Chapter Text
None could recall when the castle had first been constructed. It was older than most of Draco’s inhabitants, perhaps older than the kingdom itself. Not a soul knew, and no records of its creation existed. The only certain thing was its ancient nature, and the strange power it exuded; for an old fortress that was so tiny and weathered, the place radiated with an odd and unassuming energy — one that all knew to be wary and respectful of.
And now, the lands preceding the ancient castle lay in ruin. The once-vibrant grass had been torn to shreds, the dirt beneath thrown all about. Holes, craters and ravines littered the earth. It was as if two beings above comprehension — two gods — had clashed there, a metaphor that was not entirely inaccurate.
You, the King of Draco’s prodigy, was at the centre of it all, knelt upon a small patch of land that stood — surrounded by over thirty metres of emptiness.
The young Quazer remained there, drawing in hoarse and shuddering breaths as his lungs burned. His body was bruised and battered, his shirt and pants shredded. He clutched his left hand, cradling it against his side tightly as the gaping hole in it dripped with blood.
He was strong, a natural. They had all told him that, and not without reason: for someone who had simply shown up one day, he had become stronger at an explosive pace. Some of the Masters had been understandably bitter at that — at how their years of hard work had been shown up by a rookie in a matter of weeks.
In less than a month, he had progressed from scrapping with weak monsters to defeating almighty opponents. The kingdom of Draco was a dangerous and peculiar place, especially as of late — finding itself ravaged by a war between the King and the Darkin. Monsters were creeping out of every shadowy crevice, and every day another being with unimaginable power appeared to wreak havoc.
In a land shaken by chaos and disorder, life had not been easy. You was aware that he was blessed. He was likely even privileged to have been born with such overwhelming talent, and he had done his best to not let his go to his head. Even so, to spend each of his days fighting to protect the kingdom — to take down the next powerful threat in a hard-fought battle — was not easy.
But he had never given up. He had stood tall, squared his shoulders and thrown himself towards his newfound purpose. He was You, Draco’s champion, and its greatest protector. In a land under siege, he would be its most devout defender — its last line of defence.
For all of his prodigal talent, it had been hard. Most battles still pushed him, and he did not come out of them unscathed. Though his power grew, and his limits inched more and more out of reach, the kingdom’s enemies seemed determined to keep up with him. Every opponent was stronger than the last, pushing him harder than ever before. Each consecutive fight had him walk away from it, banged up and covered in gruesome wounds.
Still, he had done it — every time. For every opponent that emerged to threaten Draco and its citizens, You had vanquished them. From Azurewrath to Sir Kadee himself, he had overcome all looming walls in his path, and become stronger for it.
The world was cruel, however. It had made the Masters orphans at a young age, and caused so many people so much pain. In a world such as that, a perfect, prodigal being like You — who could defeat anyone who stood against him and his friends…
…was simply too good to last.
All good things must come to an end, the old saying went, and it rang depressingly true in this case, too.
Because he, You — the prodigy, the gifted child, the King’s trump card...
…had lost.
You let out a sputtering and panicked gasp where he knelt. Every inch of his body ached and burned, and he couldn’t breathe…
He was in trouble — big time. This opponent was strong — too strong. He had to stand up, he had to weather it, to grit his teeth and fight on, or he would be—
The tip of a blade pushed against his jaw. He made a low and breathless sound as it broke skin, drawing blood, and lifted his head so he could look upon his defeater with an emotion that had never felt so pronounced before.
Fear.
Soul SazErenos was not unscathed following their fight either: though his skin was not bleeding like You’s, and neither were his clothes torn — that not being how spirits and souls worked — his body was fractured; a hundred cracks spread all over him, like the threads on a spider’s web. It was as if he was made of glass that was on the verge of shattering into a thousand tiny shards.
Saz smiled on, nevertheless, a smug triumph shining across his face as he stood over his toppled foe.
“Not bad,” he said, tilting his head at You. “Not bad at all. Few can keep up with me, and even fewer can challenge me. You’re strong. Take pride in that.”
For all the fear and panic he felt, You could not help but scowl up at Saz with venomous hatred. He did not want his respect, not after what he had done…!
“...give them back,” he rasped. “Give Arcane and Dezadon back!”
Saz laughed. “Your friends are long gone. They’re nothing more than mana now — nothing more than energy that exists inside me.”
He slid his blade across You’s jaw yet again, being slow and methodical about it — like a beast toying with its prey. You made a low, agonised sound as a new bloodied gash opened across his chin. What courage had shown across his face dissipated in favour of panic and sorrow.
Arcane… Dezadon. Were they really gone? Surely Saz was lying? Surely, if You simply hit him hard enough, the Spirit Duo would be knocked right out of him, and they would be fine and alive. You and Dezadon would crack a few jokes at each other, Arcane would perhaps spout some obscure trivia about the castle behind them, and then they would all head back to the castle…
That was how it would go, right? There was still a happy ending to this nightmare, right?
The flickering spark of hope died out as soon as it ignited, and You swallowed thickly — finding that it did nothing to ease his dry throat.
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Saz had absorbed them — turned them into power without any regard for their lives.
Not to mention, even if they could be brought back by defeating Saz, You had failed at that, too.
His shoulders sagged, and he lowered his gaze to the ground — to the puddle of his own blood.
“But don’t worry,” Saz said, his voice soft like velvet. “I’ll have you join them now.”
He pulled his blade back for the final blow. You scowled, feeling an indescribable amount of malice towards the being in front of him, but then he bowed his head — squeezing his eyes shut as they began stinging. Shame, and the bitter sensation of failure, churned in his stomach.
He had failed; he had been unable to stop him, and now he was going to die. Though he had come close to death, and had close calls more than a few times before, he had always come out of it alive and fine in the end. But this time there was no escape — no way of averting death. The Masters would never make it in time, and they could not defeat Saz even if they did.
You hung his head in shame, feeling a heavy lump in his throat as terror began to numb over his body. All this time, he had shouldered on. He had fought. He had been the hero, because everything had always turned out alright. Good had always won out in the end.
But good did not always win, a tragic fact he was being reminded of now. Sometimes evil prevailed — sometimes there were no good endings.
Sometimes a cold, hard reality was all there was. Sometimes there was nothing but death.
But before Saz could bring down his blade and end You’s life, something miraculous occurred — something no one could have ever predicted.
As You knelt there, bowing his head and forcing his eyes shut, anticipating death, a foreign sensation entered his body. It first emanated from his stomach, a strange yet warm buzzing feel, and then spread to his limbs — to the rest of his body.
Saz smiled down upon You with that unfazed and infallible smile — looking upon his worthy opponent one final time, granting him that tiny amount of respect before he sent him off into the afterlife.
Then, as You’s body began flickering rapidly, that arrogant yet earned smirk faltered. Saz’s eyes widened, and his brows climbed up his forehead.
You’s body only trembled more fiercely, but it was not the kind of trembling that one experienced while they were cold, or fearing for their life. This trembling was something else: it made You’s form twitch back and forth, until it seemed as if the defeated young man was swaying, even as he stayed completely still.
His limbs left behind afterimages, constructing secondary and tertiary layers. It was as if there were several Yous, overlapped atop one another to form one whole being.
You slowly cracked his eyes open, and he looked down upon his form in shock and awe. His entire body was vibrating back and forth now, and he could feel an overwhelming warmth burning throughout his form.
“What is this?” Saz demanded, and for the first time throughout their great battle, You could hear genuine and true confusion in his voice; for once, even his unstoppable opponent was thrown for a loop.
You did not know the answer any better than his foe, and could only gawk at what his body was doing. Then a sharp feeling of pain shot through his entire being, and he let out a sudden, pained gasp.
The vibrating was only picking up speed, and so was the heat that was engulfing You’s body. It was as if someone had set his insides aflame, and he was swiftly finding that it was not a pleasant sensation to experience. He grit his teeth, curling his hands into fists as he attempted to weather it, but it became harder and harder each second.
After staring at his defeated opponent for many more mystified seconds, Saz appeared to have enough. Pursing his lips, he made up his mind: whatever this was, he would not wait and find out.
“Enough,” he said, and he gripped his blade once more — ready to bring an end to this. You flinched backwards, fear shining over his face, even as part of him could not feel that a fatal blow might have been a mercy now; if he died, then he would at least stop feeling the burning pain that was tearing him apart from within.
But Saz was interrupted once again, this time by a phenomenon that was even stranger than the last — if such was even possible. The vibrating effect that had engulfed You’s body spread out from his flesh, latching onto the world around him. The air surrounding the Quazer started to distort and bend, releasing a sound akin to the static one would hear out of a radio.
And then came the ripples.
The first one started small: You’s left hand, a mangled mess that had a hole running through it, flickered and refracted, and suddenly it was no longer yellow and caked in blood, but black and without any injury. But the change reverted as quickly as it imposed itself, and then the mutilated limb returned back to normal.
You’s shirt was next: for a split instant, the tattered white tee turned brown and whole. A second later, his right leg became green and scaly.
It was no longer as simple as You’s body convulsing. Reality itself was twisting and changing on a whim, and You was the sole person caught up in its crossfire. In seconds, the young man that had been battered and beaten was an amalgamation — a crossing of every humanoid being that walked the earth. He was everything, and yet he was also nothing, all at once.
“...wHaT Is haPPeNiNG t0 me!?” You howled, his voice raw with agony and panic. Even his voice was no longer one and consistent — flickering between every pitch and octave imaginable. It was an unearthly and unnatural shout, something that should not have existed.
Saz could only watch on in abject horror, too stunned by what he was witnessing.
You’s ever-changing hands wrapped around his stomach as he bent over. The heat inside him spiralled out of control; it was as if the core of a star was residing in his chest. He let out a sound torn between a scream and a whimper, and then roared up at the skies — feeling like every atom and molecule in him was pulling into a different direction.
He was going to fracture. He was going to come apart. His pieces would be spread across the cosmos itself.
The pain You felt was such that when darkness claimed him and he knew no more, he welcomed the sensation like an old friend. Even death was better than that, he thought…
But, unbeknownst to him, it was not his end that he was experiencing.
It was a change.
A transformation.
And, as You’s consciousness ceased to be, Soul SazErenos watched as the distorting thing before his eyes finally stopped swirling and shifting. He watched, with eyes that were wide and bulging with the fear of the unknown, as the anomaly settled into a singular, consistent form.
You slowly raised his head, detaching his arms from where they had been clutching his sides. He planted his feet against the earth, pushing himself onto his feet.
Only, he was no longer You. He was no longer Draco’s champion. No longer the prodigy. No longer the good-willed, yet naive child.
He was something else — something more.
The numerous wounds that had stretched over every inch of his body? Gone, like they had never been there to begin with.
The white shirt and black pants which had been torn to shreds? Replaced by their dark green and blue counterparts, both entirely whole.
The bright yellow skin? Now grey like stone.
The face that always expressed emotion so freely and flexibly?
A haunting, forever unchanged smile.
He met Soul SazErenos’ eyes, and where the spirit’s were wide with shock, his were nothing but hollow — empty like the abyss itself.
1x1x1x1 had taken form.