The tournament was over. The crowd had cheered, the banners had fallen, and William lay broken in the stitched hospital bed. His seams were torn, cotton spilling from wounds that refused to close. Jigoku had beaten him — not cruelly, but with soldier's precision. Every strike had been clean, every blow respectful. Still, William's body was wrecked.
Thimble sat at his side, spool clutched tight, refusing to leave. "You fought like Cedric," they whispered. "But you're still William. Don't forget that."
Before they could leave, the air trembled. The hospital windows shattered. The sky split open.
A figure descended — cloaked in runes, books floating around him like orbiting moons. Twelve angelic wings unfurled, each feather etched with glyphs. Black liquid streamed from his eyes, dripping into the air, twisting into branches of shadow that spread across the heavens. It was as if he cried forests of darkness.
His voice shook the world:
"Imperfect humans… I am the imperfect perfect human."
The crowd outside screamed. The books spun faster, pages tearing themselves into spells. The branches reached down, clawing at the city.
The door opened. Jigoku entered, calm as ever. "You fought well," he said simply. "But you need more than recovery. You need guidance."
Behind him came an elderly woman. Her hair was silver, her cloak etched with runes older than the Coliseum itself. Her eyes glowed faintly, and the air bent around her. Jigoku bowed. "This is my master. She is also Cedric's grandmother."
She approached William, placed her hand on his chest. His cotton glowed, seams tightened, pain faded. "You carry Cedric's name," she said softly. "Now you will carry his legacy."
William, Thimble, Jigoku, and the cloaked stranger from the Coliseum felt it at once. Not thought. Not choice. Instinct.
The narrator's voice cut through the chaos:
"In this world, the first checkpoint of power is Desire. When a soul burns with a need so strong, it unlocks what lies hidden — a primal force, raw and unstoppable."
Jigoku's arms burst into flame, but the fire flowed like water, wrapping into a demon's tail thrashing behind him. William's eye hardened into a button, and cotton surged into a towering giant, Seamcatcher gleaming in his hand. Thimble roared, needles fusing into a massive hammer, each swing echoing like thunder. The mystery man tore open two portals: one with a radiant arm of light, the other with a claw of darkness.
All four lunged at once, primal powers unleashed.
But before their strikes could land, the grandmother raised her hand. Gravity bent. The air thickened. William, Jigoku, and the cloaked stranger were crushed mid-motion, pinned by invisible weight. Only Thimble remained free — light as a needle, untouched by gravity's pull.
The imperfect perfect human turned his gaze on Thimble. Black branches wept from his eyes. His voice was calm, terrible:
"Something that needs to be cleansed."
He raised a hand. A beam tore through Thimble's chest — PURGE. Her body convulsed, then he hurled her broken form toward William.
William screamed, voice cracking:
"HEAL her! HEAL her!"
The words slowed, dragged by grief. "Why me…" he whispered, staring at the grandmother — only to see her head severed, rolling, lifeless.
Silence. Then Thimble, bloodied, smiled weakly. "Here. You'll need it." She pressed a black branch into William's hand. It fused to the left side of his skull, growing straight back like a horizontal horn. Roots twisted through his veins. He unlocked plant abilities — vines, growth, life itself.
Before he could act, the grandmother's body shimmered. Her head regenrated,eyes blazing
Before he could act, the grandmother's body shimmered. Her head regenerated, eyes blazing. "You younglings are too restless," she said, voice heavy with command. Gravity surged again, lifting William, Jigoku, and the mystery man into the sky, dragging them away from the battle.
The imperfect perfect human spread his twelve wings, books orbiting faster, branches writhing. His voice echoed like a tolling bell:
"Time is ticking."