"WELL THEN, PEOPLE OF THE MULTIVERSE, IT'S TIME! TIME TO FINALLY BEGIN THE LAST ROUND OF THE QUARTERFINALS!"

One would think that three big fights in a row would've been enough to tire out the 250.000 strong audience, but no. They were still cheering their lungs out, and if anyone had in fact had enough it wasn't enough to make any sort of visible difference. Thus when the first contestant made his way out onto the battlefield, he was met with the same level of chants as everyone before him.

"IN THE BLUE CORNER, THE SPECTRAL SENTINEL MAKES HIS COMEBACK! YESTERDAY HE WAS THE WINNER OF BY FAR THE SHORTEST BOUT WE'VE SEEN SO FAR IN THIS COMPETITION, WINNING THE MATCH IN A SINGLE BLOW! BUT TODAY HIS OPPONENT IS LIKELY TO POSE FAR MORE OF A CHALLENGE - LIKE FATHER, LIKE DAUGHTER AFTER ALL! WILL THE LIGHT OF EILISTRAEE HELP HIM PROVE THAT HE'S STILL GOT A FEW TRICKS TO PASS ON, OR WILL HE FIND HIMSELF OBSOLETE IN THE FACE OF THE YOUNGER GENERATION? MAKING HIS ENTRANCE IS: CONTESTAAAANT VUZRAK!"

The long-haired Drow briefly turned to face the roaring crowd with some quick waving and bowing, before shifting his attention forward. If the people watching were happy to see him then that was great, but they weren't why he was here. Vuzrak stood still in the centre of the arena with his ornate spear planted firmly on the ground, his sensitive golden eyes intently following the spotlights now focused on the opposing corner.

"AND IN THE RED CORNER, WE'RE ABOUT TO SEE THE REEMERGENCE OF THE PRODIGAL INVENTOR! THIS YOUNG LADY GAVE US ALL THE SURPRISE OF THE CENTURY BY DEFEATING FAN-FAVOURITE CONTESTANT ALVA IN THE PREVIOUS ROUND, OUTWITTING HER MUCH MORE POWERFUL FOE WITH A FEW HOMEMADE GADGETS AND THE BRAINPOWER TO USE THEM! BUT RIGHT NOW, SHE'S FACING HER OWN FAMILY! WILL SHE BE ABLE TO SHOW HER OLD MAN THAT THE FUTURE IS NOW, OR WILL THE WINNING GENES TURN OUT TO HAVE SKIPPED A GENERATION? THE ONE, THE ONLY: CONTESTAAAANT PULSE!"

The volume was turned up another notch as the crowd eagerly awaited the younger Drow's entrance. Since she'd been the one to defeat the previously expected winner in the first round, Pulse had unwittingly claimed the title of overall crowd favourite. So one could certainly imagine their surprise when nobody exited the corridor. For a brief moment, the entire arena became wrapped in a most awkward silence.

"...LIKE I SAID: CONTESTAAAANT PULSE?"

Part of the audience started to become slightly worried, and that went double for Vuzrak. Why didn't Pulse show herself? Was something wrong? But the remaining part of the crowd were simply getting impatient, slowly but surely starting to chant the artificer's name. Louder and louder, faster and faster, until they finally reached their crescendo as a tall and lean silhouette could be seen against the spotlights. Finally she was here, and judging by the pace she was running at she hadn't planned to let everybody wait like this.

Pulse's makeshift therapy session with Abigail had gone on for longer than she'd planned. She'd expected to simply vent her current issue, not go on to spill practically her entire origin. Although the onlookers seemed to just be happy she was here now, at least if their maintained roaring was anything to go by. But in this moment, they might as well have been completely silent. Because there he was. Her long dead father, standing right there in the flesh. Or well, spirit. He was simply staring her right in the face, albeit with the warmest gaze she'd ever felt. Pulse took a deep breath as she steeled herself; this was it. Time to push past her anxieties and face her lost family.

"Hello, dad" the daughter said as steadfastly as she could.

"Hello, my daughter" the dad warmly responded.

"So, uuuh… I have approximately a million questions to ask you. And that-" Pulse continued, however before she could finish her sentence Vuzrak simply held up his hand.

But his steady yet soft movements told of no rudeness, impatience or malice behind this gesture. Rather it meant something different.

"- can wait until the time you feel is right. Just tell me one thing, Pulse. Do you still desire to win this competition and prove your worth?"

The mechanic fell silent for a moment. On one hand, she was grateful for her dad's statement. There was a time for questions, and right before an official battle wasn't it. If she started asking now, then she wouldn't feel like she'd get everything she wanted to be said out of her system; perhaps Vuzrak knew that. And as for his question Pulse already knew the answer. She'd already gotten past the biggest obstacle in the first round, so if she were to falter now then she'd be nothing more than the failure she'd tried so hard to never be. She would keep going, and that had to include this upcoming fight.

"Yeah. Yeah I do" she eventually whispered.

Vuzrak's immediate response was simply a knowing smile. He could tell that his daughter's sentiment was completely honest, including towards herself. And that was all he needed to know.

"Then I will make you earn that win. I will face you in battle, and I will give everything I have. And I welcome you to do the same. Don't worry about holding anything back, I promise I'll be fine. And I'll be happy to answer any other question you might have! So, are you ready… my daughter?"

The tone in the cleric's voice made it clear just how much joy he got just from uttering the last sentence. He had to go up against Pulse in a one-on-one battle, but if that was needed to make her content then so be it. And as long as she was happy, so was he. He only hoped he could bring himself to actually go through with it.

"Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. Let's just do this before anyone starts to regret it" Pulse sighed.

The two Drow looked at each other one more time before turning around to get into position. And once more the crowd, previously chattering about the scene unfolding in front of them, fell silent in anticipation. They were all wanting to see how this confrontation would end. This very much included the blue Plasmoid up in the announcer's booth, only seconds away from announcing the start of the round.

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

"BEGIN!"

[KABOOOM!]

Pulse made the first move, quickly shoving her hand into her backpack to pull out her first weapon. Seconds later she had it pointed towards Vuzrak - it might have failed to harm Alva earlier, but perhaps the G.U.N would find some use against her dad. Although given how long she took to go through with pulling the trigger, it was clear how uncomfortable that thought made her. But eventually she did pull it.

[BANG!]

The bullet struck the centre of Vuzrak's sturdy shield, not having been even close to any of his more vulnerable areas. Pulse had not only hesitated long enough for him to put it up, but also aimed straight for it. And while he appreciated not being shot, the cleric still sighed; the fight had started, but Pulse clearly didn't have her head in the game. Or rather, her heart. Time to fix that.

With his shield still held up right in front of him, Vuzrak started to charge in towards the young genius. She reflexively attempted another shot from the firearm, with the same result as before. Great, the Grievously Unbearable Nuisance only seemed to live up to its name when it came to wielding it. And now Pulse only really had one option as Vuzrak came closer and closer. The only thing in her arsenal she'd brought today capable of stopping the cleric was her own shield, and there certainly wasn't any time to grab that. Her teleporting Boots of the Winding Path could only rewind her to a spot she'd already been at seconds before, so that was also a no-no. Thus the artificer waited until the last second before she threw herself to the ground in an improvised combat roll.

While the manoeuvre was successful, it certainly wasn't elegant - the shapely Pulse didn't really have the most optimal body shape to roll around like a tumbleweed. Nevertheless, Vuzrak had run straight past her. And with his momentum, he'd be too busy to stop and turn around to prevent the inventor from switching tools. The firearm went right back into the bag, and instead the metallic right hand hoisted out the square frame that was the Photon Shield. Now she was - hopefully - ready for any close-range attack that Vuzrak could throw at her.

With the G.U.N no longer pointing towards him, the older Drow returned his shield to his back. But not before hoisting his decorated warhammer from there first. And with a proud smile yet again plastered across his face, Vuzrak charged in again. As he did so, Pulse activated the bright shield with her left hand while preparing a Shocking Grasp spell with her artificial right hand. This time she wouldn't move an inch. This time she held up the shining shield towards her dad as he swung his hammer downward.

[THOOM!]

"WE'RE OFF TO A TURBULENT START, FOLKS! CONTESTANT PULSE MAKES THE FIRST ATTACK, BUT TO NO AVAIL AS CONTESTANT VUZRAK CLOSES THE DISTANCE THANKS TO HIS SHIELD! AND NOW THE DROWS ARE LOCKED IN A STALEMATE - THE UNSTOPPABLE HAMMER AGAINST THE IMMOVABLE SHIELD! WHO WILL END UP GAINING THE ADVANTAGE?"

While Vuzrak was easily the stronger of the two, Pulse had the superior leverage. She had managed to block his attack just past the height of his swing, but she did need both hands to keep the cleric from breaking past her defence. Which meant she had to dispel the Shocking Grasp. Thus the two were locked in place until one of them slipped up, something that Pulse decided to take advantage of. If both were locked in place here for a few moments, then she might as well try to get some answers.

"Well dad, you told me you'd answer any question I might have! So tell me everything about why things became the way they are! Tell me exactly what happened 19 years ago!" the mechanic asked, pushing back her dad's hammer with all her limited might all the while.

Vuzrak fell silent for a moment, as if pondering on what he should say. But eventually he gave in; this was as good a time as any to tell Pulse where she came from.

"In a way, everything can be traced back to your mother. More or less any negative rumour you might've heard about the Drow fit her to a tee; power-hungry, violent and most of all… tyrannical. And I, one of her many slaves, had no choice but to obey her every whim. She was a priestess after all. This all continued until I was selected to be the next father of one of her many children. That, of course, being you" Vuzrak solemnly told his daughter, still not letting up his attack.

"Eventually you were born, but that was when my wi- no, master went too far. According to her impossible standards, you weren't 'perfect' enough. And so she ordered me to have you killed just like that. Because you were - in her words - 'a little pudgy'. But I just… couldn't. Holding you in my arms, I decided to do something worthwhile for the first time in my life. And so against all odds I managed to sneak you up to the surface, taking you as far away from your mother as I could until you were safe. I… did not survive my master's wrath afterwards" the older Drow finished, his eyes filled with the pain only a hurtful memory could bring.

"Damn, I… I don't know what to say. I had no idea that it was all because of my…" Pulse shakily responded, not even able to finish her sentence.

She had known everything after that point; she'd been found by some adventurer, then taken to an orphanage where she'd been taken in by a gnome couple, a.k.a. the people that had been her parents for practically all her life. But everything before that had been a mystery up until now. A wild mix of emotions began to whirl around in her chest - shock, sorrow, maybe even a hint of anger. But most of all a newfound reverence for her father. He'd been through all that and willingly gone to his doom… just for her to have a chance at life. It was enough for her eyes to start watering behind her goggles.

However, this sudden mutual surge of emotions began to show themselves physically. Both Drows had begun to falter - this stalemate wouldn't last much longer. It was high time to break it. At the same time that Pulse took a big step backwards, Vuzrak pulled back his warhammer. Pulse followed up by quickly turning around to run and create some distance between her and her dad, before spinning to face him again. This was still a competition after all; their little heart to heart hadn't changed that.

The young artificer needed some time. Time to not only get her emotions in order, but to form a new plan of attack. She had a clear and notable advantage when it came to range, but most of her options had either proved futile or would risk causing more harm to Vuzrak than she wanted. Pulse just wanted to put him out of action long enough for her to win, not beat him within an inch of his afterlife. And although Vuzrak's thought process went very differently, they still came to the same conclusion.

As a cleric of Eilistraee, his capabilities in a one-on-one duel were quite limited. He excelled at healing and aiding others with his divine boons; directly fighting enemies himself was not his strong suit. Especially against someone who not only fought mainly at long range, but also was someone he really didn't want to hurt for real. He wanted to find a way to give her a challenge without putting her in serious danger, not leave her broken and bloodied. Thus both Drow came to the same decision, and both put that plan into action as their eyes simultaneously went completely black. As did their respective surroundings.

"Huh, would you look at that. Or… not, I guess" the taken aback Pulse bluntly mumbled.

She'd cast her innate Darkness spell around Vuzrak to blind him long enough for her to make a new plan, but she hadn't expected him to have the exact same idea. Thus despite their stellar darkvision, neither side could see a thing. Pulse let out a small groan; so much for that plan. Still, Vuzrak's vision was just as compromised as hers. It was all a question as to who'd figure out the other's position first.

The cleric was about as confused as his daughter was, if a bit more restless. Unlike her his ranged combat capabilities were practically non-existent, so when they were both separated and blinded there was not much he could do. None of his light-based spells were strong enough to dispel the darkness after all; the only way out was to break Pulse's concentration. And so Vuzrak did the only thing he could - he started to take long strides to where he'd last seen Pulse. But roughly 7 seconds later he came to realise his mistake. By way of the searing heat striking his armoured torso.

"AAGH!"

The darkness around Pulse quickly faded as Vuzrak's scream briefly filled the air, a confident smile adorning the inventor's face. On one hand she didn't like landing the first hit on her dad, but on the other she couldn't help but feel proud of her quick thinking. So much so that she had to announce it.

"It's hard to be sneaky when you're wearing clunky armour, dad. Just a hot tip" the mechanic yelled out towards the older Drow.

Even though she still wasn't 100% on board with this whole thing, Pulse's notably more cheerful tone had shown that she was getting more and more into it. And thanks to the loud noises made from Vuzrak's heavy armour, landing a Scorching Ray spell had been easy. And despite the agony from the burning attack, the cleric couldn't help but feel proud. His daughter was slowly appearing to not just get more comfortable around him, but also began to show hints of her trademark clever strategies. So if he wanted to keep challenging her, he needed to step up a little.

A few metres away, the young artificer hastily dug around in her string backpack. She needed to locate her main weapons while Vuzrak was still surrounded by darkness, and first out was her G.U.N. Maybe it could still have a use in her plan after all. With the firearm secured and tucked into her belt, Pulse reached in again to find her turret. But just as her hand touched the large contraption she was interrupted. By a sleek thin projectile rocketing towards her location.

[THUNK!]

"WHOA NELLY, THAT WAS A CLOSE ONE! SEEMS THE ACTION SLOWED DOWN A BIT AS THE TWO FIGHTERS HAD A CHAT ABOUT… SOMETHING, BUT AFTER THAT MUTUAL TURN-OFF OF THE LIGHTS BOTH SIDES HAVE MANAGED TO GET OFF A COUPLE NASTY ATTACKS! CONTESTANT PULSE MIGHT HAVE GOTTEN IN A SEARING HIT WITH THAT BRIGHT SHOT IN THE DARK, BUT IF CONTESTANT VUZRAK'S SPEAR HAD BEEN JUST A LITTLE BIT CLOSER THEN THE PRODIGAL INVENTOR WOULD HAVE BEEN A LOT MORE THAN JUST A BIT TERRIFIED!"

Googlorp wasn't wrong; Vuzrak's haphazardly thrown spear had been close to scaring the dye out of Pulse's hair, almost returning it to its natural stark white colour. And less metaphorically speaking, the shock of this spear suddenly striking down merely half a metre away from her had caused the inventor to drop more than just her turret. As her composure went out the window, so did her focus on the Darkness spell. Vuzrak breathed a sigh of relief as his vision returned - and that he hadn't accidentally pierced right through his daughter. His own plan had worked just as intended.

At this point, the ground beneath them began to rumble. And once again the many hatches opened up to reveal the protective concrete walls. Vuzrak didn't hesitate for a second; as soon as the walls were up he quickly took cover beneath the closest one. With his burnmark he was rendered painfully slow, leaving him wide open for any of Pulse's ranged attacks. The still shaking artificer also dove down behind a wall - after all, she had little to no grasp of what her holy dad could actually do. It was better to not risk a sudden light grenade or something similar taking her down out of nowhere.

Vuzrak took the chance to do what he did best. Placing an open hand on the burnmark on his chest, he felt divine magic fill his wound until it was completely healed. As he did so, he could hear a loud noise fill the air as a tiny projectile flew over his head. A couple dozen metres away, Pulse had given her Grievously Unbearable Nuisance another chance. With her fortified position and large supply of extra ammunition, she could safely fire away for about an hour if she wanted to. There was just one obvious issue; Vuzrak was behind just as much cover as she was. Unless he stuck out his whole head, there was no way she'd hit him.

"So. Seeing as we seem to be in a bit of a stalemate here, how about telling me more about… our situation? Like how did you become a champion of some otherworldly figure AFTER you left the mortal plane? …If that's something you want to bring up?" the mechanic shouted from her trench.

"After your mother saw to it that I was fully executed, I found myself in a deep lifeless void" Vuzrak responded, not hesitating in the slightest.

"The prospect of actually dying never frightened me; death had been a possibility I'd woken up to every day since I met my master after all. But the place my soul ended up after my body was slain… It was frightening. Nothing but empty darkness, with only the souls of the recently passed dotting the void like a starry sky. I don't know how long I was there - it might have been minutes, hours or maybe years - but in the end, I was saved by the intervention of the Dark Maiden."

Pulse's pointed ears were all pricked up as she listened to the cleric's story. She herself had never been religious at all - she knew that various gods and the like did exist, though she'd never bought the whole thing about them being almighty personifications of pure concepts. But here was Vuzrak, describing how he had in a way come back to life thanks to one of said gods. To her, listening to his side of the story could be not just interesting, but educational.

"Eilistraee, the patron of all the good-natured Drow. She must have been pleased with my last act in life, because she made sure to reach out to me before Lolth could doom my soul. She gave me the chance to spend my afterlife in her service as one of her champions, a position I gratefully accepted. If not for her then I'd probably be left to the whims of Lolth, like almost every Drow does" Vuzrak finished.

Judging by the steadier tone of his voice, this memory was notably less painful to recall. Not only that, but Pulse had fallen silent again - she'd come to a realisation. Vuzrak had already been through hell for her sake, and despite that told her to not hold anything back against him. He really wanted her to show not just the onlooking audience, but also himself what she was made of. No matter what happened to him. The young Drow took a deep breath as she fully reloaded her firearm.

It was time to pull out all the stops.

"What are those nitwits even talking about? This spectacle is dull enough as it is!"

Up in the contestants watching area, most of the other competitors were intently observing the fight. This did not include Professor Suss. The tiny Kobold hadn't bothered to watch any of the other quarterfinal bouts, having had no interest in this tournament at all since his embarrassing loss the day before. But this fight was an exception. One Drow had dealt him said humiliation, the other had personally insulted him. He didn't care whoever ended up winning; he just wanted to see one side lose.

"Just look at those dolts! Constantly having to stop and talk about what has to be utter nonsense! I swear, that's all those Drow can do. Pretend that they know something!" the agitated professor muttered.

However, as soon as he finished his rant he came to regret it. Professor Suss gave out a quick yelp as two immensely powerful fingers lifted him up from his seat by his coat, before flipping him around to face their owner. A fuming Alva Morrison glared towards the now pale Kobold, her head alone being almost as large as his entire body.

"What're you whispering about, little guy? Care to say that again to my face?" the giant Half-Orc snarled.

Professor Suss shivered in place; apparently his whispering hadn't been as quiet as he'd thought. And now a wall of muscle almost four times his height and about 14 times heavier than him had taken issue with that. The quivering wizard had no choice but to defend himself, hopefully without having his spine snapped.

"A-ahem, I was simply u-uttering my views on those two out on th-the field! I d-did not mean to bother you, m-miss! May I… may I please be returned b-back to solid ground?" Professor Suss stuttered.

Alva maintained her glare, as if going over him. Suddenly, she violently lunged out with her other hand to grab the Kobold. The professor whimpered in pain - Alva's hand was large enough to envelop his entire upper torso, and strong enough to reduce his bones to dust if she wanted to. The Half-Orc pulled him as close to her face as she could, before growling at him in the deepest and most rumbling tone she was capable of.

"No, you may not. Loudly muttering like some spoiled kid is one thing, but when you go and insult my friend I take it REAL fucking personal! That tinkerer has more spirit in her right pinky than you do in your entire body! And while her pops is a bit of a pushover, that's still more than your selfish little ass can ever dream to be! So how about you take that holier-than-thou attitude and shut the FUCK up!" Alva snarled at the professor.

The Half-Orc turned around while rearing her huge arm back, before throwing the Kobold as hard as she could. Professor Suss didn't even have time to process the speech before crashing into the wall with enough force to crack it, the impact alone cracking a few bones and knocking him out cold. Upon hearing this scene unfold, the remaining contestants stared silently at both the livid Alva and the broken Kobold on the ground - then turned right back to the fight without much of a reaction. Clearly nobody minded the absence of Professor Suss and his muttering.

"Hey Alva I'm back, they were out of buttered popcorn so you'll have to do with regul- oh damn. Fucking finally!" a rough voice shouted from the doorway.

Molly had returned from her quick snack acquisition with two bowls of popcorn in hand, almost dropping them at the sight of Professor Suss' limp form. As the scarlet Dwarf hurried back to her much larger friend's side, she gave her a solid affectionate jab in the thigh.

"About time someone shut him up. What'd he say this time? Or wait, let me guess: something something 'I am so much more important than those fuckos'!" Molly asked in her best impression of the Kobold.

Alva's snarl dropped to give way for a chuckle, her massive arm reaching out to pull the Dwarf a bit closer. As the two roughnecks returned their attention to the fight at hand, the Half-Orc replied.

"Spot on, dollface. Spot on."

Down on the battlefield, Pulse had announced her decision to fight for real by way of a small volley of gunfire. By now she'd thrown caution to the wind; if she wanted to get a hit in she couldn't just hunker down behind some concrete all day. And even though her bullets failed to get past Vuzrak's armour and shield, at least they actually hit something now. But what the artificer couldn't see was the smile on her dad's face. Finally, she was done holding back. And if he wanted to stay in the ring, he had to follow her example. The cleric began to hum something in elvish under his breath, preparing his hidden trump card. It was time to show that kid of his just what an emissary of the Dark Maiden was capable of.

By this point Vuzrak had figured out the pattern behind Pulse's firearm - six shots, then stopping a few seconds to reload. So when the mechanic's barrage reached its next pause, the armoured older Drow stood up with his shield in front of him. And in front of everyone's eyes his already dark blue skin started to grow even darker. His very body was outlined in a dim black shine, but not for long. With a mystical rumble, the nightly cloak expanded outwards from him in the form of a dome. There it was: a 30 ft. sphere of dim light, obscuring the cleric from view for everyone lacking the ability to see in the dark. His very own twilight sanctuary.

"Wow… that's a pretty cool trick, dad. But how exactly does this help you?" Pulse asked in a curious tone.

Being a Drow herself, seeing in the dark was a complete non-issue. So to her all Vuzrak had done was dull his own colours a little. But upon hearing this, the cleric simply chuckled.

"Well Pulse… I'm glad you asked"

With these words, Vuzrak did something nobody watching had expected. In the previous match, Abigail had stunned everyone by whipping out a harness granting her the ability of flight. And even though his methods were anything but technological in nature, the sight of Vuzrak taking a page from her book was still a breathtaking one. Pulse could only stare with her mouth agape as she witnessed the twilight sphere ascend from the ground. In other words, she now had a flying father.

"WILL THE SURPRISES NEVER END? NOW YET ANOTHER CONTESTANT HAS DECIDED TO DEFY THE LAWS OF GRAVITY, THIS TIME VIA AN AURA OF THE NIGHT ITSELF! LET'S HOPE CONTESTANT PULSE HAS A WAY TO KNOCK HER DAD DOWN A FEW PEGS, OR SHE'S GONNA END UP SNUFFED OUT!"

Vuzrak's ability to hover in dim light, combined with the capacity to generate a field of it centred on his body, was a frighteningly effective combination. He only had about a minute where he could remain airborne, but his experience with his divine gifts made that more than enough. That minute would decide everything; either Pulse adapted in time and defeated him, or he overcame her and advanced to the semifinals himself. And while the father in him really wanted the former to happen, the devoted cleric in him made sure to prioritise the latter. Vuzrak's expression turned stern as he put up his spear and shield; one way or the other, this was about to end.

Pulse didn't have much time to process the strange sight in front of her before she had to leap out of the way again - Vuzrak was rapidly flying towards her with his spear pointing straight forward. And as he quickly turned around for another attempt, the artificer was saved by her quick thinking as she cast a Dancing Lights spell into her shield's steely frame. The cleric's spear thus struck the durable force barrier instead of his daughter's body. And consciously or not, that shield was exactly what Vuzrak had aimed for.

This turn of events was repeated a few times; Vuzrak charged in with a spear thrust, Pulse blocked it with an occasional force cushion thrown in. But after about 20 seconds Pulse came to an alarming realisation. The shield had begun to flicker in places, cracks appearing all over it in the form of disrupted light where the spear had struck. In other words, her barrier was about to break. She still had her force field to fall back on, but without a shield she wouldn't be able to keep the cleric back for long. The inventor quickly realised what she had to do - disarm her father before it was too late. And given how he was revving up another big thrust, she had to do it soon.

At the moment Pulse only had two bullets left loaded in her gun. And with Vuzrak's relentless flybys, she wouldn't get any time to reload before her shield broke completely. The situation was clear - if she wanted to regain the advantage then she had to make those bullets count. So as her dad rapidly approached her once more, she pointed her firearm towards him. Her motions turned stiff as she forced her breathing to stabilise, waiting with forcefully fortified nerves for the perfect moment. Steady, steady… until there it was. Pulse quickly shut her eyes as she pulled the trigger.

[BANG!]

"(Gasp!)"

The decorated spear fell to the ground as the sudden shock caused Vuzrak to lose not only his grip on it, but also his momentum. He reflexively clutched his right shoulder with his hand - the spot where the bullet had hit him. Pulse let out an exhale of relief upon realising that she had managed to disarm the cleric, but as her gaze shifted to the weapon on the ground she quickly sprung into action again. The artificer lept towards the spear, throwing it as far away from Vuzrak as her thin arm could muster. About that moment was when the latter's dimly lit aura began to fade, forcing him to descend back to solid ground.

"I'm really impressed, my daughter! You're really giving me no choice but to use every option I have against you!" Vuzrak said, trying his best to ignore the bullet in his shoulder all the while.

Pulse kept her G.U.N. pointed straight towards her dad, but her steadfast form was contrasted heavily by the warm smile on her face. Approval was something she rarely came across nowadays, so having her own long-lost father complimenting her felt really fulfilling. However, this somewhat distracting emotion would soon turn out to nip her in the bud. Because as her dad's body began to give off a bright blinding light she lost the focus she needed to maintain the advantage. So as Pulse's sensitive eyes lost track of Vuzrak, her ears picked up the last sentence she wanted to hear right now.

"That being said, this final trump card of mine might be a bit difficult to overcome."

As a Drow, being physically adapted for life underground made the Light spell a big issue for Pulse. Being raised on the surface could only do so much to dampen the consequences of your own genetics after all. So while her vision did eventually return, she was stunned long enough for Vuzrak to get his final preparations in order. And as the artificer came back to her senses, the first sight she registered was one of awe and fear.

In front of her was a shining white figure seemingly made out of clear light - not as bright as the flash Vuzrak had given off, but enough to illuminate the immediate surroundings. Its shape was that of a humanoid, but very few distinguishing features other than long flowing hair, pointed ears, a large sword and a round shield with the shape of what Pulse could only assume to be the symbol of Eilistraee. Not to mention its great size; the figure towered over both Pulse and Vuzrak. And above it was Vuzrak, once again surrounded by a dim aura and levitating far above the ground. Overlooking both his daughter and his most powerful spell: The Guardian of Faith.

"Well damn, how does this keep happening?" the uneasy Pulse muttered.

First Alva Morrison doubling her already immense size, now Vuzrak summoning a similarly huge spectral guardian. Did fate have a penchant for putting her up against towering giants or something? She could ponder that later; right now, said shining guardian was raising its huge sword to attack. Pulse quickly grabbed her backpack as she turned around to bolt, narrowly avoiding the spectral blade as she did so. As she ran away from the guardian, she put her G.U.N. back into her bag. And upon stopping she instead pulled out her most powerful tool - her turret. Just in time too, since the Guardian of Faith pursued her as fast as a lumbering armoured divine warrior could.

"SEEMS WE'RE IN THE ENDGAME NOW, FOLKS! WHILE CONTESTANT PULSE DID MANAGE TO BRING HER OPPONENT BACK DOWN TO GROUND LEVEL, CONTESTANT VUZRAK'S SUDDEN LIGHT BURST GAVE HIM AN OPENING TO GET RIGHT BACK UP AGAIN! AND NOW BOTH SIDES HAVE BROUGHT OUT THEIR RESPECTIVE ACE: THE SPECTRAL SENTINEL'S DIVINE MAGICAL SPIRIT WARRIOR AGAINST THE PRODIGAL INVENTOR'S EPITOME OF TECHNOLOGICAL FIREPOWER! FAITH GIVEN FORM OR CONSTRUCTED AGGRESSION: WHO WILL COME OUT ON TOP?!"

Pulse had a plan, and for that to work she had to attack from two places at once. And with the turret up and running, she just needed herself to get into position. Vuzrak still hadn't hit her with any form of projectile, so the artificer concluded that he did in fact not have any form of ranged attacks. The problem was just the giant spectral warrior approaching her; that sword was almost as large as Pulse herself was, and with range like that it would be hard to just run around it. Nevertheless, she had to try. If she wanted to win this she needed to land this before Vuzrak had a chance to heal up, something he currently had all the time in the world to do. With that thought in mind, the younger Drow started running towards the glowing guardian.

High above the battlefield, Vuzrak was tending to his gunshot wound. He muttered a chant in elvish with his hands clapped together, and slowly but surely his regenerating flesh pushed out the lead projectile. The cleric let out a sigh; healing spells did wonders for physical wounds, but they did nothing for depleted stamina levels. Something he was starting to run low on after Pulse's onslaughts, not to mention his many spear thrusts and careless warhammer swings. He knew that one way or the other, this fight would end soon. But as a loud scream rang out from beneath him, he started coming to fear just how true that statement was.

"YAARGH!"

Pulse fell on her back with a thud as blood started to drip from her chest. The artificer had been too careless trying to avoid the Guardian of Faith's huge blade, gravely underestimating how fast it could swing it. So when the spirit struck her at full force she was completely caught off guard. The shimmering force field around her body had managed to block most of the damage, but at the cost of breaking down. And even then the blow had left a large gash across the Drow's torso. Now she was completely defenceless - the shield was broken, her force field was destroyed and her own fortitude was not going to make any difference. If that spirit hit her one or two more times, it would be over. But luckily for Pulse, help was at hand. In the form of her three-legged machine striking the guardian in the back with all its firepower.

While the force blasts from the turret went right through the Guardian of Faith without any signs of harm, it did result in the holy spirit turning its attention away from Pulse. If this was a conscious decision or just how the spell worked, Pulse did not know. She simply staggered to her feet to keep running away from it. The gash left in her torso was wide, but not very deep; the inventor's vital organs were still intact. If it hadn't been for her force field she would've been far from as good off. But right now was not the time to tend to her wound - Pulse had finally gotten into position. Herself on one side of Vuzrak's still flying form, her turret on the other.

The cleric still hadn't moved. His attention couldn't remain on both his daughter and her creation at once, not to mention all the mental gymnastics he had to handle to maintain his dim aura, the Guardian of Faith and to heal his shoulder wound. And so he did not register what Pulse was shouting beneath him. Not until it was too late.

"Voice Command: Raise shooting angle by 60 degrees! In other words: Sorry about this, dad!"

With those words, four powerful blasts were fired from two different sources. Pulse formed a ball of unstable magical energy in her metal hand, the spell rapidly changing its substance after she threw it before settling into an orb of lightning - the spell known as Chaos Bolt. At the same time, her turret had pointed its three barrels towards the flying cleric to fire three bolts of translucent force magic at him. Vuzrak had no time to dodge or block with his shield; his reflexes were not even close to fast enough to avoid lightning. And so all four blasts connected, lighting up the nightly veil around the cleric like an arcane thunderstorm. The awestruck crowd watched on as Vuzrak let out an anguished scream, before falling towards solid ground again.

Mere moments after the scissor attack, the Guardian of Faith slammed down on the mechanical turret with its blade. And while the first strike failed to break it completely, the second smashed it apart into hundreds of pieces. As soon as the machine broke apart, the spectral construct began to fade away. Such was the nature of the spell - when it had caused enough damage, it would dissipate and leave the mortal realm again. Which meant that both contestants had lost their respective trump cards, leaving them with merely their basic sets of tools and abilities.

As Pulse stood still reeling from the gash in her chest, Vuzrak slowly rose to his feet from where he'd landed. He'd managed to maintain the aura around him long enough to not crash, but that was a moot point in the face of the damage he'd taken from the scissor attack. His steel armour had been filled with cracks and several of its hinges were loose from the barrage of bullets and blasts, and that electric shock had done quite a number on his insides. His daughter wasn't much better off; the way she was clutching the wound from the Guardian's blade indicated how painful it was, not to mention her heavy breathing. But despite their worn-down states, the two Drow still stood strong as they stared into the other's eyes. Neither of them was about to go down just yet.

Which made Vuzrak's next statement so much more shocking to the enraptured audience.

"Can you hear me up there, tournament staff? I regardfully surrender!"

As the weary Drow let go of his shield followed by raising his arms to the sky, the air in the arena fell completely silent. The onlookers - Pulse especially - were too stunned to even process what had just been said. And when the reactions eventually came, they came in the form of confused murmurs. Even the occasional booing. But Vuzrak didn't bat an eye, instead just waiting around for somebody to make his surrender official. Which eventually happened as a fairy referee fluttered down with a tiny megaphone in hand.

"Contestant Vuzrak has declared his surrender; therefore the winner is Contestant Pulse!"

"IT'S… OVER? THE BATTLE SEEMED TO HAVE REACHED ITS FINAL STAGE, YET BEFORE ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN CONTESTANT VUZRAK THROWS IN THE TOWEL! WHICH MEANS THE ONE TO ADVANCE TO THE SEMIFINALS IS CONTESTANT PULSE! I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT WAS A BIT ANTICLIMACTIC BUT HEY, THOSE ARE THE TOURNAMENT RULES! THE SPECTRAL SENTINEL CHOOSES TO END THINGS HERE AND NOW, EVEN IF THAT COST HIM THE VICTORY!"

Pulse herself was simply left quivering, with her puzzled look slowly giving way to bewildered frustration. They had just gotten to the decisive part of the fight, and neither side was about to fall; why had he given up here?

"What in the nine hells are you doing, dad?! First you egg me on to keep fighting you to the bitter end, but then when I do you just give up? Just… why?!" the young artificer stuttered.

But Vuzrak was simply smiling. Whatever his reasons were, to him they were clearly worth it. Reasons which he proceeded to make clear to his frustrated daughter.

"Because I already know the results!" the cleric calmly responded, loud and clear enough so everybody could hear him.

"Now I know just what you're capable of. I'm running low on both spells and stamina, plus my armour is about to fall apart completely. On the other hand, you still have that remarkable weapon of yours - and certainly a lot more wonderful inventions - in your back pocket. But most importantly, I can never beat that determination of yours. As long as your dream still burns brightly in your mind, then you will never give in! So as far as I see it, it doesn't matter if I surrender here or if we keep fighting until I lose my grip on my soul. As far as I'm concerned, the well-deserved winner is the one and only Pulse!"

Vuzrak closed his eyes, his warm smile telling just how certain he was about this.

"Besides, I finally got to meet my dear daughter again. I just can't keep hurting you any longer anyway."

Pulse didn't have any answer beyond shakily standing still, at least for a moment. But eventually she slowly made her way towards Vuzrak, her eyes still fixated on him. Over the last few minutes her view on him had gone from conflicted unease to honest admiration and appreciation - he'd done everything from literally giving up his life for her, to making sure Pulse got closer to her dream, all for her sake. Who knew she'd get to know her dad more in a brutal fight to the finish of all places? He'd shown as much care and consideration as he could in a fight like this, so it was only fair that she'd finally return the favour. Thus as the inventor reached her dad, she opened up her arms to give him the big hug she felt he really deserved.

At the same time that Pulse invited Vuzrak for the long overdue embrace, the field beneath them began to shine its familiar white light. By the time the overjoyed Vuzrak reciprocated the gesture, Pulse's chest wound had closed up while his own singed insides and marred lower torso were fully healed. By the time they pulled each other closer, both could feel their stamina return. And by the time they let go, their respective armour and tools had been patched up. All set to the returning approving roars of the crowd.

"Thanks for everything, dad. I'm glad I got to properly meet you, even if only for a short while" Pulse warmly said.

"I'm the one who should thank you, my daughter. For getting to see you all grown up to be such a marvellous young woman, despite what life has thrown your way! Speaking of which, do you think we could take a moment to get me up to speed? I'd love to hear how your life on the surface has been!" Vuzrak gladly responded.

He had just surrendered in the grandest contest of them all, but that didn't matter to him for even a moment. He'd finally gotten to reunite with his beloved daughter, and as long as she was content then so was he. No matter what happened to him, he would always desire nothing but her happiness. Being her father, that was just who he was. Pulse fell silent for a moment, but eventually she nodded and motioned for him to go along with her back to the waiting room. She had a lot to tell him.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story, so let's start with how I chose my name!"

"AND WITH THAT, LET'S THANKS CONTESTANT VUZRAK FOR HIS ENLIGHTENING PERFORMANCE. AND LET'S CONGRATULATE CONTESTANT PULSE FOR HER STUNNING VICTORY, MAKING HER THE FOURTH AND FINAL SEMIFINALIST! WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT WILL BE COMING UP NEXT, FOLKS; WE'VE ALREADY REACHED THE FINAL STRETCH OF THE TOURNAMENT! TOMORROW WE'LL TACKLE NOT ONLY THE COVETED SEMIFINALS, BUT ALSO THE CLASH BETWEEN THE LAST TWO FIGHTERS THAT WILL REMAIN AFTER THAT! IN OTHER WORDS: THE FINALS! TOMORROW THESE FOUR WARRIORS WILL DECIDE WHO WILL BE THE GREATEST IN THE MULTIVERSE!"

Once more, everybody's eyes were focused on the large viewing screen. The massive electronic board switched from showing an overview of the crowd to another set of red and blue brackets, this time only 4 remaining as opposed to the previous day's 8. And just like before they spun around like a purple vortex followed by two facial portraits shooting out on each side, this time backed up by searing white flames in the background as opposed to blue.

SF ROUND 1: GOH'JI VS PRIME

The collective enthusiastic fighting spirit between Prime and Goh'ji had finally appeared to become intense enough to take physical form; the two rivals were pressing their heads against each other backed by a blazing inferno. And while this was in actuality simply another holographic visual effect from Prime, the very air around them was still remarkably tense to the point of almost being tangible. This was the fight they'd both been waiting for since day one of the tournament, and they both knew that no matter the result this would be the single most important battle for either of them.

SF ROUND 2: ASHES VS PULSE

As Pulse headed out of the arena followed by Vuzrak, she looked up towards the contestants watching area towards Ashes. The bulky Tiefling answered her determined smile with one of her own; she'd just seen full well what the Drow was capable of, and judging by the fight the similarly inventive Abigail had put up she was in for one hell of a scrap. She was looking forward to this. The same was very much true for Pulse - she'd already gone through a titan of a Half-Orc and her own father, so a gunslinging Tiefling would be a welcome change of pace. She couldn't wait to see what her upcoming opponent was bringing to the table, not to mention what she'd need to overcome in order to fulfil her ultimate goal.

"THAT BRINGS US TO THE END OF TODAY'S INTENSE QUARTERFINALS! WE'VE SEEN EVERYTHING FROM THUNDERSTRUCK EARTH GOLEMS, SPINNING METAL SWORDFIGHTERS AND FLYING MECHANICS TO FAMILY REUNIONS, SO WHO CAN TELL WHAT TOMORROW WILL BRING? WE'LL JUST HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE! MY NAME IS GOOGLORP, YOUR HOST FOR THIS TOURNAMENT, AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU ALL RETURN FOR TOMORROW! THANK YOU ALL FOR COMING!"

With those words, the loudly chattering crowd left their seats to prepare for the upcoming day's final bouts. And barring the battered Professor Suss who was quickly taken to the infirmary by the ever-caring Root, the same was true for the contestants. Out of the 16 who'd entered the tournament, only 4 remained. And soon there would be only 2. The thundering brawler, the metal-clad swordsman, the brawny gunslinger and the redheaded genius all had the same thought that evening; tomorrow, they would fight. Fight to overcome. Fight to enjoy. Fight to win.

The tournament was close to its third act, where everything would be decided once and for all.