Day 2 Evening

[Clownpiece]

Just the other day, Somerled had led himself to believe that there wouldn’t be food in the plains. Now, of course, he had proved himself wrong. Very, thoroughly wrong. The prairie grasses, which came up his his abdomen easily, were absolutely teeming with various forms of small life. Mostly small rodents that didn’t want to stray too far from their home, which made catching them a difficult matter. The equally tiny birds that flitted from stalk to stalk well out of reach weren’t any easier.

The monster shambled along through the grasses, his last conversation with Amaterasu long behind him. Now it was only himself and the flatland. He held the whip in his hand, unfurled and making light scores in the ground, as he trudged forward, more monster than predator.

From a stalk mere feet in front of Somerled, a bird perched, chirping carelessly. The weather spirit came to a stop as soon as his eyes fell on the feathered target. A powerful crack sounded, the bullwhip surging forward with his inhuman strength, and the once-peaceful chirps exploded into a dying screech. Before the avian could so much as fall to the ground dead, the monster rushed forward, grabbing it out of the air, and without so much as a moment of hesitation, he swallowed it whole, not even bothering to chew.

This did nothing to alleviate the pangs in his stomach, and he continued to throw his gaze about the fields around him, looking for something else. The crack of his whip and the dying shriek of the bird had scared off everything immediately around him. Unsatisfied, Somerled continued his walk, whip still dragging behind him.


Shadows fell away as the sun dipped below the horizon. Blood, fur, and feathers thoroughly stained Somerled’s mouth. Every single animal he had come across, at least all the ones too stupid to get out of his way, had swiftly fallen to his whip and been devoured. No matter how much he ate, however, that pain in his gut remained. His rhythmic footfalls came to a stop, and the monster turned up to the clear sky above, the light of the first stars dotting the dusk. A smile turned up on his lips, and a grave chuckle escaped them.

“Day three begins just past this night,” he said, calmly and evenly. “It won’t end well.” No more words came from the storm spirit for several more seconds, even though he knew his other half couldn’t respond. “You know how it is. The same thing that always gets us killed.”

Somerled sat down roughly, patting the grass around him into a more agreeable state.
“If only you could have been the one,” his voice fell to but a whisper, grass rustling around him as he lay down for the night. “You don’t sabotage yourself at every step.”

[The Spirit]

FACE TO FACE
SMITH vs. SASUKE UCHIHA, ORIHIME INOUE, VICTOR WOLFE, COLONEL

Battered and bruised, but nonetheless victorious the crew of motley champions had finally managed to fell the horrifying cyberdemon. Victory was bittersweet as the death of their comrades weighed upon their minds; or at least most of their minds. The ex-agent Smith had no compunctions about the death of his allies, to him they were nothing more than resources waiting to be used. The weight of the gleaming Hero’s sword felt like a worthy trade for the lives of three pawns. Confidence pulsed through every fiber of the program’s being, power surging to his very core. This “graveyard” was nothing more than another conquest, one that he refused to lose.

The group marched in relative silence, nothing beyond the occasional cough or gasp as a wound re-opened itself. Still, there was a near-imperceptible air of hostility among the group. The quartet came to a halt in the center of a forest clearing. Near the edge of the treeline sat a crumbling hovel, no doubt the house of a hermit long dead. Smith turned to look back at his companions who held a reasonable distance away from the ex-agent. Something was wrong, Victor was missing and the other three seemed anxious. A feeling not unlike that of fear sparked through Smith’s mind, every self-preservation protocol flared to life. He gripped the Hero’s sword tightly and scanned the treeline for threats.

“Something wrong?” the ninja asked, with a barely-hidden twinge of arrogance in his voice.

Before the agent could answer a flash of wicked red energy lashed out from the treeline. Victor struck mercilessly and efficiently, the Blades of Chaos infused with his own energy. One of the hefty blade chewed into Smith’s right calf, sending destructive energy through the limp. The ex-agent responded in kind, leveling the Good Samaritan at his attacker. Three slugs erupted from the chamber, slamming into Victor’s chest with uncanny precision. He gasped as the force of impact knocked the wind from his lungs and forced him deeper into the forest. Smith glared at the other three, who stood ready to slay him.

“You humans are indeed... ambitious ” he spoke with a hint of anger in his voice, “but you lack sagaciousness, you honestly think you can kill me in your pathetic states?”

“Look at yourself,” Colonel responded.

Smith scowled and raised his hand-cannon at the trio. The three dove for the ground, barely avoiding a fusillade of lead. Sasuke was the first to recover, returning fire with the bladed hat of an unknown monk. The program raised his sword to block the incoming projectile, deflecting it into a nearby tree with a satisfying shinck . Another chunk of lead found Sasuke’s shoulder, biting into the soft flesh and spilling blood against the dirt floor. The final bullet in Smith’s weapon was aimed towards Sasuke’s skull, the ex-agent’s unnerving accuracy would no doubt slay the boy.

Shearing light crashed across the battlefield as Colonel let loose a devastating strike. Evasion subroutines and defensive protocols ran through Smith’s head as the Z-shaped slash careened towards him. Surrendering his chance to slay Sasuke, Smith focused on surviving himself. Time seemed to slow down as the ex-agent sidestepped the incoming attack. His eyes scanned his surroundings, taking into account every variable and possible avenue of attack. In the excitement he had forgotten the girl, she had moved nearly out of sight and was readying an attack of her own. In Orihime’s hand a sword made of pure energy flared to life and threatened to make short work of Smith. As time began to lurch back to normal speed Smith turned his attention to Colonel. The cybernetic man was easily the most damaged and it was simply smart to finish him off before the others.

Smith fired his final shot at Orihime, before discarding the spent weapon. The bullet grazed the girl’s cheek, slicing a line of red across her flesh. The sudden pain forced her to yelp in surprise and belay her charge. Running as fast as he could, the program sprinted towards Colonel with murderous intent. Smith’s golden sword was skewered through the metal construct, no doubt tearing through several important systems. Colonel gasped in pain as his chest was pierced through and his internal computer’s began to fail.

“Why?” Smith queried, “why are you helping these pathetic viruses?”

“We were,” Colonel struggled to speak, “nothing more than... tools to you, you would have tossed me to the... dogs at the first sign of danger. At least... At least this way I can take you with me.”

Smith’s eyes widened as he tried to free his sword from it’s newfound sheath. Colonel’s whip-like sword coiled around Smith and the Hero’s sword, pulling him close and binding him to his own blade.

Panic.

A feeling, not unlike panic, entered Smith’s calculating mind. Thousands of variables were processed in a moment’s notice, every detail consumed to create an exit strategy. The coiled blades chewed into his flesh and held him tight against Colonel’s dying body. Even his hands were bound to the very object of his recent conquest.

“Now Orihime! While he’s vulnerable!” the shinobi shouted.

Not missing a beat the red-haired girl dashed forward, skewering the AI with her own energy-blade. He shuddered as the blade tore through his back and pinned him tighter against the almost-dead prime. Smith struggled with all of his might, but his strength was fading. One last thrash against death, one last push against inevitability. The golden edge of the Hero’s sword caught a chink in Colonel’s armor and with the sound of a can opener it sheared through the metal. The cybernetic man was finally dead and Smith’s bindings finally loosened. Smith elbowed backwards, catching Orihime’s collarbone and knocking her back. Still impaled within the program, the energy sword crackled and hissed as synthetic blood was seared away.

“I will not die here,” Smith growled, raising his sword high. The golden edge of the hero’s blade was brought against the sword in Smith’s gut, shearing through the inferior weapon as if it was paper. The ex-agent looked towards his assailant, the girl who had skewered him. He slashed wildly towards Orihime, the tip of the golden blade carved a thin line of red into her stomach. Not a deep wound, but a wound nonetheless. The agent raised his weapon again, ready to strike her down. This was it for the red-haired girl, fight or die. Instincts took over and the small knife, given to her by the dying Enzo, was brought to bare. She tackled Smith with the ferocity of a woman facing her death. The golden sword fell from his hands and speared itself into the ground. Raising her knife high Orihime plunged it into Smith’s heart.

Program terminated.

[spoiler]WINNERS
ORIHIME INOUE, SASUKE UCHIHA, VICTOR WOLFE

SMITH - DEAD
COLONEL - DEAD

Victor now has several holes in his body, not good. 10 damage (Severe wound)

Orihime has a superficial cut on her cheek and a bruised clavicle, as well as a slash across her gut. 6 damage (Moderate wound)

Sasuke has a hole in his arm, no bueno. 4 damage (Moderate wound)

The Energy sword is destroyed.

The Good Samaratin is out of ammo, it is nothing more than a paperweight.

Valentine is there for whoever wants it.

The Hero’s Sword defaults to Orihime, but you three may decide to swap it if you want just let me know.

The Hero's Bracers default to Orihime as well, read above.

Victor Wolfe -1 SP “Now you see me...”
Colonel -1 SP “Neo Screen Divide”
Smith -1 SP “Agent Reflexes (Defensive)”[/spoiler]

[Mickey Mouse]

As night fell, the water in the creek grew much chillier and the trio traded backstrokes for backrubs.

Or, well, Belle did—a little reluctantly.

Mickey’s gloved fingers carefully pressed into Belle’s back; he mimicked what technique he could remember from the couple of times he’d been able to get thanks to his royal pull and looked to one of the last remaining legible articles in Play, Boy for further instructions. His redheaded subject’s expression betrayed her disdain for the whole ordeal, but at the encouraging look of Proto Man, she allowed Mickey to give it a shot.

“Ow,” she emoted, trying her best to telegraph her feelings to her mouse masseuse. He released her, briefly.

“Sorry!” the King apologized, biting his lip, “It says to press as hard and as deep as you can, though!” Under her breath, Belle growled just a little bit.

“Mickey, I—” she stammered a bit, trying to find the perfect way to phrase what she wanted to say, “—it’s just I don’t think that article’s talking about back massages.” The mouse knelt down next to his magazine for a second, trying his best to read the smeared ink that glossed over the pages.

He gave a frustrated grunt. “Ugh.”

“And if it says anything about happy endings, please pay no attention to that part,” Belle continued, cracking her neck a bit. Mickey was not the best at this.

“If only I hadn’t forgotten to take it out of my pocket before I’d jumped in the water!” the mouse whined. “Now it’s practically ruined. I can hardly read any of the tiny words, and the big ones aren’t too easy, either!”

Blues, leaning against a faraway tree and observing the bickering pair, snickered.

“…what’s a C-L-I—”

“Do not finish spelling that word!” Belle shouted.

Mickey’s fur flushed. If he’d had skin, it may have turned red with embarrassment, though he didn’t altogether know what he had to be embarrassed about. Surely this word that Belle didn’t want him to say carried some sense of importance in their quest, right? If Teucer had given it to him, it had to mean something.

Unless, of course… Play, Boy hadn’t been a gift from the spirit at all.

Nah, that can’t be it.

Still, despite his suspicions about the relevance of that-word-he-couldn’t-pronounce to their overall quest, there was no way of knowing. The page had been wet too much in its brief swimming excursion to be of any use anymore. Most of them had, in fact—it seemed like Play, Boy wasn’t too long for the world. Which really unnerved the mouse, seeing as thus far they’d only managed to snatch up one relic.

Six of the things existed, yes? Then Teucer’s most recent calls to the wandering groups of travelers bemused him. “You only have one relic left!” he’d said—so had other primes stumbled upon the missing four? Certainly they had. Did that mean this ordeal was almost over? Someone would find the sixth, and then all of the groups would converge back at the Temple where they’d started, and they would hand Teucer everything he needed and he would be released and they would be on their merry way.

It didn’t have to be difficult, right? It could go just like that.

Deep down, though, the mouse knew that wouldn’t be the case. No… nothing ever worked like that in the Omniverse. Here, it wasn’t about cheerfulness and working together. Not for most people, anyway. It was about what they could get out of helping the poor old guy. And that meant the other groups were probably lying in wait, calculating their perfect plan to snag all six for themselves and get whatever prize Teucer had promised to them. Mickey absolutely despised that mindset—if they were going to help him, they should’ve done it because they wanted to help him—but he wasn’t going to be blindsided by it. He’d done enough staring at evil people in awe during Dante’s Abyss and during his and Proto Man’s excursion to Nippur. These days, he suspected the treachery of his fellow Omniversians.

The next morning, Mickey knew, would bring bloodshed for them. If he could, he would do his best to keep away from the shenanigans and work hard to get Teucer’s armor back to him as peacefully as he could possibly manage. Thankfully, he trusted Blues and Belle to work toward the same pacifistic goal.

He’d been very lucky, honestly, to find some true, good-hearted companions. No doubt no one else that wandered this island could be fully trusted; especially now that Ruby and Weiss had managed to escape somehow.

He reached into his pocket and fiddled with the Potara Earrings.

I won’t use them, he promised himself. But he crossed his fingers behind his back.

Not unless I have to.

By now, the blood-orange glow of the sun had almost disappeared from sight. For the second day in a row, the forest grew dark, and pages of Play, Boy were used to try and craft a fire for the motley crew of heroes. This time, though, their dampness significantly marred their abilities as kindling. The trio all took deep, heavy sighs and they resigned themselves to the fact that they’d have to spend tonight shivering.

They made their way to bed in silence. Mickey curled up inside Teucer’s shield, a ways off from Belle, who had made herself a little spot underneath a tree. Proto Man sat awake on a root beside her, keeping the first watch.

Cold air wafted into their campsite, and the mouse’s teeth began to chatter. The chillyness kept him awake, until finally, in his desperation, he crossed the campsite and snuggled up next to Belle. It’d been a while since he’d been the little spoon. At first, he’d been nervous about the girl’s willingness to use each other for warmth, the barely-awake redhead scooped her friend into an embrace, sharing her warmth like she would to any tiny creature that needed her protection.

For a few brief moments, Belle and Mickey breathed in rhythm, until finally, Mickey felt the metallic material of Blues’ armor slide up next to him. The preteen machine might not have exactly cuddled up, but the companionship alone felt like a necessity now. He synced up his own mechanical breathing with that of the mouse and the girl, and just like that, the three heroes were three peas in a pod. Cocooned together for survival, all of them warmed up significantly, and the sounds of chattering teeth and shivering bodies disappeared. Now, the only instruments left in the orchestra of the night were chirping crickets. In the silence, Mickey’s mind was at ease.

For tonight.

[Moon]

Sometimes, the lonesome of this island was depressing.

He'd occasionally woken up after a blackout expecting to be on the couch at Nikki's apartment. Wrong every time. A dejected sigh and a quick check around, followed by another round of, well, walking. More of the island crashed down behind him, like the falling of an empire. More relics had been found, too, apparently. He wasn't ever gonna fight one, regardless of if he had the chance. It wouldn't be worth it, not with how he'd been beaten within an inch of his life by the very people he was sent to work with.



Sometimes, the lonesome of this island was jarring.

A noise behind him would startle him into running a bit, only to realize it was just a raccoon or something. Then he'd probably pass out again. He wasn't ready to be running about like that. His body couldn't handle it. It was terrifying at these moments. The sun was sinking into the horizon again, signifying the pass of another day. Surprisingly enough, one without as much brutality. It was a welcome change, and it kept him willing to go forward another hour. He wondered if the Spirit could see him now.



Sometimes, the lonesome of this island was maddening.

Hallucinations had started to begin due to the beating he'd taken. Probably the concussion running its course, or the insanity taking hold. It was mainly ghostly visions of a past life that he couldn't hold on to. A few pieces of a life he'd been forced out of by this Omni figure. He couldn't bring himself to care. But white-hot rage surged through his veins, like a poison. This couldn't possibly be fair. But... now that he thought about it, it didn't matter. Food was easy to find for once, a patch of strawberries he'd found near a creek. A bit bitter, but he could deal with that. It certainly wasn't the worst of his problems. He still had a small glimmer of hope, that he'd find someone that was willing to help in this disaster-filled world. After another while, he felt himself slipping from the world of consciousness.



Sometimes, the lonesome of this island didn't matter at all.

[Trixie]

Trixie wiped the blood from her face almost instinctually. Rubbing the crimson fluid from her fingers she hobbled over to a small rock outcropping. Whatever the syringe had done to her was amazing as well as terrifying. The new found strength was heavenly, but it was doing something to her body she couldn’t control. On top of that the knife she had been stuck with was definitely coated with a poison; a plague had broken out on her skin spreading across her torso. After that encounter Trixie could barely put any weight on her leg now at all. Pressing her back to the cold stone of a large boulder submerged in the ground she slid down to her butt and sighed. Her mind raced with the desire for sustenance. Pressing her left hand to her injured leg she felt the oozing black liquid racing from the open gash beneath her makeshift bandage. The wrapped piece of woolen cloth was completely saturated with black blood. The only thing the bandage was doing now was promoting fungal growth. Part of her was desperately trying to rip another piece of her tunic away from her stomach to wrap the wound in, the other part could care less that she had been injured at all. In fact, she wanted to return so she could attempt to eat the flesh of more victims.

What the fuck is wrong with me?”

The waning sunlight beat down on her pale flesh as the gentle breeze blew her matted and blood soaked hair about her face. With a grimace of pain, the mistress stretched her arms backward and pulled loose the knot that kept her leather tunic tightly secured to her chest. Pulling on the cords woven into each side of the abdominal area she loosened the armor and peeled it away from her injured torso. Lifting it up and over her head the Sith Warrior tossed the damaged tunic aside. Ripping the remainder of the woolen undershirt from her person she exposed her sports bra and bosom to the fresh air. Most of the skin on her chest, including her breasts, had turned a sickly greenish color and hurt to the touch. The single entry wound under her ribcage from the shiv she had been stuck with had slowed to an ooze. With a soft cry Trixie tore the used makeshift bandage from her leg wound and tossed it away. Ripping her shirt in half she tied a new bandage around her injured leg and secured it tightly. Pulling the final loop through her knot she pulled it taught with all the strength she had, biting down hard through the pain, as she attempted to ebb the loss of blood.

“Whatever magic afflicts this forsaken island…no regeneration abilities.” Beatrix mouthed to herself, examining the stab wound on her stomach.

With a sigh the mistress leaned, painfully, to grab her discarded chest armor. Unfolding the leather tunic, she examined the inside part of the chest piece where her bosom would rest. Ripping at the leather with her nails she exposed the fine underwire that was meant to provide support in combat. With a sigh that blew the hair from her eyes, Trixie pinched down on a piece of wire and pulled it from its’ place in the cured leather. Measuring around five inches in length she bent one end into a makeshift bulb and pressed down on the stab wound on her stomach. Leaning back, she pierced the skin with the other end and began the long clumsy process of sewing a makeshift stitch using the underwire. Pulling the wire taught with both fingers she tied it as neatly as could and collapsed onto her side. The new bandage on her leg had already begun to saturate and the ground underneath her leg felt wet.

“Without a way to stop the bleeding…It may not even matter. Whatever that serum was…”

Exhausted and unable to keep her mind awake any longer the mistress passed out just as the sun sank below the horizon.

[The Spirit]

Face2Face
JUPITER VS. PROTO-MAN, MICKEY MOUSE, BELLE

The cheerful trio enjoyed their peaceful period on the island. If it wasn't for the evil guardians trying to murder them, or other, less honorable champions, this was actually a nice place. For a brief moment they were actually happy. Mickey was showing Belle his newest discovery within his survival guide, some sort of lubricant for her pleasure. The innocent mouse tried to explain why this would be extremely useful to relax in a stressful environment like the island. The blushing femme was keeping up a high pace, hoping to get some distance between herself and her talkative friend. Proto man, who was following them, couldn't help but to smile and enjoy the moment.

Mickey, who's ears were sticking out above the pages of the magazine, did not notice Belle suddenly stopped and bumped into her, "Ow! Sorry, there Belle, why did you stop?" Peering over her shoulder he saw an old familiar face. Jupiter was leaning against a tree, holding his head. He was clearly injured.
The round eared hero felt sorry for the champion, "Gee, poor guy, he looks in bad shape."

Belle agreed and decided to take a different approach, "Hello? Are you alright? We don't mean any harm, ... this time."
Jupiter's head was exploding, whatever was happening it wasn't good. He heard something growling behind him. Swiftly his head turned towards the threatening noise, but instead of seeing the three jolly friends his mind was playing tricks on him. Hallucinating badly his brain was telling him that near him stood three hungry wolf like creatures, staring at their next meal.

"NO, stay away! Stay away from me I say!" Jupiter screamed at the, for him appearing wild creatures.

Belle tried to calm the man down, "It's alright, nothing is going to happen, we are just passing through."

The centre wolf creature was growling towards Jupiter and he had no choice, he had to fight to survive, "Alright evil creatures, you won't take me without a fight. I won't be your meal!"

Proto and Mickey shared a confused look, "Do I look that hungry?" The mouse asked Proto, who responded with a shake of his head, "It seems the man has been through some rough times, i think the poor guy is hallucinating."

Jupiter wasn't going to wait around for them to attack him and he went in, ready to fight for his life with balled fists. They had no choice but to defend themselves, without hurting him too bad. Belle responded but tripping the charging champion, forcing him onto the ground. Mickey immediately pressed him onto the ground pinning him down. Jupiter was struggling with all his might to get the evil creatures off of his back, Mickey had trouble holding him in place, "Blue, a little help?!"

Proto stood there thinking for a moment, before looking at Belle, "May i see that for a moment?" Pointing towards one of her weapons. Belle hesitantly offered Proto the weapon of steel. The blue armored hero looked down and with a single, controlled blow he knocked Jupiter's light out.

Both of his companions looked shocked as Proto man handed back Belle's weapon, "Lets place him over there near that tree, he can rest and recover while we finish this for Teucer. We will come back for him." They laid him against the tree in a comfortable position. Mickey even tore a page from the guide with massaging techniques, clearly written to tend to head wounds.

Having survived yet another encounter with Jupiter, the trio travelled on, to new adventures. "So about those lubricants, are you sure they are not for medical purposes?"Mickey started once more as they walked off.

[spoiler]Jupiter: 5 Damage, his head cannot take anymore, the headache is excruciating. Obtained, Magazine article.
Mickey: 0 Damage
Proto Man : 0 Damage
Belle : 0 Damage[/spoiler]

[Orihime Inoue]

For Orihime, it was getting hard and harder to swallow that she was getting comfortable with abruptly ending someone's existence. She could, however, say that if Zabajin were here he would be proud of her. More than proud she ended it like a true troll warrior. Without a second thought, she smeared blood that was slowly pouring out of her wound onto her forehead and down the bridge of her nose. Troll tradition would be to thank the gods for her blessing in battle but Orihime felt that this was just a chance encounter. It could have been the ladder, and it could have very easily been her who's fight was over.

After back to back battles, her crimson braid was almost not even a braid anymore most of it clinging to her sweaty body with blood mixed with dirt. The slice was minor at best, it was more the closeness to potential death that left her shaking. That was cutting it way to close, she would have to step her game up if Orihime expected to retrieve all the relics. "How many more people will have to die?" she wondered while tieing whatever she had left of her skirt across the wound on her stomach.

Sasuke had told her that the man in the sunglasses Smith or whatever was a despicable man that would eventually turn on all of them. Did she believe him? She didn’t know and it was too late anyway, Orihime was in too deep now. Her once glorified weapon lay scattered to the ground in pieces mixed with parts from their fallen robot companion.

Thinking back to the final moments of the battle, the moment her weapon failed her caused the shock of her survival to bring her to the ground. The knife, Orihime was only alive because of that knife the brave fallen warrior had bestowed upon her. That alone solidified why she was summoned to this island and why she was chosen to free the trapped spirit. It’ not over, not even close.

She may have lost her weapon but she gained two of the relics necessary to free the restless apparition. One of them were braces worn by the fallen warrior and the other was the sword that almost claimed her life. Figuring this was an even trade she put on the bracers and attached the sword to her waist. Orihime’s stomach told her what needed to happen next.

“Hey boys, I know we are busy in all, surviving. But I think I need to eat or all of this would have been for nothing.” Watching the two hero’s expressions told her that they had heard her loud and clear.

“Also, I don’t want to sound like a princess but does anyone else feel like they need a shower?” Orihime asked while brushing off dry flakes of blood and dirt onto the ground. Before the two could answer her she added one more thing. “I won’t be a picky eater either but I will say that I am really really not into having any goat at the moment.”

[Koren]

This post is long overdue.... I've been really busy.

Day 1 Morning:

Koren was about to accept the request to form this interesting alliance when, suddenly the darkness consumed him once more and the temple scene faded away. He fell through the darkness, a lot more comfortable with the strange teleportation-like feeling now that he had felt it once before. Koren, in his strange human body, began mentally readying himself for the dangers of the island, hoping to finally restore his fellow soldier to their resting place. No matter what the cost, Koren thought, determined. He clenched his fist into a tight ball. I will return Teucer to his grave, allowing him to finally rest after a life of fighting for his people. I will aid him in breaking the warlock's curse, even at the cost of my own life, to grant him his wish that he rightfully deserves. He continued in this manner, waiting until the darkness receded.

The darkness surrounding Koren slowly faded to the vibrant colors of green and brown covering the landscape as the fishy, salty smell of the sea tickled The Adorned Armor's unfamiliar nostrils. He breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring triumphantly before the man bent over and coughed a few times, unused to the particles travelling through his body rather than just around it. Koren took a long look at the landscape he was now standing in the middle of. All around him was green and brown plains, with the occasional tree dotting the area, along with one directly to his right, which had a large plank of wood leaning up against the trunk. To the north, Koren could barely make out the coastline, with the dark blue sea extending from the yellow, dusty beaches.

The strange-looking human walked over to the small tree and picked up the plank of wood, unsure as to what it was doing there. What was it Teucer said again? he thought, trying to determine the purpose of the sole wooden plank. Is this.... my weapon? Koren looked a bit disappointed, defeated even, which quickly lead to a feeling of betrayal. I am the only one who recognized and knew him and HE GAVE ME THIS?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE WITH ONLY THIS FUTILE BLOCK OF PROCESSED TREES?! Koren sighed, annoyed at the surreal situation before him. He had a plank of wood as a weapon and was expected to fight giant Guardians to recover pieces of magical armor. He realized that if he was going to get anywhere with his quest, he'd need help from the other champions in the area.

He took some time to survey the landscape and saw the shape of another humanoid off to the east, and decided against confronting it until he had found something better than a useless piece of flooring. He instead decided to head towards the beach, thinking he could potentially find something, anything, that would keep him from going insane at the irony of a used-to-be sword using a leftover construction material as a weapon.

Day 1 Morning, Phase 2:

After a bit of walking, The Adorned Armor reached his destination, the golden grains of crushed rock squishing and sticking to his golden boots, smoothing out scratches and imperfections from his similarly colored boots. Some of the bright particles glinted in the light of the sun, adding more sparkle, to the already shiny armor. Koren took a few deep breaths, enjoying the familiar feel of the humidity from the ocean air. He sat down and began drawing shapes in the sand, having his only comforting moment since being pulled into this strange, mash-up of a universe. This... is just what I needed, he thought, allowing himself to relax as he worked on his unnecessary creations.

As the sun crawled closer and closer to the horizon, Koren realized that the water had begun to crawl up the beach, getting faster and faster with every passing second. he got up, grabbed his now moist wooden plank and ran, seeing as the land had begun to flood. He ran past his starting point and kept going, ending in another open stretch of grassland and trees, where he paused and rested, safe from the flooding of the sea. Has it already been twelve hours? he thought, noting the position of the sun. It doesn't seem like time is flowing normally here. He pushed the thought aside and lay down in the grass, closing his eyes and taking a small nap to refresh his energy.

[Kakashi Hatake]

The shinobi twosome high-tailed it out of the cave, narrowly avoiding the gnashing fangs of the pursuing beast. Kakashi followed closely behind his mentor, outpacing the horror by a few meters before they turned to face it. He had not been able to see much of the beast while they were within the caves confines. but he now regretted his curiosity.

Nearly a ton of fetid flesh stared them down, held together by rage and rotting fur. Calling it a bear would be generous; it more closely resembled a mound of walking rot. Patches of raw muscle dotted its hide, the flesh having fallen away in clumps. Long, jagged bones jutted from its body, interspersed between the splotches of decaying matter. A disgusting mixture of blood and spittle dripped from its maw as it took in slow, rattling breaths. The rotbear eyed the duo for a moment, hunger evident in his eyes, before all-at-once letting loose a feral snarl and diving toward its gawking prey with renewed vigor.

“Split up!” Minato announced at once as the ursid closed the gap. “I’ll draw him away, see if you can find some way to trap him!”

Kakashi couldn’t fault the logic. Minato more than surpassed the former ANBU operative in speed, their difference only compounded by him lugging around the bulky tech weapon. The silver-haired ninja nodded wordlessly, turning abruptly on his heel and dashing into the forest.

Trap it… the shinobi wondered, glancing around breathlessly. If only the Spirit (or whoever it was that was in charge of his transportation) hasn’t deprived him of his tools and jutsu. He felt all but useless glancing around, hoping for something useful to jump out at him. He was truly spoiled by his wealth of copied techniques. Going from exploding scrolls, tripwire and throwing daggers to a gravity-defying firearm and a jury-rigged spear wasn’t appealing to him.

The scarecrow furrowed his brow, scanning the area. “There has to be something usable here. I just need to find it.”

“This thing is so gross!” The Yellow Flash called out, retching comically. “I’m more afraid of catching something from it than being eaten!”

Kakashi had to admire than Kage’s levity in such a situation. He watched as the fair-haired ninja dashed headlong toward a tree, skillfully swerving past at the last moment. The putrid pursuer was not so lucky, slamming his full weight into the sturdy trunk. The tree sundered with a deafening crash, casting splinters in every direction. The unholy ursid staggered for a few seconds, howling with a mix of rage and confusion.

“Keep that up!” Kakashi called, drawing his gravity gun. If they wanted to get any sort of advantage over the beast, they’d need to play to their strengths.

“No problem!” The former Captain could practically hear the smile in the blonde shinobi’s voice. “But it’s your turn to be bait next time we fight a zombie bear, okay?”

The shinobi wielder rolled his heterochromatic eyes, quickly skirting the edge of the clearing, heading toward the rock wall that bore the cave’s entrance. Noting the canopy overhead, Kakashi quickly grabbed at a low-hanging branch, beginning an ascent. The occasional crash and increasingly furious roar told him that Minato was holding up his end of the bargain, he hoped that he could hold up his own.

Kakashi’s sharp eyes scanned the top of the crag as he neared the treetops, relief spreading over him as he saw his edge. Perched carefully on a delicate bough, he took up his homemade spear in his left hand, aiming the gravity gun with his right.

“I can’t keep this up much longer,” Minato muttered, deftly dodging a swipe from the blighted bear. The beast was becoming increasingly wary of his ploy, his rage spurring him toward the beguiling blonde at a feverish pace. Whatever had animated the bear seemed to also grant it more power as its rage multiplied.

“Minato!”

The Kage glanced up, spying his protege among the leaves. He watched as the scarecrow flung his spear, the implement lodging itself in the soil near the rock wall. Minato nodded in understanding, nimbly changing direction and dashing toward the spear.

“Here goes nothing,” Kakashi muttered, pulling the trigger on his firearm.

The device whirred to life, its core glowing a bright amber as it charged. The shinobi closed his right eye and leveled the gun, aiming the machine’s gravity-altering effects at the top of the crag. Tension mounted as the loose rocks atop the mound began to jostle, shaking briefly before being pried loose entirely. Kakashi glanced down and saw Minato just barely clear the area, leaping skillfully over the spear. Mere seconds later the bear came into view as a veritable avalanche of rubble came crashing down upon it.

[Magus]

They were resting comfortably, Magus ever watchful of one of their flanks and Kopaka of the other. Link’s wounds had all but disappeared thanks to the ice-robot’s gift, and they remained somewhat… in flux.

None of them had really made a significant impact in the battle, and it seemed that they had much to face up against as things moved along. Still, it was interesting. How many people had demonized Magus? How many of them were people like the ones competing for supremacy here on this island?

If the booming announcements that regularly reverberated throughout the landscape were anything to go by, they were spilling blood and claiming lives left and right while he and his new allies explored the island without so much as a hurtful word.

Granted, some of it was opportunity. He wasn’t called ‘Fiendlord’ for nothing.

The weather had turned violent. Rain pelted the forest all around them whilst they took shelter beneath the thick shade of a mighty Amazonian tree. They would be fine and relatively dry there, and all they needed to do was wait out the storm. All that changed, however, when from the jagged flashes of light weaving spiders’ webs all along the sky, a bolt of lightning smashed into the tree right next to the Demon King, immolating the wood and hurling the Demon King to the ground.

He felt numb. It was a blessed relief, in a way, as but for a moment he couldn’t feel the oppressive heat of his body and of the forest all around him. He was vaguely aware that someone was clawing at him, moving him, but his eyes wouldn’t focus and the ringing in his ears drowned out anything and everything else.

When his eyes did focus, he found his arm slung around Link’s shoulders as they stumbled along through the undergrowth. Kopaka seemed to be leading the way, visibly irritated that they were taking so long to make any headway.

Strange, muted noise overcame the ringing in his ears, and soon gave way to speech. “-going now or we’re going to be charred to the bone!!”

Magus’ eyes flicked like a switch from their dumb daze to sharp focus, just in time to bear witness to a series of lightning strikes that slammed into the earth all around them, obliterating huge swathes of jungle or setting it alight, forcing the trio to continue their mad dash through flames and lightning strikes, praying not to be hit by one or trapped by the other.

An errant blast of electricity slammed into the side of a goliath kapok tree, setting into motion the groaning collapse of the more-than-200-foot giant. Seeing that the flaming corpse of the mighty tree would cut off their escape, the trio raced against it, risking being crushed beneath the falling sentinel, and narrowly escaping on the other side.

They were sent stumbling by the massive impact but kept running, escaping the maelstrom.

They ran a while anyway, all of them soaked through by the intense rainfall. The psychotic lightning storm continued to ravage the forest behind them, and smoke from dozens of fires climbed up into the sky, framed in harsh relief against the sky every time one of the blinding flashes of light snaked across the sky – or crashed into the earth.

“Well,” Magus managed once he’d caught his breath. They were walking now, no longer seeking shelter from the torrential downpour – what did it matter anyway when they were all completely drenched – “That was interesting,” he glanced over at the young man, who seemed in appearance as a more or less uncorrupted version of himself. “...Thank you for your help.”

Link nodded. Before any of them could continue their conversation much further, however, they found themselves cut off by a cliff. Kopaka surveyed the situation and came to a quick conclusion. “We’ll need to double back and go around.”

Magus shook his head. “No time,” he retorted, turning his attention to one of the huge trees that had made their stand on the top of the ridge they were on. The Demon King unslung his chainsaw and revved it up, angling the hungry teeth toward the bark of the ancient wood. “We go straight on.”

The mage didn’t seem terribly ‘wizardly’, forcing the whirling blade of his chainsaw into a tree, dressed in nothing but heavy boots and a pair of pants. His muscles strained with the effort, and with each ripple of taut flesh, all of the scars and wounds of an incredibly violent past showed themselves, criss-crossing his skin like a rich tapestry – almost no part of him other than his face seemed unmarred.

The tree tumbled with a harsh cacophony of snaps and cracks, crashing down across the ravine and providing them with a way across to the raised ground on the other side. Magus shut down his saw and slung it back over his shoulder before leaping up onto the felled tree. “Let’s go.”

[Proto Man]

The night had been once been pleasant.

After the guardian fight had settled into their rearview mirror, the trio had been able to try and enjoy the finer things that the island had to offer—camping, swimming, eating strange foods, and ‘spooning’ (Proto Man wasn’t quite sure what utensils had to do with silent embraces) under the stars. Mickey Mouse referred to those things as ‘the essentials for a lovely time!!’

Prior to their camp, they had stopped for snacks, savoring a variety of fruits that grew in small shrubs. At one of them, Proto Man had been fortunate enough to learn the actual name of the berries he’d eaten the night prior.

Raspberries, not redberries.

When Belle had first corrected him, his skin had turned a shade of red not entirely dissimilar to the fruit in his mouth. Luckily for Proto Man, he had been able to conceal his embarrassment beneath his helmet. While a part of him had started to grow attached to how strange, new, and wonderful the same old world felt, he was also beginning to long for his faux humanity. The chilling sensation of splashed water or the warm feeling of a companion’s embrace were wonderful things to experience, but when you compared it with no longer being able to recall species of fruit or having to deal with other emotions that you couldn’t understand, it soured the rainbow-tinted reality.

How weak had this world made him?

The ‘battles’—if such a label was even remotely appropriate—with Jupiter had made that distinction quite clear to him.

Jupiter, who lay unconscious on the path behind them, had nearly killed Proto Man on their first encounter. If not for the shock and confusion of the situation, the blonde man may have plunged his knife through the preteen machine’s neck instead of his shoulder blade. The second encounter had been a number’s game, with the blonde manhandled in a group effort.

What had followed that was a confrontation with one of the island’s previously dormant guardians. Proto Man hadn’t partaken in that confrontation—the Proto Mouse had taken the reins and led the victory charge. Now that he looked back on that battle, the red robot started to wonder if he would have stood a chance against the towering monster that wore a kite shield as a piece of jewelry.

Who’s to say that the giant would have been stopped by a confused child in a bunch of metal pads?

The recently defeated Jupiter that lay behind them had been a shell of his former self. Had the man suffered many other battles or had they—in their quest for the guardian—really left him in such a mentally damaged condition? His words had bordered on lunacy, and while it was quite possible that the blonde had always been like that, there was also a high probability that he’d taken some sort of brain damage at the hands of his group.

So then why hit him with a crowbar?

Proto Man frowned as he looked up at the weapon dangling at Belle’s side. For the first hundred feet, the metal tool had dribbled blood on the path, but since then, the dry air and warm temperatures had dried the liquid into a crusty black paste.

In the heat of the moment, that decision had been born. There’d been no pausing to think about alternate scenarios. No stopping to calculate variables or possibilities.

Proto Man had asked for the crowbar and smacked Jupiter in the forehead with the blunt end of the tool. By some act of providence, he had held enough back to merely fracture the bone, rather than cave in the front of the man’s skull.

Had this happened prior to the warlock’s magic changing his body, there would have been warnings that popped up on his internal display. A hundred thousand different possibilities would have run through his CPU before his body had taken a decision.

Here in this isolated and altered verse, he didn’t have a failsafe against the semblance of faux humanity encoded into his machine parts.

He’d been reduced to a scared, frightened child that responded to fear with violence and irrationality. Just a slightly stronger swing would have killed Jupiter. Would have turned Proto Man into something he didn’t want to be.

While he had tried to avoid the truth, he could no longer deny that he was now truly naked against all the terrible ravages of humanity.

But maybe he’ll wake up okay?

Despite living in a very adult world, Proto Man didn’t want to entertain the alternate possibility that Jupiter wouldn’t wake up from the blow. They had checked his vitals before pulling him off the road, but that didn’t mean the unarmed man couldn’t slip into a coma beneath the shade of the tall trees. Even worse, someone could walk by and slit his throat.

The machine lifted up his hand and frowned at the open palm.

He’d never killed someone, either in the Omniverse or his old world. In the first frenetic years of his life, he’d come close—mostly in instances of self-defense. A man dressed in rags and reeking of hard liquor had jumped him in an alleyway. Much like Jupiter, his ‘assailant’ had been rambling incoherent nonsense. By the time he stopped himself, Proto Man had broken an arm, a leg, a couple of ribs, and dislocated his attacker’s jaw. It was only later that the machine came to the realization that his assailant had been little more than a homeless man having an adverse reaction to an overdose of narcotics.

That man had needed help, and in response, Proto Man had nearly ended his life.

What if Jupiter had needed their help?

The sad part was that Proto Man knew he didn’t have the answer to that question. He didn’t know a single thing about the blonde man with the knife. It was possible that Jupiter was an exemplar of society, but there was also the equal chance that he genuinely drew excitement from murdering children. Some miserable voice inside Proto Man’s head told him that he’d probably never learn more about Jupiter. The blonde would probably vanish and become little more than a terrible phantasm lurking in the depths of the robot’s synthetic psyche.

Regardless of how these events played out in the long term, the machine knew he’d have to live with the man’s blood on his hands.

Proto Man looked forward at the back of Mickey’s head and wondered if the mouse dealt with these emotions every day of his life.

Does Belle?

…Did Gilgamesh?

The machine scowled as he shook his head. No. He couldn’t—he wouldn/t—make excuses for monsters like that. There had to be a line in the sand. He had to be able to draw a clear distinction between right and wrong.

Despite the voice in his head telling him so, Proto Man wasn’t so sure he even believed himself. The longer he thought about it, the more confused he became. He was starting to doubt the validity of many things he had once believed in so fervently. And why shouldn’t he? Those things had been programmed into this head on birth, and while his experiences had help to paint them in further detail, there was no denying that he’d never been given the choice in the first place.

Proto Man came to an abrupt stop and looked down. He hadn’t realized it, but he was trembling. He’d spent so many years living with humans, but now that he lived as one, he was unable to function.

How do they live like this?

What had once been order inside Proto Man’s robotic brain was now filled by a swirl of emotions. There were dozens of them—all swirling around like some type of hellish maelstrom.

Who would ever want to live their life like this? Who would ever want to have to make sense of these feelings?

The robot wanted then more than ever to see some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. He could wipe away all the tears in the world, but the pain he felt in his chest never dulled. He still wanted to help Teucer, but he also wanted to leave this dreadful place. He wanted to feel like himself again. He desperately wanted to be free of this rampant irrationality that pervaded every fiber of his altered being.

He wanted the world to make sense again.

He wanted out before he wound up doing something he couldn’t live with.

He wanted out before he became a victim of this place…

This graveyard of heroes.

[Link]

“All that remains.. is blood.” The words rang through Link’s mind, echoing constantly as the boy mulled the past few hours over. He ran. He left Erik and Yuki behind to suffer whatever fate the monster had planned for them, with nigh on little regard for them, he turned and ran. The Hylian’s mood soured, as did his expression. He pushed himself to his feet with a groan, regardless of his now healed injuries, they were still sore.

“I’m taking a walk. I won’t go far..” Link stated as he turned his back on the strange pair. He set off at a slow pace, mostly to keep decent track of where he was headed.

“Run, and finish this for all of us!” Erik’s words reverberated through Link’s head. They had sacrificed themselves for his sake, but why? What had they seen in him that could bring about such hope and trust in the boy? Link questioned himself, a sullen expression taking over his features. The green-garbed warrior clenched a fist, gritting his teeth together, a wave of grim motivation wafted over him. They had taken down a guardian, recovered one of the relics. He was within touching distance of another just hours ago. He was close. Despite having only one relic, he was close. With the right friends.. allies, he might just be able to pull this off, if not for the Spirit, Teucer, for his lost friends. To make this situation right. Link looked down at himself, the gleaming breastplate covering his forest-green tunic. He sighed and pulled the armor off over his head, removed his tunic and chainmail vest. All of this madness for the sake of a few pieces of armor and weapons. What could be so great that this Spirit had all of these Primes skittering around like rodents searching for their next scrap of food?

The boy huffed and replaced the breastplate, over his pale beige shirt, his tunic thrown over the top once again, in an attempt to hide the breastplate. That monster had attacked the trio, simply for Link carrying the armor, it was attracting too much attention, so hiding it would be the best option. He rewrapped the royal blue, Triforce embroidered scarf around his neck and continued his casual gait, for the first time since his discovery of the ruined city. All around the chatter of birds nesting, wildlife hunkering down for the night, peace. Homely, even. It was odd, everything reminded him of home, almost forcing homesickness on the teen. Link stifled a chuckle as he glanced around, even now, even here home was on his mind.

He felt reinvigorated, refreshed even, the strange foodstuffs the Toa had offered him had done him some good. His newfound allies irked the boy. Had he misplaced his trust? Regardless, they appeared strong, logical, calculating and cold, even. Mostly the direct opposite of the Hylian. Regardless of any sense of grandeur and ability, Link was no match for the pair, given their colder standing. He was little more than a stepping stone, if he ended up on the wrong side of those two.

Link rounded the corner, coming up onto his allies once again.

“What’s the plan, then?”