Note: Just as before, this chapter will feature the method of leading up to where the last chapter ended and continuing forward.

Chapter 16. Hierarchy Adjustments

2 hours after the Power Rangers leave Terra Venture. It should not surprise anyone that Luke, the arguable leader of the Power Rangers, took everyone's absence as a wonderful time to meditate. Two things to address – leadership & meditation. Reason why said position is in contention points to the input, willfulness to train, unshaking outlook in battle by Maya; this leads to more a beneficial power struggle. The duo declared their sexual relations to the other members quite recently. Then there is the fact that the Power Rangers were not keen in being dogmatic, given their blessings of one Ranger taking charge of an operation or slice of operation, who is not automatically Leo or Maya. The second aspect (meditation) puzzled the brown haired more than the first one. He had never immersed himself in a tranquil state where the objective is to clear the mind and lock onto something that is driven by the self.

"Our involvement with the Unknown takes a high tally on our bodies. No question about it. Every one's got a stab through the flesh as a minimum result. The lethality of their encounters scorches Scorpius's."

The brown male is stunned by a cynical, foreboding view on the matter and is unable to leave it in silence.

"Our fight with Exceer almost spelled the end for Damon. Yes, he survived. Although…"

A silent breathing cycle.

"…It's unclear how long we can brawl with them without one of us dying?"

Such rational, grim thoughts can easily derail one's productivity; the people who are capable of repossessing it – seldom. Luckily, Leo does not need to dwindle on that for long with his communication device going off in less than a minute.

"Leo here."

"It's Stanton. Glad to reach you, Leo."

"Of course,… sir. What's the reason for your call?"

"Captain Nestov's scouts have reported a suspicious person, wondering around the area next to the water basins of our space station."

The Ranger's mind instantly crosses out an enemy group; thus, only one possible group remains.

"I trust his soldiers have not engaged him."

The Commander of the Space Station lets out a small chuckle.

"That'd be incredibly unwise. No. His men are keeping their distance from that person."

"Great move, Commander. If he or she is with the collective, which orchestrated the prison break, he is far too dangerous and deadly just for a couple of soldiers."

"Great that we're on the same page, Leo. I'll send you the coordinates of our suspect's whereabouts. You just got to be on point."

The ending is laced with considerably more sternness than the start or the middle.

"I'm moving there right away."

"Wonderful news. Stanton out."

The line goes dead.

A good half an hour later. The basically, casually dressed brown haired male finishes running to the place where the unclear intentioned being should resign. With the motivation of preventing enormous physical harm already present, there also lies a much more far-reaching reason. Water is one of the 4 crucial resources for any Human being to live; letting a mysterious figure roam about such a place seems unheroic, extremely naïve. Attentively scanning through the area, Maya's boyfriend latches onto something peculiar.

"That's most likely him."

He rearranges his posture, now it is more befitting of a man going into a possibly pain inducing confrontation with someone. Moreover, him making a judgement call on the suspect's sex is logical, given the fact that the majority of the Unknown's interacted being were males.

Throughout Leo's movement, the figure remains, more or less, still, comfortably resting his lower back against a railing. Several intertwining railing went over the steel covered water basins (a precautionary measure).

"He's definitely confident. Exceer was too."

Being in reasonable range, the outfit becomes incredibly clear. The figure wore a brisk marmalade orange, boxer identity withholding type of robe, at first glance, comfortably, warmly resting on the skin. A noteworthy detail – considerably thick pads on the shin & calf. It takes the Red Ranger getting within 5 meters (~16 ft) to show any obvious sign of life. Some would treat this approach as highly arrogant, overconsumed by one's ego; those same people are always eager to see if the displayed bravado benefits the person invoking it in any visible way.

"You're moving oddly mysteriously for a simple traveler."

A more serious, dangerous look appears.

"Care to explain yourself?"

"Heh!" – the unidentified being voices with a smirk.

The Ranger's approach does not dissolve, but only grows in stature.

"You won't be finding this situation funny when I get you to the Command Station."

"Relax,… Ranger."

The person moves away from the railing; Leo's sense of danger double.

"There will be none of that."

Besides the addressing, every other word is exuding superiority, arrogance, a light view on a matter.

"Let's keep it brief."

A slow lift back of the orange hood is conducted without interference; the being's sex is stamped to be the same as the one Leo implied. The Ranger's opponent is a bit shorter than him, short brown hair covering the head, face – clean, devoid of facial hair. The attention and care for the lower parts of the body is no accident – the exact frame of mind continues throughout the body. Quite bizarrely, yet rationally, a basic, daffodil yellow helmet makes an appearance.

"My name's Tannon. My ruler is tired of your survival. That's what I'm here to change."

In a split second, the recently identified being drops the robe fully onto the ground, pulls out a sword and dashes at Leo.

"Tsssss!"

The duo's blades slam and travel against each other; the time for action has arrived.

At least 10 hits enacted. Expectation is one of those beliefs that are mutually understood by most intellectually gifted Humans to withhold a wide spectrum; due to the word 'achievement' being pressed into the definition, an enormous list of views can emerge on a singular matter. To some critical observers, the shakiness around expectation is rooted in the essence of the Human being. Everyone starts from a different place in life, so to presume everyone should accomplish similar heights is demoralizing, utopian. All that being said, the Red Ranger felt confident through the start of the encounter that he can reach a milestone against the Unknown; there was not even a small spark of the idea that the others would be disappointed in his efforts up to this point. For one of the combatants a pattern emerged about the other one's collective – ruthlessness is a noteworthy quality for a warrior.

Abruptly, Leo ducks down to dodge a swift slash at his neck by his foe.

"I'm not going down that fast!"

Another deflected swipe is followed up by a crucial jump from one pathway onto another.

"What's he planning to gain? A miraculous escape?"

A return to a normal stance from the short brown haired male, immediate analysis of the best route to continue this confrontation. Maya's boyfriend is fully absorbed by the battle, given the miraculously fast turn around and scream:

"Go Galactic!"

Several seconds later Leo is dressed properly, accordingly as the Red Ranger.

"Cha!"

"Alright." – Tannon says calmly before showing some smugness.

Needless to say, this does not impress the visibly armored male. Both combatants immerse themselves in different approaches: Leo – the static, patient one, Tannon – the proactive, dominant one.

"Well done,… Ranger. You did not hesitate to power up when dealing with a dangerous opponent."

"You're a quick learner. Mekasta was too."

Leo lifts his saber up to his chest, points it at Tannon in a perfect horizontal angle. The latter revives their closeness; reason being – the male duo are now back on a singular pathway rather than 2 different ones.

"She failed her mission. I intend to pursue an… alternative ending."

A short pause comes about. You could say within this insignificant moment in time compared to the gigantic history of the Universe the combatants achieve a bond of mutual understanding that could be categorized as transcendent. Merely 3 meters (~10 ft) of air stands between the closest physical points.

"In my view, you both suffer from the same flawed state of mind."

"You'd be hard to grow up differently in the presence of… Them."

An unprecedented shiver enters the voice mixture at the end of the retort. More subconsciously than consciously, Leo's mind treats this 'bread crumb' as an integral piece on the path to discover who truly is the Unknown. Though, it will have to wait, since there is a adverse situation carrying out at this exact moment.

As soon as Tannon judges a moment as the correct one, he launches at Leo. The latter is quick to notice the more compounding nature of the strikes; maybe the view on prolonging the fight has soured to an unattainable degree. A 3rd, a 4th, a 5th… The attempted slashes, who intersect the heart at their midpoint, are proving harder and harder stop for the Ranger. Rationally, a change in tactics is implemented. Leo blocks another one, then swiftly, with a large force goes after Tannon's shoulder. The person has to evade by pulling the body diagonally; this invites more pressure, since the attack shows promise. The Red Ranger decides to gamble on a downward stab at his waist. Miraculously, his foe dodges it; moreover, the created space due to the nature of the mentioned attack creates a vulnerable area. The smug one seizes the opportunity to land a punch at Leo's head.

"Ah!"

Naturally, this causes disorientation for the male. Then… another punch lands. Now he is in a shaky stance which is not where the dangerousness ends. A dual footed, speed assisted kick at the upper body from Tannon dislodges the Ranger to such an extent that he trips over the railing; the lone positive – a grab of it, so is to not fall onto the steel covers of the water basins.

"Darn it." – Maya's boyfriend thinks.

Several seconds pass before the former marmalade orange robe wearer gets to a striking distance. No surprise that the person is feeling a rise in joy, pleasure, confidence.

"I don't suspect you to be swayable."

The view is presented in a nonchalant, untroubled manner. A quick analysis is done before the short sword attempts to injure the palm, which is holding his opponent up. The suited being's reflexes are enough to avoid the hit and drop down a level; now the entire mass is hanging on the edge of the platform. Precariously, there are no more levels to descend onto. At current glance, the battle seems to be almost over in favor of the Unknown.

"But I cannot resist such a glorious moment."

The sharp point locks onto the head.

"Do you surrender?"

Before making the inquiry, the visibly armored male assumed the Power Ranger would plunge mentally into despair and begin going over the past choices that led up to this moment. A lust for a complete personality's demolition – cruelness's offspring.

Surprisingly, the de jure leader utters:

"No way! Not now,… nor ever. I swore that I'd protect the Universe from any hostile forces until I couldn't no more!"

An apathetic grin appears.

"Your resolution is admirable."

The armed hand is pulled back.

"Now take this!" – he screams out.

The sword is driven at Leo's head. Still being incapable to pull himself up, jump onto the side, he puts his entire faith in the 'Chosen Ones' ethos and… releases himself from the platform. This way, the weapon ends up merely dislodging air particles in different directions, not piercing any sort of solid material.

"A good ending."

In a fast transition, Tannon returns his sword to his side, stands up as healthily as possible and takes a breath.

"Time to go collect his Qasar saber from way down there."

Right there and then… his ears pick up a ferocious blast coming from the area where the Red Ranger fell just seconds ago. A suspicious outlook emerges, a list of possible explanations explode in the mind's zone. The oddness of the situation soars up when another sound related incident occurs.

"These Humans possess compactible flying… boards?"

The thought is crushed dually – first by his own recall of there not being anything on the Ranger in their fight and second by a visceral jolt up of something solid considerably over his head. Feeling uneasy, fearing the worst, the male looks up into the sky.

Immediately, the person shouts:

"WHAT?!"

His eyes had tremendous difficulty in processing the sight. About 20 meters (~66 ft) above hovers the Red Ranger who he thought had smashed ferociously into the steel surface. Not only that, there is some type of… contraption on his entire backside; 4 pipe/pole resembling parts help said case.

"So? You've got a trick up your sleeve?"

An arrogant facial expression shows itself before a serious one replaces it in a couple of seconds. Tannon asks:

"Running away then?"

Understandably, the standing person cannot read his opponent's face objectively, accurately due to the mask on it; maybe then a shift in the approach would be plausible.

"No way, Tannon. I'm finishing this here and now. Since you were ready to destroy me and your capture would only cause more casualties, you'll meet your end here." – the Red Ranger lets out loudly, with unwavering conviction.

A raise of the sword.

"We'll see!"

Leo swiftly pulls out a small sharp, lean object and throws it at Tannon. The latter realizes the moment of impact to be greater than previously thought and shifts to his left; the object barely misses his neck.

"That was close."

The thought is momentarily followed up by the flying down enemy. The result? The Red Ranger lands a hit to the right side of his waist. It creates significant pain that begins to hinder his performance.

"Hmph."

Yet, there is no time to waste. Judging the soundwaves again, the male spring around. With almost no time to recuperate, 2 more small objects shoot at him. Difference being – this time they connect; it results in both of his thigh armors bouncing them off. At that moment, he thinks the worst is over. In contradiction, the worst comes next. The gained speed advantage coupled with the imbalanced mental processing of events, lets Leo arrive like lightning and slashes Tannon almost at the middle of the upper body. The move pays high dividends.

"Aaaaaah!"

The standing warrior loses his natural stance, crawls up a significant amount due to the enormous pain stream erupting from the damaged area. Fear of the future makes an appearance in the idea sphere; the negative turn of events starts to overwhelm the mind. Then… an intense collision at the top of his back tumbles him to the ground with Leo leaving his feet on the enemy. A few grunts are heard before the battle is concluded.

About half a day forward. There is an adjective that would best describe the current experience for a holistic Human; it's called – serene. The dynamic, multilayered sound of water in the backdrop creates calmness within the mind, allows one to completely focus on a singular effort.

"You sense it now?"

Someone whispers a question with supreme diligence, so not to dissolve the peaceful state.

"Yes." – another person answers silently.

"That's what constant work can accomplish. You could even treat it as hypnosis."

Eyelids shut & open again.

"What is your end goal? As I recall, this was a challenge?"

"The end goal has not changed."

A step is taken.

"I just wanted to remind you what heights can a persevering person achieve."

A cheerful expression comes to fruition.

"Now we can back to the challenge!" – a person shouts.

The sereness is broken; immediately, upbeat, encouraging music comes on, one of the conversing beings takes the initiative. Soon, the duo are within a foot's reach of each other; there they commence in an unorthodox game.

"You think he has a chance?"

"No. The depleted Lord could have been gotten at. Now he's rejuvenated."

In less than 30 seconds, one of the 2 loses his balance and tumbles into a stream of water, which is called a waterfall.

"DRAAA!"

Quite soon the person slams into a fairly large body of water.

"It went longer than I expected."

A smile is portrayed. Back on the top, where the other person is still standing, a victory pose is seen by others around. Where was he standing in a broader sense? On the upper level of an elaborate, at least 18 meters (~59ft) tall, multicolored, different material made up, somewhat transparent tower. The person in question – clearly dressed with a degree of restraint intact, valued trueness, not really subscribed to the mindset of 'the more naked skin, the better'. Obviously, the being's sex helped. A noticeable detail of the dress code pertained to pineapple yellow-pine green swirl decorated gauntlets; one of which had a screen incorporated into it. Pitch black, ¾ length, elastic material holding pants, comfortably pressed onto the skin to the degree that it allows the skin, largest organ of the Human body, to breathe, but alludes to a balanced performance-leisure mind frame. In shorter, a conscious, foresightful choice of clothing.

Several seconds passed.

"Ah yeah! It is so good to enjoy the glamorousness of today!"

In a split second after lowering the arms, crimson red begins flashing on the screen.

"Really was not expecting that."

A silver button is pressed and a person appears on the admirable device; nothing spectacular to report – a familiar face shows itself.

"Vautlric."

"Lord Crius. It's great that you had your device with you, even though I can tell your enjoying yourself today."

"The week – magnificent; last night – same. I aim to soak in this wonderful… zone." – the Demigod ends his statement with incredible zest, drive to act.

Unexpectedly or not, the male Champion gets cold feet. Most would not struggle to sympathize with Vaultric at this particular instance. Case being, if somebody really values, cares, cherishes somebody else and sees them return to a fortunate, pleasant path, then he or she is adamant not to evaporate it with negative news. Luckily for the Champion, Rhea's brother appears to be cheerful just to lounge in the water; no indication of a demanding, forceful manner from him. The time is used to carefully evaluate the before mentioned dilemma.

"Well,…"

The background around the warm parchment white face, smooth hickory brown eyes possessing male frames the possible locations, where he currently is.

"Well what, Vaultric?" – he calmly asks.

"There is a… grim fact I care to share to with you."

The 1st roll of the dice is successful from the overly concerned one's point of view, since the positive emotional sphere visibly continues.

"I'm guessing it involves our ranks?"

The fairly quick inquiry releases all doubt from the male Champion's mind. Therefore, the response becomes far longer.

"To me, the 3 of the Power Rangers survival tells me that Exceer has been defeated. Knowing his personality, I cannot imagine a scenario in which he was captured and taken by the Humans."

One could hear the waves and drops of water being created by the ever moving, synchronized feet.

"I'd contemplated this in my time back from the journey. Thank you for being so restrained, communicative, Vaultric."

"I'm always eager to reaffirm your choice in choosing me as one of your special warriors."

"When you get back with my cousin, I'll relay the events centered around us. I just… hope you and the others bashed the Rangers a decent amount."

A confident, proud, possibly sheepish grin shows itself.

"I definitely approached the battle without fear and avoided complacency."

"Alright then. We'll talk when you get back."

"Enjoy your wonderful time, Lord Crius."

The screen shuts off. The Demigod places his arm in a free, loose position on top of the water & simply closes his eyes. A serene atmosphere reemerges in the mind, perfect for dissecting the growing emotional palette – both negative and positive. Before agreeing to send Vaultric on a mission with Polus, Crius pondered the method by which he treated his Champions. Then there is the fact that no fathomable way the Rangers, even all 5, could have eliminated Exceer by themselves; sure, some may argue that the cause is poor judgement. There are other ideas seeping into his mind, but the male is not intrigued in pursuing a thorough assessment of the news just now. Right now the opportunity to cherish a thrilling day pushes the downbeat task further down the line.

Several minutes later. 4 people are assembled in a circle, beyond an elevation, which kept the water concentrated, did not allow it to travel chaotically. Substantial towels brush up against the liquid exposed skin, everyone's keeping a positive outlook on the current state of affairs.

"It's been a while since we all enjoyed our time at the Riptide." – one of them says.

"Agreed." – another one replies.

Crius takes a swig of a yellow elixir into his mouth.

"Me & my team have finally gone over the half point of acquiring the substance."

"We should focus on getting the lesser half done as soon as possible."

"Rest assured, Garmidz. Safeguards have been placed to avoid any intrusions from the unwanted."

"Being careful is not a crime."

"Definitely not, my Champions."

In a split second, one of the entrances comes into use and 2 attractive females begin walking over to them. The quartet rapidly identify who those females are.

"Bonelia, Yves."

"Lord Crius."

Their exchange is conducted in a abnormally high pitch due to the gigantic space around them. At 1st glance, both ladies look eager to enter the water; their clothes, carrying object are the reasons for such a conclusion.

"I trust there will be no issue in allowing both of us to enjoy the Riptide."

"As long as you stay out of our talk, we'll coexist peacefully."

The duo nods, rests their things near the elevation and cheerfully submerge their lustful bodies into the transparent liquid.

Sometime passes. The 'Riptide', as at least a couple of them called it, becomes more occupied with the arrival of 3 new beings; Crius knows 2 of the 3 immensely, thoroughly. The last one's identity remains a mystery, since the outer clothing layer hides the face with immaculate precision. Still, the manner, in which the figure traverses the surface, the proportions, shoulder width suggests to the Royal that the unknown's sex is female.

"Look whose come out for some leisure." – one of the four state mockingly, slantingly.

"Life is not always pleasure,… Ceylon."

"I'd never argued that it is. You just fail to compliment my experience more time than not."

"Yet she occupies the same position as you." – Elektra interjects.

"Yeah. Mekasta did too. And where did she end up?"

The male Champion refuses to retract his view on one of his colleague's input/value; honestly, it transmits to Elektra too. Crius finds himself reveling in being the observer, which is somewhat unorthodox, Euphrosyne approved, of this verbal clash among the Champions. It proves, edges in stone the grittiness that accompanies a constant extrusion of the self through the Will can be so strong that it creates impenetrable walls around certain viewpoints.

"Pardon our intrusion, my Lord. I saw that you were explaining a topic before we walked in."

"That's right."

The Demigod takes another swig of his bright drink.

"We'll address our reason for being here after you've finished."

"Splendid choice, Elektra."

The known for craftiness, half naked male flexes his arms. A small dose of exercise is enacted; the bystanders, allied special warriors patiently wait for the process to end, each holding a different emotional basis on the matter.

"Now what were we talking about?" – Crius asks in an equanimous manner.

"The end was: 'A recent development'."

"Perfectly accurate."

A face that trickles with genuine appreciation.

"Thank you, my Lord."

"So… as we were discussing about a minute ago a recent development, I believe there is a way to deal with its implications."

"Care to elaborate on said way?"

"Of course."

The Demigod surveys the faces of his champions before continuing.

"As I stated before, the event will be disclosed in a couple of days. Now about my suggestion as a countermove against it."

A brief overview within the mind.

"I'm keen on hosting a special fight tournament."

Secretly, this ushers in a monstrous quantity of confidence to Seismika & Elektra. Opposingly, their minds are swiftly overloaded with shock; the ability to process reality disharmonizes to an extent. Do not get it confused – the females welcome this turn of events with open arms. Just the fact that it came to be overarches their maximum capacity to calmly comprehend.

"Special how?" – Ceylon asks passionately, cheerfully.

"I've got a vision on what type of outfit code I want to apply to it. Envisioning it in my mind, the sereness, sternness, tameness – all of it could be on display in such a tournament. Though,…"

A small extrusion of sorrow.

"…I do not foresee females encompassing such an aura as brightly as the males."

Predictably, anger, malice erupts within the emotional sphere of the female Champions. To the lively, free will exhibiting beings of this Universe, a mere whiff of discrimination, whether objectively valid or not, can lead to disastrous outcomes. Someone presses a specific button within the group.

"Oh! That's extremely powerful! I can wait to tell her of this."

An extremely short period of time passes before Garmidz casually voices:

"Well, it's your prerogative, Lord Crius. As far as I can remember, there is no law that prohibits one from calling a tournament just for one sex."

"I'm certain there isn't."

"Obviously, there are still some…"

"NO!"

Everyone's eyesight shifts to the person who raised the decibel level.

"No, Seismika?"

"No, Lord. This is unacceptable and demoralizing. Your belittling me & Elektra once again." – she answers with visible disdain.

"Belittling? Not really. I'm just assessing the outfit code I aim to proclaim for this fighter tournament. Right now, females do not fit into it."

"We're just as much Champions of you & to other Royals as our male contemporaries. You should allow both sexes to participate; it would only be fair."

"Something's a miss here, Elektra."

Crius's smooth hickory brown eyes narrow, latch onto the addressed female warrior.

"You've not admitted to a desire in participating in it, yet both you & Seismika are clearly against my vision. To me,… this is a sign of withholding the true intention."

Before the fierce warrior could retort, Ceylon steps in with:

"I'm not sure why Elektra is acting this way. Though, Seismika is easy to trace."

A smirk emerges.

"She's having a hard time proving her worth to you."

"You are openly stepping all over the rule of us being respectful with each other, Ceylon."

"Is it my fault that you are constantly underwhelming?"

One could sense the tension rising between Ceylon on one side and the female duo on the other one. Even with their leader speaking, the male is too eager to stop insulting, playing down one of his colleagues ability, status. Euphrosyne's brother is enamored with the current trajectory of this conversation; he is collecting impressions of the state of his Champions. The signs are pointing to a far less hospitable, healthy group dynamic than previously thought.

Just as Crius was ready to address the arisen issue once again, an entrance opens once again. It is the same one from where the trio came; wisely, the eyes shift to said place. A conscious conclusion of the day forces it – the mentioned trajectory is reaching more highs & lows with every passing minute. A bit of time passes before the identities are confirmed to the organized collective.

"Horacio, Siren. You're doing some sort of synchronized arrival at the Riptide Center today?"

"Not by our perspective."

"Even I crave a swim in the gigantic pool from time to time."

"I can see that."

"We all can." – Grimadz states.

Out of the 2 approaching duo, the female is unmistakably the more likely one to throw herself in the water. A horseshoe/arc carved out in the middle, one piece, vastly wine red with a sprinkle of black swimsuit is magnificently covering the body; naturally, the bare skin coupled with the hard to achieve physique releases lustful urges from the males.

"We're not stopping you from going in there, Siren."

"True, but I believe we need to resolve a conflict."

"Conflict?"

"More so – the disagreement you're having just before we came in." – Horacio answers expertly calm, intrigued.

Sadly, to the half of the males, which wanted the conversation done instantly, Euphrosyne's male Champion's entrance knocks it out, since deceiving him is an enormous task, even for a Royal.

"We were just getting to the finishing part."

"With all due respect, Lord Crius, your faces tell another story. Cohesion is a miss."

"Not all discussions are cohesive, Horacio."

"100%."

"Where does the problem lie?" – Siren inquires.

The Demigod instinctively extends his arm towards the space in between the females.

"Seismika & Elektra are being uncooperative."

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Alright. There's definitely a contentious issue here."

"Obviously, you know why are they behaving this way, Lord Crius?"

A confident, wicked grin appears

"Only partially, Horacio. They're leaving something out. That something is no doubt the reason why are they objecting to my proposal."

"And the proposal… is?"

"Today I came across an idea for a fight tournament. The aspect that they are contesting is my desire to only allow males to participate."

A moment of silence is enacted.

"What makes you certain that they cannot compete with their male counterparts?"

"The outfit code. It does not jell, connect with the female body. I crave a certain presentation of oneself and the way I envision it no female is capable of upholding the set standard."

The arm slowly returns to his side again.

"You could modify it to encompass them with little sacrifice of your vision?"

"Could does not mean must, Siren." – he answers with slight displeasure.

"This is after all Crius's incentive. Others have no business interfering with it."

"Your underestimating, Lady Nemesis, Ceylon. She will not take this decision lightly." – Elektra interjects.

"No she won't." – someone thinks to him or herself maniacally.

"ENOUGH!"

The person who had hidden his identity behind a hood brashly peels it back; thus, the identity can now be known by the others around them. An expected mixture of emotions arise from the collective: some are pleased, some – confused, others – suspicious.

"Lord Crius."

The person instantly drops one knee to the ground, leans back a bit, angles the face directly at the Royal and explains:

"I know I've behaved dangerously by entering your conversation without your consent. I'm prepared to take the physical punishment for my actions. I only wish you hear me out completely."

If one is to observe the facial expressions of those around the kneeling being, a spectrum of pro-, neutral and anti- would arise immediately. To the main figure, the act is mysterious, unprecedented enough, the positive outlook is strong enough to negate the devious circumstances, unfavorable affiliation.

"Continue." – the parchment white skinned male states slowly.

Saliva is plunged down the throat in an attempt to quell the fear, uncertainty of the near future.

"Well,… I know I'm a Champion of Atlas, but…"

A miniscule birth of tears follows suit.

"…I beg you let me participate in your fight tournament, so that I can transfer from his ranks into yours. I know you have doubts about me. My intentions. Reservations. All of it…"

The dread of being dismissed and going back to Atlas creates shockwaves within her emotional sphere.

"…I promise I'll give 100% of myself to winning the tournament & proving that I'm actually a magnificent, formidable special warrior. Who… just so happens to have made a catastrophic error of judgement."

Violet angles her head downward; treats the pose as the absolute best for receiving judgement from a Royal.

Hard to envision someone guessing that the answer would come quickly; that heavily clashes with the personality of Crius. Rhea valued shrewdness, Euphrosyne did too; though you might argue that the latter merely applied her intellectual gift openly, resisting the unseen path. It is a highly dependent, circumstantial observation. Back to the Demigod, who is surrounded by several Champions, he feels a rise in rational puzzle solving. The velocity behind it makes the urge blazing, fiery. Due to the genetical advancement, impressive care to harness the maximum of oneself (case in point – sublime over mediocrity), the time required for the canvas to become antiwhite is quite short.

"Unprecedent. Honestly stunning. Such… impressive coordination."

An unparalleled sense of time; the mind bizarrely views every aspect of it – the past, present & future – in a positive light. In quick succession, the realization that the future has now reestablished itself as adventurous, zigzagging.

"I'd be unnecessarily cruel to rule this anything other than a perfect execution. They really could not have played their roles any better."

An exciting, thrilling view follows suit.

"Enough analyzing. Two opposite reasons are the most likely ones. Either all of them are working for one of my family members in secret and aiming to diminish me in their presence. Or Violet is truly willing to forego her alignment to Atlas in a dreaded attempt to become my Champion and the other four are just naturally supporting their colleague."

The anxious pause ends. Euphrosyne's brother takes two massive steps forward; others simply watch the Demigod move. By doing so, the being is within touching distance of the half kneeling, visibly distraught person. Eyes suspiciously shift to another person.

"I doubt you would surprise me by acknowledging who remembered said rule."

"No need."

"There is little desire in going over such trivialities." – Siren voices nonchalantly, alluding to a preexisting knowledge of the answer.

"Agreed."

Eyesight locks in on Violet; Atlas's Champion fears the worst, but is resolute in receiving her judgement. A healthy approach to a scenario where the stakes are absolutely critical, nail-biting.

"Stand up."

Being unsure, the vibrant female gets back on both feet neither hastily, nor slowly. Maybe it is one of those situations where the pacing, minute details require honest diligence.

"Rules & circumstances dictate that a Champion of ours can apply for a different rank once in their life. Such is to be fair that even a remarkable, special warrior as all of you are can succumb to disastrous choices. Once… and only once."

The ending is enriched with severity, sternness; probably in an attempt to quell any blissful thinking around the occurrence or event being anything other than extremely rare.

Crius shows a slightly malevolent grin before slowly lifting his right hand, palm down up to Violet's chin. The understandably timid female dries out her eye canals, confidently aims her eyes directly at him. One might assume that their skins would touch before anything noteworthy happens, but that proves to be incorrect. Just barely avoiding her skin, the well-toned armed male softly states:

"I trust there is no need of a demonstration for lying to me."

"No, Lord Crius. I'm aware of that outcome."

"Wonderful. Now to end this."

Resembling a shot of a cannonball, briskness, liveliness show up as visible representations of his current emotional state.

"Given the faith that the others have placed in you, I'll present the tournament in a more favorable timeframe. From now you are protected by me and anyone attempting to harm, poison or immobilize you for participating in my upcoming tournament will be dealt with personally."

An appreciatory facial expression is produced.

"After all, it is part of that rule's conditions."

"Thank you, Lord Crius. I aim to prove to you that I'm worthy of being your Champion."

"Alright."

He retracts his arm back to his side.

"There is just one more thing. Speaking of lying to me, you will get an opportunity to witness, Violet, what happens to those who act in spite of my warning."

In a split second, he shifts his body 180 degrees.

"Isn't that right,… Bonelia?!"

Logically, this revelation perfectly coincides with the phrase 'the jig is up'. Two distinct acts are enacted in sequence: firstly, Nemesis's female Champion feels a shock of fear entering her psyche due to the way Crius said her name and their most recent interaction; secondly, the haughtiness breaks the surface, urges a fast getaway as the best possible choice. The amazing short time for a decision to be made sways the scales, so that disappearing becomes preferred.

Main issue – she was dealing with a Royal. What does that lead to? It leads to her conducting a low start as a track & field athlete, dashing away with a surprisingly high chance of survival by her interpretation. Unfortunately, it takes less than 10 seconds for the parchment white skinned male to be close enough to ferociously push her; moreover, a tumble is seen by everyone.

"I'd advise staying down, Bonelia, unless…

A normal, healthy posture comes back.

"…you want me to break your delicate bones."

Everyone other than her can sense the zestful callousness spreading out after the body rearrangement.

"Darn! I cannot believe I got caught! Well,…"

The laying female grinds her teeth.

"…better receive the pain as small as possible."

Shortly, the Royal goes over, grabs Bonelia by one of her hands and lifts her off the ground; the latter stays true to her thinking – no more resistance is shown. Now the two's eye level is practically the same.

"Wise move. Since I'm feeling enthusiastic, I'll make this quick."

He brings her closer, so that he can whisper in her ear:

"I told you to not listen into our conversation."

The tender voice – a false dawn, since immediately after that statement, he reestablishes some distance and viciously trounces her stomach with his other fist.

"PFAH!"

She is let go; instantly her body falls onto the ground knees first. One could easily asses the pose as squirming in pain.

"Consider yourself fortunate."

Another 180 degree turn.

"A bit more and you'd be out for a month."

As a father disappointed in his son, he slowly marches back to the Champions' collective, never looking back at the wounded, hurt, suffering Bonelia. Sometimes situations present themselves in a way that elevates them to 'too good' status. Serious question – if someone could stamp on something important and the opportunity presented itself, why would he or she decline? Especially when the person, who is the tool, has no chance of reversing the statement. This action leaves the biggest impression on Violet; the female sees her desired master dealing with arrangement breakers.

"That was sad, but necessary. It gives me a fresher perception on my upcoming Lord."

She soon remembers the conversation with other Champions on the seemingly reserved Crius. To her collection, most would attribute the ruthless tag to him only when extremely specific situations arise. That was the main factor that separated him from Nemesis – the latter was insurmountably more likely to show the unforgiving mindset than the former.

A couple of hours after Polus's hit on Damon. There is a time to fight and there is a time to escape; being able to chose the appropriate one in a dire situation checks off the list of an experienced warrior/fighter. Obviously, this decision becomes easier with the amount of times it creeps to the surface.

"We'll be soon departing the atmosphere." – Kendrix says cautiously.

Doors close behind her, the Pink Ranger paces to the side of a specially designed bed.

"Glad to hear that."

The Yellow Ranger stands up.

"Let's just hope we can manage to escape them for good."

"That is the goal."

The females position themselves in chairs next to the mentioned bed.

"Ach… Cha…"

Someone is grasping at air, voicing something despite the overflowing pain within his or her body.

"Take it easy, Damon." – Kendrix states.

The blonde cannot escape the feeling of misfortune, sadness; the freshness of what had just transpired on the purple-red showing planet would not let her.

"At least the machine's scan wrights off any neck bones broken." – Maya mentions reluctantly.

"So I won't be sidelined for extremely long."

"No. You won't."

"Good… But that guy is insane."

"If your analysis is right, his explosiveness, velocity is unhuman. For a mere arm extension to be enough to power us down and cripple our movement. Staggeringly discomforting."

"We'll just have to continue… working."

"Couldn't agree more, Damon. We must train our bodies to handle such powerful enemies."

"He might have been the Great One that Exceer referred to." – the Pink Ranger states.

"Be that as it may, the Unknown is unpredictable. We can't get away from that."

The muscular armed female glances at the practically immobilized colleague.

"With each encounter against the Unknown, our task becomes harder."

"Oh yeah…"

Simultaneously. One of the Royals expedition merges back to a singular unit; rationally, insightfully, the reconnecting groups share their experience with each other on the Mahogany red surface.

"…But it came at a cost." – Gloria concludes decidedly.

"Yes. Two of our warriors were mortally wounded." – Elvis concedes the negative outcome that Gloria presented.

"Well, one warrior did make it through." – Nalmos presents a counter argument.

"Loses against the Rangers are nothing new."

"Greatly said."

"That is the reality we now live in, my Champions. We ought to get off this planet, since our goal was achieved." – Polus voices, cheerfulness rising when addressing the beings around him.

"Fortunately, you did send them a parting gift, Lord Polus."

"Undoubtedly so, Vaultric."

In the upcoming half an hour the Royal's chosen collective confidently, thoroughly return to the spaceship with the machines that were needed in this mission. Same now as on the surface several distinct, separate emotions operate within the highly skilled warriors. Even with the counterbalance of one warrior escaping death, Nalmos twists and turns around the evaluation of this mission. To some the rawness of an experience helps immensely; to others – it only pushes the mind into a state of continual indecision. Regardless of their type, the wisest conclusion would be a balanced one, verifying both the positives and the negatives of this particular scenario. Of course, in the end it would mean a percentage of 60-40, 65-35 or 70-30. In short, significant, but not overwhelming.

Still experiencing adrenaline, fast blood cell movement from the fight with the Power Rangers, Crius's Champion calmly, thoughts collected enters an unusually small room. The relatively fast pacing helps him reach his target in several seconds.

"It's been a while since I had to do this."

Due to complete synchronicity, the male powers through several obstacles, one which is a duplicate, to achieve the overarching goal.

-Cue the sequence of Vaultric contacting Crius-

Afterwards, the person is visibly ecstatic, maybe a bit hyperbolized, but the overall view is of the same vain. The journey back home presents a wonderful opportunity to bask, enjoy the fruits of one's labor.

"If I could have the ability to redo the conversation, I'd most likely never get a better outcome than this one. He did not inquire about the Rangers health."

An ironic grin appears.

"Like he needed to. The Royals are enormous experts with determination; a secret is not really possible in constant presence of them."

One of his leaders words amuses Vaultric; so much so it captures his imagination.

"We definitely caused them substantial pain. Clearly, me and Crius are on the same page as the minimum requirement when dealing with perpetrators,… intruders,… enemies."

Hand bends inward and are placed behind the head, body leans back in the not most health position.

"One thing is great – Polus's hit will achieve the necessary reaction from the Rangers. Hubris or, more plainly, overconfidence. They can easily take the hit as an overcoming obstacle and continue to show up against the Royals, regardless of how impeccable and astounding their timing is. It would be all the greater if they evaluate our leaders as barely stronger than us. Then…"

A malicious, devious facial expression is constructed.

"…They are all but finished."

Eyes look up, unprecedented pity towards the Power Rangers manifest in his psyche. The enthusiastic mindset, safeness of the current situation, last sight of Crius – all of it allows the emotion to become prominent for a bit. The person softly inquires:

"How do you even plan… on bruising their skin?"