The Winner's Wing fell quiet as the brackets reshuffled themselves in midair.
Golden light spun, names blurring before locking into place.
Wario vs. Meta Knight.
Pit vs. Mr. Game & Watch.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then realization set in.
Several heads slowly turned toward Pit.
Red's earlier words echoed in their minds.
Each world has an Apex.
Palutena was the first to move.
Before Pit could even process what he was seeing, a firm hand grabbed his arm—then another, and another. In seconds, he was being dragged away from the railing.
"Lady Palutena—hey—wait—!"
Viridi clicked her tongue, already annoyed. "Absolutely not. You are not standing anywhere near that thing."
Phosphora hovered beside them, arms crossed, sparks crackling faintly along her wings. "Did you see how Red lost? That wasn't a fight. That was a demonstration."
Amazon Pandora glanced back toward the arena, eyes narrowed as Mr. Game & Watch stood motionless on the stage, flat and silent, like a mistake that had learned how to move.
"That being isn't playing by the same rules," she said calmly. "Gods recognize gods."
Pit swallowed. "You guys are acting like I'm already dead…"
Palutena finally stopped, turning to face him. Her expression was gentle—but serious in a way that made Pit's stomach sink.
"Pit," she said softly, "this isn't about confidence. This is about survival."
From across the arena, the bell rang, signaling the start of the first semifinal match.
Wario roared as Meta Knight drew his blade.
But Pit couldn't look away from the other side of the stage.
Mr. Game & Watch didn't move.
Didn't react.
Didn't exist the way everyone else did.
And for the first time since entering the tournament, Pit felt something unfamiliar tighten in his chest.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Something ancient had stepped onto the battlefield.
And it was his turn next.
Wario snorted, folding his arms as he glanced between the brackets and Pit.
"At first I was gonna cry when I saw who I was up against," he said. "Then I saw who you were fighting."
He grinned, sharp and unapologetic. "Good knowing you, angel."
Pit blinked, then frowned.
"Hey."
Meta Knight, already hovering a few feet above the floor, said nothing. His eyes were fixed on Wario, unreadable beneath the mask.
Across the wing, the mood was… different.
Palutena had both hands on Pit's shoulders.
Viridi stood to his left, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at Mr. Game & Watch like he was a walking natural disaster.
Phosphora crackled faintly with static.
Pandora, unusually serious, leaned in close.
"That thing," Pandora said quietly, "is not a joke."
"I know," Pit replied. His tone was calm—too calm. "I felt it when Red talked about Apexes."
Palutena exhaled. "Pit… this isn't about strength. Game & Watch doesn't play by rules. He doesn't have a narrative. He doesn't have limits the way others do."
Viridi added, "He's like a concept pretending to be a fighter."
Pit smiled, soft but steady.
"Then I'll treat him like one."
Sora's voice echoed through the Smash House, casual and far too cheerful for what was coming.
"Alright! Semi-Finals, second round! Fighters to your stages!"
The arena lights split.
Wario and Meta Knight vanished in a flash of violet light.
Pit felt the familiar pull of teleportation grip his wings.
Palutena pressed a kiss to his forehead—quick, deliberate.
"One seal," she whispered. "No more."
A quiet click echoed through Pit's chest.
The world shifted.
---
Smash Arena
Stage: Final Destination
Pit landed lightly on the right side of the platform, wings flexing once as he adjusted. The air felt… thin. Empty. Like the stage itself was holding its breath.
Across from him, Mr. Game & Watch appeared as a flat, black silhouette—featureless except for the simple, smiling face.
No aura.
No presence.
And yet—
Pit's instincts screamed.
"So," Pit said, forcing a grin. "You're the Apex, huh?"
Mr. Game & Watch tilted his head.
A bell rang.
The match began.
Game & Watch moved first—not fast, not slow, just there. A hammer appeared, swung with cartoon simplicity.
Pit dodged, wings snapping open as he lifted into the air—real flight this time.
The hammer missed.
The platform cracked.
Pit's eyes widened.
"…Okay, noted."
He fired three arrows in rapid succession.
They hit.
They passed straight through.
No damage percentage appeared.
From the stands, Red's voice was quiet but clear.
"He doesn't lose health," Red said. "He loses conditions."
Pit hovered, heart steady now instead of racing.
"Alright," he murmured. "Then let's talk conditions."
Golden light flared along his wings—not overwhelming, not catastrophic. Controlled. Ancient.
Mr. Game & Watch paused.
For the first time—
The silhouette reacted.
Sora leaned forward in the admin booth, eyes sharp, grin gone.
"Oh," he said softly.
"This is gonna be fun."
Then Pit blinked as Mr Game & Watch vanished and now was behind him, as they hit him with a big hammer making him skitter to the ground
Pit slid across the stone floor, boots carving shallow grooves before he caught himself with one wing and rolled back to his feet.
He blinked.
"…Okay," Pit said honestly. "That was fast."
Mr. Game & Watch didn't answer. He never did.
The flat, living silhouette popped out of existence again—blink—and reappeared above Pit, hammer already mid-swing.
Pit twisted instinctively, the blow grazing his shoulder instead of caving it in. The impact still sent him skidding backward, wings flaring to stabilize.
The screen updated.
Pit: 5%
Mr. Game & Watch: 2%
From the stands, Viridi leaned forward. "He's not strong," she muttered. "He's… inevitable."
Palutena's expression was tight. "He doesn't follow causality. He follows rules."
Amazon Pandora folded her arms. "That's worse."
Back on the stage, Pit exhaled and straightened, rolling his shoulders. His bow shimmered into his hand, light gathering along the string.
"Okay," he said again, smiling this time. "So you're that kind of Apex."
Mr. Game & Watch froze.
Then—he crouched.
A frame later, the ground itself tilted.
Pit felt it before he saw it: the physics snapping sideways as if someone had grabbed the stage and shook it. His footing vanished, gravity briefly forgot what it was doing, and he was forced airborne.
The audience gasped as Pit was launched upward—
—and then stopped.
Midair.
Wings flared fully, light rippling across the gold rings wrapped around them. One of the seals pulsed… and loosened.
Pit hovered there, perfectly still.
"…Oh," he said, glancing down. "Right. I can do that."
Mr. Game & Watch tilted his head.
Pit dropped.
Not falling—diving.
He twisted midair, arrow already nocked, and fired point-blank. The shot didn't explode, didn't pierce—just hit, pure force condensed into light.
Mr. Game & Watch was knocked back, sliding across the stage in a flat arc.
Mr. Game & Watch: 14%
For the first time, the Apex was pushed instead of deciding.
In the winner's wing, Ren took a slow sip of coffee. "There it is."
Sephiroth's single wing rustled. "He's stopped playing defensively."
Back on the stage, Pit landed lightly, wings folding behind him.
He scratched his cheek, almost sheepish. "Sorry. I'm used to fighting gods who cheat harder than this."
Mr. Game & Watch raised his sign again.
The match wasn't over.
But for the first time—
The Apex was reacting.
And Pit, ancient angel of a forgotten war, smiled like he'd finally found something fun.
Mr. Game & Watch's flat, black silhouette froze for half a second.
Then the 9 flipped toward Pit.
The stadium collectively inhaled.
Palutena's grip on the railing tightened.
Viridi swore under her breath.
Pandora leaned forward, eyes sharp instead of playful.
Phosphora actually stopped smiling.
Pit, however, just… blinked.
"Oh," he said. "That one."
The hammer came down.
The impact rang like a bell struck by God.
Pit's body shot across the stage, skipping once, twice, before slamming into the far platform hard enough to crack stone. Dust billowed. The screen zoomed in immediately.
Pit: 28%
Mr. Game & Watch: 2%
The crowd erupted.
Wario whistled. "WAH. Angel boy finally bleeds."
Meta Knight, watching from the opposite side of the arena, narrowed his eyes. "Interesting. He absorbed it."
Back on the stage, Pit groaned as he pushed himself up on one elbow.
"Ow… okay, yeah, that one does hurt."
Mr. Game & Watch didn't give him time to recover. He flattened himself, slid forward like a living shadow, and swung again—this time with a bell. The sound rang out, sharp and absolute.
Pit vanished in a flash of light.
For a fraction of a second, it looked like a guaranteed follow-up.
Then golden wings snapped open midair.
Pit reappeared above the stage, feathers scattering like sparks. He twisted, righted himself, and landed lightly on a pillar that hadn't existed a moment ago—conjured from divine energy without even thinking about it.
"…Huh," Pit muttered. "Guess Lady Palutena loosened more than one seal."
Mr. Game & Watch paused.
Just a pause—but enough.
Pit drew his bow.
Not the playful, rapid-fire kind he usually used.
This arrow formed slowly, light spiraling around it, symbols older than Smash itself flickering along the shaft. The audience felt it before they understood it—a pressure, like standing too close to a cathedral bell.
From the stands, Red's eyes sharpened.
"That's not Smash energy," he said quietly. "That's myth."
Palutena closed her eyes. "Pit… don't overdo it."
Pit exhaled, smiling despite the tension.
"Don't worry. I'm not aiming to win."
He released.
The arrow didn't explode.
Didn't pierce.
Didn't even hit.
It rang.
A pure, conceptual note rippled across the stage, warping the flat lines of Mr. Game & Watch's body, forcing him back step by step until his feet reached the edge.
The screen updated in real time.
Mr. Game & Watch: 18%
The crowd lost it.
Mr. Game & Watch steadied himself, then slowly lifted another sign.
This time—
8.
Pit sighed. "Yeah… figured."
High above, in the announcer's booth, Sora leaned forward, elbows on the glass, grinning.
"Yep," he said to Kirby. "That's the match. Apex versus relic."
Kirby blinked.
"Poyo?"
Sora laughed.
"Trust me. This is about to get really weird."
One pit Arrow hit, everything rang like a bell, as there was dust and broken pieces of the ring everywhere.
The arena went quiet.
Not the excited kind of quiet.
The wrong kind.
Dust hung in the air where the arrow strike had landed. Broken stone floated for half a second before gravity remembered it existed and dragged everything down.
Pit clung to the ledge, wings strained, breath sharp in his chest.
The screen above flickered once… then stabilized.
Pit: 67%
Mr. Game & Watch: 67%
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then the camera cut to Mr. Game & Watch.
His outline jittered unnaturally as his missing arm re-drew itself frame by frame, his body repairing with the same calm inevitability as a paused animation resuming play. He lifted his sign again.
This time, it wasn't a number.
It was a simple drawing.
A crown.
Pit pulled himself back onto the platform, boots scraping stone. He stared at the screen, then at his opponent, then let out a slow breath.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Red wasn't kidding."
In the winner's wing, Palutena's grip tightened on the railing.
"That wasn't just power," she said quietly. "That was authority."
Viridi crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. "He didn't overpower Pit. He corrected him."
Phosphora swallowed. "That's worse."
Amazon Pandora leaned forward, teeth clenched. "Pit's fought gods before."
Palutena didn't look away from the screen.
"Yes," she said softly. "But this one isn't a god."
Back on the stage, Mr. Game & Watch stepped forward.
Each movement was stiff, mechanical—yet perfectly timed. The hammer vanished. In its place, a flat black key appeared, turning once in the air before snapping into his hand.
Pit raised his bow again, light gathering along its string.
"Hey," Pit called out, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just so you know—"
He loosed the arrow.
It split into three midair, then six, then twelve, a radiant spiral screaming toward its target.
Mr. Game & Watch did not dodge.
He pressed the key into the air.
Reality clicked.
The arrows froze.
Not slowed.
Not deflected.
Paused.
Then the screen flashed.
All twelve arrows inverted direction at once.
Pit's eyes widened. "—that's cheating."
The blast hurled him backward, skidding across the platform, wings flaring instinctively to keep him upright. Stone cracked beneath his heels.
The numbers updated.
Pit: 89%
Mr. Game & Watch: 67%
Sora leaned forward in the announcer booth, elbows on the desk now.
"…Okay," he said, voice unusually serious. "That's not a move set."
Kirby tilted his head.
"That's a rule."
Pit straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as golden seals along his arms flickered—straining, cracking, but still holding.
He looked at his opponent.
Then he smiled.
"Alright," he said, planting his feet. "My turn to stop playing fair."
From the stands, Palutena closed her eyes for half a second.
"…Pit," she whispered, "don't make me regret loosening that seal."
The air around the angel began to glow.
And for the first time since the match began—
Mr. Game & Watch stopped moving.
"Pit No!".
A Voice rang to the crowd, as the air around the pit stopped glowing.
He looked up to see a Disappointed Palutena, in the stand, as Pit sighed.
Pit made a nervous laugh as he spoke. "Sorry".
Palutena looked at him as she spoke. "Come back, your not hurting your body using that, without all seals unsealed".
Pit then walked off the stage and eliminated him self.
The arena went silent.
Pit stepped back from the ledge, wings folding in as the glow around his body faded completely. The crowd hadn't even realized it yet—but the goddesses had.
Palutena was already standing.
Her expression wasn't angry.
That somehow made it worse.
"Pit," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly across the arena, calm but firm. "That power is sealed for a reason. You are not tearing your body apart for a tournament."
Pit laughed weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Heh… yeah. Kinda figured you'd say that."
Mr. Game & Watch tilted his flat head, the jagged hole in his side continuing to regenerate with simple, looping animations. He raised a small question-mark sign.
Pit looked at him, then at the stands—at Viridi biting her lip, Phosphora hovering anxiously, Pandora unusually quiet.
He exhaled.
"If I can't use that," Pit muttered, mostly to himself, "then I don't really have a way to beat an Apex, do I?"
He straightened, walked calmly toward the center of the stage, and raised a hand.
"I forfeit."
The declaration echoed.
For a second, nobody reacted.
Then the stadium erupted.
Some booed. Some gasped. Some laughed in disbelief. Others—especially the older, stronger fighters—went silent, understanding exactly what Pit had just done.
Sora leaned forward in the announcer booth, keyblade resting against his shoulder.
"…Match concluded," he said after a moment. "Winner: Mr. Game & Watch."
The flat fighter raised a little flag that read WIN, then paused, turned to Pit, and gave a simple thumbs-up.
Pit smiled back. "Yeah. You earned it."
In the stands, Palutena finally relaxed, sitting back down as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders.
Viridi clicked her tongue. "Idiot angel. Noble idiot angel."
Phosphora crossed her arms. "He would've won if he went all out."
Pandora shook her head. "And might not have been able to walk afterward."
Palutena closed her eyes briefly. "Exactly."
Back in the winner's wing—now technically the spectator wing—Pit barely had time to react before he was hit from all sides.
Palutena pulled him into a tight hug first.
Viridi followed, arms crossed but leaning against him anyway.
Phosphora wrapped around his arm like a cat.
Pandora simply pressed her forehead against his back.
"…You didn't lose," Palutena said softly. "You chose wisely."
Pit chuckled. "Still feels like losing."
Pandora smirked. "You faced an Apex, survived, and walked away on your own terms."
Phosphora grinned. "That's kind of hot, actually."
Pit froze. "Please don't say that right now."
Viridi snorted. "Too late."
Across the arena, Wario was being absolutely dismantled by Meta Knight.
"This is BULL—" clang "—SHI—" KO
Meta Knight landed cleanly, cape settling as the announcer declared his victory.
Sora glanced down at the bracket.
"So," he said casually, "final match is set."
Meta Knight vs Mr. Game & Watch.
He looked toward Pit, meeting the angel's eyes.
"And Pit?"
Pit raised an eyebrow.
Sora smiled. "You just proved why you don't need to win to be terrifying."
Kirby clapped.
The Bingo card Mega Man had been quietly filling out somewhere gained another circle
Meanwhile, deep inside the Smash House—far from the arenas and cheering crowds—the tone was colder.
Snake stood in front of a glass display wall, arms crossed. A digital profile hovered in the air: PIT. Beneath it scrolled a familiar classification scale.
SAFE — EUCLID — KETER — THAUMIEL — APOLLYON
Snake tapped the screen, making the categories cycle.
"So," he muttered, gravelly voice low, "where do I file the kid?"
Ren leaned against the wall nearby, coffee in hand, glasses reflecting the light of the display. He didn't look surprised by the question—only thoughtful.
"Keter," Ren said calmly. "For now."
Snake glanced sideways. "That cautious, huh?"
Ren nodded once. "We've seen sealed strength. Partial releases. Instinctive restraint." He took a sip. "But not intent. Not desperation."
A faint sound followed—slow, deliberate footsteps.
Sephiroth stopped beside them, silver hair catching the light. His green eyes lingered on Pit's profile longer than the others'.
"Keter implies containment is necessary," Sephiroth said. "Not merely recommended."
Ren met his gaze. "Correct."
Snake exhaled smoke. "Then what's got you hesitating?"
Ren's expression darkened—not with fear, but recognition.
"He walked away," Ren said. "Against an Apex. Not because he was beaten… but because he chose not to become something worse."
That made Snake pause.
Sephiroth's lips curved slightly—not a smile, but interest.
"And Apollyon?" Sephiroth asked. "You wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't on the table."
Ren was silent for a moment.
"Potential only," he said finally. "Not trajectory."
Snake raised an eyebrow. "Difference?"
"All the difference in the multiverse."
The screen shifted again, Pit's image flickering—angelic, smiling, wings half-spread.
"He doesn't want to be a god," Ren continued. "That's what makes him dangerous. And what keeps him human."
Sephiroth folded his arms.
"…Then if he ever stops holding back," he said softly, "it won't be ambition that drives him."
Snake turned off the display.
"No," Snake agreed. "It'll be love."
The room fell quiet.
Somewhere else in the Smash House, Pit was being smothered by goddesses, teased, kissed, and told—over and over—that losing didn't matter.
And none of them realized just how close he'd come to changing everything.
To be continued
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