Part 28: Sparring with the Infinite
The air in the Dead Land grew heavy, vibrating with two opposing, colossal energies that met and mingled like storm fronts. The sheer anticipation of the confrontation was a physical weight.
"Hmph. Guys, I think we need to leave for a safe space," Jog-Jog muttered, the massive muscles in his shoulders twitching as he felt the energy swelling around them.
Arike, the silent guardian, responded instantly. "Yeah, I think so too. And it should be as far as we can get, immediately."
Without a second thought, the young warriors—Black, Kai, Lena, Maya, Jog-Jog, and Arike—moved. Their enhanced speed, once a tool for escape, now became a desperate flight from the chaos about to erupt—the "friendly" reunion of two entities who preferred sparring to eating and drinking to catch up on lost time.
In the distance, Dr. Orion was a whirlwind of shifting mass. He was taking on his perfect, pre-Demon Man form—a towering figure of pure, luminous intellect, a body designed for cosmic combat, shedding the withered remnants of his mortal shell. He moved in sweeping, elaborate gestures, stretching and preparing for the fight.
As they sped away, the anxiety of the situation finally broke through Kai's fear, finding release in nervous energy.
"Go faster, Black!" Kai shouted over the wind. "I'm telling you, I felt Solon laugh! He thinks this is hilarious! We're running from comedy!"
Black, a dark blur beside him, kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, his tone grim. "I felt that laugh too, Kai. It sounded like an asteroid collision. Just focus on putting miles between us and that 'comedy.'"
Maya, her augmented brain running calculations at impossible speed, chimed in, breathless. "Running is our most statistically sound option! If they're using 'sparring' as a euphemism for 'casual reality-shattering,' we need to cross at least fifty kilometers to mitigate the kinetic backlash of their high-fives!"
At the burgeoning epicenter of power, Markas, the terrified Syndicate soldier, stood shaking next to Jex. He was still trembling, his uniform soiled, but the proximity to the calm boy had given him a strange, almost hypnotic resignation.
"Ermm… Sir?" Markas stammered, his voice a pathetic squeak. "Am I… am I joining in on this fight?"
Jex looked at him, his brilliant smile lighting up his face. He began to laugh, a clear, bell-like sound that seemed utterly out of place. Then, abruptly, his smile vanished, his features turning cold and neutral.
"You're a jester, Markas. Not a warrior," Jex said, his voice flat. "But you will watch."
With a simple flick of his wrist, Jex warped Markas in a shimmering, glowing bubble of pure energy. The soldier gasped, suspended fifty feet in the air, his fear momentarily replaced by bewildering nausea. The energy was not a prison; it was a perfect, self-sustaining kinetic containment field, designed only to observe.
As the distance between the two friends reduced to mere feet, the distance between the fleeing team and the epicenter of chaos increased. They fled desperately, knowing their lives depended on escaping the backlash of this so-called friendly reunion spar between two entities whose scope of power they couldn't even begin to imagine.
At what they hoped was a very far distance, the team stopped. Maya immediately launched a swarm of micro-drones, their optical sensors hyper-calibrated, relaying a live feed.
The image filled Maya's retinal display: two figures, Dr. Orion in his towering, luminous perfection, and Jex, the gentle boy with the terrifying power, stood face to face. And hanging fifty feet above them, screaming, was a terrified soldier in a bubble.
Orion smiled, his eyes burning with competitive fire. "You look well, you miserable little brat. Still as irritatingly calm as ever."
Jex returned the smile. "And you, old friend, still projecting more ego than a dying star."
There was no verbal count. No declaration of war. Just a sudden, shattering silence, followed by the sound of two fists meeting.
BOOM!!!!
The first contact was not a sound; it was a rupture. The air between them vaporized. The force of the fist clash hit the escaping team almost instantly, a shockwave of wind so powerful it nearly tore them from the ground, despite their immense distance.
On the drone feed, all optical sensors failed immediately. The picture died, replaced by static. The fight was too fast, too devastating for human technology to capture.
The team could only rely on their super perception—a combination of Black's amplified telepathy, Maya's hyper-senses, and the heightened instincts of the rest. What they perceived was an ethereal, impossible horror.
The two friends were now blurs of light and paradox, moving at speeds that defied even Black's understanding of velocity.
It was a fist fight only. No energy blasts, no psychic manipulation—just the raw, pure, physical expression of two ultimate beings testing their limits.
Jex landed a blow that vaporized Orion's entire chest cavity. Orion's body was torn apart, a screaming void where his heart should be. But before the fragments could fall, cellular regeneration kicked in, a blinding flash of light, and Orion was whole again, his eyes blazing with renewed power.
Orion countered with a precise, kinetic uppercut that sheared off both of Jex's arms at the shoulder. The limbs spun away, but before they traveled a foot, Jex's impossible power willed them back, reforming the connection, perfectly healed, in less than a nanosecond.
CRACK! Orion's head was split in two, the perfect symmetry of his skull broken down the middle. Jex landed the blow, but before Orion could fall, his luminous mind stitched the damage, returning to normal in seconds.
THWACK! Jex took a blow to the gut that left a gaping, smoking hole in his chest, a void that swallowed the light. He didn't even flinch. His internal paradox simply knitted the wound shut, the skin reforming instantly, smoother than before.
The combatants moved faster than thought, striking with the weight of planets, their bodies constantly being annihilated and reforming. It was a cycle of destruction and instantaneous regeneration, a cosmic dance of masochistic delight. They weren't fighting to win; they were fighting to the absolute edge of their immortality.
Amidst the swirling vortex of destruction, Markas was a tiny, bobbing speck of terror. He screamed, his voice muffled by the energy bubble, his mind breaking down under the impossible spectacle. He was losing his sanity, watching the friendly misfits commit mutual, repeated, instant suicide.
The team, watching through their enhanced perception, could only stand with mouths ajar, their brains incapable of understanding the physics of what they were witnessing.
"They're not even trying to hurt each other," Lena whispered, her voice hoarse. "They're trying to destroy each other to see how fast they can fix it!"
"It's... it's beautiful," Maya murmured, her analysis circuits overwhelmed, finding a terrifying awe in the impossible chaos.
After what felt like an entire war had been condensed into thirty seconds, the legends abruptly stopped. Both regenerated their lost body parts one final time. They stood panting, not from exhaustion, but from sheer, exhilarating effort, steam rising from their glowing forms.
Orion smiled, a look of immense satisfaction on his face. "I guess you got a little bit better, Jex. Those last five seconds were almost challenging."
Jex laughed, the sound carrying a strange, primal power. "And I guess you're still senile, old fart. And slow. Took you three attempts to break my neck. Terrible form."
"How about we go all out, then?" Orion challenged, his hands sparking with cosmic energy.
"All in it is," Jex agreed, his gentle smile returning, now tinged with a dangerous finality.
Before Orion could unleash his power, Jex did. The same golden energy that kept Markas safe suddenly wrapped the entire team—Black, Kai, Lena, Maya, Jog-Jog, and Arike—in individual protective bubbles. They gasped, instantly immobilized. The power was subtle, perfect, and terrifyingly vast.
And then, with another flick of his wrist, Jex sent Markas—screaming, terrified, and now completely insane—flying through the air and deposited him next to the rest of the immobilized team.
Black's golden eyes widened in genuine fear, the first true terror he'd felt since his awakening. The realization was stark, cold, and final. Jex had tracked their exact location and manifested this perfect, localized force from an impossible distance, all while sparring at light speed.
"They are the real threat," Black declared, his voice cutting through the energy bubble, raw with fear and respect. "Not Dante or the Syndicate. These two are the threat."
The two titans, now unrestrained by the need to hold back, looked at each other, their bodies vibrating with power. The air of the Dead Land screamed in anticipation. The real spar, the 'all-in' moment, was about to begin.