Not a single soul was to be found among the subspace arena's borderline innumerable seats. And yet the air was about as tense with anticipation as it possibly could be. Right now there was still about half an hour left until the eager onlookers would be let in - half an hour before the blazing conclusion of the tournament would kick off. The term "calm before the storm" couldn't have been more fitting.
The last few hours had been busy for contestants and audience alike; the latter had been swarming the former for autographs, pictures and countless proclamations of being their biggest fan. And while some had clearly enjoyed the adoration - the likes of Alva, Ashes and especially the finalist Prime had eagerly addressed their fanclubs - most of them had quickly done everything in their power to stay out of the blinding spotlight. It had eventually resulted in the tournament's security staff having to step in to allow the mostly overwhelmed contestants to retreat to safety, leaving them all to catch their breaths and gather their thoughts. Or, in the case of the two finalists, getting all of their preparations in order.
"There, that should be everything. That's about as ready as I can possibly be, I suppose."
With the legion of fans wanting to get close to their superstar, Pulse hadn't had much time at all to get everything prepared. But with the Photon Shield in working order, her G.U.N. fully loaded and the Photon Field rods, the turret and her purposefully held-back trump card stashed into her Bag of Holding the Drow was now all set. Now she just needed to make sure she was mentally prepared; a tall order, given what was coming right up. The sheer stress of having to address thousands of fans at once certainly didn't help matters either.
"Are you sure? You look a bit unwell, are you certain you don't want me to take a look at you?"
Being a cleric and all, Vuzrak was well-used to healing allies' wounds and handling diseases. So the fact that he didn't pick up on his daughter's nervousness, or at least confused it with those kinds of ailments, was proof of either his obliviousness or his worrywart fatherly nature. Although most people who knew him would tell you it was both. The older Drow almost reflexively raised his hand towards his daughter's forehead as if to check her temperature; a gesture that Pulse gently revoked by grabbing his wrist.
"No, no I'm fine. It's just classic nervousness, you know? Like just a few days ago I was certain I'd lose this whole thing in a matter of seconds, and now I'm suddenly in the finals to face off against fighting spirit personified. I'm… still trying to process that. Plus, you saw all the people out there wanting to get a piece of me. There's a looot of expectations to live up to" the mechanic sighed.
Vuzrak let out a sigh of clear relief upon hearing his daughter wasn't suffering from anything worse than that. Of course, nervousness wasn't always as easily fixed as a fever or a fractured bone. Still, he had a duty to fulfil as a father to help out his flesh and blood in any way he could. But before he could answer Pulse with some reaffirming encouragement, she beat him to it.
"But I got this, don't worry. I've taken notes about this guy and all his fancy techniques, I have an estimate of his strength and speed and as I said I have every single tool at my disposal accounted for. And most of all, I have a reason to win this. I'm not gonna let some nerves get the better of me!" the young Drow reassured her father.
The cleric let out a warm chuckle as he put a hand on Pulse's shoulder. He'd only really known her for a couple days, but during that short time she'd proven countless times that she'd inherited the family drive to do whatever she put her mind to. That part she'd gotten from him, that was certain. Although that meticulousness, her unflinching tenacity to form schemes and plans with the smallest of details accounted for… that part was almost scarily similar to her mother. Vuzrak shook off his hint of unease - there were far worse qualities she could have inherited than that, after all.
"Of course, I'm not doubting that even for a second. Just don't forget to give everything you have. I will always have the utmost pride in you no matter what happens, so all I'll ask of you now is to put on a performance that you yourself will be proud of. Can you do that?" Vuzrak replied in a warm but serious tone.
Pulse simply flashed a confident smile; that question was very easy to answer.
"You bet! I'm gonna hit that big-brained Drow with everything I've got!"
Over in the opposing waiting room, a very similar conversation was taking place. But where Pulse had done her best to remain clear-headed and collected, her upcoming opponent was as fiery and pumped as ever. They might both have been determined to win, but Prime's excitement was far more obvious.
"Glad to hear it, buddy. Just be careful not to underestimate her. I have absolutely no doubts that you can go all the way, but - like I just said - Pulse might be even smarter than I am. If I were you I'd keep my guard up the whole time, or this might be over faster than you could say 'Cross Slicer'."
As Abigail offered some words of advice to her creation in preparation for the final battle, she suddenly noticed some of the excitement in his movements dying down a little. She wasn't the best at reading people and Prime even lacked a face which to emote with, but he was still like a brother to her. She could immediately tell that something she'd just said had hit a nerve, so to speak.
"Sorry, did I say something wrong?" the Half-Orc said with a not so subtle hint of concern.
Prime firmly shook his head to make it clear that no, she hadn't. But given his uncharacteristically serious tone as he replied to her, it was obvious that what weighed on his mind did so heavily.
"Nah, it's nothing serious. Don't get me wrong, my heart would be beating so damn fast right now if I had one. I'm gonna go out there to the final round and I'm gonna have an absolute blast, I'm sure of that! But the moment one of us wins… then that's it. We're gonna be back home and we're gonna tell your kid all about all the fun we've had, but after that I'm gonna end up stuck. You and I got picked to fight here in the name of Universe 6 or whichever one we were - wouldn't that imply that we're the best that corner of space has to offer? And thus, that there would be nobody left for me to try and surpass?" the somewhat solemn construct answered.
Abigail could only sit there in silence. Of course Prime would be feeling bittersweet; if he did become the best of the best in his universe, then he'd have no reason to seek out stronger opponents anymore. A devastating realisation for one who lived to fight, that was certain. But eventually the mechanic smiled; she did have a good answer to bring him out of his contemplation.
"Right… I can understand that. I guess that's the ugly side of striving for a goal - when you reach it, things just seem like they have no meaning. I did feel something similar when you turned out a success, believe it or not. Where do you go next after creating life out of nothing but metal and magic? I'll tell you what you do; you don't cry because it's over, you smile because it happened. Only when you can do that can you find something new to strive for!" Abigail exclaimed.
But shortly after Prime had registered this life lesson and his yellow visor had widened in seeming realisation, the duo could hear noises outside the room. Shuffling of feet, murmurs and the occasional hushing. And whereas Prime simply cautiously but curiously peered towards the closed door, his creator just smiled even wider. If anything other than a pep talk could help Prime with his little crisis, it was the little druid's plan. It was about time to give the signal.
"Alright everyone: NOW!"
At that moment all pretences of peace and tranquillity were lost as 6 people burst into the room; people who Prime had - for the most part - gotten to know very well. His cherished rival, the jovial soldier from the first round, the colossal holy man from the second, his two fellow robotic warriors and even a heavily bandaged diminutive professor had made their entrance. All but the last one loudly exclaiming the same thing in tune with Abigail beside him.
"GO PRIME! GO PRIME! GO PRIME! GO PRIME!"
The otherwise so bombastic robot was left utterly speechless. He wasn't too surprised to see Goh'ji show up to cheer him on for the finals, but all the others? All of them here for his sake? His previous hint of melancholy was all gone, completely replaced by his usual fired-up self. If a bit confused.
"Wha… I… Uuuh… What?! What's all this? Are all of you here to cheer me on?" the automaton stuttered.
As if amused by Prime's surprise, Morgan was the first to take tone as petals filled the air around them like confetti - courtesy of Bastion's natural magic.
"Bwahaha! We sure are, my friend! Young Miss Root had the idea to give both you and your opponent the biggest cheer of your lives before this grand conclusion, and what a splendid idea if I do say so myself!" Morgan bellowed.
"The others are over in the other waiting room to cheer on Miss Pulse, so we'll have to be enough. But I, for one, am glad to show my respect to such a valiant fighter here in the finals!" Owen followed up with, his enthusiasm almost matching Morgan's. As he did, a small scrawny figure cautiously walked up to the still stunned Prime.
"Look, I don't really know you and you don't really know me. But just know that between you and the artificer, I'm gonna back you up all the way. Construct to construct, you know?" Bastion muttered.
Being the sullen loner that she was, the little druid hadn't managed to make many friends outside of the notably outgoing Root and Ashes. Her being here was the result of a goal she'd set for herself; if the people around her could change for the better, then so could she. And the first step for that was to reach out to new people independent of the two friends she'd made. But before she could wait for a response or figure out what to say next, yet another voice made itself heard. A very deep and monotone one.
"Assertion: The number of contestants that formed the decision to support Pulse Cadwalader is 7. The number of contestants that formed the decision to support AHN-001 was 6. Therefore, to confirm that the amount of supporters on each side became even, I formed the decision to give aid in enhancing your morale. That will yield the most likely result of ensuring that this protocol will be fulfilled" Inferno bluntly laid out.
Both Abigail and Bastion let out a sigh upon hearing this - could that automaton have been any straighter to the point? However, nobody in the room paid attention to their assertion for long. A certain reptilian martial artist was making his way towards Prime, and given the glint in the steel-clad warrior's eyes they'd probably do best to keep silent.
"So this is it; the final battle. You've managed to convince me, those men over there and everyone who has come to support you that you are the greatest fighter there is" Goh'ji said, pointing over to Morgan and Owen behind him as he did so.
"All that's left now is to prove that strength once and for all, so all may know! And we will cheer you on as you do just that! Win this contest, Prime - that should be the least my greatest rival could accomplish!" he continued, his yellow eyes lighting up in pure respect as he reached out his clawed hand.
Prime accepted the gesture without hesitation. Right now his little crisis was all but forgotten, and had instead been replaced by sheer gratitude and excitement. He fiercely pulled his rival in closer, intently staring him in the eyes as he did so. As the duo shared another burning stare of mutual respect, Prime spoke up to address everyone in the room.
"Guys, thank you all so much for this! I mean, after hearing all that how could I possibly lose now? So don't worry - I'm gonna give this everything I've got, and prove that you chose to back the right warrior! Including you, little fella; you're the last person I expected to see here!" Prime cheerfully exclaimed, aiming his last sentence towards the grumpy Kobold who had yet to speak.
Suddenly the otherwise high spirits rapidly dropped, replaced by an awkward tension born of a sentence that up until now had been desperately avoided. Professor Suss took a look around him, as if to confirm that nobody was going to talk over him yet again. With a resounding clearing of his throat, the wizard made his intentions clear.
"I'm going to be frank here, metal man. I am not here to see you win - I simply want that elven punk to lose. For you see, she and that lousy father of hers had the gall to insult me and my accomplishments! For that, I want you to give her the most intense of beatings so that my name wi- what is happening? Put me down, you puffed-up hulk! How dare you do this to a prof…"
In the middle of his rant, the professor had found himself picked up by the collar by a sighing Owen and carried out to the corridor. The others in the room all let out a sigh of relief as well; any longer spent with that Kobold and someone would've definitely been pushed over the edge.
"Let's just… all agree that never happened" Prime bluntly stated.
The rest of the room collectively nodded, and by the time Owen came back the air was filled by excited chatter. And by the time the arena outside had been filled up and Prime eagerly headed out to fight, the awkwardness left by the professor's rant was all but forgotten. The hot-blooded construct, aided by friends old and new, couldn't have entered the fight in higher spirits if he tried.
"GO PULSE! GO PULSE! GO PULSE! GO PULSE!"
Not long after Prime's cheering squad had made their entrance, the other 6 contestants had done the same for Pulse. And just like with the Metal Ranger, their recipient was left in stunned shock.
"Wha- hold up, what's this? All of you came to… to cheer me on? I-I don't know what to say… dad, was this your idea?" the flabbergasted Drow stuttered, clearly fighting a losing battle to contain a massive warm smile.
Vuzrak simply shook his head with an unfettered warm smile of his own. Instead he simply motioned over to the practically bouncing Root who was quickly running over towards his daughter.
"Nope, this one's from me! I thought you and Mr. Prime would appreciate the rest of us backing you up before we all go home, so I gathered everyone and well, here we are!" the druid rapidly explained.
She suddenly lunged out with her hands to gently clasp Pulse's own, a gesture which the flustered inventor made no moves to resist. As the Genasi let out a small giggle, the amused figures behind her started to move closer as well. Ironically enough it was the Tortle who came close enough to take tone first.
"Quite the wonderful idea, I have to say. And I, for one, will make sure to root for my home universe as much as I can. If anyone can bring home the gold, I can't think of a better representative than you!" Gameron chuckled.
The shelled wizard was most likely the only contestant in the tournament whose main motivation had been simple patriotism. No personal pride, no selfless desires and no lust for battle egging him on, just the idea of his home universe winning the contest of contests. His choice on who to support when Root had approached him had thus been obvious. And as these thoughts went through his head he took a step back - a tall red figure was about to speak.
"This feller here has a point, partner. It was either gonna be you or me out there, and if ya ask me I'd say you're a much better fit to handle that greased lightning. I'm like a hog lookin' at a wristwatch when it comes to machines, but you're probably the biggest tech whiz I've ever met! If anyone here can handle that Prime feller, I'd say it's you!" Ashes heartily exclaimed as she went right up to the still flustered Pulse.
Mere hours ago, these two had been fighting each other with all they could muster; something that didn't fail to escape Pulse's mind. But given just how cheery the huge Tiefling was, you'd be forgiven for thinking they were longtime friends with not even the smallest issues. The mechanic let out a heartfelt small laugh in the face of Ashes' camaraderie, before turning her attention to the next contestant to offer their support. And as this one was much bigger than even Ashes, she had to turn her head upwards by quite a bit.
"So, big girl, do you remember what I told you after our fight? The whole thing about me not accepting losing to anyone here except the best? Well, I meant every word. You'd better show that metal twig just what you're made of, or I'll have to demand a rematch!" Alva laughed, slamming Pulse on the back all the while.
The gesture had been intended as just a friendly jab, but this was still a smack coming from Alva's gargantuan arm - Pulse was sent face-first onto the hard floor. Since the Half-Orc quickly stopped laughing, not to mention how the room-wide alarm and concern filled the air, it was apparent she hadn't expected that to happen. But luckily for the dazed inventor, a helpful hand reached out to help her up. Albeit a hand attached to quite the snapping owner.
"Watch it bae, you wanna break her spine before the match even starts? …Sorry 'bout that, red. Alva can sometimes forget her own strength, but I guess you of all people already know that. You alright?" Molly exclaimed as she hoisted Pulse up from the floor.
The Dwarf had mostly gone along with Root's idea because her compatriot Alva had agreed to it, but this moment she had a lot more sympathy towards Pulse than to her own better half. The two roughnecks' relationship might've blossomed incredibly fast - they'd already shared a night together after only three days of knowing each other - but that didn't mean that Molly lacked any frustrations regarding the Half-Orc. Still, she couldn't stay mad for too long. She did only have a day at most left with this wonderful babe, and spending too much of that time being mad wasn't the way to go.
"Huungh… yeah, I think so. Thanks… Molly, was it? That girlfriend of yours is inhumanly strong, so please keep an eye on her, would you?" the Drow murmured.
With a still aching back, Pulse got back onto the seat as the people in the room began to scold the somewhat sheepish Alva. Which, to the former at least, was quite an amusing sight. But while that was going on in the background, the inventor could feel a tap on her shoulder. Thus she turned around to face the last of her supporters; a visibly flustered one at that.
"I… I just wanted to say good luck out there, P-Pulse… i-if you're okay with me calling you that…" a red-cheeked John stuttered.
The thin Tiefling's obvious emotional state left Pulse quite shocked to say the least. John might've been a decent liar usually, but his red face and nervousness made his - even to him - unexpected attraction towards the one just a metre in front of him very clear. Something Pulse had little to no experience with given her history. The Drow was left stuttering herself; how was she supposed to handle this? She was flattered, sure, but with no real mutual feelings what could she even say next?
"Uuh… thanks. I'll-" was all that the inventor could say before help arrived.
"Now now John, I'm certain that Pulse needs a moment to calm down a bit and get ready for her big fight. Maybe let her be alone with her thoughts for a while?"
Vuzrak's intervention couldn't have been timelier. Pulse let out a small sigh of relief as the nervous John gave a quick apology, before scurrying away to the other side of the room. As soon as he was out of hearing range, the Drow was quick to thank her dad for the rescue.
"Phewh, thanks a lot dad. I really don't need to think about unrequited crushes right now" the inventor exhaled.
"Glad I could help out, my daughter. But did you at least get his letter address first?" Vuzrak cheekily replied.
Now it was Pulse's turn to become red-faced. The young Drow suddenly turned embarrassed beyond belief - and most of all fearful that John had overheard that.
"DAD! Shut up! Don't say that, cripes!" Pulse violently hushed.
Vuzrak smirked like he had just told the grandest and most clever joke in the multiverse. Abigail was right; embarrassing your child was indeed amusing. But now that he'd gotten to do it once, he could get serious again; he did have a time limit for how long he could see Pulse after all. Better not waste it on making her frustrated with him.
"Excuse me, I couldn't resist. But enough about that for now, what I came to check was how you're feeling. Sudden festivities like these can be quite overwhelming. So, barring this little incident, are you alright? Or did we go too far with this surprise?"
the cleric asked with the usual fatherly worry in his voice.
The smiling Pulse shook her head almost immediately. She looked over to where the others had been scolding Alva, a situation that now appeared to have been defused as the group was laughing in amusement - judging by Ashes' violent pained waggling of her hand and Alva's confused look, it appeared the former had attempted the same gesture that the latter had used towards Pulse. Just against a much tougher target. She looked over to John shakingly glancing at her from the corner, only to quickly look towards the ground when he noticed she saw it. The Drow had to admit - he did look cute doing that. She looked back to her careful father, still awaiting a response. That response was very clear.
"Honestly, I couldn't be better. I'll have to remember to thank Root for this, it was… heartwarming. These are some damn fine people, and I'm glad they all wanted to come hype me up before all hells break loose" Pulse replied.
Vuzrak warmly chuckled. Like so many times before, his worries had been unwarranted. He pulled his daughter towards him in a big embrace, and like always she didn't resist in the slightest.
"I'm really glad to hear that, nothing makes me happier than seeing you content like this. You deserve this, all of it."
As he ended the hug, the cleric quickly looked around to confirm that nobody was listening in on them. When it became clear that yes, the others did let them have their father-daughter moment, he silently whispered into Pulse's ear. There was still one matter to confirm.
"By the way… have you told them about your goal yet? I believe they would all appreciate the thought immensely" Vuzrak quietly asked.
Pulse simply smirked as she shook her head.
"Nah, I'm gonna wait until the fight's over. If I end up losing I can't keep that kind of promise, so I thought it'd be better if I kept it a surprise. That way nobody will end up with too high hopes, and therefore end up disappointed if it doesn't pan out" the inventor answered in a similarly hushed tone.
Vuzrak's steady nod indicated that he'd understood. Pulse did feel grateful - indebted, even - to the people she'd met here after all. She was going to win for her own sake for certain, but almost as much she was going to win so she could give her new comrades what they all deserved. Even the ones she hadn't gotten to know at all. But for that she needed that prize at the end of it all, and to get that she still had to overcome the single most battle-ready fighter in the whole contest. All the more reason to be as prepared as possible.
About ten minutes of cheerful chatting and rousing chants later, the arena outside had been filled to the brim and Googlorp was starting up his ultimate speech. And just like her upcoming opponent, Pulse was walking through the corridor towards the arena in high spirits. She was going to fight for glory, vindication and for the friends she'd met who cheered her on with all they had. With them at her back, how could she possibly lose?
Prime was about to burst at the seams in excitement as he ran through the opposing corridor. In just a few moments, the final battle would commence. And he was ready. He was going to fight for the ultimate thrill, fulfilment and for the friends who believed in him with every fibre of their being. With them at his back, how could he possibly lose?
The two greatest warriors of the multiverse were about to collide.
"LADIES! GENTLEMEN! EVERYONE! ARE YOU ALL READY TO RUMBLE ONE LAST TIME?!"
The audience's screams and cheers could be heard all across the subspace pocket, so the answer to Googlorp's question was obvious. This fight was what the whole contest had been building up to - you could excuse the crowd for being just a little excited. Of course, nobody had as much gusto or enthusiasm in their voice as the blue Plasmoid with the well-used microphone.
"THROUGHOUT THESE LAST FEW DAYS, WE HAVE SEEN A LITTLE BIT OF EVERYTHING! WE'VE WITNESSED A WOMAN BEING CUT IN HALF, WE'VE BEHELD A HALF-ORC BEING SHOT OUT OF THE SKY AND WE'VE OBSERVED TWO RIVALS ALMOST SMASHING EACH OTHER TO PIECES! ALL OF IT BUILDING UP TO THIS MAIN EVENT: THE FINALS OF THE MULTIVERSAL TOURNAMENT! TWO FIGHTERS STILL STAND, BUT AT THE END OF THIS ONE SHALL FALL! ONLY THE GREATEST IN THE MULTIVERSE WILL REMAIN!" Googlorp loudly laid out.
Either the gelatinous announcer had a way with words or the audience were just easily fired up, but the 250.000+ strong crowd were about as excited as ever. Logically the number of people who would have passed out from exhaustion or lost their voice by now should've been higher, actually.
"AND WHAT WILL THIS ULTIMATE CHAMPION RECEIVE AT THE END, OTHER THAN EVERLASTING GLORY AND ADORATION? WHY, NOTHING ELSE BUT THE GRANDEST PRIZE ANYONE COULD EVER ASK FOR! PEOPLE OF THE MULTIVERSE… FEAST YOUR EYES ON THIS!"
Once more every light fixture in the arena shifted their focus towards the main viewing screen. And what everyone saw displayed on it was about as visually underwhelming as it gets. The grand reward for winning the tournament was… a regular sealed scroll made out of old paper. And yet, even as an image shown on a screen, the magical energies emanating from it was intense. It was enough for the more magically inclined audience members to physically feel its pressure. Whatever was contained within that scroll, it was beyond common sense.
"THIS SCROLL MIGHT BE ONE OF THE RAREST ITEMS IN ALL THE UNIVERSES - IT TOOK OUR STAFF OVER A DECADE JUST TO LOCATE IT! BUT NOW IT'S HERE, JUST WAITING FOR A CHAMPION TO CLAIM ITS LIMITLESS POWER! SO WHAT DO YOU SAY, FOLKS? LET'S BEGIN THE DECISIVE BATTLE ALREADY, SHALL WE?" Googlorp finished.
The answer was loud and clear. The people had waited long enough; they wanted to see the final battle unfold.
"IT SEEMS THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN! IN THAT CASE… LET THE FINALS OF THE MULTIVERSAL TOURNAMENT COMMENCE!"
As the crowd around him cheered once again, the Plasmoid kept a watchful eye on the blue corner's entrance while scurrying for his written notes. Just this once he wanted to finish his introduction before being interrupted.
"IN THE B-"
Of course, that just wasn't gonna happen. The metal swordfighter of Universe 6 entered the battlefield with the flashiest frontflip he was capable of, backed by the illusion of a huge explosion of orange smoke. As soon as he landed, he began to shout one last self-presenting speech. All the while performing as many overdramatic poses as he possibly could.
"SPIRIT DRAGONS… UNBRIDLED MUSCLE POWER… LIGHTNING ITSELF… NONE COULD OVERCOME THIS BURNING SPIRIT! WHATEVER STANDS IN MY WAY WILL FIND ITSELF UTTERLY OVERWHELMED BY THIS STEEL WARRIOR'S SHEER DRIVE TO WIN! I WILL FACE THIS ELVEN GENIUS WITH MY FULL STRENGTH, AND I WILL STAND VICTORIOUS! PRIME, THE METAL RANGER! HOOHAH!"
One holographic explosion later, the audience similarly exploded into approving cheers and chants. Half the arena must have been shouting his name in unison; just like the other contestants, the observers appeared to be split 50-50 regarding who they wanted to see prevail. However, there was at least one among the many watchers who felt at least some frustration at Prime's larger-than-life announcement.
"(Sigh), he did it again. I-I MEAN, YOU HEARD HIM, FOLKS! AFTER CUTTING THROUGH CONTESTANT MORGAN, TEARING CONTESTANT OWEN OPEN AND TOPPLING CONTESTANT GOH'JI, THE VALIANT IRON FIGHTER NOW STANDS BEFORE US UPON THE DECISIVE STAGE! HE'S COME A LONG WAY - CAN HE GO THE FINAL DISTANCE? THE FIRST FINALIST, THE METAL RANGER OF UNIVERSE 6: CONTESTAAAANT PRIME!"
Prime either didn't notice the announcer's frustration or he didn't care; right now he was just taking in all the cheers. He wasn't much for the glory or the people's adoration… but he had to admit, this felt pretty nice. So many people were sharing his desire for a good fight to take place. It was enough to make him stop posing and just stand still overlooking the audience for a few seconds. But eventually he snapped back to reality; the spotlights were focusing in on the opposing gate. The automaton excitedly grinned - or would have if he'd had a mouth - as the tall shapely silhouette of his opponent slowly came into view.
"AND IN THE RED CORNER, THE DETERMINED ELVEN THINKER MAKES THE TOURNAMENT'S LAST ENTRANCE! SHE HAS TORN THROUGH CONTESTANT ALVA, TRIUMPHED OVER CONTESTANT VUZRAK AND OUTLASTED CONTESTANT ASHES, BUT NOW SHE ONLY HAS ONE OBSTACLE LEFT TO OVERCOME! WILL IT BE HER BRILLIANT STRATEGIES AND TOOLS THAT WILL BRING FORTH THE FATEFUL ULTIMATE RESULT? THE SECOND FINALIST, THE PRODIGAL INVENTOR OF UNIVERSE 1: CONTESTAAAANT PULSE!"
Another wave of cheers surged through the arena as Pulse slowly but surely entered the stage. And unlike Prime, she took great joy in all the adoration; it was more or less what she'd originally sought out, after all. But now that she'd gotten what she herself wanted more than anything, all that was left was to strive for what she wanted for her supporting friends. The fire inside the Drow burned as brightly as ever. At least she could enjoy and take in this moment of love and adoration, before the time to let said fire loose would come. Pulse spent a few moments eagerly waving and even blowing a playful kiss or two towards the audience, before finally coming face to face with the fired-up Prime.
"So, this is it, huh? Just us two left. I don't think I'll need to say this, but no hard feelings no matter the result right?" Pulse said somewhat quietly.
Her opponent let out a quick laugh clearly born from excitement.
"Hah, are the lights in the sky stars? Of course no hard feelings! I don't know about you, but I'm gonna have the time of my life; nothing more, nothing less. But don't think that means I'll go easy on you!" Prime responded.
Pulse hadn't heard that saying before; must have been something only said in Universe 6. But she didn't get herself hung up on that for long, instead merely responding with another wide smile.
"So, did the others surprise you as well? I heard from my… 'fanclub', for lack of a better word, that the rest were gonna get you all hyped up for this too" the Drow curiously asked.
Prime might not have had a face, but he didn't need one to show the honest joy seeping through him as the question reached his audio receptors.
"Yeah. Yeah they did. There's some damn good people out there in the multiverse, you know that? I couldn't have asked for a better squad to push me forward" the robot replied in an unusually blissful tone.
"Took the words right out of my mouth there, bud. So what do you say, shall we get going? And see who shines brightest in the multiverse, if you excuse my poetry?" Pulse finished, a hint of eagerness slipping through her proposal.
Prime's calm contentment immediately flipped over to his usual battle-hungry exhilaration. Judging by his quick answer he did, in fact, excuse Pulse's poetry.
"You read my mind, pal! Let's settle this, no holding anything back!"
"Let's."
As Pulse ended the pre-fight banter with one single word, the arena stands fell almost completely silent while the two fighters turned around to get into position. The atmosphere was so tense you could almost taste it; if anyone thought any moment was charged before, it was nothing compared to this.
The Drow mentally went through all her plans again as she tightened her shield. The robot jogged in place as if warming up while cracking - or rather, recalibrating - his knuckles. The other contestants held their breaths over in the watching area. Even Googlorp appeared to be frozen in place in eager anticipation. But eventually, he snapped back to reality. And right as he did he uttered the words to ring in the contest's final spectacle.
"3!"
"2!"
"1!"
"FINALISTS… BEGIN!"
Five multicoloured explosions lit up the starry sky, signifying that this was it. The final battle had officially begun.
"Hope you're ready, 'cause here I come!" Prime exclaimed.
The metal martial artist started off the match by charging in towards Pulse with his arms in front of him, once more foregoing to draw his swords. To him going all out from the start was a waste, even in such an important battle as this. A facet of his personality that made Pulse confidently smile as she activated her flashlight and with that her Photon Shield; the robot had acted just like she'd expected him to. The inventor planted her feet as she held up her shield towards the rapidly approaching Prime, fully prepared to repel his headstrong rush.
But upon seeing his opponent take up this defensive manoeuvre, Prime simply snickered. He might've been reckless, but he wasn't an idiot - of course Pulse would have a plan for such an attack. Therefore he was going to do what she least expected. Right before reaching the guarding mechanic, Prime suddenly turned left. And instead of testing his mettle against the glowing shield he bolted around it, just out of reach from a possible counterbash, until he was standing right behind her. Her back was left wide open - something the steel fighter was about to take full advantage of.
"Gotcha! HYAH!"
With a sharp battle cry, Prime threw his iron fist straight into Pulse's lower spine. But to the robot's surprise, the Drow sported a knowing smirk on her face as she turned her head. He'd been expecting to not deal any real damage - she did wield a force field, after all. What had really caught him off guard was that she hadn't been. Almost as if she knew his real plan of attack from the start. But the surprise didn't end yet. Prime only had time to look towards his foe's free hand before the sharp pain hit him.
"You're gonna have to get a little more creative than that, my guy!"
[BANG!]
The martial artist had been too distracted by the undamaged Pulse's quip to notice the upside-down revolver in her metallic right hand. And now he paid the price - in the form of agonising pain taking root in his crotch. She had taken the weapon out while he was trying to flank her from her left. Prime's hands immediately went to cover his aching nether regions; even if he as a robot didn't have any privates to speak of, he still had pain receptors to register being shot.
"GnngghhooOOWW!"
Prime let out a loud whimper as he was left stunned in place, the attack lending him audible sympathies from the crowd. But Pulse wasn't about to let him recover. Instead she reared back her shield as much as she could, before slamming it into her opponent with enough amplified force to send him flying backward. The blue-clad warrior hit the dirt without too much damage barring to his pride, whereupon the shock of being shot began to wear off. He was made of steel after all; the bullet hadn't left anything more than a dent in his armour.
With his focus regained and his body metaphorically warmed up, the suddenly serious-faced Prime dramatically unsheathed his blades. He wasn't planning on pulling out all the stops just yet, but with an opponent this clever he couldn't afford to play around for too long. He needed to keep his guard up, and he knew it. And in his experience, the best defence is a good offence. Thus Prime formed his next plan of attack - rush Pulse head on and try to break apart that shield. Just with the added detail of staying alert this time.
"Alright then, how about this? CROSS SLICER!"
The artificial warrior rushed in with both swords crossed in front of him while screaming the name of his attack as loudly as he could. If he wanted to break or at least weaken the Photon Shield, this was his best bet. Next to the Drill Break or Blade Storm at least, but he wasn't about to bet on such risky moves to land. Prime cracked the closest he could muster to a grin; it didn't matter how strong that shield was, if this landed it would be weakened. However, there was just one problem with the fighter's plan. Instead of trying to tank the hit, Pulse deactivated her tool. The mechanic smirked yet again as she, against all expectations, ran straight towards the charging Prime.
The audience was shocked. Googlorp was shocked. The other contestants were shocked. Prime especially was shocked. With his target suddenly close to slashing range much sooner than he'd thought, the robot haphazardly unleashed his attack. Only for his forceful dual slash to hit… nothing. Nothing but a rewinding afterimage left behind by Pulse's well-timed use of the Boots of the Winding Path.
"IT APPEARS CONTESTANT PULSE STARTS OFF WITH COMPLETE CONTROL OVER THE MATCH! NOT ONLY DOES SHE LAND THE FIRST HIT IN THE FORM OF AN UNFORTUNATE COUNTERSHOT, BUT SHE THEN FOLLOWS IT UP WITH ONE HELL OF A FEINT! CAN CONTESTANT PRIME TURN THE TIDE, OR WILL THE WINNER BE DECIDED THIS SOON?"
The Cross Slicer could deal some serious damage if it landed, but the attack's momentum meant that a miss could leave its user wide open. Which, combined with Prime's bewilderment surrounding his opponent's unexpected moves, resulted in the automaton losing his balance almost to the point of tripping. In other words, in the perfect position for Pulse to safely rev up another huge shield bash. The Drow let out a grunt as she put all the power her sleek frame could exert behind the forceful slam.
[WHUMM!]
Prime was once again sent flying before skidding to a halt back-first. This force push had been a fair bit stronger than the previous one, not to mention how he'd been left completely defenceless beforehand. It was enough for his vision to be dimmed to all but the stars swirling around his eyes. With her foe put to the dirt, Pulse quickly grabbed ahold of her backpack. She would only have ten seconds at most before Prime regained his senses, but those seconds would be more than enough. First gadget out of the bag was her trademark turret, all shiny and tuned to its maximum. But the inventor wasn't done quite yet. Next she pulled out the one tool she had saved for last - her hidden ace in the hole. Finally it was time for her sturdy magically infused iron gauntlets to take the stage.
It appeared that the inventor's estimations had been spot on - about ten seconds after impact, Prime had shaken off the effects of the previous attack. He was quite fired up as well, at least if his furiously narrowed optics were any indication. Fine then. If the Cross Slicer wasn't gonna cut it, then he'd just have to try something a bit more blunt. It was quite obvious to him that this probably wasn't the best idea; he'd already been knocked on his iron bum twice in this match, and that was likely going to happen again if he kept rushing in like that. But right now he was a bit too mad to care. He just wanted to get a hit in, consequences be damned.
"Hide behind that thing all you want, I WILL break through it! METAL… KI- YAARGH!"
Prime's defiant rebuttal quickly proved futile. He'd spouted the words while running up towards her before delivering another jump kick, but once again Pulse had gone against his expectations. Instead of blocking the attack with her shield or getting out of the way - reactions which the Metal Ranger had answers to - she had done something he wouldn't have thought possible even in his wildest dreams. The frail inventor had not only effortlessly blocked his kick with one hand, she held him aloft with enough force to cause him great pain.
"Gauntlets of Ogre Power. Thanks to a magical core infused with the biomagic signature of a Hill Ogre, these gauntlets allow the wearer to effectively mimic the creature's muscle strength. Or well, partly at least. I'd estimate these to be able to roughly match Ashes, maybe even our mutual friend Abby. Which is more than enough for me to do, say, something like this!" Pulse confidently explained.
With a hefty grunt, the Drow proceeded to slam her opponent into the ground with enough force to knock up a large dust cloud. And it hurt. Quite a lot. Prime's back felt like it was about to break in half, and although the damage wasn't that dire it was still notable. Pulse's estimation wasn't that far off - other than his earlier fight with Owen and his ill-fated spar with Alva before that, the only time Prime had been hit by this level of strength was in sparring matches with Abigail. And while his creator seemed to be slightly stronger, Pulse's gauntlets were not far behind.
"Hnngh… man, t-that's some power. Did you really put together something like that yourself? And if they're that strong… why hold them back until now?" Prime stuttered.
"Actually, these I found in a marketplace. And as for why… honestly, I didn't think I needed them. So I saved them as an ace up the sleeve for the finals. Besides, Alva would still have been too strong, I was too conflicted to remember bringing them against dad and Ashes would've been too skilled up close for them to make much of a difference. But with you? You might be a damn good fighter, but as long as you keep making such predictable moves you won't be able to match these!" Pulse explained.
Before Prime could answer, the mechanic lifted him up by the back of his gi without any real sort of effort. This was followed by a solid gut punch, the impact alone knocking the robot back almost two metres. Solid pain once again took root in the robot's stomach area, but he was still standing strong. He might've been aching all over and his armour might've been seriously dented, but a punch like that wouldn't be enough to take him down. He was made of sterner stuff than that. Thus, his face once again turned into a fierce scowl as he prepared to lunge again. Before he realised just exactly where he was standing.
[WHUM!]
"WHOA MAMA, THAT'S GOTTA HURT! LOOKS LIKE CONTESTANT PRIME WAS KNOCKED A BIT TOO SENSELESS TO SEE THE TURRET STANDING RIGHT BESIDE HIM! AND NOW HE'S PAYING THE PRIZE! SO FAR CONTESTANT PULSE HAS HELD AN UNSHAKEABLE ADVANTAGE; IS THIS GONNA BE THE END? WILL THE METAL RANGER FIND HIMSELF OUTMATCHED THIS CLOSE TO THE FINISH LINE?"
To be hit by a blast of concussive force is one thing. But to be hit by a blast of concussive force at point-blank range is another. Something Prime had just learned the hard way, leading to him being sent flying for the umpteenth time. And while his air time was somewhat graceful, his landing was anything but. The construct was sent into a violent tumble as he hit the ground hard, his metal body rolling around like a pipe going downhill. As he finally stopped, he slowly staggered up to one knee while assessing the damage; he felt like he'd just been hit by a cannonball. His armour had amassed a serious collection of dents and the occasional hole, his ruptured gut systems meant he was leaking oil from where his mouth would've been and sparks were flying from all over. Not to mention how he'd dropped one of his swords in the crash. In short, this fight had already left him quite beaten up. But the biggest damage had been to his pride.
Prime had launched tactic after tactic towards Pulse - named techniques, well-timed lunges and even cautious feints. And the Drow had not only countered them perfectly, she hadn't taken any visible damage at all. He was well aware of how intelligent she'd proven to be, but did that really translate this well to the battlefield? None of his preceding foes had held this much control over the flow of the fight, and this included Abigail in all of their previous sparring sessions. And now she was about to finish this - Pulse had both her turret and a readied flaming spell pointed straight at him. The metal ranger's chances appeared smaller by the minute.
"Don't make any sudden moves. You might be fast enough to avoid the turret shots, but given your usual movements you can't avoid both that and my Scorching Ray. I know this isn't your preferred way to go out, but I'm still gonna ask you to surrender. Spares you the pain of being blasted again" Pulse coldly stated.
Or maybe the chances weren't quite that minuscule. Prime had seen this behaviour before; unflinching body language, a tone filled with certainty and no hints of doubt. In one word: Overconfidence. If he could just get her to keep talking, then maybe…
"Heh… that's never really been how I roll. Still, I'm impressed. How could you know everything I was gonna do? Can you see the future or something?" Prime asked.
Pulse simply let out a small snicker, her focus on Prime still absolute.
"Nah, you're just that predictable. I've been keeping tabs on basically everyone in the tournament that I could've ended up facing - their strength, top speed, tactics, reaction times, techniques and so on. Which means I know all about how your moves work, and by extension how to counter them. Metal Kick, Blade Storm, Danger Flurry… if it has a name, I have a plan for it. And everything else you could do? Well, it doesn't take a seasoned master to figure that out. You're good, Prime, you really are. You're probably the best straight-up fighter here if you ask me. But you're thinking way too straightforward to be much of a threat to me" Pulse confidently explained.
At first, Prime couldn't help but feel a bit insulted at how lightly the inventor was taking him. But the more he thought about it, he realised that she had a point. Throughout the tournament - heck, even his life - his tactics could be summarised as "rush the opponent head on with the occasional feint thrown in" at the end of the day. And against a simpler, more hotheaded opponent this usually worked. But not everyone was that way. Some people would indeed be able to not only see through his battle style, but also last long enough to counteract it. The swordsman snickered to himself; here, at the very end of the contest, he would have to overcome his weakness once and for all.
"Right… predictable. You mean LIKE THIS? METAL ARROW!" Prime suddenly explosively exclaimed.
Before Pulse could order the turret to fire, she felt a thin blade of steel strike her around her upper chest. And while the force field had prevented any real harm, the sudden shock of this unexpected strike was quite intense. Of course, she had still launched the Scorching Ray as soon as Prime had begun to shout. But with no turret fire to back it up, the spell failed to hit such a fast-moving target. She quickly glanced over back towards Prime, and his straight lowered arm - coupled with the sword clattering to the ground in front of her - told her everything she needed to know. And more alarmingly, the metal ranger was on the move. Fast.
Both the turret and its creator fired as rapidly as possible, but the thrown sword had clearly itself thrown Pulse off-balance. She'd already put away her firearm - it had proven effective for a surprise blow, but not much more - and the ranged spells she did get off missed by a country mile, which meant that all Prime really had to worry about was the magical cannon a few metres away. One combination of speed, skill, agility and a sprinkle of luck later and the robot was right in front of Pulse. And as her scowling opponent reared back his steely arm, the inventor's collected demeanour dropped for the first time in this battle.
[POW!]
Now it was Pulse's turn to be knocked backward by a heavy blow, as Prime's solid uppercut marked the first attack he'd managed to land on her. And while the force field could protect her from most of the damage, it couldn't nullify the force behind the punch. Which meant she stumbled backward, barely managing to stay standing. But Prime wasn't done just yet. His opponent was left reeling - in other words, wide open for a follow-up. Thus the robot let out a fierce battle cry as he launched the strongest drop kick his metal legs were capable of. To crushing results.
"OOMPH!"
Pulse's force field had its strengths and its weaknesses. On one hand, it excelled at deflecting small or sharp objects such as blades, bullets, arrows and standard punches. It had been specifically tailored to handle those things. But that unique composition also meant that heavier, larger blows were handled less well. Such as Ashes' headbutt in the earlier round, and right now Prime's huge drop kick. The Drow fell to her knees coughing as she clutched her stomach, all the air having been knocked clean out of her. Worse, her barrier's shiny light had dimmed considerably - a clear sign that it had weakened. As Pulse struggled to get her mind together, Prime rushed to pick up his dropped swords. Followed by pointing one of them towards his fallen opponent as he began to deliver a monologue of his own.
"Lady, who the hell do you think I am? I've beaten down far worse odds than these, and you know how I did that? By surpassing my own limitations - overcoming my weaknesses - time after time! You claim you've gotten me all figured out, so I guess I'll just have to get unpredictable! Pick yourself up and prepare for a world of pain - I'll show you just what makes me undefeatable!" Prime fiercely declared.
Half the audience had been cheering full-time as Pulse had firmly held the advantage, but those very same people now fell silent as the other half loudly erupted. The worry that dampened their roars were shared with their idol; Pulse's brilliant mind was in a serious state of disarray. It appeared that she'd not only relied far too heavily on her plans and calculations, but also learned nothing from her fight with Ashes. The Drow had underestimated her opponent, and she knew it.
As Pulse slowly rose back to her feet, her mind once again did what it did best: formulate a new plan. But nothing like her usual ones. No thoughts about exploiting openings, setting a trap or tricking her foe to make a mistake. Prime had broken her flow by adapting to her style, so she would have to do the same. Where intellectual thinking wasn't enough to make the cut, maybe on-the-spot impulses would. The Prodigal Inventor was about to start improvising.
At the same time, while Prime meant every word he said he also hadn't said everything. He'd, perhaps willingly, left out the part where he'd forced his mind to calm down and think a bit further ahead. So far, rushing in like usual had only ended in him taking damage - it hadn't been until he concocted a plan of his own in the form of a thrown sword that the tide had turned in his favour. Pulse had proven too big of an obstacle to overcome with his usual style, so he would have to take a page from her book. Where on-the-spot impulses weren't enough to make the cut, maybe intellectual thinking would. The Metal Ranger was about to start strategizing.
With their good friends both old and new at their backs, the final two contestants had begun their decisive clash. And with all the stops pulled out and all regrets put behind them, the ultimate question would soon get its answer. The one to gain the title of greatest in the multiverse, and with it their hearts desire, would soon be revealed.
The Multiversal Tournament had reached its climax.