You Already Won

Jamal was used to being handcuffed.

He wouldn't be surprised if they handcuffed his corpse after the shooting in the corner store. That's how many times it had happened. What he hated more than being cuffed?

Being stared at while cuffed.

The handcuffs themselves weren't metal just some weird bullshit—light bands with little rotating glyphs. Still, the symbolism stung. Powerless. Held. Scrutinized.

And Jamal was tired.

The magic court—that metaphysical basketball deathtrap—had drained him more than he cared to admit. The gem around his neck wasn't even reacting anymore.

He shifted his weight and looked at Crisper.

Her tactical suit was torn to hell, hanging in burnt strips around her arms and chest plate. Her rainbow hair, normally slick and vibrant, now frizzed like she'd lost a fight with a toaster. Jamal remembered her unloading on that void freak. Girl had gone World War All of Them. No hesitation.

Then he glanced to the corner.

Destiny.

Still unconscious. Tied up, but they'd at least let her lie down. Crisper had managed to inject her with some healing stims before they got hauled off to this… basement. Yes, basement. The most terrifying post-apocalyptic war in the region's history and they ended up in someone's unfinished basement. Cement floor. Metal pipe walls. Single flickering light orb floating overhead.

They'd been down here for three hours.

No clocks. Just gut feeling.

The woman with the curved white sword stood a few feet away, watching them like they might sprout wings and fly off. She didn't talk. Just watched. Crisper didn't seem to notice—or care. She sat slumped with her back against the wall, legs out, eyes dazed. Not sleeping. Just… somewhere else. It almost seemed pointless to bound her too.

Jamal tilted his head toward her.

"You good?"

She didn't respond.

Maybe she wasn't built to process things like this. Maybe she was, but not all at once. He didn't know how video game people decompressed. Were they even coded for trauma?

Still, he got it.

Shit had been a lot.

And it wasn't over yet.

Seeing that Crisper wasn't gonna be much help at the moment, Jamal turned toward their jailer.

The woman with the curved glowing white sword.

Ryun—that was what everyone was calling the magic here, right? Or were Ryun and magic different? Whatever. He took a good look at her. Robe was a blue-orange gradient, kind of like a sky before a storm. Her hair was long and green, tied loosely behind her back, and her eyes were a bright unnatural purple. Definitely gave off that "slice-you-in-half-for-breathing-wrong" energy.

She looked at him and growled.

Jamal made a face. "Don't gotta be weird. Already got a brotha tied up."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you don't know English. Welp."

"I do," she replied flatly.

"Oh. So you was bein' weird for none then?"

"You talk so strange."

He shrugged. "To me, you talk strange, blood."

"Blood? I'm not bleeding."

"Nevermind, dumbass."

"Says the one calling me 'blood.'"

"'Cause you is a blood, blood. It's like a noun. You know what a noun is, shawty?"

"Blood… shawty. I don't follow."

"I bet ya sexy ass doesn't."

She chuckled. "Flattery won't get you anywhere. You still have the punishment for her actions." She pointed her blade lazily toward Crisper. "And we still have to figure out what she is, since you won't say." Pointing the blade at Destiny. She smiled. "Unless you want to join—"

"Naw, blood," he cut her off. "I don't do that flipping sides shit. These my people. I'ma ride with them, right or wrong. I don't know why Skittles swiss-cheesed ya boys but hey—fuck it." He shrugged as best he could. "It is what it is."

"Caelus was right. You are very bold."

"Naw, I just been on both sides more times than I can count. Mostly on your side during these type of situations, but since you haven't killed us yet, I don't feel any fear. You need something, I'm assuming."

She frowned, not answering right away.

The gem around Jamal's neck wasn't lighting up. No soft pulses. Jamal couldn't feel it humming.

Granny gem must've thought the same thing he did.

Good.

He was also real glad it didn't fall off during all the explosion bullshit earlier.

Jamal leaned back against the wall, as much as the cuffs would allow. "So. That Caelus guy—he the big boss?"

The woman narrowed her eyes. "He is the Calmbrand. One of the strongest in the land. Of course he is in charge."

Jamal whistled low. "Damn, got the resume and the title. Must be nice."

She didn't respond.

He kept going. "You just following orders, then? Not usually the role I'd peg you for."

Her gaze sharpened, but she didn't lash out.

"He's a righteous fighter," she said finally. "And a great leader. Why wouldn't I follow? To become strong… you align yourself with stronger forces."

Jamal chuckled. "Mmhmm. Like a branch catchin' a ride on a river and calling itself a boat."

Her brow furrowed.

He smirked. "Or like lettin' a lion hunt your meal and calling it teamwork."

"I don't understand..."

"Yeah, you ain't supposed to."

She tilted her head slightly, still watching him with that cold-laced curiosity.

He saw the crack. Just a little.

"You got a name?" he asked casually. "I mean, if we're doing the whole 'keep us tied up in a basement' thing, least we could do is exchange pleasantries."

She said nothing.

"Okay," Jamal nodded. "I'll go first. I'm Jamal. I hoop, I cook, I smoke. I'm very single, tragically cuffed, and probably smell like burnt shit."

Still no answer, but her mouth twitched like she was suppressing something. Progress.

He kept going.

"So this your main base? Or y'all just squattin' here?"

No answer.

"No second in command around? Seems like Caelus would have a backup. Gotta have someone to hold it down when he's off doing that sparkly star slice shit."

She blinked slowly. "You talk too much."

"That's fair," Jamal admitted. "But it's either that or stare at the wall and think about how I nearly died in a magical basketball game."

There was a long pause. The kind that sat heavy but not quite hostile.

"Danyel," she said, almost absentmindedly.

"Huh?"

"My name. Danyel."

Jamal smiled wide. "Ight bet! We homies now."

She rolled her eyes, but there wasn't venom in it anymore.

"You ever get tired of guarding prisoners in basements?" he asked, leaning into the chill tone. "Like, do y'all take shifts or is it one of those overachiever-type camps? I'm just trying to figure out how y'all union works."

She snorted faintly.

"Ain't that a shame," he said. "Should at least be getting hazard pay with all that Ryun slicing. Or dental."

Danyel's mouth curled—just briefly—into something like amusement.

Then she caught herself.

Her face tightened, and she straightened up again. Cold returned to her posture. "No more talking."

"Aww, come on," Jamal said, mock whining. "We was just chillin', blood."

"I'm not your blood," she snapped, stepping closer, lips curling in a sneer.

Jamal's grin didn't waver. "Oh… you'll regret saying that," he muttered, to himself.

Because if she wasn't his blood now… she'd be eating those words when the tables turned.

He could feel it—slow, steady, but unmistakable. His aura, once ragged and drained, was quietly charging back up. Repairing itself. Healing. He wouldn't be pulling another magical court stunt anytime soon—hell, he barely knew how he did it the first time—but something was shifting. Building.

That was good.

Playing it cool and backdooring? That was second nature. Give him a few more minutes—just a bit more time—and he'd have a better read on this group. They weren't Civen, or at least didn't feel connected to that freak yet. Which meant they were either a new piece or a rogue variable.

He grinned to himself.

Just a little longer. Let the act ride. Then he'd flip the table.

Again.

——

Destiny woke up in her room at the Solarium Bastion.

The familiar bed was soft beneath her, but nothing about this felt right. Her eyes drifted to the window, blinking slowly. Beyond the silken drapes, the eternal golden field shimmered in celestial radiance. Rings of starlight spun across the sky—slow, precise, beautiful in their orchestration. They cast halos through the haze, their movement tracing an ancient rhythm known only to the architects of this cosmos.

She couldn't see them, but she felt them—the bowed figures of forty-eight forgotten elder gods, drowning in eternal gold, their agony wound into the very bones of the Bastion. She had lived here long enough to know the cost of its construction. That weight had never pressed on her as much as it did now. Maybe it was the pain still throbbing in her chest. Or the bitter knowledge that her power, even fueled by Vari's legacy, had nearly failed her.

Did I die?

She slowly sat up, one hand on her ribs. Everything ached. Her bones, her pride, her memories. The last thing she remembered was—

"Oh, great. So this is hell."

The words left her mouth before she even fully turned. But there she was. Reclined on the most absurdly comfortable chaise in existence, sipping red wine from a chalice.

Vari.

No—B'Raixa Daqui Vari. The Supreme Family Head. The living myth. The embodiment of elegance, power, and every terrible decision Destiny wished she hadn't made.

She was draped in black and gold, her pale skin glowing faintly in the warm light of the room. Her eyes, those cursed golden slits, tracked Destiny lazily over the rim of her glass. A crown of serpents—alive, golden, and alert—rested on her shoulders like jewelry forged from sin itself. One of them even hissed when Destiny sat up.

"Good," Vari said, voice like silk. "You're awake."

Destiny stared, deadpan.

Vari smiled faintly. "Don't look so sour."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Destiny sat in silence for a long moment before finally speaking.

"Did you save my life?"

Vari waved her hand dismissively, her golden serpents glinting under the soft celestial light. "No, no. Of course not. Your soul came here on its own. How charming. It's nice to know you see this place as home. Or perhaps…" She smiled faintly. "You missed me."

Destiny clenched her fist, the nails digging into her palm. Her first instinct was to lash out—but she took a deep breath instead. With effort, she pushed off the bed and walked across the room.

Her chambers were chaotic, an eclectic blend of aesthetics and moods. Starlight chandeliers hovered beside antique tapestries; futuristic neon sigils glowed behind faded celestial frescoes. There were plush pillows shaped like war beasts and Pokémon, a painting of her old apartment on Earth, and a ceremonial weapon rack beside a wooden bookshelf of romantic tragedies.

She lowered herself onto the couch across from Vari, hair falling in a silver curtain over her face. Vari tilted her head and offered her chalice.

"Wine?"

"No," Destiny muttered, eyes on the floor.

Vari swirled her drink gently. "You know," she said, voice elegant and detached, "this tournament has become far more interesting than I anticipated. So many little pieces moving. So many players awakening. An event worthy of legacy. Such a delightful timeline, wouldn't you say?"

Destiny didn't lift her gaze.

"You saw it."

Vari sipped.

"Hmm?"

"Don't 'hmm' me," Destiny snapped. Her voice cracked, low and trembling. "You saw it."

Vari let out a soft chuckle. "You getting your ass kicked? Yes. I witnessed that unflattering display."

Destiny trembled. Rage twisted through her, shaking her shoulders and burning her lungs. She shot to her feet, finger stabbing the air like a blade.

"Bullshit!" she yelled. "That was such bullshit! I could do nothing once she used Sryun!"

Vari raised a brow, but said nothing. Destiny didn't stop.

"You—you could've taught me more about it! But no. You didn't! You just sit there smirking while I get dragged through the mud. Why didn't you teach me more about Sryun?"

She took a breath, but the words refused to stop pouring out.

"And more importantly, why are you such a fucking asshole?! Everyone hates you! Hates us! With this… this fury I've never felt in my life. What did you do? What the hell is wrong with you?! Those are innocent people's lives on the line! And you talk about how fun this deathmatch is going?!"

Her voice broke. Her hands were shaking. It dawned on her… she wasn't much different. Her own battles cost many lives.

"When… when did I become so selfish?" she whispered. "So numb? I thought I was better than this. I am better than this. If I'm you, why the hell am I struggling?"

She clenched her fists tighter, head finally rising to meet Vari's eyes.

"I'm not lesser than you. Not by any means. But I just—I can't—" She exhaled, sharp and full of helpless fury. "Who are you?!"

Vari regarded her for a long moment, golden eyes calm, lips curved in a delighted smile. She took another sip of wine.

"Answer me," Destiny demanded, voice sharp.

Vari's gaze didn't waver. "Don't raise your voice to me, Destiny."

The words weren't loud. But they didn't need to be.

A pressure settled over Destiny—not crushing, not even physical, but undeniable. A reminder. One more reminder of how far beneath this woman she truly was. No matter what she told herself… she had only lived because of her connection to the Goddess of Rot. That bitter truth lodged in her throat like a knife.

"You feel that?" Vari asked, her voice smooth.

Destiny blinked, her breath catching. Her anger had flared so suddenly, she hadn't noticed the twisting inside her—the sensation of threads loosening, of something deeper fraying at the edges.

"That feeling," Vari said softly, "is the concept of you Unraveling."

Destiny blinked. "I'm what?"

"All Jujisn go through it eventually," Vari replied. She sipped delicately from her chalice before continuing. "The Jujisn who caused the Realm Event? He's already there and now must phase into the next part. Rhan's?—their halfway, but still needs to conquer what lies beneath their surface. And Kaoru? His Unraveled and Ascended just before you arrived in Requiem."

Vari's golden gaze flicked upward, her smile razor-sharp. "The others… they're still far off. Some still dreaming. But then there's mine."

She looked at Destiny fully now.

"The one trying to do so much… with everything at once."

Destiny's breath caught in her throat. Her anger threatened to return, to rise and consume her again—but Vari raised a single finger. Not a threat. A gesture of pause.

"I'm here to help you," she said calmly. "But if you'd rather not talk, that's fine too. Just know… you asked me a question. And in courtesy of who you are, I'll answer it."

Vari leaned forward just slightly, eyes gleaming like molten sunfire.

"But as a being who is rarely questioned, I must ask in return: Who are you, Destiny?"

Destiny froze.

"What?" she said quietly.

Vari sat back, folding one leg over the other. "Take a seat. And think about it."

Destiny sat.

The silence was thick. Not cold. Not cruel. Just… numb. Hollow.

Who was she?

A good question. One she hadn't needed to ask for an entire year. She was Destiny. The Outlander. Vari's Jujisn and Chosen. Strong. Feared. Respected.

But now… she wasn't sure.

She obviously wasn't Vari. Vari survived. Vari flourished. Vari watched galaxies die and drank wine like the universe was a cabaret.

Destiny would have died—had almost died—more than once. And deep down, she knew it.

Tears welled in her eyes.

She didn't wipe them away.

She just stared at the floor, the weight of the question echoing louder than any answer she could give.

Vari stood and began to wander the room.

Silken curtains clashed with streetwear posters. Swords leaned beside a bookshelf packed with romance novels, while strange glowing crystals sat atop a dresser littered with half-finished sketches and nail polish bottles. The lighting of signs flickered between a calming golden hue and harsh neon reds depending on which direction you turned your head. A punching bag hung in one corner, while a collection of plush animals crowded the other.

Vari didn't say a word for a while. She just walked, eyes tracing it all.

"A warrior's sanctuary," she finally murmured, "a princess's haven… a scholar's den, a rebel's retreat, a child's hideaway." Her golden gaze drifted back toward Destiny. "You do love spinning plates."

Destiny blinked, confused. "What?"

Vari sighed, and her steps stilled. "Let me try this a different way. Tell me your fighting style."

Destiny scoffed faintly. "Don't you already know?"

"Tell me anyway," Vari said with a pointed look. "Stop being an asshole."

That got a smirk from Destiny. She leaned back on the couch, arms crossed.

"My style is… well, anything I need it to be," she admitted. "I never stuck with one. My Ryun lets me shape and form whatever. Swords. Cannons. Shields. Spikes. Whatever gets the job done."

She paused, then lowered her eyes a bit.

"I don't have one," she said finally. Her voice was quieter now. She sounded… younger. She'd just realized she was saying it aloud for the first time.

Vari nodded slowly, her snakes humming a low, pleasant frequency as if in approval. She went to continue but Destiny interrupted her.

"You said a question," Destiny reminded her.

"Same question," Vari said, smile returning. "Just… multi-parted."

"Cheater," Destiny muttered, grinning despite herself.

Vari's lips curled. "I do as I please."

Her voice took on a lighter, almost musical tone as she turned to face Destiny. "Now, drifting back to your earlier question… do you truly care that the natives hate us?"

Destiny stiffened. That word again—us. Vari spoke like they were still the same. Yet she didn't feel that way. Or did she…

"We're hated by everyone."

"No, no." Vari wagged a delicate finger, the golden rings on her hand catching the warm glow of the floating star-lamps. "Those who matter do not. Only those beneath consequence hate us. Which is fair."

Destiny frowned, thinking. It wasn't about the world hating them. Not really. It was that moment—when that void creature screamed at her. That fury, that grief, directed solely at her like she'd stolen something. That stuck with her. But if she'd been strong enough to win, to crush that hatred… would she have cared?

Maybe not.

She remembered, vaguely, Vari telling her long ago that she was reviled throughout the realms. A being of fear, of disdain. That hadn't changed. The only thing that had changed was Destiny's position. The closer she got to power, the more she had to wonder—was I always this selfish?

"I don't think I'm strong enough to answer that question right now," she said softly.

Vari's eyes widened.

Then she smiled.

It wasn't pitying. It wasn't mocking.

It was proud.

Wonderful.

Vari smiled.

"You asked who I am," she said. Her bare feet made no sound as she stepped across the room, the hem of her robe trailing like spilled ink across marble. "If my legacy wasn't clear enough… I'll endow you with my own words."

She raised her hand to the books on the shelf—spines from countless worlds—and they cracked and curled at her touch, wilting like flowers in poison.

"I am," she began, voice smooth yet sharp as a knife.

"She who does not kill you.

I let you forget what you were."

She ran her fingers across Destiny's mirror. Her reflection did not show.

"I was crowned by silence, not by hand.

Not born to rule—I bled the land."

Her stride took her past the window. Destiny could see the eternal sky behind her, stars bending around her frame like they knew their place.

"While others begged stars to shine,

I plucked them down. Made them mine."

She twirled once, silver-white hair swirling behind her, then pointed skyward.

"My throne is velvet woven from screams,

My palace floats through gilded dreams."

Her arms stretched wide as if welcoming the cosmos—and the cosmos actually shuddered.

"Forty-eight gods, in chains below—

Each one begged for a mercy they'll never know."

She turned to Destiny now, eyes glittering like molten topaz.

"I am Sovereign.

I am sin made divine.

In my veins, your tomorrows unwind."

She strolled past Destiny again, a hand trailing her shoulder. The moment she passed, Destiny felt her heart skip.

"My venom slips through dynasty breath—

Unnoticed, until it mothers death."

Vari knelt by a vase of luminous roses and whispered.

"I do not rage. I do not chase.

I wait.

And in the waiting, erase."

She crushed one of the flowers in her palm. Its glow snuffed out.

"I wear gold like others wear shame.

It softens me. It frames the blame."

She walked slowly to the window again, lifting her arms like she held a court of souls.

"My touch is rare. My kiss is doom.

My scent is lineage turned to tomb."

Her snakes whispered now, echoing her rhythm.

"Time fears me. It dares not speak.

Its grandest plans collapse, go weak."

Vari spun, one finger aimed at Destiny's chest like a fang.

"Tell your gods they've had their chance—

I poison prayers through elegance."

She approached slowly now, steps like slow drumbeats. She paused right before Destiny.

"I am Eternal.

I am the gold in the wound.

I am perfume in the crypt.

The lull before ruin.

I rot not just flesh, but memory's core.

You'll forget you fought.

You'll forget you swore."

She stood tall, hands behind her back like a queen addressing a kneeling court.

"My beauty is not mercy.

It is a Rule.

Enforced by Law.

And it sees through every flaw."

A single golden teardrop of venom slid down her cheek, evaporating before it hit the floor.

"So lie at my feet, and pray to remain,

One breath away from eternal stain."

She finally sat back on the chaise, legs crossed, chalice refilled without ever touching it.

"You call me queen…

But I am the end of the story you dreamed."

Her voice softened, nearly a whisper—but the weight of galaxies sat behind it.

"I am Vari."

Destiny just stared at her.

That was… random. Dramatic as hell too. But it was also Vari, through and through—and in some parts, disturbingly, herself. She wasn't that confident in who she was, not yet. But that could change. That needed to change. And maybe, just maybe, this whole theatrical monologue had helped.

Vari caught the look on her face.

"You really mean to help me?" Destiny asked. "Why?"

"Why else?" Vari replied with a faint shrug, swirling her wine. "I'm curious to see you ascend. And in your climb, I may even benefit. Unlike the others, I see no reason to treat you like an experiment or fuel. I'm simply wondering what we could become if given the chance you have now."

Destiny raised an eyebrow.

Vari chuckled. "You can call it earned plot armor. For your rank and skill level, you are… surprisingly hard to kill. Hence why that warrior couldn't finish you off with enhanced Sryun. That was because of me, your body is insanely durable. But your will to live? That was all you."

Destiny exhaled. "So you'll help… but you won't guide me."

Vari nodded slowly.

Destiny managed a smile. There was still a chance to redeem herself. A path forward, if she centered herself and stopped spinning in every direction at once. She took a breath—deep and real—and let it sit in her chest.

"Thanks. For… whatever this was."

Vari tilted her head. "Sometimes all you need is a reality check from yourself."

She set her wine down and added, "But don't mistake this for a rescue. You and the other Jujisns? You can still die. And you probably will if you don't find your center. Quickly."

Destiny nodded. She wanted to say more—but didn't. This was enough. She'd failed. But failure only made the next win hit harder. She'd learn more about Vari in time. First, she had to become someone equally worth learning about. She had to confidently say who she was.

Her body began to shimmer.

Vari raised her chalice. "Looks like it's time. Have fun… and try not to embarrass us."

And just like that, Destiny vanished—called back to the Curtenail region.

Vari leaned back on the chaise, snakes humming a low tune. The entertainment value of all this was unmatched. Her and Destiny… they might walk very different paths after all. She smirked to herself. Let that fool rush in, hiding behind their folklore. A few more moves needed making. A few future events had to settle. Until then, she would do what she did best.

Wait—

and erase.