Now just outside of the dark hole that Devon had been in, were two figures staring at each other.
Two middle-aged men stood just a few centimeters away from each other.
It was the commander of the ship and the man who had saved Devon, Thyrus.
His mask had been broken when trying to help Devon remember who he was, his conical helmet somewhere in that abyss.
He retracted his suit.
Then with a thud, he dropped heavily to the ground, his head bowed, one knee up.
"I was in the wrong, Commander, I apolo."
He hadn't finished when a knee was driven directly into his face, sending him crashing through the ship, his body tearing through the metal interiors that once felt unbreakable.
He broke through several layers before coming to a halt.
Lying weakly on the floor.
The orange-haired boy grabbed onto the arm sleeve of the man called Commander Leygold.
"Commander, he already apologized, this isn't necessary," the boy said, his face calm, but traces of anger were visible.
The commander stared at the boy, his face tightening with anger. He dragged his arm away, ripping off the sleeve that now remained in the boy's grip.
He stepped forward and appeared in front of Thyrus, whose face was covered in blood as he struggled to stand.
The commander finally drew his sword.
The change was not just with the sword, but with his body.
Just like what had happened with Thyrus, black threads began forming over him, spreading rapidly until they enclosed him completely.
Apart from the intricate lines that formed around his body, two things stood out.
On his head was a helmet with two horns at the front.
His left arm, the one holding the sword, grew larger, almost twice the size of the other.
The sword darkened and fused to his arm, like an energy blade.
"Stand up," he said.
"Enable your Morph, activate Surge as well, if you don't believe in the afterlife."
Thyrus stood up, his earlier look of mercy gone.
He stared into the eyes of Leygold without breaking contact.
His armor formed once again, covering his entire body.
Then a sharp sound came from behind.
Thyrus caught the incoming object.
It was his conical helmet.
He placed it on his head and entered a battle stance.
Leygold smiled as he saw it.
A short distance behind them stood the orange-haired boy and the four troopers that had followed the commander.
The boy, Lucci, looked at the soldiers behind him.
"Get out of here, I can smell your fear, it's disgusting."
"But the commander," one of them began.
The boy spoke again.
"You will die by the same hands that ordered you, if you do not leave, your death is certain."
They hesitated, fear evident on their faces, but still turned and left.
Almost instantly, a wave of energy surged through the ship.
It was red, matching the glow on Thyrus's suit, no doubt it came from him.
The boy's nose began to bleed.
Devon was still lying unconscious beside him.
With a kick, he sent Devon sliding across the metal floor, away from the battlefield.
He turned his full attention to the fight ahead.
He knew Thyrus was strong, but comparing him to the commander was like comparing a lion to a dog.
Thyrus's suit, which once glowed faintly along its core lines, now burned with an intense red light, his presence suffocating.
Boom.
The first attack was fast, the shockwave tearing through the walls of the floor.
When the force cleared, Thyrus's hand was seen blocking Leygold's blade.
Leygold smiled.
"I wouldn't have expected anything less from a rival."
They clashed again, their bodies moving in blurs as they traded blows with speed and precision.
Unlike the first strike, their power was now controlled, only fragments of metal scattered with each exchange.
They both knew they could destroy the ship with a single attack.
This was no longer about raw power.
It was about precision, directing every ounce of energy at each other.
Over time, the clash became one-sided.
Even with the surge in his power, Thyrus was losing.
Most of his armor had already fallen apart.
The parts that exposed his flesh revealed deep cuts, some so severe bone could be seen.
Blood began pooling across the floor where they fought.
And yet, the commander remained almost untouched.
Aside from a few dents from earlier strikes, he stood firm.
He continued his assault without pause.
Thyrus's punches grew weaker, while Leygold's strikes became heavier.
With a powerful slash aimed at his side, intending to split him in two, a voice rang out.
"Father, please, that's enough."
Lucci's voice trembled as he watched from afar, tears forming in his eyes.
The commander stopped, his blade inches from cutting through.
He turned slightly and powered down part of his mask, just enough to reveal his eyes.
He pulled the blade free, flicked off the blood, and sheathed it.
With a single step, he appeared beside the boy, their backs facing each other.
"What took you so long, son."
The boy clenched his teeth but said nothing.
"I will kill him soon enough, today is a good day for me, so he lives."
"I heard what you said, the reason he almost died today was because of you."
"Tell me, how long will you keep hurting him for your own selfish reasons, Lucci."
"When you are ready, you know where to find me."
Then he vanished.
The boy stood there, his arms falling weakly to his sides, staring at the pool of blood and the man lying within it.
Almost at that same moment, I regained consciousness.
Oblivious to everything that had happened.
I was more concerned about the lack of clothes on my body.
And the black tentacles stretching slowly across my back.