The journey from the hidden kingdom of Aeonfall was a stark departure from the tense, somber trek that had led them there. They left the Whispering Mountains behind, emerging from the perpetual twilight of the deep woods into the bright, warm sunlight of the open road. King Kōken had provided them with a sturdy, magically-enforced wagon laden with enough supplies to last them for weeks, a tangible symbol of their new, and deeply serious, alliance.

Kenjiro sat at the front, holding the reins with a practiced ease he didn't know he possessed, the Amulet of Concordance a cool, heavy weight against his chest. The vision it had shown him—the screaming souls, the all-consuming eye—was a dark cloud on the horizon of his mind, a storm he knew he would eventually have to face. But for now, the sun was warm, the road was clear, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of something that wasn't rage, or annoyance, or a desperate, clawing need for revenge. He felt a quiet, steady sense of purpose.

His party had changed. Selene Winterbane, the powerful and ancient ice mage, now sat beside him, her usual cold, distant demeanor replaced by a quiet, watchful intensity. She was a silent, formidable presence, her grief a palpable thing, but her resolve an even stronger one. In the back of the wagon, the usual chaos had settled into a comfortable, familiar rhythm. Gluteus was meticulously sketching in his notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration as he incorporated the unique properties of the star mineral into his new armor designs. Lyrielle was reading from a thick, leather-bound tome, occasionally murmuring a soft, Elvish word to SynchroNoice, who was listening with a rapt, focused attention, a small notebook of his own open on his lap. Even DragonSlayer was quiet, his usual antagonistic energy replaced by a sullen, brooding silence as he sharpened his sword, pointedly refusing to look at anyone.

The peace, of course, was never meant to last.

A sound, so familiar it was practically the theme music for Kenjiro's unending frustration, ripped through the tranquil afternoon.

ZUUUUUUUP!

Two figures appeared in a flash of displaced air, landing in the middle of the road directly in front of the wagon with a synchronized, dramatic flair that was as impressive as it was irritating. It was Nomu and Zevita. They stood back-to-back, their arms crossed, their ridiculously sculpted hair somehow immune to the gentle breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees around them.

"Bombom!" Nomu declared, his voice a booming, theatrical baritone that was clearly meant to intimidate. "We have followed you across the land! We have honed our power! We have pushed ourselves beyond the limits of mortal men! And now, the time for our final battle has come!"

Kenjiro pulled the reins, the wagon groaning to a halt. He didn't even bother to get up. He just rested his head in his hand, a look of profound, soul-deep weariness on his face. "I'm not in the mood," he said, his voice flat with exhaustion. "Go away."

"We will not be denied!" Zevita added, his voice a high, reedy counterpoint to Nomu's booming bass. "We have unlocked our ultimate potential! You will face us, and you will know the true power of the Super Jeans!"

A collective, weary sigh emanated from the back of the wagon. DragonSlayer didn't even look up from his whetstone. "Just ignore them," he grumbled. "Maybe they'll get bored and go away."

"You think this is a joke?!" Nomu roared, a vein throbbing on his forehead. He and Zevita turned to face each other, a look of grim, theatrical resolve on their faces. They clenched their fists, took a deep, simultaneous breath, and began to scream.

"HRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

The air around them exploded with a raw, untamed energy. The ground shook, pebbles and dust rising into the air as their power levels skyrocketed. Their stiff, black hair erupted in a flash of brilliant, golden light, transforming into two wild, spiky, and unmistakably blonde manes. A shimmering, golden aura, so bright it was almost blinding, engulfed them both. They were no longer just two weirdos in tight pants; they were two super-powered, golden-haired weirdos in tight pants.

"BEHOLD!" they roared in unison, their voices a layered, booming chorus of pure, unadulterated power. "OUR FINAL FORM! NOW, BOMBOM, YOU WILL FACE YOUR DOOM!"

They struck a final, dramatic pose, their muscles bulging, their golden auras flaring with an intensity that made the very air feel thick and heavy. They waited, their faces masks of supreme, intimidating confidence, ready to witness the terror their ultimate transformation had wrought.

Kenjiro just stared. He looked at their spiky, golden hair. He looked at their intense, dramatic poses. He looked at the sheer, unmitigated absurdity of the scene before him. And then, he did something he hadn't done in a long, long time. He laughed. It wasn't the hysterical, tear-streaked laugh from their last encounter. It was a genuine, deep, and utterly derisive laugh, a sound of pure, unadulterated amusement at the sheer, pathetic ridiculousness of it all.

"You guys," he said, his voice full of a calm, almost pitying condescension, "are the biggest idiots I have ever met in my entire life."

He hopped down from the wagon, cracking his knuckles, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading across his face. "You want a fight?" he asked, his red eyes blazing with a new, cold light. "Fine. Let's fight."

A voice, deep and amused, echoed in the back of his mind. It was his muscular shadow, and it was laughing. Hehehe, this is going to be good, it seemed to say. Let's see what the little Lily can do on his own.

Nomu and Zevita, their confidence momentarily shaken by his complete lack of fear, charged. They were a blur of motion, two golden comets of pure, destructive power. Nomu threw a punch, a blow that could shatter a mountain, but Kenjiro, with a fluid, almost lazy grace, simply sidestepped it, the wind from the attack ruffling his hair. Zevita came in from the other side, his fist almost vanishing in the air, but Bombom just ducked under the attack, his movements a dance of pure, instinctual grace.

He wasn't using his shadows. He wasn't using the raw, chaotic magic he had absorbed from the cube. This was something else. It was the muscle memory of a thousand battles, the honed instincts of a man who had dedicated his entire life to the art of combat, all channeled through a body that was lighter, faster, and more agile than his old one had ever been. He was a whirlwind of motion, a slender, purple-skirted blur that the two super-powered warriors couldn't even touch.

Pathetic, the shadow's voice echoed in his mind, dripping with contempt. All that power, and they can't even land a single hit. They're just flailing around like children.

After a few more minutes of the one-sided, ridiculous dance, Kenjiro decided he had had enough. He saw his opening. As Nomu charged, he dropped to one knee, letting the powerful warrior fly over his head, and then shot back up, delivering a single, powerful kick to the back of Zevita's knee. The second Super Jean went down with a surprised yelp. Bombom then spun, his other leg lashing out in a perfect, sweeping kick that took Nomu's legs out from under him. The two golden-haired warriors collapsed to the ground in a tangled, undignified heap.

Bombom stood over them, not even breathing hard, a look of pure, unadulterated boredom on his face. "Is that it?" he asked, his voice dripping with a condescending disappointment. "I'm not even warmed up."

Nomu and Zevita pushed themselves to their feet, their golden auras flickering, their faces masks of pure, unadulterated shock. "H-how?" Nomu stammered. "You're... you're just a Lily! You're supposed to be weak!"

A slow, dangerous grin spread across Kenjiro's face. "Oh, I'm weak," he said, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "But the monster inside me?"

And then, it happened. The muscular shadow, which had been a silent, amused spectator this whole time, finally decided to make an appearance. It erupted from Kenjiro's back, a towering, terrifying phantom of pure, unadulterated rage. It was larger, more defined, more real than it had ever been before. It flexed its impossible muscles, its red eyes glowing with a cruel, triumphant light. It looked down at the two trembling, golden-haired warriors, and then it opened its mouth and roared, a single, deafening, world-shattering phrase that was not a word, but a pure, primal declaration of absolute, overwhelming power.

"THE MONSTER IS GETTING OUT OF JAIL!"

The sheer, unmitigated pressure of its presence, the raw, terrifying aura of a true monster, was too much. Nomu and Zevita's golden auras sputtered and died. Their spiky, blonde hair deflated, returning to its usual, merely ridiculous black. They let out a simultaneous, high-pitched shriek of pure, unadulterated terror. They scrambled to their feet, tripping over each other in their haste to escape. And with a final, pathetic ZUUUUUUUP, they were gone.

The muscular shadow watched them go, a look of pure, contemptuous satisfaction on its face. It flexed one last time, gave a triumphant smirk, and then melted back into Kenjiro's form.

The silence that followed was broken by a single, loud, derisive snort from the back of the wagon. DragonSlayer was laughing, a genuine, hearty sound that was completely devoid of his usual arrogance. Gluteus's deep, rumbling chuckle joined in, and soon, the entire party was laughing, a wave of pure, cathartic amusement washing over them. Even Selene, the stoic, grief-stricken ice mage, had a small, almost imperceptible smile on her face.

Kenjiro just stood there in the middle of the road, a strange, unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. He looked at his friends, at the strange, dysfunctional, but fiercely loyal family he had somehow managed to assemble, and for the first time, he didn't feel like a monster trapped in a pretty boy's body. He just felt like himself.

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