Eighteen - Zen and the art of... the Fist (Edited)

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He stared at a mirror reflection of himself, both wore stoic expressions. The clear, blue sky stretched above him between the narrow buildings while the fluffy, white clouds drifted lazily across the sky.

"Have you ever questioned whether or not Solaris and Solaria were created by a higher entity?"

"No. Why would I? They created this universe and have always existed."

"Everything has to have a beginning."

"Alright, I will go along with your crazy ramblings. If Mother and Father were created by a higher being, than that or those higher beings had to have been created by something else and so on and so forth. It would be an endless cycle."

"I had also reached that conclusion a long time ago; when I first thought about this."

"What are you smoking and why aren't you sharing?"

"My thoughts are not the manifestations of medication nor intoxication."

"Right. You always were... strange."

"Pot and kettle, brother."

Grey laughed and clasped his twin brother's black armoured shoulder, "Zen, brother, I love you, but you are weird."

"Thank you," Zen replied dryly.

'Brother'. A term, a word, a weight Zen disliked to utter, know, and carry. Better words of explanation for his existence would be mistake, accident, fraction, piece, quotient, fragment... balance. He stared at the smiling face of Grey. They used to be one-in-the-same  two sides of the same coin. How could he associate himself with that man, that man who single-handedly destroyed multiple planes mortality and immortality? No amount of good he has done will clear him of all his bad. Zen kept these thoughts to himself. Grey was an invaluable ally and an unstoppable enemy. He knew that one day he would have to face Grey on the battlefield, but it would be on his terms, not Grey's.

He came into existence when the Goddess of Light tried to imprison Grey in a crystal after Dèshū was able to stop his second rampage of Heaven. That crystal did not imprison Grey, instead, it split up his personalities across the different multiverses. Zen was the only one that had been placed in the same universe. He had been understandably disoriented and confused but after a brief explanation from Darqlon he was brought up to speed. Zen did not have any of Grey's memories but he did have all of Grey's martial art skills. Over the ages, Zen refined and studied more martial art abilities by travelling throughout the multiverses.

He was currently in the universe he was created in during a time of great conflict between the Ancients and the Humans. Zen did not have the animosity nor hatred of Grey towards the Humans, in fact, they interested him, but they had gone too far this time. They had released a virus which killed the young and made them all infertile. It was the Year 234 of the Tenth Age, of the Fourth Era. The war had begun the new age. Zen knew it was a losing war but he was going to punish as many humans as he could before death.

Grey got to his feet and dusted himself off, "Let's get going, Marshall. The Volition aren't going to kill themselves."

Zen placed his white helmet with a black visor over his head and accepted the silver hand of Grey, "I have a bad feeling about this mission."

"As do I," Grey screwed on his silver helmet with blue visor, "As do I, brother."

Zen understood why he had a bad feeling: the treaty meeting was an ambush. He and Grey were the only two alive out of six thousand troops. They had no choice but to accept the terms the Humans laid out. With much persuasion from Grey, the Humans allowed the Ancients to keep the Polar lands. He also made the Humans cure them, in order to have more "manual workers to help with the construction of the Empire". Zen could not bear to see his people submit to slavery. He decided to seal himself away within a vault with the hope of awakening to a better future.

His hopes would be crushed.