The stadium buzzed with life, a carnival of colors and sounds as families, diehard fans, and children streamed into Taikiyan's famous Laser Stadium. Vendors shouted over the noise, peddling everything from glowing team hats to unreasonably priced "Victory Hotdogs."
Azriel, formerly Y, now freshly branded as a self-proclaimed free agent, stood on the outskirts of the bustling entrance to Taikiyan's famous Laser Stadium. His sharp eyes scanned the vibrant crowd, landing on a kid awkwardly dancing in his team's jersey.
"Who knew the IPC could actually host something remotely fun?" Azriel muttered to himself, his smirk growing.
Two years had passed since he became an Emanator. In that time, he had come into his own - though "own" was debatable, given that Aha's influence still lingered. Azriel had noticed the way his powers affected him: bold decisions, sharper instincts, a touch more flair.
Aha had once remarked that this was Azriel's "true self," unshackled by past burdens. And while Azriel could agree on some level, it didn't mean he forgave Aha for the chains that bound him. No, he'd find a way to break free eventually. But for now, he had other priorities - like joining the Astral Express.
Why? The answer lay in the events of a year ago.
-----
Flashback: One Year Ago
He had been at a grand party, the kind dripping with opulence and pointless rules - like the mandatory masks. It wasn't his kind of scene, but money was money, and he'd attended to sell some sensitive information to the host.
Azriel had been dancing with a purple-haired woman, their masks giving the interaction a playful anonymity. She had asked him to dance, and he obliged, their movements perfectly in sync.
His sharp eyes noticed a guard near the stairs, pressing a finger to his earpiece before hurrying out of the hall. Azriel smiled politely at his dance partner. "I'll grab us some drinks."
Instead of heading for refreshments, he slipped through the crowd and followed the guard's path upstairs. Reaching a locked door, he sent his strings underneath to unlatch it.
Inside? A crocodile.
Not just any crocodile - it was chained and unnervingly muscular, clearly part of some experiment. Azriel tilted his head.
'Who keeps a crocodile in their room?'
He shrugged and cut the leash, releasing the reptile.
He slipped out and exited through a window, leaving the party behind. As he walked down the street, he chuckled to himself, imagining the chaos that would unfold. Screaming nobles, spilt wine, shattered chandeliers - it was petty revenge, but satisfying nonetheless. The party organizer had refused to pay him for the (apparently false) information he'd sold them.
'Damn, I forgot to leave a calling card. How will they know it was me?' He shrugged again. 'Eh, they'll figure it out.'
His thoughts were interrupted by an amused giggle. Turning, he saw the purple-haired woman from the dance, now unmasked.
"You're quite amusing," she said, her tone playful.
"Without your mask, you look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" Azriel asked, tilting his head.
"Allow me to introduce myself," she said. "I'm Kafka, a Stellaron Hunter."
"Cool. So, what's up?" he replied nonchalantly.
"I'm here to invite you to join."
"Nope. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm my own man," Azriel said, waving her off as he walked past.
"Are you, though?" she called after him. He paused, turning back.
"Elio knows about your predicament," she continued. "You died hoping to escape life, but now you're forced to be an Emanator. If you join us, in return, he promises to free you."
-----
Flashback: One Week Ago
A week ago, Azriel had been sitting in a dimly lit hotel room with Kafka and another Stellaron Hunter. The memory was hazy - he couldn't even recall the other Hunter's face, as if it were fading from his mind.
"Wait, I thought the plan was only to erase her memory?" Azriel asked, frowning.
Kafka smiled, swirling a glass of wine. "The plan is for you to join the Astral Express and guide her on her journey. But to do that, you can't remember us - or her, for that matter. If she doesn't know you, and you know everything, it's hardly fair, is it?"
Azriel crossed his arms. "Then I'll just lie. Or not say anything."
"No offence, Azzy, but you're a terrible liar," Kafka teased.
"I am not," he shot back, offended. He glanced at the other Hunter, who was engrossed in a handheld gaming console.
Without looking up, the other Hunter muttered, "Yeah, you are."
Kafka chuckled. "You'll get your memories back eventually, through a wake-up code. But for now, the only things you'll remember are me, a little of Elio, and your goal to join the Astral Express."
Azriel pouted. "Not fair."
"And as for why you can't remember her…" Kafka trailed off, smirking. "Well, you dote on her too much. Like an overprotective brother."
"Do not!"
"Yes, you do," the other Hunter said flatly, still focused on their game.
Azriel grumbled, slumping in his chair. "Whatever."
-----
Present
Snapping out of his thoughts, Azriel joined the flow of fans into the stadium. He grinned as he caught bits of conversation.
"The Atakuch Anvil Team is going to destroy the Ekaker Shield Foundation Fleet this year!"
Azriel's grin widened. 'Oh, really?'
Spotting two fans passionately debating the teams, he grabbed a hat with the Ekaker logo from a distracted fan and approached them.
"Are you saying your team can beat our legendary squad?" Azriel declared loudly, drawing attention.
The two men blinked at him, startled. Azriel gestured dramatically to his Ekaker hat. "What are we, wimps? You think the Atakuch Anvil Team can hold a candle to us?"
The fans bristled, and one shot back, "You wish! With our star player, we'll crush you!"
Azriel cupped a hand to his ear. "Sorry, what was that? Couldn't hear you over your stinking breath."
Gasps rippled through the growing crowd, and someone shouted from the Ekaker side, "Your so-called star player got outsmarted last year by a rookie!"
The argument escalated into a full-blown shouting match, with fans shoving and yelling. Satisfied, Azriel slipped into the background, smirking as the security guards scrambled to contain the situation, abandoning their post near the hallway labelled "Restricted: Players and Staff Only."
Azriel took his chance, vaulting over a barrier meant to be scanned with an ID badge. He landed lightly and walked casually down the now-unmonitored hallway.
He felt it before he saw it - a sharp, assessing gaze on his back. Turning slightly, he caught the eyes of a man with brown hair and a cane next to three others. The others didn't seem to notice him and were staring at the commotion.
Azriel smirked, gave Welt a cheeky wave, and disappeared into the hallway before anyone could stop him.
"Is everything okay?" Himeko asked.
Back in the crowd, Himeko turned to Welt. "What's wrong?"
Welt's eyes narrowed slightly. "Something tells me we're about to have an… unexpected surprise on this planet."
He turned to the black-haired boy beside him. "Dan Heng, someone entered a restricted area without permission. See if you can catch him before he causes more trouble."
Dan Heng sighed, already bracing for the headache that was undoubtedly waiting for him."On it."
-----
Azriel leaned back against a wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixated on the now empty hallway as he pondered Welt Yang.
'I'm surprised he noticed me. I thought I was doing well hiding my presence. Welt Yang… as I thought, you're no ordinary man. And that cane of yours - was I hallucinating, or was Aha playing tricks on me?' His brow furrowed. 'Is he perhaps an Emanator? No, I didn't get that feeling from him… just what is he?'
He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice the subtle footsteps approaching from behind. His lips curled into a smirk.
'Someone's following me but doesn't have the nerve to act? How cute.'
He turned his attention to the locker room door, pausing briefly as an idea struck him. His grin widened.
'I guess I could have some fun.'
Stepping inside, Azriel quickly scanned the rows of lockers, locating one that had been conveniently left unlocked. He opened it, placed his jacket inside, along with his Beacon and a few stray credits, and spotted an exoskeleton suit hanging neatly inside.
These suits were no joke. Designed to protect players from the physical hazards of the game, they came equipped with reinforced shielding, boosters on the legs and soles for high-speed manoeuvres, and mental interface controls through specialized headgear. Of course, "protection" was relative. Broken limbs were still on the table if you were unlucky - or, in Azriel's case, intentionally reckless.
He slipped into the suit, the synthetic material fitting snugly around his frame. As he turned toward the exit, his path was blocked by none other than Dan Heng, who stood there like a sentry, arms crossed.
"Sorry, but I can't let you pass," Dan Heng said firmly.
Azriel gave an exaggerated nod, his expression dead serious. "Understandable. Have a nice day."
Before Dan Heng could respond, chains erupted from Azriel's hands in an instant, wrapping around him tightly.
"What?!" Dan Heng exclaimed, his body going rigid as a strange sensation of slowness overtook him, almost paralyzing his movements.
Azriel wasted no time. With a flash of his strings, he snagged a second suit from the locker room and forced it onto Dan Heng, the process so quick that Dan Heng was in full gear before he could even think to summon his spear.
"There we go! Looking sharp," Azriel said with a grin, grabbing Dan Heng by the wrist and dragging him out of the locker room at a breakneck pace.
"L-let go!" Dan Heng protested, his voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
"Relax," Azriel replied, his tone breezy. "This is gonna be fun."
The moment Dan Heng's slowness wore off, they arrived at the track. A referee immediately spotted them and barked at the two. "Hey, you're late! Get to the starting line!"
Before either of them could protest, they were shoved toward the line where the rest of the players were waiting.
In the stands, the Astral Express crew was growing restless.
"I wonder what's taking Dan Heng so long," March 7th mused, craning her neck to scan the crowd.
Himeko sighed, sipping her tea. "Do you think something happened?"
Welt adjusted his glasses. "He can take care of himself. But if he's not back in five minutes, we'll look for him."
Back at the starting line, Azriel surveyed the competition with interest. The players came in all shapes and sizes, some towering over him and others so small they could practically be mistaken for children.
The track itself was an obstacle course of chaos: gravity wells, laser barriers, shifting platforms, and holographic walls designed to throw players off balance. Floating orbs lined the course, each worth ten points - but more than half of them were booby-trapped, exploding if not discarded within 1.5 seconds of being touched.
The goal was simple: collect as many orbs as possible, stash them in a tube attached to your suit, and complete as many laps as you could. Points would be tallied at the end, with additional bonuses for taking down opponents or completing laps. But tubes could be stolen mid-race, and the fake orbs ensured that the game was as much about strategy as speed.
Azriel glanced down at his feet as the starting line launcher locked them in place. He smirked as Dan Heng stood beside him, clearly unhappy.
"This is all your fault," Dan Heng muttered, his voice low and venomous. "I hope you're ready to deal with the consequences of your actions after this."
Azriel leaned in with a cheeky grin. "You always complain like this? Lighten up, will ya? Go with the flow."
The commentator's voice boomed through the stadium. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special surprise today! Two players who were previously reported injured are back on the field! Give it up for… Kirow and Varis!"
Azriel raised an eyebrow. "Kirow and Varis, huh? Guess that's us."
Their team captain turned to them, his expression one of relief. "Glad you're both better. Don't push yourselves too hard out there."
Azriel gave him a thumbs-up. "Right, you got it, boss!"
The captain blinked in surprise at Azriel's casual tone, but before he could say anything, the rival team's captain chimed in. "Get ready to be dusted again like last year!"
Azriel's captain shot back, "Last year, I recall you winning by luck! My suit malfunctioned, but this time that won't save you."
"Ha! Luck's a skill in my book."
Their banter was cut short as the countdown began, echoing across the arena: "Three… two… one…" Every racer tensed, their breath held as the gunshot signalled the start.
Then - BOOM!
The propulsion systems roared to life, blasting every player forward at breakneck speed. Chaos immediately ensued as several racers failed to control their launches, spinning out of control and slamming into barriers or colliding with one another. The unlucky ones were disqualified before the race had even truly begun, leaving only the more skilled (or lucky) competitors still in the game.
Laser walls erupted across the track without warning, bright and merciless. The remaining racers scrambled to dodge them - some leapt over, others ducked, but a few mistimed their moves and were instantly knocked out. It was clear the track wasn't forgiving anyone today.
Orbs floated ominously along the first stretch of the course, glowing faintly as if daring the racers to grab them. Every player ignored them at first. Everyone knew better—these orbs were booby-trapped, rigged to explode if handled recklessly.
Instead, players unsheathed their arm-mounted blades and turned on each other. The sound of clashing steel filled the air as racers fought viciously, vying for position while carefully avoiding the orbs. Some tried to slip past the fights unnoticed, dodging blows and laser walls alike, inching ever closer to the first lap marker.
But all of this chaos ground to a halt when Azriel, seemingly unfazed by the pandemonium, casually grabbed three orbs in quick succession.
None of them exploded.
The racers around him froze in disbelief. Their hesitation cost them dearly; one racer finally reached out to grab an orb but wasn't fast enough to escape the ensuing explosion. The blast flung the unlucky player backwards, leaving the rest scrambling to regain their focus.
Azriel's captain smirked at his rival. "What was that about luck being a skill?"
The rival captain's face twisted in frustration as they tried to counter. "You mean—"
Azriel's captain cut them off with a grin. "What was that about being skilled at luck?"
'Oh, if only they knew.'
Azriel smirked beneath his helmet, his confidence unwavering. The truth was simple. These false orbs were designed to explode when touched by the gloves embedded in the players' suits. The gloves contained specific sensors that triggered the detonation. However, Azriel had a workaround: his strings.
By extending the thin, nearly invisible strings from his fingers and wrapping them around his palms, Azriel avoided triggering the sensors entirely. The orbs didn't recognize the touch of his strings as valid, allowing him to grab and store them in his tube effortlessly.
It was a trick that no one else in the game could pull off, and it gave him a massive advantage.
As Azriel continued to collect orbs, he remained sharp, dodging traps and weaving past his opponents with ease. His precision and efficiency were unmatched, though his sense of humour remained intact. At one point, a player from the rival team charged at him, blade drawn, yelling, "You're mine!"
Azriel sidestepped the attack effortlessly, grabbed the man's wrist mid-swing, and spun him around like a top. With a quick release, Azriel launched his opponent off the track entirely.
"And away you go!" Azriel quipped as the player disappeared from view, much to the crowd's amusement.
Approaching the first lap marker, Azriel saw the managers waiting at the sidelines. One manager held a fresh tube, ready to throw it to him, while another stood poised to catch the one he was supposed to toss back.
"Throw the tube!" one of the managers shouted, launching the replacement toward him.
Azriel caught it easily but ignored the part where he was supposed to toss his full tube back. Instead, he secured the full tube to his hip and ran past the marker without a backward glance.
From behind, the managers yelled, "Hey! You forgot to throw the tube!"
The commentator's voice boomed across the arena. "What's this? Kirow has ignored the rules and kept his tube! Was this a rookie mistake, or is he deliberately playing a dangerous game? Just what is he planning?"
Azriel smirked but didn't respond, the tube bouncing lightly against his hip as he continued forward. His confidence remained unshaken.
He wasn't first - this was his first time playing such a chaotic game, after all - but Azriel noticed something interesting ahead. Three captains from the rival teams were clustered near the front of the pack, along with a few other racers. None of the captains were fighting one another yet.
"Most likely saving it for the final lap," Azriel muttered to himself. He couldn't help but grin at the prospect.
Suddenly, the air grew heavier.
"Khh!"
Azriel staggered slightly as the track's gravity field intensified, forcing all the players to slow down. Around him, racers struggled to adjust to the sudden shift. Some stumbled, others fell entirely. But not Dan Heng.
Azriel looked back just in time to see Dan Heng weaving through the slowed racers like a ghost, his movements sharp and calculated. As he ran, Dan Heng grabbed orbs with practiced ease, tossing the fake ones at the feet of his opponents. Explosions rippled across the track, clearing a path for him.
Azriel raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. The guy's got moves, he thought, noticing the faintest hint of a smile on Dan Heng's face.
However, the ghost of a smile vanished the moment Dan Heng noticed Azriel watching him. The two locked eyes briefly before Azriel turned his attention back to the track, grinning.
Up ahead, he spotted a teammate struggling against an opponent.
"Help!" the teammate yelled, narrowly dodging a swing of the enemy's blade.
Azriel sighed theatrically. "Do I have to do everything around here?"
In a flash, Azriel dashed forward, kicking his own teammate out of the way before landing a swift kick to the opponent's stomach. The man doubled over with a gasp, and Azriel wasted no time snatching the opponent's tube - containing two orbs - and tossing it at the teammate he'd just kicked.
"You were taking too long," Azriel said with a grin, leaving his stunned teammate behind as he sprinted ahead.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" the teammate yelled, clutching the tube Azriel had thrown.
Farther back, Dan Heng sighed as he watched the interaction. 'I guess I'll have to win this.' he thought. Despite himself, he was determined to bring victory to the team - after all, he was impersonating one of their players. The least he could do was give them an edge.
Plus, he really didn't want to deal with March's inevitable teasing if he lost.
-----
Audience
The rest of the Astral Express crew sat among the audience, intently watching the chaotic spectacle unfold below. Explosions echoed across the stadium as racers collided, dodged traps, and struggled to stay in the game. The energy of the crowd was palpable, cheering louder with each dramatic clash on the track.
Himeko's sharp eyes followed Azriel's antics. "That player seems a little too… out of hand," she said, watching as Azriel swung yet another competitor off the track, then casually grabbed more orbs.
Welt nodded thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses. "He's certainly unpredictable. The question is whether it's calculated… or pure recklessness."
Dan Heng's absence didn't go unnoticed. March, in particular, seemed restless, her gaze darting between the track and the empty seat next to her. She finally groaned and stood up, clutching her camera.
"Mr. Yang, it's been ten minutes! I'm going to head back to the Express and check if Dan Heng is hiding out there. Maybe he got bored and snuck off."
Welt raised an eyebrow at her impatience but said nothing, while Himeko gave her a knowing smile. "You're going to miss out, March. You know the best part of these races always happens midway through the laps."
"It's fine! This is just the setup for the good stuff anyway." March handed her camera to Himeko, who took it with an amused expression. "Make sure to get some awesome photos while I'm gone!"
Himeko chuckled, giving her a teasing salute. "Consider it done."
With that, March skipped out of the stands, her energy far too bright for the otherwise somber streets outside the stadium.
Outside the stadium, March was met with an almost eerie stillness. The streets were unusually empty - most people were packed into the stands, leaving the walk to the Astral Express devoid of the usual buzz of activity.
As she skipped along, she gradually slowed down, the silence starting to gnaw at her. "I didn't think the walk back would feel this long," she muttered, crossing her arms as her steps came to a halt. She began tapping her fingers against her arm in frustration, her brows furrowed.
Finally, she let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh! This is so boring. Why did I even leave?!" She tilted her head toward the sky, groaning for extra emphasis.
But as her gaze wandered, inspiration struck like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes lit up, and a sly grin spread across her face. "Wait a second! I have the perfect idea. Everyone is gonna love me when I pull this off!"
Her giggles echoed through the empty streets as she resumed skipping, her earlier frustration forgotten. Whatever March had in mind, it was bound to be over-the-top.
Back in the Stadium
Himeko held the camera steady, snapping a shot, "March is going to regret missing this."
Welt leaned back in his seat, adjusting his glasses. "She'll be back soon enough - with some wild story, no doubt."
Himeko chuckled. "And about a hundred unnecessary photos to go with it."
Dan Heng, meanwhile, was still nowhere to be seen, though he was making significant moves on the track below. Welt glanced toward the action with a thoughtful expression. "Do you think March will even make it back to the Express without getting sidetracked?"
The both of them exchanged a knowing look, then returned their attention to the chaos unfolding on the track.
-----
As the game progressed, the field thinned out quickly. Many players were disqualified, either knocked out or exhausted from the relentless action. Some fell victim to the treacherous booby traps hidden along the track. Others simply couldn't keep up with the speed and intensity of the game. The remaining contestants had passed several laps already, but they were struggling more than ever.
But not Azriel, Dan Heng, and the captains - they were a lap ahead, effortlessly dodging the traps like pros. The shifting holographic walls had become their playground, an obstacle that had others stumbling.
The walls would change shape without warning, and no one was entirely sure which ones were solid. Jumping over them was no simple task either, considering their height and the unpredictability of the game.
By the third lap, something unexpected happened. Azriel's managers stopped throwing him empty tubes to exchange for the filled ones he'd been collecting. It seemed they'd given up on the traditional hand-off. Undeterred, Azriel adapted quickly, resorting to stealing tubes from his from his enemies. His strategy was simple: grab whatever he could, whenever he could.
Looking down at the growing collection of filled tubes strapped to his hips, Azriel counted nearly ten, with almost a hundred orbs accumulated so far.
'This is going to be good.'
His eyes flicked over to the launcher - a contraption that would shoot him high into the air. But there was a catch: it was all about the landing and trajectory. He didn't need to think twice.
Behind him, Dan Heng and the captain were close, but Azriel was already speeding ahead. As he approached the launcher, they both called out to him.
"Just what are you up to?" Dan Heng asked.
"Hey, why are you keeping all the tubes?" Their captain asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.
Azriel grinned, not bothering to answer. "Let me show you," he called back over his shoulder, already picking up speed toward the launcher.
With one swift movement, Azriel jumped onto the launcher and was propelled backwards at high speed. In midair, he began plucking tubes from his belt at lightning speed. One by one, he touched the tops of the orbs inside, triggering the explosions, sending them raining down on anyone and everyone below. The crowd gasped.
The players below?
They screamed.
A series of explosive booms echoed throughout the stadium, sending players scattering in every direction. Azriel landed gracefully, a picture of smug satisfaction. The fire didn't last long, though - it was designed not to. But the aftermath? That was something to behold.
The once crowded race track was now eerily empty. Almost every player had been knocked out, caught in the blast, or eliminated by some trap. The only ones still standing were Azriel's team - Azriel, Dan Heng, and the captain - and two other captains from the rival teams. That was it.
The commentator's voice rang out, filled with disbelief. "What's this?! Almost all players have been disqualified! This is unprecedented and unheard of! Just what happened?!"
The audience was abuzz, murmuring and speculating about what they had just witnessed.
"You bastard, what did you do?!" one of the rival captains shouted, his voice a mixture of anger and confusion.
"How did you-?" the other captain stammered, still processing the chaos unfolding before them.
Azriel's team captain turned to him, eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you? I know you're not Kirow."
Dan Heng, quiet as ever, studied Azriel with a calculating gaze. But Azriel merely ignored the scrutiny, looking instead at the audience with a faint smile. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his face, and casually surveyed the VIP box.
Before anyone could speak further, a shadow loomed over the stadium, catching the attention of everyone present. Everyone's heads snapped upwards in unison, their eyes widening in shock.
The sun seemed to disappear as something enormous blocked its rays.
And there it was.
A massive train, hurtling toward the stadium at an alarming speed, was now hovering above them, with no sign of slowing down.
A/N:
This is about the Roboball Game, mentioned many times in the game, but no one knows how it really goes, so I came up with my own idea.
Might not be the best, but I liked writing it as well as the idea.
It's on the Wiki that the Express damaged the stadium, so I made sure to include that.
Next chapter might take lonnger as electricity went out in my building and area, running on fumes right now. That's why I haven't double or triple-checked this chapter.