You Already Won

Tinsurnae and Jonathan blinked at each other in stunned silence, the air between them charged not with hostility now—but with something stranger. Recognition without memory. A weight in the air that neither could quite name.

Jonathan was the first to speak, voice low and dry.

"So… I guess we're both Jujisn. Isn't that—"

"You're Jafar?!" Tinsurnae interrupted, eyes wide.

Jonathan threw up his hands. "And you're Rhan?!"

Tinsurnae narrowed his eyes. "You didn't even know who that was until now!"

Jonathan shrugged. "Okay, yeah, that's true."

Tinsurnae crossed his arms, still squinting. "Rhan didn't tell me you were here."

"Jafar didn't tell me anything," Jonathan muttered. "Except that I'm him, that this tournament is 'fun,' and that I'll either become him or die." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, but it's nice to know I won this fight twice."

Tinsurnae scoffed. "If I'd known that earlier, I'd have just kicked your ass for revenge."

They both laughed. Not forced, not entirely natural either. There was something beneath it—like the echo of a joke they'd shared in another life.

Jonathan paused, studying the man. "Do you… feel it too? Like we've done this before?"

Tinsurnae nodded slowly. "Yeah. I shouldn't remember your rhythm. But I do. Not in the head—just in the bones."

Jonathan exhaled, a mix of wonder and exhaustion. "This place is messed up."

"Agreed," Tinsurnae said.

"Huh. So that's how Jafar fights," Jonathan muttered aloud, eyes still fixed on the dissipating vision.

Tinsurnae nodded slowly beside him. "Yeah… honestly, it's my first time seeing Rhan fight too. Or, well, that Rhan. Weaker, less refined. Still a monster, but nothing like now." He turned to Jonathan, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "How did you do that?"

Jonathan blinked, snapping out of the haze. "Do what?"

"That… paradox film thing. That vision."

Jonathan scratched his head. "I thought you did it."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I've never touched anyone and been flung into a multiversal flashback before. That's not normal, right?"

Tinsurnae shook his head, brow furrowing. "I've met a few Jujisn, but I've never heard of one projecting their god's memories—especially not onto someone else."

"Wait—there's other—"

He didn't get to finish. A fireball shrieked through the air and detonated between them, searing heat and force scattering dust and debris into a roaring plume.

Both Jujisn rolled back instinctively, combat instincts flaring to life.

"What the hell?," Tinsurnae growled.

Jonathan cracked his neck, Ryun flickering across his arms. "Yeah, yeah. Of course it couldn't just be a bonding moment."

Before Jonathan could fully get his bearings—let alone get into gear—another fireball exploded near his feet, forcing him into a panicked sidestep.

Then another came.

And another.

At first, they were aimed solely at him. Then they pivoted mid-flight, one sailing toward Tinsurnae, the next back at Jonathan again. The cave rumbled with the chain of detonations, stone cracking and chunks of rock raining from above.

"What did I do?!" Jonathan shouted, barely ducking behind a jutting ledge as another blast scorched past him. "Hey! Mag—Caroline! Okay!" Boom! "Cool visuals! But seriously, what the fuck?!"

"Fuck you!" Caroline screamed, her voice raw and furious as a fourth fireball shot from her tail with even more heat behind it.

Tinsurnae stood to the side, blinking in baffled silence as he watched the chaos unfold. He glanced from the half-melted rock wall to Jonathan's frantic dodging to Caroline's fire-wreathed form, then slowly took a step back.

"This," he muttered, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder, "is so not my business."

He phased into the background like a ghost with better places to be.

Jonathan stepped out from behind the shattered stone, brushing soot from his shoulders. "Okay," he said, hands half-raised. "Can we talk now? What the hell was that?"

Caroline's eyes burned. Her foxtails flickered with residual heat, and her breath came in sharp bursts. "What's wrong?" she echoed, voice cracking. "What's wrong?! I'm tired of your selfish ass putting us in danger!"

Jonathan blinked, staggered by the fury in her voice. "How? How am I—?"

She cut him off, stepping forward. "The spear. When you used me as bait." Her words struck like punches. "When you nearly brought the entire fucking mountain down on us. Or how about just now, when you started blowing everything to hell while Sšurtinaui was still down?! I said get her! Why didn't you?!"

Jonathan's mouth opened, but no words came.

"What if a rock crushed her?" Caroline pressed, voice rising with each word. "What if one of your explosions hit her before she could move? Before she could even defend herself?"

He stood there, stunned into silence.

She pointed at him, tears rimmed behind her rage. "We fucking matter, Jonathan! But if you can't see that—if you're gonna keep acting like everyone around you's just an NPC to be sacrificed for the sake of your 'power-up moment'—then go."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The words sank into the silence like a blade.

"I refuse to die," she said, voice low now, trembling, "because you can't figure out the people around you are real."

Jonathan didn't move. Couldn't. The weight of her fury—and the truth inside it—held him in place like gravity.

She turned sharply, eyes locking onto Tinsurnae. "You."

He blinked, startled. "Yeah… me?"

"Shut up," she snapped. "And take off whatever the hell you put on her. Since you two powerhouses apparently have time to chat, maybe now's a good time to actually help."

"Yes, ma'am." He scrambled toward Sšurtinaui location.

"Don't call me ma'am," Caroline muttered as she jogged after him, her tone still hot with frustration but cracking slightly at the edges.

Jonathan remained where he was, watching them both. He let out a long sigh, the weight of everything pressing harder on his shoulders than any blow he'd taken in battle. His fists clenched at his sides, not in anger—but in guilt.

She wasn't wrong.

Jonathan stood still for a moment longer, staring at the uneven cave floor as if it might offer some wisdom. It wasn't that he wanted to be an asshole. He actually chuckled softly—bitterly—at the thought. He remembered asking Jafar in the garden: I'm not an asshole right? And now, thinking back on it… even in that vision, Jafar wasn't exactly a "good" person. Selfish. Powerful. Direct. Dangerous. And if Jonathan wasn't careful, if he kept slipping, he'd become that again.

He could leave the group. Tinsurnae didn't need them. Proving how strong he could get with his power alone —but even though he had held his own. Tinsurnae only gave up their duel due to some internal moral code. Jonathan had gone all out. Used his best moves. That was the most thrilling fight he'd had so far… and still, Tinsurnae hadn't been serious.

That stung.

The memory of victory over Rhan—Jafar's victory—had been clear, but this? This was different. It wasn't a win. It was a reality check.

He shook his head. Shocked that he immediately started thinking of himself again. Was he really this self-centered?

The evidence was stacking up. The spear feint. Collapsing mountains. Explosions while his friend was still paralyzed. And now Caroline was ready to walk away. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. This wasn't the time to shut down. Not here. Not now. This was Requiem—hesitation killed. Reflection could wait until after you weren't actively being attacked by monsters, weather, and otherworldly death scenarios.

Still… he owed them. And more than that—he wanted to fix it. Not because it was the "right" thing to do, but because deep down, some part of him still thought he was the main character in an anime. A comic. A show where everything revolved around him.

That mindset? Yeah. It had to go.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and started walking back toward the group. Time to own up. Time to make things right. Again.

As he approached, Jonathan slowed his steps.

Tinsurnae was crouched beside a clearly displeased Sšurtinaui, helping adjust her arm as she grimaced. Caroline moved around them efficiently, setting down a few stones to stabilize the slope and handing Sšurtinaui a softly glowing potion. She muttered something under her breath—probably a healing incantation or maybe just a string of creative curses aimed at Jonathan. Honestly, both were deserved.

"I'm sorry," Tinsurnae said gently, his voice a rare blend of guilt and sincerity.

Sšurtinaui raised an eyebrow. "Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?"

"Because things are different now," he replied, avoiding her gaze.

Caroline didn't miss a beat. "They definitely will be different if Mr. King of Destruction doesn't change his ways."

Jonathan cleared his throat.

"Speaking of the King of Destruction…" he said, raising a hand as he stepped into view.

Three sets of eyes turned toward him. Sšurtinaui's were unreadable. Caroline's burned with the kind of judgment that felt heavier than a meteor. Tinsurnae just raised an eyebrow, arms folded like he was watching a trial.

Jonathan forced a crooked smile and raised both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay—I get it. I messed up. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be reckless… well, not entirely. I'll do better. I want to do better." When they continued to stare he slightly bowed his head. "Sincerely. Please forgive me."

Caroline exhaled, the tension in her shoulders finally easing. "I didn't mean to throw fireballs at your head," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I was just pissed. You were so quick to say 'forget it'—like none of this mattered."

Jonathan scratched the back of his head. "To be fair, you have amazing aim. If you wanted to actually hit me, I'd be ash in a crater." He smiled, trying to soften the moment. "Besides, nothing says 'friendship' like a little combustion therapy."

Caroline rolled her eyes but cracked a smile. "Idiot."

He turned toward Sšurtinaui, who still looked more pale than usual, but alert. "I'm sorry," he said, voice quieter now. "I wasn't thinking clearly. You could've gotten seriously hurt, and I should've made sure you were safe first."

Sšurtinaui looked at him for a long moment, then gave a small nod. "I forgive you. But for the record… I was terrified watching all those rocks fall. If Caroline hadn't moved me—"

"I know," Jonathan said, guilt threading through his voice. "Thank you for hanging in."

Tinsurnae stepped forward, raising a finger. "I feel like I should throw in something here… sorry for the scare, too. But in my defense, you two were trying to beat me up."

That earned a round of laughter—Caroline shaking her head, Sšurtinaui chuckling softly, and Jonathan grinning despite himself.

Caroline squinted at them both. "Alright, so… what the hell happened back there? You two just froze for a few seconds. That's why I was caught off guard. And got pissed thinking you guys teamed up or something…"

Jonathan and Tinsurnae exchanged a look.

"We, uh… kinda saw something," Jonathan said slowly.

"A memory," Tinsurnae added. "But not ours."

Jonathan nodded. "More like… a vision. I saw it from Jafar's point of view."

"And I saw it from Rhan's," Tinsurnae confirmed.

Caroline blinked. "Wait—Jafar and who's Rhan?"

Jonathan grinned. "Yup. And I won. Twice."

Tinsurnae gave him a dry look. "That can change."

Sšurtinaui cleared her throat, clearly overwhelmed.

Caroline sighed, shaking her head. "I almost feel bad for throwing fireballs at you."

"Almost?" Jonathan raised a brow.

"Almost," she repeated, smirking.

Then Sšurtinaui sat up straighter, her voice more thoughtful. "You being of Lord Rituain makes sense. That was the first time I've had someone use proficient Sryun on me."

Jonathan tilted his head. "Sryun? What's that?"

Sšurtinaui glanced to Tinsurnae, who gave a nod to go ahead.

"It's… difficult to describe," she said. "But Sryun is like Ryun's shadow. Where Ryun flows from inner will, clarity, and intent, Sryun feeds on the darker parts—anger, fear, doubt. It's reactive. Dangerous. Harder to control, but stronger in chaos."

Tinsurnae picked up from there. "Rituains—like me—are taught both, but Sryun is… specific. It draws on the negative energy around us. Pain, confusion, grief. It feels like magic, but it's still Ryun, just… warped."

Jonathan blinked. "So it's like a cursed version of aura lightning."

Tinsurnae nodded, arms crossed. "Sure, if that's how you want to remember it. Though it's funny, really."

Caroline narrowed her eyes. "What could possibly be funny? I'm still pissed you launched a fireball at us."

He gave a sheepish smile. "To be fair, I thought you were just here to attack me. I wasn't really in the mood to make friends."

Caroline opened her mouth, ready with a snarky comeback, but Sšurtinaui beat her to it. "What's funny?"

Tinsurnae tilted his head, smirking. "That I meant to take out Jafar with that punch."

Jonathan raised a brow. "It's Jonathan."

"Right," Tinsurnae said with a nod, "Jonathan. Either way, that Sryun punch? Was supposed to drop you in one hit."

Caroline blinked. "Is that… really that strange? He's an outlander and seems to just tank stuff anyway."

Sšurtinaui answered before Tinsurnae could. "Sryun isn't just some parlor trick. It's hard to counter, and even if you can, it leaves you cracked and bleeding. Most who use it come from the top tribe of Rituain."

"Yeah," Tinsurnae said, glancing at Jonathan with new eyes. "Exactly."

Caroline looked between them. "Wait—who are you?"

She had assumed he was from Rituain, but the more he spoke, the more the hairs on the back of her neck bristled—not in fear, his aura was just…impressive. Still, against her better judgment, she didn't feel threatened. Not exactly. Not yet.

"And don't say you're just some guy," she warned. "You're from Rituain. You mentioned this Rhan person. And you and Jonathan shared a memory. Are you a… juju? A Jin?"

Tinsurnae chuckled softly. "Close enough. I'm a Jujisn, yeah. Of Rhan Xas Rituain, to be specific."

That dropped a quiet weight into the cave.

Before the silence could drag, Tinsurnae continued. "But the point is—Jonathan tanking that hit only means one thing."

Everyone looked at him.

"Rhan once told me they didn't create Sryun alone."

He locked eyes with Jonathan.

"And I think it's obvious now who their partner must've been."

Jonathan sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Great. So now we're adding co-founder of Ryun evil cousin to the 'what-the-hell-was-Jafar-doing-here' list."