You Already Won

Above Curtenail, the heavens split into two visions of annihilation.

One—a ray of light—blazed like a spear piercing the veil of reality, its edges haloed in gold and floral fire. Destiny cut across the sky like the judgment of the sun itself, every shift of her momentum bending the clouds into searing ribbons.

The other—a streak of abyssal hate—moved like a scar across existence. Ashantiana's voided presence was less motion and more an infection spreading through the air, trailing streams of rotted black and violet Ryun that warped the sky behind her.

They met.

The collision was less a sound and more a reality-wrenching detonation. Space folded, then buckled inward as their blows shattered the land below.

Destiny twisted, turning her light into a razor that slashed the horizon. Entire mountain ridges split as the golden wave expanded, flattening forests in a flash, incinerating anything alive before the shockwave even arrived.

Ashantiana countered, a streak of abyssal venom lashing outward. Her strike was a screaming shadow, carving a rift through the ground that dragged whole towns into the dark. Villages simply… sunk, their shapes warping and collapsing into nothing but dust and fractured light.

The two tore across Curtenail, each impact like a god's hammer. The land beneath them was no longer land—it was churned wreckage, rivers boiling in their channels, cities crushed into unrecognizable craters. Many Signal Towers fell with occupants in them.

Each time Destiny streaked overhead, a wave of floral gold followed, bright enough to bleach the air. Each time Ashantiana passed, the void followed, a bloom of corrosive hatred eating through whatever it touched.

Debris rained down in blackened shards. Chunks of towers, molten glass, entire streets lifted into the sky before being scattered like ash.

Contestants didn't even have the chance to scream—Freelancer, Outlanders and natives alike were caught in the storm. Some were vaporized instantly, others thrown hundreds of feet before striking what was left of the ground.

By the time they tore away from each other, 7% of Curtenail was gone. A swath erased or twisted beyond recognition. Reality itself sagged in their wake—warped terrain, bent skylines, patches of bleeding air that would take decades to heal, if they ever did.

The land was screaming, its once-vast expanse torn into an open wound.

And both streaks turned, already accelerating for another clash.

Destiny rose like a sun given form, her golden aura flaring so violently the air shimmered. Hands swept out, and above her, an array of golden orbs appeared—each one glowing like a miniature sun. They rotated in perfect harmony, forming a solar system like structure, a precise constellation of radiant power.

The orbs pulsed once, then all at once launched streams of concentrated golden Ryun. They weren't beams—they were rays, impossibly thin and blindingly hot, each carrying the precision of a divine judgment.

Ashantiana barely tilted her head. Her black-violet Ryun surged outward, condensing in front of her hand into a mass that twisted like an event horizon. She swept it in a slow arc. Space bent, and Destiny's rays refracted, curving away and colliding into the ruined landscape instead—explosions carving deeper craters in Curtenail's flesh.

Destiny narrowed her golden eyes, smirking despite the deflection. "Alright, let's see how you handle this."

From her aura, five golden serpent heads burst forth—each crowned with horns of pure Ryun, each maw glowing with divine silver flame. They twisted through the air, weaving around one another before snapping forward, converging on Ashantiana with overwhelming force.

Ashantiana met them with a low growl of disgust. She raised her arms, her black Ryun solidifying into jagged, plated shapes like corrupted armor. From her own aura, tendrils of violet-black energy erupted, wrapping around the serpent heads and holding them fast. Each golden snake thrashed violently, silver flames roaring, but Ashantiana's void drank the fire, pulling the heat into nothingness.

Her eyes narrowed. Enough of this.

With a flick of her wrists, the serpent heads exploded in showers of golden fragments. She stepped forward—and was instantly upon Destiny.

The shift to close combat was so fast, the air itself didn't register it in time. One moment they were standing apart, the next, their fists collided.

Destiny's knuckles blazed, every strike a meteor of golden Ryun, her movements precise and cutting. Her footwork spun her through the air like a dance, knees snapping upward in piston strikes, elbows whipping with terrifying speed.

Ashantiana met her blow for blow, black Ryun coating her limbs like living armor. Her strikes weren't elegant—they were inevitable. Each punch dropped like a guillotine, each block carried the weight of a crushing tide. She shifted with short, brutal pivots, stepping into Destiny's space with all the subtlety of a collapsing mountain.

Destiny slipped under a hook, golden aura erupting from her elbow as she aimed for Ashantiana's ribs. The warrior of hatred twisted at the last instant, catching Destiny's wrist in a black-violet grip and wrenching her around. Destiny responded instantly, twisting her body mid-air, kicking off Ashantiana's forearm and sending a blinding burst of golden Ryun in her face.

Ashantiana's head tilted slightly as the blast parted harmlessly around her. She stepped in, her knee rocketing upward—Destiny blocked with her forearm, sparks of golden and black energy tearing at the air where their limbs met.

The exchange went on in a blur of motion—punches, knees, and kicks flashing faster than light. The air rippled violently around them, ground fracturing and folding with every step.

Then their fists met.

The collision was deafening. A shockwave erupted outward, flattening the jagged terrain around them and sending both fighters flying back.

Destiny skidded across the fractured earth, boots digging trenches as she slowed herself. Her body was bloodied now, golden light flickering unsteadily around her. She staggered once, breathing heavy—but there was a grin pulling at her lips.

Her chest rose and fell as she licked a streak of blood from the corner of her mouth. "Now we're talking… where were you this whole time? Hiding away?"

Ashantiana straightened in the distance. Her stance hadn't shifted. Her abyssal eyes stared at Destiny without even the faintest spark of amusement.

This wasn't fun. This wasn't a challenge.

And this stupid, pathetic thing in front of her didn't seem to understand that.

Ashantiana's voice came out like a jagged groan.

"You don't seem to understand…"

Destiny straightened, her stance steadying even though her heartbeat hammered in her ears. She couldn't parse the language, but the aura said everything.

"This is not a battle. You will not enjoy this." Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with the strain of containing her own fury. "I hate you. I hate you with every fiber of my body. I hate what you are. I hate what you represent. You're the rotting filth dripping from Vari's sperm—a disease. You don't hear me. You won't care. So I'll be what you deserve…"

Her head tilted forward slightly, eyes half-shadowed in the abyss of her own aura.

"… A curse. A curse for the divine."

Destiny blinked, her golden eyes narrowing. She couldn't make out every word, but she didn't need to. The waves rolling off Ashantiana were full of pure loathing. It wasn't just for her—it was for everything tied to her.

For the first time, Destiny felt her own stance falter.

Her thoughts brushed against something she'd never truly stopped to consider—the natives. The ones crushed under tournaments, Supreme bloodlines, family games. She had always seen it as the way of the world. But from this side…

Her guard eased—just slightly. Maybe there was more here than…

Her instincts screamed.

Her gaze snapped up. Ashantiana was staring at her. Her void-colored eyes burned hotter than any flame.

"Are you… pitying me?!"

Destiny's brows drew together. "Hm?"

"Huh…" A shudder rippled through Ashantiana's frame. Then— "Huh…huh….haha…ahahah…hahahaha…HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

She doubled over, laughter exploding from her. It was a laughter that felt wrong. A laughter that sounded almost delighted.

"The nerve…" Her head snapped up, her face twisted in an unholy grin.

"You can…"

Her voice boomed like the weight of collapsing mountains.

"…DIE."

The world ruptured.

It started as a deep, impossible silence. Then the air folded inward, the horizon warping as if dragged toward a single collapsing point. The suns dimmed, shadows stretching long and jagged.

A black vortex formed above her, its center writhing like a living wound in space. The pull wasn't just gravity—it was death itself, drawing in everything that could be claimed.

Inside the swirling heart of that black hole, streaks of Ryun—once dark and venomous—rushed inward. They weren't mere energy; they were the grievances of the land, the hatred of every shattered home, burned forest, and broken life. The raw will of Curtenail's suffering poured into Ashantiana.

Her aura twisted violently. The black Ryun boiled, deepened, and then cracked. A vile, sickly luster seeped out—Sryun, but not like any Destiny had felt before. It was vile, a poison that tasted of old, enduring rage.

Destiny's golden aura flickered. Her breath caught in her chest.

She felt it in her bones. This wasn't an fight anymore—this was an execution.

——

Crisper finally clawed her way out from the rubble, her boots scraping stone as she pulled herself free. Her breathing was ragged, but more from disbelief than exhaustion.

She'd fallen far. The collapse had dropped her into some hidden cave system, a jagged maze of rock and dust. Climbing out had taken what felt like forever.

When she reached the surface—

Her stomach sank.

Everything looked like the tournament's opening day. The land looked like it had taken multiple nuclear strikes. Scorched craters as far as she could see. Blackened forest skeletons stabbing up into a sky smudged with ash. The wind carried dust and the acrid tang of melted stone.

"Holy… goddamn…" she muttered under her breath.

At first she couldn't see much—the haze was too thick—but her UI flickered to life. Auto-calibration swept through her vision, clearing the fog into a sharper focus.

That's when she saw it.

A black sphere in the far distance, impossibly still… and then dissipating.

The next instant—FLASH.

A streak of golden light cut the horizon in half. A beam tore outward, slicing through what was left of the battlefield. Entire sections of land simply… ceased to exist.

Whatever was happening out there—

It wasn't good.

She pushed forward, leaping across broken ridges, her footfalls muffled by the settling dust. Each jump brought her closer to where Destiny was supposed to be—

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

And then she stopped.

Her boot hung over the next ledge, suspended in midair as her mind caught up to her instincts.

Did she really need to help her?

Sure, the last few days had been… fun. More fun than she expected, especially with Jamal's commentary keeping things from feeling like pure hell. Destiny had even been tolerable, in her own larger-than-life way.

But at the end of the day?

Crisper didn't owe her anything.

There was no contract. Just mutual convenience. And now… now the board was shifting.

Her eyes narrowed as the beam in the distance flared again, her HUD pinging rising energy levels.

If she played this right… if she took her chance while Destiny was distracted…

Killing her could work in Crisper's favor.

The loot would be insane.

That much Crisper knew. A Supreme-tier Jujisn going down? The drops alone could carry her through this tournament without having to grind another day. Her chat was already going absolutely feral.

[Jelly_Clutch]: DO IT. SHE WON'T SEE IT COMING.

[Folk-Lore]: HEADSHOT. EASY. FREE LOOT.

[GrimDays]: Bro she's literally distracted, don't throw.

[ChalkedSoulline]: This is your chance to solo the leaderboard.

Crisper's tongue clicked against her teeth as she crouched low on the fractured ridge. She toggled her weapon wheel. A clean scroll later, the sniper was in her hands—a matte, obsidian-barreled beast with glowing calibration lines crawling up the length.

A slow exhale.

She raised the scope.

Zoomed in.

Destiny came into focus instantly, framed in the reticle like a prize in a showcase.

Only… this wasn't the usual Destiny.

Gone was the unshakable confidence. Gone was the smug little half-smile she always seemed to wear, like she was in on some joke no one else could hear.

Her face—normally carved from stone—was etched with fear. Confusion.

It was… wrong.

Crisper's finger hovered over the trigger.

Her chat was losing it now, messages cascading across the edge of her vision in a blur of flashing usernames:

[Folk-Lore]: STOP CHOKING. PULL IT.

[LeafShade]: OMG ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?

[1337yourmomis]: This is why you're mid-tier.

She muted the feed with a flick.

It didn't matter what they wanted.

It didn't matter what they thought they knew about this world.

This was on her.

Her decision. Her betrayal.

She realigned the sight, centering it over Destiny's chest. Her finger tightened on the trigger—

And she took the shot.

——

Destiny caught the glint at the last possible second—a thin streak slicing the haze.

Ashantiana fist, black with seething Sryun, shifted mid-swing to drive straight through Destiny's chest.

The sniper round slammed into Ashantiana's knuckles with a metallic crack, diverting her strike just enough for Destiny to rip herself sideways in a short-range teleport.

Her vision swam. Her footing felt nonexistent. She staggered two steps—

Ashantiana was already there.

The first blow was like a mountain caving in on her ribs. The Sryun coating the fist tore straight through her Ryun barrier and aura layers like they were wet paper, shattering the shields in jagged, hissing fragments.

Destiny's breath snapped out of her lungs as the second punch drove her into the ground.

And then it didn't stop.

Crack.

A hook split her guard, her jaw whipping to the side.

Splat.

A downward strike smashed into her collarbone, the flesh bruising dark even as her healing struggled to keep pace.

Punch. Punch.

Each impact buried her deeper into the crater, the earth breaking into concentric fractures beneath them.

Crack.

Blood flecked her lips, her teeth clenching to stop a scream.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

Her body convulsed under the relentless barrage, her golden aura shattering again and again, failing faster each time.

Ashantiana's hand hovered for a fraction of a second—then came down.

Spit.

The saliva hit her chest and sizzled instantly, burning into her flesh like acid.

Destiny screamed, the sound echoing up the ruined chasm.

——

Crisper bolted, boots slipping on loose stone as her voice cracked.

"I'm a dumbass—a big ol' dumbass. Yeah, that's me. I'm a what? One, two, three—a dumbass!"

She cursed under her breath, vaulting over a split section of earth, then slapped her weapon wheel open mid-run.

The spec bike materialized in a shimmer of polygons, tires hissing to life. She swung a leg over, revved it once, and it purred like digital silk.

Because of video game logic, it was gunning over jagged terrain like it was nothing. The bike vaulted clean over a crack in the earth, landing hard and skidding sideways on the broken terrain.

She looked toward the hellish crater where Destiny was still taking a beating, jaw set. Once she got a better look at the attacker. No health bar but it did have a title. "The Land's Herald". "Aww come on!" She dragged a hand over her face. This was one of those moments she told herself, she'd need to pull out all stops.

She sighed and tapped her UI.

Her killstreak tab rotated into view, glowing with options that belonged in top-tier endgame missions.

"Fine," she grumbled. "Guess we're doing this. Relax… it's just a high level area boss. I've killed plenty of those before….yeah."

Her finger hovered for a second—then she slammed the selection.

Crisper grit her teeth.

Unknown to Destiny, when she first pulled Crisper into her little ragtag operation, she'd automatically opened a guest slot under her party settings—marked as a provisional member of Vari. Destiny didn't have a UI, so she never noticed. Crisper did.

And now? Now was the time.

She flicked open the party menu, her rainbow hair reflecting off the hovering screen, and accepted the invite. A soft chime rang as Crisper's tag shifted from Neutral to Party: Guest of Vari.

Perfect.

"Alright, D, don't make me regret this," she muttered, her smirk sharp.

Her killstreak tab pulsed. First selection: UAV.

The sky lit with faint gridlines as an enormous spectral drone streaked overhead, its cameras shimmering like crystalized Ryun. The terrain below painted itself in infrared; Ashantiana's silhouette burned red-hot, her abyssal Sryun radiating like a bonfire in a world of embers. While Destiny's was getting dimmer.

Crisper didn't waste time. "Plan A—live."

The second selection: Napalm Strike.

Three streaks of blazing light screamed overhead, each trailing orange and white contrails before exploding into columns of fire. The air buckled, shockwaves tearing at the earth as a wall of flame roared toward Ashantiana.

Ashantiana didn't slow. Even as the inferno clawed at her, she punched through it, Sryun hissing against the flames, her strikes still hammering Destiny into the ground. The Jujisn of Vari's future was bleeding and beaten—but still hanging in there.

"Alright," Crisper grinned, rainbow hair whipping as she slid to the next tab. "Plan B."

Chopper Gunner.

Reality shimmered. A massive black-and-silver gunship tore its way out of a glitch in the clouds, Ryun engines screaming as Crisper's view shifted—cockpit controls locking into her UI. She was inside.

She slammed the triggers.

BAHANAHGAHANAHANBANHANA!

The autocannons roared, golden tracer rounds slamming into the battlefield. Earth shattered. Trees evaporated. Every bullet that hit Ashantiana exploded in miniature bursts of molten light. Her Sryun barrier shredded bullet after bullet, but sheer volume was eating away at her patience.

Ashantiana snarled, turning her head toward the gunship.

Her rage locked on Crisper.

And then she did the unthinkable—snatching Destiny by the face, she lunged, moving almost faster than Crisper could track.

The chopper's alarms blared as Ashantiana, holding Destiny like some grotesque divine weapon, launched herself directly at the gunship.

Crisper's grin sharpened as she toggled out of the cockpit UI. Her loadout materialized, and she yanked free her custom LMG, Ryun-carved casing humming with rainbow tracers chambered.

She vaulted straight out of the chopper.

Gravity bit, her hair snapping wildly around her face, but her sights were already locked.

"Gotcha, bitch!"

Her LMG roared to life, mag dumping a cascade of aurora-colored rounds. Ashantiana reacted instantly—dragging Destiny in front of her, her limp silver hair whipping like a fallen banner.

But the bullets didn't stop.

Crisper's grin split wider. The moment the shots touched Destiny's skin, they phased through, vanishing harmlessly—only to rip into Ashantiana's form.

The abyssal being staggered, purple Sryun flashing as she absorbed impact after impact. She hissed, her grip tightening on Destiny's hair.

And then Destiny's good eye flared with golden light.

A laser erupted point-blank into Ashantiana's face, followed by her palms slamming together. Between them, a golden-silver Ryun bomb crackled into existence, unstable and burning with righteous fire.

Ashantiana's eyes widened—just long enough for the bomb to detonate.

BOOM.

The shockwave blew both figures apart in a sphere of molten light and screaming Sryun.

Destiny's vision blackened at the edges, the pain biting at her nerves like molten glass, but she refused to fold. Vari could endure this… and so could she.

Her body drifted midair, slowing—until a golden translucent orb expanded around her, cushioning her blowback. She coughed blood, eyes burning as she pulled in every last scrap of Ryun. Her gaze flared, her aura boiling—

—just in time for Ashantiana, through the storm of bullets, to smash into her like a living warhead.

The golden sphere shattered.

They plummeted together, a comet of gold and black, before slamming into the ground hard enough to crater the earth.

Ashantiana landed atop her, knees planted, both hands wrapping around Destiny's throat.

The air thickened with killing intent.

Her nails elongated into black Sryun spikes, curling like venomous thorns. They pressed into Destiny's skin, the smell of burning flesh filling the air as the spikes sank deeper.

Ashantiana's voice was low, trembling with hatred.

"You will die screaming."

"GET—OFF!"

Crisper's voice cracked through the chaos like a war siren.

The mech suit dropped from her weapon wheel in a shower of hard-light sparks, plating snapping into place around her in a single smooth fold. Servos screamed as she launched forward, one reinforced leg slamming into Ashantiana's ribs. The impact made the air ripple—Sryun cracked across the suit's knee plating, but Ashantiana was actually knocked back.

"Yeah, how's that taste?!"

No time to celebrate.

Ashantiana's form twisted midair, landing in a spider-crawl on all fours. Black Sryun boiled around her like liquid shadow, surging along her limbs as she sprinted forward.

Crisper braced.

The mech's HUD lit red. Twin forearm turrets spun up, UAV still feeding positional pings through the dust and debris. She let the suit roar to life, turrets barking out a storm of kinetic rounds. Explosive tracers cut through the haze, chasing Ashantiana's afterimages.

Ashantiana blurred between them—one swipe of her clawed hand split a turret clean off, another gouge tearing a glowing line down the mech's chest plate.

Crisper didn't let up. Boosters screamed as she sidestepped, dumping a missile pod at point blank.

The blast knocked Ashantiana into the rubble, black Sryun hissing like acid in the air.

It bought seconds.

Destiny watched from the dirt, her chest rising and falling hard. Every second hurt to watch. Crisper wasn't supposed to be taking this kind of punishment. This wasn't her fight. She was the sidekick, the cleanup hitter—not the one tanking boss level nightmares.

Destiny tried to move. Her body felt like it belonged to someone else. She staggered up, half collapsing again, focusing everything she had left just to knit her ribs and clear her vision.

Then the world lit up.

A shockwave hammered her side as an explosion ripped through the terrain. Crisper's voice was just a sharp, panicked bark—

"Incoming!"

Arms locked under her shoulders, metal plates scraping her skin. Crisper's mech thrusters flared white, sending them lurching into the air. The suit's jetpack coughed under the strain, carrying them barely a few feet above the shattered ground.

Ashantiana was behind them, sprinting low on all fours—each step detonating the earth beneath her.

"What the fuck did you do to that thing?!" Crisper's voice cracked, panic straining her usual cocky bite.

Destiny's head lolled, golden eyes half-lidded. To Crisper, it looked like confusion. In reality, Destiny just didn't have the strength to answer.

The jetpack sputtered, altitude dipping. Crisper's systems screamed low fuel. She cursed under her breath, forcing the suit down into a rolling land—four-wheeler screaming into the dirt as her summon snapped into reality.

"Hold on, hold on—"

Destiny slumped forward, arms around Crisper's waist as the mech clamped onto the handlebars. The four-wheeler roared, tearing across the fractured terrain.

Crisper's HUD flickered—just long enough for a horrible shadow to appear ahead of them.

Ashantiana.

A massive sphere of pure Sryun hatred swirled above her head, clutched in both clawed hands. Her eyes burned with fury.

"Crap—" Crisper didn't finish.

The orb came down.

The impact ripped the landscape apart.

A blinding flash seared across the horizon. The ground collapsed inward in a massive crater, three distinct shock rings ripping through the terrain like a titan's heartbeat.

Crisper and Destiny were nothing but ragdolls in the shockwave—until Crisper's voice snarled through gritted teeth, "Checkpoint! Rewind—NOW!"

Reality lurched. The ground where they'd been standing folded back on itself—time snapping to a few seconds before the detonation.

Crisper's mech hit the ground in a smoking heap, servos seizing, systems flashing red.

She didn't hesitate. Eject. The harness snapped open, a hiss of pressure as she vaulted clear—boots hitting scorched earth in a combat roll. She then grabbed Destiny and ran away as fast as she could. The explosion went off. They landed hard, alive, just outside the blast radius.

She got back up on her feet and faced the direction of the terror. Her rifle was already materializing from her wheel, the weight settling into her hands like an old friend.

Her scope locked on the target.

Ashantiana stepped from the fading smoke, Sryun dripping off her in streams of black and violet, her form barely holding shape under the molten aura of her hatred.

Crisper's crosshair steadied.

"…Headshot."

The round cracked through the air, slamming into Ashantiana's temple. Her head snapped to the side, flesh and Sryun shredding—

—and knitting back together.

Crisper's jaw tightened.

"Headshot. Headshot. Headshot."

Each shot was clean, each impact staggering Ashantiana, but every time the wounds closed faster.

Reload. Fingers working the action without a thought. New mag. Stun rounds.

"Headshot. Headshot. Headshot."

Ashantiana didn't slow.

Crisper swapped again—this time flaming rounds, chamber hissing.

"Headshot. Headshot. Chest. Heart. Head. Goddamn die already!"

Each round burned through black Sryun in bursts of orange light, staggering Ashantiana but never stopping her. If anything, her regeneration sharpened with every wound, the burns closing with a hiss like quenched steel.

Crisper's scope view flashed—Ashantiana's form blurred.

The monster threw her head back.

The sound that followed wasn't a scream. It was death given voice.

Every living thing in the area froze. The air warped, colors dying into a void gray. The force of the scream came not as wind or pressure, but as pure, undiluted hatred—pouring toward Crisper and Destiny like a flood of razors.

The terrain buckled like paper burning. Trees inverted to skeletal silhouettes that bled upwards into the sky like ink.

Crisper's heartbeat stuttered. The scope's auto-compensation was screaming warnings, numbers dropping—ammo count, her tactical suit's integrity, even her own health bar dimming.

Destiny's golden aura flickered on the ground.

And then the wave of death reached them.

The gray world shattered into black shards, each shard a whisper of annihilation, and the air slammed against them in a rush of cold that felt like the end of the world.

Just as the wave of death was about to swallow them, Destiny surged forward, throwing herself in front of Crisper. Golden Ryun flared from her battered body, clashing against the black flood like sunlight against tar.

Behind her, Crisper's UI bloomed with warnings as she conjured a riot shield, bracing, if anymore touched her she would die. A single line glared back at her from the party display when she glanced toward Destiny:

[Higher Status]

She could only hope that meant Destiny could endure this.

Destiny wasn't so sure.

Every breath was agony. Her golden aura shredded under the pressure, and every fiber of her being screamed to let go. The only reason she was still standing was because of Vari—and that truth dug into her deeper than any wound. Her victories were supposed to be her own, but this beating, this wave… this was breaking her. She wasn't about to drag Crisper down with her, pride wouldn't allow it.

Her knees buckled. Vision warped. Snatches of memory—or maybe flashes of another life—flickered in her mind as the darkness closed in.

And then… the land changed.

Death didn't vanish, but its weight shifted. It didn't dominate here—not now.

A sharp crack rippled through the ruined battlefield, like a ball smacking hardwood. A metaphorical—and somehow metaphysical—basketball court arced into existence.

Everyone turned. Destiny. Crisper. Even Ashantiana.

The source was bleeding, furious, dreads swaying in the searing wind, a purple gem glowing like a beacon in his chest.

Jamal stood there, eyes locked on Ashantiana, his expression carved into something between annoyance and murder.

He smirked.

"I hope you can hoop, bitch."