The greatest in the Multiverse (Plural)

by Shinwashi

One year after the conclusion of the first multiversal tournament, the stage is set for the official follow-up. Everyone from last time have returned to fight for glory, personal goals or whatever reasons they have, but this time there's a new rule thrown into the mix. One that's gonna test the bonds they've all built over the last year...

5. Round 4: Storm, Earth and Fire

"ALRIGHT THEN FOLKS, THIS IS IT! THE FINAL MATCH OF THE FIRST ROUND IS ABOUT TO BEGIN, AND SOMETHING TELLS ME IT'S GONNA BE ONE HELL OF A RIDE!"

Compared to the previous rounds, Googlorp's announcement was even more intense than usual. And given how the audience answered with the loudest cheers they'd uttered since Team Overdark entered the scene two fights ago, it seemed like the blue Plasmoid's little plan had worked; everyone had successfully been not only revitalised after the unnerving incident from the last round, but also mentally prepared for what was about to come. After all, this last match was sure to be nothing less than impactful.

"TWO TEAMS REMAIN, BUT SHORTLY ONLY ONE WILL REMAIN STANDING! SOON WE WILL FIND OUT WHICH ONE WILL END UP FACING TEAM TREESHADE IN TOMORROW'S SEMIFINALS… SO LET'S STOP WASTING PRECIOUS TIME AND BRING THEM IN! IT'S TIME TO LET 'EM RIP!"

Just like the previous rounds, all the attention was drawn towards the illuminated blue corner's entrance. For now the unsettled feelings surrounding Root's earlier breakdown was all but forgotten; every single soul in the massive arena was about to burst from excitement. Everyone wanted to see this last intense clash.

"Couldn't agree with you more, my friend. This will be a tough one alright!"

His tone might've been as enthusiastic as ever, but Morgan still meant every word. His upcoming enemies consisted of the largest and most powerful Half-Orc he had ever seen and a Dwarf with probably enough firepower to burn down a village, while his teammate was backed by a war god while being about as strong as a Dragonborn could possibly be. All Morgan had was a spiritual companion, a bow and a positive attitude - he was well aware of how low his own odds were. But he wasn't about to let some overwhelming difficulties stop him; the reptilian ranger was ready like always.

"That's putting it mildly, my friend. To be honest, I'm not sure how much help I can be here. In the face of such enemies, what good will brute strength alone be?" his draconic teammate sighed.

The Dragonborn known as Owen Whitlock would've usually been right behind his friend in terms of enthusiasm. Usually. But right now, his own thoughts from a couple rounds ago had taken deep root in him. In the first round, he had seen displays of combat skill worthy of song. In the second, he'd seen strategies and plans far more advanced than he could ever come up with. And in the third, he'd witnessed a young girl unleash the arguably most destructive show of magic he'd ever seen. A display born of severe anguish that had deeply worried him, but destructive nonetheless. And now that he was going up against someone with enough muscle to dwarf even him, his main strength - literally - would probably do nothing. However, that was as far as he got with his brooding. Because Morgan had just put his flipper-adorned hand on his shoulder in order to change that mindset.

"Owen my friend, that's not how a Hammer of Tempus should sound! That strength of yours might be your greatest weapon, but who said it was all you have? You still have Tempus' guiding hand behind you, and all the magical powers that entails! You still have that devout heart of yours; one that I know will never falter in the face of adversity! And don't forget, I will always be there to give all the aid I can. With your righteous drive and my righteous morale, Team Righteous will never fall!" Morgan explained.

Owen couldn't help but smile. Morgan might've been a bit caught up in his own optimism - heck, he'd said the word "righteous" three times in one sentence - but he wasn't wrong. If his comrade could be that enthusiastic in the face of what was to come, then what was his excuse? The Dragonborn laughed as he stood up, as ready as he could be to head out.

"You're right again, Morgan! Let's show everyone out there what Team Righteous can do!" Owen bellowed.

With the jovial Morgan right beside him, the paladin grabbed ahold of his trusted greatsword and mounted it on his back. So with both mind and body ready to fight, the duo started walking towards the battlefield with hefty steps. All the while with their arm over the other's shoulders.

"IN THE BLUE CORNER, RAISE YOUR HANDS FOR TEAM RIGHTEOUS! AMONG THEIR RANKS WE HAVE CONTESTANT OWEN WHITLOCK, THE SANCTIMONIOUS STRONGMAN, WHO MADE IT TO THE QUARTERFINALS OF LAST YEAR'S EVENT THROUGH HIS MIND-BLOWING STRENGTH AND TRUST IN HIS DEITY! AND BY HIS SIDE IS CONTESTANT MORGAN SARUN, THE PATROLLER OF THE DEPTHS, WHO FELL IN THE FIRST ROUND AFTER DISPLAYING THE BOND BETWEEN MAN AND BEAST, SKILLFUL MASTERY OF THE BOW AND AN UNDYING MORALE! WITH THEIR FORCES COMBINED, THEY'RE READY FOR COMBAT AT ANY SCALE! WILL THEIR EFFORTS PROVE THAT THE RIGHTEOUS ALWAYS PREVAIL, OR WILL JUSTICE FALTER BEFORE OVERWHELMING POWER? IN JUST A FEW MINUTES, ALL WILL BECOME CLEAR!"

As Team Righteous made their entrance while questioning if Googlorp even knew the meaning behind the word "sanctimonious", their upcoming opponents were finishing up their own preparations. And given their wildly different skill sets, those preparations were equally wildly different. On one side, a certain red-headed Dwarf maintained the focus needed to sustain a Minor Illusion. And on the other, her enormous girlfriend was warming up via stretching and jogging in place. Frankly, given how much that jogging shook the room it was a borderline miracle that the spell was sustained as well as it was.

"Alright, that's gonna have to be enough. C'mon Mol', let's go win this thing!"

Given the indescribable amount of training that had given her her titanic strength, even an intense 5-minute warm-up session had not been enough for Alva to even break a sweat - even her weakest point, her stamina, was superb. And yet, the expression adorning her face was one of tension. Something serious was clearly on the Half-Orc's mind. Although this was not shared with her laughing teammate; Molly quickly dispelled the Minor Illusion as she affectionately slapped Alva on the thigh.

"Relax, babe. We'll bust those knuckleheads' skulls, no sweat! You'll see!" Molly offhandedly chortled.

However, the confident reply she expected never came. Instead Alva looked Molly dead in the eye; she sported her serious face, which was rare enough to always mean business. So Molly quickly shut her mouth to listen.

"I meant the whole damn contest. We were serious when we said we'd make up for last year, remember? I know these fuckers are gonna be a roadblock at best, but still. We can't afford to lose again" Alva stated.

Molly could, probably more than anyone, tell that Alva's roughneck actions hid a much more vulnerable side. The Half-Orc most definitely wanted to win in order to redeem her early loss from the first tournament, but the reasons why were clear only to her girlfriend. There was pride and simple lust for battle for certain, but also clear signs of fear. Fear of losing face, fear of ending a streak… maybe even a hint of fear of facing the Drow who'd once cut her in half again. So Molly cracked a reassuring smile as she hugged Alva's leg - the only part of her the Dwarf could reach - tightly. It appeared that she would need to do her job as a loving partner again.

"I remember. And we'll win. But it ain't worth a thing if we get too hung up on it, right? Half the beauty in cracking heads is to have fun doing it, and we both know that. So don't forget to have a blast first and foremost, okay?" Molly explained.

Alva's tense shoulders slumped a little as she ruffled Molly's hair. That lovely little lady always knew what to say, didn't she? The Half-Orc bent down to be on somewhat eye level with her beloved before answering.

"Don't worry, I will. Thanks a lot, babe!" Alva replied, capping off her response with a quick kiss.

With their moxie, drive and butterflies in their stomachs riled up, Team Hot Stuff was as ready as they could be. So after Alva had grabbed her warhammer and hoisted it up on her back, the two eagerly started to make their way towards the sound of the screaming audience. All the while holding each other's hand with a surprising amount of tenderness.

"AND IN THE RED CORNER, FEAST YOUR EYES ON TEAM HOT STUFF! FIRST UP IS THE ONE AND ONLY CONTESTANT ALVA MORRISON, THE INDOMITABLE BEHEMOTH, WHO HAS REMAINED A CROWD FAVOURITE DESPITE HER EARLY LOSS LAST YEAR THANKS TO HER IMMEASURABLE STRENGTH, BRUTAL TACTICS AND SUPERNATURAL SIZE! AND BY HER SIDE IS CONTESTANT MOLLY MINESHAPER, THE FEROCIOUS BLAZE, WHO SIMILARLY FELL EARLY ON AFTER SHOWING OFF HER RED-HOT FIRE MAGIC, FIERCE DISPOSITION AND FERAL SPIRIT! BUT NOW THESE LOVEBIRDS ARE HERE TO NOT ONLY MARK THEIR ANNIVERSARY, BUT ALSO BRING HOME A REDEEMING VICTORY! WILL THEIR LOVE POWER THROUGH ANY AND ALL OBSTACLES, OR WILL THEIR COMBINED EFFORTS CHANGE NOTHING? WE'LL JUST HAVE TO FIND OUT, PEOPLE!"

The amount of cheers that were sent Team Hot Stuff's way were only surpassed by those for Team Overdark and possibly Full Power. Molly and Alva's earlier losses might've weighed heavily on themselves, but as for the audience they seemingly couldn't care less. They still saw a pair that had fought tooth and nail regardless, and who'd found each other in place of victory. Either that or they just saw two attractive ladies - it depends on who you ask, really. Reasonings aside, all attention was drawn to the centre of the arena. The teams were about to have a brief chat before all hells broke loose.

"Well now, I hope we haven't found ourselves taking water over our heads here! But regardless of what happens next, let's have a good fair battle! Which means we certainly can't afford to hold back, right Morgan?" Owen chuckled while nodding his head.

Morgan simply bellowed like usual in response, but he didn't answer - the smirking Alva beat him to it as she extended her hand.

"You're right, you really shouldn't. Not unless you want me and Molly to crush your asses into oblivion!" the Half-Orc laughed.

Of course, Morgan and Owen were not as amused as their eager opponents.

"Look here, miss, there's no need to-"

Morgan's rebuttal fell on deaf ears; literally, as the all-encompassing roars of the crowd dampened it. Either that or Team Hot Stuff didn't listen - either way they had turned around to get ready. So the reptilian duo did the same, albeit with a new drive to win fueled by being blown off like that. Something that didn't fail to escape Molly, at least if her aside glance was any indication. And given how enthusiastic her smile was, she knew full well that this had been the intent behind the taunt. Just Alva's own way of firing everyone up for a fierce battle.

Morgan took on a defensive stance. Molly impatiently reared back her glowing hands. Owen closed his eyes as he muttered a quick prayer to his revered Tempus. Alva slammed her fist into her open palm. And as the tense silence filled the colosseum, Googlorp did his part in ending it. It was high time to get going already.

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

"BEGIN!"

A series of fiery orange explosions lit up the night sky. The action was finally about to begin.

Said explosions hadn't even dissipated before Molly launched the first attack in the form of a Burning Hands spell. The red-hot stream of fire had been aimed straight towards Morgan, but the humanoid Mosasaurus merely narrowed his brow as he prepared to avoid it. After all, he was a former marine soldier - of course he knew better than to drop his guard. But before anything else, he finished the preparations he'd started right as the explosions had sounded. So as he removed his hand from Owen's shoulder and narrowly sidestepped the Burning Hands, his draconic companion was briefly outlined in a faint stream of magical wind. However, Morgan had barely let go of Owen before he was struck by a small volley of burning embers. Molly might've missed her first attack, but she'd also forced Morgan into a position where a stream of the smaller but faster Fire Bolt spell were all but unavoidable.

"I'll handle you then, soldier boy! Alva, go and pound that big preacher into the dirt whenever you feel like it!" the Dwarf laughed.

If there was anything that Molly lacked, it sure as the nine hells wasn't confidence. Even as she made her statement, she ceased firing at the singed Morgan; although her smoking and somewhat shaking fingertips hinted at a second reason. Regardless, Alva smirked as she moved in to do just what the sorcerer had suggested. With her hammer in hand, the Half-Orc charged in for a heavy sideswipe against the slow-moving Owen. Only to find out that thanks to Morgan, that adjective was now incorrect.

Someone as specialised in close-range fighting as Alva completely failed to recognise the brief magical aura of wind around Owen as the Longstrider spell. A fairly simple spell that gave its target some extra speed - in this case enough for the otherwise slow Owen to easily move out of the attack's way. And since even the ludicrously powerful Alva couldn't do much to prevent the warhammer's momentum, she was left open for a counterattack. In the form of a tightly closed fist about to be thrown her way.

"Apologies, miss. This one might be painful!" the paladin forewarned.

What followed was a punch thrown with the might of a supremely muscled giant of a Dragonborn behind it, delivered straight into Alva's exposed stomach. Owen was strong enough to bend iron bars and dent steel; any regular person would've been sent to their knees at best and broken their spine at worst. But Alva wasn't any regular person. Despite taking on such a blow, the Half-Orc was still standing. Groaning and bent over with a hand over her aching abs, but standing.

To Owen's credit, he got over his stunned surprise quickly. He took about a second to react in wide-eyed shock at his opponent's resilience, before immediately reaching for his shiny greatsword. But boosted by Longstrider or not, the Dragonborn still needed a few seconds to reach for his sword, unsheath it and swing the ponderous weapon. Seconds which enabled Alva to regain her composure enough to move her giant warhammer in front of the blade's path. And with a loud clang, the greatsword struck the thick metal handle of her weapon instead of flesh and bone. Which also meant that for a brief moment, the two contestants were right in each other's faces. So Alva went in for a counterattack. Her hands might've been occupied, so she would just have to use her head.

[WHAM!]

The paladin was sent stumbling backwards as he clutched his aching snout with his left hand. Alva's headbutt had been quick and haphazard, but still strong enough to really make him feel it. That would definitely leave a mark until that healing field did its thing. Regardless, with her enemy knocked back and herself back on her feet Alva couldn't resist. The opportunity for a classic taunt was too tempting.

"Don't you fucking dare apologise again, little holy man! This is a serious fight - don't just hold back like that! That flimsy punch felt more like a wet noodle, so you'd better hit me with all you've got if you wanna stand a chance here!" Alva demanded.

Owen had no answer. The gigantic Half-Orc had just demanded to be hit harder and give her all he had; something that couldn't be accomplished. Because that punch was all he had, at least regarding his regular unboosted level of strength. Just how strong was Alva? The Dragonborn wasn't sure if he wanted to learn the answer to that, only that he was going to need everything in his arsenal to keep up. Regular muscle power clearly wasn't going to cut it.

As for Alva, her confident taunt wasn't entirely justified. She might've blown off the gut punch as nothing, but despite her claims her stomach was still aching something fierce. Maybe the gap between them wasn't as wide as she wanted to believe. This conclusion led to the same thoughts as her opponent - Owen was not to be underestimated. If she wanted to win this, she was going to need everything in her arsenal.

"Mighty Tempus, Lord of Battles, lend me your strength so I may smite this opponent!" Owen sternly chanted.

Luckily, the divine being visibly answered his devout follower's request. At that moment, Owen's grandiose greatsword lit up like the sun itself. A glow that meant the divine power of Tempus now strengthened it; the power to smite his enemies. Not to mention the rising heat and steam around the weapon, which gave away that Owen had added a Branding Smite spell into the mix as well. An enormous greatsword backed by two separate smites, one burning with the heat of a forge and the other directly lended by a god… even Alva broke a sweat in concern. And since the paladin reared back his weapon to attack, she knew she had to pull up her own trick quickly. So as Owen brought down his enhanced blade upon her with a loud battlecry, the Half-Orc poured all her concentration towards her countermove. In this case the glowing rune that began to shine on her belt.

[KATHOOM!]

Judging by the loud shockwave the rune, written in the Giant language, had activated just in time. Those that had successfully trained to engrave these magical letters into their being - called Rune Knights by some - gained many useful abilities. In this case, a thin but durable barrier formed by spectral wordings and sentences in that language. Of course, it hadn't been able to fully block Owen's massive attack - Alva still sported a deep open wound in her right arm. But while her runic shield dissipated, so did the bright glow surrounding Owen's sword. Although there was no telling if and when he could use it again, and Alva was well aware that next time she might not end up so lucky. She was standing despite the great pain… the question was just if she'd get to stay that way.

"AND THE MATCH GETS OFF TO AN EARTH-SHAKING START! CONTESTANT MOLLY SEEMS TO HAVE CONTESTANT MORGAN IN CHECK, BUT WE'RE SURE TO SEE MORE FROM THE PATROLLER OF THE DEPTHS! HOPEFULLY! AND AS FOR THE CLASH OF THE TITANS THAT ARE CONTESTANTS ALVA AND OWEN, IT'S HARD TO SAY WHO'S COMING OUT ON TOP! ONLY TIME WILL TELL IF DIVINE POWER OR THE STRENGTH OF GIANTS WILL PREVAIL! IN OTHER WORDS: THIS HEATED MATCH HAS ONLY JUST BEGUN, PEOPLE!"

"Pssht, you call this a fight? I'll only need my claws to beat you!"

While Alva and Owen kept themselves occupied, Molly had almost effortlessly kept Morgan at bay. To the point that she ceased her periodical Fire Bolts to let her foe get back onto his feet - otherwise this match would just end up way too easy. So as soon as the reptilian soldier had regained his footing, Molly followed up her declaration by unsheathing her short but sharp claws out of her fingertips. One of many perks with having a dragon for an ancestor. Regardless, the Dwarf - perhaps somewhat recklessly - charged in with a wide grin. And since Morgan was still recovering from the relentless pelting of fiery embers, he failed to stop her from getting right in.

While nowhere near her girlfriend, Molly was still notably muscular. Add in the sharpness of her claws, and you get a pretty powerful slash attack - as Morgan just found out first hand. But while the few attacks she did land were enough to warrant some big open wounds and grunts of pain, the Dwarf merely managed to land about three slashes. Because Morgan, along with everything else, disappeared into a thick mist courtesy of the Fog Cloud he'd just managed to cast. Molly let out a frustrated snarl; figures that the loudmouth would have some spells up his sleeve. So the impatient sorcerer went back to the classic plan of just shooting Fire Bolts all around her in order to dispel the fog. At least… until the being lurking inside it lunged at her.

"AAAGGH!"

In her confidence, Molly had completely forgotten about Morgan's spiritually bonded partner. And now the draconic spectre known as Johann had not only joined the fray under the cover of the mist, but also sunk its very corporeal teeth into her left side. The fiery Dwarf tried a counterattack in the form of a heavy elbow, but such an attack was easily avoided - Johann simply faded back into the fog, before lunging out again from the other side. Then again. And again. And several hit-and-run lunges later, Molly was covered in several open puncture wounds. Whenever she'd tried to hit back, she'd just missed by a country mile. Of course, her rising temper didn't do much to help.

"You're a good fighter, miss Mineshaper! But when all you're packing is fire, my aquatic buddy here can handle you just fine!" Morgan laughed outside the fog cloud.

However, that laughter was quickly about to come to an end. Because in his confident claim, the ranger had ended up giving away his position. And while he couldn't see the intimidating grin from behind the fog, he could see the bright orange spot rapidly approaching him from within it. So he did what any sane person would - quickly throw himself to the side. And since the Burning Hands missed its target by mere inches, he did so just in time. But as it would turn out, landing it hadn't been Molly's intention. Morgan realised too late that the spell had blown away enough of the Fog Cloud for Molly to see him again.

"Fine then! You want variety? You'll get some godsdamn variety!" the sorcerer snarled.

With those words, the fired-up Dwarf started to crackle with magical energy. And before Morgan could do anything else, his enemy vanished. But in the same instant, down to the nanosecond, she reappeared - right in front of Morgan. And that was when the devastating boom reverberated across the battlefield from where the sorcerer had just stood.

[KRA-THOOOM!]

The Thunder Step spell was more than enough to instantly blow apart the fog cloud. And as the wide-eyed Morgan had just noticed, the same was almost true for his spectral friend within it. Johann had just taken the full brunt of a thundering shockwave, and it showed; the draconic spirit was visibly battered as streams of vapour were leaking out of its entire body. It was still on the field, but with notable difficulty. Which meant that it was in no position to help its master against the Dwarf that just rushed towards him with her claws bared. Thus Morgan was once again subjected to a series of painful slashes across his torso, but eventually the fired-up Molly stopped to retract said claws. But the soldier's relief at this was short-lived - his opponent had merely decided to switch things up a little.

The sorcerer followed up her assault by even more actions contradicting that title, this time in the form of several heavy punches to the face. And while she wasn't nearly as strong as her beloved teammate, Molly's repeated blows still elicited several grunts and cries of pain from her foe. Morgan wasn't sure what hurt more - the furious beatdown from Molly or his earlier assumption that the exceptionally muscular sorcerer wasn't gonna be a threat up close. Regardless, his thoughts were interrupted by a solid uppercut knocking him down to the floor. But while his entire upper body was aching, what happened next made him realise one unnerving thing. What was about to happen to Johann made Morgan realise that he'd just been toyed with.

"Don't think I forgot about you, you spooky bastard!" Molly shouted as she turned around.

The Dwarf's pointed finger began to shake as steadily brighter electrical sparks gathered around it. Meanwhile the air around Johann similarly began to swirl and crackle, as if a storm was brewing in that very spot. And with no commands from its disoriented master, not to mention the damage it had taken from the Thunder Step, the spirit couldn't do much to prevent it. So when Molly detonated the Storm Sphere with a sharp yell, the resulting thunderstrike practically tore it apart.

Geysers of vapour were spewing out of Johann's cracked and rapidly fading form, and the only thing louder than its agonised roar was the deafening crackle of thunder. It was to the point that several audience members found the scene difficult to watch. But neither their discomfort or Johann's pain was about to last much longer; Molly had just finished conjuring a sharp Ice Knife from her open hand. An Ice Knife that was more than enough to finish off the spiritual dragon as it was launched like a missile, easily piercing right through its head. Johann had reached its limit - after taking the full brunt of a magical storm, the spectre finally evaporated as its tether to this plane was broken. And with that out of the way, Molly quickly turned back to a trembling Morgan.

"You're next" the fiercely grinning Dwarf declared.

"UH-OH, LOOKS LIKE CONTESTANT MORGAN IS IN TROUBLE! FOR A MOMENT IT SEEMED LIKE HE AND HIS TRUSTY SPIRITUAL SIDEKICK WERE ABOUT TO TURN THE TIDE, BUT THAT'S WHEN CONTESTANT MOLLY SHOWED SHE CAN DO MORE THAN JUST TURN UP THE HEAT! HOW CAN THE PATROLLER OF THE DEPTHS MANAGE WITHOUT JOHANN? PERHAPS HE CAN PULL OFF THE COMEBACK OF THE CENTURY, OR PERHAPS NOT! LET'S HOPE THINGS ARE GOING BETTER FOR HIS DRAGONBORN ALLY!"

The two giants' brawl had gone back and forth while Molly and Morgan's thunderous clash had gone on behind them. But fueled by Googlorp's announcement of his teammate's situation, Owen quickly decided to change that. With another surge of divine magic, the Paladin infused his mighty weapon with the wavy particles of the spell Magic Weapon. Not as big of a boost as a smite, but it would do. At least from his perspective - if Alva's unimpressed expression was anything to go by, she didn't agree. So the Half-Orc simply fell back to wait for Owen to make a move. And as soon as he did in the form of a diagonal slash, she was ready to block and bash it away with the hammer handle.

The manoeuvre was successful; the hulking Dragonborn was sent reeling from the recoil. And although the boost from Magic Weapon had been enough to do the same to Alva, she was the one to power through it first. The Half-Orc suddenly dropped her ponderous weapon, and before Owen could react she lunged towards him to grab his wrist. With a loud grunt, she followed up with an as big of a punch she could muster with her free right hand. A blow that was heard as far up as the stands and which could break a common goblin's spine… but not a blow that was enough to fell Owen. His whole head was in immense pain, his skull was definitely cracked and he'd lost several of his teeth, but through some miracle the paladin was still standing. And if the freezing particles slowly gathering around the edges of his mouth was anything to go by, he was more than ready to launch a counterattack.

[FFSSSSSHHH!]

Thanks to his divine powers, great stature and even greater strength, Owen rarely had to use his innate Dragonborn ability. But all of the above tools had proven to not be enough against the mountain that was Alva. And so, put in a do or die situation, the paladin almost instinctively let loose a huge blast of freezing air from his maw; the tried and true Breath Weapon. Although just like his fellow Dragonborn Goh'ji, Owen couldn't keep up the attack for long without wrecking his throat. But while the blast was fairly brief, it had clearly had an effect. As the cold beam fizzled out, all eyes went towards Alva. And judging by the visible sheets of frost covering her forearms and chest, not to mention her steady shivering and slowed movements, she had clearly taken quite the hit.

"M-mighty Tempus, I require your aid once again!" Owen wheezed as he held up his sword.

His ability to speak clearly might've been compromised for the moment, but his connection to his deity wasn't. Thus the Dragonborn began to gather divine energy into his weapon for a second time… keyword being "began". Because the adrenaline-fueled Alva recklessly lunged out towards the sword with both hands. And seeing as she'd just been literally frozen in place, Owen failed to react in time. Now the Half-Orc was holding on to the greatsword's crossguard as she violently tried to tear it from her opponent's grip, but since that grip was still amazingly strong that effort seemed to go nowhere. At least until she raised her right leg.

"Hnnngh… give me that thing!" Alva grunted.

With those words, the massive warrior kicked the resisting Owen in the gut as hard as she could. The paladin immediately let go of the sword as he fell on his bum with a gasp, which meant that the staggering Alva now had his only weapon in her hands. But unluckily for him, she planned to change that. First she threw it down onto the dusty ground, before reaching for her ponderous warhammer. And with a humongous crash and possibly even a shockwave, she brought it down hard. Now Owen's prized greatsword was nothing but a pile of shattered pieces. Seeing his trusted weapon smashed apart had clearly left his morale damaged as well - as he got up to his feet, he did so with a look of visible distress. But despite this loss, the bulky Dragonborn was far from out. He wasn't about to give up just yet.

"Very well, you leave me no choice. I'm gonna have to pull out my trump card now, miss Morrison!" Owen declared.

Alva simply snickered as she wiped off some of the frost left from her opponent's icy blast. And from the tone of it, she was laughing at him rather than with him.

"Fucking finally. I guess it's only fair if I'll do the same, then!" Alva grinned.

And so as their respective partners' brawl turned more towards Molly's favour, the two behemoths began to make their preparations. Very soon, their battle would turn up to the extremes.

While the battle below was tense and brutal, the stands were a relaxing daydream in comparison. Most of the other contestants, like Prime, Goh'ji and Ashes, followed every move with intense excitement. Others, like Pulse and Abigail, were deep in thought regarding anything from their next bout to the bizarre sensation from earlier. And yet others were somewhere in between.

"Ouch, that looked horrible! Do they have to be so brutal out there?"

She might've learned a thing or two about moralities and the complexity of people, but Root was still guided by a mind formed of compassion. So whenever a big blow had been dealt, she had similarly winced in recoil of the sight. And given how she'd reacted to the sight of petty violence earlier, there was little surprise that her friends had some worries.

"You doing okay? You know, nobody blames you if you can't watch this" a certain Drow affirmed.

Eerie feeling in the atmosphere or not, Pulse still didn't hesitate to check in on everyone's Genasi friend. She wouldn't be able to think properly as long as Root - or any of her close friends, really - were in turmoil. But thankfully, it seemed like her worries were unneeded; Root shook her head with a smile in response.

"Thank you, but I'm okay. It was just… that big storm from Miss Molly reminded me of a big fight I was part of not long ago. But it's okay now, thanks for aski-"

Root stopped mid-sentence as her eyes went wide. And Pulse knew exactly why - she felt the exact same thing. A very familiar, but even stronger than before, feeling.

Something felt very very wrong.

"Hey, are you two okay? You both look like you've seen a ghost" the purple figure behind them questioned.

Given his puzzled expression it was clear that while both Root and Pulse had felt it, John had not. He was still his normal cheerless self, if only a bit thrown off at his friends' sudden alarm. A feeling that turned towards slight ire as it became clear that said friends hadn't even heard him.

"T-this is… what was that? It felt like part of reality itself just…" Root stuttered.

"Just glitched out, I know. And if you only felt it just now, then… hmm. It seems that whatever this is, only those with arcane magical properties felt it at first. But now it's strong enough that Root with her natural magical properties could sense it, which might mean that… hey dad, did you feel something really off just now?" Pulse mumbled under her breath, barring her last sentence which was clearly aimed towards Vuzrak.

While she didn't get an audible answer, Pulse's deduction had been right on the money - Vuzrak sported a similarly unnerved expression as Root did, and with his limited telepathic means of communication he shared a strong sense of worry. Although that was as far as the mechanic's investigation got before her friend loudly cleared his throat.

"Okay, somebody better start explaining what you're all so scared of. Because I have absolutely no idea why I'm apparently supposed to be so terrified " John grunted.

Pulse quickly turned to face him with a somewhat sheepish expression, before going back to her previous serious one.

"Ah, sorry. I'll give you the quick recap. So earlier during the first round, me and Abby felt something alarming in the atmosphere. It's hard to describe, but basically it was as if a part of reality itself glitched and turned inside out at the same time. It could just be some cosmic anomaly in this pocket dimension, but given just how wrong it felt I'm certain it's something much worse" the Drow explained.

She paused her description to look out over the stands, and once again her suspicions were confirmed. On the top row, Abigail was practically quivering. In the upper left corner, both Gameron and professor Suss stared wide-eyed as they muttered something. And one row behind Pulse, Root and John, Bastion let out a gasp as she almost fell out of her seat. Just like Pulse had feared.

"At first it was just me and Abby - dad felt nothing and you sounded like this is your first time, Root. This means those of us who're attuned to arcane magic felt it first, especially since the wizards up there really look like this isn't new to them. Barring the spellcasters down on the field right now who're probably too occupied with their tussle to feel anything else, and now every magic user among us has sensed the glitch. Which means that whatever is happening, it's getting stronger. And maybe… closer" Pulse concluded.

A tense silence fell over the Drow and her friends. Her reasoning had sounded logical, and therefore nobody could argue against her ominous deduction. The mechanic knew she had to come to some sort of plan, and to do that she'd need to relay this information to everyone else. Of course, she'd need to wait with putting her plan in action until the tournament ended - as long as it raged on there was no way anyone currently out on the battlefield, not to mention the excited Prime and Goh'ji, could put their minds to anything else. A mental note that was just about to prove itself true.

"Well, speaking of getting stronger…" John muttered as he pointed towards the battle beneath him.

The ground beneath the massive brawlers' feet violently rumbled as they activated their respective trump cards. With no incentives to hold back left, Owen had prayed to Tempus to imbue him with all the strength the deity could spare. And after adding the spell Enhance Ability on top, the Dragonborn had fully powered up. Every muscle in his already giant body had swelled to a truly colossal degree; if it weren't for the Longstrider spell still enhancing his speed and agility, it was doubtful that he'd be able to move his excessively overgrown limbs at all. At the same time, his opponent's enormous form had finished growing even more massive. As the glowing black runes covering her body faded away, said body had settled in at almost 5 metres in height - roughly twice her regular stature. With most likely at least twice the strength to go with it.

"Very well, miss! It has all come down to this - my full strength against yours! Let's see if the power of Giants can overcome the full might of a Hammer of Tempus!" Owen declared.

Alva practically snickered in eager anticipation. Of course, since said snicker came from a towering wall of a woman it could be heard clearly by everyone watching.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, little guy. Stop yapping and just come at me already!" the Half-Orc demanded in a booming voice.

Owen responded by putting up his fists in front of him, ready to comply and give all he had in him. But given his unfocused gaze and audible gulp, he still had clear doubts and fears clouding his mind. Something that only increased with Alva's next action. Without warning, the oversized warrior dropped her similarly increased warhammer to the ground with a massive thud. And as she put up her hands as well, she dropped one more nonchalant tidbit.

"There, now it's a bit more fair. Let's go!"

With those words, the gigantic Half-Orc started running towards her nervous foe with thundering steps. And as Owen forced himself to bury this nervousness beneath questionably genuine bravery, he followed suit and started to pick up speed for a heavy shoulder tackle. Over three tons of collective muscle was about to collide.

[BBARROOOOOMM!]

"HOLY MOLEY PEOPLE, DID YOU FEEL THAT? EVEN I FELT THAT SHOCKWAVE, AND I'M BEHIND REINFORCED GLASS! THESE TWO ARE THE STRONGEST THIS TOURNAMENT - AND THEREFORE PROBABLY THE MULTIVERSE - HAS TO OFFER, AND NOW THEY'VE FINALLY BEGUN THEIR ULTIMATE CLASH! WHOEVER WINS THIS CAN TAKE HOME A GOLD MEDAL AMONG ALL OF CREATION, THAT'S FOR SURE! AT THIS POINT, CAN THIS ARENA EVEN HOLD THEM WITHOUT CRUMBLING TO PIECES? LET'S HOPE THAT WAS JUST AN EXAGGERATION!"

Googlorp might've overhyped their destructive capabilities, but he didn't lie about the shockwave from Alva's and Owen's collision. Yet despite the monumental crash, neither of them seemed that much more damaged than before. Of course, both planned to change that. Alva started off with a heavy knee to the Dragonborn's stomach, and in her magnified state the attack was strong enough to make him gag in pain. So he followed suit with a cumbersome but impactful kick in Alva's right leg; an improvised blow, but quite effective. Of course, by the time he'd pulled his leg back Alva had already landed a couple big jabs in his chest. Each of these blows powerful enough to be compared to cannonballs.

Over the next minute or so, the trade of meteoric attacks continued. But towards the end of that minute, the situation became clearer and clearer. Longstrider or not, Owen's strength still came from his grossly overgrown muscles. He physically couldn't move his arms beyond a glacial pace, despite the incalculable power that coursed through them. Meanwhile Alva had simply doubled her size in all dimensions, and could thus move about as unhindered as before barring a comparatively small decrease in speed. In short - the Half-Orc had landed many more attacks than Owen had. Not to mention how each of those had been thoughtfully delivered at the right place at the right pace compared to Owen's seemingly haphazard blows; the paladin was notably lacking not just in terms of speed, but hand-to-hand skill as well. Despite his impossibly huge frame, Owen could very well lose this.

However, Alva wasn't as confident as she'd been just before. She might've repeatedly hit Owen with enough force to bring down a house, but at the same time she was in more pain than she'd been in years. Especially from that last elbow - if she still had guts, she could barely feel them. The paladin was more than enough to keep up with her after all. Despite her colossal stature, Alva could very well lose this.

"Heh, not bad. But this is just dragging on at this point. Wanna settle this in one go, little guy?" the Half-Orc asked through her heavy breathing.

Owen wasn't entirely sure if he did. One part of him took his throbbing bruises and blood through his mouth as a sign to just stop fighting and surrender. But the other part, the devoted cleric of the war god Tempus, said otherwise. That part told him to fight as long as he could still draw breath. And as usual, the decision was quickly made.

"I do. Let's find out who's stronger, once and for all!" the Dragonborn answered in a strained tone.

And so, with no more tricks up their sleeves, the gigantic brawlers charged at the other one last time. They had already hit their limits; now it was just the question of who'd succumb to them first. After several earth-shaking steps, both Owen and Alva thrusted their massive arms out to grab the other's tense hands. And then they started to push. Their heavy grunts and red faces told that this time, they were giving every ounce of effort left in them. Only one warrior would come out of this grappling hold left standing.

"Looks like Owen and your beloved are finally going all-out! So I guess it's only right that we'll do the same!"

On the other side of the battlefield, the other halves of Teams Righteous and Hot Stuff were reaching the climax of their own fight. And unlike his Dragonborn comrade, despite Molly's relentless assaults Morgan's optimism hadn't waved in the slightest. Of course, it had taken everything he had in him to stave off the Dwarf's fiery blasts and unrelenting claws this long. Especially with Johann out of the picture. Good thing he still had not just his trusted main weapon remaining, but his seldomly used spellcasting as well. Turns out that an otherwise losing battle was a perfectly good reason to need it.

As fast as his tired arms could manage, the reptilian soldier grabbed the longbow strapped to his back along with an arrow. Luckily Molly made no moves to stop him - most likely she was completely confident in her ability to stop that arrow. Even when the arrow started to pulsate with jagged green magical energy. And so Morgan fired the projectile straight up into the air, where it rapidly split apart into two. And then into four. And then eight. Seconds later, the singular arrow had multiplied into a storm of identical copies that almost blocked out the bright spotlight. Morgan hadn't needed to use the Conjure Barrage spell since his match against Prime last year; frankly, he was almost surprised he'd managed to pull it off without a hitch. But as he looked over to his opponent, that contentment turned into alarm. Because Molly wasn't at all scared, alert or even moving. The sorcerer was, in fact, yawning.

"Oh please, don't tell me that's your best shot. Anyway, here's mine" Molly retorted in a deadpan tone.

At that point her unimpressed face suddenly turned serious - not from the rain of arrows above her, but from the focus needed for her spell. First she put her cupped hands to her side, whereupon she started to gather flaming magical energy. A lot of it. The spell quickly grew from a few sizzling embers to a raging inferno, to the point that Molly seemed to struggle to contain it. And since the arrows' trajectory had just been overtaken and guided towards her by gravity, Molly thrusted her arms towards them as she launched the huge Fireball. With explosive results.

[KABOOOMM!]

Every magic user worth their salt knows just how destructive a detonated Fireball can be. In this case the fiery explosion lighting up the starry sky was more than enough to blast every single conjured arrow to atoms, with the remains of those outside point zero being blown harmlessly to all sides. But while Molly looked over her handiwork with a confident grin, that grin soon disappeared. Thanks to the sharp pain puncturing her stomach.

"OOH, THAT'S GOTTA HURT! CONTESTANT MOLLY MIGHT HAVE REDUCED CONTESTANT MORGAN'S PIERCING RAIN TO NOTHINGNESS, BUT THE PATROLLER OF THE DEPTHS PROVES THAT HE ISN'T ONE TO MISS AN OPPORTUNITY! THE FEROCIOUS BLAZE MIGHT BE TOUGH, BUT EVEN SHE'S GOTTA HAVE FELT THOSE THORNS IN HER GUTS! THIS MIGHT NOT BE OVER JUST YET, FOLKS!"

Unfortunately for Molly, her opponent hadn't taken his strongest spell being nullified lying down. The Dwarf had been left open after the heavy movements of casting the Fireball, and therefore the soldier had taken the shot. Thus the Hail of Thorns had struck Molly right in the stomach, which meant that several large spikes had lodged themselves in there. Not enough to go through her, but more than enough to draw quite a bit of blood. Finally, Morgan had landed a proper hit… a hit that had only served to reignite the sorcerer's ire.

"Why you little… that's it, I'm gonna fucking-"

But luckily, Morgan didn't get to hear what Molly was gonna say. It seemed she'd managed to catch herself raising her temper at the cost of her bearings; something that rarely ended well in a fight. So instead of throwing herself into an instinctual rage, the Dwarf clutched her head to force herself to breathe and calm down a notch. A difficult task, but she managed it well enough. Although she did still let out a fierce snarl - but seeing as it came from the pain of ripping out the thorns stuck in her abs, it was understandable. So as her red top turned a bit redder around her stomach, Molly took action. This had been a blast, but it was about time to wrap it up.

"...disarm you and then finish you off" the Dwarf sputtered, finishing her earlier sentence.

Instead of charging in like she'd almost just done, Molly quickly pointed two of her fingers towards Morgan. And while the soldier stood ready to avoid whatever came next, he quickly found out that he'd done that in vain. Because what came towards him was a small swarm of repeatedly fired Firebolts; a small and fairly weak spell, but one that drained little to no magic and could thus be used as much as the caster wanted. Or at least until their body couldn't handle more. Nevertheless, Morgan had little choice but to start running in circles to avoid the attacks. A tactic which seemed to work… until one stray bolt hit him in the leg. Which stopped him long enough for Molly to hit her true target.

[FWOOM!]

For a moment, Morgan could feel his hands heat up something fierce. A telltale sign for him to drop his now ignited bow to the ground, whereupon it quickly burned to crumbled ashes. In hindsight, the humanoid Mosasaurus chastised himself - of course a fire user would think of incinerating his main weapon, especially since it was made out of wood. But this still meant that Morgan now had nothing but his fists, combat training and some spells that he had very little experience in wielding. And as if to mock him, the ground began to rumble around the arena. The soldier let out a frustrated groan; of course those walls would pop up just half a minute after he needed them. Not only was Molly in a much better position, but luck seemed to be on her side too.

Yet despite this, he put up his flipper-adorned fists in front of him accompanied by an impressed smile. As long as he had his upbeat attitude, he was never without options.

"Good thinking, miss Mineshaper! Your skills and fighting spirit are very impressive to say the least!" Morgan guffawed.

But unlike what he had expected, Molly just laughed it off. Instead she just pointed towards the other end of the arena.

"Pssht, this ain't nothing. If you want impressive, then just turn that head of yours around!" the Dwarf snickered.

Seeing as the confident Molly didn't appear to be about to attack, Morgan did just as she suggested. An action he was about to regret. Because Owen's and Alva's grappler hold was about to end, and the result was certain to decide the fates of Team Righteous respective Team Hot Stuff.

For the whole time between Morgan's Conjure Barrage and Molly telling him to turn around, the supercharged Owen and Alva had pushed back and forth. Sometimes Alva had held the advantage, sometimes Owen had claimed it. But not even the strongest of warriors can keep going forever; one side would eventually have to budge. And so after a long struggle that had shaken the earth and had been felt all the way to the stands, one brawler eventually lost the grapple.

Owen had finally reached his limit.

Not even the paladin's ginormous muscles were enough to overpower his much larger, and almost as built, opponent. Thus his legs buckled from the strain as he got pushed down on his knees - and therefore he was open for Alva to deliver the finisher. With a ferocious grin, the Half-Orc lunged out her tired arm to grab the Dragonborn's head. And then she slammed it as hard as she could into the dirt.

[THROOOMM!]

The meteoric impact not only cracked the ground, but also knocked up a massive cloud of dust. And as the sickening boom died down and the dust settled, the shocked audience got a good look at Owen's fallen form. It was a good thing that he was lying on his back - the alarmingly huge crack in his skull and blooded scales were not a pretty sight. But for the broken paladin, his overwhelming pain and blurry vision wasn't the worst part. Rather, that was the fact that his overengorged muscles had returned to their usual size after the immense blow. He could still move, but with a titanic Half-Orc towering over him he doubted he'd even get the chance.

"Hhnngh… it seems you got me. All the might of a Hammer of Tempus… wasn't enough. Truly impressive…" Owen weakly stuttered.

He was beaten and he knew it. No weapon, no divine super strength and one hell of a head wound; he was lucky he was even alive, let alone breathing. However, that bittersweetness soon turned into rampant horror. Because Alva had gone over to pick up her colossal warhammer, before raising it above her head. And right as she began to speak, Owen was struck with a horrid realisation. The Half-Orc had no plans to leave anything up to chance.

"You're godsdamn right. You were good, but not good enough. But in the end… fuck it, let's just wrap this up already!" Alva laid out.

Those deflating words were the last Owen Whitlock heard. What followed was the visage of an impossibly large hammerhead careening towards his direction… and then nothing. The impact had completely crushed both his head and his entire torso to the point of leaving nothing but a flattened heap of bloodied flesh and bone shards, but luckily he never got the chance to feel that. The meteoric slam had been more than enough to instantly snuff all semblance of life out of him.

Every movement in the arena completely stopped. No sounds were made after the deafening noise of Alva's warhammer practically cracking both Owen and the ground beneath him open, and no cheers were made after everyone saw what was left of the Dragonborn. And while Morgan was staring wide-eyed in disbelief and horror and Molly was recoiling a bit, Alva simply let out an inaudible sigh of strain. No hints of regret, remorse or even pleasure. Just another tired exhale born from just another defeated enemy. But eventually, the silence was broken just like always. Even though the results were obvious, the tournament's fairies still had a job to do.

"LKO - Lethal Knockout!"

"HOLY MOTHER OF MILIL, I HOPE ALL YOU PARENTS IN THE AUDIENCE MADE YOUR KIDS LOOK AWAY! IN THE CLASH BETWEEN CONTESTANTS ALVA AND OWEN, THE FORMER COMES OUT AS THE STRONGER ONE! AND WITH THE SANCTIMONIOUS STRONGMAN FLATTENED LIKE A DRACONIC PANCAKE, WE HAVE OUR FIRST CASUALTY OF THE FIGHT! LEAVING CONTESTANT MORGAN TO CARRY ON TEAM RIGHTEOUS' SPIRIT ALONE!"

The loud cries told that no, not every parent had followed Googlorp's advice in time. But no matter how horrified kids and adults alike among the audience were, they had nothing on the stuttering Morgan. Of course, his unrestrained tears and inelegant rebuttals of what had just happened weren't questioned by anyone. What else are you supposed to do when your closest friend brutally dies before you? But before those feelings could progress to despair or vengeful anger, the griefstruck soldier was interrupted by a casual sigh behind him.

"What's with all the ruckus? You remember he'll get revived as soon as we're done, right?" Molly bluntly reminded him.

This temporarily forgotten fact was enough for Morgan to stop hyperventilating. The sight of his close comrade brutally dying had resulted in him briefly losing the grip on everything else, including the already demonstrated rule that made that death moot. And more importantly, it had made him forget that said comrade would never have wanted him to break down like this. Not if he died for real, and especially not now. So despite his heavily damaged state, the humanoid Mosasaurus stood up. The gaze from his narrow yellow eyes burned as determined as ever.

"You're right, miss Mineshaper. But until that happens, it's up to me to carry on in his stead. I might be out of allies and weapons, but I will keep fighting in Owen's name nonetheless! So come on, both of you - I'm not out just yet!" Morgan earnestly declared.

However, his revitalisation would prove to be short-lived. Because Molly had sauntered up to him while he'd held his little speech… and in his wounded state, Morgan could do nothing to prevent the Dwarf from grabbing his wrists. And at that moment, the soldier realised the same thing that Owen just had.

He'd never stood a chance to begin with.

"Yeah… you are" Molly contradicted him.

At that moment the wildfires of the hells erupted between them. Without letting go of her opponent, Molly ignited her hands to cast a Flaming Sphere spell. And right as she stepped back to avoid immolation from her own spell, every part of Morgan above his knees burst into flame. The ranger had already taken a serious beating during the match; being consumed by a steady sphere of red-hot fire was more than he could handle. And so, through the deafening roar of the blaze, he screamed. Screams which only turned louder and more bloodcurdling as Molly threw in an extra Burning Hands for good measure. But as Morgan burned more and more and as he grew ever closer to utter immolation… the assault stopped. He'd been charred from head to toe, but Molly did not finish him off.

"You know what? I ain't gonna keep torturing you like this. You're a nice guy and a decent fighter - you don't deserve to burn like the hells" the sorcerer sighed.

It was hard to make out any expressions on Morgan's singed and exhausted face, but a hint of surprised relief did pierce through his strained agony. Molly might've been relentless and anything but soft, but she wasn't a monster. She knew full well what a real monster looked like, and those memories would always hold her back from reaching their level. Instead she just began to gather particles of black and gold magical particles around her hands; she might've stopped herself from torturing Morgan, but that only meant she wasn't going to make the end drawn out.

"Good game, big-jaws. You did your best" Molly added as she cast the Vortex Warp.

Morgan had trouble focusing on anything other than the pain across his body, so whereas anyone else would get a bit dizzy from having themselves warped several metres away in an instant he barely registered it. However, he did register where he ended up… or rather, the almost 5 metre tall wall of muscle right in front of him. But he was done for, and he knew it. So when Alva placed her massive hand around his skull, he did not resist. Morgan Sarun had never been one to give in to hopelessness, right up until his last moments. And as those last moments came, everything around him went black.

[SKRCNH!]

As easily as one would break an egg, Alva finished off the beaten Morgan by crushing his skull with one hand. A quick and in her mind merciful death - it was either this or letting his life slowly ebb out due to his severe burns. Thus both members of Team Righteous had been handily defeated, leaving only the relatively well off Alva and Molly on the silent battlefield. Them, and the cap-wearing fairy that reentered the scene to officially announce the result.

"LKO -Lethal Knockout!"

"YOU CAN OPEN YOUR EYES AGAIN, FOLKS - THE BLOODBATH IS OVER, AND WE HAVE OUR WINNERS! CONTESTANT OWEN MIGHT'VE SHOWED OTHERWORLDLY STRENGTH AND CONTESTANT MORGAN MIGHT'VE DISPLAYED UNPARALLELLED DEVOTION, BUT IN THE END THEY COULDN'T HOLD A CANDLE TO TEAM HOT STUFF'S OVERWHELMING POWER AND BRUTALITY! IN OTHER WORDS, CONTESTANTS ALVA AND MOLLY ARE OUR FOURTH AND LAST SEMIFINALISTS!" a slightly shaken Googlorp announced.

For the second round in a row, the audience's cheers appeared somewhat torn. Some of them had a similar reaction to when Root had been one of the winners; in other words, they were scared. Scared of the sheer levels of unrepentant violence they had just witnessed. However, these unnerved reactions were drowned out by the majority of the other contestants. About two thirds of the crowd cheered like never before, to the point that the volume almost reached its usual levels. Blood, violence and brutality be damned - Team Hot Stuff's fans were appreciative as always. Whether or not that was a problem depends on who you ask.

While Alva took in all the cheers like always, she also slumped down against one of the walls as she quickly shrunk back to normal. For all her boasting and confident taunts, victory hadn't been as flawless as she'd claimed. She sported several nasty bruises all over her torso, not to mention the possible cracks in a few bones. The Half-Orc definitely needed a breather, that was certain. And as if to add to her positive feelings, her beloved teammate quickly joined her.

"You doing okay, babe? You took some pretty big hits back there" Molly asked.

As usual, Molly couldn't help but worry about Alva's well-being. And also as usual, Alva reassuringly laughed it off.

"What, you thought I was in trouble? Against someone like him? No need to worry, Mol' - that guy couldn't even begin to beat me in a thousand years!" Alva confidently boasted, before leaning down for a quick kiss.

"Although… you don't happen to have any healing spells on you?" the huge warrior sheepishly added.

Molly gave her girlfriend an impish smile; times were few that Alva managed to hide something from her, and this time had been no exception. The Dwarf chuckled somewhat as she gave Alva a playful jab in the side, before giving her the expected answer.

"No can do, Alva. You know that ain't my thing" Molly reminded her.

But luckily for the victorious roughnecks, healing spells were unnecessary. Right on cue, a bright light began to shine underneath them across the battlefield. Although not the shiny white light that they'd gotten used to. As Team Righteous had both violently kicked the bucket, the light that covered the field was meant to fix that. And thus their untimely demises were rapidly undone - Owen's flattened torso practically inflated back to normal like an inflated balloon, while Morgan's squished skull did the same. Of course, their less mortal wounds remained. Good thing then that the more familiar white light began to shine all across the arena.

By now the fact that the magical field appeared to target the gravest of wounds first had become clear, and so the first to begin healing was Morgan. The reptilian soldier's numerous burn wounds disappeared, his numerous scars closed up and even his lost teeth flew right back where they belonged. His eyes even opened just in time to witness this strange sight. Meanwhile Owen's broken bones were fixed up, his cracked skull fused back together and his shattered sword flawlessly repaired itself. However, when his eyes opened they barely noticed anything around him. Not his revived curious teammate, nor the similarly healed - albeit not nearly as much as him and Morgan - Team Hot Stuff. As it turned out, he was still in the middle of an entirely different conversation.

"But almighty Tempus, I cannot in good conscience call myself a wor… huh? Ah, right. The revival field" Owen scrambled as he realised where he was.

The Dragonborn rapidly blinked while looking around, as if readjusting his eyes to the comparatively darker field. Comparatively to the bright afterlife, that is. For but a brief moment, Owen had been in that bright void between the material plane and the planes beyond. And as a devoted paladin to the mighty Foehammer, he had been brought before a fierce presence that he'd known in his heart of hearts was the war god himself. He had, in fact, been brought before Tempus himself. But right as he'd begun denying the faceless presence's words of approval, he was right back on the battlefield again. In perfect time to remember the pain right before his last moments.

"So that's what it's like. Apologies, miss Bastion. Now I know how you felt last year" the paladin thought to himself.

The pain of having most of his body completely demolished… not something that Owen would've wished on anyone. Especially not someone he considered an innocent soul such as Bastion, who he'd ended up doing the same to during the previous tournament. But barring the postliminary regret of that act, the Dragonborn's distraught expression did not come from his own brush with death. His lingering negativity came from a much less brief issue.

"I'm sorry, Morgan. I couldn't help you out there, let alone help myself. In the end, we lost handily after all" Owen mumbled.

Morgan had told him earlier to not sound so doubtful, but here he was doing the exact opposite. Such a complete defeat, despite claiming to be a paladin of the mighty Tempus… Owen was not in a good place right now. But the reptilian extrovert that he called friend was. And as Morgan heartily slapped his downtrodden teammate on the back, he was about to do his best to spread that spirit.

"Come on Owen, that doesn't matter! We did all we could, and our opponents were simply better! I don't see any shame in losing due to that - frankly, I'm quite surprised I kept up with everyone as well as I did! Especially compared to you, my friend!" Morgan bellowed.

The Mosasaurus hybrid's attitude could light up even the darkest void - Owen's doubts were child's play in comparison. If Morgan could be that upbeat despite the loss, why couldn't he? For the moment, Owen could put his doubts to the side and wave back to the crowd alongside his trusted comrade. For the moment.

"AND WITH THAT, WE'LL THANK TEAM RIGHTEOUS FOR THE BEST PERFORMANCE THEY COULD MUSTER! AND WE'LL CONGRATULATE TEAM HOT STUFF FOR AN ALMOST OVERWHELMING VICTORY! BUT YOU ALL KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS - NOW WE HAVE OUR SEMIFINALISTS! TEAM HOT STUFF JOINS TEAMS FULL POWER, OVERDARK AND TREESHADE IN OUR TOP 4, AND TOMORROW THAT NUMBER WILL DWINDLE TO THE TOP 2… AND THEN, RIGHT AFTERWARDS, THE TOP 1 TEAM IN THE MULTIVERSE! TOMORROW, WE'LL GO ALL THE WAY TO THE FINAL BATTLE! SO REST UP, PREPARE YOURSELVES AND VISIT OUR GIFT SHOP BY THE LOBBY, AND WE'LL CONTINUE THE FIGHT… TOMORROW! THIS IS YOUR ANNOUNCER, GOOGLORP - SIGNING OFF!"

As Alva and Molly happily went back to the red corner's waiting room, Owen and Morgan did the same towards the blue corner. But while Morgan maintained his optimistic mood, his Dragonborn teammate did not. Turns out that to uproot self-doubts and lack of faith, you need a lot more than just a reassuring talk. After all, Owen still fell short compared to everyone else, didn't he? He was no supergenius like Pulse or Abigail, he was no master of fighting arts like Prime or Goh'ji, he was no mage like Molly or the wizards, he had no high spirits like Morgan and compared to Alva his strength was nothing. If everyone around him were such prodigies… then why even keep some no-good paladin of Tempus around?

"Morgan… what do you even see in someone like m-"

The culmination of Owen's hurtful thoughts was interrupted by a completely new feeling. Something far above him had drowned out even his doubts and emotions. Something far worse now filled every corner of his mind.

Something was very very wrong.

"What in all that is holy… Owen, you felt that too, right? That… empty warped feeling?" Morgan stuttered in horror.

Owen just nodded in disbelief. As a man of the cloth, he was well-versed in the presence of the divine. This thing was similar, but at the same time the complete opposite. Had it been here all along and he'd just been distracted by the fight? Or had this just made itself known? He had many questions, but none of the answers.

"Was that your god or something? Just popping in to give his greetings, or…?" Morgan worriedly asked.

That was an answer Owen knew full well. So as he shook his head, he made his thoughts clear.

"Not even close, Alva. This shit is AT LEAST as bad as Glasya!"

Over in the other corridor, a very similar scene was taking place. But while both Morgan and Alva had wondered if the sensation came from an otherworldly source, their guesses had been more or less polar opposites - the Half-Orc had immediately guessed that her girlfriend's sudden panic was the result of the Archdevil Glasya, not unlike what had occurred in Molly's past. Although where Morgan had been similarly terrified, Alva was simply confused. After all, she hadn't felt a single thing. But as a sorcerer, Molly was a different story. Her impressive attunement to the arcane had resulted in a strong enough sensation to almost bowl her over.

"What kind of thingamajig even is that strong? And why would it pop up right now?" Alva worried as she steadied the reeling Molly.

However, the Dwarf shook her head. She didn't have an answer for Alva's first question, but the second one was another thing.

"Because this ain't the first time. I actually felt it a few hours earlier, around when the lizard wizards and the loud knuckleheads were fighting. I think both the tinkerers did too, 'cause they looked worried and started to talk about something a few minutes afterwards. But I didn't think it was anything serious, not to mention how I had no fucking idea what it even was. Frankly, I completely forgot about it when our turn to fight came up. Hence why I didn't tell you 'till now - besides, I didn't want to distract you from the tournament over something that might've been nothing. But trust me… it's big. Real big" Molly explained.

Very few things were capable of shaking up Alva Morrison, but the honest horrified look on her girlfriend's face had now turned out to be one of them. She had felt nothing, but if Molly had said it was there then it was there. Something beyond anyone's comprehension, slowly but surely getting stronger… what do you even do in the face of that?

"When I first felt it, it was over in just a few seconds and was more a bad omen than anything. Right now it lasted almost half a minute and felt like a chill down the back. So if it keeps up at this pace… it's gonna be here in at least a day. In other words, we can focus on winning this thing first; not much we can do against an unknown cosmic glitch anyway. But Alva… when it gets here, it's gonna be bad. Maybe world-endingly bad. So depending on what lands here tomorrow, we should get ready to fight. Or more likely, get the hells away from here" Molly forewarned.

"We will, Molly. Whatever happens, we'll face it together. No amount of cosmic apocalypses can stand in our way" Alva affirmed.

The two roughnecks made their way out and back to the contestants' lodge in fearful silence. And judging by the similarly worried looks on the other 14 contestants gradually returning there as well, it was a safe bet that the same thoughts went through their heads too. Tomorrow they would fight on to claim the title of the multiverse's greatest team, but after that? They might've needed to fight to claim the right to keep living. Or run for their lives in the face of unconquerable doom. There was only one way to find out.

The Multiversal Tournament had reached its halfway point, and the final end was slowly but surely getting nearer.