Ultra City — 12:56 PM
Tak-tak-tak.
Jakson tapped his fingers rhythmically on the diner table. His gaze drifted to the window beside him, where the world outside bustled with life. Parents walked hand in hand with their children. A small boy pointed excitedly at a toy behind a store window, tugging on his dad's coat and begging for it. The scene pulled a soft smile from Jakson's lips.
"The beauty of this city," he murmured. "They've got their flaws, sure... but I gotta give them credit they know how to live in peace. Then again… we were the ones who brought that peace. Maybe I'll go ahead and feast on that little success."
He leaned back slightly and waved to the waitress.
She hurried over with a polite smile. "Yes, sir? Need anything else?"
"I'll take another plate of what I had earlier."
"Of course! But it'll take about ten minutes we've got a few orders ahead of yours. Hope you don't mind the wait," she replied.
"No rush," he said with a smirk. "But still… be quick."
She nodded and hurried off to the kitchen.
Jakson turned toward the small TV mounted in the corner of the room. A casual daytime show was playing until it suddenly cut out.
Grumbles filled the diner.
"Seriously? What could be so important they cut the show off?" a man complained from another booth.
"They better not come telling us the mayor just bought another yacht or I swear I'll torch the whole broadcast station," someone else snapped.
The screen flickered, and a stern-faced news anchor appeared.
"We apologize for the interruption. This is an emergency update. At this moment, chaos has erupted at 42nd Sector Street. Reports confirm that a man dressed in black is attacking civilians. He appears to be armed and extremely dangerous. We are hoping that the heroes of Ultra City will respond swiftly"
The footage shifted to raw street video.
Corpses scattered across the pavement. Pools of blood. A distant scream.
The entire diner went quiet frozen in disbelief.
Jakson's expression darkened. His jaw clenched. His smile had long vanished.
He grabbed World Cutter from where it leaned against the side of his booth, strapped it in place, and stormed out the door.
Within seconds, he was on his bike.
Vrrrrmmm.
Tires screeched.
And he was gone a blue blur tearing through the streets.
***
Ultra City — 1:07 PM
Blaze raced through a narrow alley on his bike, his focus razor-sharp. The moment he reached an opening, he hit the brakes, skidded to a stop, and leapt into the air.
As he soared upward, his casual outfit ignited in flames — burning away to reveal his dark-red supersuit beneath. The transformation was seamless, like it had been waiting all along.
Prepared. Always.
He soared forward.
Then his comm buzzed.
He tapped his earpiece. Timothy's voice came through.
"Jakson, have you heard?"
"Yes, Cap. I saw the broadcast. I'm already on my way."
"Good. The rest of us are moving in now."
"Got it. I'll do what I do best until you get here."
The call ended.
Blaze tightened his grip on the hilt of World Cutter strapped across his back and accelerated.
***
Meanwhile, on the blood-soaked street of 42nd Sector…
A small family trembled on the ground — a mother shielding her son, a father frozen in place. Above them stood Scythe, his obsidian weapon gleaming with fresh crimson.
"I didn't want to kill innocent people," he said, voice low and cold. "But I've been given a job… and I never back away from my work."
The family whimpered, their eyes wide with despair.
The scythe lifted.
But before it could strike—
CLANG!
A blinding flare of flame erupted as World Cutter intercepted the blow, knocking Scythe back slightly. Blaze stood in front of the family, sword drawn, face stern.
"So it was you… You're the one behind this mess," he said, eyes narrowed. "You're going to pay dearly for it."
Blaze shifted, motioning the family behind him.
"Go. Now."
They scrambled to their feet and ran.
As they passed, Blaze's eyes briefly met the little boy's — it was the same child from the diner window, the one who had pointed at the toy earlier that day.
Thank goodness I got here in time, he thought.
Scythe twirled his weapon, gray eyes fixated on Blaze.
"Well… One of you finally shows up. Let's see what you've got."
Blaze unsheathed World Cutter fully, flames swirling along its blade.
Their eyes locked.
A moment passed.
Then—
CLASH!
Steel met steel. Sparks flew.
The battle had begun.
Ultra City – 42nd Sector Street
1:11 PM
Blaze and Scythe stood motionless, both blades gleaming beneath the sunlight. The broken street around them whispered of chaos—glass scattered, buildings cracked, and the stench of scorched metal still lingered from Scythe's earlier strike.
Then—
Clang!
Their weapons collided again. Sparks exploded as World Cutter met the jagged edge of Scythe's obsidian blade.
Scythe twirled his weapon with eerie precision, the curved blade swinging in a low arc aimed at Blaze's knees.
Blaze leapt backward, flipped mid-air, and landed with a skid. His eyes narrowed.
"Not bad."
He lunged forward.
Their blades danced in a flurry of steel.
CLANG–CLANG–CLANG!
Scythe twisted with surprising agility, his scythe whistling through the air in wide, calculated sweeps. Blaze ducked beneath a high slash, spun, and brought World Cutter upward in a rising arc—shink!—scraping along the shaft of the scythe.
"Your sword sings," Scythe said flatly, parrying with a full-body turn, "but mine screams louder."
He stomped the ground, releasing a shockwave that threw Blaze off balance. In that moment, Scythe lunged with his scythe reversed, trying to hook Blaze's back.
But Blaze was faster.
He planted World Cutter into the ground, pivoted around it, and used the momentum to launch himself at Scythe's chest.
CLANG!
The force of the strike knocked Scythe backward a few feet, his boots sliding through debris.
"Not bad yourself," Blaze muttered.
Scythe crouched low and suddenly launched a storm of slashes, his scythe a blur of black metal. Blaze blocked each one, the clash ringing across the empty street.
Clang. Parry. Deflect. Riposte.
They weren't just fighting. They were reading each other—testing, pushing, adapting.
Blaze stepped forward and went into a flurry of his own. His strikes came fast—jab, spin, uppercut, horizontal slash—each one backed by the heat of his fire, sparks trailing in the air with every swing.
Scythe dodged one, then two—but the third strike grazed his cloak, slicing it open.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he twirled the scythe once and drove the blunt end toward Blaze's ribs.
THUD!
Blaze staggered.
Scythe followed up with a low slash—aimed to disarm.
But Blaze dropped to a knee, blocked it from below, then swept his leg around, tripping Scythe partially off balance.
He sprang to his feet and uppercut World Cutter straight at Scythe's exposed chest.
CLANG!!
Scythe crossed his weapon just in time—but the force sent him flying backward, crashing through a car.
Smoke billowed.
Blaze took a breath, gripping World Cutter tighter.
From the smoke, Scythe walked out slowly, cloak torn, blood dripping slightly from a cut near his eye—but his gaze was calm.
"You fight like you've got something to protect," he said, spinning his weapon. "That's your weakness."
"No," Blaze replied, stepping forward. "It's my fire."
With that, World Cutter ignited, flames wrapping around the blade.
Blaze charged.
So did Scythe.
Their blades met in the center of the street with a resounding explosion of sparks and fire, the air warping around them as their duel escalated—
Each strike sharper.
Each dodge closer.
Each clash louder.
This wasn't just a battle.
It was war by steel.
***
1:22 PM
The fight raged on—clashes echoing through the street, sparks lighting the air, heat rising from every swing of World Cutter.
But suddenly—
WHAM!
A white blur zipped across the battlefield, and a clean punch landed straight into Scythe's jaw, sending him crashing into a street pole. Smoke erupted from his body like an explosion of shadow.
Scythe slowly rose, eyes narrowing beneath his silver bangs. His voice was cold.
"I thought we wouldn't be interrupted... but it seems not. We'll meet again, Blaze. I've done enough for today."
He snapped his fingers.
The smoke thickened. And within seconds—he was gone.
The streets fell silent again.
Standing across from Blaze was a figure in white and silver lightning gear—Maximus Alle. Super Bolt.
"You had to show up now, didn't ya?" Jakson said with a half-annoyed, half-relieved voice.
Max smirked. "Shut up. What do you make of him?"
Jakson's expression turned serious, the fire on World Cutter dimming as he sheathed it.
"Let's get to the base first. I'll say everything there. The others shouldn't bother coming—he's already gone."
Max nodded.
The Superbolt dashed and Blaze leapt into the sky and vanished from the streets, heading back to the Fortress.
***
1:36 PM – Unknown Location
A dark, candlelit room.
Scythe stood in the center, arms crossed, his cloak ragged from battle. Opposite him were two shadowy figures—a woman and a man, both draped in subtle armor that gave off an unnatural aura.
"It was only one of them I battled," Scythe said plainly. "But I'll admit… he was strong. For someone new."
The man asked, "Who?"
"The one with the sword."
The woman leaned forward slightly, her voice airy and strange—almost echoing as if layered with another tone.
"Ooooh... that one again. He keeps piquing my interest more and more." She giggled faintly. "I can't wait to meet him."
"You know," the man said, his voice sharp, "That was just one. The others are coming. You'll be facing all of them soon."
Scythe didn't blink.
"I know. I'll be ready. The job's not finished."
The man gave a slight nod.
"Good."
Without another word, Scythe turned, cloak swirling behind him, and walked out of the room—already planning his next strike.