94 Madlad #94

"Well? I'm waiting," Micah interjected impatiently, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. Metron, ever composed, embarked on his explanation.

"It may be challenging to accept, even for me, but I did not stumble upon the origin of your power through my own inquiries. Someone informed me..." he trailed off, leaving a notable pause hanging in the air. "And that informant is none other than yourself," he declared matter-of-factly, his tone unwavering.

Micah stared at Metron incredulously for a few beats, a bemused chuckle eventually escaping his lips. "So, not only are you almost omniscient and all-powerful, but you're a comedian too?" he quipped dismissively.

"Though your comedic timing could use some work... honestly, this joke of yours falls flat," he added, casting a contemptuous glance in Metron's direction. He certainly didn't recall ever divulging such information, nor did he have any gaps or discrepancies in his memory.

His mental defenses were up and functioning, ruling out any possibility of brainwashing or psychic manipulation. So, the notion of him willingly sharing such details seemed preposterous.

Sensing Micah's inner turmoil, Metron allowed a hint of amusement to creep into his expression, momentarily breaking his stoic facade. "There's no need for 'you' to overanalyze it," he reassured, emphasizing the word 'you'.

"The version of 'you,' the one standing before me, didn't disclose the source of your power to me or anyone else," he clarified, his tone cryptic. "It was another iteration of 'you'—a future incarnation, to be precise—who willingly provided me with this insight."

Micah couldn't help but stare at Metron with wide eyes for a few moments, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of what had just been revealed. He brought a hand to his temple, feeling the telltale signs of an impending headache creeping in. In a strange way, Metron's words did make some semblance of sense.

Throughout his existence, Micah had been exceedingly cautious about divulging the true extent of his abilities. While it was widely known that he possessed extraordinary powers, including the potential to acquire even more, the notion that these abilities were derived from an omnipotent system capable of granting any wish or desire shouldn't have been so easily deduced.

After all, Micah had been meticulous in guarding this particular secret. Yet, here he was, faced with the undeniable truth that someone—namely, a future version of himself—had chosen to reveal this closely guarded secret.

The concept of time travel was inherently perplexing and headache-inducing, and Micah found himself grappling with the implications of this revelation. With Metron's ability to traverse both time and space, it stood to reason that such a disclosure from a future iteration of himself could have repercussions on his present—or past—self, depending on the chronology of events.

Just the mere thought of it was enough to intensify Micah's headache. Time travel was indeed a troublesome subject, fraught with complexities and paradoxes that defied conventional logic.

However, even as Micah struggled to come to terms with the situation, one question lingered in his mind: Why would his future self choose to divulge such a sensitive secret?

Surely, his future self hadn't forgotten his comic book knowledge, nor had he overlooked the fact that Metron possessed the ability to traverse time and space.

Was it a careless slip of the tongue, a casual taunt directed at a future version of Metron that had inadvertently led to this headache-inducing predicament? The possibility gnawed at Micah's thoughts, leaving him pondering the motivations behind his own future actions and even cursing his future self.

After a futile attempt to wrack his brain for an explanation, Micah threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why in the bloody hell would my future self do something so utterly stupid?" He vented, shooting a pointed glare at Metron, his frustration palpable. "Do you have any inkling?" he pressed, hoping for some insight.

Metron's response was predictably unhelpful as he shook his head. "I'm afraid not... the motives of your future self are as perplexing as they come, and even you seem at a loss to decipher them," he admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration.

"He appeared before me one day, divulging everything... I attempted to apprehend and dissect the source of his powers, but he proved to be too formidable," Metron elaborated, his expression betraying a hint of frustration.

"Yet, you, his past counterpart, though powerful in your own right, pale in comparison. Thus, it became clear to me that you were the key to achieving my objective."

Micah's features darkened instantly at Metron's explanation. "So let me get this straight... you got your ass handed to you by my future self, and your brilliant solution was to travel back in time, manipulate a bunch of idiots to ambush me, all the while thinking you could handle me with ease?" he seethed, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Metron's solemn nod only served to stoke the flames of Micah's fury to new heights. "Well, congratulations, you've successfully managed to piss me off. I'd intended to take things slow and play with you for a bit, but now..." he spat, his voice dripping with venom. Purple tendrils of energy began to crackle around him as his form underwent a dark transformation.

"I'm going to kill you, and then I'll hunt down my future self and give him the thrashing of a lifetime once I'm through with you," he vowed, his skin taking on an obsidian hue, horns sprouting from his forehead, and a third eye, filled with swirling stars, opening between them.

Micah extended his hand, conjuring a flickering rift that trembled on the brink of collapse. With Metron's technology suppressing Micah's powers, particularly his bloodline's connection to space, this was the best he could manage. However, the rift's stability mattered less than what lay within—a potent energy that instantly put Metron on edge.

Metron's initial instinct was to teleport away, but he hesitated. He'd gone to great lengths to ensnare Micah, and fleeing now meant abandoning everything. "What... what are you attempting to do?" Metron demanded, his voice betraying a mixture of shock and apprehension.

Micah's grin was predatory as he locked eyes with Metron. "Remember Parasite?" he queried, not bothering to wait for a response. "He died miserably after biting on more than he could ever chew. But you didn't think all those powers he swallowed went up in smoke, did you?" His tone was manic, eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

"There were a ton of conflicting powers that would never coexist... where do you think they went when Parasite blew up into a thousand pieces?" he taunted, the rift teetering on the brink of chaos as violent energy surged forth. "I had to seal everything in a pocket dimension or an entire content would have blown up to high heavens at the very least, but now, I'll gift these powers to you..."

The fabric of space began to fracture under the rift's pressure, alarm bells ringing out in the training facility as power systems malfunctioned.

Suddenly, all power within the facility flickered and died, plunging the area into momentary darkness. When emergency lights flickered to life, the rift was already on the verge of collapse, ready to unleash all the energy contained within it.

Finally grasping the gravity of the situation, Metron reluctantly conceded defeat. With a grimace, he activated the Mobius chair and summoned a portal, prepared to make a swift exit and avoid any further encounters with the unpredictable Micah. However, his portal dissipated before he could even step through it.

Micah's grin stretched wider as he observed Metron's failed attempt. "Running won't do you any good now... with this much energy seeping out of the pocket dimension, even space itself is becoming unstable," he chortled, his voice strained as he fought to contain the unruly rift and prevent the explosive release of its contained power.

"You've got two options: try to fly away with that nifty chair of yours, or try to contain the rift," he offered. "But believe me when I say you'll never outrun this kind of shockwave, even if you had ten more legs..." he warned, easing his suppression of the pocket dimension slightly to underscore his point.

Sensing the escalating surge of energy emanating from the rift, Metron clenched his jaw and propelled himself towards Micah, activating his Mobius chair to erect an energy barrier around the rift. "You... you're utterly mad," he muttered through gritted teeth, straining to maintain the barrier against the mounting pressure.