It was said in the Old Tales that the Dream Dimension had once held cities, kingdoms, and entire worlds. The legends spoke of countless settlements, primitive yet full of life, culture, and civilization. No one understood what had turned the Gods against the humans of that Dimension, nor what drove those civilizations into the ruins they now inhabited. In the present age, the Dream Dimension had become nothing more than an empty gateway, a place between destinations for wandering travellers. No one knew the truth of what had reduced it to this state. They knew only the stories of the Gods, and of the serpent in the sea, the one no man was ever meant to name.
And now, as the battle between Issen and the Fakir was reaching its conclusion, a light of energy was forming between them.
In the midst of the glow, they stared at one another, and each saw the truth hidden inside the other. Issen saw the haunted, withered gaze of the Fakir. Behind Issen's smile, the Fakir saw the burden in his eyes, and the restrained intensity hidden beneath his easy demeanour.
Outside the arena, in the darkness, stood rose-tinted towers, packed with prisoners fighting to prove their worth so that they might one day stand before the Emperor. Fading shadows drifted through the haunted streets, while a great swirl hung low in the sky above. The wise already sensed that something unnatural had disturbed their land, and for this evening at least, they chose to remain hidden.
The arena itself was a stretch of pale dust and shadow. Its interior resembled a rotting colosseum, its old seating halls and passageways converted into prison cells that still allowed the captives to watch the battles below. When the fights began, many prisoners sat together in silence, even those who had once been enemies.
Before them, the two combatants circled one another with cautious steps.
Issen bounced lightly back and forth while the Fakir crouched low, preparing to charge. Steam-like trails of Axiom energy drifted into the air, carrying the faint heat of sunlight toward the watching prisoners.
The Fakir studied his opponent carefully. He did not scoff or smile, but there was a certainty in his expression, as though he already knew how this battle would end.
"You are running out of energy," he said. "This is your last stand."
Issen laughed between heavy breaths as he continued to shift his footing.
"Yeah, I'm almost finished," he admitted. "Almost. But you know what? So are you."
"You are mistaken. I still possess plenty of strength."
"No. In that last exchange, I already found my killing blow. One more clean shot and you're dead. This fight's nearly over." He smiled faintly. "I could ask why we don't stop here and walk away. But I already know how this ends. That's the burden of the life we live."
"Yes," the Fakir replied quietly. "That is how it is meant to be."
An awkward silence lingered between them.
Then, for the first time, the Fakir began to laugh.
"What are you laughing at, you idiot?" Issen grinned.
"This," the Fakir answered, "is how it was always meant to be. What are we but dust? Our beauty lies in our perishing."
The Fakir turned slightly away from the battle. For a brief moment, the posture of his body and the calmness in his face made him seem both far younger and impossibly older, like a stream hiding some ancient glowing depth beneath its waters.
"Life is pain," he said. "And that pain is all things. The tear upon the cheek of the abandoned princess. The final breath of the hero marching into battle. The struggle of the rose as it blooms, only to wither. The birds fly high above us, and through suffering, we join them."
He would not fight cautiously any longer.
In the next exchange, he intended to trade everything he had.
Something inside him told him this was how it had to happen. A faint light appeared before his eyes, and he glimpsed a place from another reality entirely. In that instant, he understood what was required of him.
Issen sensed the change immediately and steadied himself.
"The gold of life is play," Issen said. "If you can face the blood, the tears, the sorrow, and still see the play within it all, then you've already found the wealth you spent your whole life searching for. That's what it means to go beyond suffering."
"Play?" the Fakir murmured. "Perhaps we have lived very different lives."
"But isn't it majestic? This is how it is, and how it always will be. The stars burn brighter because they are mortal. And they are not suffering. They are singing. What are we within all this?" He laughed softly. "A joke. A foolish little joke. And that is the majesty of it."
The Fakir gave a weary, understanding smile, the kind an old man wore as the final heartbeats of the day approached.
Then the final exchange began.
White-hot muscles tensed. Screams tore through the air.
The Fakir charged forward while Issen anchored himself with Axiom Earth, preparing his defence even as he launched an Axiom Blade designed to ricochet toward its target.
Closer and closer they came, inside a moment that seemed eternal, as the light of energy between now exploded with radiance.
To the onlookers, they no longer appeared human. They had become something greater, manifestations of opposing truths. Every prisoner watching had become lost in the spectacle before them. Time itself seemed to repeat an ancient moment that had occurred endlessly across eternity.
And from many miles away, Bethryl of the Shen Clan suddenly stopped.
Her eyes sparkled faintly as she looked ahead and witnessed the ending of the battle through her visions.
"What's wrong, Bethryl?" Raizo asked.
"I know the truth of the world now," she whispered. "I do not understand these visions of mine. But I can now see the beginning and ending of the world. And if only it had all been different."
Raizo walked ahead through the dust-filled cave, scanning for hidden structures or wandering figures before turning back toward her.
"Even I do not fully understand your ability," he admitted. "I have seen many Axiom users, but none like you. I would not wish to carry your burden. To walk with truths that should never be revealed… the only ending to such a story is madness. It is a tragedy."
They emerged from the cave toward a burning light.
Why did my curiosity lead me here? Bethryl wondered. What have I truly gained by descending so far below? I know the truth now, but has it freed me at all?
Can anyone truly call themselves free?
The final exchange between Issen and the Fakir reached its climax beneath the flood of light.
The Fakir saw something.
In his suffering, he had abandoned awareness of his body entirely, and his mind wandered elsewhere. Before him stood an eternal palace, the destination he had sought from the beginning of his journey through pain. It was so close. He knew that in this place, he would see the faces of the Gods.
Why are we not meant to reach it? he thought.
Then the Fakir lowered his head.
He understood.
He had lost.
Issen's blade struck deep into the Fakir's back while the Fakir's final blow swept harmlessly through empty air. The old man fell to his knees, and Issen caught him before he collapsed fully, holding him upright.
The light had now disappeared.
"It's finished now," Issen said quietly.
"Why do you look so sad?" the Fakir asked weakly. "You have won."
"I've lived this life for a long time," Issen replied. "I know what it means to survive. It isn't as sweet as people imagine. It's a shame that the opponent you're meant to kill becomes the only person capable of understanding you… only to disappear."
"Yes," the Fakir whispered. "It is all a bitter tragedy. Nothing but suffering."
He smiled faintly.
"But there is beauty in suffering, is there not?"
The Fakir died in Issen's arms.
And then, suddenly, Issen lost consciousness.
He did not understand why. Something had been done to him, some kind of Axiom ability he could not identify.
When he awoke, he was back in the darkness. Several guards stood around his cell, deep in discussion.
"What's going on?" Issen asked.
"There has been a change in plans," one of the guards replied.
He stared down at Issen carefully.
"For your next fight, you will perform before the Emperor."