Shadoweaver: Why should we listen to anything you have to say? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you on the spot right now.

Necropolix: There's something you need to know. It'll change your life.

Shadoweaver: Keep talking.

Necropolix: There's no need for aggression. I'm not going anywhere.

Metarid: If we seem to lack gratitude, it is because on the previous occasions that your path crossed ours, we found ourselves involved in a web of mayhem.

Necropolix: I met another Splixson. All this time we were being manipulated to obscure the damaging truth. It wasn't you who killed my grandfather, Arcmaster, as my father had thought. Instead, it was that Splixson who, along with my grandfather, was responsible for the death of your people. And after that, he must have killed my grandfather to cover his act.

Shadoweaver reverted to Fred.

Marcus: It's just as I deduced.

Fred: I can't believe this. If that Splixson killed Arcmaster, why wasn't he caught by the Osmosian Empire?

Metarid: He must have covered up his involvement afterwards.

Necropolix: That's all he said, but I'm pretty sure there's more to his story than meets the eye.

Fred: Why would a Splixson betray his own people?

Willie: We might be close to finding that out.

On hearing Fred mutter, Willie asked something.

Willie: What is it?

However, Fred didn't have the mind to answer the question as he merely thought of the significance and the reason of the situation in front of him, and then tried to deduce the intention.

Necropolix: On Osmos V, there is an autobiographical record of Arcmaster's life in the archives of the Osmosian royal family. That could probably explain things thoroughly.

Metarid: Let us hope so.

Fred: Come on, guys. Road trip.

Flying in space on the G.P. Brisk II, Fred and the team are making their way to Osmos V, where the Osmosians live.

A few hours later, a fleet of ships come out of hyperspace behind them.

Aboard the enemy ships

"You are being warned. Stop the vessel right now. Our cannons are capable of slicing right through your armor. Resistance is futile. We are fortunate to have the most powerful shield generators."

Fred: What are they doing here?

Willie: Excellent question. I suggest we not stick around to find out.

Fred: I don't know. A little space battle sounds right up my alley.

Metarid: Fred, that would be unwise.

Fred: Turret's got it covered.

Fred looked out the viewport. He could clearly see the glowing bubble around the ships. It was so concentrated that he doubted Turret's lasers could rip through it quickly enough. This was unexpected.

Fred dialed an alien on the Novatrix and slammed the faceplate, transforming into Turret. At that moment, the merc aliens blasted their way into the G.P. Brisk II with heavy artillery.

Turret fires multiple laser beams from his pincer-like appendages, but the highly-trained mercenaries are able to deflect them all with one hand, blasting several holes in the ship.

Necropolix thrusts both his hands forward to fire a powerful blast of energy. However, all mercenaries dodge it except one who is blasted into the vacuum of space.

Jenevile protects both Turret and Necropolix from getting hit, with a shield of Mana.

One of the mercenaries lifts the barrel of his blaster and fires a burst of electromagnetic energy that disrupts the ship's electronic equipment.

Mercenary: Just get the Splixson and the Osmosian.

Turret switches ConDuckt and attempts to fire an electric blast, but fails.

ConDuckt: *quacks* What's up with that?

Metarid: That blast he fired was an electromagnetic pulse. You won't be able to use any electric attack.

One of the mercenaries swiftly dodges Necropolix's attacks and attaches a device to him that neutralizes and suppresses his abilities.

After neutralizing both ConDuckt's and Necropolix's abilities, they grab hold of them and evacuate the ship. Immediately after that, the mercenary ship blasts the G.P. Brisk II with an explosive energy blast.

The mercenaries laughed as the G.P. Brisk II was blasted from space by computer-controlled red laser beams, erupting in a burning fireball on a nearby debris field. Fred and Necropolix were utterly and truly helpless.

Necropolix woke up disoriented. He was on his feet and his arms were above his head cuffed. Looking up he saw that they were chained to the ceiling and when he tried to move his feet, he discovered that they were chained as well. The room was big and dimly lit. As far as he could tell, he was in the middle.

Necropolix hadn't seen anyone for four hours. He was exhausted. His arms ached painfully from being held up. He was thirsty and hungry, and he longed for a drink of water.

The door opened and Inbenton entered with two men behind him.

Necropolix: *angrily* Let me go!

Inbenton just laughed at him.

Inbenton: You are in no positions to make demands. Thirsty?

He snapped his fingers and one of the men came back with a bowl. he set it down on the ground and poured water into it. Then he went behind Necropolix and undid his hands from the ceiling. Necropolix immediately fell as his legs gave out after standing so long. The man paid no attention as he recuffed his hands behind his back.

Inbenton: Drink.

As thirsty as he was, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of him drinking the water as an animal.

Inbenton: Suit yourself.

Necropolix tried to get up onto his feet and that is when the first blow came. He tried to move away but he was helpless to defend himself with his arms and legs cuffed together. The men continued to beat him, until finally one kicked him hard in the stomach, and he threw up stomach acid on the floor. The men went back to their places at the door.

He managed to roll on his side and lay there gasping for breath, his mouth and throat burned.

Inbenton: Awe, you've made a mess of yourself.

Currently, Fred was locked up, cut off from the Novatrix, and staring cross-eyed at a jagged blue energy blade.

"Well then boy." Azeroth rasped out, his face twitching in anticipation. "Goodbye." The blade flashed down and connected with Fred's restrained left arm just above the wrist.

Just above the Novatrix.

Fred couldn't even scream as he held the charred stump that used to be his left hand in front of his face. Eyes wide with mute horror, he didn't even react as Azeroth raised his blade one final time. However, something else did. Currently, that thing was attached to a severed forearm, sitting inside a small containment shell which, in theory, would keep the Novatrix from doing anything.

The blade lowered with agonizing slowness to Fred's pain addled mind. He watched it fall towards his face, expecting something to happen, for someone to save him, anything. Nothing happened. Just as the blade touched the tip of Fred's forehead, there was an explosion of green light, then…


Necropolix wondered if anyone was coming to save him. Little did he know that a plan was being put in motion to find him.

Blazing, red chariot-like ships circled the destroyed G.P. Brisk II. It was the Warriors of Apollo.

Jenevile had protected everyone from the impact of the explosion with a crystalline mana shield.

Willie: It's Apollo!

Marcus: We're saved!

Apollo: Hello, old friends! No need for chatting. My Warriors will escort you to Supmylo while I rescue your friends. But I regret to admit that we are too late. The future I have foreseen is not a pleasant one.

Apollo dashed like a fiery comet in his godlike speed and drew a dark orange circle that looked just like the corona of a solar eclipse.

Apollo made a quick stop on Hathor and brought along the Osmosians that Necropolix had rescued from the torture camp. Together they raided the prison in which Fred and Necropolix were being held in.

Apollo and the Osmosians made it through the prison asteroid, slashing through the countless guards stationed there. They arrived at Necropolix's cell.

Inbenton and Azeroth both stood in the face of Apollo, thinking they could defeat the fire god. They had not realized that, in fact, they were greatly outmatched. Apollo jabs his two index fingers on Azeroth and Inbenton respectively, sending a golden wave of chi across their bodies with each attack.

Apollo had rendered both Osmosian Warlords unconscious with the least effort.

The Osmosians broke Necropolix's shackles and followed Apollo's lead. Apollo knew of the incredibly bad news that was awaiting them at Fred's cell but chose not to speak.

As they arrived at Fred's cell

Apollo: I'm sorry.

Necropolix: What? Where's Fred?

Apollo: Fred's dead. I knew it was too late.

Apollo's eyes were cold and desolate; not a trace of emotions.

Suddenly, an alarm rang inside in the prison. All prison guards had converged towards them. Apollo quickly grabbed the containment pod with the Novatrix inside. He blew a hole in the prison wall and summoned his chariot.

Everyone quickly got on the chariot. Then, it blazed away.

Necropolix stared blankly at Fred's Novatrix. He sought to find a trace of Fred's existence on that blue watch, but there was nothing. There wasn't a thing left on that expressionless shining surface that would hint at its owner.

After his death, Fred is seen falling into the Great Chasm, the River Styx, a river of black murky water with tormented souls swimming through it. Fred is able to swim in it, though the cursed souls that are in the river attack him.

Fred contemplates his life as he lurches through the River Styx and its caverns, and resolves to escape Death. On his way to Death's Realm after being sucked of nearly all of his power from the dead souls of Styx, he reunites with Deck.

Deck: I have missed you, Fred.

Fred: I...I died...

Deck: Yes, your death came by the blade of Azeroth. But I'm sure Death will allow you to return to the living world.

Fred: Why so?

Deck: Fate. Everything is as the Fates decree.

Deck teleports Fred to Death's Cavern. The ground roared as it tremored, a gigantic black shadow crossed. What laid further in was a being of two and a half meters, a humanoid silhouette clad in flapping black robes. Within the hood, the arms peeking out from the cuffs, were dark, corporeal, and wriggling as they coiled about. Inside it's murky face, all that occupied it was a pair of energetic eyeballs, their blood vessels visible, looking down at Fred. He wielded a huge black scythe in his right hand. From the edge of that cruel curve, viscid red blots trickled down, drop by drop. As a whole, he had a figure like that of the supposed god of death.

Possessing a gaze without the slightest trace of fear, Fred stared straight at the gigantic Death God.

Death: My my my… what have we here? Have a little accident, did we?

Fred: Yes... You're Death, right?

Death: I am ever-present, always watching. Death is everywhere, everywhen. There is no life that ends which I am not aware of, and no life-or-death situation over which I do not preside. I have been your constant, if invisible, battle-companion; I have studied the sand in your hourglass closely… mortal.

Death: The river spells instant death for all who touch it. To survive it is to possess the soul of a God!

Fred: I'm not a God, that's for sure.

The Death God's scythe relentlessly swung down, drawing a line of dark-red light. The atrocious pointed edge came within reach of Fred. Right before it came into contact with him, it was hindered by a vivid purple barrier, and repulsed with a large noise.

The black death God spun his eyeballs about, as though he was bewildered.

Death: You do indeed possess the soul of a God. The spirit of Apophis lays dormant deep inside you.

Fred: Apophis? What's going on? I don't remember being told I have a God's spirit in me.

Death: Osiris and Apophis were two ancient twins, who were the rulers of the galaxy. Unlike what most people believed, they were not like Yin and Yang, polar opposites. Instead, they were both evil. They were engaged in a civil war between them, and the two challenged each other to a duel. Fearing the galaxy would be destroyed shall they continue fighting, Naljians entered the scene, and casted their souls into different spots of the galaxy. If one of the souls was destroyed, the other would rise, and destroy the world. Power-hungry warlords searched for their dormant souls for centuries, but no one has found them yet.

Death: The prophecies decree that the spirits be hosted on a solitary alignment, a rare event on Hathor, happening once every 60 years... In recorded history, it happened once a hundred and tweny years ago when Mick was born, and another time when you were.

Death: Mick conspired with Emperor Arcmaster, plotting to take the spirits... but Mick double-crossed him and murdered him. The prophecies decreed that the end of their power is in the battle of their hosts, a battle of black and white Ever a powerhungry cruel, Mick instigated the genocide of his whole species to remove any challenge of his power.

Death: The Emperors of the Osmosian empire ever were on the hunt of the killer of Arcmaster, the last Splixson, or so they thought you were.

Fred: Woah... But then... Why did Apophis pick me?

Death: Apophis seeks to ever destroy its twin.. Foreseeing the hosting of Osiris within Mick, it chose a person of the same species, relaying the circumstances for their final battle.

Death: And its ever been helping the circumstances play out... It provided your parents with the equipment to rescue you, crashed Metarid's ship, and caused Demonstar's own blade to pierce him, all leading up to this moment.

Fred: I can't believe this. All this time...

Death: Fortunately for you, I have already filled my quota of souls today. So… I will let you go back. However, you owe me a favor…

Fred: Yes... I still have a few... loose ends to tie.

The camera pans up to his glaring hardened expression, a murderous glare aimed for Mick.

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