On the surface of the dock well below the clouds, the man in the crimson suit raises his head to hear the distant yet punctual booms of gunfire among other explosions and eruptions. He watches a few ships fly overhead, flying over land, frowning at the sight of what appears to be an advancing invasion, though he's with truly no context as he hadn't seen the leader. Judging by his frown, he does at least understand this to be a dire matter, and so he raises both of his hands for the roofs of the nearby dock buildings. He stalls in that stance however, contemplating to himself with a furrowed brow, questioning his own actions, his crimson starry eyes apprehensive as the wind parts his long bangs. As he thinks, more of that gunfire reverberates from the red skies, for the world continues to move with him still.
Driving by the back of the remaining pack, another wasp ship is hooked by a blue cable that attaches to the hull by the door, warranting the attention of the stationed soldier who raises his rifle and opens fire on the other end. At the other end, the Hero in the azure suit strafes to the right to dodge those first shots while his right hand constructs a silver handgun whereas his left hand breathes forth that fire like a flamethrower. As the Hero pulls the handgun trigger to fire a blue energy bolt straight into the soldier's face, that extended flame takes shape and materializes into a silver cylinder about six feet long, shaped like a missile. While the Hero's handgun bursts into flames while aiming that left hand at the ship, that missile-shaped construct reveals its apt function as it begins propelling itself with a trail of blue energy out of its thruster, autonomously zooming straight into the hull where it discharges an electric explosion. As the Hero's left hand breathes a flame out too, that electric attack causes the wings to begin decelerating and for the whole craft to begin descending, entirely shut down. Only moments into its descent, that flame unleashed from the left hand materializes into another silver command module rotated to have its thruster facing the ship, and from that thruster project several rays that wrap around the ship whilst interconnecting with each other to form a net. In seconds, the ship is fully encased in the net, slowing down as it's held by the rocket, allowing the Hero to detach the cable off that ship and continue onwards to the next.
Accelerating with a propulsive boost that rockets him with a trail, he approaches another ship though from both of its doors leans a soldier, their rifles quick to target the man before unleashing rapid fire. That man begins dashing with evasive strafes while maintaining a forward momentum, even able to still focus on aiming his left hand at said ship while his right arm bends back, his hand releasing a fire that extends and constructs a silver spear. Barreling left to dodge the streams of laserfire, he then throws that spear –which uses its own second propulsion as the bottom of the pole begins exhausting a trail– as his left hand breathes that fire which manifests into a large silver sphere. Once that spear strikes the ship, another electric discharge shuts down the aircraft just as the sphere projects a blue beam towards the ship which expands into a bubble that encases and entraps the vehicle, simplifying three actions to two. Furthermore, all the gunshots fired from the two soldiers are absorbed by the inner wall of the bubble, as despite their continuous fire, they no longer pose a threat to the Hero who boosts again past that encased ship to the next whose back stinger subtly tilts upwards to face him.
Forward, the Hero aims his left hand at the next, though that's when that stinger cannon fires its shot with a thunderous boom, and instinctively the man strafes left with a dramatic boost though one necessary as that shot is a distinctly larger golden bolt, as large if not larger than his own body. His teeth clench anxiously from that surprise, but while the cannon itself tilts to track him, another shot doesn't follow immediately like the automatic rifles of the soldiers, providing a retaliatory window for him to release a fire that expands into a contraption vaguely similar to the command module, however rather than a thruster attached it instead sports a metallic disk as wide as the ship, built just about seventy feet behind it. That disk begins to hum as the ship suddenly decelerates in just a second, and beyond that it begins flying backwards, being pulled into the magnet as even the stinger cannon is forcefully tilted away from him and straightened. The Hero projects a cable onto the module to swing off of, launching himself with greater speed as he soars past that ship that collides into the magnet that then emits an electric discharge that shuts the ship down. From the side door, a soldier attempts to poke out and take aim at the Hero, only for his body to be immediately yanked backwards into the door frame, the grip on his rifle peeled off, letting it fly freely into the magnetic disk.
Onwards, the Hero propels himself directly up with a boost from the chest to evade another massive bolt straight from the next ship, so he raises both hands and fires two streams of fire that soars past it before those flames begin expanding orthogonally, swiftly connecting together to form a huge ring just wide enough for the vehicle to pass through. That ring materializes silver with the inner surface composed of dark vents, and just as the vehicle begins passing, those vents emit a blue glow as the ship is abruptly frozen in place along with the cannon.
Every next ship frozen is frozen faster than the last, for the Hero moves with greater speed as he continuously accelerates with brief evasive zips from cannonfire and swings of his cable and boosts from his back, and each next tool functions faster as he deploys a group of silver spheres that surround the next ship, those spheres emitting an equal propulsive force from all directions which forces the ship in one place. The next ship then flies into a huge silver tunnel that traps it in another magnetic hold, and the one ahead of that flies into another ring which casts its own net that wraps around the hull. The Hero constructs the next device, and by the time that device executes its function of trapping another ship, he's already constructing the next one.
Noticing the swift takedowns, groups of soldiers huddle by the open doors of the next ships and fire barrages of golden bolts at the Hero, who weaves through them with precise evasive dashes and well timed zips off his own constructs and the ships they preyed. Among that rain is a lightning bolt in the form of another stinger cannon shot that the Hero evades with a discernibly stronger leap to the left, as even a single hit could potentially atomize most of his body. Despite the multitude of enemies shooting with the cannon, the Hero doesn't pick them off individually but rather continues deploying devices capable of suspending the entire ship such as a huge silver claw built directly over the next ship attached to a short arm that houses a propulsor, allowing that claw to grab onto the ship, emit a discharge, and keep that ship in its grasp as it naturally covers the doors.
Zipping through the skies like a fighter jet, the Hero discharges each ship surgically, but not only that he makes sure to hold them in the air, keeping them from the city grounds. Another spear is thrown, though upon making contact it clamps onto the vehicle, and that clamp secretes a net that wraps around the vehicle while shutting down the wings. A long silver snake-shaped drone is created at triple the length of the wasp ships, which soars past the next aircraft and begins coiling around it, releasing its own shock and covering its doors. Another ring is constructed, attached to a long rod which propels it through the next ship, and as it passes through it emits an energy bubble that encases the vehicle.
While that Hero continues to hunt down the mobile fleet above the city, the leader remains over the sea by the port, high in the air with no ground beneath him as he's only supported by the yellow smoke expelling from his legs. His upper body is free, importantly his hands for he condenses smoke over his finger before releasing them in concentrated rays at the Champion who casually drifts to the right evasively, her body not releasing emissions like smoke though it is outlined in a pink luminescence, subtle.
She holds up both hands, and above each palm flickers a pink point light that explodes into a nebular orb. She extends her left arm forward, the orb tracking in front of her palm, lining up with her gaze that locks onto the Warlord. Immediately upon alignment, that orb is launched forward like a bullet, which the Warlord dodges with a hasty evasion, throwing himself in the air towards one of the ships further back in the fleet.
Reaching that ship, the leader lands on the roof by the back and shouts some statement over the loud buzzing. A moment later, the ship begins to start drifting forward at a slight incline, breaking its rest, but furthermore so do the other ships among the fleet as they all begin to shift, moving in a subtly ascending orbit around the Champion including the original leading vehicle. Inside each of those vehicles, soldiers step into the opening of the side doors, even for the ships where the originally stationed sentries were shot, for others would have taken their place. Furthermore, the right cannon above the windshield pivots hard to the right, lining up with the center of the orbit. Upon forming a circle around the Champion, the soldiers stationed at the doors of those many ships once more open fire at the centerpoint, once more covering the Champion in a mass of bolts within seconds, though none of them fly far enough to make a solid impact with their target. Reinforcing the relatively thin rifle fire are significantly larger bolts fired from those right cannons, a little less than half the size of the stinger rounds, potentially lethal even to the ships themselves though they've spaced themselves out in the orbit such that none of their straight lines of fire intercept each other, voiding the potential of self-afflicted damage. They don't fire with the same rapidity of the automatic rifles, albeit they're much faster than the stingers, firing additional shots with a rate around one per second, applying another layer of pressure.
Watching the omnidirectional barrage, the Warlord just stares as his leather trenchcoat waves in the wind with his hair, his yellow eyes trained sharp, waiting deliberately. From his angle he's unable to even inspect a glimpse of the Champion's body, for it's been fully obstructed by the sheer quantity of bolts collected around her, and yet he doesn't seem relaxed but if anything more on edge. But by remaining focused, he notices a minor opening expanding in that golden light sphere, and from within it launches a pink orb that curves straight towards him.
Anticipating an action, the Warlord leaps to the side to dodge that orb, letting it pass him. He glances back to watch it continue off into the distance, confirming it to no longer be a threat, and so he returns his gaze back to the golden sphere to find it still intact, that opening closing seconds later from more bolts covering that breach. Observing that sphere, the leader keeps a steady stare as rising from behind the ship he stands on is the Champion, her hand already aiming forward, an orb primed. The Warlord's eyes widen as if able to sense the presence creep on him, but midway through his spin he's struck by that orb which, upon impact, absorbs into his chest before he's flung backwards into the open air once more, straight for the center of the orbit where the gunfire's trained.
Shocked by the surprise assault, the Warlord glances back at the golden sphere that he was sure contained the Champion, only to watch all the coalesced bolts abruptly resume from their frozen state, colliding into each other at a true center inside the pink orb revealed to be in place, having been the one holding off the bolts.
That orb vanishes as the decoy's purpose has been complete, leaving the Warlord flying straight for danger, though all the riflefire and cannonfire immediately ceases before he can enter the crossfire as all the soldiers are quick to detect him and pause. They then turn towards the ship that he was previously standing on and aim their sights there as the leader emits smoke off his chest, ridding the orb inside him again. While doing so, he witnesses the resumption of the riflefire barrage now targeting the Champion above that ship he had landed on –the cannonfire still paused due to the target's proximity to their own ship–, though she focuses on the Warlord whom she chases in flight, reaching her hand out to him as another orb is formed over her palm.
At the same time, the Warlord concentrates smoke from his right hand –which he aims at the Champion– into a point, though he allows this one to grow larger, forming a golden orb of his own, feeding enough to the point of also reaching the size of a basketball. He then releases that orb like one of her own, prompting her to release hers, and the two orbs collide between the opponents, that collision resulting in an explosive boom of yellow smoke and pink gas that spreads over the sky, prompting the soldiers to pause their firing due to the obscurity of any sightlines.
Seconds pass as the soldiers wait in anticipation, and from within that cloud follow booms of a battle in the fog. Yet all the soldiers can do is wait, as it'd be far too risky to just open fire on the area blindly. So that's what they do, listening to the booms, multiple every second, their rifles kept up, the barrels aligned with their sight, ready to trigger at a moment's notice.
From that dissipating cloud abruptly emerges the Warlord, soaring towards the rim of the orbit hastily, not only his legs breathing smoke but his hands too. He grits his teeth in stress, glancing back as that cloud finally fades away to reveal the Champion standing at the center, an orb already primed and immediately then released.
The leader reactively barrel rolls to dodge that orb, choosing to continue on to the roof of one of the ships, in fact being the original leading ship as signified by its larger body. That aircraft along with all the rest stop their orbiting though they're now noticeably higher in the air than previously as their orbit was subtly ascending, meaning that the cannons at the front need to tilt down to track the Champion, but it additionally allows for the rotated stingers to also tilt to face her.
All the soldiers –who've kept their sights on the Champion– open fire once again, joined with the cannonfire of the right head gun, but now additionally with the stinger cannon too, its fire rate dramatically slower but its individual shots vastly larger. This time, the Champion doesn't remain still but begins flying chaotically to evade the fire, keeping the build-up of frozen bolts at a minimum –needing now to also account for the huge stinger bolts much larger than herself amidst the chaos–as her gaze remains trained on the leader, watching as he stands atop yet another ship, standing over its head as the soldier below him continues firing. She watches as he aims his hands at her and begins drawing smoke into concentrated points, readying his own attacks. What she doesn't notice is that all the ships behind her are rotating once again, now turning their backs on her. Upon doing so, the back ramp door of each of those turned ships opens up, the metal walls unfolding out, revealing the squads of soldiers in the crew space lined up in two rows with the front kneeling and the back standing. They all open fire above the stinger cannons still shooting, and immediately the Champion's eyes widen upon the observation of the sudden leap of intensity of the barrage as many of them reach close enough to her to need to be stopped despite her constant chaotic movements. Her eyes dart back to those rotated ships, but her focus is spun again to anticipate the rays of condensed smoke that strike her arm, joining in the barrage but far more accurately as the leader's capable of adjusting far faster than his men. No matter how randomly or quickly she moves, those rays are locked onto her, not helped by the fact she's also focused on all the gunfire and cannonfire coming from the half of the orbit reinforcing the leader's rays, not helped by the entire back half unleashing a far greater barrage on her.
In all directions she's being pressured, the carefree smirk on her face fading into an irritated frown. While continuing to dart around the space within the orbit, she raises her hands over her chest, palms facing each other, and sparks another singularity between her palms which then erupt into another orb. However, as she begins to pull her arms back, the orb begins to grow larger than its original size, nebulous strands of gas wildly dancing off the concentration as she packs more energy than before while not perfectly refining it either. She dashes for the center of the orbit before then pushing her right arm forward, launching that orb which has now grown to over double its original size, aiming at the back half of the orbit where the firepower is strongest.
Over the inland, eventually only two ships of the pressing fleet remain, both that the man in blue barrels towards, boosting himself so much that he's practically the head of a comet, one very much faster than the targets. That comet weaves above a huge stinger bolt before dipping to dodge another just a second after, and his steady starry eyes set straight on the back of the left wasp ship, his hands already blazing bright, the ink primed to be printed on the air. He raises both hands forward, concentrating on his target, but that's when his eyes widen in shock to find the back of the ship suddenly open up as from the center point the hull begins unfolding into small metallic sheets like the side doors. The right ship begins to do the same, these back apertures distinctly larger than the side opening, namely wider as they function like the rear cargo door of a plane, each revealing the entire interior crew space where two organized lines of the soldiers stand, their rifles in hand, staring back at the man.
For each ship, once the door is fully opened, the copilot at the front shouts: "GO GO GO," to which the two front soldiers break into a sprint for the open door and leap out, throwing themselves off the ship themselves and diving into free fall. Behind them follow the remainder of the line, leaping off and joining in the drop, followed by the next pair and the next. The soldiers aren't merely throwing themselves in absolute resignation though, for attached to their backs are dark gray metallic backpacks. From each backpack by the top, two rods extend out at an angle, and each rod deploys a thin translucent silky sheet held to the rod like a rail, resembling wasp wings. Upon the deployment of those wings, the soldiers begin to lift themselves, using the wings to glide like a wingsuit though keeping their arms free to hold onto their firearms. In control of their path, they all begin to glide deeper inland, both groups moving in adjacent formations to continue the mission, evading immediate defeat.
The sight of that advancement reflects in the wide, starry azure eyes of the Hero who aims both hands between the two ships before breathing flames. The flames produced from both hands coalesce bolder before splitting to form a large arch shape extending into a horseshoe. The Hero then abruptly dives, switching targets now to the gliding soldiers as that horseshoe materializes into a silver magnet, each end as wide as the open doors of the ships that are immediately pulled backwards.
As both ships are reeled into the horseshoe magnet, which then discharges them, the man arms his hands not with grand machinery but a pair of hilts, both of which upon materialization emit plasmic blue blades, timed with the projection of two cables, one from each hip.
The right cable is the first to make contact, attaching to the backpack of the backmost soldier, who hardly manages to turn his head before the plasmic blade is swung through his back, immediately rendering his body limp. As a blue flame breathes from the Hero's knuckles of the swung hand and expands to consume the soldier fully, the left cable reaches the next soldier up, reeling him forth as the right detaches and he swings again through the back, incapacitating the soldier. At the same time, that first released flame case materializes into a solid silver cocoon with a ring of blue light around the center, and that cocoon begins autonomously drifting back towards the sea to carry the body away from the battlefield, both incapacitating the enemy but simultaneously saving a life from an otherwise lethal drop, leading the next cocoon manifested over the second defeated soldier as the man breathes another flame from his closed hand.
Approaching the third soldier from directly behind, the Hero plunges both blades into his back through the wingsuit, plants his boots on the pack, and springs off it as those boots release a flame that encapsulates the soldier in another cocoon.
A few soldiers ahead discern the gruffs and shouts from behind, prompting them to turn their heads in curiosity. That's all they're able to do before the Hero zooms through them, spinning with both blades held out like a fan, slashing through those soldiers all at once; the blades themselves move gracefully like water in how they simply pass through the bodies, leaving a flurry that ruptures into fire that materializes into cocoons to drag their quelled bodies away.
While they were defeated nearly instantly, the soldiers further forth had noticed the commotion around the same time but with the benefit of a slightly larger buffer, only by a couple seconds yet it's enough for a couple of them to raise their firearms already in hand. Upon fire, rapid golden bolts rain straight for the Hero who strafes upwards to dodge both streams as each of his shoulders fire a flame that's constructed into small silver darts that are independently propelled towards the shooters, detonating right before physical impact with a release of that same plasmic blue energy that leaves them limp before being captured in another cocoon.
At this point, the gunfire has done more than enough to alert all the soldiers in the dive mission, as most of them have spun around to face the blue beast ripping through them so effortlessly, raising their rifles and firing barrages, many streams all targeted at one man. That man raises his left arm to align his hand with one of those soldiers just as the plasmic blade retracts into the hilt that melts into a fire which reshapes into the handle of a silver handgun in a style similar to a Colt to fire his own shots back, blue against gold. His shots weren't nearly as rapid as his firearm was semiautomatic, yet as he strafes wildly with propulsive dashes to weave between the streams, the majority of his shots land on target, aiming for the further soldiers. The blade remaining in his right hand deals with the enemies closer as he continues to swing and slash, zigzagging through those soldiers in his evasions with pristine coordination, capable of handling such pressure whilst simultaneously leaving protective pods for the fallen to fly them away from the fight. The hilt of that last blade melts again into another hilt, though near identical except for the lack of a guard, explained in the second of its creation for it was not the hilt of a sword but instead a much longer plasmic extension that bends in the air: a whip which he snaps once to strike three soldiers at once.
The second snap strikes another two in his approach, and midswing his handgun morphs as the end of the burning barrel stretches to form the arched rod of a crossbow, the projected blue cable string emitted to hold back three silver arrows each angled differently. As the whip's plasmic blade is retracted, the man fires all three arrows simultaneously, each one perfectly lined up to strike a different soldier, all exploding together in energy blasts that knock them back into the cocoons forming around them.
Only two soldiers are left, still gliding deeper inland to remain on course, though their immediate focuses are set straight on the man who's blown through their entire squad. Using a hip-fired cable that attaches onto one of the cocoons evacuating another fighter to evasively zip, the Hero's whip hilt morphs one more time, shrinking slightly still without a guard, as the next blade to emit is much shorter being only a knife, one he throws at one of the soldiers right into the head; the blade slips through the armored forehead before the hilt itself knocks into him, bouncing off as the soldier falls limp. Extending his flaming left hand forth, the Hero sets his target on the last soldier just as a distant explosion erupts from far behind him, one at the start of a chain of several thunderous booms that suddenly ensnare his attention as he instinctively turns his head with fearfully wide eyes.
Those starry azure eyes are initially frantic, his jaw dropped in obvious terror to the thought of a grave injury, but as his eyes set on the bright orange explosions that reflect off his blue eyes, so does the pink luminescence of the residual energy, and that's when his expression shifts from concerned shock to a different shock, one that's perplexed, stunned, appalled.
For reflecting off his starry eyes, the man watches the woman in the pink hair stand in the air below the ring of fire where much of the stationed ships were, her left arm raised in the air seemingly victoriously, pridefully, as at the center of the orange ring is that dissipating pink nebulous glow of her own power, the power that therefore would've caused such havoc.
But that simple logic seems to lock the man as though he's unable to process, or rather accept that truth. His wide-eyed expression has shifted yet again to one almost somber, recognizing the inflicted cruelty yes in what seems to be an invasion of warring groups yet cruelty imposed by someone he couldn't fathom so casually stand before what he knew was casualty, for there were no bodies in the ring.
Unable to make sense of that sight, the man just stalls with his gaze unable to move, not even as the final soldier aims the barrel of his firearm at the back of the man's exposed head, an open shot right there for the taking.
But it's the soldier's head that's struck, or rather entirely detached from the body as the neck is cleanly cut by the dark blade of a flying viking axe, that blade burning by a crimson flame that then grows to consume the entire weapon.
Hearing that cleave, the man spins around to face the sight of the beheaded soldier, and just as that axe burns up into nothing, the man in the crimson suit soars into view from below, flying with similar propulsive energy albeit crimson red. The red man freezes in place beside the limp soldier whose arms drop like the head.
First staring at the crimson man with petrified eyes, the azure man then faces the headless body which continues to glide in the same direction until he raises his hand to fire a flame that materializes an opaque cocoon, covering the corpse.
That cocoon carries the body back towards the sea, and after the two men exchange gazes with starry eyes –the blue-eyed man's expression haunted and the red-eyed man's expression guiltlessly curious – the azure hero turns around to watch that cocoon join with the rest of the flock departing from the land, the dive mission halted before a single one could reach the surface.
That said, the overall mission cannot be pronounced as concluded for above the sea, where the cocoons generally approach, is still a remaining fleet behind the dissipating fire, and from that fleet launch barrages of golden fire at the floating woman standing off against the man covered in similarly yellow smoke.
The battle's not over yet, and so after that disturbing sight, the Hero realigns his focus and launches himself with a propulsive burst straight for the thunderstorm among the red skies, leaving a blue trail behind where the crimson man stares dumbfounded.
Her arm still raised in followthrough, the Champion faces up at the remainder of the fleet, now a fraction of its former mass, as only a portion of the fleet remained outside the port and only about half of that portion is still intact. The other half is little more than the dissipating fires of the aerial explosions behind her, swept up in a single attack after seemingly having been pressuring just before.
The Champion's gaze is set on the ship at the center of the armada, the largest one, and on top of its head stands the Warlord with his arms crossed again, his leather trench coat waving in the winds as he just glares sternly. The other ships beside and behind him begin rotating again to directly face her as they also fan outwards, starting to refill the space that has been made a vacuum, once more surrounding her.
She drops her arm in observation, glancing at the different ships shifting position, moving in a slow orbit though now facing directly at her, the right gun tilting forward to line up parallel with the left gun. The stinger cannon tilts with them to aim at her, all three of the ship guns set on her yet none of them have shot. Standing without solid ground, she widens her stance to prime herself, and in the next moment the Warlord points his finger at her, leading all the ships to unload barrages of all three cannons, the two front guns alternating every half a second and the stinger firing every several seconds. Once again the Champion doesn't need to move her limbs to stop the laser projectiles from striking her as they're naturally caught in her web, outlined in pink and frozen a few feet from hitting her. She sighs to herself upon viewing the same strategy, and while artillery designed to destroy other warships freezes before her, she raises both hands, each conjuring an orb over her palm. Both orbs are refined with harsher edges and brighter cores, and while she keeps her gaze locked on where the leader stood behind the yellow wall of amassed fire now forming a solid wall in front of her, she extends her arms out to aim each at the direction of the furthest ship orbiting around her.
Ready, she commands the wall of fire in front of her to be reflected off randomly, clearing her own view to catch a glimpse of the ships in front of her, allowing an unobstructed path for both of her orbs. Before she releases them into the gunships, her eyes widen upon noticing the absence of the Warlord atop the leading ship, as he was there just a moment ago.
Her eyes widen just a little more and she instinctively spins around, dissipating both orbs to shield herself with her arms from that Warlord who just then collides into her, rocketing at her propelled by his yellow smoke, the same smoke that has been concentrated around the right arm he throws into a punch aimed at her face she protects. That punch is blocked before even reaching her body once again, frozen just a few inches away as the fist is highlighted in the pink radiance indicative that has already stopped countless lethal laser fire from decimating her.
While the punch has frozen up, blocked by that protective force, the outline around the arm begins to waver as the fist slowly begins to push deeper, secreting that yellow smoke as if torching an invisible wall.
Sharp yellow eyes of the Warlord glare at the Champion as he drives that fist closer, hatred fuming from his soul.
More cannonfire accumulates behind the Champion's back, deliberately not ceasing despite the Warlord's proximate position, which she notices with a brief dart of her pink eyes. Those wide eyes then return back to the leader, specifically his fist.
That fist drives ever so closer to the blocking arm, as if driving through a dense block of foam, slowing it down but with enough force it may be able to puncture through entirely. Less than an inch of distance stands between his solidified smoke knuckles and the Champion's blocking arm, a gap shortening with every passing second.
Pushing his punch, even if incredibly slow, the Warlord glares at the Champion's growingly uneasy eyes knowing it'd only be a matter of several more seconds before that gap is closed given the rate of his progress. His hair waves backwards as does his trench coat, the smoke around his arm like a gauntlet far brighter and refined compared to the freely flowing smoke emitting off his boots.
The shoulder of that arm he presses in is caught then by the end of a translucent blue cable, and immediately he's yanked backwards and forcefully spun around just in time to be grabbed in the chest by the Hero in the azure suit, who soars straight for the leading ship directly ahead, slamming him into the roof where he previously so confidently stood.
With his left hand holding the Warlord's chest against the roof, the Hero –his starry azure eyes glaring stern unwavering unlike his loose cape– then lifts his primed right fist as he commands urgently: "Surrender your invasion now." While his glare is locked onto the leader, the ship to his right subtly elevates, and the soldier stationed by the open side door raises his rifle to his head before pulling the trigger. The Hero only notices upon the piercing blare of the gunshot, prompting his right fist to expel a flame that expands and manifests into a circular silver shield emitting an extended blue energy barrier that absorbs the shot, all done seemingly instinctively as he only notices the attack in the next moment, his eyes blown wide and darting to the right.
His fierce yellow glare sharpening upon discerning the distraction's brief effectiveness, the Warlord shoves both hands into the Hero's chest, those hands reinforced with a layer of golden smoke, which swiftly breaks the hold as the Hero's launched backwards. In that opening, the Warlord grabs the ship's roof and pushes himself to his feet, landing himself standing up just before he's struck in the chest by a pink orb that's absorbed into his body before carrying him off his feet, backwards in the direction of the spinning propellers.
Guiding that orb is the Champion who drifts towards him, shoving him for the blades only for the leader to shroud himself in his yellow smoke, eroding the orb and providing the freedom for him to halt himself midair. He's quick to raise and aim his smoking finger at the Champion, firing a concentrated beam that's caught by the shield of the Hero who dashes towards him, his free hand raised before it blazes with azure flames that solidifies into a silver hilt that ignites a blue energy blade that he swings at the Warlord, who blocks that swing with his forearm or rather a cloud of smoke that bursts off it to form a brief shield that catches the blade. Before another strike can be attempted, the Hero is shot at from the stationed sentry soldier of the ship to his left, which has ascended to loom over the leading ship. The Hero does manage to evade the shot with a backwards boost, separating from the leader as he diverts his focus to that ship, only for his back to be exposed to the gunship to the right which has also raised higher for a clearer view of the battlefield on the roof, allowing the stationed soldier to open rapid fire on the Hero. Again he evades, using a cable zip from his hip planted to the roof to pull himself away from the first shots, his hands flaming with another tool primed for creation as he crosses his arms. In both hands he manifests a silver handgun which simultaneously then fires a single blue bolt of energy, perfectly aimed to strike the foreheads of the two stationed soldiers, causing them to collapse on their ship's floor. His starry gaze then snaps back to the leader with the sharp intent of still engaging in battle despite being fired at from above. That gaze widens in surprise to find the Champion first reaching said leader, close enough to close her extended hand and grab him as identified by the pink outline forming over his white hair and black coat. As if holding him physically although with space between her hand and his body, she drags him through the propeller, though it doesn't actually contact either of them as for a brief moment the blades are frozen by pink outlines, free to resume after the two pass, and she slams him into the roof once again with her guiding arm.
Watching the two fight behind the waving wings that obscure their figures, the Hero bends his knees in preparation to leap into action, though his attention diverts in noticing the two looming ships drifting towards the back of the aircraft, following the battle. His attention is further split upon noticing more gunships approaching from both sides of the former arc, tilting to expose the open side door where soldiers are already lining up their rifle aim at him before releasing rapid fire.
Raising both arms up, azure flames burst from the Hero's hands before morphing into silver circular shields that project their own wider curved energy barrier, forming two walls that absorb the several streams of gunfire, locking him to one place. He grits his teeth as he holds both shields in defense of himself, though his attention is spun backwards upon hearing more gunfire, however not targeted at him, but instead at the back of the ship's roof.
Against the metal roof lies the Warlord, his body still radiating a pink outline, held down by the Champion who hovers over him, her hand extended as if pressing him down. Her focus is set on him, her back facing one of the ships looming over as a soldier slips into frame from behind the open door, replacing the one who had been shot. He raises his rifle and fires down on the Champion's back, though all of the golden laser bolts fired are frozen inches from her back, none physically reaching her. Still, in the matter of seconds many accumulate, enough to begin drawing her attention behind herself before it's then raised up ahead just as she witnesses a barrage of gunshots straight for her head, all of them freezing before they could make lethal impact. She winces in irritation as energy bolts accumulate from both sides, her split focus allowing the hold on the Warlord to wane enough for him to aim his hand at her chest and fire a concentrated yellow beam, also being caught.
After glancing at the yellow beam just stopping in front of her chest, she returns her gaze to the ship looming behind her before the bolts accumulated behind her back are flung to their sender, striking the soldier with countless yellow bolts all at once, causing his body to drop. She then focuses forward to the ship ahead of her, but in that time the downed soldier is dragged away from the door and replaced by another who's quick to resume firing on her back, distracting her once again.
Holding up both shields to protect himself, the Hero's focus is locked onto the Champion as he can watch the multiple ships rain barrages down on her. He chuffs from the pressure as his hands gripping the shields ignite again.
While still being pressed by heavy fire, the Hero leaps in the air to briefly evade the barrages aimed at him, and he relinquishes both of his own shields. Freeing his hands in a moment of vulnerability, he aims both hands at the back end of the ship by the corners, and releases blue fireballs, before then lowering his hand and shooting another two fireballs at the front corners of the ship, then landing back onto the roof.
First, the two fireballs sent to the back of the ship make contact with the corners, and upon impact flames rise up before materializing into silver poles with a series of spinning rings stacked over each other, each emitting an inner blue glow. Stuck in the center of three projectile streams, the Champion takes notice of the poles with curiosity as the other two fireballs reach the front of the ship and construct their own pillars.
All the sudden, the two back poles emit a thin bubble-like blue barrier that connects together, and furthermore extends to the front of the ship, connecting with the pillars there to form a dome above the leading aircraft. As that dome encloses over the roof, the barrages of gunfire from the looming ships are caught well before reaching the Champion's own barrier, allowing her to return her focus primely to the Warlord on the ground, who has begun pushing himself back up while firing a second concentrated beam from his other hand to double down against her.
Also shielded from the persistent yet futile gunfire, the Hero in the azure suit briefly observes the effectiveness of the dome before turning to face the spinning wings, realizing due to the dome's limited size, they entirely obstruct any safe path to the other side of the roof, as getting around them would require leaving the bubble. That is at least trying to maneuver around or above the wings, though there's one other direction, thus the Hero raises both flaming hands which manifest a long sledgehammer with a silver head engraved with illuminated blue streaks, and he slams it into the roof with an impact that instantly vaporizes a circular hole into the metal surface.
Dropping through that hole, the Hero projects cables from his hips to zip out of the cockpit, notably larger than the other he infiltrated, as there's four pilots it seems. They all swivel their heads in terror, watching the Hero dash out the cockpit and through the cabin where he's met by several stationed soldiers by open doors, who turn to aim at him before being met by either a short blue plasmic energy blade of a knife in the right hand, or the shot of a silver pistol in the left hand. The Hero sprints through the ship, slashing and shooting through the many shouting soldiers who stand from their resting benches, grabbing their rifles from the walls though most are unable to even get near taking aim before being struck. Despite being heavily outnumbered, the sheer speed of the Hero's movements and strikes raze through the squad, using the handgun to clear further soldiers while his knife cleans any he's left directly ahead. The knife disperses in an open flame that is then replaced by a small handheld object resembling a frag grenade which he tosses to the remaining back of the ship's cabin. That grenade combusts midair with a plasmic blue energy that knocks the rest of the soldiers to the ground or walls, leaving just the man whose handgun has also dispersed, and in its place he coats his entire forearm with a flame that constructs a silver gauntlet with black paneled knuckles. He then springs off the ground and dashes directly into the ceiling, punching the ceiling with that gauntlet which blows a hole straight through, allowing him to remerge above the ship directly behind the Warlord who he's able to latch onto with a wire from his hand before reeling himself in and knocking into him with his crystal-plated shoulder, knocking the Warlord off his feet, breaking the two concentrated beams.
Thrown off balance, the Warlord's shoulder hits the roof and he rolls backwards, albeit he's quick to try standing back up. As he begins to lift his right hand, his wrist is struck by a blue fire that hardens and materializes into a cuff attached to the roof, made with a frosty crystal core under a silver rim that emits a plasmic blue field, forming multiple layers of barriers that locks the Warlord's arm from raising, keeping him marooned to the ground. He instinctively attempts to yank it with his other hand, but that hand is caught by another fire which manifests a silver mitten, one that prevents him the flexibility of articulating his hand as all he can do is collide it into the cuff with no discernible damage made.
He grunts before turning to face the Hero who's restrained him, standing over him beside the Champion, his cape waving in the high winds same as his hair, his starry azure gaze glaring down at him as the ships above still fail to breach the bubble dome.
Next to him, the Champion smoothly levitates towards the Warlord as she raises her right hand, in front of which ignites a pink light that grows into an orb whose edge refines, sharpening. The Hero just watches as she aims that hand at the Warlord who continues to struggle to free himself, and she confidently asserts, "It's over now, and I mean it this time."
Her radiating pink eyes glaring at the Warlord with no remorse to be read, she continuously sharpens the orb targeted at the Warlord's head as she taunts, "I'd say this has been fun, but it got old centuries ago," to which the Hero shows slight concern upon realizing the finality of her monologue, and the permanent intent behind it, though he remains where he stands, choosing not to intervene.
Between the Champion and the Warlord is that flaring bright pink orb, hovering just in front of her open palm, and as the Hero in the azure suit watches from beside her, the Champion stares down with a steadied, controlled expression that's on the cusp of relief if not satisfaction at the acquisition of success, though one that muddies her eyes with a subtle somberness. That mix of feelings is carried in her voice as she bids, "Goodbye Ekitai," and in that moment, the Hero's azure eyes widen in utter shock.
In the very next moment, that sharpened orb is released from the Champion's hand, and fired straight for the Warlord, seemingly striking him at the same time as the blue streak of the Hero's dash.
That satisfied relief on the Champion's calm face warps as it registers that the Warlord is no longer within her sight, and below where he once was is only the drifting azure flames of where once were the restraints holding him down.
Lifting her head, she also observes the blue streak of residual energy that begins beside her and stretches far forward, the man who had helped her no longer present either. But by peering out to the other end of that streak that gradually begins dissipating, she manages to note the two figures at its head, soaring further away back deeper into the sea.
Also making those observations are the ships that were originally targeting her, as they instead begin to drive back to the sea, pursuing the two distant figures. In fact, all of the ships composing the remaining fleet join in the chase, including the one directly below her as the roof slides under her feet. She subtly glances down upon recognition of its movement, though while she makes many of these discernations, her expression is stunned blank, as though the abruptness of the save flipping sides has thrown her so far off that she's not able to commit back into the fight. She doesn't even move as the wings of the leading ship nearly contact her, though they're briefly frozen at her sides, passing through without harm. She doesn't flinch or even really react to the passing wings, just watching the fleet mobilize away from inland, away from her.
Following that fleet from behind is an object far faster, a crimson comet that zooms right past her, its tail similar to the blue streak. The passing of the comet does slightly startle Kokei, though she remains hovering in place, no longer above a surface as that surface has long passed her, as did the whole fight.
Instead, she just stands blankly in the air, the bafflement leaving her unable to act, only able to watch bewildered.
At the head of that retreat to the sea is the man in the azure suit, his body expelling that blue energy as the tail of his own comet, allowing him to soar high in the air at jet speeds. In both hands he tightly grips the chest of the Warlord, their coats and capes dancing in the wind as do their similarly wavy hair. The Warlord bears a befuddled expression, likely preferring the rescue yet baffled at the reasoning.
His yellow eyes stare into the azure eyes of the man who too has a shocked expression, though one emboldened with an intense uncertainty.
Carrying the warring leader of the invasion in his hands, the Hero stares at his face, the face that seems to be in his healthy middle ages with a full head of white hair, dressed in the heavy mongolian-like black and gold armor under the leather coat. And yet in his hands, he imagines that man he's holding to be of a seemingly drastically greater age, sunken cheekbones and a wrinkled forehead entirely bald. That imagined man has the same yellow eyes yet sunken, weary, and furthermore he's not dressed in tactical armor but a simple black jumpsuit stained with a purple liquid under a brown fabric overcoat.
That figure's only conjured from his imagination, for the true leader's hair continues to wave violently in the current he's being pulled through. He just stares at the starry eyes of the one who had just beaten his invasion and him, but has also become perhaps the sole savior that's protected him from certain death.
Those starry eyes have shifted expression as has the Hero's whole face, that mystification not lost but mounted atop is a confused sense of betrayal. It's as if he feels wronged without understanding how, leading to a mess of emotions that jumbles together to leave his mind jumbled too. Through that hectic mixture, he manages to string together a coherent albeit redundant question, "...Ekitai? Is this…you?"
That question just leaves the Warlord even further puzzled, not exactly by the complexity of the question as it was perhaps one of the simplest that could be asked, for it was that simplicity that perplexed him so. A question so trivial and yet treated with such a deep sense of betrayal, not caused by him exactly but by a greater external force, the circumstances he's found himself in. His raised, sharp yellow eyes just stare at the Hero albeit silently, before his eyes then briefly jump past the Hero's golden shoulder. It then returns to the man awaiting the answer, and so he provides one: his tightened right fist which secretes a golden mist that concentrates around to form an armored layer like a glove that he uppercuts into his abdomen, abruptly knocking him backwards and ripping off his grip.
The Hero's thrusted tens of feet backwards before catching himself with a negating air braking burst of propulsive energy, suspending him in a still hover. Heightened shock mixed with panic from the strike covers his face, only worsening upon hearing a thunderous boom behind him, and immediately in the next moment his back is lit yellow. He spins around just to come face to face with the approaching colossal bolt the size of himself, fired from the lower cannon of one of the ships of the pursuing fleet.
That bolt zips in the air like lightning, yet reaching him first is the crimson comet underneath, and at the head is the man in the crimson suit who grabs the Hero as his back bursts a red flame that spreads behind him before materializing into a hemispherical barrier majorly composed of the dark red obsidian-like material. That barrier is what the ship's cannonfire strikes, completely absorbing the shot without noticeable damage.
Still being clung to, the man with azure eyes turns his head to watch that fleet pass him, the leading ship –not to be confused with the substantially larger original leader aircraft that's now further back in the fleet– soaring nearly straight for the leader named Ekitai.
Dangerously close, the ship passes right beside the leader, close enough that a soldier is able to lean from out of the open side door and reach for Ekitai in passing, who reaches back. They lock arms, and the soldier yanks the leader into the ship, vanishing from the open skies as it continues on towards the endless sea's horizon. Following behind are the many other ships composing the surviving fleet, followed last by the much larger ship the Warlord had originally rode on at the dawn of the invasion, all being watched through those starry azure eyes.
Compelled forward, the Hero begins drifting slowly towards the already-distant fleet, though he's held back by the grip of the other man still in follow through of protecting him. Without turning around, the man in blue pries off those hands from his suit, freeing himself to which the man in red nearly falls forward, though suspends himself with a brake. He glides forward in a standing hover a few feet, though he comes to a stop once that fleet dwarfs into a miniscule dot that then vanishes within the clouds, far gone. He frowns at that sight with a sentimental albeit still bewildered expression, muttering to himself, "I…didn't hear that wrong…right? No…and it's too much a coincidence for it to be someone else…especially with Kokei knowing him. But Kokei…she is Kokei…she looks like her, she speaks her voice, but…I can't see the person she is aligning with who I just met, she would never so nonchalantly-…."
He again drifts forward as the man behind him turns around to the hemispherical obsidian shield that abruptly erupts in a crimson fire that then dissipates, erasing the barrier as the man ahead continues to contemplate, "But I can…see some of her. But him…that's not him. That's not his face…that's not his voice…he shouldn't be an Exhuman…that's nothing like his person. He'd have hated even participating in a group like that, let alone…."
Losing himself in his thoughts, the man places his hands on the sides of his head as if trying to remind himself of his own memories now being juxtaposed by a jarring present, wondering to himself: "It's them but…it's…is it? But…no…;" at the same time, the man behind him glances back again towards the direction of the land nearly invaded before then speaking in an uncertain curiosity, "Are we…pursuing them?"
That attempt at centering the man in blue's focus does technically succeed as his azure eyes dial in sharp, and his arms drop to his side. He spins around to face the man in red, who turns back to him upon being asked in a rather stern tone, "We? Who's we? Since when was there a we?"
Taken aback by the sudden aggression, the man in red slightly drifts backwards though that space is forced constrained as the man in blue approaches him, shaking his tightened hand as he interrogates, "I don't know where I am and what's transpiring, I may not understand exactly the behaviors of Kokei and Ekitai, but I am certain I know yours. You think I would wish to chase him with you, the way you did to him? And her?"
He then raises his finger to point down at the man while rejecting in a raising intensity, "You think I would wish to help you put him down just as you tried? Just as you did to The Shield: my team, my friends, my family?! You think with the turbulence of the last day, I'd suddenly forget my whole life, the one you've tortured? Do you see me as that simple of prey to weaponize this moment of perplexity to get beneath my skin?"
Raising both of his hands defensively, the man in red continues gliding backwards in retreat, explaining in a tone attempting to reassure and calm: "Wait brother that's not what, I'm just as lost as you are, I don't know-."
"I know, I know that you butchered my parents, then you butchered my second parents, then you butchered my friends and Erica, my team, and then you tried with my second team," the man in blue fires back enraged with another criminalizing point, following onwards with his verbal assault: "I know what you are Exitium, you're not my brother, you're a monster. A seasonal virus that ruins everything I manage to build between your invasions, those ten years did not magically make me forget and I know they did not to you, I know you haven't changed. You will never change, you've long since shattered any hope in that. No matter how you try repositioning yourself, you are still and will forever be my enemy, in fact;" that pointing hand ignites a blue blaze, and the hand opens to grab ahold of the hilt of a sword, not one with a plasmic blade but one physical, constructed from sharpened frosty crystal. Upon complete materialization, the blade shimmers from within as it radiates its own luminescent essence, and the man points it at the man in red before declaring, "I may not understand your precise scheme but I know full well how you intend to end it. So I'll save both of us the time and forward us there."
Staring down that crystallic blade with those starry crimson eyes, the man in red is initially appalled and anxious by the abrupt act of aggression, followed then by an instinctual reflective agitation as his eyes sharpen into a glare, both of his hands igniting with crimson flames. Rage begins to boil in those eyes as the fires from his hands thrash more wildly, yet they then begin to settle in a conflicted waver as a somber revelation silently dawns on him. His hands continue to burn as he hovers backwards, his long hair waving in the winds like his cape, similar to his brother's, their suits a mirror in contrasting tones.
Again his eyes sharpen into an angered glare, his resolve steeling, priming the man in blue as he shifts his airborne stance in defense, his blade diagonal in front of his chest, ready to react to the first strike. That strike however comes in spiteful words: "And I know you too, you'll keep deluding yourself even after the worlds' end. I was stupid to think this would be…never mind, you wouldn't be able to listen, you only will to those toys of yours. It doesn't matter who they are, just what they are, and you'll think them as equal and you'll break them. Our one difference is: I know why they keep breaking. If you do, you're much worse than me."
He then kicks off the air and immediately dashes towards the man in blue, prompting him to strafe to the left evasively, spinning around with the blade still in hand to parry. Yet he watches the dash continue on past him without end, the red comet blazing down deeper to the sea, away from him. Just like the fleet, the comet shrinks down from his perspective until becoming a miniscule dot that is hidden behind the red clouds, in a way camouflaging him given the similar shades in the sky.
Breathing heavily as he's still primed for battle, the man awkwardly remains on guard, though after a few seconds of holding his pose he then loosens up, his rageful glare transforming to a somber frown. He just stands alone amongst the red clouds, dropping his arms to his side including his guard, and he just stares blankly at the distant clouds where those dots leave not even a visible spec. The crystal blade of the sword in his hands burst into flames that spread to the hilt, burning up the weapon into cinders that spread away around him.
He turns his head back, glancing towards the direction of land, before turning back towards the sea, conflicted between his options. With a heavy sigh he comes to a decision, spinning around and launching himself towards the land in a comet of his own, a thunderous boom left that echoes over the open skies.
Soaring through the dark clouds fogging the hellish red skies, the roaring winds play nearly as loud as the sizzling fire of the propulsive energy rocketing the man forth. The gaseous strands blow into his sharpened starry azure gaze, his wavy black hair dancing similar to his cape, a flag against a heavy wind.
Smoking off the azure fabric of his compressed suit lit by the radiating lines traced from the obelisk pencil insignia on his chest, that propulsive energy emits in the form of a blue gas luminescent like plasma. That gas trails behind him, past his cape, lingering long enough to leave behind a tail that traces his path. As if his entire body is burning in a flame whose smoke is that tail, his extended shadow in the sky lingers behind him as he races onwards, barreling through the clouds.
That steadfast soar is abruptly decelerated as he swings his legs forward, flipping himself upright as his body propels himself backwards to counteract his own speed, bringing himself to a swift stop which causes his cape to nearly slam against his back yet it's held away by a seemingly magnetic repulsion. His hair does fly forward at first before continuing to wave in the high altitudinal winds, as does his cape after adjusting itself, the only movement from his body otherwise still in air, standing below the clouds yet well above the red sea. That sea doesn't stretch far though, as a defined shoreline stretches ahead, and beyond that is the city past the ports. Despite having been a battlefield just moments ago, it's now suddenly so quiet, serene as the waters whose waves cannot be discerned from this distance. There's no visible damages, no smokes or fires, for the city had remained untouched, grazed but ultimately spared.
Regardless of that calming landscape, the man's expression shows anxiety with a tense clenching of the teeth, his head shaking as his eyes dart frantically below him. His wide eyes scan with the rocking of his head as he inquires, "Is this not where I was? It was, wasn't it Orial?"
He spins around to face the general direction of the sea, continuing to hastily survey the blank environment as he grunts to himself, "Damn, how long did I separate myself for..? Why did I strand myself as if I had any form of compass…?"
He reaches for the hood resting on his shoulders, clutching as he requests, "Could you seek any nearby networks, try establishing any connection, acquire some information on where we even are?"
He begins raising the hood with the intent to throw it over his head, turning around to face towards the city once more as he volunteers albeit shakingly, "I'll try searching too any way I can, but I fail to even recognize this Earth, I don't understand the supersun, I don't know who-," before completing the spin to which his sight of the port is obstructed by the upside down head of the pink-eyed woman just a foot away, prompting him to defensively dash backwards with a shocked yelp, dropping his igniting hand from his hood primed.
That startle reflexively lights a smirk on Kokei's face, whose long pink hair is hanging down past her head. Her entire body is hanging upside down, though not suspended by anything physically as it seems she's simply standing flipped, grounded on an invisible ceiling. Her body's gently illuminated with a pink radiant outline, applying this inverted orientation to herself. She giggles at the shock of the man whose hand extinguishes upon recognizing the surprise as she apologizes, "Sorry I was going to poke you but you were busy talking to yourself so I got curious. I keep running into people who monologue to themselves when they think they're alone, huh."
Swift to calm himself though visibly embarrassed by such an overreactive response, the man begins to correct, "No I wasn't talking to…," but silences himself contemplatively, lowering his head with a sigh before instead choosing to gloomily simplify, "Never mind…maybe."
Staring back at his starry azure eyes with her vibrant pink eyes whose irises cast a gradient like a calm sunset, Kokei huffs before sharpening a judgemental glare to then lecture, "And I see you came back by yourself, no warlord in hand, I don't know what got my hopes up. Stole my kill just to fumble, this is why I wanted to take him myself."
That lecture casts a frown onto the man, who further averts his gaze with a head tilt before somberly apologizing, "I know but I just-."
"It's fine, what's done is done, it's been dragging for so long I hardly feel it," Kokei assures with a sigh, leaning left to peer past the man's shoulder while pondering, "He'll probably be back in like a week, I mean he did take a pretty bad hit so that's some points. But I'm sure now he'll be even more anxious and will probably bring double the fleet, now that he'll be expecting double the resistance ...."
Kokei raises her head, though that lowers her gaze towards the sea below, sighing even heavier, taking the loss to such a ferocious battle as an inconvenience. Compounding said inconvenience, she realizes exhaustedly, "And she's going to want answers, and if I just tell her two men fell out of the sky and got in my way she's not going to trust me and I know it was already a lot to convince her not to send her own defense and she's going to go on about…it's already playing out in my head."
She sighs again and places her hands on her forehead before pulling back, pushing her hair beside her face. She then abruptly targets a stare onto the man, warranting a struck blink and the opening of a mouth to question, but her words release first: "You, I don't know if you're a fan who got too bold or you had some accident and decided to third party for whatever reason, actually no there's no explanation I can think of that doesn't just boil down to you being weird. But whatever, you're coming with me, if you know my name I'm sure you know you don't really have a choice. Where's the other guy? Or were you talking to him just now? Did I interrupt you?"
Hit by the flurry of questions while still lingering in thought over the lecture, the man raises his head perplexed with a high eyebrow and answers back in a shaken voice, "Huh, fan-? I don't- what- who's 'her'- I mean, sure I'll follow you, I was searching for you anyways."
"Heh, weirdo," Kokei snides with a smirk, finding amusement in the man's frantic response.
"Huh-," the man's sent further into confusion, but he shakes his head before clarifying, "Regardless, no I wasn't speaking with the other man, I'm not with him."
Now the one to be befuddled, Kokei tilts her head to the side and recalls, "But I swear you two dropped together and I thought I saw him chase after you, I guess he wasn't doing as much," then whispering: "maybe for the better," before resuming in proper volume, "But it looked like you two were together."
"We're not," the man repeats again, though now his voice stern, a cold snap.
That tone transmits an abruptly serious atmosphere that even slightly shakes Kokei as her neck straightens with a flash of guilt.
Noticing the edge in his voice, the man sighs before more softly elaborating, "He's not with me, he's an enemy of mine. The best case is that we don't see him again;" he then turns his head to face down the limitless sea with a glare, as if confirming to himself the absence of the man he told off.
That grim atmosphere being very much pronounced, Kokei huffs to lighten her own mood before waving her hand and similarly accepting, "Okay okay, I get it. He didn't really get involved all that much anyways so it doesn't matter, I guess you'll do. I see you can fly on your own so I figure I don't have to carry you, right?"
Turning back to face Kokei, the man's vigilant glare subsides for a puzzled stare, tilting his head before confirming in a daze, "I…yes…I can move myself."
He shakes his head to center his mind before then being the one to ask albeit in an ashamed tone, knowing the oddity of this question: "Also… which Earth are we on exactly? It bears resemblance to Earth 13 but the sky had more of an orange ashy hue, I'm not sure how this atmosphere casts the sun in a red appearance."
Her eyebrow raising, or rather lowering relative to the ground, Kokei tilts her head in dumbfounded expression to the question that, by her reaction, seems very simple. Her answer is indicative of that too in its tone: "We're on Earth Foji…where did you get a number from? Also yeah the sun looks red, it is red, did you get trafficked with a blindfold or something? Is this your first time in the Flagro System?"
That answer only serves to further bewilder the man, only finding more questions which he follows up with: "Huh, the Flagro System? Wait, what part of the Superverse are we in? Are we somewhere in The Rim again? That would explain why their pods are heavily outdated…their dashboards use analog controllers and the engine efficiency is centuries old. But even for pirates it seems outdated…I don't know any modern military who'd be deploying obsolete vehicles like those anywhere past 2600."
Every question asked only further confuses the respondent, evident in Kokei only more baffled. She opens her mouth to ask the question popped up from his, but shuts her mouth for further thought to herself, then releasing a gentle amused sigh.
She shakes her head before finally flipping herself upright, letting her hair realign with the same vector of gravity as his. Hovering beside the man, she begins to drift backwards and turns towards the city as she commands, "I don't know what drugs they had you under for that transport, but it must've been something really special. The shooting stopped a while ago so she's going to be waiting for us, let's get going, maybe it'll give you the breather to remember who you are."
She then freezes for a moment, and turns back to face the man to whom she then casually asks, "Oh speaking of, what's your name? It'd probably be a bad look if I just brought some no-named guy there."
His cape waving in the gentle breeze along with his hair, the man straightens his neck as he keeps his starry azure gaze back on her. His expression calms after the bizarre comments, and in a voice similarly adjusted, he answers: "Meditat, my name's Meditat."
Staring back, Kokei's eyes sharpen, seemingly doubtfully, leaving an awkward silence filled only by the wind. Her focus reels back out to a casual smile before she lets out a giggle, shaking her head as she comments, "I want to say that's not a name, but a name that weird does perfectly fits you too."
She then extends her open hand forward in a gesture for a hand shake before greeting playfully, "Sure thing: Hello Meditat, my name's Kokei as you know, it's nice to meet you. I have no idea what the thirteenth Earth is supposed to be or where this "Rim" is or at all what a Superverse is. I don't know what date your kidnappers convinced you it is, but this is the beautiful morning of the second of January, 2468; welcome to Earth Foji, of the Flagro System, of the Ultiverse."
Taken aback by the suddenly formal greeting, Meditat just stalls in place for a second in front of Kokei, leaving her with her open hand inviting him. She keeps the hand held for those few awkward seconds, providing Meditat the time to compose himself and extend his own hand to meet hers, but before it does she then suddenly dashes backwards, the outline around her intensifying so much she nearly is consumed in a pink light.
Like a pink comet, she soars straight for the city, leaving Meditat behind with his hand still raised, now much further from hers. He just stares in place, standing in the air, dumbfounded.
That expression carries in the tone of his voice as he just asks himself, "The…Ultiverse?"
That bewilderment then washes over with a sigh, shaking his head at his own naivety. He drops his hand to the side before bending his knees, and his entire fabric suit flares up at an instant before he's catapulted forth.
From standing still to rocket speed, the blue comet chases after the pink, the two moving in a gentle arc over the city by the sea, furthering inland. They fly the open skies, one that just minutes ago was flooded by an invasion that the man was just thrusted into beyond his own understanding, but one that nonetheless was brought to a swift end with the city untouched. The leader still remains in the open, a fault of the man who intervened, for he heard a name he couldn't ignore.
To her, he was a man who fell from the sky with not a clue of where he was.
To him, she was a woman with a face and name he knew, but so vastly different beyond.
There can only be one dreamer within the dream, as all other people are merely constructs, figments of that fantasy, whether wholly original or constructed from memories of reality, even if warped to fit this divergent history. But the dream cannot predate the dreamer's entrance for it existed not until they do within it. Can the dream exist before the dreamer? If so, when does the reality end and when does the dream exist? Or if the dream was the reality to begin with, when does the dream end, and when does reality begin?