Being a Sync is something I would not wish on my worst enemy. It's way too crude and unrefined. First of all, Syncs aren't treated with respect. They are often ignored and disregarded. Second, they are only used to fight for the masses, never partaking in the fame, fortune, or glory. Used to prolong the duration of Coalition Carnage, which only comes once a decade, so the year long tournament doesn't end prematurely with the death of the heroic Superstar. Third, if the Superstar a Sync is based on were to die, the Sync dies as well. If the Superstar survives, the Sync is disposed of any way, like flotsam. Finally, even if the Sync avoids execution by the competition and those who run it, he would only live another two years before he returned to the sludge from wince he came. Yes, being born a Sync is cruel and inhumane. The only advantage to being a Sync, at least for me, is having a Base that I believe is the strongest Klugh in Aphlis history.
PAST
Morihilus was born on Conqueror's Day, which is seen as a sign of good fortune. It was on this date, over a thousand years ago, that Gammon the Conqueror subjugated every civilization within the seas of Aphlis. It was a feat never before attempted, so those born on that fateful day in the future were considered blessed by the very gods keeping the Great Conqueror alive to this day.
I took my first breath with this knowledge already in my head. I raised my hand, saw that it and my body were red and for a moment I thought it weird to have scally, red skin. I was in a tube attached to a wall that emitted a heartbeat rhythm. A few feet ahead was a pool of tan liquid that bubbled and steamed and looked very thick. Continued examination of the area revealed my twin emerging from his birthing tube just as I was. Our violet eyes make contact; no words were spoken for we both knew we got the flat side of the fish. We knew of Syncs because our Base knew of Syncs. He had them before when competing ten years prior.
We were met by some of the Kujin, whose pointy ears, silky skin and beauty even I could admire. They took care of us for half a year, teaching some of the important events in the year it took to incubate us and to ensure we possessed no defects. We had to understand that we were not the real Morihilus. We were Syncs with a purpose. Our constant need for water, per the Klugh being a water dependent race, was nurtured; we were given magical suits of water, something that made my skin crawl.
We got to pick our own names, mine being Uorimilus, my twin opting for the unimaginative Korihilus before being shipped off to Aphlis. Despite the memories I had of Conqueror's Crown, the sight still brought a salty tear to my eye. Various sea life filled the city, both sentient and non sentient. The leg less Merpeople, big mouthed Bossasi, fin headed Swaks, rainbow skinned Rou, and so on, all going about their lives, paying little attention to the new arrivals swimming into their master's city. Except the Conquerors' Fist, the judges, jury, and executioners of Gammon's many decrees. The trio of squid men eyed us with distaste as we swam toward a mansion built into the side of a coral reef.
Morihilus welcomed us with open arms, brothers he never had. He already had quarters prepared for our arrival and local food, the fruits and berries provided by the Kujin was not for my taste buds. His staff, in contrast, ignored us and was always able to tell us apart from the master of the manor, only speaking to us after accomplishing some task related to our stay. We spent most of our time in Morihilus's private wing where he conducted his experiments involving papuru magic. My knowledge of it was finite; Morihilus obtaining the soul coal for it a few years back. To my surprise, he spent a great deal of time teaching us the ins and outs of the volatile magic. I was even more surprised to learn I would be wielding this magic in my battles. Apparently, Morihilus had increased his study of it in the past year and felt knowledgeable enough for us to use effectively. Truth be told, I was not looking forward to it.
One of his experiments concerning papuru magic was if it could be used to increase one's lifespan. His theory was papuru magic was a bit like wish fulfillment, responding to the desires of the subconscious. To test this, we took a trip back to the place of my birth. We had around a hundred days before the competition so efficiency was key. We needed a particular person from a particular race.
Unity is an ironic name for the planet, since the three primary cultures here rarely, if ever, from my one hundred fifty day stay observation, unite for anything. My twin and I were allowed to venture past the forest the Kujin called home upon the backs of domesticated beasts. On one such outing, we witnessed a divers procession of beings traveling upon their own animals down a wide path that wounded through a valley ten clicks distance. I believed at first they were prisoners or slaves of the squat, oval character with orange skin and green hair that preceded the exodus. Upon striking up a conversation with him, I learned they were the Risen and were migrating across the valley for some convoluted reason involving their religion. It was one of these that we sought.
Unity is only sparsely populated for such a huge world; their population control was legendary even under the seas of Aphlis. With so much ground to cover, and very little time, plus the need for secrecy meant we had to split up along the coast where the Risen convoy had been headed. A promising village was found a few hours later.
The village was only partially constructed with a large portion comprising of hovel like shelters. Around eighty families of patchwork races worked to get farms up and running, water catchers erected, streets paved. The stench of animals and their dung mixed with the earth smell of trees, dirt and other foliage, with just a sprinkling of unwashed resurrected aliens. My brothers and I were completely unfamiliar with the variety of beings we had to choose from. Not nearly as numerous as Conqueror's Crown, the diversity of the Risen spoke of the Dagons thoroughness when it came to cleansing their planet of unwanted life.
It was papuru magic that helped us pick our subject, for the right age was paramount. His name was Ofenswen and in his previous life was known as a Myposian. He and his race were wiped out in a genocidal war with the Dagons thousands of years in the past. We whisked him off world, with little protest from him, and returned to Aphlis and the private wing of Morihilus's home. We were gracious kidnappers and he, a complacent captive; being millions of miles from home and thousands of leagues beneath an alien ocean didn't seem to perturb him. Getting to know Ofenswen was a joy. Only days from his life expectancy, the wide faced, wide eared man was cheerful, confident in the knowledge he would return. Whether a year or a thousand, Risen always rise again.
This phenomenon held only a slight curiosity in Morihilus. It was more the Risen's biological makeup that captured his brilliant mind. Feeding Ofenswen food cooked with Papuru energy and bathing him in its rays, Morihilus was hoping to prolong his life, if only by a few days. His expiration date came and went, with Ofenswen genuinely shocked to still be alive enough to swim around the mansion. This gave us hope. Syncs were composed of the same sludge, or synflesh, as the Risen reborn bodies, therefore, if Morihilus could cure death for the Risen, it stood to reason he could for Syncs. Smiles were on all our lips as we shared in Ofenswen's gratitude.
As the days passed, he grew to love life more on Aphlis, ravenously eating, gleefully swimming about breathing air provided by the sackfish in his throat. I even found a small bit of sadness when Morihilus stabbed him in the brain twenty-two days later. He didn't have to explain the need for secrecy, we were him, after all. We fed his corpse to Morihilus's pet whippersharkers.
PRESENT
Our chosen base of operations while on Dycord was the streamjet Morihilus dubbed Reign. The interior of the stingray shaped shuttle had mist that simulated Aphlis oceans filtered throughout, allowing us to forgo the water skin conjured through our use of Soul Style. We were going over the game plan of when we were victorious at competitions' end. Korihilus's defeat at the hands of the Braloorian witch was long forgotten. One of the great attributes of my Base was his ability to learn from the past, but not allowing it to have control over his present. Now that we could live beyond the norm, our Base had plans for his Syncs. Together, we would dispose of Gammon the Conqueror and take control of the Klugh, leading the race in finding its old roots of conquest.
We received the day's brackets an hour ago and the omniband indicated we were next. Morihilus only had rudimentary knowledge of our opposition, Prisma, hailing from the very planet my twin and I were born. The feeling of nostalgia upon learning a Dagon was next prompts me to go before my twin, who wanted to redeem his defeat. As I teleport away, I promise my Base victory for our future empire.
What a stroke of luck. The geodome chosen was the one I wanted. The promised Earth's. I stood upon the wind and rain scored rock of an island that only held small patches of ice and nothing else. Rain poured in sheets, unimpeded by the geodome. With a practiced motion, I use papuru magic to rearrange the molecular makeup of the water passing through into the aqua found on Aphlis. Earth water, though sweet and cool to the skin, left a slick, almost oily substance in its wake. I'm able to drop the water skin again and bask in the feeling. All the Klugh craved this small, near barren world. No undersea sentient life, cooler climate, and its crustaceans were beyond delicious. But the Humans still exist, clinging to life above the never ending rain. Hundreds of years of being docile had made Gammon too craven to take this world from them. Morihilus is not afraid to make this world a paradise for his people. And now, I truly feel they are my people as well.
My opponent stood on the beach opposite where I was, eyes full of contempt as he stared me down. His missing arm was a weakness he wore about like jewelry. Any number of replacements would have sufficed, some might have given the Dagon an edge in battle. His remaining arm looked as if it could go right through me in a second; if I were to let that happen. I ready my rapierfish and let out a few choice words to show my willingness to end his life. He spoke not a word before charging me head on.
He obviously plans on attacking with one of his remaining limbs, which I plan to skewer. At that instant, lightning flashed from above, its shockwave paralyzing me briefly with the boom of its close proximity. My body is suddenly overcome with pain as electricity course through the ground and into me; the fact I was wet making the experience worse. Not so bad that I didn't see his coming strike, tensing my abdominal muscles to absorb the kick. Thanks to Soul Style and Klugh physiology, I literally possess steel hard skin and organs. The Dagon's natural strength enhanced by Soul Style probably gave him enough strength to crush titanium, which is the most durable metal found on Aphlis, without any effort. Meaning, I felt my ribs break and stomach rupture as I went skidding across the isle.
Healing was the first technique Morihilus taught us and I was quick to utilize it. My injuries were practically healed when I registered the Dagon was standing next to me. I use my Aura Cloak this time saving me from a punch I'm sure would have took my head off. This one arm was strong and skilled but so is my Base, therefore, am I. With but a thought I turn the rain drops into sharp quills like those of the puff-pun fish. Every quill froze in place before they could strike home and were redirected my way.
I create many water clones, utilizing the more familiar Water Soul Style to buy more time. The island held nothing I could use for cover so my clones had to do. The clones pop as the quills pass through them like they did through the geodome under its previous form. I return them to their natural state before they do me harm. Prisma was close again, another punch telegraphed, nimbly avoided, but too close for a proper counter. I try for a quick elbow, but it was avoided and a blocked return kick still had my forearms numb, barely able to stay on my feet in the push back.
Papuru magic let me turn the island beneath us into gaping, rock toothed, maws chopping at Prisma's bare feet. He was gone from my vision so fast that my first thought went to teleportation. Though my eyes couldn't follow, my Awareness kept track of his movements even if my reaction time could not. He came in at my left before I could get my rapierfish point to him, so instead I use papuru magic to teleport to safety. Another, greater pain in my foot told me I teleported on top of my own trap of mouths; even though I tried for the space above him. My foot was gone, green blood leaking from the stump. Could papuru magic replace it? I had no time to find out as the hulking brute came in again.
I use the rain to form a watery grave around him. With Sustenance, there was no hope of drowning him, but I'm aiming for a ten count now. My Aura Cloak wouldn't return for almost thirty minutes and Prisma was too much a beast to play with. Papuru magic turns the bubble into stone with a Dagon at its center. I was wanting a much denser substance, something magical, or at least titanium. That's what I thought of and wished for. This magic is too unreliable, I thought as the beautiful Roxy got to five and Prisma burst from the rock sphere prison.
Avoiding a couple of chunks of stone, I close the distance this time, as fast as my Quickening could produce with one foot, point of my weapon aimed for his nose. His counter broke my arm in two places and had my rapierfish going up and coming down, which he kicks into me. The eyes of the fish look up at me incredulously, surprised to find its forty inch long nose sticking right through my chest. I fall to one knee, smiling at Prisma as he approached, blood dropping from my mouth to catch on the wind and rain. I prepare for the papuru magic technique that Morihilus was saving for his inevitable encounter with Kane Urasa; a technique unavoidable, indefensible, and unpredictable. The people of the galaxy would see Kane dead at my Base's feet, who would then declare war on the Earth and claim it as the Klugh's new reward. Skipping out on the remainder of the competition, we would take Gammon the Conqueror by surprise, kill him and led the Klugh armies to claim their prize.
I hesitate. If I use it now, then Morihilus will lose the element of surprise against the Human Superstar and the symbolism needed from Kane's public execution will be in jeopardy. This world that rained down increasingly oily water on my head was more important than my so-called life. The Humans may fear the world of their birth, but this place was the future of his species, a place of ideal perfection; once the filters scrubbed out the imperfections of its oceans. No, let the Human be the first to experience Twilight.
I stated earlier that Prisma's arm looked strong enough to go right through me and he proved this theory correct. He punched my rapierfish out my back, replacing it with his arm up to his sharp looking elbow. Was I mistaken by what I thought was a look of contempt earlier? Those eyes looked on me with no animosity at all, which I find a little disheartening. This whole time, I don't think he was above indifference in his opinion of me. Was this for my Base as well, or did he know I was a Sync. If he didn't before, he now understood as my body started to melt around his bicep. His face blurred and sagged as one of my eyes drip from a now gaping socket. My reddish skin returned to its original tan as it and my bones start to run like mud.
It was common knowledge that Syncs do everything a fraction of a second slower then the original. The real Morihilus would have emerged victorious. Both in this contest and the ones to come. But then, what do I know? I was only a Sync.
End chapter