Chapter 8: The Champions

"The rules are simple. This title fight will be a gauntlet style match...five men against yours truly. I have selected the contenders based on merit, personal analysis, and plot relevancy. I will bestow upon the winner, not merely the World Championship Belt, but the right to shape my 'world to come' to their desires..."

King Anubis, robed in gold, sat atop his gilded throne--studded with lapis--that he'd conjured up with the Glyph of Genesis. It was pyramidal, tiered dais, tall enough to necessitate a small flight of stairs leading to the top, where its master passed judgment on the wide-eyed fighters below. Anubis had embedded the glyph, a tangible relic of pure energy, into the throne's ankh shaped headboard, right in the center of the infinite loop.

Above the arena, the sky had turned bloody red and stormy. Silver bolts of lightning wove throughout the cloud cover. Below, however, the audience stands were silent. Aradia's task force, Lily and Slayer included, had evacuated the frightened audience and spirited them to safety. 

Not wanting any further interference, King Anubis--Salim Netjeer to most of the angry and frightened men and women standing around his superior throne--had used the power of the Genesis glyph to create a dome of 'frozen time' around the battlefield. He had effectively severed the spellbreakers from the outside world. Nobody could get in. Nobody could get out.

Which gave this final battle as much time as the immortal spellbreaker needed. 

Colt was the first to step forward, ignoring John Henry's concerned glances. "You big bastard," he seethed. "Salim. I trusted you. This...master plan of yours..." Colt gestured to the broken cobblestones, torn up from the combination of Koschei and King Anubis' powers. Only the ring remained upright and wholly intact. "It stinks. Nobody deserves to be king of the damn world. Not even me. You used us!"

Behind his jackal-headed mask, King Anubis looked down at Colt with stern, but gentle, eyes. "Never. Oh, mighty King Colt, do not look upon me with such disdain. I have always respected you and your team. But fair is fair, and you did not qualify for this gauntlet."

"SCREW YOUR DAMM CHAMPIONSHIP!" Colt said, jumping straight into the air and conjuring a lightning bolt from above. He threw the bolt of electricity at his foe.

Who had, suddenly, vanished from the throne.

Before Colt could turn his head around, King Anubis was at his back. "Boo!" he said.

Colt doubled over in pain, spitting out onto the cobblestones. However King had struck him from behind, he'd dealt a near-crippling blow.

"COLT!" Spike yelled, charging forward. John Henry went to hold him back, but the boy was too revved up. 

King Anubis merely held out his giant hand, holding Spike back by the forehead as the fighter (half the giant's size, or more) wildly swung with his fists. "How adorable," Salim said. "And adorable. This is why I chose you, Spike. Your heroism is truly something to behold." King Anubis pointed to Colt. "Observe. I can destroy. And...I can heal."

With a sickening crack, Colt's broken back repaired itself, putting the cowboy upright. He breathed out. "...Goddess...damn."

"Sleep," King Anubis said, waving his hand in front of Colt's face. The spellbreaker collapsed to the ground, unconscious. King Anubis turned to his stunned audience. "Now, if anybody else would care to try breaking my rules..." He pushed Spike away. The young fighter landed on the ground, more emotionally than physically hurt.

In a blink, King Anubis was back on his throne, head resting on his chin, looking down at his new subjects. "Koschei, or Semyon, or Rasputin...I honestly stopped keeping track...wanted to subjugate the world and make it a place where only the strong survived. Pathetic. Is that not the world we already live in today?"

The spellbreakers, all weary and worn out from Koschei draining their magick, looked upward at their new master with scornful glances. Deadboy, holding his Auntie and Uncle close to his side, was already concocting how to dispatch him. That power of his, though, was unlike any dark magick he'd witnessed before.

"In primitive times, men weakly attempted proving their superiority by comparing the size of their manhood. We have not come far, since then. Now? It's nuclear missiles. When I went to sleep, long ago, I had hoped to wake up in a world where mankind had evolved. Instead? I was awoken to be used as a tool of war. Well..." 

King Anubis sat up and motioned to the scenery around him. "Indeed, I will end the world. And create a better one in its stead. Magick has bent and ruled this timeline for far too long, twisting fate into knots. Reality is self correcting. This is why we stand on the brink of nuclear annihilation--because this timeline cannot exist, as it stands. I will rewrite it, and eliminate those who sought to subjugate, harm, and control. I can think of no better judgment than this."

Spike pulled himself off the ground. "You keep saying you want to give us a 'favorable outcome'. But...wouldn't that erase tons of people? Make it so they never existed?"

"And would the world be so bad if Hitler never existed?"

"...Who?"

"Exactly." King Anubis stood. Everyone instinctively took a step back. "Every timeline has it's 'a-holes'. In this one, it was the Albans. But you best be sure, it could have been Koschei next, or the Alchemists. I have seen many possible futures unravel, even ones where nuclear annihilation is not the outcome. Fifty years for now, or more, I have glimpsed the fate of the world. Terrorism. Countries ruled by idiot bullies. Plagues killing millions by the day." King Anubis clenched his fist and trembled with rage. "Twitter!

"None of that can be avoided if this reality is permitted to persist. That said, I am a merciful god. Best me in spellbreaking, and I will allow the victor to mold the world to come to their liking." The giant paused. "When I call your name, please step forward. Cian. Spike. Rage. Tiger. Iron."

The spellbreakers in question looked at each other, warily.

"The rest of you...are safe. You may leave the runway." King Anubis suddenly placed his hand to his mask and giggled childishly. "Okay, okay, I know you won't get that reference, but I just had to do it. Anyways, it's time for you five men...to lip-synch for your life. By which I mean, fight me."

As Kin Anubis spoke these words, he reached up and yanked off his robe, revealing a massive body, veiny and rippling with muscle. The man, or monster, could easily dwarf most professional bodybuilders. Everyone gasped, even John Henry--the beefiest of them all.

Spike almost fell to his knees, drooling. "Holy s***! Woof!"

Cian smacked him up the side of the head. "Spike, he's trying to take over the world."

"Duh! Well, who doesn't love a baddie?"

"That's the spirit, Spikey!" King Anubis said. "But you weren't paying attention. I am not trying to take over the world. I am trying to give you a better one. My vibe is...er...more morally gray than black and white. Keeps things interesting."

"You don't have the right to that much power," Joseph said, pushing past Spike. "Nobody does! Your intentions may be more altruistic than Semyon's, but you're robbing the entire world of autonomy. All of us have the power to shape the world. We're doing it every day."

Kin Anubis lowered his head. "Yeah. And you're all doing a s*** job of it. I'm not going to be preached to by some Bruce Lee pretty-boy in ballerina tights."

Joseph winced. "Ouch. Ok, look, I get that tensions are a bit high right now, but maybe we can come to some sort--"

"BORING!" King Anubis said. "That's what I hare about your faces. You're so damn BORING."

Joseph's eyes flashed white, and the wind around his feet spiralled up around him like a cyclone. "Allow me to make things more interesting, then. You are no god, despite what your magick may have led you to believe. If you want a fight, you'll have one. I will dismantle you."

Spike had never seen Joseph filled with such righteous fury. Even Vahni Rage looked slightly put off.

"Nobody should live as long as you and Semyon," Joseph continued, as King Anubis waited patiently. "Look what it does to people."

"Now that's more like it!" King Anubis laughed. "But spellbreakers, be forewarned...should you succumb to my finisher, I will take a YEAR off your life, and make myself even stronger."

Joseph and Rage looked at each other and shrugged. "I mean, just a year? That doesn't sound so bad?" Rage said.

"Ugh." King Anubis hung his head. "Seriously? Not even a little scared? Sheesh. You go through all this trouble to usher in the apocalypse and nobody takes you seriously. NEVERTHELESS, MORTALS! I will give you an hour to prepare. To strategize. To make peace with your Goddess. Whatever you choose to do. But don't even think of trying to escape, or thwarting me by means of magick or trickery. This is a spellbreaking tournament. You want to settle your score with me? Settle it in the ring." 

---

Spike: Why are yous guys looking at me like that! I had nothing to do with this.

Tiger: You've been in the GSA for a year, but he selects you as one of the final contenders? Weren't you disqualified?

Cian: I mean, so was I at one point. I don't think Spike meant any harm, Joseph.

Mr. Iron: You just know things are serious when Cian is the one defending Spike.

Rage: It is obvious that King Anubis has chosen us, not solely on merit alone, but the strength of our spirit.

Tiger: ...I would have picked Kengo over Spike, to be honest.

Spike: JOE, I AM STANDING RIGHT HERE.

Rage: I would have personally given it to El Amante...

Spike: VAHNI, YOU HEEL!

Mr. Iron: I gotta' say fella's, this whole thing don't look great. I've fought some nasty heels in my time, but never one that...er...controls it.

Rage: I will confront any challenge. If this King Anubis claims to hold the power of his namesake, the Judge of the Dead, than I shall laugh in his face...and then BEAT IT to a bloody PULP.

Tiger: ...And get muscle busted so hard it shaves a year off your life? Only one of us is likely to win this, boys, but we need to go at it with a plan. This is more than just about winning the championship now. This is about...

Spike: Saving the world?

Tiger: I didn't want to say it.

Cian: And how they hell are we supposed to stop a feckin' god?

Spike: If Lily were here, she might be able to come up with a solution. She knows how glyphs work.

Mr. Iron: Then the best we can do is knock him the hell out. Seldom few glyphs can be controlled while unconscious.

Rage: Even the glyph of the Goddess Aethrin?

Tiger: Mr. Iron has a valid point as any. All we can do is land a K.O.

Cian: Again, lads, against a god?

Spike: He's not a god. And...I think he's just a good guy who let a little power get to his head.

Cian: A LITTLE?

Tiger: Your ability to see the good in others is truly the mark of a hero, Spike, but I'm afraid in this circumstance it could be considered naïve.

Rage: Which is all to say, jobbers, that I'll need to RIP HIS HEAD OFF.

Tiger: You've already done enough murder for one day, Rage.

Rage: I HAD NO CHOICE.

Mr. Iron: Muscle and magick alone is not going to be able to win this. I think of most matches like puzzles....

Spike: Mr. Iron, I get stumped by friggin' Highlights Hidden Picture Puzzles!

Cian: ...A puzzle, huh. 

Spike: Okay, I'm not very good at words...but. Here I go. If I had to stand at the end of the world with anybody, it would be you guys. My mentors. My rivals...and possible future lovers.

Cian/Rage: LOVERS, PLURAL?

Spike: I couldn't have gotten this far without your teaching and you challenging me. Or...in Rage's case, trying to kill me.

Rage: But did you die?

Spike: Joseph is right. I mean, he usually is. I don't deserve to be here among champs. Not yet. But I became a spellbreaker to show the world what a hero looks like. If I don't help save it, what does that make me?

Rage: ...A dead hero?

Spike: HEY, I'M TRYIN' HERE, WISE GUY! Anyways, I think we're all smart and strong and sexy enough that...we can do this.

Tiger: Your heroic speech in the face of supreme evil needs work, kid, but not a bad start.

Rage: The fact that I, the previous villain, am teaming up with you all to fight an even greater villain, suggests that we will need back-up plans upon back-up plans if we are to stand a chance against this King Anubis.

Cian: We have 45 minutes...

Mr. Iron: Kid, 45 minutes is tons of time. So, boys. let's talk...

Spike: And then, let's rumble.

---

Standing across from Vahni Rage, a god in his own right, King Anubis dwarfed the Warrior of Flames by a foot or more. King Anubis was a living, bronze colossus. His muscles and proportions bordered on inhuman--a stark contrast to the shining eyes sitting behind his intimidating mask, which sparkled with the pulse of life. 

Sadness. Desperation. Anger. Confidence. Arrogance. Kindness. Hope. Judgment. A million different emotions reflected in Salim's eyes. 

"So, you're first in the meat grinder," King Anubis said to Rage, tossing back his long braid, almost as tall as the rest of him. "Very good."

Rage, who had oiled himself up nicely for this fight, looked to Spike, standing at ringside. The blonde fighter nodded to him. Mr. Iron, White Tiger, Cian, waited behind Spike. How strange, it was, to have allies for once. Rage considered getting used to the idea.

Then again, becoming champion sounded a whole lot nicer. "I see there's no ref," Rage smirked, cracking his neck. "Last man standing? Anything goes?" Trying for intimidation, Rage bounced his pecs.

King Anubis stared at him for a few seconds, and then bounced his in return. 

Spike almost felt the earth shake, and had to bite his lip. Cian threw him a look. "Okay, so he has the biggest tits you and I have ever seen. We are NOT going to be attracted to the supreme evil, Spike."

King Anubis' laughter was deep and resonate, befitting an immortal of his might. "Oh yes. Let us bring about total destruction, Mighty Flame. A pity the world will not get to watch this match." King Anubis turned his head towards the bleachers, were the other spellbreakers watched with anticipation and horror. "Yet, it is a most worthy audience. Well, Rage. Shall we, d--"

Rage had already sprinted across the ring, throwing off heat and fire out as he did. He wouldn't give King Anubis a chance. He threw a heavy punch, and the fire off his fists burst forward like a projectile. The fire ball struck its mark, practically exploding that corner of the ring, causing the runes woven into the ropes to brighten as they absorbed the excess magick.

For a moment, Rage thought he'd incinerated the giant. Then, remembering what he'd done to Colt, he whipped around to aim another punch.

"Very clever," King Anubis said, grabbing Rage's fist and clamping down with ease. Rage's muscles tensed, and he clenched his jaw in agony. "I'd shatter your pathetic hand if I wanted to be boring, you half-baked heel."

Rage's eyes flashed red hot. "What...did...you...say?" He turned his head, sending himself alight. "You will BURN WITH ME!"

King Anubis responded by scooping Rage up, off the mat. "Nah," was all he said, as he jumped into the air, held Rage aloft, and then brought the whole weight of his body down--creating an impact that rocked not just the ring, but the earth itself.

A steaming crater formed in the center of the ring--its magicks repairing itself (and the soma's magick repairing Rage). Vahni Rage, body bent at an odd angle, twitched. His eyes rolled back into his head.

Spike and Cian both clutched their mouths, in horror. Not even a minute had passed since the match had started!

"Oh...you thought I was done?" King Anubis laughed, picking up Rage--by the head--and holding his limp body in front of him. "That's what you like to say to your jobbers, isn't it--spicy boy? How does it feel now...to be my plaything?" King Abubis flexed his bulging bicep with his free arm, veins popping out of his vasculature. "Bet that made your singlet twitch, eh, Sailorboy? Oh, and super cute look by the way."

Spike wasn't feeling his old manager's 'humor', however. He stared blankly ahead.

"Wow, no laughs? Hmm. I just wanted to entertain you, Spike." King Anubis looked down at Rage, swaying unconscious in his clutches. "Should we entertain them, Ragey?" King Anubis scooped up Rage again, onto his shoulders.

"No!" White Tiger cried out. "Don't!"

"Don't WHAT?" King Anubis called back, hopping up to the ropes. "I'm not gonna kill him! Well, not really. I mean, what's one year off your miserable life--Rage?"

King Anubis jumped into the air, his meaty hands compressing Rage's legs into his abs, body inverted, head on King Anubis' beefy neck....

A world where my family is safe and happy. I know, not what you were expecting, was it? Truth be told, I once believed in Semyon's vision--a world ruled by the strong. But I have been champion of Firebird long enough to know well these games of constant backstabbing. Champions get old, only to be dethroned by the new blood. Rinse. Repeat. How exhausting, these ceaseless wrestling match. A world of the strong? Hah! It would never last. The powerful would destroy themselves, consuming each other like rats without a food source--the weak. Sounds dreadfully dull, to me.

I would desire something so much simpler. King Anubis, you can do what you will. I just want my family to be safe, happy. I think I would also like a lover. Someone who looks up to me like the god of fire that I am. I would protect him. Possess him utterly. Give him the world. I would be his king, forever. But...he better challenge me too. Yes, I don't want a door mat. I want someone who I can fight. 

Save your conquest. I just want to protect what I love, and I want nothing less than worship in return...

SLAM!

For a moment, Vahni Rage's hair went gray. His body no longer twitched. He was unconscious, knocked out for the first time in...well, since Spike.

King Anubis stood, hands gesturing out towards the audience---the 'worship me' pose that Rage was so found of doing post-wrecking his opponent. "Well. Am I not worthy of your adoration?"

King Anubis placed his foot on Rage's neck. "STAND FOR ME! OR I SNUFF YOUR GOD OF FLAMES."

The spellbreakers in the audience, listlessly got to their feet, in shame, bowing their heads.

Spike spat on the ground. He's even worse than Rage.

King Anubis crossed his arms over his chest, laughing mockingly. He looked down and rolled rag-doll Rage over once, then twice, pushing him out of the ring. "Out of my court PEASENT!" he spat. "Ohhhhh...I bet the folks at home have been waiting to see that for a very long time."

---

A geyser of dark water from the right. A cyclone of snowy wind from the left. Both converged on King Anubis. 

The giant merely stopped time and walked out of their way. "Pathetic."

But White Tiger, clad in special tights of gold and black stripes, smiled.

Knowing he would freeze time, as he had done before, Joseph tossed up a wall of water and mist, blanketing the ring in fog. He sped off...

"Hmmm?" King Anubis looked around the deep cloud bank. "Well, well. You don't disappoint me, champion. Unlike Rage, you at least make things interesting."

White Tiger crept silently along the ropes, like the stalking cat of his namesake. He knew he had only once chance. If King Anubis couldn't see him, then he couldn't activate his powers--Joseph had already calculated them during Rage's fight, and had share the information with Spike, Cian, and Iron. 

Five seconds. That's all King Anubis could manage.

It would be enough. Tiger positioned himself, locked onto his target, and leapt into the air with grace and agility, aiming his foot right for King Anubis' head. Joseph used the power of his wind magick to silence his movements. It would take one hit. Nobody had yet survived a Tiger Typhoon Kick.

King Anubis turned around and plucked Joseph out of the air by his foot--like catching a paper plane. "Catch a tiger by the...what's it now?"

"GAH!"

White Tiger fell to the mat, painfully. He attempted to bridge his back and yank his foot away from King Anubis--but the man was much stronger than him...or any other spellbreaker for that matter. He had twisted him around, onto his back in an instant.

"Oh yeah," Anubis said, clamping his beefy arms around Tiger's leg. "TOE HOLD"

"Gahhhh!" Joseph screamed out. The brute was bound to twist and rip Joseph's foot right off his angle, boot and all. Not even the most vicious heel had caused Joseph so much agony before. He had prepared himself to heroically endure the savagery, and allow his body to knock him out from the pain, but not even he could withstand this vile submission technique...

I desire a world of justice and harmony. 

When my father was alive, he tried to create that world. He set out to protect the weak and punish those who would use power to supress them. He failed in his endeavour; was led astray. 

I promised myself that I would be better. 

I learned not to punish the guilty, but to defend the innocent. To stay the course of the former would only lead me down the path of men like King Anubis; men who feel it's their divine right to mete out judgment. I never want to be like that. 

I just want those in power held accountable. For justice to be truly blind. Mine is a world of law. Is it so hard to envision such a place? Perhaps...

Despite his best efforts, Joseph found himself tapping. He slammed his fist against the mat and clenched his teeth, eyes going distant. 

This was humiliating!

King Anubis only let go, slightly--but kept Tiger in his grip. The masked menace turned his head towards Spike. "Look upon your pathetic hero, Spike. Truly understand how powerful I am. And...despair." 

Joseph grimaced. The bastard wouldn't let go.

"Wait til you get in the ring with me, punk!" Spike spat back. "Pulling that s*** on me will--"

"Only make you more powerful? Hahaha. Of course, Sailorboy. I know how your glyph works. Do you think I'll even allow you to come within three inches of me, you adorable fool? Ugh. Stop, squirming, Tiger." 

King Anubis rose, dragging White Tiger off the mat with ease! Joseph hung half in the air, limply, trying to claw himself out of harms way. Anubis reached back and tucked Joseph's head between his tanker-truck quads. He could probably snap it off easily if he wanted to.

Instead, King Anubis went for his Judgment Driver. "WEAK!" King Anubis roared. Like a massive statue falling onto a mouse (or kitten, in this case) the beefy hulk brought his entire body down on top of Joseph's neck. "I WILL CRUSH YOU WITH MY GLORY."

White Tiger would live, of course. That was the blessing of soma. But in that moment, he had never been subjugated to such one-sided brutality before. To add insult to grievous injury, King Anubis sat back on top of Tiger's chest, using his unconscious body as a throne, once again crossing his arms in triumph.

"Comfy!" he said. "Maybe I'll stay here on my new throne for awhile. Hehe. But I guess you have to breathe, don't you? And I wouldn't want to destroy everyone's favorite hero. I mean, think of all the kids that would cry! Seems more a pain in the ass than it's worth, for me..."

Kin Anubis sat up. For White Tiger, he was more amicable, scooping up his limp body and carrying him over to the side of the ring, where he dropped him on the soft cushioning set up outside. El Amante and Gio scrambled to retrieve his unconscious body and make sure he was alright.

Spike leered at the man he once called a friend, this sadistic 'so-called god' preening before him. "Next?" King Anubis laughed.

Spike placed his hands on the ring, ready to pull himself up--but the hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Wait."

Spike looked back at Cian. For this match, they'd agreed to 'swap' styles. After much encouragement, Cian had chosen to wear black trunks (marked with his green, Celtic-inspired logo). They were snug. Cian was a beefy, thick boy--something that had made him a bit shy to wear something so revealing. 

Now, however, Cian felt more powerful than ever. "Lave him to me," Cian sad, with confidence. His eyes sparkled with power.

Spike, dressed in low-cut, Navy blue butcher singlet (that somehow looked even more revealing than his usual briefs) balked. "Dude, he'll smear you."

"And he won't smear you? Stick to the plan, Sailor."

Behind them, King Anubis laughed. "Are you two girlies fighting? Honestly, your rivalry is so cute. Get a room already!"

Spike blushed. Cian raged. He pushed back Spike and entered the ring. He'd face him, with our without his friend's consent.

Cian had never looked so deadly serious before. He stared ahead. "Just one question before we do this," he said.

King Anubis placed his hand on his masked face, annoyed. "Ugh. Fine. Yes?"

"How come the Genesis Glyph didn't turn you into er...a gross blob monster like Semyon?"

"Oh!" King Anubis sounded grateful for the question, and even took a cross-legged seat in the center of the ring. It was almost a taunt--the man knew Cian wouldn't dare try and attack him while seated. 

"Well, gee, Faeblood--that is a good question. You should give yourself more credit. You're a good kid. That won't stop me from breaking every last bone in your body, but I thought you should know that. But, if I may throw out this needless bit of exposition midway through what's probably this story's denouement..."

Using his powers of creation, Anubis conjured up illuminated symbols in the air to illustrate his lesson.

"Semyon was born with the double glyphs of 'Death' and 'Life'. This unique combination allowed his cells to regenerate constantly, and keep his body healthy and alive--though clearly not attractive--provided he didn't suffer any mortal wound. Or, you know, have his heart ripped off by a big, beefy, long-haired heel."

He snapped his fingers. The symbols vanished into smoke. "Unfortunately, said blessing was also his downfall. Nobody on Earth can sustain a third glyph. Let alone sustain the most powerful one of all. Semyon's glyphs of Life and Death were enhanced by the glyph of Creation--his cells going into hyperdrive, constantly writing and rewriting his DNA. Hence, the Cronenberg.

"My glyph however--super special and awesome as it is--is just the singular one I own. And, it also allowed me to time-freeze the more...unstable aspects of the Genesis glyph. I can use it in perpetuity. Fitting for a god, no?" The giant rose, casting a long shadow over Cian. "Anyways, get over here so I can BREAK THAT CUTE FACE OF YOURS."

Cian sneered. He knew better than to try and make the first move. "Which face?" he said, as emerald green light surrounded his bulky build, dividing Cian into two versions of himself.

"Clever girl," King Anubis said--and per usual, he sounded more excited than concerned.

The two Cians ran the rings around him, bouncing off the ropes. King Anubis stood there, watching, waiting. In a flash, the giant spellbreaker threw his arms around one of the Cian's.

"GOT YOU--"

The wrong one. The illusory Cian stuck out his tongue before vanishing into particles of green light. King Anubis was unbothered. "What do you think you'll do if you catch me, kid? You think you can power bomb 400s pounds of Egyptian god?"

"Nope," Cian said, cheerfully, as he divided himself again and again, Cian doubles forming a circle around his target. "And I don't have to. Oh, and I fixed that little issue with the shadow too."

King Anubis tightened his fist. "You're just delaying the inevitable. And I AM inevitable, Faeblood."

Ringside, Mr. Iron beamed with pride. "Atta' boy, Cian."

The Cian clones closed in on King Anubis, standing like a Obelisk in the desert, immovable and exuding a regal aura of mystery. "Your magick is strong, Cian. Truly, commendable. I knew I picked you for a reason. But..."

Suddenly, King Anubis whipped around and dug his fingers into Cian's head with his claws, putting him in a tight grip. Cian's eyes immediately bugged out, and he fell to his knees in pain, his doubles mirroring his anguish as they vanished into sparks of light carried on the ring.

"Gah..." Cian gurgled, with King's tight fingers clawing into his head. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead. He'd been opened up by the jackal's claw grip!

King Anubis turned to look into John Henry's citrine colored eyes. "Sorry, is this your move?" he asked, mockingly. "You wanna watch as a crack little Cian's head open with my jackal claws like a farm fresh egg?"

Cian swallowed, hand ready to signal his defeat...

Aw, what the bloody hell do I know about settin' the world straight? I

'm not the one to make a wish like that. I'm just a poor kid from County Meath who's had the s*** kicked out of him since the day he was born. 

F*** this supervillain wish fulfilment. You want to talk wishes? I'm all about making your own in the world--but if I had to wish for anything...I just want to be strong enough that nobody ever messes with me or my friends, or family again. I don't need power like King Anubis. I just need enough.

But what does 'enough' look like?

I also want something else too. I just wanna' rest my head on a swell guy, lay down together under a tree on a hot summer day and do nothin' at all. I don't know what he looks like. I don't have a face in mind. 

Hell, maybe he even looks like Spike. 

All I know is, he make me feel happy and safe and loved, and like I'm worth something. This past year, you may have thought I'd just been fightin'. That ain't all true. I been healin' too. 

And I'm not going to stop either now. I've got the blood o' the fae in my veins. You can't beat me, boyo!

Then, Cian smiled. "That...all you got?"

"Huh?" King Anubis looked down at this foe's smug face, half covered in blood. "I gave you a crimson mask and you're still asking for punishment." King Anubis dug in deeper, but drew back his fee hand, ready to strike. "Gotta' hand it to you kid, you got much bigger balls than Tiger or Rage. Makes sense. You're Cu Cullen's descendant aren't you? Dude had some big, brass ones if I ever saw some!"

King Anubis's fist collided with Cian's head at blinding speed. The audience, gasping in horror, was shocked not to see a tooth or two fly clean out of his haw.

Cian hit the mat. Painfully. Groaning. 

King Anubis loomed over him, straddling him and flexing his bicep to show off his complete and total domination. "That's a good boy, Cian. You let big Anubis put you to..."

"Yes...daddy."

"...What?"

"Harder...daddy." Cian moaned. And...not a pained sounding moan either. "Please. I've been a real bad boy."

"Pardon the f***?" King Anubis' eyes widened behind his mask. He looked up to see the audience, just as confused. "Enough of this silly s***. I won't let a mortal like you make a mockery OF ME!!!"

King Anubis slammed his giant fists into Cian's face. Again and again. Even John Henry, battle-hardened as he was, was tempted to look away. He was going to turn Cian into ground beef. John had to get in there now.

Then, he saw Spike, hands placed casually against the ring apron. More specifically, however, he saw Spike's faint smile...and his eyes.

I thought Yankee's eyes were blue. Since when have they been....green?

In the ring, Cian's face was near unrecognizable. Busted, bruised, swollen, and bloody. And still he said. "...That all a god's got? Heh. Wimp."

"GAAAAHHHH!" King Anubis had broken out into a sweat at this point. But he wouldn't let Cian get the last laugh. "That was quite a show, Cian! Very entertaining. Forget power moves. I'm gonna break your damn n--hey...what happened to your accent?"

Cian, what was left of Cian's face, looked up, smiling. In a flash, the damaged to his face was gone! "You like pop culture references, putz? How's about this one? You just fell for my trap card."

King Anubis reeled back, disgusted. "Ugh. Habibi, that's cringe...WHAT DID YOU JUST--"

"Heh." Cian sat up, glowing an eerie blue aura. The pupils of his eyes suddenly shifted, from black, to the fire-orange glare of a glyph...Spike's glyph. Shining like a beacon, Cian's face peeled away in a stream of light, revealing a much different visage.

King Anubis' eyes flashed to ringside, where Spike had been standing a moment earlier. Only, it wasn't Spike that watched him, but Cian! 

"Then..."

King Anubis looked down, into Spike's eyes. "Thanks for powering up my glyph, sexy," Spike said. He leaned up and pushed King's mask up, not only blinding him, but leaving his open mouth vulnerable and open for.

"By Goddess!" Mr. Iron shouted. "He's going for a lip lock."

Spike pressed his mouth over King Anubis, injecting him with a concussive blast of built up energy. It was enough to knock the hulk back onto his back. 

The other spellbreakers in the audience jumped to their feet in disbelief and excitement. "HOLLLLYY SSSHHHHH--"

Spike stood up, unbothered and unbroken, wiping a trail of spittle. "WOO! Never kissed a god before. I like it."

King Abubis lunged. He wouldn't be humiliated by this punk.

But he didn't get far. Spike round house kicked the beast right in his masked face, sending him FLYING right across the ring. 

In the stands, Gio's jaw dropped. "WHAAAAT?!"

Iggy's eyes welled up with tears. He pointed to the ring. "That's my mentee, everyone. Yes, yes, you can thank my stellar tutelage."

And Spike was just as surprised as everyone else, not entirely sure what he'd just done! He looked down at his arm, trembling with energy. His veins popped. He felt like he had an unlimited supply of strength and stamina inside, ready to tap into.

He'd need it.

King Anubis, splayed across the ropes, pulled himself up. Half his mask ripped off his face, his exposed mouth twisted itself from anguished grimace into confident sneer. "Beautiful. I haven't set eyes on such a powerful twink since Alexander the Great."

Spike spat on the ground. "Did you just sleep your way through the ancient world?"

"Oh, like you wouldn't?"

Spike blushed. "Okay, you got me there." But instead of holding out his fist, Spike extended his hand. "Salim. Sarapis. King Anubis. Whatever you prefer to be called. Stop fu***n' around and chill, okay, big guy? I'm your pal. We don't need to do this. You've already shown how powerful you are! You don't need a glyph to change the world, bud! Not with a mind and muscles like yours!"

Spike stepped forward. John Henry, tensed, watched him warily. Be very careful, Spike. The hero gimmick might not work this time.

"You can keep your belt." Spike said. His smile could break hearts, maybe even that of a god. "The world is just gettin' to know King Anubis, right? Let's go home, to the GSA, order some pizzas, and talk. You already saved the day, King! You're...a hero!"

King Anubis craned his head towards Spike (well, really, he looked down). His sneer faded, turning neutral. Spike remained steadfast. Everyone held their breath.

King Anubis tugged his mask down back over his face. "I wish...I wish it were that easy. But..."

The feared god threw out his hand and grabbed Spike's arm, dragging him closer into danger. He held him close. "I've come too far to give up. I WILL shape the world, Spike. You want in...?"

King gripped down on Spike's arm, hard, threatening to break it with sheer force. Spike reared his back and cried out in pain. 

"THEN FIGHT...." the muscle beast said, clutching Spike's beck and lifting him straight off the canvas, suspending him, watching his legs kick out as he choked him in mid-air.

"...TO YOUR LAST BREATH."

To Be Continued...

Chapter 9: We Could Be Heroes

What have I ever wanted? To be a hero. Duh!

No. That's not it... That's not the truth. I'll tell you what my real wish is.

It's to be loved.

Kind of lame sounding, I know.

But by who? 

Like the others, I want a world where everyone can be happy. Where I can walk down the street holding my boyfriend or husband's hand, without anybody saying anything that would make me want to pop them in the damn mouth!

I wonder, if the world was a nicer place, would I have turned out so scrappy? Would I be more peaceful? Ugh, would that mean I would never become a fighter? 

I want a world where John Henry and Sandra and their kid can move to whatever damn neighborhood they want and not only be safe, but welcomed with open arms. 

I want a world where Lily doesn't have to explain her body and mind to people just to be accepted for the person she is. 

I want a world where kids who grew up like 'me' can see me kick butt on TV and know there's someone out there fighting for them. 

But aside from all that stuff...I want love the most.

I've never known it. I keep looking for it. I keep f***ing it up. Nobody knows how empty I am inside. How I'm always afraid I am to lose, because it might people won't think I'm strong, or worth their attention. 

I push people away for stupid reasons too. Cian. Buck. Vahni. I look at these men like gods, and put them on a damn pedestal...before I realize how they're just handsome schmucks like me. Flawed. 

I wish I could be okay with flawed.  

There are no gods here. Not even King Anubis. Sure, I could wish for a world where's he king of all--I could be his consort. I know he'd give me a whole harem of hunks, and nights full of endless pleasure. But it wouldn't be worth it. It wouldn't be 'real'.

I guess this means I'm gonna' have to keep searching. And I sure as hell am gonna' keep on fighting. 

I may not be World Champion...yet...

Spike forced out the words, even as his oxygen began to fade. "But...I can be champion of people's hearts!" 

King Anubis gripped harder, clenching his teeth. "You're a black hole, Spike. Energy. Love. You just keep taking. Where does it end?"

Spike closed one eye, and opened the other. "Did you just call me...a bottom?" I think I'm gonna pass out. So much for being choked out by muscle daddies and liking it...

"TCH!" Maybe King Anubis was imagining things, but the little punk was heavier than he'd thought. Still, King Anubis held him higher. He wanted everyone to see the great Sailorboy's downfall. 

Take away the hero. Take away the hope. Maybe there wouldn't be a champion after all. King Anubis was starting to settle in with the idea. At this point, it was impossible for the giant magi to see any futures. Too much was in flux. Made things hell of a lot more interesting.  

Maybe there wouldn't be a world to come after all. What would that mean?

King of the Ashes? On an empty planet? A void? The very thing I set out to prevent...NO. NO! NOOOO! I'LL DESTROY EVERY SPELLBREAKER TO PREVENT IT. EVEN YOU, SPIKE.

"You claim to want love, but you're a slave to lust," King Anubis spat out. Behind his mask, his bloodshot eyes burned brighter than Spike had ever seen. He really did look like the god of death. "You wouldn't know what love was if it walked up to you and slapped that cute ass of yours. Also...have you been eating more pizza than usual, kid? You're kinda heavy..."

Spike, trying to keep his eyes opened, looked down, and grinned. "What's...wrong, wuss? Not as strong as you thought?"

The truth was, Spike's glyph aura was only increasing in intensity. King Anubis trusted his own might well enough that he knew even Spike going into his silly little 'Overdrive' mode wouldn't be enough to defy his strength. 

Still, the little pinup boy was giving him one hell of a run around. 

"I'm proud of you, Spike," King Anubis said. "You almost had me there! You showed more grit than your little friends, actually. But now...now your dreans end with me. YOUR NEW GOD."

Spike looked up. Actually looked up. King Anubis hadn't even realized that he'd let his feet tough the ground. 

"What was that?" Spike smurked. "Hey, King. You're looking kind of tired, my guy. Almost like...someone sapped all the energy outta' ya?"

!!!!

"Tee hee." Spike smiled. "Did I do that?" But his cute façade quickly shattered, giving way to a white-eyed fiend. "Let. Go. Of. My. Arm."

Asking, of course, was but a formality. Spike used his other hand and grabbed down on King Anubis' arm, which might as well have been carved out of solid obsidian. 

The giant winced. "That's...some grip you got there, kiddo."

"DON'T CALL ME KIDDO." Spike roared. His blue aura suddenly became white hot, as King Anubis fell to his knees in pain.

"Dios mio," El Amante gasped.

Next to her cousin. Rosa covered her mouth. She held Gio's hand tighter. 

The entire audience was on its feet now. Cian and John Henry had to cover their eyes and step away. With all attention focused on the ring, nobody noticed the glyph embedded inside King Anubis conjured throne starting to wobble...and crack. 

Rainbow particles of light flowed freely from King Anubis into Spike. He wasn't just absorbing his energy any longer...but his glyph too.

"Took me a damn while," Spike said, breathing heavily, feeling the energy course through his nervous system. "But I finally mastered my magick. I'm not just a damn good fighter, King. I'm a pretty badass magi too!" Sweat dripped from his hair (had it gotten longer recently?). "You say I'm a black hole? Nah, that ain't it. All that love, all that energy that comes my way...I take it and and I give it back, double strength!"

"I'll put an end to this..." King Anubis said. "Heel tactics be damned." He snapped his fingers, willing time to stop.

It didn't.

Spike's hair, which had suddenly, truly grown in length over the last minute or so, flowed down over his shoulder like a gilded, regal lion's mane. He appeared taller. His muscles, certainly, had enlarged.

"LOOKING FOR THIS?" Spike said, snapping his fingers.

King Anubis froze.

The audience gasped. Floating gently over Spike's palm, like a butterfly, was a small facsimile of a glyph, a pyramid and an inverted pyramid, like a crude apprixmation of an hour glass. Keen eyes recognize it as the glyph Temporis. The Glyph of Time.  

King Anubis' glyph.

Mr. Iron stepped back. The student had indeed surpassed the teacher. "He...absorbed his glyph." He could barely believe the words. He feared the implications even more.

"I AM NO LONGER BABY..." Spike said, roaring, and taking a warrior's stance. Now, it was him who appeared divine--a shining, gilded, warrior god. "I WANT POWER."

King Anubis growled. "ENOUGH ANIME BULLS***. I'LL DESTROY YOU, YOU MISERABLE TWINK."

"I'M A TWUNK!" Spike charged forward and punched King Anubis right in the face. The man's mask shattered. Half of it, anyway.

King Anubis, unfrozen, fell to the ground. Stunned, but far from unconscious, the giant man touched his face and pulled back blood. Spike had made him bleed.

The other half of his jackal mask hung over King Anubis face, making his mad eyes look that more deranged. "You...you went Super Saiyan." King Anubis spat blood on to the canvas, and rose off the ground to face his hyper-enhanced foe, now on the same footing. "NOBODY MAKES ME BLEED."

"'CEPT ME!" Spike shouted, thundering forward like a runaway train. "AND I'M SICK OF YOUR STRUPID REFERENCES."

"Your cute new power is temporary," King Anubis shot back. He reached out and grabbed Spike's hands, matching him, muscle for muscle, in a test of strength. "I don't care if you go full power or not. You CANNOT win this! I've seen all possible timelines now."

"F*** THE TIMELINES!"

Spike braced against King Anubis. King Anubis braced against Spike. To the crowd, it looked like either men's muscles might actually tear open and burst any second. Thankfully, this was not the case.

King Anubis pressed his head against Spike, eye to eye. "You're good, Spike. You almost beat me. But...you still have a long journey ahead of you." 

He smiled. His voice softened. "In my new world...I hope to see you continue it."

Spike's jaw clenched. He felt the power slip away. Drain from him. At the last second, Spike let King Anubis push forward, and then slammed his knee right into his hard gut.

"GAH!" King Anubis grunted.

"That's not going to stop me," Spike said through his teeth. "I may make mistakes. I may accidentally break a few hearts on the way. Heavens knows, I've broken mine more than once. But one day...I'm gonna get it right with someone. Dude, I'm only twenty-three! Do you know how long I had to hide myself from the world to get this far? There's nothing wrong with messing up. That's me. Fall down. Get back up. My tag partner is out there somewhere! I'm gonna find him. And....I'M NOT GONNA LET YOU TAKE OVER THE WORLD BEFORE I GET ME A BOYFRIEND, YOU ROIDED UP, CIRCUIT QUEEN BITCH!"

King Anubis was like solid bronze. But even bronze could crack. King Anubis fell back, and Spike didn't let the moment pass. He attacked King Anubis with a flurry of punches, pouring all of his power into the final volley. The light around Sailorboy Spike began fading, his hair receding back into its shortly cropped length. Sighing, bruised, bloodied, and exhausted, Spike fell before King Anubis.

Only the wind intruded on the silent city of Kitezh.

Purpls bruises, splotches of blood, and red welts danced across the surface of King Anubis' skin. Spike's attack had left his golden mask, hanging from his face, soaked crimson red, giving the already fearsome man an even more demonic appearance. Streaked with blood, across face and chest, King Anubis reached out and grabbed Spike's shoulders. Instead of bearing down in a nerve trap, or a clutch, however, King Anubis merely held his hands there. He sighed.

Whatever silent words Spike and King Anubis exchanged, they were spoken through their eyes only.

Spike nodded. He smiled.

As did King Anubis. 

"For this effort," King Anubis began softly, pulling Spike up onto his shoulders, still easily manging to invert the boy on his back, "Your life will remain entirely intact. You have shown me that you can live it to the fullest. But, your quest for my championship belt ends here. You will not be champion, Spike Waterford." 

"Not today..."

King Anubis jumped into the air and performed his Lifeshaver muscle buster. In an instant, Spike--already drained of stamina--knocked out, falling to the floor, limp. In sleep, he looked like a fallen hero. His face was not the pained grimace of Vahni Rage, but a slumbering angel. King Anubis gently pulled Spike off the ground, threw him across the shoulder, and placed him outside the ring.

The spellbreakers watching, all fell silent. Cian, on the verge of tears, looked to Mr. Iron. "Is this it? Is...this how the world ends?"

Mr. Iron turned his head, and sighed. Then, he thought of Sandra. His child. His eyes met King Anubis, the wild, bloody god standing in the center of the ring. Waiting.

Wordlessly, Mr. Iron pulled himself through the ropes...and cracked his neck, ready for a fight.

Nervous whispers erupted from the bleachers. Cian, falling to Spike's side, attended to his friend, but kept his eyes on the action.

Mr. Iron walked forward, towards his opponent. He stopped, placing his hand on his hips, staring King Anubis down.

King Anubis gladly met his challenge. "Oh? You're approaching me?" He flexed sweat and blood of his body, like a beast shaking off a fresh kill. "Instead of running away, you're coming right to me?"

Mr. Iron grunted. Then, he grinned. He motioned for King Anubis. Bring it on.

King Anubis looked down at his massive hand. The Glyph of Temporis flashed briefly, a phantom, before dissipating into the magi's skin. Spike's new ability seemed to be tempory, which more of a relief to Mr. Iron than anyone else.

"Well, Johnny cakes...looks like I have my glyph back now. Which is too bad for you." King Anubis, dripping blood, but otherwise no worse for wear, took his time meeting Mr. Iron in the center of the ring. "Your time's run out." 

He snapped his fingers.

Per usual, King Anubis had breached the gap between him and his opponent in the blink of an eye. He shot out his fist.

It collided with solid gold, breaking it instantly.

King Anubis' howl cut through the audience, whose blood nearly froze on the spot. Nobody knew what had happened. It took several seconds before it dawned on them...

King Anubis clutched his shattered hand, looking up as Mr. Iron's golden body resumed its normal composition of man and matter. 

The handsome, bald-headed bull in the silver singlet was, as always, amiable and cordial. "Didn't expect that, did you big man?"

"You...you..." King Anubis clutched his hand. He couldn't use his powers now. Maybe Mr. Iron knew that. He always knew more than he let on, after all.

"What is a god?" Mr. Iron started, walking forward, "to a legend?"

King Anubis glared. "You need to work on your trash talk," he sniped. Then, he sighed.

"Yeah. Probably. Iron can rust when it doesn't get much wear."

"Not Iron," King Anubis said. "But gold, it seems." Shaking, trying not to show the raw anguish and pain from his broken hand show, King Anubis looked over at Spike. "I said you couldn't win this, Spike, and I mean it. It's not your time."

Then, the god--the first spellbreaker and World Champion--looked up at Mr. Iorn. "It's his."

With all eyes on what happened next, nobody noticed the Genesis Glyph starting to wobble, continuing to fracture. Nobody, that is, except for Spike--who, as he came to consciousness--was in perfect sight-line of the Forbidden Glyph.

Back in the ring, Mr. Iron charged at King Anubis, lifting him up into the air, and higher still. 

To this day, nobody can quite explain what happened, how Mr. Iron pulled off this technique, or what magicks were at work. The most Mr. Iron would ever allude to is a vague suggestion of magnetic force, but even this--as they say--is but legend.

Whatever happened in that moment, Mr. Iron reached the apex, touching the sky. With King Anubis, a bloody mess, tucked between his legs, he took that moment to look out across the clouds. Mr. Iron would tell you he'd managed to breach the red thunderhead, summoned as a by-product of the Genesis Glyph. There, he looked out over a clear blue sky, at the world below.

It was a beautiful thing.

Congrats, Iron. It looks like you won this thing after all. So, what'll it be? What kind of world would you like your good friend Salim to whip up for you? Claim your wish.

My wish? Hell...I know what my wish would be of course. I don't want my kid to grow up in a world that hates them as much as it hated their old man. I want a world that, when my wife kisses them goodbye for school, she doesn't hold her breath and pray as she watches them go, wondering if they'll come back home at all... 

I wish we could wave a wand and get rid of this poison on Earth called 'hatred'. But tell me, King Anubis, what does that look like to you? 

Even the Glyph of Genesis can't just 'erase' things like racism and prejudice. How do you quantify that, John? What it can do, however, is get rid of anybody you want. That politician on TV, foaming at the mouth over a bill that will strip someone's rights away just so he can feel better about himself at night? The preacher in the pulpit spouting fire and brimstone over whichever group he doesn't like? That cop who decides to give himself the power of the law, life, and death just to feel in control? All of them, erased, with the snap of a finger. A world without hate looks like a world without those who are compelled to hatred. 

I can grant you that power. In fact, call me biased...but that's the world I wanted anyway. I can support you, John Henry Iron, with that world. I trust the future, my future, to you. 

I know. And I should take it...

So why the hesitancy, large friend?

Wait, aren't I in the middle of pile driving you? How is this conversation even happening?

Narrative construct? Metaphor? Gives this whole thing a bit of gravitas, no?

Er...I guess? 

Take it. Take my power. Realize your wish. I need only your consent. What will it be?

I should take it. I shouldn't...hesitate. What have been fighting for, marching for all my life? But I gotta' ask you...where does it end? Will these people you speak of, the forces I've fought against since the day I was born, even be allowed to change their hearts?

What makes you think they will?

I know.... 

I may be a champion, Salim. But I'm no hero. If I was really brave, if I really could walk the walk, I'd take you up on your offer without hesitation. It's tempting. Too tempting. I feel like if I don't, I'm going to throw all my brothers and sisters, and people like Spike, Lily, and anybody who deserves a world without cruelty, under the bus...

But I just...if people's hearts can still be changed. If people can be shown the light. At least given a chance...

Yeah, but who often does that actually happen?

But it does. I've seen it.

Tell that to the tyrant who can end millions of lives with a single word. You really think enough movements and marches and songs can change a heart like that?

I'm not saying violence isn't sometimes necessary. It is, regrettably. But with a wish like the one you are offering...it would turn any saint into a tyrant. And I ain't no saint, no matter what my friends and family think of me. 

No man, even well intentioned, should be in control of so many lives. Nobody is perfect like that. What you'd be asking me to do is repeat the cycle.

Only...who would defy us, John? With a glyph of ultimate control?

Five minutes ago, you thought nobody could defy 'you'. And yet, here we are.

...

Right. No. I won't do it. Call me a coward. A traitor to my ideals. I won't. Instead, I'm choosing the longer, harder path. I don't need a glyph to change the world. 

Yeah, but it would certainly make it a hell of a lot easier.

That may be. But...I want to give my kid a world where they can seek their own path. What kind of man will I become if I become an arbiter of morality, who lives and dies by my judgment? Nobody should have a power like that. Even if they're well intended. So, I choose the coward's path.

I, John Henry Iron, refuse your offer.

I do this 'my' way.

Mr. Iron brought the sky down...and King Anubis with it. 

Some say that on impact, the ring itself split in two. 

More zealous types, real "Iron-Heads" of course, well tell you that Mr. Iron's Piledriver split even the earth in two, leaving behind a fissure that can still be seen in the ruins of Kitezh to this day. 

Still, other say this driver technique, the 'God-Breaker', has never been replicated, leaving Mr. Iron the only spellbreaker alive to pull off the feat. 

All lament the fact that second world championship finals were never record or televised, making all stories about their mysterious conclusion nothing more than rumor and speculation. 

Maybe it's all for the best. After all, it's moments like these that give spellbreaking, and pro wrestling, a sense of mystique.

Nevertheless, when Mr. Iron emerged from the crater, to roaring applause--to spellbeaking cohorts throwing each other out of the way just so they could be the one to embrace him first (Titan Gio, the biggest of the spectators, got to him ahead of everyone else). Nobody could scarcely form a coherent sentence. All was shock and awe and revelry. 

In the steaming wreckage left over from Mr. Iron's definitive finisher, a crooked hand--the one still intact--struggled to make a motion with its fingers. A flash of multi-hued light poured forth towards the crowd of celebrants, lifting Mr. Iron onto their shoulders (a great feat, in its own respects). 

A massive, golden, championship belt--studded with diamonds--materialized over Mr. Iron's shoulders, ex nihilo. The veteran spellbreaker, who still couldn't quite believe what had happened, couldn't find the words to make sense of it. Regardless, he couldn't get the chance. As he held the belt up in the air, for all to see, the spellbreakers roared anew. 

Even Deadboy Daemian, sullen as he was, couldn't contain his excitement. Brax, right alongside him, howled.

"THAT'S MY COACH, BRO!" Icewolf cried out, face full of emotional tears.

Groaning, and near death, King Anubis--decades of borrowed years erased by Mr. Iron's devastating finisher, pulled himself out of the wreckage. He looked over at the victorious. He looked over at the unconscious Rage, Colt, and Tiger, who he'd bested. Sighing, but unable to summon up any energy for anger, or loss, or joy, he simply waved his hands towards the injured.

And then, they were all uninjured. And awoken. Rage. Tiger...

And Colt 'The Bolt', coming to on a cot next to the bleachers, just happened to crane his head in time to see the festivities--and make sense of it. He was glad nobody noticed his timely recovery. 

"He damn did it," Colt said, finding himself losing his composure. "My...hero."

Hence, the sudden downpour. 

Cian, briefly distracted by the crowning of the world champ, looked down at Spike...and the ground beneath and around him. "Huh...?"

Spike was awaken now (barely). But that wasn't what Cian noticed. The earth, broken cobblestone, dirt, and dead grass, was...shimmery. Shiny. Glowing with rainbow light. Cian looked up to the sky and saw a rainfall in all colors. It was strange. Beautiful. 

It still bothered him.

Cian cupped his hands over his mouth. "Hey, guys." He looked over his shoulder, sensing a strong energy radiating from King Anubis' throne. The glyph atop was glowing, vibrating, pulsating with energy. Fissures of black light had begun forming across its luminous surface.

Not good.

"Oy, boyos!" Cian called back, getting to his feet. He pointed in the direction of the ominous light. "And lasses, and none of the above. I think we might have bigger things demanding our attention right now."

The short-lived celebration cut off. Mr. Iron, lowered safely to the ground, slunk his championship belt over his shoulder. He and the others moved slowly, but cautiously, in the direction of the light. Rage and Tiger, re-joining the world of the awoken, joined them in their growing concern.

Meanwhile, King Anubis had managed to lift himself--painfully--into a sitting position. Annoyed, defeated, but fair, the Time Magi used his newly acquired gifts to heal himself. The shattered bones re-joined themselves, cracking back into place (as painful as it sounds). The blood on his body receded, skin healing itself in rapid time. Even King Anubis mask rethreaded itself...though curiously, its style and shape was changed.

Lastly, King Anubis looked down at his completely shattered hand. He grunted...finding the Genesis Glyph...resistant to his demands. His hand mended itself, slowly. And then, it kept going. His fingers grew longer, turning first into the claw of some strange beast, then a bird talon, and then into a scaled version of a human hand.

King Anubis grunted. He seethed. "DAMN IT. Why is it ALWAYS the hand!?"

There was no rumbling in the ground nor sky, just a sudden, loud CRACK as the earth around the throne opened up, the construct sinking sideways into the fissure. 

The spellbrekaers gasped. Gio and Rosa, acting on instinct, combined forces and conjured up a blanket of roots to try and needle-and-thread the broken ground back into stability. The rainbow light from the throne reacted, transforming these roots into solid crystal beams. The air around it became snow, and then a shower of gold, before even the city around them--towers and all--began rapidly transforming. The scenery went from lost antiquity, to modern spires, to strange, futuristic buildings--night and day rapidly shifting between the other. An aurora appeared overhead, drowning out the blood red sky. Stars, in the thousands, began falling.

Spike, with shallow breaths, lifted himself off the ground and looked into the starry cascade. "It's...the end of the world."

Elsewhere, reacting to the sudden shift in reality, the world powers did as expected: began to queue up the launch codes for their missiles. 

As King Anubis had foreseen, this timeline had ran its course. 

Were the priests and priestesses of the church present, were the Great Hierophant of the Mother himself available to lay eyes on the misuse of the Genesis Glyph, he would have called it the ultimate penance for the ultimate transgression. 

Either way, King Anubis had truly passed his judgment--and this world was at its end.

"I...can't control it," the giant said, approaching the bewildered and exhausted spellbreakers. He held up his hand, staving off their reaction. He was no longer a threat. "There was...one timeline where this might happen." He clutched his hand, which had now become a long, slimy tentacle. "Some luck of the coin toss, eh?"

Spike, recovered--but limping--looked down at King Anubis' tranfigured arms. "Serves you right," he said.

King Anubis looked at him with tired eyes. "You're gonna' be a little s*** to the bitter end, aren't you, habibi?"

"You bet." Spike looked over at the throne. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his heart began to beat faster. "Mr. Iron. Coach. Congrats. You deserved to be world champion."

Mr. Iron swallowed, already concerned where this might be heading. "Hey, thanks, kid. Your time will come."

Spike's lip quivered. "I think...it already has."

Colt clutched his chest, and looked around at the ones he loved His family. Spike's family. "This isn't the end. I've pulled jack rabbits out of hats before. We gotta' do something."

Spike would, anyway. He looked down at his hand. He'd been granted a new gift. He could syphon energy. 

"Oh well, nothing to lose." He stepped forward. toward the radiant object pulling in light and sound. 

El Amante, of all people, rushed to restrain him. "Hey, chico, what are you doing?"

"Please, let go of me," Spike said, choking back a sob. His whole body trembled with adrenaline, brought on by fear. Every cell in his body resisted him.

El Amante did as told. But it hurt his heart to do so. He felt Spike's emotions. 

He knew what he was about to do.

Spike approached the throne, finding himself awash in rainbow light. It was warm. Pleasant. But it was wrong. Spike held out his hand, and felt the pulse of energy. Just like before, just like with King Anubis, he could now reach out and grab hold of the threads making up the energy and particles defined only by the physics of magick. With King Anubis, the power had been finite, but strong. Spike had seized it and brought it into his being, with only a bit of exertion.

These threads of energy, however, were endless. They made Spike tired. They made him want to lay down and sleep, for a very long time.

"I wish I could have said so much more to Buck," Spike mumbled. 

He had seen this movie before. This is where the hero would normally turn to his friends, take sight of their tear-streaked faces, and tell them 'thanks'. But Spike knew if he did that, if he lingered on a thought or a feeling for much longer, he might not be able to do what he had to do next.

Guess I'm a pretty crap hero, Spike thought, as he opened the floodgates to his glyph. The power that came forward, syphoned from the glyph, was overwhelming and endless. It was like being electrocuted by sunshine, or maybe even what it might be like to throw oneself into lava, and feel it all, before it burned oneself alive. 

Nevertheless, the power came, in abundance. Endless. Unrelenting. Overwhelming.

Within seconds, Spike blacked out. All he saw, was pure, white light.

And then...

To Be Continued

Chapter 7: The Forbidden Glyph

Centuries of erosion and layers of lakebed algae had turned the once pristine steeples and towers of Kitezh into a decayed city. Broken cobblestone pathways, caked with snow and ice, trailed off between empty foundations and ruined stucco buildings. Only the the stone towers, belfries and steeples of tarnished bronze, stood watchful. 

As the audience members took their seats in the stands located in the central plaza (brought in and built special for the occasion) the once-excited spectators grew uneasy with the eerie surroundings. It was a lot like watching a spellbreaking match in a cemetery. The lost city, which had sat at the bottom of the lake since Koschei's failed ritual several hundred years ago, carried a lonesome, funerary atmosphere that was nevertheless brimming with old magick.

Colt--wearing his best suit and bolo tie--took his skybox seat and looked up from the ring in the center the plaza. The church steeples around the city resembled upwards daggers, or the fingers of a dead, skeletal hand clawing at the sky. Something about this configuration bothered him deeply. 

Hell of a lot of church towers, Colt thought. Guess they were really religious back then. He remembered the legends speaking of how the faith f the citizens of Kitezh saved them, preserving their souls and their city at the bottom of the lake--but Colt knew better now. Nobody had survived the massacre, and if anything, Kitezh's vanishing was the result of divine punishment, not salvation.

"Ladies and gentleman and everyone in-between," Boomer Harlow howled from his spectator table. If anybody was most excited about the world championships, it was him. "Get ready for the first match of the night! And it's a doozy. These two big boys are ready to show you what spellbreaking is really about."

Titan and Bear Mischa. Colt watched the two enter the ring from separate sides. Boomer was right--they were big. Titan, dressed in just his gladiator-inspired, leopard print gear, stared down Bear Mischa, Firebird's biggest bruiser--clad in a solid, red 'strong man' singlet. It was like looking at the good and 'bad' versions of the same warrior, Colt thought (though he heard Bear Mischa was actually a huge mama's boy and an incredibly softie). 

With a roaring grunt, the two beasts locked up, commencing the world championships in earnest. The crowd hollered. Colt, scanning the excitable audience, wondered how many of these spectators were secretly Aradia peace keepers in disguise. He faked scratching his ear, tucked beneath his white cowboy hat. Really, he triggered his ear-piece, sending out a 'ping' to the other magi positioned strategically around the ring.

Sitting in the same position on the stands on the other side of the ring, Lily Suarez, dressed in an blush-coloured pantsuit, pressed her hand to her sunflower pendant, sending back a signal to both Colt and Slayer. "Are we in position?"

The later agent, positioned high atop the bell tower, with a trained sniper at his side, tucked his ponytail beneath the collar of his skin-tight body suit, and adjusted his sunglasses. The enhanced lenses zeroed in on the ring, scanning the audience for threats.

"Confirmed. No sign of Semyon," the former soldier, and current (non-participating) Firebird spellbreaker huffed. Down below, Titan picked up Bear Mischa and slammed him into the mat, setting off the audience.

Slayer, a trained soldier, looked out and over the crowd. He detected movement, somewhere beyond the bell tower. Just as he did, his eyes glossed over the faded symbol--worn away by years of water erosion--on the side of the belfry. Slayer recognized it as a glyph--specifically, the Glyph of Shadow, Tenebreus.

"Tornasol," Slayer said into his headpiece, calling for Lily's codename, "mayhaps you've noticed the symbology on the city steeples."

"Glyphs. Yes. I'm looking into it..." 

Down beneath the Tower of Shadow, Deadboy Daemian (dressed in a black pea coat for the wintery weather) ran alongside his demonic companion, Brax (who needed no additional protection from the elements). The two stopped at an intersection, a promenade flanked by the broken statues of cherubs, and tilted, rusted lamps that hadn't been lit in centuries. The demon huffed, his breath a visible vapor in the cold air. He pointed in the right direction, and Deadboy followed.

The twenty-one belfries of Kitezh were somewhat anomalous, to the untrained eye that is. Aside from the belles they house, they all housed nothing but a small antechamber, open on all four sides, and a winding staircase leading to the the belfry beneath their steepled roofs. It was in one such chamber that Daemian, breathing heavily, came upon his Auntie Jacinda.

However Semyon had moved her and Uncle Daniel, he hadn't given them proper clothing for the weather. She was still in her nightgown. Cradled and manacled in the arms of an enormous, largely featureless statue --an anthropomorphic lump of clay, with the vaguest suggestion of eyes and mouth--the unconscious woman's head drooped to the side, her curly, white hair tumbling over the statue's arm. 

Rage and loss shot through Daemian's heart. He held his hand up to his foster mother and activated his glyph, immediately relieved to feel her pulse of life. She was alive. But why was she here? What the hell was the point of any of this?

"Daemian!"

Deadboy had been so lost in thought that he failed to pick up on the sound of heavy stone against the earth coming up from behind him. He turned his head, just in time to see the stone against the chapel at his back come to life--take shape--and entangled itself around Brax. The demon roared, summoning chains of living shadow to try and pry him loose, but it was all in vain. The liquid stone took the form of the same type of statue-entity gripping Auntie Jacinda. Daemian marched forward to try and do something about it--nobody messed with his found family, after all--but found his leg suddenly caught. 

The earth, the concrete beneath his boots, had grabbed hold of him. A shape rose around him; a prison of stone. He blinked, and found himself embraced by the tight arms of the golem, being dragged off to an uncertain end...

He was not on the only one. While all attention focused on the action in the ring, spellbreakers and magi alike, watching from the wings, found themselves in similars predicament. 

This city was alive, and it was moving against them.

---   

Colt, and the audience too, for that matter, wince and groaned as Bear Mischa dropped all 400 pounds of himself from the top rope, onto Gio, flattening the muscle man out. The three count was crisp. The bell rang. 

The Titan had fallen.

"This ain't good..." Colt muttered under his breath. Of course, Gio would be fine, physically. He could brush anything off, and had a solid-ego to boot, so one loss wouldn't chip away at his self-esteem. Mischa, despite his bombastic roaring, was gracious, and even helped his defeated opponent limp away from the ring.

"Colt."

The cowboy pressed his finger to his earpiece. "We not doing the fun name thing for me? Come on. You know how much I love that."

He could barely identify Lily in the crowd across the way. "I was just down by the changing area. We can't find Deadboy or Brax anywhere."

As Colt processed this, he looked over to where Gio and Mischa had been standing, seconds before. They were gone. He swallowed, uncomfortable. "Little lady, I got a bad feeling. I know when a storms' comin' on. This is a big one. Somethin' ain't right."

"Stay there," Lily said, sharply. "Don't move. Pretend like nothing is wrong. Leave this to Aradia."

Colt sighed and said nothing more. Down by the ring, Boomer Harlow set the stage for the next match. Mr. Iron vs Ivan the Wolf, Firebird's baby face champ. The handsome, smiling Russian with the intimidating muscles shook John Henry's hand. Colt almost didn't notice Mr. Iron was sporting some non-traditional gear--a silver, body-clinging singlet that showed off his massive physique quite nicely. The big man easily won himself a few wolf-whistles from the crowd. 

Sandra would be so jealous, Colt thought to himself, enjoying this brief moment of levity. The bell rang, and the bruisers went at it, channelling both magic and muscle into their craft. Ivan had the athleticism, Mr. Iron had the brawn and momentum. It was anybody's guess who would come out on top.

Meanwhile, atop his perch, Slayer St. George adjusted his binocular sunshades, this time zeroing in on Icewolf and Iggy Astro, who had volunteered to monitor the adjoining street outside the plaza, in search of Koschei or any of his underlings. As they conversed, Slayer caught a glimpse of two of those oversized, walking statues barrelling towards them from opposite ends of the ancient street.

"Tch." Slayer made a motion with his fist and pointed in the direction of the enemy. The Aradia sniper locked his rifle and aimed his crosshairs at the golems. Just as he did, the gargoyle atop the steeple above them reached down and grabbed the sniper by the collar, hoisting him into the air. 

"GAAAH!" He didn't even have time to pull the trigger. His magick bullet casings clinked to the ground, and he was lifted off into the sky.

"They have flight capabilities?" Slayer grunted. Gritting his teeth, he looked down at the ground and unzipped the back of his skin-tight suit. "Someone must be controlling them." He pressed his ear piece. "Tornesol--"

"I know," the woman said, already excusing herself from the excited audience, watching as Ivan dodged Mr. Iron's haymaker. The light magi pushed her way down the stairs. "They're golems. Invention of Czech alchemists. Sev, do you see any sygils or engravings atop their heads? Any markings?"

Slayer leaned forward and tossed his shades aside, hands gripping the edge of his perch. The skin on his muscular back rippled, and then split open, two leathery wings--like a dragon's--sprouting from his back. The burst of pain caused him to break out into a sweat. It had been awhile since he'd used his glyph for flight. 

"Not that I can see," Slayer wheezed. He took a deep breath. "I'm going after one of our men. I--"

He was cut off by a sudden blow from the right. An unseen gargoyle knocked him clean off the roof. Slayer recovered mid air and fought back, kicking off the steeple and accelerating into the cold, Russian sky. He watched in dismay as his earpiece fell faster and faster towards the Earth. All around him, a swarm of stone golems, winged gargoyles, centered in on his target.

"Wyvern?" Lily whisper-shouted into her earpiece. No response. She pressed her back to the bleachers and winced, just as the crowd reacted to another move. She ran past the barricade towards an archway, hoping to stop the golems from grabbing her companions. 

By the time she reached the snowy street, Iggy had collapsed. The pink-haired spellbreaker in the fuchsia leather jacket, looked up at the three golems who had kicked him to the ground, and smiled.

"I've been shot before," they said, conjuring up a javelin of light and shooting it at the golem who had raised its foot to try and kick him. "You think I'm afraid of a bunch of tacky statuary?" The spellbreaker whipped their head towards Lily. "Oh good, another Light user. What we gonna' do, bicha, dazzle them with a laser show like we're at the damn planetarium?"

Lily ignored the sass and extended her threads of golden light around the golem's legs, binding them together fast and knocking him down. "Where's Icewolf?" she shouted.

Iggy's eyes bugged out from their attractive face. "Did you just pull off a double-leg takedown with light magick?" 

Lily smirked. "Feel free to steal it for your next match."

Of course, Iggy's own brand of luminous enchantment didn't work the same way--such was the spectrum of glyphology. Still, this wouldn't stop them. The golem to Iggy's left went to try and grab the rock star stud, pull them in for a tight embrace--but the spellbreaker was quicker. Trained in capoeira, Iggy pivoted on their boot heel and pirouetted around the golem, keeping out from its sight.

"They got Robbie," Iggy said, joining Lily's side. "Nearly crushed my guitar too," they said, pointing to a pink case, covered in star stickers, laying up against a wall.

Lily brushed her hair back, confused. "You...brought your guitar?" Her focused was on the golem she felled, who had snapped free of her luminous threads, and was presently rising back onto his feet.

"I'm a musician, of course I did. Oh...hello, sexy."

Lily was taken aback, thinking Iggy was talking about her, when she noticed the large, muscular man (inappropriately dressed in snake-skin, hot pants and a half buttoned, purple shirt) bounding towards them like a luchador about to take a dive off the ropes.

Which was an apt comparison, as the man was, in fact, a luchador about to take a dive into the golem. El Amante Intoxico had stormed into the frey!

"He's not going to try to hurricanrana a ten-ton statue," Iggy started. "Is he? Oh, of course he is..."

"TAKE THIS, RUDO!" El Amante shouted, missing the golem's attempt at grappling him, and flipping into the air. El Amante's legs caught the golems bulbous neck. He hung there, inverted, his long hair tumbling down into his face. "Err...I thought that would work."

The non-plussed, masked man flipped down and landed gracefully, standing upright and blowing a kiss towards Lily, who, despite her professional decorum, swooned right into Iggy's arms.

"Mi amor," El Amante said, facing the two golem looming above him, "where is the excitable Canadian?"

"He got got," Iggy replied as he helped Lily back onto her feet. "These things are damn tough."

El Amante's response was to remove his his shirt, showing off his eight-pack abs and heaving pectorals.

"Tougher than...the power of seduction?" He said, bounding his pecs hypnotically.

Lily fell back into Iggy's arms. The pink-haired heel frowned. "Babe, they're made out of rocks. Also, stop doing that to Lily. She doesn't have the same immunity towards your powers that I do."

El Amante pointed to his partner ad winked. "You ain't seen nothing yet, chico." He turned to face his stoney opponents. "Now, my love....musica!"

Iggy glanced between their guitar and his himbo, hunky boyfriend. "...Viki, are you serious?"

El Amante snapped his fingers. "Musica, ahora!"

Lily shook the stars out of her eyes. "He said 'music, now'."

"I UNDERSTAND SPANISH." Gnashing their teeth, Iggy kicked open their guitar case, sending forth a plum of star dust. They slung their hot pink guitar over their chest. "Okay. You may want to avert your eyes, Lily. This is about to get...spicy."

The three golems corralled the handsome luchador, who waited for the first few strums of his lover's melody before he broke out into a slow, seductive, hip gyrating dance. The golems stopped, confused, and looked at each other. El Amante placed his hands behind his head (deliberately showing of his bi's and tri's) and swivelled his pelvis with erotic aplomb. The golems stopped in their tracks.

And then, blowing them a kiss, El Amante tore off his snake-skin pants, revealing tight, purple, silky briefs (any further description thereof would require this chapter to be moved to the After Dark section). The golem's followed his hips with their eyes, unable to tear themselves away.

And then, El Amante thrusted.

All three golem's heads split open with a burst of light, before they crumbled into massive piles of dust.

Lily and Iggy were left dumbstruck. "Are all...of your pants tear-away?" Iggy asked.

"All pants can be tear-away," El Amante said, flipping his gorgeous hair back, "if you're brave enough." He winked.

Snapping out her distraction, Lily shuffled around the pile of ash, examining it for signs of enchantment. "Most golems have a carving or seal on their head that's used to control them," she explained. "But not these. Which means there must be some object, or charm, that their controller is using." She sighed. "I should have paid better attention in my 'Intro to Alchemy' course."

As Lily continued to speculate, a shadow fell over Iggy and El Amante, who looked up just up in time to see two enormous, winged statues descend. The gargoyles extended their concrete talons and grabbed Iggy and his partner, painfully, by the shoulder.

As the took off, El Amante called back. "RUN!"

In shock, Lily nevertheless did as told, just barely managing to avoid another gargoyle as it went to strike her. In that split moment, an idea came to her--and knew she would have to commit to it. It can take me to the one controlling it.

"If these hunks can be brave," Lily said, throwing a lasso around the foot of the soaring gargoyle, and tying the other end around her waist and underarms, like a harness, "I can be brave too."

The harness of golden light jerked Lily back, and then she was flying upwards, her legs flailing beneath her as the ground fell further and further away. 

"Never mind--this was a mistaaaaaaaaaaaaake!"

---

"Aaaaand...three!"

Mr. Iron, covered in sweat and bruises, held his arms to the air in triumph. "YEAH!"

Poor Ivan, despite his best, had to be dragged out of the ring. It was knock out! The crowd went wild. As did Boomer Harlow. "Folks, this is a story nearly two decades in the making! Mr. Iron is now positioned to go up against the world champ!"

But Colt was nowhere near celebratory. Lily was nowhere to be found, nor Slayer. As the next match--between Reina Ros and Yaya Baba--set itself up, the president of the GSA slunk out from his skybox (protected by Aradia security) and travelled down to the other side of the VIP section, where Cian and Spike waited, watching the fight in uncharacteristic silence.

They looked up at their boos. "You look like you're gonna ralph," Spike said dumbly, to which Cian cuffed him in the arm. "OW! Whaddya' do that for, ya putz!"

Cian stood. "Sir?"

"Something's up," Colt said, eye on the ring, where Rosa had just gracefully dodged one of Yaya's massive chicken feet kicks, moving to wrap up the other leg with her rose thorn vines. "We need to get down there."

Cian looked toward the ring. "Respectfully, sir, this feels like a trap. I think we're...being gathered."

Spike thought back to his vision of the past. "There's a big church-like place where Semyon's probably hiding," he said. "If we find that, we can take him out." He pounded his fist inside his other hand for emphasis.

Colt tipped his hat. "Quick thinkin', son, but Cian has a point. Why throw ourselves into the spider's nest when we can lure the spider out?" He pointed to Cian. "Sorry to do this to you, sport, but I'm gonna hafta ask you to get very ugly."  

---

"You came here, willingly? Of your own accord?"

Salim tugged on his golden robe, his jackal mask tucked inside his giant hands. He stared down Semyon, or what was left of him, sitting on the throne. Recida, standing at his side, scowled at the massive spellbreaker.

"One of you looks like beef jerkey left out in the sun too long," Salim sniped. "And the other looks like they've been irradiated pretty badly by a lovely Aboriginal woman."

Recida glared, going for her snake pendant--curiously to Salim, she wore a new medallion alongside it. He hadn't seen that one before.

"Please," Salim said. "I can freeze Goddess-damn time. I could snap both your necks in less than a split-second. Instead, I am here to offer my magick." He looked up at Semyon and bowed his head. "Well played, Koschei. You knew there was no way I would pass up the tournament, or even better, a chance to kill you."

"This throne is made of material that siphons magick," Koschei carefully explained. "If you so much as come close to it, you will end up in far worse shape than even my present appearance. That said, there's nothing you can do. You presence alone provides me the power I need. Unlike the others, I don't need to situate you in one of the belfries in order to channel your glyph."

Salim shrugged. "So I thought. I just wanted to ask you what you intended to do with the Glyph of the Goddess. A simple ques--"

"Ugh!" Recida suddenly bent forward, clutching at her neck.

"You okay there, sis?" Salim asked.

She shot the giant a venomous look, but addressed Koschei. "Someone's destroyed my golems. I'm afraid I'll need to investigate." The woman tugged at her oroboros charm, tearing it from her neck and slicing her hand open without so much as blinking. A spray of blood solidified in t he air, becoming a scythe of crimson light.

"Blegh," Salim said, making a face. "Alchemy is so gross."

"Exercise caution," Koschei said, as Recida marched out of the room. "Do not underestimate these fools."

When she was gone, and the two immortals could speak at last, Salim placed his mask over his head, taking on the form of King Anubis. "Well? I know what you're doing. Why?"

Koschei glanced over at the stone basin, reconstructed and reinforced. Around it sat the Seven Divine Chalices, in a ring, all of them having their crystalline liquid poured into the pool. The basin cycled through the colors, radiating the blessings of the Goddess.

"Simply to take back what's mine by divine right alone," Koschei said. "It's so amusing, and ironic, my dear Sarapis. The night that scheming prince disfigured my sex--"

"You mean tore your d*** off? Like, it's an a jar somewhere. I've seen it." He winked. "Not bad at all. I can see why you got so much a** back in the day, you dirty old man!"

"Be...that as it may, my predilections and desires blinded me to my true calling. Removed of carnal need, I could see far more clearly as Semyon Grigorivich. This world is full of pettiness, weakness, discord. My father put lesser men to the sword for stepping out of line. But the problem, as any Tsar or ruler can tell you, is that...the will of the many outweighs even the strongest ruler. Even you, with your power, were thwarted by a select few, I am told."

"News flash, weirdo, the War began because one man--one Emperor--tried to make the world his. What makes you think you'll fare any better?"

Koschei smiled. "Because the Alban King did not have the magick I am about to make mine."

King Anubis didn't say anything for a moment. "So, you mean to tip the scales at last? Become...what, king of the world? Shape everything to your whim? God King Koschei, is that it?"

On the throne, Koschei narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"That's really it!?" the world champion said, bursting out laughing and slapping his knee. "Six arcs of content and the best you can do is pull of this...early 90's JRPG villain schtick?" 

"Even you will bow to me," the baled, scabbed Koschei said, raising their head.

"Nah! You know what this game needs, my friend? A much more interesting final boss..."  

Pressed up against a pillar just outside the audience chamber, Spike--who had heard everything--bit his lip. I really, really miss when the worst thing that could happen to me was getting a friggin' steel chair up the side of the head.

----

Recida smiled, satisfied, as she turned away from Kuma Kengo, caught in the stone giant's embrace beneath the belfry. "All in their place," she said to herself. With blood scythe in hand, she walked among the golems, who each bowed to her as she passed.

 Situated at the tallest tower, overlooking the city below, Recida had a perfect vantage point of the ring. White Tiger and Vahni Rage were about to come to blows, deciding who would go on next to face the world championship.

These little boys and their stupid games, Recida thought. Suddenly, the golems guarding the staircase leading downwards pulled back. She glared and pressed her hand to the medallion around her neck. "I didn't say you could..."

She stopped. There, coming up the staircase, was Semyon, the only other soul she'd given command over her stone sentry. Lily Suarez, Aradia's brat, struggled as he tugged her along towards the top of the tower like a father pulling along a misbehaving child.

Recida narrowed her eyes. Something was off...

The golems stepped aside. Semyon threw Lily to the ground in front of Recida. She collapsed, pathetically, with her long hair draping her face. 

"I thought I'd give you her to you as a gift," Semyon said, with a wide grin. "After everything she's done to us. It seemed fitting."

Recida looked up from Lily at the gaunt figure. "Quite right," she said, slowly. "And...I would have almost been fooled, Cian Enbarr."

She threw her scythe forward, nearly slicing into Semyon's neck. 

Fortunately, Cian was quicker. He 'threw' the illusion forward, like tearing off clothes, and stepped back, looking over his shoulder at the sheer drop below.

With a devilish, mad look in her eyes, the wily Alchemist chased him down, slicing and slashing. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MY FAMILY'S HOME!"

"Damn, she's good," Cian snarled, projecting illusory clones of himself to try and throw the woman off balance. "Gee, you burn down a lass' castle and suddenly she think has a right to cut your feckin' head off!"

"AAAAAAGGGH!" 

The crazed alchemist jumped into the air, just as Cian tripped and landed on his butt. Behind him, a golem came up the stairs, blocking his way. He was trapped. 

Just as Recida fell forward, ready to bury her scythe in Cian's chest, she found herself abruptly yanked backwards. He neck pulled back. "Whaa...what!" she snarled.

Cian looked over her shoulder. "Holy crap."

Hair still half in front of her face, Lily tugged her golden string, pulling Recida back. The Alchemist cracked her head to the side, trying to see who dared to impede her progress.

"YOU TREACHEROUS SKANK!" she roared. "I'LL CUT YOUR DAMN HEAD OFF."

Lily looked into her eyes. "Nope."

Cian watched in awe. Recida's body went sailing behind her, as Lily whipped the woman over her shoulder--almost, Cian thought, like a suplex. The woman landed with a sickening crack, somewhere behind Lily. Her scythe melted into a pool of blood. She didn't move. 

Lily acted quickly. She tugged back her thread, Recida's medallion coming with it. Safe in Lily's hands, she opened the locket open and found the piece of ancient parchment. She ripped in two.

As she did, the golem behind Cian--ready to crush him with its fist--split down the middle with a fissure of light...as did the golem sentry surrounding the belfry. In seconds, they'd crumbled into dust, leaving Lily and Cian safe.

The Faeblood Brawler wobbled onto his feet, trying to catch his threat. "Lady and Mother, Lily Suarez--you sure you don't want to try your hand at spellbreaking yerself, lass?"

Lily nearly fell onto her knees in exhaustion. "Buck would think I was so cool but...no. Never." She caught her breath, and tried to think of what to do next. Just as she opened her mouth, however, the bell behind her rang with a thunderous toll--making her and Cian jump. They looked up at the swaying bell, then at the steeple. The engraving of its glyph, same as Kengo's, glowed an eerie blue. Cian and Lily looked out over the fog-shrouded city, at the other towers. All of them, all of their bells ringing in tandem, glowed the respective color of the glyph carved into their side.

Lily was so entranced by this thunderous uproar of bells, and the shimmering towers, that she failed to notice that Recida's body was longer laying in a heap behind her. All that was left was the stain from her scythe...and her ouroboros necklace, broken in two.

---

White Tiger flipped backwards as Rage tried to hook him with a fiery jab. Landing on his feet, Joseph spun around and launched a round-house kick--not to hit Rage in the head directly--but launch a might gust of icy wind. The energy shaped itself into the head of a roaring tiger, its jaws wide open.

Rage reacted. He threw his hands out, creating a wall of fire to incinerate Tiger's attempt. "Very good," Rage sneered. "I would expect nothing less of the GSA's...huh?"

His ears had picked up a low, rumbling chime. It was most definitely not the crowd. When his flames died down, and he could see his opponent clearly again, he found the sweat-glistening White Tiger just as perplexed as him. 

The audience looked around at each other, joining in the fighter's confusion. The earth beneath their feet seemed to glow, and particles of light had appeared in the air like fireflies. The disguised Aradia soldiers--those that hadn't been dispatched by Recida's golems, anyway--placed their hands on their guns and dampeners, ready for the attack.

"Uh...folks," Boomer Harlow said from his seat ringside. "There seems to be some sort of disturbance. The ref is calling off the fight. Looks like we're gonna..."

But even spellbreaking's loudest mouth was cut off by the sharp sound of bells. Though incredibly loud, they caused no percussive pain on the audience's ears, or even the two fighters standing in the ring. 

The twenty one towers around the city lit up, fountains of light, in a spectrum of colors. All magi among the audience felt a tingling in their chests, as if their glyphs were reacting.

Then, as quick as it came on the light subsided. The bells stopped. In the twenty one towers surrounding Kitezh's central chapel, the spellbreakers and magi captured by Koschei and his accomplices suddenly came to, with a swell of magick. 

Joseph and Vahni looked to each other, silently acknowledging a truce. There were greater matters that needed their attention. As the two men moved to exit the ring on their respective sides, their eyes were drawn to the familiar face running towards the ring.

The two men said the name at the same time. "...Spike?"

The blonde man in the navy jacket politely excused himself past the bewildered ref, and stumbled into the ring. "Guys," he wheezed. "Koschei's done it. He's completed the ritual. Ryan Hartley is in one of those towers, with the symbol of my glyph. Do you...do you remember him?" He collapsed, breathlessly, at Joseph's feet.

Vahni Rage immediately stepped forward and picked Spike off the ring. "My lion, what do you mean?"

Before Spike could explain further, the audience gasped. Walking slowly towards the ring, the tall man in gold and black robes shimmered with the rainbow's spectrum, his aura all colors and hues.

"My old friends," Koschei, grinning wildly, said. His eyes were hollow white, like white fire.

Spike, Joseph, and Rage stood back and watched Firebird's president heal his skin in rapid time, hair re-growing, singed beard returning to his face, well-trimmed. His gray skin became a more lively luster, and he even appeared to de-age, in rapid time, as he stepped to the ring's edge.

"Turn your gaze upon me!" he commanded, just as loud as Boomer Harlow. The audience fell silent. They waited. Koschei heled up his hands in the air, and in the space between them, an explosion of rainbow-colored light radiated outwards.

Spike had to put his hand up. It was like the sun. But, as the light faded and the symbol in the air remained, the young spellbreaker's jaw slowly drooped. "That's..."

Almost everyone in the audience recognize the symbol, naturally. It was the shape worn around the necks of the Goddess' believers, the symbol that adorned almost every Central Church steeple throughout the world. It was the glyph of the Goddess herself: Genesis, the Glyph of Creation that only the Prophetess' Leithe, daughter of Mother Aethrin herself, had ever wielded.

And now, that self-same glyph was in the possession of Koschei, the Deathless.

"It worked," he said, laughing with glee. "The ritual worked! For centuries, I've waited. Now, the mistakes of my youth are amended. The Chalices were indeed the key! 21 glyphs of might, to unlock the gift of the Goddess Herself!"

Nobody dared move. They were all in far too much shock. Koschei extended his hand, and a tree--in miniature--sprouted from his palm, cycling through its season before wilting into dust. The tall magi pointed to the ground, and the stones beneath his feet turned to solid gold. He stepped back, and the golden bricks became goldfinches, taking flight, then breaking apart into a swarm of monarch butterflies. 

Smiling, Semyon held his hand to the air as the bullet from Slayer's rifle turned to water. Atop the tower, some distance away, Slayer sucked his teeth and pulled back, just as a bolt of crimson lightning ripped the steeple off its hinges and sent it, and the bell beneath it, towards the audience stands.

The crowd screamed. Tiger jumped forward, sending out a spiral of wind and water, and manging to cushion the bell as it fell, knocking it of course and sending it safely to the ground with a resonate thud.

This transgression was all that Aradia's disguised soldiers needed. The security force stood up in the audience, the crowd around them panicking and making for the exit.

Rage growled. "It's going to turn into a stampede," he said. He nodded to Spike. "You. Go help Colt."

"What about you?" Spike asked, suddenly terrified. He moved closer to Joseph, who placed his hand on his shoulder, assuring.

Rage shook his head. "Do not worry about me, my lion." He looked at Joseph. "Or my Tiger. Go be good little boys and play hero. Let the villain do what he does best."

Joseph's eyes softened, a flash of empathy, before they narrowed into resolute focus. "Go, Spike," he said. "Control the crowd. I'll stay and fight."

The soldiers stormed over the side of the barricade. Koschei, enraptured with his own power, was ready for them. He flicked his hand at one broad-shoulder man, whose scream was cut off by his sudden transformation into a cube of solid gelatine. Next to him, his companion became a pile of salt. The hail of gunfire converging on Koschei transformed itself into confetti. 

"I have...waited...so long," Koschei said, in rapture. He watched, with mad joy, as his arm transformed into a sharp blade, like a spear or pole, and shot out at the battalion of soldiers racing towards him, skewering them all through the chest.  

Only the sound of mocking applause, from a single source, cut through the screams of the audience. Koschei, metal hand still embedded in his would-be usurpers, turned around and glared at the tall figure in the golden mask currently applauding his efforts.

"Bravo!" King Anubis called out, standing atop the turnbuckle. Rage looked up at him in confusion. "I love your new look. You've really gone full anime now!"

Koschei sneered. "You're finished, Sarapis. I am Creation!" He tried to pull his hand back, retract the blade, and release the twitching corpses from their misery.

He found himself unable to do so.

"True, true." King Anubis shrugged. He crossed his arms over his massive chest. "But...can you control it? Life and Death are your glyphs, right? Seems like a pretty unstable combination, if you ask me. I bet all of that power is gonna' absolutely rewrite your DNA in rapid time. Oh wow, look at your hand! You should probably get that checked out, K-man!"

Koschei thought of barking back, but his attention was on his hand. The metal had fused with the array of corpses, integrating flesh and viscera into a mass. He screamed in terror and looked down at this other arm. It has split in two, becoming two distinct appendages, which in turn, sprouted--root-like--into another sent of arms. He tried to shake them away, control his glyph, but this only exacerbated the surge of energy within him.

From the stands, Spike, helping to coordinate the audience into a safe, controlled exit, looked over his shoulder. "Oh my Goddess..."

Koschei's bearded face elongated, his skull distending and becoming double size. "AhhhhgnnnGGHAAAAAAHAHHHH!!!!" Even Rage, normally unbothered, reeled back in disgust. A pile of flesh, and half-formed appendages, organs, eyeballs, spilled out from beneath Koschei's robes, and doubled in size. Tentacles of flesh arouse from the blob and threw themselves outwards, grabbing screaming Aradia guards and pulling them into its visceral mass, which absorbed bullets and lobs of fire and lightning shot out by Aradia's trained elemantalists. 

King Anubis, watching with amusement from his perch, continued to commentate--Boomer Harlow now having (wisely) fled the arena. "Oof. Typical Akira-style downfall. Nasty stuff. Real Cronenberg shit, Koschei."

It was when the Koschei blob's tentacles began plucking screaming audience members out of the crowd that White Tiger jumped forward, ignoring Rage's protest. He jumped onto the tope rope and balanced, throwing out his arms and calling forth a torrent of water and a jet-stream of arctic wind. He converged the two streams on the hideous mass, freezing it to the spot.

"GAAAHAHHHHHAAAA!" the monster gurgled, Koschei's enormous head sinking into its amoeba form, pulsating with nerves and veins.

Joseph sealed the mass with his ice, but it only seemed to prevent it from spreading outwards, anchoring it at best. "There's no way to stop it," Joseph said to Rage.

King Anubis looked down at the GSA's champion. "Pretty defeated talk from the babyface. Here, pussy cat. Let uncle 'Nuby give you a hand."

The massive spellbreaker in the golden gear snapped his finger. The tumescent mass suddenly stilled, unmoving.

"Hurry up, hot-stuff," the giant in gold said to Rage, "You've got less than a few second."

The hot-headed heel answered the call. "I have some feedback for you, boss..." Rage seethed, eyes glowing like embers. "For years, I was your cash cow. A fight dog content for his master to keep throwing up fresh meat." 

Rage charged forward, over sheets of ice and membrane. King's spell faded, releasing its temporal hold. A massive eye-ball, blood shot and hideous, erupted from the pulpy mass and glared at Rage. The monster shot a tentacle towards its aggressor. 

"In less than a day," Rage said, catching the squirming tendril in the air, "those oversexed and overpaid idiots at the GSA showed me more kindness than you ever had. I thought them weak for it."

Rage brought the tentacle down across his knee, igniting it as he did. A burst of flame severed it into two, causing the amorphous blob to writhe in torment. Rage grinned. "Then, their cutest, shortest star kicked my ass--and told me that one can be kind and strong. Well, I still think that's all bullsh**. But...I've learned to hold a small amount of respect for the men who can be both strong and kind. And real, vicious bastards like me have a place to support them....GETTING OUR HANDS BLOODY WHEN THEY WON'T."

Rage threw his burning punch forward, into the bulbous mass of living gore. It burnt away flesh, creating a hole. Rage reached into to Koschei--Joseph looking on in horror--and pulled back.

Koschei's still-beating heart pulsed in Vahni Rage's blood-soaked hand, for but a moment, before it burst into flames and became nothing but cinders.

The blob creature that was Koschei began loosing form, melting into puss, blood, and fluid. The Aradia soldiers and audience members, all miraculously still alive (and covered in gore) sprung from from the amoeba, gasping and clawing their way towards safety.

All that remained, a beautiful contrast to the melting aberration below, was the Glyph of Creation, a construct of radiance and energy, pulsing in the air above. Both Rage and Tiger watched, frozen in shock, as King Anubis stepped forward and touched the shining glyph, hesitating only slightly. It fractured into particles of light, merging into his hand.

The giant, masked spellbreaker sighed, contented. His muscular body radiated with the same shimmering aura as Koschei. Unlike his predecessor, however, he was not transformed.

Wreathed in rainbow light, King Anubis turned around and faced White Tiger and Vahni Rage. But it was Spike, standing ringside, on whom he trained his gaze.

"Oh, you boys didn't know?" The massive man, the First Spellbreaker, laughed hollowly. "I'm the final boss."

To Be Continued....