23. End

Those were the same lines Zuko had said before killing Ozai. And he was very serious. So serious that the heat radiating from him distorted the air, making the world look like a mirage.

Aang gripped his staff, ready to meet him.

“Wait, Twinkle Toes,” Toph barked, stepping in front of him. “I don’t like the looks of this. His heartbeat… it’s too calm. It’s like he’s sleeping. No one is that calm before a fight.”

“I have to do this, Toph,” Aang said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He won’t stop until I make him stop.”

“Be careful,” she warned, stepping back.

Two of the strongest forces in the world soon stood just ten yards apart.

“Sozin’s Comet is going to vanish soon,” Zuko noted.

“I know…” Aang replied, shifting his stance.

That made Zuko smirk, showing an expression that seemed to age his face by decades. “Hmph. I wonder if you met the giant lion turtle to learn something new?”

Aang’s eyes widened. His breath hitched in his throat. Zuko was doing it again. How could Zuko know? The lion turtle was a being that Aang had only encountered hours ago in a trance before meeting up with his team.

That was why they came here on his plan: because he was going to try and take Zuko’s bending away. Only Team Avatar should have known about the lion turtle.

“How…?” Aang stammered.

“I read your thoughts,” Zuko lied, tapping his own temple. “You’re just a boy, a frail one at best, who knows nothing of the world he lives in or what governs it.” The flames of the Imperial Firebenders then surrounded the two in a circle.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Zuko announced, pointing at himself. “Try and take my bending away. Use the technique the turtle taught you. If you can strip me of my fire, my people and I will yield, and we’ll submit to the Avatar forever.”

The crowd gasped as Iroh and Ursa stood up.

“And if I refuse?” Aang asked, only half-confident.

“Then either me, or my archers, or my elite firebending army will kill you and your friends…”

Aang looked at Katara, then at Sokka and Toph. They were brave, but they were outnumbered a thousand to one. If Aang fought physically, they might die in the skirmish even if it’s a one-on-one.

But if he accepted the challenge, he could end the war without any bloodshed.

“Do I have your word that you’ll stop this war?” he asked.

“You do…”

So Aang took a deep breath as he holstered his staff and walked forward. This was the moment Zuko had been waiting for—the moment in which the Avatar would be able to stand chest to chest with him.

‘To bend another’s energy,’ he remembered, “your own spirit must be unbendable.”

It’s then he extended a hand, allowing Aang to grip it.

When Aang closed his eyes, Zuko felt it instantly.

Two radiant lights shot toward the sky, blinding the spectators. A pillar of brilliant, pure blue light then erupted from Aang, representing the cosmic energy of the Avatar. Simultaneously, a pillar of violent, corrupted crimson erupted from Zuko.

The two lights clashed by swirling around them like a tornado of spirit.

Some spectators shielded their eyes, and the Grand Lotus members all watched in horror as the beams began to shake with the intensity of the struggle.

Inside the light, Aang was fighting for the balance of the world. He was pouring his pacifism, his love, and his desire for harmony into Zuko’s spirit.

But Zuko wasn’t the old Zuko.

This Zuko didn’t care about harmony; he cared about winning. His will wasn’t as unbendable because of spiritual enlightenment; it was unbendable because of his absolute, sociopathic detachment.

And he viewed Aang as nothing more than an ant on his hand.

You’re weak, his mind projected into the void. You hesitate so much… But me…? I do not!

The crimson light then flared and began to eat the blue.

“No!” Katara screamed, seeing Aang’s light flicker.

But it was too late. The red light pulsed and washed over Aang’s blue aura, consuming it inch by inch. Aang soon gasped before the red swallowed him inside.

Then silence.

When the light faded, Zuko stood tall as his chest heaved from that rush of power. Aang, however, slumped in Zuko’s grip. The Avatar’s eyes were now completely vacant.

When Zuko let go, the boy collapsed to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.

Toph fell to her knees and whispered in a cracking tone. “I… I can’t feel him alive anymore.”

Zuko had done it! Aang was an empty husk before the people he reigned over. But he was far from leaving it like that.

“Just another stupid boy playing pretend,” he muttered, drawing a ceremonial katana from his side.

“Don’t you dare!” Sokka yelled before charging forward into the wall of fire.

“Sokka, stop!” Katara tried.

But Zuko didn’t even look up.

Shank!

The blade flashed in the comet’s light as Katara screamed in horror from Aang having his head cut off.

The bison roared in anguish and their lemur flew away.

When Zuko flicked the blade to clean the blood, he caught Sokka by the face. Then a surge of white flames erupted from Sokka’s whole body, burning him to a crisp.

The cheers of his people rose to a deafening crescendo, overshadowing Katara and Toph’s frantic cries. Azula couldn’t stop laughing manically. The sounds were triumphant as they filled the fire lord’s ears.

And then, the world began to dim.

The orange sky turned gray, and the sound of the cheering slowed down into a guttural drone. When the heat of the comet evaporated, it replaced things in a chilling void.

Zuko blinked as the palace dissolved into pixels, the body of the Avatar fractured into geometric shapes, and the fire lord found himself floating in a white void of nothingness.

A massive red banner unfurled across the emptiness.

GAME OVER. YOU LOSE.

Zuko’s body then transformed to Alex’s as he stared at the words. He was utterly confused.

“Lose?” he said aloud. “I won. I killed him.”

The sensation of the void intensified once he felt a lurch, like falling from a great height, before a black vortex swallowed him whole.

Hiss.

The hydraulic seal released, and sterile air rushed into the pod.

Alex inhaled loudly as his real eyes flew open. His body felt sluggish, like he was wearing a lead suit. The sensory deprivation of the Enclave Mk. I faded before being replaced by the lights of the Elysium lab.

When the canopy lifted, Dr. Kapoor stood there, holding a tablet. There was also a smirk on her face. “Welcome back.”

Alex groaned, sitting up. He rubbed his face as his hands continued to tremble slightly from the neural disconnect. It felt like waking up from a decade-long dream in a matter of minutes. He couldn’t even tell how long that dream really was.

But when he looked at Dr. Kapoor, the memory of the game over banner burned in his mind.

“How?” he demanded in a raspy tone. “How did I lose? I killed the Avatar! That was a win!”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Dr. Kapoor said, turning on her heel.

She eventually led him out of the server room and into the observation deck. A massive screen displayed a playback of his vitals and the program’s logic tree.

“The system was very specific about victory conditions,” she explained, tapping the screen. It showed the moment of Aang’s death. “You certainly killed the physical vessel. However, look here.” She pointed to a line of code pulsing red. “That thing called ‘Raava’ wasn’t destroyed… You only killed Aang while he was in a normal state.”

Alex stared at the screen with his jaw tightening.

“It says here,” she continued reading, “that because the Avatar did not die while in the Avatar State, the cycle continues. The spirit has already reincarnated into the Water Tribe. You didn’t finish the war, Alex. You just started a new timer. In sixteen years, a new Avatar would rise to challenge Fire lord Zuko. Therefore, you failed to secure eternal victory in the time provided.”

Alex slammed his hands together. “That’s ridiculous! I lose because of some reincarnation nonsense? I conquered their stupid world by myself!”

“Such was the world you were in, my dear Alex,” she said, unfazed by his temper. “The simulation was merely based on the lore, and the lore dictates that the Avatar is a continuous cycle unless killed in the right state. You knew this. You even lectured the boy about it.”

“I thought breaking his spirit would be enough,” Alex spat. “I hate this religion crap.”

As he paced the room, his mind was trying to comprehend what he could have done better. Then things started to creep back in: the itch to dominate and rid himself of perpetual boredom.

“I want to play again,” he demanded, turning back to her.

“The prototype needs to cool down,” she noted with a smile, “and your neural pathways need rest. Besides, we’ll be able to create even better more worlds once the Mk. II is finished.”

“I don’t care,” Alex grinned. “But next time, I don’t want NPCs. I want to play with other people. Real people. And no religion. No spirits. No reincarnation bull crap.”

“That’s going to be hard, you know,” Dr. Kapoor chuckled, adjusting her glasses. “Most of the world is religious in some form.”

“Then find me a Christian or something while you’re working on it,” Alex scoffed, crossing his arms. “And not a fake one either. A born again Christian.”

Kapoor raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the same thing as religion?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Last I checked, Christianity and a Christian are two different things. One’s a system, the other’s a person who follows Christ or something. I can easily break a person even if the game’s not rigged in my favor.”

Dr. Kapoor found Alex’s request amusing because he was treating theology like a mechanic to be exploited or banned in real life.

“Very well,” she said, tapping a note into her tablet. “There are many Christians in the state of California. I’m sure the company can find one willing to play against you.”

Alex looked back at the pod. He had lost the game, but he had tasted absolute power. And next time, he wouldn’t let a technicality stop him from winning for real.

“Make it happen, Doc. And find me an even harder world.”