And Now For Something Completely Different...

A CHHHOOO-OOOHHHH!!!!
Auuuughhhh....

Tossing and turning in my bed, I shifted my head towards the nightstand, staring blankly at the clock until my vision unblurred.

Day 4 of The 129th Rasheul Great **** Tournament
05:14

Ugh....
Still night.
My mind cried in protest for more rest. From the way my body burned and my head thumped though, no way was I getting another wink of sleep. I folded a napkin over my nose. I took a deep breath through my mouth, and a throttling blare **** a viscous torrent into the napkin. Then I tossed the crumpled up napkin on the floor, at a heap of papers just like it.

Yeah, maybe it looked bad... And it was.
But I knew my body. Once I poured myself a gallon of coffee or two, I'd be as good as new. Maybe a ginger shot at the bar as well.
At least I'd be good enough not to feel like I'm torn apart by the seams... Until I land in bed again in the evening.

Look, I was already committed to stand up against Hebi-san. I wasn't about to change my mind.
This is just what to expect when traveling to new places. Your body gets exposed to a whole new environment. It just needs time to readjust its immune system.
Trust me, I'm find.
...I'm find.
I'm fiiinnnnd....

I blew my nose again. And again, a crumpled napkin fell to the floor.
Hey, remember how I complained about no one taking that Zig-Zag guy seriously? All the ladies insisted on collecting him as a trophy, whether they actually had a shot at it or not.
Well, about his last opponent, turns out she wasn't all about that! She was all business!
Now, I don't always think that all business is that great. In fact, I can't imagine a worse hell than having to listen to someone who wouldn't know a joke if it walked up to them and slapped them in the face with a pink rubber chicken. But hey, if I can get someone to show my Zaggy Ziggy how it's done, then I'll take it!

You know what else? Turns out she's quite the fighter as well, that Valkyrie chick!
Man, that was quite the match! I'd tell you all about how it went, except...

Cough!
Cough!

...Yeah, I'm in no mood to be the narrator at all right now. Couldn't do it even if I wanted to.
So here's what I'm gonna do: I'm gonna pawn off the job to Valkyrie herself. Just for a moment. Let her tell her own story, as it were.
...All right, so you're probably wondering why you should care about this fight if I didn't bother to build up the stakes for it. Well, to be fair, as far as story setups we can certainly do better than this Tournament. Everyone here just fights for the sake of fighting. Not just that! Whatever they are fighting for, the fact they'll be healed up after each match, even from ****, means that there's no way these matches can have any consequences! Unless of course, someone becomes a ****; which I've got no intention of letting happen.

So it's kind of hard to make the story matter either way.
As for me, I was just in it to test out my inventions. And I thought that's why you were here too!
But... Come on! Just give her a chance. At least until I've gotten myself ready to put a foot out of this bed.

I mean, it's not like you'd wanna see my writhing in my bed all sick and tired, right?
Right.

...And in case you were wondering:
Yes, this does count as a flashback.
Deal with it.

Day 3 of The 129th Rasheul Great **** Tournament
12:59 AM

He was not repugnant, the man before me. Thick silky hair shimmering like silver in the sun. Handsome features, reflecting reliability and ambition. Lean yet muscular frame.
There are those who would say the evisceration of such a man would be a considerabe tragedy. I am not like those.
In battle, appearance counts for nothing. There is only winning and losing

I intended to win.

"FIGHT!"

I lunged at him with a kick to the ground. Right on the signal.
The sky became blotted by purple mist. The clouds swirled into themselves. The amorphous mist reshaped, becoming oversized blades. Solid, yet remaining afloat. The moment each sword materialized, a melodic peal rang out. That sound signaled their edges were sharp as razors.
The swords surrounded me. Must have been dozens of them. No. Hundreds.
They dove towards me, at the same time. Dove like eagles.

My pupils dilated. Time stopped. The moment remained frozen, as if suddenly I found myself in a living painting. The relentless passage of time had not really been suspended though. I lack that capacity.
It might as well have, though. In battle, shifts in the perception of time are a common occurrence. That moment had passed as soon as it came for anyone watching. But for me, days could pass. Years could pass. The blades coming at me from all directions moved as though swimming through syrup.

I calmly peered around. A wall of deadly weapons enclosed me. Not a single opening. Yet I remained calm. Somewhere, there must be a weak point.
I found it.
One of the purple swords stood out like a sore thumb. Its tip diverged from the path it traversed. Only ever so slightly.
That was it. My chance.

I closed my eyes. Then, visualized it; my one path to survival. How I would move. How the blades would move. Where they would be. Where I should be at that time.
The swords danced to the harmony of their own nature. It was by seeking that harmony that I could dance with them. Not by imposing my own.
I opened my eyes.
Time resumed.

The blades rained down like a storm. None pierced me. I knew where each blade would fall. I knew where I should not be. I evaded them deftly in a dance like the wind.
I could see none of them. They moved too fast. I also moved too fast. My vision narrowed into a blurry tunnel.
I did not intend to see them. My path had already been determined.
I focused on my heartbeat. On my breathing. Those worked independent of my perception. I could feel them always. They were the one reliable measure of time.
I could hear the barrage of swords crash around me. The sound came from I had been a one-hundred-and-twenty-eighth heartbeat ago. That noise parsed through my head as a ghost. The shadows of the past cannot stand in the way of my path.
I closed the distance to the targeted blade in an instance, meeting it with my shield. The purple blade did not pierce the shield, nor did it scatter. It collapsed on its surface. I grabbed hold of it with my free hand. It clashed with the sword behind it, sending it flying away. I moved past it, into the storm. My body twisted to fit in the spaces between the blades. I threw the sword in my hand. I heard it crash against the blade heading towards me. Before it could strike.

Everything appeared as a blur in my vision. Only occasionally did I get a glimpse of my environment. The swords that shot out and missed me protruded from the sand like tombstones. I left behind me a bleak yet serene graveyard. Yet I could register it for but a moment.
One of the energy blades zoomed towards me. I leaped over it, stepping on its flat to jump off it like a springboard. I leaped away from the next blade attempting to skewer me.
Like that I hoisted myself between blades. Akin to parkour. Meeting one soaring energy sword in the air, to jump to the next. I raised my shield, meeting another onslaught of weapons tossed at me. They shattered on impact. In a snapshot I saw the shards vanish in a cloud of purple smoke.

I was not waiting. I was not watching. I did not think through my moves when I made them. All my decisions had already been made.
The whining sound of the blades zooming past me. The crashing sound of them hitting the ground. That I heard, but was yet to be stabbed... That confirmed the path I envisioned was converging with reality.

I landed on the flat of a blade.
Time stopped once more. Between the swarms of energy swords, I spotted a new kind of attack. A wave of purple light spinning around in a circle. That was nothing like the numerous projectiles I had evaded. It did not move in a straight line.
The disk moved along a curved path difficult to predict. Difficult to dodge.
Moving left may not serve to escape its path.
Neither moving right.
I closed my eyes.

...My path was determined.
I opened my eyes once more.
Time resumed.

I fell from the sword on which I stood. The energy disk flew above me as it slipped by. I caught the sword from which I jumped, swinging under it. Swinging around it.
More of the blades swarmed towards me. I raised my shield. They shattered on impact.
Yet when I guarded myself from above, I failed to guard from below.
One energy blade struck me in the ankle. Warm blood spewed out. Trickling down my foot.
I hissed between clenched teeth. Yet I remained focused. My 99% evasion rate can only take me that far.

What is the difference between 'impossible' and 'very unlikely?'
If something is impossible, even after any number of attempts, it will remain impossible.
If something is very unlikely, with enough attempts, what is unlikely will become inevitable.

But if he thought this was enough...
He was sorely mistaken.

I launched myself from the blade. Soaring through the air, I acrobatically flipped to evade the incoming hail of weapons. I raised my shield. Blade after blade collided against it. Each one shattering on impact. Turning into a cloud of purple steam.
I emerged through the steam. On the other side of the storm. I landed in a sprint that bridged the gap between us. The moment my feet touched the sand, I clenched my fist. Wound it back.
I reached him in an instance. Breathed deeply. Turned my hips. The muscles in my arm relaxed. The muscles in my legs tightened.
I struck him.

My fist plunged into his chest. He did not react. Not even blink.
Humans forget all too easily, but the hand of a galmon is just as much a weapon as any sword or lance. My knuckles penetrated his torso with ease.
...Too much ease.

His innards were soft. Cool to the touch. Somehow his tissue tickled my skin with fluid writhing. Akin to currents in a river.
I looked down. Not a drop of blood on my arm. The opening I made resembled no wound. More like my hand was buried in his flesh.
I stepped back. Tugging my hand away.
It would not budge. The tissue around my knuckles stretched as I pulled. Like dough stuck to my hand. His clothes rippled like water.
He expanded. Contracted. Twisting in awkward ways. He soon could no longer be said to resemble anything remotely humanoid.
Because that was in fact not him. It was an amorphous gelatinous mass.

A slime.
My arm was stuck in slime.
A low burbling growl escaped the folds of the horse-sized lump before me.
The sun shimmered in its translucent membrane. It seemed to me a solid purple object refusing to fix itself to a singular shape.
Beautiful, like fluid glass.

I do not usually afford myself public displays of passion. However, in this case did I raise an eyebrow. I peered hauntingly around myself. As if seeking answers.

A spot of air to the right of me started shifting. A veil of emptiness lifted. With a dramatic flourish, Grand-Vizier Zig-Zag transformed the cloak of concealment into a black cape hanging off his shoulders.
My opponent. The real one. Not the mimicry he deceived me into attacking.

"Ah, so it turned out to be wise indeed not to test the power of your elusive defense," The satisfaction in his voice could be tasted, "Why worry on how to hit you with such an impermeable defense? If I can rely on you hitting me, turning that against you woulld be a frivolity."
"You tricked me..." Said I.
"But of course." He grinned madly, "The traits of a conqueror you may possess, 'Strongest One'. But to overcome a truly wilful opponent, it is necessary to know how to use them."

I struggled against the ooze binding my arm. But to no avail. My writhing served no purpose beyond spreading the slime across my skin. It sucked my arm in. I found myself up to the elbow in the goop. Then to the shoulder. It drew me ever further into itself. Resistance was futile. My shield slipped from my grip. It dropped to the sand with a resounding thump.

I struggled vainly against my impending fate. Soon my entire body was engulfed. Only my head stuck out.
He admired my predicament with a sadistic chuckle, "Oh, how very disappointing, hm? The Strongest Galmon falling for such an obvious ploy. Evidently not also the Smartest Galmon, is she?"

I could only scowl at him. Soon even my head sank inside. I took a deep breath. Then the slime devoured all of me.
I was trapped. Floating freely in the midst of the pet slime of this man.
Outmaneuvered.
Outwitted.
Bested.

I saw the sky beyond the purple sludge around me fill up with blades pointed at me from all directions. Just like before. Only now I remained suspended in place.
Time stopped.
I closed my eyes.
But I found no path.

Time resumed.
The blades shot out. I was pelted all over by razor sharp swords. They ran through the slime. Skewered my body.
My chest. My legs. My shoulder. My neck. No inch of my body was free from the searing pain.
Yet that was nothing compared to the shame I felt.
I opened my mouth to scream. Nothing was heard. Only a spray of bubbles escaped my mouth. They soon disappeared in the slime.
The blades turned into ethereal gas and vanished. The blood seeped out from my wounds. It pooed in the slime like floating red clouds.

I thrashed desperately about. My lungs screamed for air. Nothing I did so much as budged my prison.
I could not think. Felt nothing but fear.
Then felt nothing at all. My movements slowed down. Each spasm became harder to execute. Harder to justify.
I became still. Unmoving like a doll.
My eyes closed. Sealing away the last remnants of my blurry vision.
Then darkness...

...
...
...
...

Bubbles escaped my mouth.
I opened my eyes. My relentless thrashing resumed.
Perhaps there will be a time when I am bested. But that was not the time.
That was the time for fighting. I could not be satisfied knowing I had already reached my limit.
Yet for all my struggling, no punch or kick could release me from these confines.

I had ****.
I had to unearth the part of me I had kept hidden for so long. My dark side.
The side of me I had been struggling to contain all my life.
'That is not me! I do not do such things!' That was what I had told myself. I had to, in order to bear the shame of what I truly was.

And yet at that time, I found that was who I really needed to be.
If this man was to defeat me, he would need to beat all of me.
Even the part I have always been denying.

I will deny it no longer.
I let it go. I was becoming everything I hated.
I was no longer holding back.
I was...

I was...
I was...