You Already Won

Crushing the skulls of the forest beasts wasn't difficult.

So—a summoner, huh?

A flash of black and red lightning cracked through the air as he dodged a fireball.

Flame user. Focused, sharp. Too clean to be native—

Outlander. Probably one of those with video game mechanics. Not bad.

Then an arrow sliced past his face.

Mere inches.

A grin split across where the blow should've landed.

That damn elf.

The flame caster twirled their hands, conjuring twin fireballs that hissed through the air—

He ducked low. The first scorched a tree behind him, the second exploded beside his shoulder, but he was already moving.

The caster snapped their wrist—

A fire whip cracked forward.

He bent back, letting it slice above his chest, the heat kissing his skin.

A roar answered from behind—

The summoner had unleashed another beast. Some hunched, tusked thing with bark-like armor.

He sidestepped the charge and caught the creature's snout with his palm—

Lightning surged. Red and black.

The beast convulsed, then dropped.

The caster came again, more whips now, spiraling flames lashing out in a storm.

He weaved between them like water, every movement too fluid, too fast. His bare feet carved trenches in the earth as he spun, dropped, slid—

And then surged forward.

In a blink, he was inside the caster's range.

Too close.

Too late.

He rammed his hand forward—

Fingers plunged through forehead.

Flame died on their lips. Their eyes went wide—then empty.

He let the body drop.

The summoner screamed.

The elf yelled his name.

He didn't care.

He brought his hand to his mouth and bit into his finger.

Blood welled up—

Thick. Dark. Hungry.

He snapped his arm skyward and flung it.

The blood arced—

Then bloomed.

It expanded into a grotesque sphere, pulsing like a diseased heart—then exploded.

A thousand corroding needles burst from the air.

They whistled as they fell, razoring down on beasts, trees, and flesh.

And he stood beneath it all, face shadowed,

grinning.

The elf made a Ryun shield and drew her bow. The air bent.

An arrow, long as a lance, shrieked through the trees. He leaned sideways—a blur of tattered shorts, bare feet gliding over broken earth. It missed by a breath. Before it hit the ground, she was already summoning a new one.

A spear formed in her other hand Ryun.

She hurled it.

It cracked the dirt like thunder, carving a trench fifty feet long.

He was gone before it landed, dodging with an eerie grace, never flinching, never blinking—just flowing like liquid. Even barefoot, his footfalls left imprints in the earth.

The summoner snarled behind him—

And fused.

The beast folded over them like armor—bones cracking, fur turning to plated muscle. The creature hybrid slammed both fists into the earth.

A crater bloomed outward.

Trees were flattened.

Stone turned to dust.

Birds in the sky evaporated from the pressure alone.

But he just skipped back two paces. Unbothered. A silhouette amidst the hell.

Then—he bit his tongue.

Ryun and blood merged on his breath.

A red glow surged in his throat. Swirled. Condensed. Hungered.

He opened his mouth—

And fired.

The missile screamed through the air.

Faster than light.

Faster than thought.

The fused summoner barely turned.

Impact.

A red star bloomed.

And then they were gone.

Nothing remained but a scorched hole, too deep to see the bottom. Blood steam still hissed from the rim.

The elf turned. Panic in her chest.

She ran.

She didn't make it far.

He was already behind her.

One step. One breath.

His foot slammed into her ribs.

She exploded sideways.

Cracked trees. Smashed boulders. A cliff wall cracked as she tore through it—

Eighty yards of devastation.

She gasped, chest caved in, but slammed her palm to the dirt.

Ryun surged from her veins, flooding her body, stitching bone and flesh.

She stood—barely. Blood still dripping down her chin. He was already walking toward her.

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His smile returned.

Lightning danced off his shoulders.

She gritted her teeth, gathered her will, and pulled one final arrow.

It wasn't just Ryun now—it was fury.

The arrow glowed.

Grew.

Swelled with dense, radiant purple.

The very tip twisted, singing in the air like a living curse.

He smiled wider.

Lightning coiled off him like snakes of war.

She screamed—

"DIE!"

The arrow pulsed—

"DIE, JAFAR!"

She let it fly.

Everything went white.

For her.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jonathan! Jonathan!"

He blinked.

Wait…

Wasn't he just… killing them? Or Jafar was?

Shit. His head ached.

That wasn't him. That was a memory.

Jafar's memory.

But also…

Coincidence? That party setup felt real damn familiar.

"Jonathan?!"

He squinted. Too much.

Everything was… too much.

His vision burned—every color peeled back into some kind of metaphysical spectrum. Shapes bent. He could see sounds. Smell light.

"Can you shut the fuck up?" he muttered, shielding his face with a shaky palm. "I hear you, I'm trying to get my damn vision back."

A pause.

Then:

"Whew," someone sighed. "At least he's still him."

His fingers curled in the dirt.

Whose voice was that?

That wasn't Caroline. That wasn't Sšurtinaui. That wasn't—

Shit. Was he really still in a vision?

"Hey, what's the last thing we did?" He asked cautiously.

"As a group or—"

"I'm really not in the mood, Caroline—"

"That was a real question!" she snapped.

"Guys…" Sšurtinaui's voice broke in, quiet and hesitant.

Jonathan's senses slowly aligned. The colors stopped fighting. The sounds stopped bleeding.

He could feel himself again.

But that first voice…

His eyes flicked open.

There were three of them.

Caroline. Sšurtinaui. And—

Who the hell…?

A girl. Leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed, gaze sharp. Familiar. But… different.

Tinsurnae?

No.

Her features were familiar—but her presence had shifted. Aura woven tighter. Her body is smaller and eyes warrier. But those eyes were the same.

He blinked again. Slowly this time.

"…What the fuck did I miss?" he muttered.

Tinsurane smirked.

Caroline raised a brow.

Sšurtinaui sighed, tension leaking from her shoulders.

"A lot…" Tinsurnae said sheepishly, her tone way too casual for the circumstances. "What was that? You just went—well, I don't know. Was that like, a reawakening kind of thing? Or like… a spiritual cleanse? Maybe your inner beast got released?"

Jonathan just stared at her. No words. Just the tired glare of a man who'd fought his own soul.

"What?" she asked, raising both hands defensively. "You're the one who floated out like you just evolved into your final form."

Caroline stepped in, her voice light but with that low thrum of concern beneath it. "You good to stand, or are you still processing everything?"

Jonathan glanced down at himself. Tattered shorts. Bare feet. Skin still warm from whatever metaphysical fever dream he'd been dragged through. "Pretty sure I'm fine. My legs work." He stood—slowly. "See? Standing. Not screaming. That's a win."

"Yet," Tinsurnae mumbled.

But as he shifted, his eyes caught a flicker—movement to the side.

The elf.

Bow half-raised. An arrow cocked. Tension in her arms and judgment in her gaze. Aimed straight at his head.

Jonathan tilted his neck until it cracked. "You gonna shoot me or just admire the posture?"

She didn't lower the bow. "Your eyes," she said. "They looked like something else. They were… wrong."

Jonathan blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that. Accidentally left my Sharingan on. Blame the blood loss and trauma."

"Sharingan?" she echoed, confused.

"Don't worry about it. Just means I can see through bullshit going forward."

Caroline stepped beside him and smirked. "See? He's fine."

"Debatable," Tinsurnae muttered.

Jonathan ran a hand through his hair, still damp from blood—or memory. "I'm pretty sure this isn't a vision. Feels different. Jafar never lived this. And neither have I." He flexed his fingers. Felt the pulse of Ryun in his veins. "So hopefully I'm finally back in reality…"

Jonathan was then subjected to the Requiem equivalent of a school nurse check-up. Tinsurnae made him touch his toes. Sšurtinaui ran what felt like a million Ryun-based scans, even muttering under her breath like she was running a full diagnostic.

Eventually, they cleared him.

"Hurray," Jonathan muttered flatly. "Guess I'm not an evil demigod time bomb. Yet."

Then came the actual briefing.

The towers. The golden wave. The gods and Supreme beings watching from above. And the whole Civen-possibly-wants-us-dead problem.

Jonathan sighed. "Well that sucks."

Caroline, sitting nearby with her knees drawn to her chest, mirrored his mood. "Yeah. But hey, bright side—everyone's alive."

Jonathan glanced at Sšurtinaui. She hadn't said much. But he could feel her watching. Studying him. Like she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Then

Tinsurnae stretched.

It wasn't a casual stretch either. Back arched. Arms raised over her head. Hip cocked just slightly. Hair falling in just the right way.

Jonathan blinked. "Okay. You gotta chill with that."

Tinsurnae arched an eyebrow, holding the pose. "What? I'm literally just stretching."

"Sure. And I'm sure it takes a full-on Playboy Bunny front-page pose to crack your back?"

She smirked. "You're being ridiculous."

He turned to Caroline and Sšurtinaui for backup—only to find them already shaking their heads in disappointment.

Jonathan crossed his arms. "Y'all aren't gonna gaslight me."

Sšurtinaui raised her hand. "Now that everyone's up—"

"Oh, so you no longer see me as a thre—"

Her stare silenced him.

She continued, tone firm. "We need to collect the three purple gems. And eventually, deal with the Civen situation. We can't avoid her forever."

Caroline tilted her head, thinking. "Well… she didn't seem to care about Tinny or Jonathan."

"Tinny?" Tinsurnae blinked.

"New nickname," Caroline replied, grinning. "Glad you approve."

Tinsurnae giggled.

Jonathan nodded. "Though I just learned about this plan thirty seconds ago… I agree."

Sšurtinaui scowled. "Be serious."

"I wanna take a nap."

Tinsurnae cocked her head. "What even happened to you?"

"Um, pot meet kettle?" Jonathan shot back. "You're the one who gender-swapped mid-arc."

"I burned through my male soul. Now my female one's active."

"Right…" Jonathan muttered.

Caroline raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that really so insane? Considering everything else we've seen?"

Jonathan shrugged. "It's not every day your bro turns into a girl."

Tinsurnae smirked. "We're bros?"

"I would hope so," Jonathan said, cracking a tired smile. "Considering… well, shit—everything."

Sšurtinaui's voice rose—not angry, but firm. Commanding.

"Enough. We need to listen to Jonathan."

The group turned. Jonathan, held up a hand.

"Let's go over the plan first," he said. "Then we can talk about my… hell journey."

Sšurtinaui nodded once. "The plan remains the same—finish Caroline's quest, secure the rest of the purple gems, then shift focus to reds only."

Tinsurnae frowned. "Only reds is risky. They're the rarest, and if any of them break—or we fail to claim enough—we'll be screwed. We'll need to grab more purples. Maybe even some blacks. Just to compensate."

Sšurtinaui crossed her arms. "Hoarding reds gives us leverage. Civen has the biggest faction and probably always will. But points matter more than numbers."

Caroline leaned forward, skeptical. "So what… we're gonna reason with her?"

"If it can be done," Sšurtinaui said calmly. "If not, then having something she wants—points, gems, leverage—might buy us time."

Tinsurnae shook her head. "I still say aligning with the Vari Jujisn could be smart. Destiny's strong, and she's a walking deterrent. People hate her because of Vari—but that hate could be used against Civen too. It might scare others into backing off."

Sšurtinaui scoffed. "Or it paints a bigger target on our backs. You want to walk into a storm and beg the lightning to spare you?"

Tinsurnae countered. "And you want to play peacekeeper with a faction leader who has no reason to show mercy?"

"Stop," Caroline cut in.

They didn't hear her.

"Destiny could help if she's smart enough—"

"Civen doesn't negotiate—"

"Points won't matter if we're cornered—"

They kept talking.

Jonathan exhaled deeply. Sat back. Closed his eyes. Letting the arguing swirl around him like smoke. He wasn't angry. Just… tired.

Let them go at it, he thought. Let them yell and plan and panic.

He needed to think. Not just about their survival. But his own.

Who he was. What he'd become. And what he was willing to do to win.

"Shut up!"

The words cracked through the cave like thunder.

Silence fell immediately.

Jonathan's eyes blazed, his voice tight. "Here's what happened while I was stuck in my All About Jafar Hell Fest."

They listened as he recounted it all. The eerie campfire. Jafar, relaxed and smiling. Vari, smug and circling him like a shark. Rhan—silent, watching. And Yamdamorti, whose presence felt heavier than gravity.

At that name—Yamdamorti—Tinsurnae visibly flinched. Her breath caught, eyes narrowing. The color drained just slightly from her face.

No one missed it.

No one said anything.

When Jonathan finished, the group sat in stunned silence.

"You went back to Earth? And you made fun of my scrolls!"

"I'll be honest, I have no idea what the fuck that was."

"I never had anything like that happen to me…"

"You literally have two souls that change your gender."

They continued talking while Sšurtinaui's brows furrowed, voice slow and uncertain.

"That doesn't make sense. The whole idea of the Supremes and Kings is that they… exist. They are. They're not born. They're not made. They just… are. Like forces of nature. They're true gods."

"Exactly," Caroline said. "I had the same questions but never a good time to ask…"

Jonathan opened his mouth. "There's something called the Vantis, he—"

Tinsurnae suddenly shook her head. "No."

Her voice was quiet, but firm. Shaken.

"No."

Sšurtinaui turned to her. "You know something."

"No?" Jonathan asked, narrowing his eyes.

Tinsurnae shook her head, avoiding their gaze.

Caroline turned to her, eyebrows raised."We have a no secrets rule," Voice low but firm. "So—"

"There are some things that can't be spoken," Tinsurnae interrupted, sharper than before. "Maybe Jafar didn't care enough to tell Jonathan, but just take what you've seen so far and make your own—"

"What the hell does that even mean?!" Sšurtinaui snapped, stepping forward.

"It means shut up and listen to me!" Tinsurnae shot back.

"To what? Cryptic half-truths and warnings with no weight?"

"To the fact that some truths are bigger than you!"

Caroline winced and stepped between them. "Okay! Both of you chill. We just got Jonathan back, can we not implode in the next five minutes?"

Jonathan let out a slow, tired sigh. "It's fine. Honestly, it's better this way."

Sšurtinaui looked at him, startled. "Jonathan—"

He held up a hand.

"Let's be frank, okay? You, Caroline… the odds are stacked against us. No question. But that's only if you stay."

They both stared at him. Quiet.

"I'm different now," Jonathan said, voice low but steady. "I'm still figuring shit out. And if you don't wanna come along for that ride, I get it."

Sšurtinaui opened her mouth—but he kept going.

"One second, elf." He locked eyes with each of them.

"I'm done holding back. Done suppressing whatever instincts, urges, whatever's inside me. I've been polite. I've been careful. That ends now."

He leaned back slightly, red veins faintly glowing under his skin like cracks.

"I'm winning this tournament. I don't care about the gems. I don't care who's hunting me. I will burn down anything standing in my way."

Silence.

"So." He exhaled, slow and final.

"You're either with me… or you're against me. But I'm walking out of this stupid event victorious."