Jamal felt it before he understood it.
The air shifted—subtle, like the pressure change before a storm. Whatever Ozzy and North were doing over there… it wasn’t training anymore. It was something sharper.
Jamal exhaled through his nose and looked away.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Whatever they on is way more intense than my session.”
His head still felt fuzzy. Like cotton packed behind his eyes. Being under the Story that long had done something to him—pulled thoughts out of order, mixed emotions. Even now, it felt like his mind lagged half a second behind his body.
“Hey, Jamal,” a voice called. “You there?”
He turned. Crisper stood a few steps away, rifle slung low, posture relaxed but alert. She gave him a small wave.
“You looked like you lost track of the situation,” she said. “And Ozzy seems pretty serious. Adapt or evolve… whatever he said. You better do it.”
Jamal sighed. “You ain’t nervous about all this?”
She shrugged. “It’s what I signed up for.”
“Oh. Right.”
She tilted her head. “Besides, it’s all a game but not a game but—”
“Yeah, I feel ya, blood,” Jamal said, rubbing his temples. “My head been all over the place. Shit… a lot. Hard to focus.”
Crisper studied him for a moment. “You and Destiny good?”
Jamal snapped his head up. “Blood, what?”
“Well, that could be a—”
“I ain’t mention shawty,” he cut in, a little sharper than he meant. “The Story kept— I don’t know—putting different things in my head. Made everything confusing. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with D’s stupid ass.”
Crisper didn’t push back. Just nodded. “I think it’s at least part of it.”
Jamal scoffed. “Ever think it’s also ‘cause I lost my grandma’s jewelry?”
“That shattered ages ago.”
“And?!” Jamal snapped, then deflated immediately. “The fuck… it was still important to me. Had it in my pocket when I died on Earth. Came here with me.”
He leaned back against a broken wall and sighed, long and tired. “Man… I’m exhausted.”
Crisper scratched the back of her neck. “I’m not good with this stuff. Sorry.”
Jamal looked at her. “Well…. You good, blood?”
She hesitated. “I’m… eh. Kinda just here honestly.”
“What?”
She gestured vaguely at the ruined town. “Everything turned into a shit show. So I’m just rolling now. Apparently we’re gonna fight the remaining faction. Like… a couple thousand to one?”
She gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. I’m enjoying life for the moment ‘cause I don’t know how we pull that off. Talk about a small raid team for an end-of-series boss battle.”
Jamal stared ahead. “You sayin’ we cooked?”
“If everyone doesn’t lock in,” Crisper said flatly, “and a random power-up doesn’t happen—yeah. Fucked up the ass.”
Jamal winced. “Damn.”
He looked around.
The town was wrecked—but not erased. A wide plaza sat nearby, half-collapsed buildings forming a rough perimeter. The stone street was cracked, sunken in places, scorched in others. Broken lamp posts leaned like tired spectators. Bits of debris littered the open space, but the ground itself was… flat enough.
An idea sparked.
Jamal pushed off the wall and walked toward the plaza.
He rolled his shoulders once, then clapped his hands together.
Ryun surged.
Cracks smoothed. Debris slid aside as if nudged by invisible hands. Lines etched themselves into the stone—rough at first, then cleaner. Two hoops formed at opposite ends, not metal but condensed motion aura, hovering and humming softly.
A court.
Not perfect.
But recognizable.
Crisper blinked. “Why are you doing this?”
Jamal breathed out, tension easing from his shoulders. “Helps me relax.”
He manifested the Soulball
“How are you even doing this?” Crisper asked, turning slowly as she took in the half-formed court—the etched lines, the hovering hoops, the way the air itself seemed to bounce.
Jamal rolled the Soulball across his palm and shrugged. “I don’t know… I just want things to happen, and they align, I guess.”
She frowned. “Is this different from the Land’s Herald fight?”
“The what, blood?”
“The black—” She stopped mid-sentence.
Her eyes went wide.
“Oh holy shit,” she whispered. “I think I know who the being in black is.”
Jamal’s stomach dropped. “That crazy bitch is back?!”
Crisper didn’t answer right away, which was answer enough.
“Shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Crisper said quickly. “Because—”
“I don’t know how to make that shit again!” he snapped. “I don’t even know how I did it the first time!”
“Geez, man!” Crisper threw her hands up. “You have made a lot of courts since then.” She gestured sharply at the space around them. “Just do this!”
“It’s not easy,” Jamal shot back. “I’m not a damn video game character—oh wait, that’s you, ugly ass.”
“What?!” she barked.
“You got shit easy,” Jamal continued, half defensive, half exhausted. “Personal touch-screen bullshit. I don’t got that. I just got… instinct, I guess.” He shrugged, suddenly smaller. “That’s it.”
Crisper exhaled hard.
He wasn’t wrong.
Her avatar body gave her built-in knowledge. Muscle memory imported straight from a game she’d already mastered. Jamal didn’t have that luxury—just intuition and whatever the Story hadn’t scrambled yet.
And if she was right about the being in black…
They didn’t have time.
“This isn’t gonna work,” she muttered. “Be right back.”
Jamal blinked. “Damn, blood, at least try to make a bucket or somethin’.”
“You stay there!” she shouted over her shoulder as she sprinted toward the house.
The court hummed softly behind her.
Jamal stood alone at center court, Soulball resting against his hip.
He looked down at the lines etched into the stone.
“…A bucket,” he muttered.
And the ball bounced—once—hard enough to crack the ground beneath his feet.
———
Crisper burst through the doorway hard enough to rattle the frame.
She crossed the room in three strides and skidded to a stop by the couch.
Destiny was kneeling, hands hovering just above S?urtinaui’s chest as soft golden aura flowed in controlled pulses, precise and careful. Tabia stood opposite her, Ryun coral encasing the elf’s body in a protective lattice, faintly glowing as it reinforced bone, muscle, and torn channels.
Crisper didn’t waste time.
“Is she stable?”
Both women nodded.
“Did North ask?”
“Nope,” Crisper said. “Last I saw, Ozzy was beating the shit outta him.”
“What?!” Destiny snapped her head up.
Tabia only smirked. “The Captain is doing as he must. You felt the shift in the air as well.” She glanced down at S?urtinaui. “North is fine.”
Crisper pointed at her. “I like her. Cute. To the point.”
“Everything you’re not at the moment,” Destiny said flatly, without looking away from her healing work.
“My heart,” Crisper snickered. Then her tone shifted. “Anyway. I got info—but we need her up. And Jamal needs you outside. Like… now.”
“Huh?” Destiny and Tabia said at the same time.
Crisper exhaled. “I’ll take over here.”
Destiny blinked. “You can aura heal?”
“Nope,” Crisper said calmly. “But I can Ryun heal. Like how I fixed you and Jamal earlier. Effects fade once the body stabilizes.” She looked at Tabia. “And mega hoping you can do aura healing…”
Tabia considered for half a second, then nodded. “Very well.”
Destiny rose slowly.
“…Why do I need to talk to Jamal right now?”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Crisper tilted her head. “Team synergy. Also, I don’t like you two fighting. It’s sad.” She shrugged. “And didn’t you want talk to him?”
Destiny scoffed softly. “Aren’t we diligent?”
Then she stopped.
“I know not what words I would bring forth,” she admitted, eyes drifting to the floor. “Nor how one returns from a misstep such as mine. I erred—not in malice, but in necessity—and now the path back feels… unclear.”
She exhaled.
“I have faced Rankers, battles, paradoxes,” she continued quietly, “yet this—this small human distance—unnerves me more than any blade.”
Crisper watched her for a moment, then smirked.
“Yeah,” she said. “That tracks.”
Destiny shot her a look.
Crisper gestured toward the door. “Go play ball, Princess. Before the world ends again.”
“That’s all?” Destiny asked, one brow lifting.
Crisper glanced over her shoulder while adjusting the Ryun scaffolds. “What else you want from me?”
Destiny smirked. “I guess I should face my problems head-on, huh.”
“Don’t tell me,” Crisper shot back. “Just go do it.”
Destiny blinked, then laughed softly. “Wow. Um. Okay… you okay?”
“I’m just itching to fight,” Crisper replied, way too casually.
Tabia let out a small laugh, the sound light despite everything.
Destiny looked between them. “What?”
Tabia waved it off. “Nothing. Time is of the essence. Go—play your game. Reconnect with your comrade.” Her crimson eyes softened. “Do not take the bond for granted.”
Destiny nodded once. “Okay. Don’t fuck up S?urtinaui.”
Crisper snickered. “You came out fine, right?”
“True,” Destiny said with a half-smile, then turned and walked out.
As the door closed, Tabia glanced at Crisper. “Was her cadence always like that?.”
Crisper chuckled, summoning invisible UI screens that unfolded in the air. She began pulling out medical tools—constructs of light and Ryun precision, already calibrating.
“I don’t care,” she said. “At this point she can talk like the Old Testament.”
Tabia smiled faintly.
“As long as everything works out,” Crisper added, eyes on S?urtinaui as the Ryun stabilized, “she can talk however she wants.”
———
Destiny didn’t hesitate long.
She knew where to go the moment she stepped outside, but instead of walking, she lifted off the ground—floating just high enough to skim broken stone and collapsed walls. Time mattered. And… she didn’t want to give herself space to overthink.
The court came into view.
Jamal was already there, standing at center, Soulball resting against his hip. He looked up as she landed across from him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The wind pushed dust across the etched lines of the court. The ruined town stood silent around them, like an audience that had already given up.
“So…” Destiny finally said.
“You know how to play, shawty?”
She snorted. “Course.”
He bounced the Soulball once, hard, then flicked it toward her.
“Check up, blood.”
She caught it easily.
“Jamal—”
“Check up, blood.”
She sighed, then rolled the ball back to him. “Fine. What’s the game?”
“One-on-one,” he said, already moving. “First to twenty-four. Ones and twos. Make it, you keep it.”
“Simple.”
Jamal added. “No crying when you lose.”
Destiny smirked. “Bold of you to assume I’ll lose…”
He checked the ball back to her.
The game started.
Destiny moved first. A quick step, a shift of weight, and she rose into a smooth jumper from deep. The ball arced, glowing faintly with Ryun.
Swish.
“Two,” Jamal muttered.
She didn’t celebrate. Just checked it back and moved again. A sudden drive, a fake that pulled Jamal half a step off balance—she stepped back behind the line and let it fly.
Swish.
“Four,” he said, shaking his head. “Aight.”
Jamal took possession this time. His stance changed—lower, looser. The court hummed as his Ryun synced with the space. A crossover blurred his outline for half a second, instinct doing what instinct did best.
He drove, spun, and laid it in off the rim.
“One.”
Destiny retrieved the ball, eyes sharp now. She stepped back behind the arc again, rose, and dropped another clean shot like gravity owed her a favor.
“Six.”
Jamal exhaled through his nose. “You ain’t fair.”
He took the check, dribbled once… twice… then pulled back farther than necessary—way behind the arc.
Destiny narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
Jamal grinned. “Watch me.”
He launched it.
The Soulball spun, humming as it cut through the air—
Clang.
Clang.
Swish.
He tapped his chest lightly. “Three.”
Destiny stared at the hoop for a second.
Then she laughed.
They kept playing.
Stone cracked underfoot, the Soulball thudding rhythmically against the ruined court, the sound oddly grounding in a place where everything else had gone wrong.
Destiny dribbled once, then twice, before speaking—
“…I’m sorry.”
Jamal didn’t look at her.
He cut past her shoulder, spun, and banked the shot in clean.
“Five,” he said flatly.
She squinted at him. “You hear me?”
No response.
He checked the ball back harder than necessary and dropped into stance again.
She caught it, bounced it once, then stopped.
“Alright,” Destiny said. “Let’s make it interesting.”
Jamal glanced up despite himself. “Oh?”
“If I win,” she said, meeting his eyes, “you have to talk to me. Really talk.”
He snorted. “And if I win?”
She hesitated for half a beat. “You decide what you want.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t got a want yet.”
She shrugged. “Then you’ll figure it out.”
Jamal stared at her for a moment longer than the game required. Then he rolled the ball back to her.
“Aight,” he said. “I’m down.”
He wasn’t serious before.
But the idea of her owing him something—anything—lit a fire in his chest he hadn’t felt since Ozzy had taken his ball and his pride in the same motion.
He dropped into a stance, eyes sharper now.
“Check up,” he said.
The pace changed immediately.
Jamal pushed harder—no hesitation now. His movements sharpened, Crossfade flickering at the edges of his steps as instinct took over. He drove past Destiny twice in a row, used the court like it was an extension of his body, and finished with a clean layup.
“Seven,” he said.
Destiny answered with a midrange jumper.
“Eight.”
Jamal didn’t slow. He baited her left, snapped right, and pulled up from deep.
Swish.
“Ten.”
The Soulball barely touched the net.
Destiny narrowed her eyes.
They traded buckets—hard drives, quick passes to empty space that didn’t exist a second earlier, shots that bent physics just enough to be unfair. Jamal surged ahead, rhythm locked in, the court responding to him like it wanted him to win.
“Sixteen,” he said after another clean finish, breathing a little heavier now.
Destiny wiped sweat from her brow.
Then she stopped smiling.
Something in her posture shifted. The golden aura around her tightened instead of flaring, condensed into precision instead of spectacle.
She checked the ball.
Dribble. Shoot.
“Eleven.”
Jamal frowned.
She stole the next possession—barely, just a fingertip redirect—and rose again before he could recover.
Another shot.
“Twelve.”
Jamal growled under his breath and drove hard, slamming in a contested layup.
“Eighteen.”
Destiny didn’t answer with words.
She answered with distance.
A pull-up from well beyond where she should have been comfortable.
Swish.
“Fourteen.”
The court hummed louder now, Ryun lines glowing faintly beneath their feet.
Jamal pushed, shot, missed—just barely.
Destiny caught the rebound, didn’t hesitate.
Another jump shot.
“Sixteen.”
The lead he created slowly grew smaller and smaller until she eclipsed him.
Jamal stared at her. “You serious right now?”
She shrugged lightly. “You wanted interesting.”
He dug deep, pulled out one last burst of instinct, and sank a desperate shot of his own.
“Twenty-one.”
Silence stretched between them.
Destiny took the check.
She rose, smooth and unshakable—
Swish.
“Twenty-three.”
Jamal lunged for the ball on the rebound, but Destiny was already moving. One clean dribble, a step past him, and a final shot that arced perfectly against the ruined sky.
The net snapped.
“Twenty-four.”
The court fell quiet.
Destiny exhaled slowly, hands on her knees.
Jamal stared at the hoop for a long second… then laughed, shaking his head.
“…Aight,” he said. “You got it.”
He looked back at her.
“Guess we gotta talk.” Laughing. “What the fuck can’t you do?” He muttered, hands on his hips, still catching his breath.
Destiny smiled, just a little. “Win a rap battle.”
He barked out a laugh. “Don’t try to butter me up, shawty.”
She didn’t push it. Just stood there while the moment settled, the court still humming softly beneath their feet, the ruined town holding its breath.
“Shit,” Jamal said after a second, inhaling deep. “That was a good game. I’m taller than you—I really thought I had that shit.” He shook his head, amused despite himself. “Blood, you somethin’ else.”
She nodded once. “You’re not bad yourself.”
Then, because she’d won and because this mattered more than pride, she walked to the center of the court and sat down, legs stretched out, hands braced behind her.
Jamal hesitated, then followed suit, dropping down across from her. He twirled one of his locs aimlessly, eyes drifting toward the broken skyline.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“I’m kinda surprised,” Destiny said finally, voice light but careful. “You’re being… cordial.”
Jamal snorted. “Yeah. Well. I’m goin’ through a lot.”
She huffed. “Who isn’t?”
He looked at her then. Really looked.
She felt it immediately.
“…Sorry,” she added, softer. “Right. This fantasy shit isn’t exactly your lane.”
Jamal leaned back on his palms. “Nah. I’m built for whatever.” Then he glanced at her sideways. “You won. So hurry up and talk. We wastin’ time.”
Destiny studied him for a second longer, golden eyes thoughtful.
“Okay,” she said. “Then I won’t dance around it.”
She shifted slightly, grounding herself against the court.
“I used you,” she said plainly. “To beat the Story.”
Jamal’s jaw tightened—but he didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted that weight,” she continued. “I just assumed you could carry it. That was wrong.”
Silence stretched again, heavier this time.
“I’m not apologizing because things went well,” she added. “I’m apologizing because I took your agency. And I shouldn’t have done that.”
Jamal stared at the ground between them, fingers tightening in his locs.
“…You know what fucked me up the most?” he said quietly.
Destiny didn’t answer. She waited.
“It wasn’t dyin’,” Jamal continued. “It wasn’t wakin’ up in this wild-ass place. It was feelin’ like my thoughts weren’t mine.” He swallowed. “Like somebody else was looking in me, movin’ me around, decidin’ what mattered. Dat Story was no joke.”
He glanced at her. “So yeah. I been mad.”
She nodded. “I would be too.”
Another beat.
“But,” Jamal sighed, “you came out here. You didn’t dodge it. You didn’t play queen about it.”
He shook his head slowly. “That counts.”
Destiny let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“I don’t expect forgiveness,” she said.
“Good,” Jamal replied. “’Cause I ain’t there yet.”
Then, after a pause, he added, “But we can keep playin’ on the same team.”
She smiled.
“Fair enough.”
The court hummed beneath them again.
Basketball at the end of the world.
“So,” Jamal said after a beat, spinning the Soulball lazily on one finger. “You did a thing and got stronger.”
Destiny shrugged, gaze drifting to the cracked skyline. “I guess. Then I got weaker. But I’m still good to go.”
He nodded. “I can tell. You and that North buhl squash ya beef?”
She smiled. “Yeah…”
“Oh,” Jamal said, deadpan. “Y’all fucked.”
Her face went red instantly. “What—how—”
“Your pants black,” he cut in, laughing. “You was definitely wearin’ shorts. And you calm as hell. That’s a successful dick appointment.”
“Shut UP!”
“I’m proud of you,” he said, wheezing. “Shit, I’m tryna crack some too, ya hear me.”
She shot him a look so flat it could sand wood.
“Not you or C, obviously,” he added quickly. “Y’all folks on some sister-type time.”
She laughed despite herself, shaking her head.
After a moment, she grew quieter. “Did the Story… do anything else to you?”
Jamal leaned back, eyes on the ruined court. “Showed me choices. The ones I coulda made.”
She nodded slowly. “In your rap… you said you ain’t proud of the blood. But it makes you complete.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I ain’t change ‘cause it was all I knew. And here? It kept me alive.” He paused. “But the other paths didn’t look bad.”
She waited.
“I had a chance once,” he continued. “To leave the hood. Didn’t take it.” A beat. “Died three years later.”
Destiny didn’t speak. She just sat with it.
“Nuff ‘bout me,” Jamal said, breaking the silence. He glanced at her, grin creeping back. “You cool though? Even after the successful dick appointment?”
She punched his shoulder.
He punched back.
They traded a few quick jabs, laughing until she finally threw her hands up. “Okay, okay—I concede.”
He grinned. “Needed that. One win today.”
She settled again, breath slowing. “Even though I Ascended… it’s not clarity. Not like I thought. I lost some abilities too.” She looked at her hands. “I feel more centered. Just… still figuring out what now.”
Jamal nodded, bouncing the ball once. “Yeah. Guess that’s the part nobody tells you.”
Yeah,” Destiny said quietly. “But the realms see me as a different person than Vari now. So… it’s a step in the right direction.”
Jamal bounced the Soulball once again. “I don’t know what the fuck you talkin’ about, but I never seen you as Vari.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Real shit,” he said. “Mostly ‘cause I don’t know who the fuck she is. And ‘cause you ain’t like her.”
“Well… not truly, but—”
“Nah,” Jamal cut in. “Ain’t no but. Sure, she’s your real-you or whatever.”
“I’m real,” Destiny said. “She was just here first.”
“Tomato tomato.”
“It’s really not—”
“Either way,” he smirked, “damn, bitch—”
She pointed at him. “That’s your last strike. Next time I’m takin’ that as fightin’ words.”
“My fault, D,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “Habit. No harm. But on a serious note—”
“That wasn’t serious?”
He ignored her. “You more like Wonder Woman, ya feel me. Always tryna help motherfuckers and shit when you coulda been some rich girl in the hills.”
Destiny’s heart kicked a little.
“But you chose this,” Jamal went on. “You can shoot, fight, and hoop. If I ain’t know all that godly bullshit, I’d think you was a shawt from the hood. Vari? She a bitch. Told us we can all die and fuck off. Nah—that ain’t thurl.”
Destiny looked away, thoughtful. “I guess. Where Vari’s a snake… I’m trying to be a dragon.”
Jamal burst out laughing. “That’s corny as hell.”
“It’s not funny!”
“It is,” he said, grinning. “You see a snake and try to one-up it.”
She froze.
“…Honestly,” Jamal added, “what was Wonder Woman?”
“An Amazon,” Destiny said slowly.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “You more like that.”
Before she could respond, Ozzy’s voice rang out across the street.
“Hey hey! Love and basketball—HOUSE MEETING!”
Destiny and Jamal looked over. North stood beside Ozzy, arms folded.
Jamal smirked. “Hope ya boyfriend don’t get jealous.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Destiny said as she stood. “And if he gets jealous, that’s on him.”
Then, softer, “I’m just glad we’re good.”
Jamal nodded. “Forsure. This helped.” He paused. “Still didn’t like bein’ used.”
“Won’t happen again.”
He smiled. “I know why. I get it. Still— I’m always savin’ ya bum-ass lives.”
They laughed as they headed toward the house.
“Yo, Ozzy,” Jamal called out, “what we even talkin’ about? Thought this was just training.”
Ozzy beamed like a kid with a secret. “Duh. We’re keepin’ that goin’. But North’s gotta go talk to Mi’Lentra.”
He spread his arms wide.
“And I figured—why not make it a field trip?”
“Field trip?” Destiny echoed.
“To the TOWERS!” Ozzy announced, practically vibrating with excitement.
