Masamale laughed.
It wasn't a wild, drunken howl anymore. It was something slow. Deliberate. The kind of laugh that followed genocide. "Well said, dog-boy," she cooed. "But lemme tell you something…" She raised a hand. The storm cracked. Her voice deepened with static and menace. "You got ten seconds? Then I'm giving you nine."
The countdown had begun.
Her fingers twitched. Energy built like a collapsing dimension. The very laws of language twisted around her as she prepared her final ritual: a move forbidden by three celestial courts and six pantheons.
"RITUAL: QATASH'S INHERITANCE — MOUTHS OF THE VOID-FATHER."
Nine apocalyptic heads of energy burst from behind her like demonic halos, each screaming with the hunger of extinct gods.
Jetts, wounded, rose anyway. "We need to hit her with everything. Right now."
Arora gritted her teeth. "I'll break the treaty. I don't care anymore."
Ungar's arms surged with raw spirit fire. "Then let's make it hurt."
Lupus took a breath.
Nine seconds left.
He raised his hands—burning with divinity again. Glyphs returned, one by one. His spine straightened. His eye reopened.
And then—
"FIRE TECHNIQUE: CELESTIAL HOWL — BLEEDING STAR NOVA!!!"
He howled.
It wasn't just a war-cry—it was the scream of a galaxy in labor, the scream of a father who refused to die before protecting his children, the scream of a soul that refused annihilation.
The battle resumed.
But now, it was no longer just a fight.
It was a war against despair itself.
And Masamale—the Drunken Herald of Qatash—was just getting started.
A New Day and A New World:
Okirun was a young man about 15 going on 16 who had recently met Dr. Amadeus about oh two years ago, he went on some adventures with him, but before Doctor Amadeus departed he gave Okirun a magic mirror. The mirror only went two ways; the mirror was a bridge between two alternate parallel universes. Okirun was a white haired boy and he met the alternate version of himself through the mirror for the last two years between the ages of 13 and 15 now 16 they would hop between worlds for fun. We'll call them Okirun I and Okirun II to keep it simple. You see, Okirun I and II came from Earth, a version of Earth that was part of a fantastical-galactic universe. It would be marked under the sci-fi fantasy section of the library sort of like a crossover between the Lord of the Rings and Star Trek just to simplify my point. Okirun I lived in poverty and wanted to experience wealth and luxury, and Okirun II wanted to experience the simple things so they would effectively trade places. Okirun I learned what Okirun II knew a long time ago that he could fly something that was relatively common in his world, but he had learned it only recently he constantly learned how to refine it. It was one of those days he was jumping off the water tower until his interdimensional counterpart approached him to tell them they were going to swap places. Okirun I loved living in luxury but he missed the fact that he wouldn't be having relations with his girlfriend for a while.
Okirun I stood on the very edge of the old Sector-9 water tower, hands on his hips, chest puffed out like some kind of cosmic superhero who had just saved the world by sheer confidence alone. His white hair whished in the wind like it had a life of its own, and the violet scarf around his neck fluttered with the drama of someone who definitely thought he was being watched by a camera crew. And honestly, if there was a camera crew, they'd be lucky to film a scene like this.
"Alright, alright," he muttered to himself. "The sky is clear. Wind strong. Vibe immaculate. Lets stop fucking around Okirun. It's time to jump."
He cracked his knuckles, then pointed at the sky.
"You ready, sky? 'Cause I'm about to OWN you. FUCK YEAH! HERE WE GO!!"
He crouched low, gathering up the invisible force of Spirit Wind into his legs. The glow around his feet began to shimmer, and small pebbles on the water tower trembled in excitement.
"Initiating launch protocol: Super Sonic Spiral Flip™—version 5-point-2! Let's FLYYY!"
He jumped— And just like that, the sky exploded around him. Blue trails spiraled behind him like comet dust. He twisted mid-air, flipped into a triple corkscrew, then casually laid on his back while floating 200 feet above ground. "Pffft. Too easy. I'm getting too good at this."
With a flourish of his fingers, he launched himself sideways and glided across the sky like a snow-white rocket surfing a rainbow. Two years ago, this had been impossible. He could barely hover off the ground. Now? He was basically the sky's adopted child. He did a couple more ridiculous mid-air twirls just because he could, then slowly floated back down toward the tower. He landed, grinning.
"Perfect. New record for the cleanest landing with maximum flair. Eat your heart out, Charles Lindhberg."
As if summoned by sheer name-drop energy, a soft ripple vibrated in the air behind him. Okirun I turned, still holding the smugest of smirks. There he was. Okirun II, calm as always, stepping through a mirror-portal with his trademark half-smile and ridiculously well-ironed coat. The stars embroidered along his sleeves shimmered like constellations. "You were flying again, weren't you?"
Okirun I scoffed at this: "Psh. I was mastering the wind, thank you very much," Okirun I replied, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Are you here to trade snacks again or are we finally doing the ol' switcheroo?"
Okirun II held up the Mirror. It pulsed gently between their worlds like it always had—shimmering blue and silver with just a hint of gold sparkle, like a fancy limited-edition sticker.
"I think we both know why I'm here," he said. "You're turning sixteen tomorrow. That was the deal."
Okirun I's smirk faltered for just a second. Not in sadness—just in reflection.
"Yeah… yeah, I remember. Two years of swapping. You get the simple life. I get the gardens and butler robots, I get the sweet fucking drip, its a shame that I don't get to have sex though."
Okirun II was confused: "What are you talking about my girlfriend is identical, are you telling me that you haven't been having sex with my girlfriend? Why?" said Okirun II, honestly confused. Okirun I said: "Look I know you think I'm a selfish asshole, but even if you're right I would never cheat," said I. O II said calmly: "I do think you're a selfish asshole but this has nothing to do with that." O I's face expanded in exhaustion: "Then what are you talking about?" O II replied calmly: "Our girlfriends are both named Jessica, they look the same, they're identical whenever I have jumped to your world I've done the deed." O I was shocked, "ARE YOU SERIOUS?! YOU'VE BEEN BANGING MY GIRLFRIEND?!" O II was shocked: "And you really haven't?... Well I guess that's the green light. Have fun when you're over there you can tell me about it if you want. I could only honestly care less since you are me, it's like if my girlfriend slept with a woman. You're the same man afterall," said O II. O I gasped: "How can you say that?!" OI replied: "Because unlike you asshole I take this multiverse stuff seriously, and by the way, next time I try to connect with my family. Last time I came back I got a lecture for being a selfish prick. I know you're at fault for that," said OII. O I said "Yeah, yeah, fair enough, I guess I'll screw your girlfriend and I'll be a little nicer to your family."
OII smiled: "And we both got what we wanted." "No regrets," Okirun I said with a grin, scratching the back of his head. "Okay, maybe one [except for you banging my GF before I get the chance to make up for lost time]. I left my favorite hoverboard in your garage again."
Okirun II chuckled.
"I'll mail it through the portal. Or better yet just grab it when you get there. You'll be there for six months."
They stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other—not just like twins, but like brothers who had seen each other grow from clumsy kids into actual people. Okirun I looked down at the city—the gritty skyline, the glowing signs, the half-broken pipes and magic crystals embedded in skyscrapers. The chaos. The charm. The weirdness. He loved every bit of it. But a promise was a promise.
He stepped toward the mirror, both hands outstretched.
"One last time?"
Okirun II nodded. Together, they each touched one side of the mirror. It glowed. Nothing dramatic, no explosions or time-bending anomalies—just a beautiful pulse of warm light, like the sun rising on a calm day. And in an instant—they had switched.
Okirun II—now back in Sector-9—stood on the edge of the same water tower. He looked around, took a deep breath of that dusty, ozone-charged air, and gave a small smile.
"...He wasn't kidding. The chaos does grow on you."
He spread his arms, let the Spirit Wind wrap around his body— Then leapt into the sky. Meanwhile Okirun arrived in the mirror verse he was in the attic he climbed to the bedroom below on the uppermost flow jumped on his bed. Started reading a Playboy and then threw it aside. He began to eat Doritos and Oreos. He had a fast metabolism so he never gained weight no matter how much he ate, so he began to eat like a pig and began watching MTV and vulgar comedy shows. "God this is killer. This is so fucking sweet. God I hate being poor, I love the fact that I'll be living it up as a rich kid for the next six months. Man my other self sucks, he's such a fucking douchebag," said Okirun. His mother knocked on the door. "Okirun, come downstairs its dinner time." Okirun was about to give his normal response, "Sit and spin mom, I don't want to deal with your fucking bullshit today." But he remembered what his counterpart said and he forced himself to say: "Fine Mom, give me one minute." He threw the Doritos and Oreos aside: "God fucking damnit." Okirun came downstairs and was introduced to his alternate mom's new boyfriend. Okirun I came trudging downstairs like a man walking to his own execution—except this execution smelled like casserole and the ghost of Axe body spray. He adjusted his hoodie, wiped Oreo dust from his mouth, and muttered under his breath, "Let's just get this over with."
In the dining room stood his mother, smiling a little too hard. And beside her… Was a man. No. A figure. A presence. A being who seemed to defy all reason and taste in one horrifying mass of contradictions. He had a ponytail that looked like it hadn't been washed since the Bush administration. He wore a faded "Final Fantasy VIII" T-shirt two sizes too small, revealing a soft underbelly that jiggled like a bowl of haunted pudding. His skin was ghostly white—not pale, but alabaster, like he'd been sculpted out of mozzarella and regret. He had a goatee that seemed to grow sideways, thick Coke-bottle glasses, and worst of all…
The voice. "Ohhhhhh~!" the man squealed, spinning with one hand on his hip like a knockoff anime villain who didn't know what anime was. "So this is the legendary Okirun! Hee-hee!" "...Mom," Okirun I whispered, backing up like he was facing a final boss. "What… the hell is that?" "Don't be rude," his mom snapped. "This is Chester-Michael. We've been seeing each other for three months now." "Wait. Chester-Michael?" Chester-Michael Jackson turned and winked. "That's right, baby! I used to go by Michael. But you know, ever since I crossed dimensions and saw the truth about interdimensional groove-funk, I reinvented myself. I'm basically the white MJ, but with more depth and less pressure from the media. Hee-hee~!" He reached into his cargo shorts—yes, cargo shorts—and pulled out a vape shaped like a moonwalk shoe. "Wanna hit the 'Thriller Cloud,' lil man?"
"I want to fucking die," Okirun whispered. Chester-Michael took a step forward, his sandal slapping audibly against his heel like a wet sock. "I used to tour with an off-brand tribute group in the Great Mushroom Sector—MoonJam Infinite. Have you ever moonwalk in zero gravity? Let me tell you, kid—it's smoother than peanut butter and twice as dangerous." Okirun's mom beamed. "Isn't he fun?" "I'm going to kill my other self, this is so fucking weak" Okirun muttered through gritted teeth. Chester-Michael suddenly pulled out a glittery glove from somewhere. "Wanna hear my remix of 'Smooth Criminal' mixed with Gregorian chants and lo-fi beats to study?" "No." "It's called Smooth Canonical. I've got like four followers on Interdimensigram, kid. I'm practically famous."
Okirun stood frozen. He was witnessing something cosmic. Not divine, not demonic. Just... cringe. Pure, primordial cringe. "Excuse me," he said, turning around. His mother raised a brow. "Where are you going?" "I'm going back to my room," he said calmly, "to pray to whatever deity exists that this is all a simulation." As he reached the stairs, Chester-Michael called out: "Lemme know if you wanna join my D&D campaign later! I'm the Dungeon Maestro of the Crystal Funk Lords!" "NO THANK YOU," Okirun yelled without turning around.
Behind him, he could hear the horrifying start of Chester-Michael's high-pitched "Shamone~" echoing through the house like a cursed flute. Okirun slammed the door behind him, fell onto the bed, face down, and whispered: "…Six months. I just have to survive six months." And somewhere—across the mirror—Okirun II sneezed. The mirror shivered slightly. He thought he saw an image of a being (Ungar). Something told both of them: This… was only the beginning.
The scholars:
After the Prophet saved her companion Talus from the Federation she went to battle Tyrannus after that she left her friends for Ten Years where she met a mysterious being (Guldo), to try to rekindle her faith in God (The Nus) - Most High. She traveled to Umi and there she battled Moloch but did much more while she traveled those lands, much more than this. We need to go over what she recounted of her travels in Umi. This is of the highest importance in learning from the excellent example of our Beloved Prophet (May God bestow peace on her).
To Be Continued in Episode VIII: