You Already Won

The knight's steps were iron-anchored, his eyes locked on North like watching a storm roll in. But North? North looked relaxed. Not careless—just done playing fair.

He landed softly on the cracked land, boots pressing down into the ash-laced rubble. The air between them pulsed. Red and black lightning bled from his fingertips like ink running upstream, crawling along his arms, dancing over his shoulders.

Targith didn't speak. His blade was enough.

North smiled.

The knight lunged.

North shot into the air with a low hum of displaced pressure, arcs of energy coiling behind him. Even now, as the battle around them churned in chaos, his mind stayed clear. He could feel the difference—Caroline's influence, Sšurtinaui's presence had trailed off toward Tinsurnae, and that new guy's absurd burst of pressure had shaken the whole battlefield.

The lack of reinforcements confirmed what he already suspected. His team won.

Targith's greatsword hummed. He brought it down in a cleaving arc meant to split North in two. North let it pass under him like a gust of wind, landing behind the knight with a flicker of afterimage.

"This where you usually monologue?" he asked.

Targith didn't answer. Instead, he spun with perfect footwork, driving a shoulder into North's ribs and swinging up with the back of his blade. North twisted, let the strike scrape across a Ryun-coated guard, then caught the edge with both hands.

"You know," North said, "I never even got your name."

Targith brought down the glowing broad sword without a word. North kicked him back and exhaled sharply. His first instinct was to talk this man down. His second was to kill him. Probably how Jafar handled things too, once upon a time—choosing violence until he became a king. But North wasn't Jafar. He'd pick a third path.

Dominance.

Not cruelty. Not mercy. Just an unshakable force of presence. A balance between what he once was and what he was becoming.

He pulled his hood back. The Ryun-charged air whipped around him, tugging at his long black hair. His crimson eyes glowed, and the cloak still wrapped around him gave him the look of a Sith Lord. Not exactly the most team-friendly outfit, but it worked.

"So, since we both know how this ends—"

"How does this end?" Targith interrupted calmly.

"Oh? So you can talk. Good, I—"

"I have nothing more to say to you, demon."

North blinked. "I'm not a demon."

Targith shrugged like that didn't matter.

"Not even gonna—"

"It doesn't matter," the knight cut in, gaze steeled and unwavering. "This is Requiem. You either survive… or you don't. The event said you'll destroy everything. Unravel it all."

"To be fair, I don't intend to do that."

"I can't take your word. I have a wife. Two little girls. A family—again."

That gave North pause. Again. So this man had lost his first one. Typical Requiem. North didn't need a backstory to understand—he could feel it radiating off Targith like smoke from a smothered fire. A man reforged by loss. He shook his head. He had tried. He really had.

They both took stances.

"You know that sword you wield—"

"A blade that came with me," Targith replied. "And one that will be buried with me."

"Wow. Anyway," North smiled and raised his hand, "you don't know its true name."

Targith squinted. "What?"

"Come, Ordeal."

The words slipped from North's lips like a whisper. A command, not to the man—but to the sword.

Targith's grip didn't falter… in fact nothing happened. Was that a blu—

CRAM!

North crashed into him, grabbing the knight's armor and slamming his forehead into Targith's helm—once, twice, again and again—each headbutt pulsing with black and red lightning. Ryun energy cracked the air with every impact. Targith stumbled back under the assault, barely able to register what had just happened.

CRAM.

The front plate of Targith's chest armor cracked—just a hairline split.

CRAM.

The crack widened. Ryun energy flared between the plates as if the metal itself was trying to hold together through sheer will.

CRAM.

Fragments burst free, blackened shards spinning through the air like shattered bone. The impact rang out across the battlefield like a war drum being beaten by a madman.

"Give up yet?!" North growled through gritted teeth.

CRAM.

Targith's helmet dented inward.

CRAM.

The faceplate twisted.

CRAM.

Steel gave way to flesh. Targith's head jerked violently as North drove his forehead into his face—no more protection, just skin, blood, and raw fury.

A burst of blue Ryun exploded from Targith in a final, desperate counter. It seared the air around them, warping light itself. But North didn't let go.

He dug his fingers into the ruined chestplate, forcing it open like he was peeling back a shell. Targith roared, but the sound was muffled—choked by blood and rage.

This man would fight to the end.

So North gave him what he wanted.

Another headbutt. Another. Another.

The ground beneath them cratered deeper and deeper with every strike. Stone crumbled. Dirt buckled. The crater turned into a pit. North kept going.

——

Newsaw's body floated among the wreckage, suspended with the rest of the Black Hawks who had tried to back him. They weren't dead. Not yet. But none of them could move. Whatever Jack had done—something to do with time and some kind of poisoned energy—it left their bodies twisted, paralyzed, and hovering in stillness.

A shame, Newsaw thought, his consciousness fraying. His limbs convulsed with phantom pain—so overwhelming, it numbed him completely. No agony. Just the bitter taste of failure and the slow, sinking sadness that this would be the Black Hawks' legacy: a desperate final mission to save the world, ending in silence.

And then he popped.

Like a balloon.

One of the last members still clinging to life on the battlefield was gone. Only two ships remained now… no, just one. One had been betrayed from the inside.

Jack was sitting cross-legged on top of the final ship, swinging his legs like a bored kid on a jungle gym. Before Magjesti took out the other ship, he'd already cleaned house—killed everyone aboard, quickly, without any showmanship this time.

Just cleanup.

Afterwards, he'd raided the lockers and picked out something with a little flair. Now, dressed in their black-and-gray colors, Jack smiled.

He was a Black Hawk now too.

"You don't need this ship, right?" Jack yelled over to her ship, already cracking his knuckles.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Caroline didn't even glance up from the command room. She was too busy dragging new coordinates across her UI, expanding her radar sweep outward. North was somewhere out there, and now that she had full control of the system, she was going to find him.

"Naw," she said offhandedly. "You can trash it—"

KA-BOOOOOOM.

She grinned. "That was fast."

He reappeared at her side, practically dancing into her peripheral, leaning in with that same manic smile like he was waiting for applause. She didn't bite.

She sighed, side-eying him with a crooked grin. "Be a good boy and go look for North, will you?"

"Damn," Jack said, clutching his chest. "Didn't even check to see if I'm okay. Cold."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I—"

"Great," she cut him off, eyes flicking back to her screen. "Don't forget this was all to help my friend. And yes," she added, feigning a yawn, "I saw how badass you were out there. Bravo. Truly."

"Ahh you did. Glad to get some recognition." He chuckled.

"I could've done better," she added with a smirk.

Jack snorted. "You wish." He pointed at her and laughed, spinning on his heel.

Caroline smiled.

Easy.

—

"My team will end your disaster," Targith growled.

North sighed, rubbing his temple. "Dude, I have a headache and you can still talk? Jesus."

Targith laughed—wet, cracked, full of blood. He stumbled as he rose, his armor shattered and hanging off him in fractured plates. His face was swollen, unrecognizable beneath the bruises.

He spat on the ground, channeling Ryun into his fists. "I'm sorry, Zotocia. Deliena. Daddy couldn't keep his promise." His voice wavered. "But!" His aura flared defiantly, wild and burning. "I'll die fighting a good fight."

North said nothing, watching.

"And for my daughter… back on Earth… Rebecca. Maybe I'll be able to see you again."

North looked at him and gave a small, bittersweet smile. "You got everything out?"

Targith steadied his stance. He stared into North's red eyes. That posture. That presence. This wasn't just some upstart monster. This was a killer of lords. A breaker of rulers. A being that extinguished leaders.

"You said your team would end this?" North asked, voice low, smile widening. "I wouldn't bet against my team so easily."

Targith roared and charged.

North lifted his hand. A red mist crackled outward, space distorting around him.

Then he moved.

A fast-spinning ring of red-black lightning burst into existence behind him and launched outward. The moment it hit, it coiled around Targith's torso like a hungry serpent.

It tightened in a blink, and the edges spun like saw teeth against Targith's ruined armor—until the first snap came, and then another. Metal tore from bone. Lightning hissed as crimson-black arcs licked through the exposed flesh beneath. The ring pulsed once more, then exploded inward with a flash that sent shockwaves through the crater.

Targith's body didn't burst all at once.

It buckled. Bones cracked. A spurt of red from his mouth, then another as his chest caved in unnaturally. One shoulder separated entirely. Then his left leg detonated at the thigh. And finally, with a dull, final crack that echoed like a tomb being sealed—

He came apart.

Ash, embers, and broken steel fluttered where he once stood. North stared down, breathing steadily.

And in his mind—

Three visions.

Three different men.

All leaders. All warriors. All convinced they were fighting for something pure.

Each one, in their final moment, had that same look. That same final swing.

Same end. Him.

He sighed through his nose and shook his head. "You were strong," he muttered. "But that strength came from your team. That's what made you dangerous."

He glanced around the broken field, and for a moment—just one—felt the weight of all of it. He still didn't have his full power back. Still hadn't reclaimed his blood. He was fighting without the full truth of himself, relying on Ryun and lightning and grit.

He gave a small nod to the ashes.

"You fought well, man. And you helped me realize a few things. So thanks. I wish you'd listened when I said I'm not trying to destroy the world."

He turned.

WHOOOM.

A shockwave blasted down into the crater.

A figure landed hard in the broken stone.

North's eyes narrowed as dust billowed up.

A boy. Wearing the Black Hawks attire.

Young, eyes burning with a reckless challenge.

He said nothing.

Just stared at North.

North exhaled once. "You're kidding me."

"What?" Jack blinked, stepping forward.

"You wanna fight too?"

"I didn't even say that," Jack replied flatly. "I was helping Magjesti find you, dumbass."

"Watch your mouth, kid."

"You started it with—"

"Watch. Your. Mouth," North repeated, eyes narrowing.

"I'll fuck you up. The only reason you're alive is 'cause I helped."

"I was fine," North said, shrugging. "But I appreciate the support."

"Support!?" Jack's jaw clenched. He couldn't believe how arrogant this guy was. "You should be thanking me!"

"Where is—"

"Don't ignore me, bro!" Jack snapped, stepping in front of him. "Me and Mag are cool, but I will fuck you up. Teach you som—"

"Come do it."

Jack paused.

"…What?"

"I said come do it."

"You sure? You saw what I—"

"I don't care." North's voice was quiet now. Dangerous. "Come. Do it."

The air between them cracked like something was about to snap.

A ship tore through the skyline and hovered above them, its engines glowing with stabilized Ryun.

"North! Glad you're okay." Caroline's voice echoed from the ship's comms. "North, meet Jack. See, Jack, he's a person, not the top of a compass."

"Oh, you're stupid," North muttered.

"You've got one more insult, buddy."

"Or what, "pal"?" North snorted.

Caroline, watching from the commander's seat, shook her head. She figured this might happen.

"Hey, don't forget—we gotta help—"

"One second, Mag," Jack cut her off.

"Don't cut her off like that," North said, eyebrow raised. "Who the hell are you?"

"The guy who saved you."

"Oh, you're part of the team now?"

Jack scoffed. "If anything, I'm taking over this operation or whatever. Considering how much work I did."

"Nah." North folded his arms. "I don't know who's on your team, but it ain't mine."

"You're such a child!" Jack snapped.

"Uh huh… Let's cut to the chase. You wanna be the MC or whatever?" North tilted his head. "Get in line—"

"Yeah, I'ma punch you in ya face."

Jack lunged. Fusing together time, the concept of fear and defeat, plus all the Black Hawks attacks.

Caroline cursed from the ship.

North sighed. A red mist crackled outwards, distorting space. Jack's strike veered off course, bent by the magnetized black lightning that danced in the air.

Jack swung again.

Missed.

And again.

Missed.

He jumped back, fuming, and created a massive blade—combining Haruki Limit Breaker with Newsaw's ability, layered with other modifiers. The blade shimmered with unstable power.

None of it mattered.

North appeared in front of him and threw a single punch. One filled with intent.

To North, Jack was nothing but a mirror.

And why would anyone fear a mirror that could—

Crack.

His fist stopped just short of Jack's face.

Sweat traced lines down Jack's cheek and chest.

What the hell was that…? he thought.

North smiled and floated toward the ship.

"Once you're done sulking, come on up, kid."

A spiral beam of translucent Ryun surged down from the ship's underbelly—like liquid lightning spun into a vortex. It wrapped around North, lifting him effortlessly, the air around him warping in pulses as his cloak snapped like a banner in a still wind.

Then—flash.

He vanished.

Inside the ship, North rematerialized in a quiet hum, his boots clinking against the scorched metal floor. The air was still. Thin trails of smoke curled up from the vents, and Ryun static hissed from half-fried terminals. His cloak shifted behind him, still fizzling with residual red-black energy. He took a breath, deeper than he expected.

Relief.

They won. Somehow, they won.

The insides of the ship were wrecked—scorch marks on the walls, a half-melted doorframe hanging crooked—but they had made it. They survived the ambush. Jack's chaos, Caroline's ship takeover, his own clash with the knight—against all odds, it worked.

More would come.

They always did.

But this wasn't just survival. It was an example. One the whole world would remember.

He walked into the command room.

"Who's my favorite woman?"

"Is it me?" Caroline giggled.

"No, it's the elf—but I see she's not—" he ducked a fireball.

"Asshole. I actually did really good."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks. They were on my ass out there."

"Sure were."

"I have a new respect for video game bosses. That was not easy."

"Who was the knight?"

"Hell if I know. He never said his name."

"That's a shame."

"Not really. Can't always spend time honoring the dead. He made his choice. Simple."

"Ooh, look at you. Just last week it was—" she mocked his voice, "'I don't know if I can kill people.'"

"Yeah, well, that was then and this is now. Anyway—where's my second favorite girl?"

"Wow! Wow! Tinny over me?!" Caroline laughed. "She's still fighting I guess. Their battle must've moved while we were all fighting."

North leaned against the console. "What about Jack?"

She shrugged, casually. "He's support. If the group wants him gone—then he's gone."

North chuckled. "Heartless."

"Practical," Caroline smirked. "We were the same way with you."

"Oh, don't go acting like this is your story."

"It's not? Swore you were my side character."

"I was here first."

"False—I was here first. Years, at that."

He opened his mouth to respond—

"Don't pull that Jafar song and dance. You just got here, Extra 99."

They both laughed.

North rolled his shoulders. "Can we find the elf and Tinsurnae now?"

"Why you asking me?" Caroline chuckled, turning back to the console. "You should have some Juji-whatever connection or something."

"Huh. You're right. Imma try that."

"Duh, I'm a genius."

"This win really got you being cocky."

"Hmp." She flipped her hair and tapped on the interface. "Go do your Ryun GPS thing."

Looking out the window she saw Jack was still on the ground, arms crossed, sitting there looking dumb, muttering to himself about "idiots with cool capes."

Back on the ship, North stood near the back of the room, eyes closed, trying to concentrate. He'd never tried this before but the idea made sense. He focused on his Ryun threads, on the subtle vibrations they carried. Trying to trace the strands of those connected to him. Caroline leaned over her console, side-eyeing him.

"You trying to find them?"

North didn't respond.

She threw out a half-suggestion, "Maybe try summoning them like in Berserker's Vow 2?"

He cracked an eye. "That a manga?"

"Or maybe, like, chant their name like in Bladed Hearts—"

"Caroline."

"What?"

"Shhh."

He centered himself again, shutting everything out. Focused on his pulse. On the storm in his chest. On the people he'd fought beside.

Then—there.

Two signals. Faint but pulsing with effort. Sšurtinaui and Tinsurnae. They were deep in combat… locked against a swirling blue presence. North's eyes opened slowly, red irises glowing.

"I found them."

Caroline spun to look at him. "Where?"

He pointed. Her map lit up. "How the hell did their fight take them that far?" Her eyes widened. "Goddamn."

She activated the comms. "Jack, come on, loser. We gotta go help my other friends."

Jack blinked up at the ship. "There's more?!"

She laughed. "For all these 'powerful beings,' they sure get their asses kicked a lot—OK, OK, ow-ow—come on. Teleport in. We gotta fight the Calmbrand."

"Who's that?"

"Blue-hair sword guy."

Jack was in the ship so fast Caroline actually flinched.

North and Jack locked eyes.

Jack cracked his knuckles. "I want that pretty boy to myself. Don't stop me when the screaming starts."

North blinked. "Whoa there. I'm not gonna tell you who to love, but make sure it's consensual."

"What—no—I don't—"

"No judgment, man. Do what makes you happy."

"I wanna kill him!"

"If that makes you happy."

The ship lunged forward, North closed his eyes again, breathing slow. These moments—this calm before chaos—were rare. He used it to center himself.

Caroline maxed out the throttle. The storm ahead grew clearer: two wild waves of green Ryun hammering against a hurricane of sharp-edged blue.

Holding their own, but barely.

And Jack?

Jack smiled like the happiest man alive.

Finally. He was in the right place.

Time to slaughter that stupid blue bastard.