From his perch atop the archway, Gwil eyed the upper reaches of the atrium. Challe still hung in the air, wreathed in swirling storm clouds. Webs of green lightning crackled across the churning surface of the cocoon. So cool!

  “Just give me the ketchup, you bastard,” Tezca shouted. “You have no idea the miracles I would cultivate with such a flavor.”

  “No,” Gwil said, turning around. “You’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you could taste the ztuff again, but you’ll never get to. Er, but you’re gonna die soon anyway, so never mind.”

  Gwil jumped down and shrank before hitting the floor. He was bigger than a mouse, closer to rat sized.

  “Impervious Jello Technique!” Tezca yelled. He flopped down nowhere near where Gwil was or might have been.

  Gwil shook his head and then snuck behind a planter positioned behind Legs, who was again standing on his hands. The man rotated in place, his upside-down head on a swivel as he performed a complicated kicking routine.

  Did this guy not understand that Gwil could shrink? His handstand method not only left his face vulnerable but placed it at the ideal level for Gwil to attack.

  Stifling a laugh, Gwil crept out. Tezca was just rolling around on the floor. These guys were buffoons.

  He was so spoiled for choice, the hardest part was deciding what he would do. Gwil positioned himself between Legs’s floor-smacking hands, waiting for him to turn around. He wanted to come up with something interesting.

  So when Legs suddenly turned around to face him, Gwil panicked. He held out his arms as if giving someone a hug, and then plunged them into both corners of Legs’s left eye, wrapping his arms fully around the eyeball.

  The man screamed as Gwil pulled. Incredibly, Legs maintained his balance. The eye cords were stronger than Gwil would’ve guessed. He had to plant his foot on Legs’s forehead and push off with Nirva to rip it out.

  Gross red tendrils trailing like streamers, Gwil hurled the eyeball at Tezca and then pop, grew back to size. Legs’s arms had given out, since he needed to clutch at his face with both hands. He lay there flailing, his metal clogs smashing divots into the floor.

  Gwil caught one of the man’s feet and slipped off the metal shoe. His own boot was still missing, and he’d never seen fully metal shoes before, but they seemed useful. He placed the clog on the ground and stuck his bare foot inside.

  “Woah, what size shoe do you wear?” Gwil wouldn’t be able to take a single step wearing this cavernous thing. He kicked it off his foot, flinging it away.

  Legs didn’t answer his question, so Gwil flared his Nirva, picked the man up, and tossed him over the railing, down to the atrium’s bottom level. He’d deal with him later.

  Gwil turned on Tezca, who was on his knees, looking down at the torn-out eyeball he held in his cupped hands.

  “What is wrong with you?” the immense man sobbed. “You monster. This disgusting violence. What did Legs ever do to you?”

  “Nothing,” Gwil said, approaching. “He got hurt because of you.”

  “This is exactly why I hid from the World! All of you are sick. You might be humans, but you sure act like demons.”

  Gwil came to stand face to face with Tezca, but the man gave no acknowledgement. He just continued blubbering at the eyeball.

  “I never even killed that many slaves—I mean servants. Sorry, that was uncouth. But statistically speaking, all the sacrifices are barely a blip.”

  “Don’t use numbers to count lives,” Gwil said.

  “What? What should I use then?”

  Gwil surged his Nirva into his fist, letting it build and build, then he smashed the underside of Tezca’s jaw with a crushing uppercut.

  Tezca didn’t seem to notice. His face jiggled at the impact, jowls swinging like the pendulum in a clock.

  Huh. That was just about the hardest punch Gwil could throw.

  He hit him again, this time square on the cheekbone.

  “I kept them safe! The Gracestorm kept them safe, far safer than they’d have been outside in this ruined World. If not for me, half of their ancestors would’ve died centuries ago. The Apocalypse… Utter annihilation would’ve been a gentler fate, but they want us to suffer!”

  As Tezca spoke, Gwil delivered a brutal beating. Nirva vapor streaming from his body, his fists a relentless flurry, he barraged Tezca in the face, the neck, the knees, even moving to his backside to strike the man’s spine. Nothing.

  He took a torch from its wall-mounted sconce and smashed Tezca with it and then shoved it into his flesh until it burnt out. Nothing.

  Gwil made a claw of his hand and rammed his knuckles directly into the Warden’s temple.

  “Leathery Steak Technique,” Tezca said while wiping snot from his nose with his hand.

  “Don’t act like you’re a good person,” Gwil yelled. “You lied to everyone and turned them into prisoners. And you say it’s okay because you’re scared?”

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  “Of course not,” Tezca said, a wawa effect to his words as Gwil punched him in the mouth. “That’s just how I justify it.”

  “You stole their lives! I’m gonna make you tell them the truth.”

  Tezca threw the eyeball away and looked up, his prominent brow darkening his face.

  “You think you’re in control here? You misunderstand. A King is coming, a man who I would not dare challenge. He will crack you like an egg. He will exact revenge on the Malikauans. I am going to escape. If you truly care for their lives, letting me take them away is your only option.”

  “I’ll just fight him too,” Gwil said. “I won’t stop until these people get the chance to see the real World.”

  “You’ll stop now,” Tezca said. “Pork Shank Technique!”

  Tezca’s open-palm thrust drilled Gwil in the sternum, blasting him off his feet and sending him flipping backward through the air.

  Gwil reinforced his spine and his skull just before he slammed into a stone column. The pillar cracked in half at the impact, and Gwil had to roll out of the way as the upper half toppled.

  He popped right up. That hit cleared his head like a bucketful of freezing water. He stretched his arms over his head and bent backward, cracking a few vertebrae back into place.

  Gwil grinned. Here we go.

  He took a deep breath, calling rivers of burning Nirva into his veins, and then sprinted at Tezca, who had finally deigned to stand up. Gwil jumped, shrank, and then flipped upside down as he ascended. Pop. He grew back just as his feet grazed the ceiling and launched himself straight downward.

  Elbows folded over his head, Gwil speared into the top of the Warden’s skull. He dodged Tezca’s follow-up grab by rolling between his legs instead of away.

  As he passed through, Gwil tried to kick out Tezca’s ankles, but the man’s stance was sturdier than the pillar Gwil had just broken.

  Gwil ran a couple steps up the wall and then shrank as he kicked off from it. He grabbed Tezca by the lip as he soared past his face and held on tight. Pop—he embiggened, clinging to Tezca’s bottom lip and using it like a rope swing.

  “Cannibal Chomp Technique!”

  In that moment, Gwil had time to think about how he should have known to treat Tezca’s mouth with more respect.

  His thumb and his first two fingers were cleanly bitten off, and Gwil went tumbling into a hallway.

  Tezca waddled over to stand in front of the entrance—he would not be able to fit inside without squeezing. The man licked his bloody lips. “Mm, is that ketchup the only thing you eat?”

  Blood streaming from his hand, Gwil took a few steps back and then charged. Pop, pop, pop, pop. He ping-ponged from wall-to-wall, shrinking and growing, building up as much speed as he could.

  Tezca turned himself to the side with a surprisingly agile pivot. “Chopped Liver Technique!” As Gwil missiled past, Tezca caught him in the chest with a devastating upward chop.

  Gwil’s momentum nearly carried him over the edge of the balcony, but he hit the railing and then crumpled to the floor. One of his ribs was sticking out of his armpit. He ripped it out rather than trying to stick it back into place.

  Pain overpowered the searing ball of Nirva in his stomach, and Gwil realized he might not have put his organs back together as well as he thought. He drummed on his stomach, and his innards felt like mashed potatoes.

  Tezca approached and Gwil readied to pull himself over the railing and roll over the side to get away.

  Dammit. He had hit Tezca as hard as he could so many times, and the man hadn’t even flinched. I need a weapon.

  “Wake up, Claws,” Tezca said. It turned out he wasn’t coming for Gwil. Instead, he knelt beside his clone. “Have some of this.”

  Shit. They were doing something weird. Gwil tried to get up, but that wasn’t gonna happen yet.

  Pop. He shrank and was devoured by the swelling inferno within his body. But he hadn’t even gotten that small. Baby-sized.

  Gwil focused on his breathing, trying to stoke the Nirva as it blazed through his worst injuries.

  Tezca’s hand glowed pearl white as he held it to Claws’s forehead. An ethereal mist hung around them, glistening. Nirva.

  “I forgive you, Claws,” Tezca said.

  Gwil gaped as Claws’s crumpled skull reshaped itself. The end of his nose reformed, too.

  “Self? What is this? You fixed my brain. I feel… You’ve never given me anywhere near this much! I feel so strong.”

  “I need you, Claws. You are the warrior in me. This is war.”

  Claws stood up and began scraping his claws against each other as if sharpening them, his gaze fixed on Gwil. The man dashed forward, moving in his low prowl. Gwil scrambled to get up on his knees and throw himself out of the way.

  “You’re doomed now,” Claws growled as he stabbed the pool of blood Gwil had left behind.

  Using the wall for help—legs shaking, insides sloshing—he stood. He grew back to size and said, “Nah, this is fine. You needed the help.”

  Claws barreled at Gwil, snarling, running on all fours. Just as the man lunged, Gwil bent low and grabbed both claws, then kneed the man in the face.

  The maneuver cost him a couple of fingers from his left hand. The right one was still all mangled, so that didn’t matter much. He’d caught the blades in the gaps between his finger bones.

  “Nice, your face didn’t get smashed by one hit,” Gwil said while skirting away. He held up his hands and directed his Nirva into them, causing sharp stabs of agony in his guts. But it was worth it to see Claws’s face as Gwil grew his fingers back. The dripping blood trickled and then stopped.

  Pop. Gwil shrank and luckily became very small this time. He ran behind the rubble of the broken pillar.

  “Don’t let him goad you, Claws,” Tezca said, chortling.

  Gwil leaned against something, clutching at his stomach as he searched for a weapon. All he could find were blunt objects, though—bricks and flowerpots. He needed something that could pierce Tezca’s stalwart flab. Something—

  Pop.

  Gwil grew back to size and ran between Tezca and Claws, slapping them both across their faces as he dashed past. The duo attacked. With all three of them moving in a tangle, Gwil focused on dodging and setting a lure.

  “Impervious Jello Technique!”

  Gwil dove out of the way and then doubled back and jumped off Tezca like a trampoline. He had to shrink as he landed to avoid Claws’s attempts to slice him out of the air.

  The clone was much improved by whatever Tezca had done to him. Faster, stronger, more sure-footed.

  Gwil threw a punch and at the same time allowed Claws to slash his bicep. Gotta get him confident.

  He continued dancing around, shrinking and jumping while Claws chased him like a cat playing with a toy. The man was grunting and growling, getting frustrated and wilder.

  Gwil shrank and grabbed the hem of Claws’s robes. He began running in a circle around his legs, wrapping him up in silk. Claws roared and slashed at the fabric.

  Pop. Gwil embiggened behind him, punched him in the back of the head, and then shrank as Claws whipped around in a wide slash. Pop. The other behind him. Pop.

  Claws pounced forward, thrusting with both sets of claws as Gwil shrank out of the way. Big droplets of blood splashed down where Gwil stood.

  “Gah! You might’ve pierced my stomach, you dumb piece of shit. I could lose my meal.”

  In missing Gwil, Claws had plunged all six of his claws into the prominent flank of Tezca’s tremendous belly. The blades were buried knuckle deep.

  “Gods, rip them out, you imbecile!”

  “Self, they’re stuck!”

  Gwil was laughing at them when he again felt a change in the storm’s essence. He didn’t need to look. He just ran to the edge and dove off the balcony, reaching out with his hands.