Mewtwo dove from the sky like a bolt of violet lightning.
Every instinct screamed that this was it—the most probable hideout, the only kind of place that fit the pattern. Somewhere people came to disappear for a few hours, where sleep was a service and secrets were currency. A brothel was the perfect mask for a dream-walker.
And then he saw him.
A man staggered out through a narrow side door, half-collapsing against the brick wall as he tried to walk. His clothes were torn, soaked through with blood at the ribs and shoulders. He looked too young—early twenties, mid at most—and that was immediately strange. The Symbol of Fear had haunted Japan for over two decade. He should've been older.
Still, Mewtwo couldn't ignore it. He landed in front of the man, his aura pressing outward in a controlled wave.
The stranger froze. For just a heartbeat, his eyes widened—black and glassy in the dim light—and that was enough.
Mewtwo saw the flicker of recognition.
The wounds matched too: slashes across the chest, deep bruises on the arms and side, the kind you'd get if a collapsing dream-space had tried to crush you.
"You thought I couldn't find you?" Mewtwo said, his voice slow and cold. "I told you—the mind is my territory."
He wasn't completely sure yet, but his words were meant to cut. If this was the man he thought it was, the bluff alone would sting deeper than any blade.
The young man's expression twisted. "Damn it… I didn't think you'd track me down so fast. Did I leave a trail?" He gave a hollow laugh that cracked mid-breath. "This is a first."
"I figured as much," Mewtwo replied. "You prey on people's dreams and minds—but you've never faced someone who domain there. You picked the wrong target this time."
The villain tilted his head, his voice thin, amused, trembling. "That girl… I didn't expect anyone to reach her dream from the inside. That was my mistake. And now look at me—pathetic." He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground, exhaling sharply. "The worst part? I can't even fight back like this."
Mewtwo didn't move. His gaze stayed fixed, cold and assessing. He's talking too easily, he thought. Wounded or not, he's dangerous.
Without another word, he raised a hand. The nearby streetlight bent and twisted under psychic pressure, wrapping around the man like a cage. Metal groaned as it pinned him firmly to the wall.
Mewtwo tapped his earpiece. "Kaina—I found him. He's alive, restrained, heavily injured."
Static crackled, then Kaina's voice burst through, sharp and urgent. "Don't let him out of your sight. I'm sending a containment team right now. You hear me, Raiden? Don't move him."
"Understood," Mewtwo said quietly.
He crouched beside the man, keeping his distance. The wounds were bad—deep gashes, internal bruising, blood loss—but not fatal. Not yet. By protocol, he couldn't let a suspect die in custody, no matter how vile.
He extended his hand. A gentle wave of bluish light water spread over the villain's body—Life Dew. The bleeding slowed, his breathing steadied, color returning faintly to his face.
"Don't thank me," Mewtwo murmured, standing again. "You're not healed. Just stable enough to face judgment."
The Symbol of Fear smirked weakly, his voice a rasp.
"Heh… how ironic. I built nightmares—and now I'm trapped in yours."
Mewtwo didn't hesitate. The moment the Symbol of Fear was stabilized, he lifted the man effortlessly with telekinesis, suspending him in a cocoon of violet energy. The villain floated limply beside him as Mewtwo rose above the rooftops, moving quickly through the narrow alleys.
They were halfway to the extraction point when every instinct in Mewtwo's body screamed danger.
It wasn't subtle—it hit like a static charge through his mind, the kind of warning honed through dozens of near-death fights. His senses sharpened instantly.
And then the ground split open.
Dozens of hands erupted from the pavement, clawing upward in a violent spiral. The asphalt burned beneath them, leaving smoldering marks that glowed red-hot. Mewtwo recognized them immediately—he'd seen those grotesque hands before.
The Symbol of Progress subordinate.
"Revenge?" Mewtwo thought grimly, pulling back sharply.
Before he could reposition, a new threat flickered in his peripheral vision—fine wires, metallic and glinting under the early light, slicing through the air like razors. They weren't random. They were aimed directly at the wounded man floating beside him.
Mewtwo snapped into motion.
His telekinetic grip shifted, spinning both himself and his captive midair. The wires sliced past where his neck had been a second earlier. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a Psychoshock, sending a shockwave of psychic energy outward. The force clashed against the web of wires, snapping some mid-flight and twisting others into the walls.
But it wasn't over.
A figure emerged from the shadowed end of the alley—thin, wrapped in the same steel threads that had just attacked. His movements were smooth, predatory, and his gaze was locked on the Symbol of Fear.
"They're not after me," Mewtwo realized. "They're after him."
He tightened his telekinetic hold and prepared to move—only for the ground to rupture again.
This time, there was only one hand.
It didn't crawl from the earth—it emerged from a hole in space. A dark, swirling void tore open beside him, and from it reached a hand in a black suit sleeve.
Mewtwo's mind went blank for a fraction of a second.
He didn't recognized that hand.
Before he could react, the hand warped—stretching, twisting, mutating. The skin blackened, expanding grotesquely, and then—
—two black spheres shot out from its palm.
They moved like gravitational bombs.
They struck before Mewtwo could dodge.
The first sphere grazed his shoulder, the second hit full force—
—and his world exploded in black light.
For the first time in a long while—maybe since his battle with Muscular—someone hit Mewtwo that hard.
The impact wasn't just physical. It was a shockwave that tore the air apart, caving his chest inward, knocking the breath out of him before he even realized what had happened. Pain shot through his ribs like splintered glass as he was hurled backward, breaking through the side of a building, then another, before finally crashing down on a deserted street two blocks away.
He lay there for half a second, his vision swimming, dust and concrete raining down around him. Blood trailed from the corner of his mouth.
'What kind of power is that…?' he thought, forcing himself upright.
His chest burned with every breath, bones creaking audibly under the strain. 'That wasn't just strength. That was raw destruction. no one had hit me this hard before'
He could name only a handful of people who might hit like that—and none of them were villains.
Without a second thought, Mewtwo shot back into the sky, psychic energy flaring violently around him as he retraced the path of his fall.
When he reached the alley, chaos awaited him.
The Symbol of Fear was being dragged underground, half-buried by dozens of those crawling, blackened hands. And the man wrapped in steel wires—the one he'd seen earlier—was lunging at him again, his metallic threads twisting through the air like snakes.
Mewtwo's eyes narrowed. Whoever had hit him wasn't after a fight—they were here to take the Symbol of Fear.
He wouldn't allow it.
A flash of blue light burst from his body as he used Life Dew, knitting together the worst of his broken ribs, the blood on his lips fading as the healing energy spread. Immediately after, he raised one hand and unleashed Psychoshock, the wave tearing through the incoming wires and snapping them midair.
The steel-wrapped attacker was fast, using the momentum of his spinning cables to launch himself forward—but Mewtwo was faster.
As they passed each other in a blur, Mewtwo's tail snapped once, grazing a single thread. Electricity surged across the wire network in an instant. The man screamed as lightning arced through his entire body, convulsing before collapsing to the ground in a smoking heap.
Mewtwo didn't stop moving. He extended his hand again, telekinesis flaring at full power, and ripped the Symbol of Fear free from the crawling hands. The villain shot through the air toward him—but before Mewtwo could grab him, space itself tore open above.
Another hand.
The same hand.
It reached out from a swirling void, gloved in black fabric, impossibly large now. Mewtwo's instincts screamed—he fired a Shadow Ball at point-blank range.
The two attacks collided midair—his violet sphere against… air?
No—compressed air.
The sheer force of it slammed against him, pinning him down. Mewtwo gritted his teeth, pushing back with every ounce of psychic power he had. The ground beneath his feet cracked, spiderweb fractures spreading in all directions. The air pressure grew so intense it made the buildings around them groan.
He poured more power into his Shadow Ball, its surface boiling with unstable light. The air cannon didn't relent, but then Mewtwo saw it—the hand beyond the rift was bleeding, veins bursting from the strain.
'He's overexerting,' Mewtwo realized. 'If I hold out a little longer, I can—'
Then everything shifted.
A disgusting, tar-like liquid began to pour from the Symbol of Fear's mouth, enveloping his body. The same sludge crawled over the unconscious man in wires, swallowing him whole. The hands retreated into the ground, the void closing as the air pressure dissipated with a dull, thunderous crack.
And in two seconds—everything was gone.
The alley was silent. The only sound was Mewtwo's own ragged breathing.
He floated there amidst the debris, cracked pavement beneath him, the city sirens echoing faintly in the distance.
"I… lost? not that's not the case, just what happened?" he whispered to himself.
No enemy. No trace. Only the wreckage left behind—and the faint taste of failure in his mouth.