Hey, AWIRT. It's been awhile, hasn't it? It's also been about a year since I first published this, and I've made it to the eleventh chapter. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but anyways, HAPPY 2013! Oh, and heads up, this chapter is going to be a bit different.

So, without further ado…

To God be the Glory

Onettsons

Chapter 11: In Need of Legend

Up, up, up the side of mountain they went. They weren't exactly sure where they were going; all they really knew it was up. So that was where they were focusing on going: up, by whatever path they could find and take. Path such as these, unfortunately, were none too common. So going up was a time-consuming drag. But if what they had witnessed were signs that worse things were to come, then all of the work required to scale the mountain was worth it. No, more than worth it, though some might disagree.

Their trek they had started hours ago, and if any of them could do math they would know they were ¾ of the way to the top of the mountain. Despite being mostly done, they were starting to slow down, and something other than the fatigue of climbing was causing it. Something that, in all of their separate careers, they were taught never to admit to.

Fear.

Fear meant a lack, a lack meant inadequacy, inadequacy meant weakness, weakness meant inability, and inability meant uselessness. Useless, good-for-nothing, lowdown, unneeded, unwanted, might-as-well-be-dead. Fear. Fear was the root of it all, but it could also be mistaken for timidity. But the line between these two things had long been blurred and forgotten for them and their people.

And just who were their people? Well, you might have already have figured this out, but their people were the Onettsons. And just who were they, climbing up the mountain? Glad you might've asked. They were the leaders of the Thirteen Teams of Onett, and therefore the Boys' Town itself. They had risen to the top of the aggressive arena food chain by being smarter and tougher than the rest. But most of all, they showed no fear. Yet now every one of them was perilously close to revealing their concealed dread.

Normally, not one the group could even look at another without breaking out into argument, if not worse. But they were all united (temporarily) because they and their teams shared a common threat, which was none other than the team that wasn't among them: Dominter. The Dominter had always been a problem, but never like what they had become recently. For ages they had been an undefeatable monster lurking in the Arena, thoroughly beating everyone who dared challenge it. But weeks ago the monster had burst forth from the confines of the fighting ring wreaking havoc on the rest of the city without provocation. And who to influence the monster to such action then its newest member, who apparently had also become its leader. This had not happened in Dominter history since the team was assembled countless decades back, due to the snobbish attitude of every member. Indeed, if a true leader had now come to the team, then something big was bound to happen soon.

Commotion spread through the group as an actual pathway up the mountain had been found. This was a relief, as they bore countless blisters from climbing, hanging, and leaping from rock-outcrop to rock-outcrop. They clambered their own way to the path, not waiting for anyone else. In truth, they all would've rather come up to their destination separately, and not in the company of their lifetime rivals. And what company it was, as no one had spoken more than one word to anyone since their upwards trek began.

This trend, however, was about to be broken. There was a question that was lingering in everyone's mind, but no one asked for fear of a social blunder. But social problems didn't stop some people. "WHERE exactly are we going!?" the speaker said putting as much emphasis on the 'where' as he could to make the others sound like the idiots, not him.

Everyone there was all too eager to turn a judgmental glare on him, even if they were wondering the same question themselves. The captain of the Tigret Team asked, "And just what team do you lead, might I ask?"

"You may ask," the asker retorted with a mock bow. "I am the leader of the Juntar Team. I guess you can't see well, 'cause the blue should'a tipped you off!"

"Doesn't matter, 'cause my guy beat both your guys without a break the other day! Beat THAT!" This extremely off topic comment came from the KnKights Team (pronounced 'night') leader. Of course, they could have been talking about Swiss cheese before this was said, because it wouldn't have changed the outcome. Instantly cries echoing the same statement, 'I and my team are better than you and your team', filled the mountain air.

Ten mouths raged at all others, while only three stood on the sidelines, engaging in the verbal (and not-so-verbal) confrontation with just their thoughts. One of these three turned his thoughts away from the conflict and back to their actual mission. He looked upward, and with his PK-heightened vision espied a thick, almost reflective haze. "There's the Rim."

"Yeah, so let's get these idiots to keep quiet and get up there." An answer had not been expected, so the looker was a tad startled. He was also startled by how much he had to look up to make eye-contact with the person who answered him. This person was none other than the Giant, the rarely-seen and enigmatic leader of the Tricon Team. While most Onettsons' bodies stopped growing around age 12, the Giant's had stopped growing at 17. When he had first come to Onett, the Dominter had tried fiercely to recruit him, but he had refused. He was a legend in the Boys' Town, with some even going as far to say he had once defeated a Dominter.

The Giant walked over to the ongoing fray, but did not enter. Normally when he walked up to a group, he was immediately the center of attention, but now he would have to apply a different attention-getting tactic: shouting really, really loud.

"LISTEN UP!"

All Onettsons could use what they called Super-Shout. But by having five more years' worth of lung capacity, the Giant's shout was without equal. The bickering stopped, and seven out of ten gave the Tricon Leader their eyes. The other three went back to their heated debate (about who among them was the oldest nonetheless); until they realized that everyone was staring at them, waiting for to hush up. They reluctantly did. "Hey, we don't have to-" one of them started, but stopped when he noticed the 6 footer gesturing up the mountain. They then remembered the actual reason for them being on this rock path in the first place.

The Giant started to sprint up ahead, which caused his on-edge rivals to pick up the pace as well. Soon they were all racing to their destination, but then someone started to wonder…

"WHERE are we going again!?"

…

No high-altitude, low-oxygen rock formation had ever looked sweeter than the top of the Mountain to the Onett leaders. All of them had the mind to drop right then and there, but none did as all feared what that might reflect on them.

But then something else entered everyone's mind; that same irritating question that had been asked twice on the way up. Where to from here? They had come seeking a legend to help them, a legend said to live at the top of the Mountain. But where on the top of the mountain? And if they found him, then what? Would he listen to them? Or would he be more of a beast than a boy? The dreaded touch of fear found its way back into their hearts, causing them to look around in worry.

Then they became composed. They had a mission to do, and they were going to do it. Or at the very least try as hard as they could. "Let's get going!" And soon the Onettsons were clambering and running along the volcano-like opening…in different directions. Six of the thirteen were making their way around one way, while the other seven ran the other way.

"HEY!" both sides shouted at the other.

"WE'RE GOING THIS WAY!" the seven shouted.

"'THINK YOU'RE MISTAKEN IDIOTS!" the six shot back. "WE'RE GOING THIS WAY!"

"PROVE IT!" And so they did. The six continued running, but this time with extra vigor. The other side could not be outmatched, so they immediately started running their direction as well. And soon enough both sides were out of sight of each other, pushed forward not by a desire to complete their task, but to defeat the others supposed to complete it with them.

…

"Am I useless? Is there anything I have accomplished in my 'Great Mission'?"

You are not useless. Yet it seems you are in pursuit of being so.

"I am not pursuing it! *powerful shudder goes through body* It-I-there is nothing to do. At the moment."

There is always a task at hand. But it must be sought out.

"How often have I sought such a thing out!? And how often have I come away, my efforts fruitless?"

Often.

"Then why must I go seek it out?"

There is always a task at hand.

"You are wrong. Not always. There is naught to do now."

*shudder* you have lain and reaped your own deceit…*shudder*

"Why is it impossible that I have done all that I can?"

Because you have accepted me.

"THEN WHY CAN I NOT BE RID OF YOU!?"

No response. He already knew the answer anyway.

"What must I do?" But instead, he answered his own question. "Hunt them. Go after them. They are all coming from somewhere; they must have a base. Find it and destroy it. That is what I must do."

But then another urgent thought presented itself. "And Onett…?"

He could not leave the Boys' Town unprotected. But to truly protect it he must track them down. He could not do both. He had to do one. Stay or leave. He had to choose.

…

The group of seven was running at a moderate pace, keeping their eyes peeled for anything that might be an indicator for where to find the legend they sought. They felt silly, searching for something that had dropped into myth for years, not to mention putting so much dependence on it. But if any they wished to take down the Dominter, they would need help of legendary magnitude.

"I can't believe we're doing this," came the cynical voice of the Juntar leader. If it was attention he wanted, he soon was rich with it. He continued, "Here we are, a bunch of Onett leaders running on the top of the Mountain trying to find some sort of monster to help us deal with one Dumbinter!"

"It's not a monster!" objected the Knknights commander, "It's just – just – some dude with a different power!"

"That power-" injected the Giant-

"I know what it is!" Knknights interrupted.

"-is Singe," the Tricon leader finished. "And Singe is more than just 'some power'. If an Onettson uses Singe-based powers enough, they gain the ability to use real Singe powers, but can no longer use PK Powers."

"And then they become different," said the Zask team leader thoughtfully (and superiorly), "they start drifting away from other Onettsons, stop going to the Arena, and only hang out with other Singe-people."

"Yeah, except all the Singe Masters are dead," the Giant took up the lesson again. "But that's where the legend comes in."

"Duh, duh, duh! Just 'cause some weirdo comes and burns 'The Singe Master' on the Arena wall doesn't mean that there are still some alive!" Juntar disagreed.

Zask exploited, "It's not like the Singe-guys are a race or anything. Someone just needs to learn Singe and voila! A new Singe-guy!"

One of them had heard enough. "Stop gabbing and look around for the person, or thing, or whatever! After all, don't they like to be-!" The speaker was suddenly interrupted when he took a misstep and tripped. That forbidden feeling of fear filled fast (alliteration!) his heart, as he was dangerously close to the edge. But there was no long fall that ended in doom for him, just a short fall that ended flat on his face…and with people laughing at him.

"Where'd you learn to walk?" Taunted as such, he quickly and clumsily came to his feet. Choosing, and wisely so, to remain silent and only communicate with his eyes, the tripped-up turned to what had caused his stumble. It was, in fact, a very thin, odd-looking rock that stuck a few feet into the air. It was very peculiar

"What is this…!" the speaker was startled when he felt warmed metal rather than course stone upon touching the thing.

"What's wrong with you? You retarded or something?" Zask asked. No answer. "Yup. He's retarded or something."

The speaker, still keeping quiet, took a step back and filled his lungs with air. Aided by absolutely nothing but super powers, the boy blew out a powerful gust onto the object that tripped him.

"What's wrong you – Oh…" came from somewhere in the audience. The object, now free of its earthen dust coating, was now revealed to be, in fact, the top of what looked to be a flag pole protruding straight out of the rock.

The Giant stepped forward. No one hindered him, of course. He asked, "What on Earth is a flag pole doing here!? And for that matter, where's its flag?" That question was unnecessary, however, for at that moment he saw a black thread tied just under the pole's head. A strand of it winded down to the mountain floor where it entered a thin crevice. Seizing the thread between his large thumb and index finger, the Giant pulled out…wait for it…A FLAG. Instantly recognizing its relationship with the pole, the Onettson kneeled down and put it back into the position it once kept, while the original tripper pulled out the other two corners to see the image the flag held.

Upon seeing the image, the entire conglomeration of Onett leaders froze. What they saw before them said a lot about many of their assumptions. "No way…" the Tricon leader mouthed.

The Juntar leader leaned forward to the Giant and whispered, "What was that you were saying about the Singe Masters? Ya know, with being dead and all?"

…

The group of six…well, it used to be a group of six. Now it was a group of two, one, one, one, and 1.5 (one of the groups of one was sort of in and out of that group). The group of two, despite being acclaimed bitter rivals, had actually found that they had a lot in common; at the moment they were having a blast talking about the things they both shared a dislike of and to what extent they disliked it. Most of the others were in some form of brooding or another as they walked along, though the one and 1.5 were talking off-and-on about what they were looking for, how they would go about finding it, and what they would do when they found it, whatever it was.

A very merry group this would seem to any Onettson underling of theirs back down at home. It proved itself very merry by the fact that they weren't at each other's throats and some were actually getting along. This would have been simply riveting to that hypothetical Onettson underling. Very riveting, very merry, indeed.

It was at that moment (no, not THAT moment, the other one) that the one and 1.5 noticed that fireworks were bursting off in the distance. Neither of them had ever seen fireworks in their life, so they came to the next logical conclusion: the colorful explosions off up in the air were from PK powers. That actually made more sense given the overall lack of fireworks on the Nowhere Islands. "That's probably the rest of the guys…" the 1.5 grumbled, angered that this probably meant they had found the legend before them. "At least they're all still wimps. The way their people fight for them! Why, I'd even go as FAR as to-"

He was kicked out of his self-glorifying train of thought when the one called, "HEY! Speed it up; we gotta get over there!" This got the attention of the remaining four who were previously unaware of the explosive signals.

"We don't need to knock ourselves out getting there! It's not like we have to be there right now!" retorted 1.5, not wanting to give their rivals more reason to brag over them by rushing to the beck and call.

"Tell that to your broken-down base after the Dumbinter are through with it." And with that, the one left him. The rest of the group paused, studied the fading explosions, studied the others, studied themselves, studied the one already leaving them, and then threw caution to the mountain wind and hurried after him.

The five never caught up to him, most likely because they lacked his enthusiasm, but they made it over quickly thanks to their being Onettsons. When they arrived, they were received with a heart-warming greeting: "'Bout time you dopes got here. We've been waiting here for like ten minutes, which is ten minutes more than we should've been."

"WOW! TEN MINUTES!? That means you can tell time! Congratulations!" responded the 1.5, eager to lift the fault off himself (and by extension, the other five that came with him).

The Giant knew this comment would start another bickering uproar, which he had had enough of. Stepping between to two warlords in one stride, he held his hands out in front of each of them. "This is all fine and dandy," he said in mock sweetness, "but get to the whole reason we came here and LOOK AT THE FLAG."

1.5 didn't care. "THE FLAG!? WHAT DO I CARE ABOUT A STUPID FLAG!? I THOUGHT WE WERE LOOKING FOR SOME CRAZY MAGICAL WARRIOR, NOT A CRAZY PIECE OF CLOTH!" He was absolutely enraged that the Giant had dared to come between him and his fight, even if he didn't plan on fighting it. And the tone of his voice when he spoke to him! Well, it was about time brought this hulking freak down to size! "Listen here, I don't care what's on the flag! I will…will…I…I…oh…"

The giant had stepped over and lifted the flag up so that 1.5 could see. What he saw quieted him down.

The flag was mostly jet black, with a green rectangle about an inch in covering the perimeter of the flag. The rectangle was made up of what looked to be green strands of light, then fire, then smoke. Inside the rectangle was a dark outline in dark green of one side of an Onettson's face, a face with unnatural ghostly eyes. The face held a hand out towards the on looking audience, almost as if it were trying to break the two dimensional bonds of the flag and reach out into the world. In its grasp was a whitish outline of what closely resembled the cityscape around the Arena, with the Arena itself in the center. The city was held within a green flame that rose upwards, lazy yet foreboding. And at the top of the fiery flickers was a single, smiling 'S', snake-like in the way it curved.

The Giant spoke up, "That 'S' can only mean one thing: Singe." And when he said that, fear crept back into their hearts.

"It is finished." (Jesus Christ, circa A.D. 30)

And finished it is. You might be tired of me saying this, (and POC I now understand why you do this ;)) but I am quite sorry for HOW LOOOOONNGGG this took me. Yes, I do have excuses: Christmas was hectic, school work picked up, and events overall became more frequent and time-consuming. However, I still could've gotten this out sooner if I had actually tried, and that is really why I'm sorry. In fact, this chapter was supposed to be twice as long, but due to how long I was taking, I decided to cut it in half. So yes, the next chapter will be a direct sequel to this.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked this new chapter along with its change of pace. A major plot changer is goin' to start next chapter, so get ready! I actually owe the idea for this chapter to Weedy Spyze's criticism, who noticed the story was getting repetitive and thought it was time for something new to happen. I believe by using this chapter the way I did, I have saved the story from getting long in the tooth and repetitive. However, I'd like to know if you thought it was such a success AWIRT.

On to the replies!

Weedy Spyze: I think the thing is that you were looking for a good Earthbound fanfiction, which is not what you're going to get here. This story is product of the stimulation of my imagination by what SSBB provided in the way of info on Earthbound. I am sorry that this story is probably not for you, so let's agree to disagree. However, if this new chapter had something that caught you're attention, I would like to hear about it. Thank you for the constructive criticism.

TheMysticalQ: Do some fights really seem like filler? I guess…but I only put in fight scenes when I believe they help the plot. But if they seem otherwise I would like to hear about it. Yes, we are finally getting to the part where Lucas's situation is going to be dealt with…well, at the beginning of it. What did'ja think of this chapter? Was it a smart move or too soon? Anyways, see you next time!

Roseal: It's great to see you enjoying Onettsons so much! Sorry, no fight scenes here, but giving them a break makes them more special, right? But what did you think of the verbal fights in this one, short as they may be? Glad to make your day and I hope this makes yours again!

PenFullofChaos819 (Chapter 9 Review): It's great to see you back again, and your humor is still cheesy and enjoyable as ever. I completely understand if you don't have enough time for this now, though. Final Fantasy VII, huh? Does Kelfka do anything like Ness's dream (never played the games, but I have hear a lot about Kelfka)? As clarification for the (intentionally) confusing scene, the first voices you see are those of Onettsons as they pass by Ness's unconscious body. The first voice in italics (as far as you know) is strictly something in Ness's dream, perhaps a more mischievous side of his subconscious. The second voice is Ness himself, who is currently talking to someone (the first voice) in a strange dream. At this point Ness is between being asleep and being awake. Moving on, it looks like my description of Ness's feelings in public and his wounds were pretty effective. And 'Link' was a fairly obvious reference to The Legend of Zelda, of which I am now a fan. His like of using melee attacks, relative youth, and relative kindness are all also references to the real Link as well. Thank you for the compliment about the fight scenes. Some of my knowledge in that area is from taking martial arts training; it's much easier to write about fighting when you've been trained in fighting. With Matt, since the reader had already met him, I wanted to base his fighting style off what was already known about him. Therefore I made it big, bad, and slightly cunning. Work hard at college and your job, and give a review whenever it's convenient for you! (Oh, and one last thing. Since you're so good with OCs, how were the ones in this chapter? I'd love to have your opinion!)

This is Nacartor of Cut Productions, signing off.