16-Person Tournament: Round 1- Cly vs White Star

Seattle, Washington - Quest Field

A pair of Nike tennis shoes, a green cape, and a black cloak lay in a pile on the sidelines. Standing in the end zone, with bare feet, wearing black, hybrid chain metal, light armor. This special armor consisted of a mix of Kevlar on the outside, small, durable chain links embedded in between, and up against his skin, a thin layer of cotton, for comfort. His bushy, nearly shoulder long hair covered his head, clean, but still looking as though he just rolled out of bed. An intense look was in Cly's hazel eyes, as he reached down to grab the handle of his sword, Valor. Crafted from an unknown steel, a rust resistant, unbreakable, impossibly sharp sword that had seen much action in its lifetime, but had never once took the life of a person.

It had begun, and Cly stood there, at the 30 line mark, and watched as White Star, at the opposing 30 line mark, jumped over six feet into the air, and looked as though he was going to attack. He sure is eager to attack. Intense white light formed in White Star's hands. The crowd fell silent, as the light formed in White Star's hands. The bright light temporarily blinded Cly. Ahhhh! My eyes! This always seems to happen! I should really invest into a pair of sunglasses or something. Faster than a speeding bullet, the white light came towards Cly, who was in no condition to dodge the attack. Milliseconds before the light was about to hit him square in the chest, the rider regained some of his eyesight, in his right eye. No depth perception with one eye, this is going to be pure luck. With his high speed eyes, Cly calculated where the light would hit, but couldn't move his body fast enough to dodge the attack. Gripping Valor, the warrior unsheathed it, and uppercutted where he thought the light would be. Normally he would have depth perception so he wouldn't have to guess, but beind blinded, it was solely based on luck. A wicked fast uppercut with Valor, cut through the middle of the beam of light, splitting it in half. To cut light in half, it was unheard of, except for one factor, which was that Valor was the sharpest sword ever known. The now twin beams of light shot towards Cly at slight angles outwards, and cut a little over an inch into each side of his arms. The area between his bicep and tricep, away from his body, was bleeding, and the pain was intense. Nice shot, he got me. But at least I stopped his attack from hitting me in my chest. The crowd screamed from behind them, as they all bailed from their seats, as the two beams of lights cut holes in the chairs.

Cly watched White Star land on the ground, hoping that his attack had been a one hit knock out. Cly smiled, and said, "Nice, that light is really bright. I should have brought my sunglasses." He paused, then said, "Now, it's my turn." Cly had regained his eye sight back, and analyzed the distance between them. Hmmm...I had better move in on him quick, before he throws another attack at me. His bare feet dug into the turf, he lowered himself to the ground, and bolted forward. Sprinting at a little over 20 miles per hour, the distance was covered faster than any football runner. He didn't slow down, as he drew Valor in a millisecond, and performed a deadly quick, low slash, intended to go through both of White Star's knees. Cly passed White Star, turned his feet sideways, and skidded, then fell over to the ground, rolled twice, and was back on his feet again. Jumping into the air, Cly spun Valor left and right, a blow to White Star's upper left shoulder and then one to his upper right shoulder. If each hit connected, White Star's arms should be severed at the shoulder. Cly put his feet down, attempted to push off of White Star's head, like a stool, and if sucessful, would flip forward once more. Cly landed on the ground, feet in front of him, and made a thin line along the dirt, with the tip of his blade. "I woundn't pass this line if I were you." He sheathed Valor, and awaited then next attack, with blood running down his arms, from each wound.

The air carried the sickly-sweet stench of cotton candy as hawkers crawled through the stands.  A cool northwestern breeze tickled the back of his neck; and it carried upon its back a feeling of foreboding, a warning of dangerous times to come.  All around, the roar of the crowd-beast pressed in like a giant fist until it began to slow like a record player on 33 rpm, drawing out both their cheers and jeers.  Time was standing still, thick and weighty as that beam of light raced towards Cly, and then all at once snapped back to full speed with the gasp of their amazement upon watching him cut that beam in half.

[Subject appears blinded.]  ISIS commented as White Star acted.

“I can't believe he just sliced light,” Kavlin breathed heavily, trying to focus his concentration.  “What was the density of that beam?”

[33.6498%]

“What’s my threshold at?”

[49.427%]

“Is that going to be enough to stop that blade?”

[Unable to postulate.]

"Nice, that light is really bright. I should have brought my sunglasses." Cly called out.  White Star bit his lower lip, fear settling on him like a funeral shroud. "Now, it's my turn.”  Then his black clad opponent launched himself forward.  He was closing the distance at impossibly fast speeds, each footfall perfectly in sync with the rapid beat of Kavlin’s own heart.

[50 yards.] ISIS intoned.  [40 yards.]  [30 yards.]

“Enough with the countdown, are you going to be able to analyze him?”

[Affirmative.  20 yards.]  [10 yards.]  [Contact.]

Cly drew his sword in an eye blink’s worth of time and slashed, severing the legs just below the knees.  In a graceful exhibition of movement, like a dancer uninhibited by gravity, he turned and continued the assault.  Both arms fell off, thudding lifelessly to the ground.  Finally, Cly vaulted around and off of White Star’s head, landing only a few feet away and slashing a line in the dirt.  “I wouldn’t pass this line if I were you,” he said and then took notice of the floating torso he had left behind.  Strangely though, the limbs upon the ground and even the torso itself were not draining blood upon the field, only light.  Then the illusion faded, dissipating back into the ether.

The real White Star drifted down from above, having switched himself out with a solid light counterpart while Cly was blinded.  “What was the density of the dupe at?”

[43.212%.  Gemini gambit successful due to opponent’s ocular disability.]

“And if I can pull off 49%” he asked the symbiotic computer system.

[Suggest alternative strategy.  Separate opponent from weapon.]

“Yeah, I’ll do my best,” he muttered.  “Sorry about this,” White star called out towards Cly.  “I just can’t have you running me through the meat grinder.”  Floating a few feet above the ground, White Star focused his powers and dropped a circle of strobe lights around his opponent.  Then he formed two featureless figures, like porcelain statues come to life, and sent them racing headlong into the fray.  He needed to conserve his energy while maintaining this tenuous grip on his concentration.  He hadn’t been terribly successful to this point in maintaining light constructs for long.  Certainly he was getting better, but would he be good enough?  The faceless ones raced into the circle, diving at Cly, one high and the other low, while White Star hovered without; hoping beyond hope they could knock that damnable sword away from him.  And if they could, well what then?

His eyes widened, as the legs, from the knees down, and the arms, from the shoulders, fell to the ground. No blood, but instead light. What is this? Is that even the real...? He heard White Star's voice from above, and looked up. There, floating in the air, the real White Star was, with a duplicate severed at the knees and shoulders. Great, how did he do that? I didn't see him switch places...that's it! I didn't see him, because I was blinded, duh. White Star said, “I just can’t have you running me through the meat grinder.”  Cly cracked a smile, and said in a casual tone. "Valor doesn't grind, it cuts. There is a slight difference between the two, but not much." Thinking to get a laugh from his opponent, he got none, while strobe lights suddenly filled the air around him.

"Whoa!? Who turned on the lights?" Cly covered his eyes this time, because he knew what would happen if he left them open again. When he cracked them open, after a second or two, he saw two figures coming towards him. They had no distinguishing features about them, but looked they they meant business, even though they didn't have intense looking eyes, or drool flowing out of their mouths. Those two, they must be also constructions of light, at least that is what I think. Valor hasn't failed me yet. It's time to slice and dice these white guys! They crossed the line that Cly had etched into the ground. "Very well, you were warned..." They were faster than Cly had expected, because they were holding back at first, waiting to show their true potential as they got closer to him. His right had was struck hard, and Cly's grip on Valor became loose, and he watched as his sword came out of his hand, and flew wildly through the air, landing quite some distance away. What? No way!

Way. He felt a fist connect with his jaw, sending the knight into the air, then a kick to the chest. The punch had slammed his teeth together, chipping a few of them, and cutting up his gums in the process. The kick had knocked the wind out of him, but not much more. Cly tumbled backwards, rolled head over heals, and was back on his feet. Blood trickled out of the sides of his mouth, as the rider glanced toward the two new competitors. Those guys hit pretty hard. Valor rested on the ground, a little over one hundred feet away, and he needed to get it back. One of the figures that White Star had made ran for Cly's sword. "Oh no you don't." Cly tripped, as the second one tripped him. "Cheap move!" Losing time, Cly, grabbed the figure, and threw him from himself, and looked toward the audience. "A chair! Throw a chair!" A projectile took off from the stands, and came towards Cly, who jumped up, and grabbed it in mid-air. He said to the people in the stands, "Thanks dudes!" Coming down with the chair, Cly raised it over his head, and attempted to bash the featureless figure on the head, with a blow that would surely crush its head in. Cly landed to the ground, saw the first figure near Valor, stuck his tongue out, which is what the warrior did while he was going to concentrate, and hurled the chair as hard as he could. Closer and closer the spinning hunk of plastic and metal flew, and was about to hit the figure's mid-section, which at that speed, could have the potential to cut the featureless figure in half.

Cly turned his head, and saw White Star, just floating there, and said, "What do you call those two white guys? I really have a hard time fighting someone if I don't know their names." Either hearing a reply or not, Cly saw his chance to launch a surprise attack, and jumped into the air towards White Star. His left hand outstretched, it suddenly burst into flame, as Cly had used some of his magical abilities. With his flaming hand, he threw a powerful punch toward White Star's chest, hoping to connect this time, followed through, landed on the ground, rolled, and was back on his feet again. The fire was extinguished from his arm. Not waiting to see what kind of damage he had done, Cly ran over to were Valor lay, scooped it up, and was held it at a ready position. With his fingers outstretched, he said, "Bring it."

White Star’s body trembled with the effort of holding together so many separate constructs at one time.  Coercing light rays and bending them to one’s will was no easy feat.  It wasn’t as simple as think & do or point & shoot.  The singular focus required, the indomitable will against what amounted to a primal force of the universe itself felt more akin to asking a one-armed man to peel an apple.  Even under the best of circumstances, within the solitude of training it was difficult to control.  But here amidst the screaming crowds of the arena, against an opponent that moved like a wraith, White Star was unsure how far he could take this.

The constructs moved where he wished them to, struck how he wished he could.  They knocked the sword away and continued on with their work.  A punch here - a kick there - and he was connecting, but Cly’s will was equally as indomitable as White Star’s own as the knight refused to relent for even a moment.  He watched with wonder as Cly regained his footing and quickly spotted his sword, but all Hades be damned if he was going to let the two reunite so easily.  With a thought he sent a construct racing towards the sword.

[Subject query…] ISIS began, breaking White Star’s concentration and causing the constructs to slow and waver.

“Not now,” Kavlin hissed at it.  The hesitation cost dearly as Cly pounced forward towards the sword.  Only a desperate act in a desperate situation kept the two apart.  White Star willed the second construct to trip his opponent, a maneuver that garnered a shout of “Cheap move!”  But even in this unfortunate turn Cly found a way to turn the tables towards himself.  He pivoted and tossed the construct like a paper doll before calling to the audience to obtain a chair.

“A bloody chair,” White Star said with a strained voice.  Still, the construct was closer to the sword, so he allowed himself a childish moment of having it stick out its tongue.  A foolish, rookie mistake if there ever was one.  That simple, seemingly harmless act diverted enough of his attention that he didn’t see that Cly had flung the chair Frisbee style at his creation.  The metal folding chair lodged itself within the light’s midsection with a horrific metal crunch sounding something like a Mack truck barreling headlong into a grocery store.

"What do you call those two white guys? I really have a hard time fighting someone if I don't know their names." Cly called out.  White Star chuckled at the thought of naming a couple of lifeless automatons.  Still, just that one comment opened up a world of possibilities.  The things he could create with the light that he had never even thought of flooded in to his mind.  And so preoccupied with the idea was he that he never saw Cly leaping towards him, arm ignited with mystical fire until it was far too late.

[Contact] ISIS chirped.

“Wha…” White Star began, but failed to finish as Cly’s fist hit him dead center in the chest.  Whatever air his lungs had held was long gone as he convulsed with the shock of the strike.  He tumbled from the sky and hit the ground, and the impact jarred his right knee, but he didn’t scream, for he had no air to do so with.  He dug his hand into the sod beneath him, ripping it out at the roots, struggling to fill his lungs once more.  And finally that breath came, sweet and full of promise.  As he stood he felt the twinge in his knee and a searing pain on his chest.  Reaching a hand down he felt the tender flesh, blistering from the heat of the strike.  So he created bandages of light that wrapped about his chest and leg.

[Initiating cellular repair protocols…]

“No,” he whispered through gritted teeth.  “I’m going to need all the energy I can muster.”  Standing fully now, Kavlin found Cly awaiting him, not fifteen yards away.  The knight stood, holding Valor at the ready, issuing his challenge.  “Bring it.”  Two simple words.

[Scanning solution…found.]  came the cold drawl of the supercomputer.  An image flooded in to White Star’s mind of a four-armed assassin from a Japanese comic.  The boy grinned and willed two additional arms to form on his torso and in their hands they held daggers.  They weren’t perfect by any means and moved in stiff jerky motions, but they would do the job he needed them to.  Then in his left hand he formed a shield that rattled with movable planes meant to turn the edge of Cly’s sword away from a cutting stroke, and in his right he held a bo staff.

White Star raced at his opponent then, using a burst of light to propel him forward.  He brought the shield up against Valor while thrusting out with the staff in an effort to keep Cly grounded.  And if he got close enough, those two daggers would cut Cly along the oblique and serratus muscles, hampering further use of his weapon.

Four fingers curled back, motioning to White Star to bring it. Blood trickled down the rider's neck, from the sides of his mouth, and more blood come out from the sides of his arms, which had been cut through by the light. He thought about how much blood one can lose before they become dizzy and faint. I had better heal those two wounds. Cly lifted his hand up, it began to glow, and he touched one wound, on his left arm. The skin, muscle, and part of the bone that had been disintegrated began to reform, until it looked as good as new. Cly was about to do the same to his other arm when he saw White Star grow two more arms, each holding a dagger.

A shield appeared in White Star's left hand, while a wooden staff was formed in the other. This guy is full of surprises, ain't he? Makes it more interesting. Cly touched his other wound, on his right arm, and began to heal the wound, when White Star rushed towards him. This guy doesn't understand what a red light means, oh well. Cly released his arm, the wound only half healed, and drew Valor. White Star suddenly shot forward at a much higher speed, of light, that Cly did not expect and therefore could hardly react to, it being so incredibly fast. Not enough time to think about what he was doing, Cly swung Valor towards White Star. It collided with the boy's shield, but failed to penetrate, due to it being turned sideways. No way!

He felt the bo staff collide with his shoulder, delivering a large bruise, while preventing him from escaping. White Star pushed close to Cly, and cut into the rider's flesh with his two daggers. Each cut in medium shallow, and severed his oblique and serratus muscles, on his sides. As White Star shot past him, Cly fell to the ground, bleeding from the slashes on his sides, a foot or so under each armpit. He held Valor in his hand, and tried to lift it. It felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds. What did he do to me? Cly tried to swing Valor, put it was the same as lifting an anvil, and trying to swing it around. Shaking due to the effort, Cly sheathed his double edged sword, and fell down to the ground to his knees. To heal those severed muscles would take some time, which I do not have. If I attempted to try, I would be completely open, and lose. Cly put his crossed his arms, and slipped them into pockets on his hybrid kevlar shirt. He may have taken away my arms, but he'll never take away the burning fire inside me!

His bare feet gripped the turf, as the rider ran towards his rival. He has four usable arms, and I have zero. It's time to kick this into overdrive. Cly got up to speed, and slid with his back on the ground. He came right underneath White Star, and kicked up as hard as he could, towards the shield, hoping to seperate White Star from his defense. Sliding between White Star's legs after delivering the kick, Cly threw his momentum forward, and came to his feet. He pushed off of the ground, attempted to land with both feet square in the middle of White Star's chest, then run up his body, to his head, kick off, backflip, and land to his feet again.

Right after, Cly ducked his head, and ran towards White Star, a powerful headbutt aimed right for the ouch spot, between White Star's legs. The headbash a hit or miss, Cly regained his footing, came up to White Star, flipped half way, and landed on his head. "You may think I'm nearly beat, but it isn't over yet. Here I come!" He pushed off of the ground, and began to spin on his head. Reaching down with his flexible legs, his left foot's toes wrapped around the handle of Valor, and unsheathed it. Cly spun fast, with Valor outstretched, a dire cut to anything in the radius. The rider pushed off from the ground, with his strong neck muscles, the spinning blade wielded by his left foot hoping to slice and dice White Star. "I call this the Clyclone!"

White Star skidded to a halt on the grassy field, his attack had not only been successful in penetrating Cly’s defenses, but that crazy light-shield had managed to block Valor.  The crowd gasped, and then silence followed by a smattering of applause.  Kavlin allowed himself a smile, in some small way he had won a few of them over.  I’m not such a pushover, he thought to himself and felt for the first time that he might actually have a shot at winning this.  With redoubled confidence, White Star readied himself to turn and face Cly once more, hoping to find his opponent on the ground and ready to concede.

[Proximity warning]

And just like that, an injured Cly was sliding between White Star’s legs.  In the flash of an eye blink, Cly kicked upwards at the shield, catching the lower half and sending the solid light construct smashing into White Star’s own face.  A sickly snap of cartilage and a jolt of pain meant that his nose was shattered.  A fountain of blood followed the pain and poured out from his nostrils, running down his face and streaming onto his chest where it stung like nettles against the burn marks of Cly’s fiery strike.  The additional arms, the bo staff and even the shield winked out of existence as his concentration on them failed.  The blood gushing from his nose was his only concern now, and instinctively he brought both hands up to his face to stymie the flow.  The reaction was only just in time to save him from more pain, as Cly effortlessly ran up his chest and vaulted off of his head.  The move unbalanced White Star, who wobbled back and forth attempting to regain solid footing, but it was not to be as he was greeted by a head butt from Cly to his nether regions.  That pain was too much to bear and he folded like a cheap patio chair as waves of pain and nausea raced through him.  An ocean of blood was forming betwixt the blades of grass beneath his face, a microscopic world flooded by a strange sea of plasma.  And then the wind came.

Kavlin was only vaguely aware of Cly’s voice, seeming to come to him from the end of some long, dark tunnel.  ISIS was speaking too, issuing some warning or other, but none of it was audible.  It was all just noise atop of noise.  And that wind, what was that wind?  White Star managed to turn his head enough to see Cly balancing upon his head, Valor gripped tightly in his feet, spinning about like a mad, runaway top.  The tip of that fell blade cut through the air with the dread whistle of a banshee’s song, which then proceeded to open a gash horizontally along his left shoulder.  White Star screamed and then propelled himself away from that whirling dervish with a blast of light.  The move launched him only a few feet away, but it was far enough to escape another strike.

His body hurt all over and he was losing blood fast.  What wasn’t coming out of his nose was leaking down the back of his throat, causing him to gag.  Dizziness grasped at him, threatening to spirit him away from this world as he attempted to pick himself up.  It was a futile effort as he found he could get no higher than his hands and knees.  Glancing up, he caught a face in the crowd.  An unknown spectator sitting in the front row, she looked about his age, with red hair and green eyes.  They locked gazes for but a moment and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her, what her voice sounded like, what her hair smelled like.  Stupid things to occupy one’s mind within a situation like this, but then again, if this was going to be it…

[Preparing escape solution.  Awaiting clear window for Ionosphere jettison.]

“Negadive,” White Star croaked through his shattered nose.  “Cancll thad.  I’m gibing him edrythung.” 

With a final, bloody and toothy grin at the girl, White Star built up every last iota of energy he could in his right fist.  Chancing a glance back over at Cly, he found the knight was still on his head.  “All the chps thn,” he muttered as he drove that fist into the blood-soaked sod.  A blast of energy closely resembling a bomb was about to blow it’s way up and out of that field.  One could surmise that the Seahawks were going to need a new stadium.

Round and round he spun, causing damage to his rival, but also messing with his own equilibrium. Like all tops come to an end with their spinning, so did Cly, who began to wobble, and then collapsed to the ground, face first. As he fell, his only partially healed wound on his right arm re-opened, causing blood to stream out. With his other two wounds on the sides of his chest, hindering muscle movement, this was going to go nowhere fast. The rider tilted his chin as much as he could, and saw White Star, who looked dizzy himself, and wasn't so white around the mouth. Still he pushes on, when my strength reserves are nearly depleted. How much more am I going to be able to take? Should I yield? No, I will push myself to my limit, with everything I have in me, it is my time to... He stopped his thought, as he heard the broken words,  "I’m gibing him edrythung.” Cly could feel the sheer force of energy being built up by White Star, and watched as his right fist began to glow. This isn't going to be like one of those attacks like before, this is going to be the one that finishes it all. Cly pushed on the ground with his head, trying to lift his body a few inches off the ground, so he might put his arms beneath himself. Up into the air, Cly tried to help himself up, but couldn't find any strength in his useless arms, and fell back down to the ground. White Star said, “All the chps thn,” and thrust his fist into the ground.  The earth shook beneath their feet. This is the end.

A massive shockwave rolled through the ground, so powerful, that it lifted up the people that were in free standing chairs, and threw them as much as ten feet into the air. Screams filled the air as people stood up and trampled each other like college students hearing the class ending bell. Cracks shot out in all directions around the epicenter of the quake, and beams of light shone out of them. Cly knew it all at once, this whole Quest field was about to take a big hit, and with all of the people frantically trying to get out, no one was going anywhere, and in seconds, there would be many deaths caused by such a mighty display of power. Still on the moist turf, Cly sucked in a lung full of air, and yelled as loud as he could, "STOP!!! WHITE STAR!!! YOU ARE GOING TO KILL EVERYONE!!!" The ear piercing noise coming from the attack deafened Cly's vain attempt to stop this, and the knight knew that in seconds, the stadium, the people, himself, and even White Star may perish from this super powered final blow. One last chance to stop this, me. The beat of his heart pounded like a hammer to an anvil, as blood raced through the warrior's body. Cly pushed with all his might on the ground with his arms, lifting his body up, while tearing muscles in the process. He was so determined that he didn't feel any of the pain, and stood to his feet. Cly called out with his telepathy to Esmeralda, his dragon. If I don't survive this, I just wanted to say goodbye. CLY!!! NO!!! DON'T DO IT!!!I end this now!

Cly sprinted forward, dove, slid, and reached out with both of his arms. He grabbed White Star's hand from the ground, and yanked it up with his very last reserves of strength. Up it came, the deadly energy pulsing from it, as Cly struggled to hold it up. Tears flowing down his face, Cly yelled with his last breath, "This battle is between you and me, and it ends between you and me. A real hero knows when too much is too much. My name is Cly, it was nice knowing you." He let hold of his grip on White Star's hand, and moved his body under the supercharged hand. It came down, as the rider watched it move toward his chest. Time seemed to slow to a halt. So many memories flashed though his mind, so many good times, images of the past, and one battle that he could never forget, against Lady Nightmare. He could picture her grasping his heart with her telekinesis, and ringing the last drops of life out of him. No heart of grace to save me this time. White Star's fist made contact with Cly's chest, as the rider felt the truly intense energies that the boy was using. The light that poured from the cracks vanished, and the quakes in the ground stopped, as all the energy had been re-directed to the dragon rider.

Light. Skin ripped off his chest, exposing his muscles around his rib cage. Cly's entire muscle network lit up, bathed in the energy, glowing bright white. Muscle fibers shot exploded, sending fragments of fried muscle out onto the ground. His chest spurted them like a sprinkler gone crazy, while muscles all around his body shot through his skin, like needles, thousands of dots forming all over the rider's skin. Blood spurted out, with the super sped up beats of his heart. All the muscle on his chest removed, only his ribcage stood between the fist of death and his vitals. The intense bright white light lit up even brighter, and burned both of Cly's eyes out. Still hanging onto life, he felt the attack reach its peak, and explode. White light bathed his entire body, frying everything from head to toe. The ground around him was cut into, but the massive overkill of power never reached the crowds around, which had stopped, fell silent, and could only stare.

Giving everything he had was in hindsight a bad idea.  His hope had been that in using what little reserves remained he might break the field apart and send Cly flying through the air.  It was supposed to be a localized blast, but what it turned out to be was something larger, something primal and dangerous.  He had dipped into the well of power and discovered that he not only had more to give, but that it was an infinite reserve.  And now he was drowning in it.

The world had faded away into a storm of white energy.  Nothing existed here except for himself and the light.  ISIS wasn’t here.  She couldn’t save him, or give him some clever solution.  It was only him now, swimming against a riptide of galactic proportions.  The power yanked and pushed him to and fro, up and down.  He tried to swim against it, to find a way out, but he could not attain even a single foot of momentum.  But even if he had?  No direction was right.  He was lost, perhaps forever, within his own power.

Terrified thoughts ran through his mind.  If his power was this expansive, would the destruction he unleashed stop at the stadium?  Would it continue on through the city?   The state, the country, the continent, the hemisphere, the planet?  And from there, would the solar system spin out of control, the galaxy?  How long would the energy ripple before his body burned out?  And even if his body were ash, would the space he had once occupied only be an open conduit for the energy to pour out of?  Could he actually rip time/space open?  The thoughts of the drowning were often fell ones.

Then all at once, the world returned.  White Star took a shocked breath and choked a bit on the blood and bile coating his throat.  Blurry eyes focused on the person beneath him.  Cly.  The knight he had been fighting with had somehow saved him from the abyss, and his reward for this was death.  I’m killing him, White Star screamed in his mind.  Cly convulsed as the light poured through him and out of him.  White Star wanted to pull back his fist and the power coursing through it, but it was tantamount to an ant trying to control a fire hose.  It was too much for the boy to do.

“ISIS,” he croaked.  “Help me save him.”

[Full release of energy required for control re-establishment.]

“No,” Kavlin cried.  “Give me something!”

[Attempting feedback loop protocol.  Initiated.  Power control now at 12.347%]

The pain of the feedback loop was excruciating, but it was enough as White Star poured what will he had to give into sealing the knight in a solid light body cast.  Who could say if it would help, but it was all Kavlin could do for him now.  Let it be enough, he thought to himself.  Let it be enough.

[Feedback loop growing.  Warning.  Host subject in danger…]  A wicked white light exploded, sending White Star spinning through the air.  The centrifugal force of the spin threatened to black him out, but he held on and felt the jarring pain shake his body as he slammed into the broken turf of the fifty-yard line.  His vision blurred, his fight done with, all White Star could do now was hold on to consciousness long enough for the EMT crews to reach Cly.