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Chapter Text

"Good game," Masaru clapped Namkiat on the back.

"If you play games like you fight," replied Namkiat, rising from the bench in front of the arcade cabinet with their usual supernal grace, stretching their arms and legs further than Masaru thought human joints were supposed to bend, "Then I'm waiting for you to have memorised all my moves and surpassed me in every way by tomorrow."

"I don't think its possible to get higher than that score unless you're some kinda world record holder. And I thought I was good at this game," he whistled, then gave the smaller fighter a suspicious look, "You're not secretly the world Pacman champion as well as a Muay Thai master, are you? Did someone set me up to get totally humiliated in public?"

Namkiat's painted eyebrows wrinkled in a gentle, enigmatic laugh, "My motives are rather less grand. I do remember someone saying something about the loser buying the winner a drink, though."

Masaru facepalmed, "Yeah, I did say that, didn't I? Please don't order the most expensive cocktail on the menu."

"I'll settle for a glass of the house red. Actually, make that the bottle between us. You say you're worried about being shown up in public," Namkiat added, "But I've found this quite a nice place for a low-key date in private, myself."

"I'm surprised you'd agree to it, to be honest," Masaru scratched behind the back of his head and laughed nervously, "I thought the Arcade Bar might not be classy enough for your tastes. And I had no idea if you even played games - never mind that you'd completely kick my ass at Pacman!"

"If it makes you feel better, I've barely played the other games in this place. It's only Pak Manh I happen to be highly practiced at," the way Namkiat spoke the game's name with a strong Thai accent that made it sound almost like a different word did not go unnoticed by Masaru, who frowned, momentarily puzzled, "But my reflexes might be enough to tide me over. So if you wish to try a different game..."

"Like I'd trust you after seeing a performance like that! Next I'll be gambling away all my clothes."

"I didn't realise it was that kind of date!" Namkiat winked almost coquettishly.

"Yeah, we'd probably get kicked out of here for doing something like that. There are some standards!"

"I'll settle for you showing me a game you've played a lot of, then, in exchange for tutelage in the ways of Pak Manh."

"I... thought I'd played a lot of Pacman," Masaru replied, looking crestfallen into his glass of wine.

"You mention this place a lot in conversation, I'd gathered you came here often to play," said Namkiat.

It was true - these days Masaru spent almost every waking moment, when he wasn't training at the gym or answering someone's challenge in the ring, in the Arcade, honing a new set of skills. He felt he owed it to Akira, to Cube and Captain Square, to the future in general. If there was a threat to something his friends loved, if he could help preserve it by keeping its memories alive, he had a responsibility to do so. Besides, he'd been there that primeval night, when Captain Square's eponymous game came alive in the heavens, filling the galaxy with light, information and movement. He'd seen the healing effect of that game on two very lost souls. Maybe, just maybe, he could even prevent the most terrifying wider consequences of the technology involved being used wrongly: the AI Wars.

"What the hey, bet I could kick your ass at Captain Square, no matter how bendy your fingers are and how drunk you get me," he grinned devilishly.

"And what exactly would we be betting?" Namkiat's smile was equally wicked, illuminating their youthful, androgynous good looks. They wore a fetching, if understated by their standards, red silk blouse over a long dark blue skirt, their lush black hair slicked and tied up above their head. Masaru wore his usual purple gilet over brown cargo pants. He'd at least bothered to have the trousers pressed today. Trying to look as impressive as Namkiat on a date was as futile as, apparently, trying to beat them at Pacman.

"If I win," said Masaru, "You have to tell me the true story of how you got that good at Pacman. I can tell you're avoiding the subject, so its gotta be an interesting story."

"I didn't know you were one for juicy scandals," Namkiat teased him, "It's a deal. But I'll talk later, in private. It's not a story for an audience. Besides, if I do happen to win, you said for yourself you can't take your clothes off in this place, didn't you?"

Chapter Text

Unfortunately for Masaru, he won, by quite a large margin. Later that night, at Namkiat's place, fully clothed and only moderately inebriated, they sat cross-legged on the floor around a silk tapestry woven in the traditional Thai style. The beautiful patterns on the cloth unnervingly matched a level of Pacman, complete with the four ghosts, most of the pills, and a bunch of cherries in the middle of the maze.

"So, its a cultural thing? Like that time Tula Han absolutely thrashed me at Tetris while off his face on vodka?" Masaru winced at the memory, mostly of the vodka itself.

"The legend of the Pak Manh is much older and of even greater significance than the political history of Tetris," said Namkiat, "Although it is confined mostly to the Namko spiritual tradition, and there are very few of us left. I am surprised anybody would know enough of it to make a video game out of it, never mind the inclination to do such a thing. Especially that they did so in such a strange way, making the player control the Soul Devourer."

Oh great, Masaru thought, inwardly facepalming, Pacman's gonna turn out to be real, just like Captain Square. He hadn't explained that little adventure across space and time to Namkiat, although the other fighter had guessed that Masaru had gotten involved with the evil spiritual force that they knew had nearly killed them. They remembered Odie o'Bright and they had a good understanding of Odio's nature, even if they didn't know the demon's actual name. The very fact that they'd survived their battle with Odie, slowing their breathing and heart rate enough to pretend to be dead after using their sheer flexibility and speed to partially deflect the blow that was supposed to have killed them, spoke volumes about their skill with the more spiritual side of their chosen martial art.

Apart from Masaru himself, no other contestant from the Strongest Fighter competition had escaped their fate at the hands of the Incarnation of Odio. Defeating Odio hadn't changed that fact, even though the demon was gone from all of space and time. Masaru had seen enough time travel movies to know that the knock-on consequences could be tricky to predict, especially when you wanted to keep space and time from unravelling due to paradox. The pain, shock and outrage at all of those sparring partners being suddenly, brutally murdered had not gone away, either. Not for Masaru or Namkiat. He wondered if he'd at least done something to help Namkiat survive. He hoped that was the case.

"Are you okay?" Namkiat frowned, "The legend is rather terrifying, although I'm surprised you've heard of it."

"I've never heard of it in my life," he shook his head, "I was just remembering... you know..."

"Whatever happened back there, I have often wondered if the two are not related in some way," Namkiat mused, "And I confess I have been dreaming of both."

"The bastard's in my nightmares, too," admitted Masaru, "Even though I don't wanna give him that satisfaction. Go on, tell me this Pacman... legend... thing. I can handle one more ghost story."

"You have to understand that it is almost impossible to damage a soul to the point that it could be eaten. The only magic capable of doing so, belongs to the highest-ranking officials of Hell, who use the punishment only on the worst offenders. This also involves eating..."

"Isn't it kinda self-defence, though? In the game, the ghosts are always chasing Pacman around, trying to eat him first," Masaru folded his arms, "Or is that some sort of bullshit cover-up story?"

"Let's say, it isn't the whole story," said Namkiat, "There are four teams of Guardians with enough spiritual power to defend themselves against and exorcise a fully formed Pak Manh. The colours in the game even match the elemental masteries of the real Guardians. They usually patrol a fixed route within the Realms of the Dead, but if they saw a major threat such as a Pak Manh, they would hunt it down to the ends of the Universe."

"And they're protecting... what? The little dots?"

"Lesser souls that can't protect themselves," explained Namkiat, "They're quarantined as fast as possible but there's always a few stragglers that get caught in the corridors."

"Wow, I can see why you think it's a little messed up that the game has him as the hero," said Masaru, "So, what are the power pills, really? And the fruit? And the score?"

"The score is the nutrition that the Pak Manh gets, I suppose? Or maybe its growing spiritual power," Namkiat mused, examining their reflection in their wine glass. They were starting to fidget with their hair obsessively, noted Masaru, a sure sign that the conversation was really starting to stress them out.

Namkiat's taking this really seriously, thought Masaru, maybe I should change the subject... or would that come across as rude? The whole 'social situations more complex than just picking a fight with someone or bragging about how awesome you were' thing was still new to Masaru.

"The fruit are sacred fruit from the Celestial Gardens, probably. And the 'Power Pills'... there are certain spells that, when consumed, would give the Pak Manh enough energy, or even change its nature, so that it could devour a Guardian. Something that powerful and dangerous would be even more closely guarded."

"So you're saying that the Ghosts aren't the same Ghost coming back, but there's replacement Ghosts in their base thingy?" Masaru scratched his head. Namkiat nodded.

"It is a very dangerous job given to only the most highly trained," they explained, "I only know this because the most famous ancestors of the Namko clan have performed the duties of a Soul Guardian in the past. In fact, its our speciality. Normally, even the most successful enlightened mortal wouldn't be capable of the job, only a native Celestial being."

"Wow," said Masaru, unsure how else to respond to a story that, even to someone who'd already found out that one video game was real and that Demon Lords, aliens and time travel also existed, was rather a shock to the system, what with a seemingly benign little old game turning out to be a nightmare horror story that was true. Well, according to Namkiat, anyway, but he'd never seen Namkiat lie about anything, except when they were pretending to be dead, "So, is this supposed to be a secret?"

"Please don't repeat this story to outsiders."

"But aren't the game devs, like, offending you? Or infringing on your copyright? We need to have a harsh word with them!"

Namkiat gave him an odd look, "Why would we need copyright? Only the most corrupt treat something that important as only for their profit. On the contrary, if everyone believes these people invented it for their game, my task of keeping its secrets will be safer."

"I guess so. Captain Square pretty much said the same thing," Masaru said, then remembered when Namkiat gave him an odd look that he hadn't explained about Captain Square yet, "So... um... are you a... Spirit Guard... thingy?"

Namkiat laughed, "No, I am afraid it would take me at least two hundred years to attain that level of mastery, as well as actually no longer being alive. Besides, there have been no sightings of a Pak Manh for centuries, or if there are, nobody has bothered to tell such a fresh young disciple!"

"Well, that's reassuring," said Masaru, "Probably. So... um... maybe we need another drink?"

Namkiat smiled, "I've got some Thai liquour in the cabinet, just for the occasion! I've been meaning to test it out on you!"

"Sounds ominous."

"Oh, this stuff can knock you out, even if I can’t yet!”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Masaru grinned, “On both accounts.”

Chapter Text

He hadn't dreamt about the other fighters in a while.

Namkiat featured in his dreams more often these days but it was less to do with a faintly haunting sense of guilt, of carrying the burdens of all their memories and legacies as well as their fighting styles, and more something else that was confusing and left him hot and flustered when he awoke.

While Namkiat was there beside him in this dream, it wasn't that sort of dream either. It felt different to anything he normally experienced in a dream, more vivid, his senses more lucid. He was somewhere dark, with a thick, weirdly luminescent silvery mist, like the reflection of a bright full moon. He could feel the damp chill in the air, hear the wind howling far above him in a sky he couldn't see through the fog. It wasn't that far from the atmosphere up on that lonely cliffside, looking out towards the pounding waves and jagged rocks, where he'd been summoned one night by an anonymous challenger. He couldn't even see that much, though, just the suggestion of long grass rippling in the wind, the roar of a river nearby.

While he could tell it was a dream, he didn't really remember falling asleep, or even where he was before waking up in this void, until he saw Namkiat and remembered being plied with really strong alcohol of some kind. He hadn't thought Namkiat the sort of person who could hold their drink. Mostly they just wanted fancy cocktails whenever he took them out somewhere. Besides, they were so skinny. Maybe Namkiat hadn't really been drinking it... but then why were they here as well?

It didn't occur to Masaru until later that people didn't usually enter each other's dreams. At the time, it was as normal as any other quirk of dream logic. Namkiat hadn't seen Masaru yet and was looking the opposite way. They seemed very intent on what they were doing - trying to find their way through the fog, maybe? Masaru could barely see them, even though they couldn't have been far away. He tried calling out but his voice didn't work, the shout dissipating into a quickly evaporating whisper, as though the fog was stealing his breath.

Then he heard a familiar voice behind him call his name, an elderly male voice with a thick Japanese accent.

"Seishi Moribe?" Masaru cried out to him, "You're not dead either?"

"That is where you are mistaken," the old man calmly corrected him, his eyes as alert and piercing as ever. He still had a full head of long white hair, with matching bushy eyebrows and moustache, and he wore the same black gi with a red sash as he had in the match with Masaru.

"Oh... so, am I dead, then?" Masaru scratched his head. He vaguely remembered an important conversation about death not so long ago, although he'd been drunk at the time.

"You look as good as ever to me. Congratulations in winning that fight with Mr. O'Bright, by the way, I saw the whole thing," he smiled and folded his arms, "I don't think you're ready to become a Soul Guardian quite yet but you're on the right path. After all, you're already in the Land of the Dead, and it doesn't seem to be bothering you too much."

"I am?" Masaru frowned, "What the hell did Namkiat put in that stuff?"

"Ah, I thought the Namko heir might have been something to do with this," said Moribe, "They're here again too, aren't they? Did they at least explain what was going on before they dragged you here?"

"They didn't say it was happening RIGHT NOW," said Masaru, "Or that they were going to take me there!"

"Its possible that Namkiat isn't quite in control of what they're doing either. They're only a trainee themselves. They still can't come here without me accepting the connection at the other end, and I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving them to fend for themselves against some of the things lurking here. They certainly weren't supposed to pull in visitors!"

"And you?" Masaru asked, "I take it you've been here for a while?"

"I haven't had much practice at actually being dead yet, to be honest. I'd have liked to stay in the mortal realm for longer. In fact, I fully expected to be the one to handle Mr O'Bright. It was a very close match, you know. If only I'd known how powerful the demon was inside him, and been slightly more prepared..."

"Sorry it didn't work out," Masaru looked at his feet, which were mostly obscured by mist, "He's gone, now. I think. Heck, why am I telling you this? You're the one wandering around the land of the dead, you probably know more about it than I do!""

"Funny you should say that," Moribe stroked his moustache, "Because I think something went a little wrong. In fact, that might be why we're having so many problems right now. Its why I was recruited - because I was involved - and why I've been trying to contact any of the others who hadn't gone over to the other side yet."

"Problems? What problems?"

"I'm not really the one best qualified to tell you all this," admitted Moribe, "I'm just a regular guard, on patrol. Our leader knows more and can explain it all better. Besides, we need to rescue Namkiat before they fall into the river or something."

Masaru couldn't imagine the graceful, swift Namkiat comedically falling into anything. For them to seem like the bumbling idiot - and Masaru a clueless bystander - this all had to be an order of magnitude above what he already knew. From his very rudimentary training in chi manipulation, the air was saturated with power, especially the aura around Moribe where the current twisted.

"You're sure I'm not just gonna be a liability?" he asked, reluctantly. It was new to him, not being the Strongest, and it stung. He'd had some practice, though, in that dark realm, where he'd fought real demons, far beyond the ability of a human to deal with. He'd survived only because he hadn't been alone. Teamwork was something he was still working on but he at least wasn't a total newcomer to the idea.

"You underestimate yourself," Moribe laughed, "You defeated Odie where we couldn't, yes? And you've picked something up on a much longer journey. You've battled things much more dangerous than Odie, wherever you went - I can just tell. Anyway, you always did have an unusual ability. I've been monitoring it for a while. The way you pick up the abilities of your opponents... it isn't just a simple matter of learning by example."

"You can tell, huh? Yeah, I don't know how it works, its just like I borrow their strength, then I just know how their moves work. And I can at least see that it's a type of chi I absorb now."

"I think you'd make a good soul guard, if you applied yourself. Its just the theory you're lacking."

"But I hate learning theory," Masaru groaned, rubbing his head. He wondered how the hell Moribe knew they were going. All the foggy banks looked the same to him and he'd be hopelessly lost on his own. They must have been wandering for an hour by now. He looked down at his wrist once but his watch was gone - he hadn't taken any of his belongings into the dream-vision-thing except his clothes.

Conversationally, he remarked, "You said that the others had gone on to... wherever it is people go? Is this where people cross over, then?"

"That's correct. The souls get ferried along the river. This place is mostly just a wilderness between places, where we store a few things that you don't have security clearance to know about, and where some wild creatures live that you don't want to meet, ever. And, yes, our friends have all passed on, except you and I, and Namkiat, and Odie. You don't need to worry about them any more. If it makes you feel better, I think you're the reason that their souls are at peace, and that they have nothing to do with this any more."

"That's good, I guess," Masaru smiled, "But we don't quite get to rest yet, huh?"

"No, we do not have that luxury," Moribe sighed, "And I think I just heard something roar, and Namkiat yell at it, so let's hurry, shall we?"

Chapter Text

When they next caught up, Namkiat had just aimed a leaping kick at a floating luminescent jellyfish-like creature the size of a large dog. Its tentacles, which it waved towards Namkiat threateningly, ended in barbs large enough to see that dripped venom strong enough to dissolve the swamp-rushes beneath it, leaving scorched patches that hissed with a foul pale smoke. As with most attacks aimed at Namkiat, the tentacles missed entirely. The small, lithe fighter's sandalled foot impacted with the creature's head and it screeched, rocking backwards in mid-air like a malevolent balloon. There was a flash of blue-white light as the kick landed.

"Only chi attacks work on those things!" Moribe advised as they both ran to Namkiat's aid. Moribe got there first, throwing a combo of punches and ending with a roundhouse kick, all wreathed in the blue-white flames. The creature was knocked off balance altogether and fell straight into a spike of rock that was ripped out of the ground with a rumbling crack when Masaru stamped his foot. The impact impaled the squealing creature and the two younger fighters only just jumped back in time to avoid being sprayed by equally corrosive ichor.

"Stop antagonising the local wildlife!" snapped Moribe, "Those don't attack unless you disturb their lair!"

"Sorry, I didn't even sense it," admitted Namkiat, "I still can't get over how much all your senses are muted here."

"Then you need to work on the other senses we don't usually use," advised the older fighter, "Come on, why am I teaching you when we're going to see the Shifu soon?"

Both the younger fighters looked chastised as they followed Moribe's footsteps, trying their best to be quiet and not trip over any more monster's lairs. After an uncountable length of time getting even more lost and listening to weird chirping noises in the background - it sounded more like Cube's bleeps than it did anything in nature - they reached a wooden boathouse next to a small dock on the river. Sat on a bench outside it, smiling, was an old man, even older than Moribe. He was also much smaller with a slight frame, only wisps of his white hair still left, but Masaru could tell a martial arts master when he saw one. The old man's aura wasn't very impressive but Masaru knew that an expert could control their background output, using as little energy as possible. His eyes regarded Masaru with a gaze that felt as though it was analysing his every move.

"Why, Masaru, wasn't it? I've heard a lot about about you," the old man said in a soft, pleasant voice, "You're Moribe's contemporary, and you fought beside my most successful disciple in that rather interesting event, didn't you?"

"Um..." Masaru scratched his head, regarding the man in the old-fashioned black Chinese tunic and trousers. Then he snapped his fingers, "Oh! You're Yun Jou's teacher! He told me all about you! But weren't you...?" he stopped when he remembered where he was, "Oh, yeah..."

The Shifu burst into laughter, "I've been gone in your lifetime for thousands of years! Why, I passed my Celestial Civil Service exams before you were born, and you know how long those take!"

"Um, no, I don't, sorry," admitted Masaru, "But Yun Jou made you sound like a really awesome teacher!"

"I'm glad to hear it. I did spend a lot of time worrying that I'd let those children down," he admitted, "I mean, Lei Kugo's already made the team as a junior, and Hong Hakka changed his mind and opened a restaurant for us instead, and its been centuries since we had a decent restaurant, so..."

"Those were Yun Jou's classmates, right?"

"That's right, kid. Did he tell you the whole story?"

Masaru related what he knew about his one-time friends from Imperial China, about their troubled pasts before being adopted as disciples by the Shifu, about their training, the cowardly ambush by Ou Di Wan Lee, their own incarnation of Odio, and the death of everyone in the dojo except Yun Jou, who had avenged them all and saved the Earthen Heart tradition from annihilation.

"Ou Di Wan Lee doesn't sound so different from Odie, to be honest," said Masaru, "Odie was just one guy, that was all, so he didn't cause as much trouble. He still killed a bunch of my honoured rivals. If he'd had friends of his own instead of being such a psycho jerk..."

"Funny you should say that," said the Shifu.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you should tell him," Moribe said, when the Shifu raised a questioning eyebrow, "On account of me still not really understanding the situation myself. Remember, I have no experience of... that aspect of things, except getting killed by it, which is just an embarrassment, frankly!"

"Everyone makes mistakes," said the Shifu, "The trick is to have a strong enough soul to endure the ones that inevitably kill you. Don't worry, by the way, Masaru, you're not dead, you're just..."

"In a weird drug-induced trance, yeah, I had that explained to me already too," he said, adding all the background information that Namkiat had told him about the spirit realm and the threat of the Pak Manh.

"So you know about our little problem," said the Shifu, "And I'm sure you've suspected long before this, that things haven't quite gotten back to normal since you returned to your own time? You... did return to your own time, yes?"

Masaru nodded, "But I know what you mean. Akira came with me for a while. And then Cube AND FREAKING CAPTAIN SQUARE showed up, which was a bit of a surprise, I admit..."

"Did you see anyone from my time?"

He shook his head, "I don't think so. There was a dinosaur, later, and a spaceship, and a robot, and an alien monster thingy, and this jerk with a Gatling gun..."

"It sounds like you've encountered everything BUT things from my time," the Shifu scratched his head, "But I think I've seen this Odie O'Bright fellow. In my time."

"My sincere condolences," said Masaru, "What the hell is he doing there?"

"He... forged an alliance with Ou Di Wan Lee. The first recorded instance of two Odios working together."

"The space computer and the bastard with the Gatling gun seemed pretty chummy too," argued Masaru.

"That is... concerning. But they were possibly not quite as close to each other as these two," the Shifu shook his head, "The thing with fighting an incarnation of Odio, you see, is that the radiance of hope and love tends to overcome the hollowness of hate. Except I don't think those two hated each other. They no longer had the free time to ambush and assassinate us all, whatever they were doing, but by the time we realised they were a threat and went to fight them, their bond was so powerful, they wiped the floor with us even though we were all still at full capacity. Only Yun Jou survived, and only barely. History had repeated itself, just slightly changed things around."

"Yeah, the victory we were supposed to have against Odio didn't really change nothing here either," Masaru admitted glumly, "Unless Namkiat was dead before...?"

"I was not," confirmed Namkiat, who had been listening, quietly, avidly absorbing all this new information.

"If you're looking for weird things happening, I've seen WAY weirder than two martial artists getting on well together, though," said Masaru, "Even if they are both complete psychos."

"I would like to know about these incidents, yes, but more than that, I want your help investigating this," said the Shifu, "Because I am now very sure that a fully formed Pak Manh has been unleashed upon the Spirit Realm. And the only power that could have summoned such a thing into existence... is the exact magnitude of dark ritual that Odie and Lee were conducting between them, locked away in the Indomitable Fist fortress."

"Wouldn't put it past Odie."

"You don't understand. Odie isn't just a killer. The principles of his martial art, which he has nearly mastered, hinge upon... an escalation of ruin. A swift spiral down the rungs of negative karma. He takes a dangerous but non-lethal contest and deliberately kills everyone involved. The next logical step... and one I believe he could take, with the amount of death-magic the two have been studying... is to take a realm where everyone is already dead, and find a way to permanently destroy souls. Now, actually deleting souls, that takes a bureaucratic authority that even deities only wish they had, but if you could devour the soul of another, it would be so badly damaged and mixed in with your own, it would essentially be gone forever."

"That... is very scary," admitted Masaru, "And definitely a thing that an incarnation of Odio would do."

"We found out later that this 'Odio' did have a way to destroy the fabric of time and space, if they'd had chance to use it," the Shifu told him, "You've dealt with Odio before. With friends, of course. But you've got us. I think you'd be a good addition to our team, Masaru."

"And I get to maybe have another match with Odie?"

"If it comes down to it, yes."

"Then I'm in. What exactly do you want me to do?"

Chapter Text

Between them, the four of them dragged a rowboat out onto the river. Moribe manned the oars. The Shifu sat cross-legged in the middle of the boat with his eyes closed. That contented, slightly enigmatic smile of his never left his face. Every now and then, he would pipe up with something like 'the trail's getting much stronger here' or 'turn left at the next fork, if you would, Moribe!'. The two younger martial artists stared out at the thick mist over the still deep water, at the shapes flitting around on the river banks, or the occasional ripple in the water ahead. Every movement made them both flinch, eyes darting around.

"I can't sense a thing," admitted Masaru, "But that last ripple was big, and I swear I saw a shadow in the water right in front of us."

"I'm sensing several large things, and a lot of smaller things - enough of them that its making me just as nervous," admitted Namkiat, "But I don't think any of them are anywhere near large enough to be a Pak Manh. Besides, they feel... weird."

"Have you ever seen one for real?"

"Only from a distance. They really are that round shape. With a giant mouth full of teeth," he added, "I think they're like giant leeches? I couldn't make out any details."

"You're lucky you've never had to see one up close," commented Moribe. For all his complaining about his age and his aching joints, he didn't seem to tire from rowing, "But I'm afraid that our luck might be running out. We're close enough that I can make it out now, and my senses aren't nearly as sharp as the Shifu's."

"I'm communicating my position with the other squads as well," explained the Shifu, "We're going to try and box the thing in between us. Something's making it follow the rivers. They join up in a couple of miles to flow into a larger river. There's an island in the middle of the confluence - something's sealed up there, something that's also emitting a large power signal."

"Its not one of those things they eat to get stronger, is it?" asked Masaru.

"It could well be. Whoever stored it in there tried to shield it, so I can't quite tell. The shield won't stop a Pak Manh - it'll just eat straight through the walls to try and find out what it is, then eat it anyway just in case."

"If it does manage to consume one," said Moribe, while the Shifu fell silent, his attention suddenly diverted by a message or another important signal, "Be prepared to run for your lives. Evacuate the realm if necessary. And – this is vitally important – evacuate in different directions. Don’t all follow each other. It has to count as four separate retreats. Otherwise it’ll just catch all of you at once. We'll be okay - we've got to have practiced this routine around a hundred times in a row by now!"

"You'll thank me for it in the end!" snapped the Shifu. Masaru chuckled quietly, amused at the idea of someone existing who could browbeat Moribe like an unruly pupil.

"Quiet, all of you!" hissed the ancient martial arts master, "We're almost close enough to see it."

They all went silent. Everything in the area had gone quiet now. Even the incessant beep-chatter of the wildlife had paused. Then, outlined as a dark shape in the mist, they saw it. Large enough to span the width of the river, it drifted above the water like a grotesque balloon, at a speed greater than Masaru would expect from something of that vast a bulk. Its mouth flapped lazily up and down like that of a great fish, displaying jagged fangs. Occasionally something in its path would light up blue, then disappear into that dread maw. The aura emanating from it reminded Masaru of the red and purple miasma that surrounded Odie o'Bright when he fought, the crackling storm cloud that had seemed to consume him like a dark flame when Masaru finally brought him down.

The Pak Manh didn’t appear to have noticed them yet, or wasn’t stupid enough to turn around when it knew that it was still vulnerable. Masaru assumed someone would say something if it actually swallowed a power pill. He’d jokingly asked if they turned blue and Moribe answered that, yes, the psychic technique used to elevate the body’s speed in an emergency did, in fact, create a visible bright blue aura. Stealth didn’t matter anyway – the Pak Manh hunted solely by spiritual scent. The masking technique that the Shifu had mastered wasn’t enough to fool it. As portrayed in the game, only running away until the thing’s power grew low again would save them.

Within a silence that was deafening, they tracked the creature that floated monomaniacally down the river, devouring anything in its path. Soon they reached the mouth of the confluence, where the larger river was joined by several tributaries. Erosion had formed several long, thin deltas, most of them choked with reeds. Most of the wildlife had fled long ago from the enormous predator but some kind of huge snake tried to hide in the reeds, only to find itself devoured whole by the orb-like thing. Then it turned towards the largest of the deltas. This island had been cleared away by someone who had also left a large warning sign next to a metal trapdoor in the ground, big enough for the boat to have easily moored inside. The Shifu hissed at Moribe to pick up speed. He began paddling furiously.

The Pak Manh stopped before the trapdoor, then rotated so that its mouth – Masaru could make out two dark, beady frog-like eyes and maybe a couple of slits for nostrils in its otherwise featureless face – faced the ground. Then it began to shudder ominously, its strange bulbous form vibrating with an ever increasing intensity. The motion reminded Masaru weirdly of a cat wiggling its butt before it pounced. Seconds later, it rocketed down and slammed its entire bulk with a force great enough to smash straight through the door. The scream of twisting and snapping steel broke the silence.

They jumped off the boat, Namkiat and the Shifu springing onto the shore in one great bound. Masaru and Moribe swam furiously until they could walk to shore, kicking and punching away the occasional sharp-toothed fish that hadn’t been eaten by the Pak Manh yet and fancied a snack of their own.

The beast disappeared inside the pitch black tunnel, its body only just fitting. Cursing in their respective languages, the four of them sprinted after it.

Chapter Text

Fear, claustrophobic and lonely and primal, gripped Masaru's heart as he was plunged into the subterranean darkness. Something deep inside him was yelling at him, reminding him how bad an idea it was to deliberately chase a large, hungry predator into a dark, narrow tunnel when you had no idea where it led to. The sky outside had been fairly dark but even the strands of moonlight dissipated, as did the last few wisps of fog. At least it was warmer here. Masaru looked down at his wrist again, about to switch on the back light of his watch, then cursed again as he remembered that he didn't have any of his possessions.

Moribe had warned him of the need to develop his other senses, along with the ones that humans didn't usually use at all. He could hear the scrabbling footsteps of the others, occasionally kicking at loose pebbles on the floor even though they were trying to be fairly quiet. Closing his eyes and focusing his breathing, Masaru managed to sense their chi aura, pooling around them in a vaguely humanoid shape, like light reflecting off water. The Shifu's was bright as ever, concentrated and focused. He realised that the old man was deliberately pulsing it as a beacon so that the others could find him. He followed that light as he ran, trying to feel the stones under his feet so he wouldn't trip. There were other small, bright signatures around here, lost souls drifting. Then there was the huge, insatiable black hole progressing inexorably before them, its mouth opening and closing almost mechanically. It had a weird life force of its own, a thin line like a corona around the eclipse that was inside it. Every time it touched one of the smaller lights, the soul winked out of existence, appearing inside that darkness briefly before evaporating into smaller motes and disappearing altogether.

Masaru wondered again why they were mad enough to chase that thing. We're the ghosts, he reminded himself, we can harm it. It's probably running away from us right now, not just towards something more edible and therefore interesting.

Between them, they were gradually gaining on the creature. Namkiat was already one of the faster martial artists in the Strongest Warrior community. They launched themselves off the ground into one of their trademark spinning kicks from above. The Shifu was apparently even faster, springing from wall to wall, more like a flying squirrel than a human. Launching himself off the far wall from Namkiat in a pincer movement, he launched into a flurry of flying kicks and punches, his aura now blazing a pure white. Moribe sprinted forwards, bringing his arm back for a palm strike. The energy pouring into that open palm would have punched straight through Masaru's chest if it had been aimed at him. He'd nearly been hit by a Celestial Palm before and only survived because he'd already memorised how Namkiat evaded blows ridiculously quickly.

Masaru himself wasn't that fast. However, he didn't intend to catch up. The secret technique he'd learned from Jackie Iaukea, the feared 'Worldbreaker's Wrath', had already proven useful once in this realm. The ex-sumo wrestler himself unleashed it in a full-body dive, but Masaru was not built anywhere near as heavy as that man had been. Focusing all his energy into his fists, he let out a battle roar and slammed down into the rock beneath him, aiming at one of the small cracks where the earth's spiritual energy was already leaking into the world. The pressure redirected that flow into a geyser that burst out the other end of the seam, sending a spray of jagged rock as well as a pillar of chi that shot upwards into the gigantic beast's body.

All four attacks connected at once. The monstrous orb bellowed, stretching its maw so wide that Masaru thought it was going to pull itself backwards and tear itself apart in a gruesome mirror of its death animation in the video game. Blue light and smoke leaked from several points in its now sagging skin, like a thick-skinned balloon rapidly deflating.

"Press the attack! Real ones don't die instantly!" roared Moribe, pummeling it with more of his lethal palm strikes. Namkiat and the Shifu jumped and whirled above them, raining down kicks like a storm of destruction. The thing turned around and snapped its huge spiky jaws at them ineffectually. It seemed to shrink in on itself as its vital force leaked out. Masaru charged up and let off another Worldbreaker, peppering it with spears of rock. He trained with that one a lot so that he could pull it off without hitting the audience or any tag team partners. The beast let out another dying roar of agony, then Masaru put his hands together in a quick prayer to Jackie Iaukea's soul, wherever it was now, thanking him for sharing such a devastating move.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a blinding flash of azure blue light, bringing with it a tremor that shook the whole tunnel, shaking loose even more rock until Masaru wondered if a cave-in was going to crush them all where a giant soul-devouring monster had failed. Masaru leapt backwards, grabbing at the first solid surface he could find for support.

After that, several things happened at once. The creature started glowing the same bright blue, its shape rapidly reforming, now blazing with ten times the energy, a star going supernova. The floor had collapsed in underneath it, and now Masaru could see the floor below, where the tunnel was supposed to have ended. It looked like a storeroom. Masaru immediately recognised that a makeshift arena had been constructed there, probably for an illegal pit fight. In the middle of the ring, glowering up at them manically, was a figure that sent a chill down Masaru's spine.

Odie o'Bright was there. If not alive - Masaru wasn't sure how you told the difference in this place - then very definitely still intact, the same as he always was, moving with a swagger that invited any opponent to try their luck. He looked up at Masaru, his mad eyes lighting up with awareness, and his leering grin deepened.

"Catch, boy!" he yelled, laughing at his own joke, as he threw a spherical, intensely glowing blue object at the Pak Manh. The monster caught it in its mouth, swallowing it whole, then started glowing even more brightly.

It turned, regarding its hated attackers with unblinking black beady eyes, then charged at them.

Masaru ran.

Chapter Text

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the other three had split off in completely different directions, as rehearsed. After that, he couldn’t really tell where he was going in the even deeper darkness, as if the Pak Manh had eaten all the light. It advanced faster now, bellowing non-stop as it gnashed its teeth up and down in a frenzy. The new energy source radiating from it was chill to the touch, beaming down on him, a constant reminder that the thing was nearly upon him. If he took a wrong turn, if he accidentally back himself into a dead end or just slowed down by having to turn a corner…

However, he never even clipped a wall, despite how narrow the tunnel had been and how randomly he was deciding what direction to run in. Something deep inside him was telling him that he was somewhere else, now, somewhere even weirder, a featureless void where people weren’t supposed to go. Despite the immediate and very large problem of a ravenous beast chasing him, this idea somehow still made him uneasy.

And why could he hear, like, counting?

A voice was whispering in his head, counting down in a menacing voice, like a gang of evil small children playing a game of tag where you were hunted down and stabbed with carving knives if you were ‘it’.

Four… three… two…

One...

Around the instant when a snarling, growling, hissing bundle of giant curved fangs, wickedly sharp claws and sleek black fur collided with the Pak Manh, was when Masaru remembered where he'd heard that counting before.

He hadn't repeatedly retreated out of fear, he recalled as the enormous primal cat knocked the glowing orb off balance like a puppy overenthusiastically tackling a football the same size as it. The aura around the Pak Manh briefly stuttered, then the light formed a contrail as the sphere skittered along the ground, hunting cat firmly adhered to its side. He'd happily fight the monsters of the Domain of Hate all day, except that it distracted him when he was trying to negotiate the trickier mazes in the Archon's lair. His sense of direction was fairly lousy as it was, without endless distractions. He wasn't used to surviving in the wilderness like Sundown or Pogo. He didn't have artificial tracking systems like Cube or psychic extra senses like Akira. Usually the bus just took him where he needed to go. He hadn't actually realised how many battles he'd been avoiding until the counter began, the weird voice whispering in the darkness, warning him that it was watching him, following him, about to punish him for the sin of cowardice...

With the legendary weapons and armour he'd already collected and all the powers he'd mastered, he'd driven it off, proven that he was no coward, just very directionally challenged. He had a feeling it wasn't fighting at its full strength, that this really was just a game, or a lesson that it was teaching. Now he seeing the cat's true savagery. Deep lacerations covered the Pak Manh, leaking a glowing blue fluid. It roared and snapped back at its attacked, who sprang deftly out of the way. With a deep, guttural answering roar, it jumped back onto the sphere and sank in its fangs for purchase.

It had never occurred to him what happened to the thing he was supposed to have been running from, the first time he'd been intercepted by the Death Prophet. Now he was thinking about it - and about the unlikely coincidence of this being the party's hundredth retreat.

"Don’t all follow each other," the Shifu had very specifically told him, "It has to count as four separate retreats."

He'd planned this whole thing. He must have timed this exactly, somehow knowing when the Pak Manh was likely to obtain a power pill. The Shifu had timed exactly a hundred retreats with the emergence of the powered-up Pak Manh, so that the two predators would run into each other and fight to the death. How many times must this have happened? Was this the first success? Had Masaru been necessary somehow?

As he mused over his situation, the Death Prophet tore off a chunk of the Pak Manh's rubbery hide, spilling its glowing blue blood everywhere, before sinking its fangs into something deep inside the beast and wrenching it out. There was another explosion of blue light, one that blinded Masaru. All he could see, seared into his retinas, was a small, solid circle of that same light, vanishing by degrees until it blinked out of existence, just the same as it did in the game.

Then everything went dark again.

Chapter Text

Masaru still hadn't regained his sight by the time he realised something else was trying to kill him. Fortunately for him, his assailant was bellowing almost as loudly as the giant monster he'd just witnessed being torn apart by a saber-tooth cat. Masaru recognised that battle-cry. Odie's signature malevolent yell wasn't just to psych him up, it really did trigger some kind of berserk state in him, a dark prayer to Odio for some malign reserves of strength that he'd taken from enemies past when he'd destroyed them utterly. Through the after-images of the blue shockwaves released when the Pak Manh died, Masaru could see the dark purple bruise-coloured aura around the huge, muscular man, although the red crackles of lightning were missing - maybe that was something to do with his no longer being directly linked to Odio?

Wracking his brains to remember Odie's repertoire of moves, he calculated which one he'd start off with. If he guessed incorrectly, he knew, he'd probably be dead before he knew what hit him, what with his weary state from the last battle. Judging from the volume of Odie's voice, the man wasn't right up close to him yet. He'd probably want to ambush Masaru and finish him off quickly - he'd remember having lost in a straight fight previously and wouldn't want to chance it again. That probably meant his signature move - the Diving DDO - was about to come out.

Odie was faster than he looked but still not as fast as Masaru. The smaller fighter rolled out of the way as soon as the sound of Odie's voice started growing louder. A resounding thud and a frustrated shout signalled that he'd tried to dive on top of Masaru and missed. Shaking his head and rubbing bleary eyes, Masaru managed to regain some sight. The first thing he saw was Odie's foot careening towards his head with the force of a jackhammer. Masaru jumped up to evade the kick, then assumed his own stance and looked Odie in the eye, finally ready to join the fight properly.

"You fucking sneaky little kill-stealing shit!" roared Odie o'Bright, snapping off another kick. Masaru blocked it with his wristband, then dove across the floor, trying to sweep Odie's other leg out from under him. Odie managed to right himself just in time but they'd closed in on each other now. Odie's longer limbs were no longer an advantage.

"Even by DYING I can't get you the hell out of my life and stop you ruining my plans!" Odie continued, trading a few punches with Masaru.

"Ah, so you ARE up to something!" the smaller fighter ducked and weaved around him, recognising the furious onslaught as an attempt to wear him down enough to grab him. He'd gotten the terrain worked out by now. They were back in the underground fighting pit, although the cage had been torn apart and there were piles of debris where the ceiling had caved in.

"It's nothing to do with you any more! I'm done with all that Odio shit. Or is this some kind of sick revenge? Wow, you're even more ruthless than I am! I was gonna kick you out for not really being dead, but I've changed my mind, you can join the Hell Tournament, it suits you perfectly!"

"I don't know what a Hell Tournament is," said Masaru, sidestepping another kick, "But I'm here to stop you letting loose any more Pak Manh's. Pak Men? NAMKIAT, WHAT'S THE PLURAL OF PAK MANH!"

Odie laughed, "You're interfering with something you don't know the first thing about, in other words, you dumb shit. A 'holy crap, run, there's more than one of them', is the plural of Pak Manh! And I'm not 'letting them loose', moron, I'm aggroing them!"

"You... you're WHAT?"

"I've been wanting to train against one of those for years, but I've only just managed to get it to chase me in the right direction without me having to put it down or the damn thing biting me," he said.

"You hunt those things as training?" Masaru yelled, surprised enough that he failed to dodge a swift kick to the ribs. He felt something crack as he was flung backwards by the force of the blow. Suddenly, Odie was on top of him, trying to force him into a headlock. He spat blood into the man's face and clawed at his eyes, focusing his chi into the attack. He mouthed a silent prayer to the Great Aja, from whom he'd learned the delicate art of dirty fighting.

"Well, okay, I've fought plenty of the regular ones, but this is the first powered-up one. Do you know how hoops you have to jump through to even get hold of Power Pellets in the first place? DO YOU?" he roared into Masaru's face.

"Odie," said another voice, coming from above them. Balancing on a steel girder where the roof had been, hands behind his back, was the Shifu, "You're very lucky that idea of yours didn't work - or rather, that my little plan worked first. And you call my assistant here a moron. Do you have any idea, yourself, how dangerous a fully powered up Pak Manh is?"

"You don't get to first place by going after the guy who's less than first place!" snapped Odie, "OW, MY NOSE, YOU BASTARD!"

Masaru immediately regretted doing something as disgusting as biting Odie's nose hard enough to draw blood, but at least it'd surprised him enough to let the smaller man wriggle out of his grip, giving him a parting kick to the same nose as a last gift. He heard a satisfying crunch. Then Moribe silently emerged from the shadows of the far side of the room.

"I found the rest of the Power Pellet stash," he said, holding out a black attache suitcase that glowed a faint blue.

"He hadn't escaped from Hell for that long. He wouldn't have had time to acquire more than one," explained the Shifu, "This is the twentieth time he's escaped, by the way."

"Were you tracking him?" asked Masaru, imagining some kind of futuristic bounty hunter from a sci-fi action flick. Moribe shook his head.

"We're genuinely on Pak Manh patrol, but we knew the two cases were linked - that a certain Hell escapee was organising illegal fighting rings in the wilderness and had acquired Power Pellets for some reason."

"To be honest, I've been actively recruiting people involved with O'Bright. I'd been hoping to reach the one who'd actually defeated him in battle," said the Shifu, "Not that Namkiat and yourself aren't just as competent, Moribe! The way your destinies were linked was crucial to increase the chance of summoning a Death Prophet. I found out about those from Yun Jou, by the way, Masaru, he told me the story of how you encountered one before."

"This is all such a touching reunion," Odie drawled, sneering. His ruined nose only made him look even more menacing, "But what the hell are you trying to achieve? You take me back to Hell, I'll just escape again. I get into fights with the demons guarding the place all the time, this is all just making me stronger!"

"I couldn't care less, Odie," the Shifu gave him an infuriatingly calm smile, "In truth, I'm interested in seeing your technique improve. Crude though it is, your method of attaining enlightenment through brute force is not without its own logic, and I genuinely believe you have a chance to succeed."

"You... do?" Odie's normally arrogant expression looked genuinely perplexed.

"Any wall can be broken with enough force of the right type. Even if you fall to the lowest depths of reincarnation, if you hit bedrock, and your soul survives the things waiting for you there, something's got to be enough to break through that layer, and there's got to be something on the other side. You never know, your hunch that it's some kind of enlightenment might be true," he said, "After all, you've been at it for long enough. You're the most focused individual I've ever met. You even shook off greater demonic possession."

"Can't really take credit for that one," admitted Odie, scratching the back of his head, "I, uh, kinda met a guy I liked. Can't hate properly if you're that madly in love."

"Ah, that does explain a lot. And where is Mr. Wan Lee now?"

"None of your business," he broke out into an even wider, more sadistic grin, "Didn't you just say you weren't here for me? Then butt out of my private life and do what you're here for."

"There isn't another Pak Manh in the area, and we secured the Power Pellets, so we're free to go," agreed Moribe.

"You ever opened one of those up?" asked Odie.

"No, they're far too high energy to be safe for contact with normal humans. That's another reason you're stupid for opening one."

"You ain't exactly normal humans any more, are you, though? I reckon the old man at least would be fine."

"What's it to you, anyway? Why do you so desperately want to see us open one?"

"Oh, I just don't like people blindly obeying authorities who are just using them. It reminds me of a bad experience I had with a guy named Odio," he grinned, "Seriously, it sounds like you're just going off what you've been told. That you've never tried. Just to see. Don't you want to know who makes those things? Who supplied them to me in the first place?"

"I've never heard such a ridiculous attempt to manipulate me in my entire..."

Moribe yelped. Out of nowhere, Namkiat jumped down from the top of the rubble behind the old man, kicked his hand with the full force of their famously divine legs, then snatched the suitcase off him.

"Sorry," Namkiat bowed, "But, to tell the truth, I've had certain suspicions for a long time now."

Moribe tried to cry out but Namkiat had already opened the case, never properly locked after Odie had first opened it. Blue power pills poured out with a tinkling sound, either smashing on the floor or being crushed under Namkiat's foot. Catching one of them in mid-air, Namkiat casually inspected it from several angles. Then they walked over to Masaru and showed off their prize.

Masaru recognised the symbol etched onto the vial. He'd seen it before on several of the old tapestries and other relics on display in Namkiat's apartment.

It was the Namko family crest.

Chapter Text

"So, how long have you known there was something fishy about your clan's business?" asked Masaru. He lay back on a pile of cushions in Namkiat's living room, arms folded. He was exhausted. Not only were the bruises and scrapes from his fight with Odie still there when he emerged from the realm of the dead, the hangover from whatever the hell Namkiat had gotten him drunk on was really starting to kick in. Fortunately, the martial artist also had a supply of equally strong Thai coffee. They had just reappeared from the kitchen with a tray containing a pot and two small cups. Sitting them down on the coffee table, they sat cross-legged next to Masaru and waited for the coffee to percolate.

Nothing had resisted them leaving after the discovery. The four of them had left Odie to his own devices, although Moribe confessed that he was planning to report the escapee to the authorities when he returned to headquarters. The Shifu seemed entirely unconcerned about the convict from hell on the loose. He'd assured Masaru that there was no way for him to return to the world of the living.

I'll be ready for him if he ever does return, thought Masaru. My training never stops and I'm only getting stronger.

"It was precisely the 'business' side that was starting to feel wrong," said Namkiat, stirring the coffee, "We'd always needed to support ourselves - some of our equipment is expensive - but we'd never been about making a huge profit. Even so, our business practices were growing more aggressive by the day. For instance, while we'd always guarded the real secrets of our mission in order to protect ourselves, the business side was starting to become jealous of what they saw as their intellectual property. I used to weave these tapestries, carve little Pak Manh charms, play our traditional music, all sorts of things, but the corporate division keeps taking them down."

"Sounds similar to the story Captain Square told me," said Masaru, "Except, by the sounds of it, that's not even the real reason they're keeping so many secrets."

"I didn't think they would go this far to try and make a profit," said Namkiat, "How long have they been endangering people, engineering situations like this so that they could be seen hunting the monsters down? How many missions have my family gone on that were complete fakes? Did someone else know - someone I trusted?"

"That doesn't sound like something anyone in your family would do. Unless they were being forced. You don't know what someone like that would threaten you with if they were pushed," Masaru frowned, "And it sounds like they're pulling all the strings with the Namko clan."

"You're right," they shook their head and began to carefully pour the coffee. One cup they passed to Masaru, who took in both hands and drained it with a great sigh of appreciation, not caring that it was still a little hot, "Thank you for being there for me, Masaru."

"I'm determined to see this all the way, now," Masaru told them, "You are gonna fight back, right?"

"Of course," Namkiat delicately sipped their own coffee.

"And its not just because I want to be there for you, or because I feel bad for ever letting Odie get near you in the first place," said Masaru, "It feels like something related to the trouble with Captain Square. Something I promised Akira I'd protect his world from. I'd feel awful if I ever let that cute little robot down either. And... we'll need to go abroad to deal with this. While we're globe-trotting, I want to visit everyone's graves. The other Strongest Warriors, I mean. I still haven't really paid my respects in person."

"That sounds like a good idea," agreed Namkiat, "Maybe they'll have some inspiration for us in our mission to come."

"By the way... what you said earlier... about me learning from you how to play Pacman..."

"Oh, you'd like a rematch, now you've seen the real thing?"

"Hell yeah!" Masaru grinned, "I'm feeling pumped."

"Want to make things more interesting with a bet?" asked Namkiat, "Loser takes another shot of spirits?"

"Not that, please, I've had enough of both kinds of spirits for a while."

"Loser takes their top off?"

"Namkiat, you're always strutting around half naked in the ring. And its not exactly a loss for me if you see me topless."

"I know! Loser gives the winner a relaxing sports massage."

"Now that sounds more fun!"

"We could both do with one, though."

"Then we'll have to both win at least one each."

"Best of three?"

"You're on."