The ruins trembled beneath their clash. Crimson lightning tore through the fractured walls, meeting streaks of pink-gold that bent the air. Every impact warped gravity itself—time stuttered, sound folded.
Jazmine skidded backward, her boots carving trails in the dust. Her chest heaved, each breath ragged but steadying. Fear glimmered behind her eyes—eyes now glowing yellow.
She lifted her staff, its shaft shaking from the force of her grip. "Not again," she whispered. "Not this time."
The staff began to change. Its molecules twisted, folding in on themselves as streams of pink-gold light laced through its core. Metal turned liquid, light solidified. Within seconds, the weapon had transformed—a blade forged from the seams of reality itself.
The Multiversal Sword emerged, its edge rippling with infinite depth. Within its surface swirled galaxies, shifting runes, echoes of creation. The very air bent toward it, singing with the hum of existence.
Grant stopped moving. The crimson glow across his armor dimmed as he regarded the weapon. The reflection of its light flickered across his mask like a heartbeat.
"You shouldn't even be able to hold that," he said quietly. "That sword was forged from the essence of existence itself."
Jazmine's voice trembled. "Then maybe existence wants to live."
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Lightning crawled across Grant's armor.
Grant's fury surged like a storm breaking its dam. The air cracked around him, red lightning bleeding through the ruined walls.
"You think you're saving Earth," he shouted, his voice echoing with distorted power. "I'm trying to save everything! Gravax isn't a threat to our world—he's a threat to the multiverse!"
Jazmine steadied her grip on the sword, her boots anchoring to the broken floor. The pink-gold blade pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, its glow steady, unyielding.
"Then let's stop him together," she said. "But if you can't stand beside me—"
She planted her feet, the hum of the sword deepening until it resonated through the air.
"—then I'll stop you myself."
Grant vanished in a flash of crimson. The ground cratered where he'd stood, and an afterimage streaked toward her like a red comet. The Multiversal Sword rose instinctively—guided by something beyond will, beyond muscle memory.
The moment their powers met, sound itself fractured.
A burst of red and pink erupted, a shockwave tearing through the ruins. Stone and steel dissolved into dust. Both were thrown back—Grant sliding through debris, Jazmine catching herself on one knee as light rained around them.
Grant looked down at his arm. The armor along his forearm had blackened, molten metal flaking away in chunks. Smoke curled from the wound.
"You… hurt me," he said, disbelief cutting through his voice.
"The sword did," Jazmine replied quietly. "Not me."
The blade pulsed once, as if alive, its light reflecting in her eyes like twin galaxies.
Grant's gaze hardened behind his mask. "You don't even realize what you're holding," he said, the crimson aura around him reigniting. "That weapon doesn't just protect existence."
"And it's judging you now," Jazmine said, her voice steady.
The ground split between them as energy gathered once more, red and gold spiraling upward like twin storms ready to devour the sky.
Jazmine drove the sword into the ground.
A blinding surge of pink-gold light rippled outward, warping the air with heat and pressure. The ruined floor split open as energy spiraled upward, condensing into a massive shape—an eight-foot figure of living light. Its form shifted like liquid glass, smooth and formless, faceless yet somehow aware.
The being knelt before her, its head bowed, a quiet pulse echoing from its chest in time with Jazmine's heartbeat.
Grant's fingers trembled before curling into fists.
"So that's it," he said, his voice edged with something dark. "You want an army?"
He stepped forward, light flickering violently around him. "Fine."
The air distorted. In a blur of red and static, his form split apart—then again, and again. Dozens of crimson silhouettes fanned out across the ruined hall, each moving with identical precision, identical fury. Every copy radiated lethal speed, each one pulsing with the same heartbeat.
At the center of them all, the true Grant sat cross-legged in a storm of energy. The floor beneath him cracked and burned as he sank into a meditative trance, a red aura spiraling around his body. Power flowed from him in steady waves, feeding the duplicates, keeping them alive.
The army of Grants moved as one.
The guardian rose to meet them.
When they clashed, the world broke open.
Crimson and pink collided in a deafening cascade, each impact brighter than lightning.
Shockwaves tore through the walls; windows imploded into molten dust. The guardian's massive hands caught two of the Grants mid-strike, crushing them into sparks, but three more appeared in their place—relentless, unstoppable.
Grant's voice echoed through all of them, a singular, resonant tone that filled the air like thunder.
"You can't win by standing still, Jazmine."
The guardian's chest flared, casting the room in blinding gold. One Grant blurred past it, slashing with a blade of pure lightning, only for the being to twist and drive him through the floor.
Still, the others kept coming.
One Grant fought hand-to-hand—red lightning against the guardian's cosmic strength—while the real one sat unmoving, power streaming from his body like veins of fire. His aura pulsed faster, louder, feeding them all.
Jazmine stood at the center of it, her hair lifting in the energy storm, the Multiversal Sword humming beside her like a heartbeat that belonged to the cosmos itself.
And the battle between creation and velocity began to consume the sky.
Jazmine moved before thought. The Multiversal Sword flared, a streak of living light cutting through the chaos as she charged.
Her blade struck Grant's defensive field, slicing through layers of red lightning and static distortion—but the aura around his meditating form pulsed violently in answer. A surge of crimson force rippled out, devouring the blade's edge and throwing her back in a shockwave that cracked the ground.
The sword screamed in her grip. Energy tore through her arm, searing skin and nerve alike. She gasped, dropping to one knee, her palm smoking where the hilt had burned her.
The guardian roared in response, rising to shield her. It swung a colossal arm toward Grant's copies, its form fracturing under the strain. But before it could connect, the duplicates flickered—then folded back into a single figure, the real Grant standing at their center.
His body blazed white-hot, lightning crawling beneath his skin like molten wire. He thrust one hand forward, and a massive crimson claw—pure energy, jagged and alive—manifested around his arm.
With a violent crack, he drove it through the guardian's chest.
The being convulsed, light spilling from the wound in glittering waves. Its form disintegrated, shattering into countless fragments that drifted upward like dying stars before fading into nothing.
Grant stood amid the aftermath, panting, his armor flickering between matter and energy. Half human, half storm.
"You can't hurt me," he said, his voice raw, distorted, and echoing with power. "Not even with the Multiversal Sword."
The white in his eyes burned brighter, hollow and merciless.
Across the battlefield, Jazmine forced herself to stand. Her breath came ragged, her skin glowing faintly in the wake of the feedback. The sword still hummed in her grasp, weakened but alive.
She lifted her gaze.
Her eyes—once gold, once red—ignited now into pure, unfiltered pink.
The color of creation itself.
Grant stood with his back to her, the last embers of the guardian still fading from his armor. The hum of power around him pulsed, unstable and erratic—each beat like thunder trapped inside a cage.
Jazmine steadied her breathing. Her burned hand shook, but her focus didn't waver. She reached into the air beside her, shaping raw light with careful precision.
A pink syringe took form in her grasp, the needle glowing with a bright green tip that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Grant turned. "What are you—"
She moved before he could finish.
The syringe plunged into his chest with a soft hiss.
The reaction was instant. Red and white energy ripped free from his body in streaming arcs, spiraling into the syringe like twin comets. His armor flickered, the lightning around him snapping out. The mask dissolved. His eyes rolled back—white, then black—as his power collapsed inward.
Jazmine caught him before he fell, her hands pressing against his chestplate, holding him steady as his breathing faltered.
"Grant," she whispered, voice breaking. "We're still a team. We still have to save our Earth—together."
For a long moment, everything stopped. The air hung still. The only sound was the echo of his slowing heartbeat.
Then Grant exhaled—shaky but alive. The glow returned, faint at first, then steady. His eyes opened, no longer white but clear, human again.
He looked down at her, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Lucky for you," he murmured, taking the syringe gently from her hand, "you just found a way for us to defeat Gravax."
Before she could answer, he pushed the plunger.
The energy shot back into him—but this time, it didn't fight. It intertwined.
Pink and red light spiraled together, rising around them in a storm of molten gold. The two auras merged, harmonizing instead of colliding.
Jazmine's staff lifted on its own. Grant's ring flared in sync.
For the first time, their power sang the same note.
The light expanded, reaching through the cracks of the ruined hospital, spilling out into the open world.
When it finally settled, the two of them stood side by side—unbroken, fused by something greater than force.
The Red Tempest and the Starborn Protector had become one.