[Language warning, scenes of violence]

Magolor was heading back to the others as quickly as possible. Given how tense everyone was when Marx sent him away, there had probably been at least a few fights. I hope we have enough bandages... He did not put it past Marx to attack the old knight, but the Halcandran hoped that his friend would not do so unless it was necessary. Magolor briefly considered the idea that Marx might attempt to make peace but quickly dismissed it. The day Marx goes pacifist is the day the universe implodes. Settling differences usually fell to Taranza, given that both Marx and Magolor tended to be more rash. If anything went wrong, Taranza would fix it.

Clutching the newly marked map close, Magolor neared the soon-to-be-empty base before pausing to look out of a large window. Butter Buildings was very different from the more rural parts of Popstar he was used to staying in. This place was an actual city, complete with skyscrapers in the air and busy streets on the ground. Magolor was not too fond of sleeping in the dirt, but the stiff structures made him feel uneasy. Looking down on the city below, he saw a familiar purple figure silently watching the streets from the top of a shorter building right next the window.

"Hey! Marx! What are you doing?"

When he did not get a response, the Halcandran carefully launched himself through the window and hovered towards his companion. Given his inexperience, the landing was a bit shaky (more accurately, he landed on his face). Magolor quickly pulled himself together and pretended the blunder did not happen, sitting down next to Marx and following his gaze. Purple brick roads were dotted with small creatures going about their business. The Waddle Dees and Skarfies here were nothing like the ones that attacked them on sight in the forests.

A shoe nudged his side. "Different, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah," Magolor rolled with the conversation, knowing that the answer to his first question would come along eventually. "Nobody is killing each other, and no one sleeps in dirt."

That toothy grin made its first appearance. "Figures that you would like civilization."

"And you don't?" Magolor tried not to get miffed by that overconfident sneer. "I know you like hanging around the wilderness, but you study magic and history and pretty much everything else. If you weren't such a jerk with an enormous ego, I'd call you a genius. How are trees better than all this?"

The grin disappeared, and for once, Marx looked almost vulnerable. "Out in the wild, you only have to worry about yourself and living another day. It's too complicated and noisy here. Everything is a job. You have to be nice, watch out for people, and take baths."

"Oh, well," The Halcandran hesitated for a moment, "So... you don't want to be here in the city, or you don't want to... you know... me and Taranza-"

He sat up straighter, "That's not what I meant."

The silence was surprisingly tense between them. Magolor had completely lost track of what was happening to his life, and at this point, he did not know if any of it mattered. A strong breeze tried to blow back his hood, but he quickly caught it and held the fabric down. When he made eye contact with his friend again, Marx was intensely staring him down. It was not the glare he fixed on someone that was bothering him, nor was it the driven focus only a book could hold. This was something softer that Magolor had no name for.

The silence ended as he took a deep breath. "Mag, I talked to Galacta, and he's not such a bad guy. I... I was wrong. You need to know that-"

Magolor had a hard time meeting that open gaze and eagerly focused his own eyes on something moving in the distance. The jester stopped talking when he noticed Magolor suddenly focus on the sky, ears twitching. A moving speck drifted in the blue morning sky, moving in a lazy circle. The figure tilted at an angle at one point, allowing the two observers to identify a pair of large wings.

"What is that, Marx?" The Halcandran asked curiously, "We haven't seen many birds."

Marx muttered something his companion could not hear while casting a brief look at the streets below. The busy city folk had vanished into the buildings, leaving the outside world bare. Magolor immediately looked back up. The tiny speck in the distance had more than doubled in size and was slowly circling its way in their direction, red feathers blazing against the sun. His body went on autopilot, and he tried to turn around and get back in the building, but the heel of a muddy boot slammed down on his hand.

"Don't move," Marx hissed, barely moving his lips, "If we scramble around, that Dyna Blade will think we're food trying to escape. Do. Not. Move."

The two stayed locked in place, eyes on the sky. The adult Dyna Blade eventually settled on the edge of the treeline just outside the city. The creature perched on a cluster of trees, too large for one, as it watched the ground below for signs of movement. The shaking of the branches caused a few startled birds to take flight, only for them to be snatched up by a beak twice their size.

Magolor hissed through his teeth, "What should we do? We can't stay here forever."

"We might be able to make a break for it if it turns around. Birds like that have perfect vision. We're dead if it sees us move."

He gulped, suddenly aware of sore fingers and itchy clothes that he dare not scratch. "But, we'd just get a do-over, right? We would pop back somewhere else."

"Yeah, but where?" The jester glanced down at the streets below. "There are a lot of doors here, each in perfect view. Don't ever put yourself in that position." His foot twitched ever so slightly. "It's scary enough to die, but waking up long enough to see yourself die again? Over and over? I still have nightmares... That's the drawback. You can escape death as much as you want, but you can't stop the things that try to kill you from killing you again... Nothing is worse than getting stuck and never progressing."

Magolor did not know how to respond to that and decided that he probably should leave it be. They went back to watching the massive bird. Its talons shook more trees in an attempt to draw out more prey. No creature dared to flee, and the Dyna Blade squawked in frustration. It raised its head, focusing on the city and the thousands of things moving behind thin glass windows. In one fluid motion, the bird hopped from the trees to the top of a small building, nearly crumbling the structure with its grip. It began pecking at the windows to catch an easy meal. However, the city folk were much wiser than the natives of the forest. No one was close enough to get snatched away. Magolor gasped in surprise as he saw tiny objects being thrown at the intruder to ward it off. The Dyna Blade shrieked, annoyed and also surprised by the show of bravery. The bird spread its wings, preparing to find a new place to search for foo-

"Magolor!"

The shout made the Halcandran jump up and turn around without thinking. Galacta Knight, out of breath, was leaning out the window. He looked relieved to see the two boys for about two whole seconds. The eyes of the bird were on them immediately. With a chirp of excitement, it began making its way them, hopping across buildings like stepping stones on a river. Marx screeched a command to run as the predator was nearly upon them. Magolor watched him slide down the roof to avoid the talons of the bird. Galacta Knight drew his lance forward and also yelled at him to run as he took flight and prepared to fight. Magolor was rooted in place. Up close, the bird was the size of a small house with claws as big as himself. He could not move. We're going to dieI'mgoingtodieI'mgonnadie His blood felt cold and frozen. Magolor watched with a blank expression as Galacta Knight began swiping at the creature now standing among them. Bloody feathers from both of them scattered on the rooftop. The paralysis ended when teeth began to drag him out of harms way. Marx had scrambled around the legs of the bird to grab his frozen companion and pull him to the edge of the building.

"We have to climb down! We can't stay up here!"

Magolor almost obeyed when a magenta figure crashed into the ground below. Galacta hurried to get up again and distract the bird. Marx gave a surprised bleat when talons sank into his hide. He retaliated by grabbing the bird's toe with his teeth and shaking it viciously. Magolor's attempt to pull the jester free landed him in the same position, suddenly trapped in the tight fist of the Dyna Blade. Magolor curled up as small as he could to avoid the sharp talons threatening to stab his sides. There was no room to move, and his eyes were covered, but he could hear Marx cursing every curse he knew of and Galacta Knight practically screaming as the next round of the fight began. Magolor started struggling as the tight grip began to make breathing difficult. His panic grew stronger when the sound of wind replaced the shouting. It's taking off with us! How high up are we?! Regardless, he struggled harder. Even if it was pointless, he still wanted to fight. He wanted to live. Magolor had put up with danger, strangers, hunger, and self-absorbed assholes because he did not want to die. Then, he felt it, fear being replaced with rage. He did not come all this way to die. If the crown was to be believed, there may be greater purpose out there for him. No. No. I'm not bird food! I won't die! I can't die! Everything was shaking. His hands were shaking. His bones were shaking. His mind was screaming to do something he could not remember how to do. What is this burning feeling? Like hatred but different? That last thought began to fade into a final one. Where is Marx?

Marx was bobbing in and out of consciousness when he realized that he was free-falling through the open air. The Dyna Blade was directly below him, struggling to regain balance to fly. More importantly, the bird was on fire. Even more important than that, Magolor was nowhere to be seen. Also slightly important, the bird had taken them away from the city to a mountainous area he did not yet recognize.

He tensed when the Dyna Blade crashed to the ground, knowing that he was only a second or two behind it. However, Marx remained in the air just above the ground. He cringed at the sound of bones crunching against rock and a cry of pain being cut short. The charred bird was dead. Very dead. But why? With the immediate threat gone, awareness spread to the rest of his body. The jester tensed again for two very good reasons. His sides were striped with lacerations from the talons that trapped him. More concerning, he was definitely being held by something else. There was a hand on each side, keeping him close. Instead of making this person eat his boot for holding him like a toy, he looked up.

Marx made eye contact with a tall figure that was both familiar and foreign. The creature was at least twice his size, dressed in a red and purple cloak that appeared and disappeared along the jagged edges at the bottom. The hands were surrounded by little triangles rotating on a circle of light, which was pleasantly warm. The two eyes staring back at him were an uncommon color, not bright enough to be yellow but also not dark enough to be red.

"Marx?" The voice was a higher pitch than his own, but it was timid and smoother than velvet.

The jester decided to play it safe given his injuries. "Yep... That's me." He eyed the body on the ground and couldn't help himself. "Thanks for the fried chicken."

"I did that?" The creature studied the smoldering Dyna Blade. "Me?" They looked back at Marx. "No, I can't do that."

Marx sighed and squirmed feebly, "Whatever. Did you see anyone else when the bird fell? My friend got grabbed..." He cursed himself for not looking around the minute he woke up. He stopped moving when the pain was too much to bare. "Argh... and the others in the city... I... I gotta find Magolor."

"That's my name," his savior tilted his head in confusion. "That's me." The grip on Marx's body tightened. "Taranza. Where?"

Marx gaped, recognizing him immediately as he put all the pieces together. He sat there staring, making the connection but not believing it at all. Magolor, innocent weak Magolor, somehow transformed himself and blasted the largest predator on Popstar out of the sky like it was nothing. Hot damn, I should have asked Gala more questions instead of running like a weenie. Is this normal? Is this bad? Is he stuck like this? The new Magolor was staring back at him, saying nothing and making no attempt to let him go.

The jester forced his mouth to start working again. "Why... did this happen? You look... different?"

"You got smaller," the Halcandran grumbled back indignantly.

Marx raised a brow at him. "Uh. No. I didn't do shit."

"It's not my fault!" Oh, there it was. That signature whining.

Marx did not hesitate to poke fun, his own signature smirk forming. "Hehe, wow. You almost had me for a minute. Silly me thinking that some neat clothes would make you a tough guy! Ha!" He switched the subject before his companion could get too mad at him. "I'm glad you're alive by the way. I don't know how you did... this... but it's pretty cool."

Surprisingly, Magolor did not explode like usual over the jab. In fact, he was calmer than Marx had ever seen him. "You never say nice things."

"I'm cutting you some slack for saving me," Marx huffed as he looked away, "Don't get used to it."

Magolor allowed himself to chuckle for a moment. "Fine. The others?"

"Yeah, yeah. We better find them," Marx relaxed a bit, enjoying the perks of not having to walk while injured. "Galacta is probably having a heart attack, and Taranza is going to tear us each a new asshole for playing on the roof. That's going to be a fun lecture... Wake me up when something interesting happens..."

The fluctuation in time had just gone off the charts. Unreadable. Unpredictable. Definitely not what she will want to hear. Oh goodness me... Deep in the depths of Castle Dedede, a Dark Matter swordsman waved away the virtual data maps and tossed away his tarnished monocle (he did not need it, but he certainly liked having it). His simple mission of monitoring events had consistently gone from bad to worse. This whole timeline is such a mess! I have no idea what to expect! I have no idea how this will affect greater events!

"Nihlus," another Matter materialized to his right, neutral voice echoing as if in a large space, "I return with new data. I surveyed the water systems for signs of change. There was none. Maul has just finished surveying the outer atmosphere. Nothing has entered or exited the planet other than us. Circe informed me, however, that many native specimens are becoming notably more aggressive than usual."

Nihlus tried not to shiver in fear. "Are they making a move to act?"

"Negative," the other replied with no emotion, "The past heroes appear unaware and currently pacified with other duties. The king is subdued, the knight has not left this place at all, the guard appears suspicious but has done nothing... the World-Eater has not changed."

The analyst nodded to the surveyor. "Good enough. I picked up strange signals from the others before everything became unreadable... You will have to tell Circe that I have no answers. It is still too early to say if we can be saved. Unfortunately, I need time that I do not have... Perhaps one of us should meet with them. Thank you anyway for your help, Niik."

The other disappeared to hide in the shadows of the cellar. It was an unpleasant and cold place to hide, but it was better than the burning light outside that would boil them in five minutes. Nihlus turned his attention back to his work, sighing deeply into his deep blue scarf. He envied Niik. Niik had only recently gained independence from Zero's influence, thus still tended to act in a flat manner. Nihlus had been independent for a very long time, knowing thought and imagination just as any mortal would. It was not as beautiful as he thought it would be. The blessed Songs of their Maker could no longer pacify his scientific curiosity for all things. He was willingly released from His influence, and over time, formed a unique personality of his own. For a time, it was incredible. It was so, so beautiful.

Then every single one of his people were slaughtered by the World-Eater.

Death to an immortal creature was horrific. Thousands of years of no emotion or physical feelings, and then being blindsided by pain and suffering. It was all the negative judgments of the gods, all the hurt of flesh, all the tortures of hell crammed into a single moment of existence.

That was not the end of it.

They came back.

They all came back as if nothing happened.

It seemed that way at first, but careful observers like himself notices subtle changes in events. Dreamers like Circe saw this as an opportunity that only a fool would refuse. This was the ultimate do-over, a complete reset of time itself. True, Zero's official order for independents was to find and subdue whoever was manipulating time, but the chance to save our people from dying out was too good, too plausible. Without the rules of dependents, they could act as they saw fit and interfere all they like, at the price that they cannot return home later without giving up the personality they gained in order to reintegrate with the cloud of endless minds. Nihlus had yet to decide his path if they succeed. Being honest with himself, he would probably do whatever Circe was doing. She was brash and headstrong but usually right.

He turned away from the box he called a desk and joined Niik in the safety of the shadows. They blended together seamlessly into one larger shadow behind a stack of empty kegs. Though fused, Nihlus was very much aware of his own thoughts being different from the other. The little group of four was not much, but these quiet moments were a reminder of something greater, the millions of their kind floating aimlessly in space waiting for an order to return home. We're trying. If you can hear my song, don't give up! We have a plan, and... we might not fail? No, we will definitely succeed! Somehow? Just stay safe. Stay together, and stay safe.