As they drove eastward, the world seemed emptied of life. No voices, no movement—only the remains of a ruined city stretching endlessly ahead, buildings reduced to fractured skeletons and drifting dust. The buggy rolled through the silence, its hum sounding almost intrusive against the dead air.
Then it came.
A cry for help.
Diego reacted instantly, bringing the buggy to a halt. The sound echoed faintly, thin and desperate, carried by the wind. All of them listened closely, searching for its origin.
Diego: It came from the south.
He broke into a run, the others close behind. After only a few meters, the source revealed itself: a large circus tent, standing alone amid the ruins like something that did not belong.
Could this be a trap?
The thought crossed all of their minds.
But when the scream rang out again—raw, fearful, unmistakably human—they had no choice but to act.
Kael raised a hand, stopping them just before the entrance. His gaze hardened as he made his decision.
Kael: Charlie. Michael. Stay here. Diego, Leona—you're with me.
Charlie: Why us? Both of us are stronger than you three.
Kael: I know. That's exactly why I need you here. Someone has to watch our backs. And the three of us are more than capable of handling what's inside.
There was no arrogance in his voice—only certainty.
Diego: Don't worry, we'll come back.
Without further argument, they accepted the plan. Charlie and Michael remained by the buggy, alert and ready, while Kael, Diego, and Leona moved toward the tent. Each step forward was measured, cautious, as they slipped inside the fabric walls, senses sharpened for danger.
Outside, the silence returned.
Michael exhaled slowly, then spoke without looking at Charlie.
Michael: We still haven't told Kael, about what happened.
Charlie: Told him what?
Michael hesitated for a moment longer than necessary.
Michael: He killed one of the Dark Knight.
The words hit her harder than any blow. Charlie froze, her eyes widening.
Charlie: …What?! How? He wouldn't—he wouldn't do that intentionally. Right?
Michael began to explain what had happened at the resort.
Upon entering the tent, they were met with a sight that made them freeze—a Dark Knight stood at the center, holding a doll in his grasp. The doll was speaking. Its voice trembled, pleading for help, sounding disturbingly human.
DarkKnight: I was waiting for your arrival.
Kael stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the figure.
Kael: Where is the hostage you're holding?
Dark Knight: Hostage? You mean them?
As the lights inside the tent flared to life, the truth was revealed. More dolls appeared—male and female—scattered across the space. One by one, they began begging Kael and the others to save them.
Leona: They… they can't be—
Leona gasped, the realization striking her all at once.
The dolls were living people.
The Dark Knight let out a small chuckle.
Tyler: The name's Tyler. Or you could call me Wonderwall. If you want these people released, you'll have to beat me in a game.
Kael: And what makes you think we'll play along?
Tyler: Look at your left wrist.
They did—and saw a single word glowing faintly on their skin.
PLAYER.
Tyler: You were already forced to participate the moment you entered this tent, you're not allowed to leave until you win. But understand this—every game comes with a cost. You may demand any condition you want, but it must carry an equal price. And no, this isn't my ability. This tent itself is JailhouseRock. No one outside can hear you, and you can't destroy this place.
He paused deliberately.
Tyler: Time also flows differently. One minute in here is equivalent to one second outside.
Silence settled over the tent.
Tyler: So, who wants to go first?
Leona: You do realize this is a trap, right?
Kael: Yeah. But we don't have any other choice. On top of that, we still don't know what his ability actually is.
A bored sigh echoed through the tent.
Tyler: Ugh… this is getting dull. If you don't hurry up, this lady here is going to get pricked.
As he spoke, he drove the object forward, piercing the female doll directly through the chest.
A scream tore through the tent—raw, agonized, unmistakably human.
Leona: Okay—okay! I'll play!
Leona said hastily, stepping forward.
Kael: What are you doing? Don't make irrational decisions.
Leona: I know. But it's our duty to ensure the safety of our people. Even if I lose… you can defeat him afterward.
From somewhere in the distance, Tyler's voice drifted back.
Tyler: Hello? I'm still waiting here…
Kael exhaled slowly.
Kael: Alright. But keep your guard up.
Leona nodded and moved forward to fulfill her role.
Leona and Tyler stood at the center of the tent.
Then, Jailhouse Rock spoke.
Jailhouse Rock: A coin will be flipped. Player One—Guardia. Head or tail?
Leona: Tail.
Jailhouse Rock: Player One—Guardia, tail. Player Two—Wonderwall, head.
The coin was flipped.
It landed on tail.
Jailhouse Rock: Player One, what game do you choose to play?
Leona: Surface Tension.
Leona replied without hesitation.
Jailhouse Rock: Conditions?
Leona: Two. First—only a small metal paperclip may be used. Second—all souls trapped within those dolls must be freed.
A brief pause followed.
Jailhouse Rock: Conditions? Player Two.
Tyler: Two. First—instant elimination if cheating is detected. Second, I'll take her soul.
Jailhouse Rock: Conditions confirmed.
The lights went out without warning.
When they returned, Leona and Tyler were already seated, each bound to a separate chair before identical tables. Resting on each table was a disposable plastic cup filled to the very brim with water—so full it seemed ready to spill at the slightest disturbance. Beside it sat a box containing countless small metal paperclips.
The rules were simple.
They had to drop more paperclips into the cup than their opponent. If the water spilled, they lost.
Both began at once.
Thirty.
Fifty.
Eighty-five.
One hundred.
The tension mounted with every addition, the cup rising imperceptibly higher, trembling with each metallic drop. The battle intensified, the paperclips piling in—each one a gamble, each one a test of nerve.
At last, they neared the end.
Leona stopped at the one hundred and forty-ninth paperclip. It was now Tyler's turn.
Unfazed, Tyler smiled broadly. Without hesitation, he dropped in five paperclips at once.
One hundred and fifty-four.
Leona's breath caught.
His confidence was unsettling—unnatural. Now it was her turn.
She placed five paperclips into the cup. Only one more was needed to reach one hundred and fifty-five.
But as she looked up, Tyler was grinning.
There was no fear in his eyes. No doubt.
Leona's hands began to tremble. Her thoughts spiraled, fixated on a single question—could the cup hold one more?
She tried to steady herself, lowering the paperclip with care, but fear crept in, freezing her at the edge of decision.
From behind her, Kael and Diego urged her on, refusing to accept defeat.
Their voices never reached her.
At last, something stirred.
Her soul slipped free from its vessel.
And in that hollowed moment, Leona released the one hundred and fifty-fifth paperclip into the cup.
The water spilled over the rimLeona's soul slipped into her own doll, and in that instant, the doll came alive.
Hehehe… one down. Just a little more to go, Tyler thought to himself.
Diego: This bastard. Fine. I'll be your next opponent.
Tyler: Good.
Kael: What are you doing, Diego? You saw what happened to Leona. Don't be like her.
Diego didn't look back.
Diego: Hiding won't bring victory, and I won't abandon my friend.
With that, he stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Tyler.
Thisisbad, Kael thought. Diego doesn't know what he's walking into. On top of that, we still don't know what Wonderwall's true ability is. I need answers—soon.
Once again, a coin was prepared.
Diego chose heads. Tyler chose tails.
The coin landed on tails.
Tyler: It might be my lucky day. But to keep things fair… why don't we play something you're good at, Kronos? I choose archery.
The mockery was unmistakable.
For the conditions, Diego demanded only one—to free all the trapped souls. Tyler, in turn, restated the same two conditions as before.
The lights went out once more.
When they returned, the two stood in separate positions, facing a wooden target that now stood between them. The rules were simple: one of them had to score higher.
If their scores were tied, the target would be moved farther and farther away, each round growing more punishing than the last.Since both were seasoned combatants, the duel began at a distance of fifty meters. Diego used his own bow, familiar and honed through countless battles, while Tyler was handed an ordinary one.
Kael watched in silence, his gaze sharp and calculating. Ineed to understand his ability before another soul is lost.
Both archers drew.
Both released.
Their arrows struck dead center.
The target moved farther—one hundred meters.
Again, both arrows found the mark.
Two hundred meters. Three hundred. Four hundred.
Neither missed.
But when the distance stretched to five hundred meters, the feat bordered on the impossible for an ordinary human. Even Diego's arrow wavered, grazing mere centimeters from the center.
Tyler, however, struck it cleanly.
How did he do that? Kael thought. Even Diego—whose precision borders on perfection—nearly missed. I'm close. I can feel it.
The target was pushed back again.
Six hundred meters.
Diego steadied himself, pouring everything into the shot. His arrow landed true—but only enough to score a nine.
Tyler: Is that the best you can do? Ha. Watch and learn, kid.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a strip of cloth, and blindfolded himself.
Kael's eyes widened. Diego froze.
Tyler tilted his bow slightly upward, loosed the arrow—
—and struck the center.
Perfectly.
Logically, impossibly.
Now Kael understood.
The exact amount. The precise center. Even without sight. His thoughts snapped into clarity. His ability… is knowing the best move.
As Diego's soul began to surface, Michael stepped forward and watched as Diego's soul was drawn into the doll.
Michael: The hell are you doing, you bastard?!
He roared, lunging toward Tyler.
Kael caught him by the arm and pulled him back, quickly explaining what had transpired. The pieces fell into place almost immediately. Michael understood. If Kael stepped into the game, he would lose. Their only remaining chance lay with him.
Michael: Alright, I'll take you on, Wonderwall.
Kael already knew. It had to be Michael.
Tyler accepted the challenge without hesitation, and the two stepped toward the center. Michael chose heads. Tyler took tails.
The coin was flipped.
Heads.
Michael: Football penalty.
Tyler: Are you sure? This might not be your first game… but it could be your last.
Michael: Mark my words. If I win, I'm going to beat the living shit out of you.
Jailhouse Rock asked for the conditions.
Michael named only one: if he won, every trapped soul would be freed.
Tyler tilted his head, amused. This time, he added conditions of his own.
Tyler: First—both players were allowed to use their special abilities, but their physical capabilities would be reduced to normal human levels. Second—if Michael lost, Tyler would take his soul.
Once the conditions were confirmed, the lights cut out.
When they returned, the ground beneath them had transformed into a football field. Both stood dressed in full jerseys, the world reshaped to suit the game.
Michael felt it immediately—his strength, speed, and endurance stripped down to that of an ordinary human.
But his strings remained.
A football penalty shootout was chosen to determine the winner. In this game, both Michael and Tyler would alternate between taking penalties and defending the goal as goalkeeper. It was not merely a test of shooting accuracy, but a duel of endurance and composure—each participant required to excel at both scoring and saving in order to claim victory.
Each was granted five penalty kicks and five chances to defend the goal, making a total of ten shootouts per player. If one gained an insurmountable lead—where the other no longer had any possible path to victory—the match would end immediately, and the loser would be decided.
The first penalty was Michael's.
Tyler stood in goal, still wearing that infuriating grin. Michael ignored it and struck the ball toward the high left corner—but Tyler saved it with ease.
Now it was Michael's turn to defend.
Tyler approached the ball with the same unshaken confidence and sent his shot toward mid-left. Michael reacted instantly, diving for the save—but the ball was placed too precisely along the edge. He knew he wouldn't reach it in time.
So he resorted to CordBreaker.
Michael extended his arm, his string snapping outward as he attempted to deflect the ball. He made contact—just enough to alter its path—but the angle was perfect. The ball slipped past him and into the goal even after the deflection.
Tyler had scored the first point.
Damnit, Kael thought grimly. At this rate, Michael is going to lose. How are we supposed to win against someone who literally knows everything?
It was Michael's turn once again.
Tyler's voice followed, calm and confident, as if the outcome had already been decided.
Tyler: Surrender before you humiliate yourself.
Michael remained unmoved.
Michael: Don't get ahead of yourself, you've only scored one goal. And don't forget my promise.
This time, Michael positioned himself slightly farther back.
So he's trying to increase his output, Tyler thought. Tsk.
But to everyone's shock, Michael suddenly unraveled his right leg—extending it farther than before the kick—and released an overwhelming surge of strength and speed. The ball exploded forward, faster and heavier than before.
Tyler, however, showed no sign of panic.
Tyler: He increased his leg's length to amplify the output? Clever. But doing something like that won't work. I already know the optimal move—and I will never lose.
He caught the ball cleanly.
Kael: I–Impossible! Even after increasing the output, he still caught it? Is he… invincible?
Kael already knew the answer frightened him. There was so little they could do against Tyler.
Now it was Michael's turn to defend the goal.
Before Tyler struck the ball, Michael unraveled his arms and parts of his body, anchoring them around the goalposts. He sealed off every possible angle—but in doing so, he sacrificed his mobility entirely.
Tyler: Clever. Blocking every corner while surrendering your ability to move. I'll admit, that's impressive.
A pause.
Tyler: But it won't matter—because—
Tyler kicked.
The ball tore through.and secured another goal.
Tyler: —I already know where to target.
Kael stood frozen.
Kael: I–I can't believe it. The way I saw it, the ball slipped straight through the gap between Michael's strings. If this keeps going… Michael will surely lose.
The score was now 2–0.
If Tyler scored once more, a comeback would border on the impossible.
Tyler continued spewing taunts and mockery, but Michael ignored him. Instead, he calmly removed his jacket, shook it twice, and set it aside.
Tyler: Hm? What are you trying to do? Intimidation?
Michael: Nope, I just finished warming up.
That answer unsettled Tyler.
What did he just say? Finished warming up?
Does he intend to pull some kind of trick?
Michael took his shot—aiming at the exact same spot as before.
Whatever, Tyler thought. It doesn't matter where he shoots. My ability will never fail me.
He moved to block.
But just before the ball reached Tyler's hands, it abruptly changed course—dropping downward at the last possible moment, slipping past him before he could react.
Goal.
Tyler: I—I can't—Impossible! How did the ball—? What's happening? Did he use his strings? No—if he had, I would've seen it. Then how?
Confusion fractured his certainty.
Even if you know the optimal move, Michael thought, you still can't predict the future, can you?From this moment on… victory is on my side.
Now it was Tyler's turn to kick.
But he remained momentarily dazed—his confidence shaken by something he could neither see nor fully comprehend.Even while knowing the optimal move, Tyler could not comprehend why the ball no longer met his hand.
Once again, he activated his ability and struck the ball.
He was certain—absolutely certain—that this kick would become another goal.
But once more, the ball twisted mid-course, betraying his expectation, and Michael caught it cleanly.
Confusion now clouded Tyler's expression, yet he refused to concede.
Then it was Michael's turn.
Just like before, he scored.
Tyler's composure finally collapsed. The realization struck him—not as a physical blow, but as a crushing certainty. His mind admitted defeat long before his body could. And with that admission, the souls were freed.
Everything reverted to normal.
Diego and Leona awoke.
Michael: Good thing you understood my idea without needing a signal.
Kael: Why wouldn't I? You chose the one game where we could deceive even his seemingly invincible ability. All I had to do was erase the space.
Hearing this, Tyler's face drained of color. He could not accept how utterly—and how simply—he had been outplayed.
Michael: Well then, all that's left is you.
Fear finally took hold.
Tyler begged for mercy, desperation seeping into his voice. Michael tilted his head slightly and asked, almost mockingly-
Michael: Why don't you use your ability? Find your best move.
Tyler did.
And what he saw terrified him.
His best move was to flee the tent.
But escape was impossible.
He looked up at Michael, eyes wide, face pale—yet Michael's expression did not soften. His resolve remained unchanged.
Michael clenched his fist.
And then—
A relentless barrage crashed down upon Tyler.
Michael's hand landed on him.
Charlie, who had remained outside, watched as the liberated souls drifted skyward, their forms glowing faintly as they vanished into the night.
What the hell…? she thought.
Moments later, Kael and the others emerged, Tyler slung between them—unconscious, utterly defeated.
Charlie blinked, eyes darting between them.
Charlie: What happened? What were those things that flew out? And who the hell is this?
Michael: Nothing much. Just one more victory.
Tyler was promptly transferred to the newly established Ice Box facility located in B City via CTP. Along with him, the team transmitted detailed information regarding the landmark known as Jailhouse Rock—its properties, restrictions, and potential dangers—to the WHA, ensuring the safety of anyone who might encounter it in the future.
With the matter settled, they resumed their journey eastward.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, exhaustion finally caught up to them. They opened the canned rations, ate in near silence, and decided to rest where they were.
Tomorrow, the road would continue.