got up, turned towards him and said, “Yes, now come back to me! Brother!!”
295 Our Boy felt shocked, and realized, with a flood of memories surging up within him. He knew, and he would, he would live again…
296
297
298It was a destiny changing scene. On top of that war-torn, dilapidated building. As two brothers raced to save their siblings. Mistwalker healed up quickly. The powerful blood of Flamestalker enabling his own to overcome the gene corrupting toxins. Mistwalker sits ups, still groggy from that fight of his life. Looking over at the other two, he stares. The Dove does all he can, without a moment for despair. Our Lucky Boy suddenly opens his eyes wide. Coughing and turning over on his side, his body reeling from all the feelings of coming back to life. Flamestalker stands straight and turns towards them, his gun-arm forms as he points it at the beaten two, threatening to finish the job. The Dove waves him down, “Wait, wait! You win! Okay?” He beseeches, “We’re in no condition to continue this fight. We’ll do whatever you want, it’s your victory.” 
299 Flamestalker begins his list of demands, “Whatever we want, huh? Okay. First begin with…” He points at Our Lucky Boy, who is still groggy and beat up, “Who the hell is he?!”
300“It’s La-Kash.” The Dove replies, “He...”
301“I didn’t mean, WHO IS HE... I mean, WHAT IS HE??” Flamestalker interrupts.
302“He’s like you… Well, more like him” The Dove says, glancing at Mistwalker, “Like us.”
303“I already know that much… HOW? It shouldn’t have been possible to create any more monstrosities, that’s why we were the last!” Flamestalker hits his chest indignantly.
304“Well, they did.” The Dove looks over at La-Kash soulfully, “They found a way to splice Mistwalkers’ DNA with a suitable host, birthing him.”
305“A suitable host?”
306“An Andromedan, a powerful one at that. From a species that can handle the vast mutative structure that was needed to create a stable clone.”  
307There was about a minute of silence, the brothers were shocked by this revelation. Their enemy, the enemy of their entire species. They very reason their species was created. The Great War with these star people that came from that invading galaxy. Their lives, the reason they continued the fight, their vengeance; their cold war that persisted, even with peace spreading throughout the stars. All for this moment, this moment of revelation. Where they came to discover that the enemy of their enemy had become friends; and created a life-form apart of their species to use against them. Finally, after what could have felt like an eternity wrapped up in that moment, Mistwalker spoke, “That explains a lot. A warrior like none other, like a bundle of pure rage, that’s what it was to fight him.” Mistwalker gazes upon La-Kash, finally allowing himself to see the obvious. All along, he had a son.                                                                                   “But explain this to me,” he says, staring at the two childlike prodigies, “What were your reasons for this fight? Was it simply following orders?”                                                              Mistwalker was at a crossroads in his mind. Whether or not he could accept them, depended on the answer to this question.                                                                    “That… Is a little more complicated.” The Dove responds after pondering it with a gaze towards La-Kash. Finally, La-Kash sits up, he had not spoken since regaining consciousness and says with his deep blue eyes staring right at Mistwalker, “They told me it was you. I had no reason to think otherwise. They told me why you did it, how you did it; and showed me what evidence there was. They convinced me, that you killed her.”  
308“Hold on,” Flamestalker interrupts, “Killed who?”                                                           “His mother,” Mistwalker replies, giving his brother a look as to say ‘keep up, or shut up’    “I understand that much. But do you really think that we, us brothers, The Sons of the Lost Generation. That we would’ve stopped there? Had we known what this going on, do you think we would’ve limited the damage to just that?”                                            La-Kash grits his teeth at the thought, but The Dove throws his arm in front as to say ‘calm down’, “Who knows what the two of you would’ve done!?”                                “Easy there, big guy.” Flamestalker chirps up, pointing at La-Kash, “What my brother is trying to say, is that we wouldn’t recreate an event that so closely paralleled our own childhood.” Flamestalker shifts his pointing finger over a body, “If it had truly been us, it would have been you – both of you, and the people you work for that would’ve been our targets.” 
309Anger in The Dove comes to a boil as he shouts, “Us? It would have been US?! What do you even know about us! The people we work for?? The people that made us!? You mean the same people who made you!” His hand clenches, looking at La-Kash painfully, closes his eyes and continues indignantly, “You say you wouldn’t recreate a story that paralleled you own? WHAT DO YOU KNOW? Nothing. You know nothing about me, and nothing about La-Kash!”
310La-Kash looks up at him with soulful eyes, “Brother…”
311The Dove turns and continues addressing the Lost Sons, “Reality is, you have paralleled this reality to be like your own story. My reality, HIS reality! La-Kash was the sweetest, gentlest little one ever conceived. Do you know how much trouble it was to get him to be like YOU?” The Dove points at Mistwalker.
312 “To get him to be like this!” The Dove shrieks, waving his arm to point at La-Kash. “They created him to die! To DIE FIGHTING YOU!” Pain rolls down his cheeks as The Dove rants on, “You know what it’s like don’t you?? To be created just to die, just to die fighting someone else’s’ war?” 
313The Doves’ eyebrow lifts with a sarcastic glare, “Oh wait, that’s right! Your war ended before you could fight for it, so you RECREATED so more would be made in your image, to suffer as you would have!”
314“Wait right the~” Flamestalker attempts to interject. 
315“No!” The Dove carries on in indignation, “He’s gone through hell, just to have to put a stop your selfishness! The galaxy after a countless era of war, finally learned its’ lesson… Just to have you bastards keep it going! For what, for your personal vendetta against everyone involved? Against us, huh?!”
316“You done yet?” Flamestalker finally gets in edgewise.
317“Fuck, how were we suppose to know they’d recreate our mistakes?” Mistwalker states.
318“It’s your mistakes that brought us here.” The Dove says painfully.
319“Would you even exist if we hadn’t made such mistakes?” Flamestalker fires, cynically.
320“Enough!” La-Kash says, getting up and dusting himself off with his one remaining arm, “All of you, that’s enough. What’s done is done, it’s time to put the mistakes of the past behind us.” He takes a few steps forward until he’s facing the bastardly duo.
321“It’s over now. We’ve survived. The two of us are moving on, and the two of you should do the same.” La-Kash claims adamantly.
322Flamestalker and Mistwalker are taking aback, nearly stunned, the surprised look on their faces says clearly that they weren’t expecting this.
323“So that’s it, be done? After all these years, all we’ve fought for… You’re telling us that’s enough?” Flamestalker says. 
324“Yes.” La-Kash says with a childlike smile, “None of it matters now. You’ve proven yourselves unkillable. What’s there to fight for? Do you hate life so much that you’re just waiting for a monster that can beat you to be made?” 
325The looks on the two brothers’ faces goes grim. They’ve come face to face with themselves. Peered into by the very creation of their own folly. They’ve fought so long, all their lives, for what? Standing before them, a child after their own blood, putting their entire worldview into question. Someone who suffered as they, knew loss as they did, was made to die like they – but without a speck of desire for the vengeance that drove them all this time. 
326“Well?” La-Kash questions, “What’s the verdict? If you’re choosing to continue this fight, there’s not much we can do but stand in your way.”
327“La-Kash!” The Dove exclaims, running up to him taking hold of his arm, “You don’t mean to~”
328“Easy, brother.” La-Kash says gently, “We started this fight in anger, and lost. Now it is up to them to decide.” 
329La-Kash looks at them with soul piercing eyes, stating, “So what’s it going to be fellas?”
330A pain looked comes over Mistwalker, as confusion over what stood before now clouds his once adamant oath. Flamestalker appear frustrated, the anger inside him unable to cease. Rage dwelling within Flamestalker bubbles up, “I don’t blame you… It wasn’t you… Wasn’t you… But I know, I know WHO!” Flamestalker’s built in armors’ jetpack bursts into life, and he rockets away from the scene. 
331“Damnit all!” The Dove panics, “I have a bad feeling where this is leading!~” The Dove takes chase into the skies after Flamestalker.
332A warm breeze whistles by atop that lonely building where they have been conversing, it was just La-Kash and his previous generation, standing before him now. La-Kash looks up at Mistwalker, then down to the ground, he chuckles to himself in a pitiful way. 
333“I said all that, about moving on, but in reality I don’t know what to do.” La-Kash says sorrowfully, memories of his mother filling his head, “I feel lost. Now that she’s gone, I’m alone in this world…I feel alone…”
334La-Kash had spent all his life with his mother, as a shadow in the soft, violet light that she was. His daily life had revolved around her, until suddenly she was gone. La-Kash had only spent a short time with his white haired brother; and in all of that time they had only trained for the epic battle that would ensue. Now all that was over with, there were no fights left to be had. Not that he conceived in that moment anyway. Now that his anger was dissipated, and his life twice revived. He didn’t have the least of a clue what he, from this point forward, would do.
335For the first time since he was introduced, a smile came to Mistwalkers’ face. A warm smile and accompanying a feeling he had never embraced, “You’re not alone. Not anymore. I’m here now.” 
336Mistwalker takes a knee and speaks fatherly, “If you’ll have me.”
337Tears come to La-Kashs’ eyes as he leaps in a glomp without a word, landing in an embrace. And on this day, they knew, their destinies had once again changed.