The Bellators

4:11:3

 Blindingly bright is the cyan light that consumes the entire field of view, stretching past the edges of eyesight, leaving nothing to contrast the intense pallet. That light is not a single flat tone, but rather an animated canvas of bright dancing flames over a darker backdrop, though with so many layers of flames they compound to lessen the specs of significant darker portions. There are some spots with so many layers in fact that they result in a nearly white blob with no direction of its own, simply expanding and shrinking as a sum of its components. There is no sound of this mammoth light, for it is a silent source that emits blazes orthogonal to its surface, blazes bursting out which triggers a few bright spots in their place too from quick spikes of energy. A chaotic eternal flame raging in silence, wide enough that the chaos can spread to every peripheral corner.

This is the first abrupt sight Meditat experiences, causing him to instinctually raise his hand to partially block the light even though his eyes are already protected by the parallelogram lenses of his white mask, a stark contrast from the gloomy gray atmosphere he was under just a second ago before a black flash swept over him. The cruel joke impacts him in a secondary wave upon the recognition of this entity, that being the great supersun at close proximity, uncomfortably close that flashes of memories infused with the sensation of agonizing burning pierces Meditat, a panic that he stumbles back from, though his movements are oddly slow in an almost graceful manner, his cape lifting gradually in a stretched timescale in reaction to his body's movements.

Taking notice to the strange drag of his own movements, Meditat lowers his head to find the ground beneath his feet is no longer the white snow of the mountain, as while this surface has a similar color, it is in fact the gray stone of the Moon, small pebbles by his feet far smaller than the dunes further ahead which reside behind great craters: the gray desert. He hadn't even realized he was no longer breathing oxygen straight from nature, his breathing quickening but luckily without being cut off. That doesn't vastly lessen the wave of bewildered panic that sweeps him, as he can tell that this is not just any Moon, but given the sheer devouring scale of the sun, it has to be the Moon of the most intimate Earth, the very Moon he found himself naturally hurdling into his brother on not long ago. From being on the surface at the very rim of the Superverse to standing beside the very center, a great distance traveled instantaneously, questions rain into Meditat's head as he lifts his forearm in preparation to make a request: "Orial, wha-."

"Meditat Viatorem, we can now speak freely without obstructions," interjects a voice, deep but not particularly that of a masculine human or that of a heavily digitized audio synthesizer, but instead more akin to the bottomless weight of an ocean's hum, echoing as if it was being spoken from many directions all at once to surround the man who immediately spins around to the direction where that echo is the loudest: right behind him. Upon swiveling, Meditat is greeted by the sight of the towering figure in the rock armor over the black conduit for the bright white streams that flow like the textures of a river. It stands over the desolate gray desert, the only environment that can be seen behind it being those dunes and craters, and above it there is the very opposite of that first view: an absolutely dark canvas that being the bleak cosmos which does have spots of brightness in terms of the sprinkles of stars and streaks of nebulas, however the backdrop is still substantially darker than the one that was just being stared at. Partially obscured by the surface and the figure is one orb with a mixture of colors across the rainbow, green and brown shapes over a blue base wrapped around in white swirls, Earth One so beautiful yet distant.

Now stumbling in the direction of the sun that blankets about half of the lunar sky, a primitive instinct to distance from what has now become the greatest threat currently present, Meditat lowers his head and contemplates, "That name...why does it sound familiar," though begins to raise both arms with shut fists upon the decision, "No, that's not relevant." The frosty crystals lacing his knuckles flare up in preparation for battle as he coldly analyzes, "I assume you have the ability to instantaneously transport, you pulled us rather far from the rest of my team, perhaps excessively just to avoid their strike ranges."