Chapter 43: Bloodstains & Bad Vibes
The void wasn't silent anymore. It *screamed*.
Zokraks, hovering amidst the cosmic debris like a neon-clad conductor, threw his head back. "Alright, Shadow Man! Time to *squeeze* the last drop!" He raised the **GodSlayer**, the colossal lemon wedge blazing with enough divine power to curdle milk across galaxies. "This ain't just *Ultimate Lemonade*... it's the *Ultimate How Slash*! Catch!"
He didn't swing. He *unleashed*. A crescent wave of pure, incandescent citrus energy – sharp as a rind, sour as betrayal, and bright as oblivion – ripped through the vacuum. Gayle Sambell, still reeling from the lemonade tidal wave, tried to raise his shadow-chains. They dissolved like sugar in supernova tea before the slash hit.
*Schiiiiing.*
It wasn't a messy explosion. It was clean. Precise. Like a master chef separating zest from pith. Sambell's head, expression frozen in cold surprise, tumbled slowly end-over-end into the infinite dark, followed by the rest of him, already dissolving into harmless, faintly lemon-scented stardust.
"Whoops," Zokraks chirped, twirling the GodSlayer. "Guess he couldn't *handle* the acidity! Talk about a *bitter* end!" He gave the dissipating remains a jaunty salute. "Rest in zest, you over-caffeinated shadow!"
Before the last molecule of Sambell vanished, a familiar, battered cloud – Wukong's personal Uber – screeched to a halt beside Zokraks. Wukong leaned out, grey blood still crusting his fur, grinning like a maniac who'd just won a bet with Death. "Hop in, Lemon Lord! Place is getting *crowded*!"
Xorath sat rigidly in the back, already scanning the horizon with the intensity of a man expecting tax auditors. "Police drones," he stated flatly. "Universe 2. Swarming like angry gnats over a rotten fruit stand." He didn't look at Zokraks. "You left quite the... *peel*."
"Hey, I clean up after myself!" Zokraks protested, scrambling onto the cloud. "Mostly! Besides, that court needed redecorating. Too much *shadow*, not enough *sunshine*!" He plopped down, the GodSlayer vanishing with a *pop* like a cork. "Where to, Captain Chaos?"
"Universe 1," Wukong declared, snapping the reins. "Final check-in for the VIP lounge – Universe 0! Try not to drip divine weapon residue on the upholstery. It clashes with the grey blood."
As they shot towards the shimmering portal to Universe 1, Wukong glanced back. Universe 2 was indeed a mess. Glowing police drones, shaped like angry teacups, zipped through the wreckage of the court, scanning debris. Holographic "WANTED: FOR DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY & EXCESSIVE CITRUS USAGE" posters flickered above the carnage. "Look at 'em scramble!" Wukong cackled, wiping a smear of grey blood off his cheek. "Bet they're trying to bill *me* for the damages. Good luck collecting from a guy who turns tax forms into origami cranes!"
Universe 1 materialized – a place of pristine white marble, serene gardens, and unnervingly clean air. The cloud landed with a soft *puff* in a bustling plaza. Immediately, the serene vibe curdled. Heads turned. Whispers rustled like dry leaves. Eyes narrowed at the trio: Wukong's battered, grey-bloodied form; Xorath's intense, brooding aura; Zokraks practically vibrating with leftover citrus energy in his neon disaster of an outfit.
"Subtle," Xorath muttered, pulling his hood lower. "Like a meteor in a china shop."
"Relax, X-man!" Zokraks beamed, oblivious. "They're just admiring my *zest* for life! And maybe my *rind*-tastic fashion sense!"
They shuffled towards the gleaming, floating archway labeled **"UNIVERSE 0 ACCESS: FINAL CONFIRMATION."** The checker, a being of pure, calm light, gestured for their cards. Wukong smoothly produced the three stolen **CONFIRMATION** cards. The light-being scanned them... then paused. Its luminous form dimmed slightly.
"Red dots," it chimed, its voice like wind chimes dipped in suspicion. "On your garments. Organic residue. Blood?"
Wukong's grin didn't waver. "Oh, this? Just... *tomato* salsa! Had a bit of a *spicy* encounter on the way. You know how it is. Gets *everywhere*." He subtly tried to wipe a grey smear on his robe, only succeeding in smearing it wider.
"Blood isn't grey, Monkey King," the checker intoned, its light pulsing faster. "This reads as... *unconventional* biological matter. Possibly divine. Possibly... *evidence*."
Zokraks stepped forward, flashing his most winning smile. "Evidence of *what*? Fabulous taste? Unparalleled combat *zest*? Or maybe," he leaned in conspiratorially, "just the *pulp* fiction of a hard day's work? Come on, lighten up! Life's too short to be *sour*!" He winked. The checker remained unimpressed, its light now a distinct, warning amber.
Xorath's hand drifted towards an unseen weapon. "We are compromised," he stated, his voice low and gravelly. "Extraction protocol."
"Extraction? Sounds *juicy*!" Zokraks quipped, but his smile tightened. "But maybe skip the *peel*-ing back of layers, yeah?"
Wukong's eyes darted. More light-beings were converging, their serene expressions hardening. "Right! Time to *split* before they start asking for DNA samples! Or worse, *feedback*!" He slammed a **CONFIRMATION: VOID-STEP** card onto the ground. Space *rippled* beneath them. "Hang on to your lemons!"
The plaza dissolved into swirling colors. They rematerialized just outside the city limits, stumbling onto a quiet, grassy hill overlooking Universe 1's sparkling metropolis. Wukong gasped, clutching his side. "Made it! Told you the *Not-Dead-Yet (Probably)* card was a lifesaver! Though," he grimaced, looking at his grey-stained hands, "maybe not *literally*."
Zokraks adjusted his umbrella hat, breathing heavily. "Whew! That was *close*. Felt like I was about to get *squeezed* for info! Good thing I always *peel* under pressure!" He gave a shaky thumbs-up.
Xorath scanned the horizon, his posture rigid. "The police from Universe 2 may have alerted local authorities. We are still vulnerable."
"Vulnerable? Pfft!" Wukong scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "We're practically *invisible*! Just three harmless travelers, minding our own business, definitely *not* covered in the grey blood of a vanquished shadow-bodyguard..." He trailed off as a low, smooth voice cut through the crisp Universe 1 air, seemingly from *everywhere* and *nowhere*.
**"What's the rush, Wukong?"**
The voice was calm, amused, utterly unfamiliar, and carried the weight of absolute certainty. It wasn't shouted. It *settled* on them like dust, chilling the warm sunlight.
All three froze. Wukong's sarcastic grin vanished, replaced by sharp alertness. Xorath's hand snapped to his weapon, eyes scanning the empty hilltop with lethal focus. Zokraks' usual extroverted energy evaporated, his double entendres dying on his lips as he slowly turned, his neon clothes suddenly looking garish against the serene landscape.
The voice came again, closer now, echoing with unnatural clarity from the empty space behind them. **"Leaving so soon? We barely got to... *confirm* your story."**
Wukong slowly turned, staff materializing in his grey-bloodied grip, his knuckles white. His usual humor was gone, replaced by the cold calculation of a predator caught in the open. The serene hilltop felt like a trap. The mysterious figure wasn't shouting. It was purring. And it knew exactly who they were.