Author's Note: Though technically a prequel, it is recommended you read up to chapter 62-63 before reading this chapter for full context.

In a facility somewhere in Japan, middle school students from all over the country have been chosen to join a special program where they will train to become the ultimate player. This program, created and funded by Garshield Industries, is a hidden endeavor designed to uncover the true potential of those hand-picked by the Holy Emperor himself. Here, they work together and against one another, with those lucky enough to be recognized becoming part of his personal team. But none of that matters without extra incentive, and what better incentive is there other than to crush Raimon, a team said to have some of the world's best in youth football?

In the canteen, a petite young boy with stringy yellow hair pokes at the custard pudding with his spoon. His friend was taking too long in the lunch queue, and he's losing patience by the second. Eventually, he gives up and starts digging into it.

"Can I sit here," a tiny voice asks as an equally tiny finger points at the seat next to him. The blond boy looks up and sees another kid, even shorter than himself, with white hair reminiscent of seafoam waves. He nods, and the stranger plops himself down and immediately starts chatting while mowing down his hearty meal. "I saw you out on the courtyard earlier today, 'n' I saw you tearin' them 'bots apart 'n' I was like 'WOAH'! And so I went 'n' tried myself..." The smaller boy speaks with an odd dialect, as if everyday is "Talk Like a Pirate Day" or something. The blond boy, initially unsure how to deal with this bundle of energy, quickly becomes engaged in the conversation, despite not getting much of a word in. After giving him an earful, he calms down and says, "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. Name's Marley Hookson, but you can call me Marley."

"Bayonet Gunne. You can call me Gunne."

"Can I call you Bay instead? I like the sound of that better."

Gunne becomes flustered. The only other person who calls him that is Flam, and that's because he felt the most comfortable around him. But this kid feels special somehow, almost as if they were fated to meet. After a second's thought, he grins and replies, "Only if I can call you May."

Marley's eyes shimmer with ecstasy. "We'll be like twins! Best mates in the sea!"

They clasp hands and engage in a joyful jig until a deeper voice stops them in their tracks. "Made a new friend, huh? That was quick."

Gunne, recognizing the voice, swiftly turns around to scold him. "Yeah, cus you were taking too long, so I made a new best friend."

His friend, a tall, lanky young man with wavy, orange hair, brushes off the comment and takes a seat next to Gunne, setting down the tray in his hands. "Not gonna argue with that logic. Shorties gotta stick together, right?"

The blond kid makes a pouty face. "Well, this shorty can kick your butt any day of the week."

"Whatever you say, kid."

Marley giggles, enjoying watching the two squabble, when another voice gives him reason to turn around. "Marley, there you are." Standing near him is a young man with teal dreadlocks and a serious look behind his beady eyes. "Davy 'n' I've been lookin' for you. They're callin' us over for you-know-what." Both Marley and Bay give worried glances to each other; while the latter is not sure what "you-know-what" is referring to, the expression on his new friend's face does not reassure him. "C'mon, we don't got all day." Without hesitation, the dreadlocked boy grabs Marley by the wrist and drags him away.

Watching this commence, Flam mutters, "I've heard rumors about it, but I never thought they might be true."

Confused, Bay asks, "What rumors?"

"It's probably got nothing to do with them, but word's been going around talking about what they call a 'trinity'—a fusion between three individuals instead of the usual two. It's been said that those involved in one are at least twice as powerful as those involved in a typical fusion."

"What about if a person was in a two-part fusion, but changed to a different partner?"

"Hard to say for sure. Most users typically stick with one partner. The physical and mental strain is enough to turn most away from the idea." A pause, then: "You aren't thinking of fusing with that Pirates Cove kid, are you?"

Gunne, flustered, vigorously shakes his head. "Of course not! I was just curious…"

"I'm not saying it's wrong for you to want to fuse with him. Just a warning to be careful. When you fuse with someone, you gain part of everything from them. Temperament, memories... even physical traits, if you stay fused long enough." He ruffles his straw-like hair with a wry grin. "You've grown a couple of inches, haven't you? You better thank me for that." Gunne laughs as he brushes Flam's hand away. "What I'm saying is, if you do decide to take that next step, think long and hard about who you do it with. It's a choice that will affect you for the rest of your life, so you'd better commit to it." He passes a plate of custard pudding from his tray to Bay's.

As he eats the pudding by the spoonful, he looks around, inspecting the crowd for more familiar faces. "Speaking of partners, I haven't seen Howie or Dirk lately. Have you?"

"Not since they entered Phase Two."

"I hope Dirk's alright. Howie's a real jerk!"

"They'll get by somehow. How else would they have lasted this long together?" Gunne starts pouting once again. "Look, I know you don't support their relationship—I don't think any of us did—but this is what they wanted. We have no choice but to accept it." From beneath his overgrown bangs, his eyes look down sullenly as he mutters, "That's just the way life works sometimes."

"I know, but still..." His small brows furrow anxiously. "I just hope he'll be okay." Just as he finishes his last spoonful, a distant whistle blows, and someone calls out their names. They clear the dishes from their hands and step towards the whistle-blower, who escorts them down into the basement level...

A loud slap echoes throughout the dark hall. A boy with pine green hair winces as he instinctively covers his mutilated face. Standing above him is his partner, leering down with two-colored eyes. Those eyes—frightening as they can be—are the most handsome part of his severely deformed face. The green-haired boy whimpers apologies, which fall upon deaf ears as he is beaten.

"This is all your fault," his partner shouts while grabbing him by the collar and shaking him. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

"Howie—"

He throws him against the wall. "Don't call me that! The one you call 'Howie' is dead." He looms closer, his twisted features inches away from his own. "Look at me. You killed your lover, and now you must pay for your sin." His hand tightens around his throat. "Now, say our name. The one given to us by the Elder Gods. Say it!"

While he struggles for freedom, the pine-haired boy chokes out, "Gh... Ghatanothoa."