The docks echoed with the low groans of the Desert Fangs scattered across the ground. Rylenne had crushed them without breaking a sweat, leaving no clue as to how her strange power truly worked.
"Well then," she said, her toes lightly drumming against the sand in a steady rhythm. "Shall we settle this properly and agree you'll release those two, bandits?"
But Zevros remained unfazed, his determination unshaken.
"I'm afraid not," he replied coolly. "The men you flattened were nothing more than fodder, mere test dummies. They were never meant to put up a fight—just to fill out our ranks. Since you've interfered with my unit, I can't simply let you walk away. The king himself tasked us with this mission, and from what I see, the three of you are working together. That makes you a threat to this land. And threats…" His eyes sharpened. "…must be eliminated. We'll deliver that message straight to the king."
Momentarily, Rylenne looked at Zevros with a raised brow, then gave a small, confident smile. "Hey now. No need to make more trouble. I was just passing by and saw you guys going after this old man. He's not a threat, and you were about to take him like he did something wrong. I've been keeping an eye on these two, and they haven't done anything to deserve this."
She tapped the sand lightly with her toes, her movements smooth and deliberate, giving off that calm, collected vibe. "Relax. You don't need to get worked up over them—they're fine. You're just misjudging the situation."
Zevros' gaze didn't waver, still cold beneath the mask. "It's not your call. This isn't about what you think. The king decides these things, and my duty is to follow his orders."
She chuckled softly, tilting her head with her eyes closed like she was trying to keep the peace, her voice smooth and easy. Still, Zevros wasn't buying the harmony she was laying down.
Rylenne's half-smile faltered just slightly, but she didn't look away. She crossed her arms, her voice still casual though her tone pressed a little harder.
"Funny how you talk like you don't have a say in it. You're swinging the sword, not him. The king's not standin' here right now. Just you."
That got a brief pause from Zevros, though his face stayed unreadable. Venos shifted uncomfortably, and Rhyven's lips curved with the ghost of a grin, as if he found Rylenne's pushback a little too amusing.
Zevros didn't flinch, his expression carved from stone. "It doesn't matter who swings the sword. It matters who commands it. That is the order of things."
Rylenne's smile softened slightly, her posture relaxed as she shifted her weight on the sand. "You're just doing your job, but that doesn't mean this guy deserved the rough treatment."
The desert wind swept across the empty dock, stirring sand along the weathered planks. Rhyven stood a step back from the others, hands folded loosely behind his back. His eyes drifted—and then froze.
"…Wait." His voice lowered, edged with surprise. "That's—" He stepped closer, eyes widening. "That's him."
Their gaze followed to the figure lying against the sand, white hair stark against the sun-baked dunes.
"The Phoenix Pirate…" Rhyven's tone mixed disbelief with recognition. He crouched slightly, studying the motionless figure. "He's here...? But… what happened to him?"
Only the quiet desert answered. Temoshí remained unconscious, chest rising and falling faintly, his presence reduced to a fragile, silent form before their eyes.
Rylenne fell silent for a moment, watching what Rhyven had discovered and slowly realizing the weight of it. Behind her, Venos—still tied—quickly understood as well. The name Temoshí had begun to spread across the world, reaching far more ears than any of them expected.
Breaking the silence, Rylenne cut in sharply. "Get lost. Don't stand near him. You're untrustworthy." Her voice had taken on a firmer edge, aimed squarely at her opponents. She noticed Rhyven rise to his feet, turning to face her.
"I don't intend to harm him any further," he said calmly. "But he's coming with us. We'll have to bring him to the king."
Rylenne's expression hardened, disapproval flickering across her features as she stepped forward. "Don't even think about it. Leave him here. He's not a threat—can't you see that?" She held herself steady, her words carrying composure, though a hint of concern still slipped through.
Rhyven straightened his posture, arms folding across his chest. His voice stayed calm, almost curious.
"So you're really going to stand in our way? Protecting someone who doesn't even know you exist. Why? You're not working for the king, and you don't look like you're from our country… so who are you, really?"
Rylenne didn't look the slightest bit shaken. If she had to fight, she would, though part of what he said wasn't wrong. She was protecting someone who didn't even know her—and she barely knew him herself. Still, she held firm to her choice.
"I'm doing this because you've got it all wrong," she said lightly, her words flowing without tension. "The old man wasn't hurting him. He was keeping him safe. That's the truth. And I'm not about to let you twist it."
Zevros lifted an arm in front of Rhyven, halting him with a single, deliberate motion. His voice was steady, measured, carrying the weight of calculation.
"Enough. Don't waste your breath. Rhyven—go to Iron Messa. If this man's willing to shield a pirate, then it's likely not just chance. There could be more of them moving in the shadows, and I want to know where. Iron Messa is too vital to leave unchecked—if they've set their eyes there, it means they're testing boundaries, probing for weakness. Every move they make is deliberate, and if we fail to anticipate the next, we'll be the ones playing catch-up. So watch carefully, and bring back more than just names—bring patterns. I want to know not just who, but why."
Venos finally found his courage, his voice steady but carrying a quiet edge.
"You've got it wrong. The ones you're hunting… they're not bad people. They're not what you think."
Zevros' eyes sharpened, his calculating expression giving away nothing but quiet satisfaction at the slip. He folded his hands behind his back as if he'd been waiting for it.
"So. There are others, after all. You've just confirmed it." His tone was like a teacher catching a student in a lie, patient but merciless.
Rylenne pressed her palm to her forehead with a groan. "…You absolute idiot." She looked at Venos first, frustration flickering in her eyes, then turned sharply toward Zevros, her demeanor shifting like a dancer's playful rhythm snapping into perfect form. Her casual air was gone, replaced by something firmer, a grounded seriousness that left no doubt.
"Guess that's it, then. I can't just stand by now." She stepped forward, her stance loose but focused, her voice calm but edged with resolve. "Zevros… looks like I'll be the one fighting you."
Rylenne dropped her hand from her forehead and grew uncharacteristically quiet, her usual playful tone fading into a hard, steady calm. Her feet began to press and shift into the sand, each tap soft and deliberate, almost rhythmic, like she was keeping time to a melody only she could hear.
The ground didn't stir at first, but faint tremors soon whispered through the dunes, hidden pulses spreading outward in subtle waves beneath Zevros and Rhyven's boots. The grains of sand shifted just slightly, almost unnoticeable, as though the desert itself had taken a breath.
Zevros' sharp gaze flicked downward. He stilled, his calculating mind already piecing together what that meant. A faint curl of a smirk tugged his lips as his arms slowly folded across his chest.
"So," he murmured, his voice even and edged with anticipation, "you've chosen your stance. I wondered how long it would take before you stopped with the banter."
The air grew tense, the subtle rhythm of Rylenne's feet against the sand promising that she was done talking.
Rylenne's rhythmic tapping abruptly ceased. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause—the sand frozen beneath her feet, the wind stilled in midair. Then, with a deep inhale, she lifted her hands, palms facing outward, and a sudden pulse erupted from her, a shockwave that rippled outward with a resonance that rattled the very air.
The ground quaked violently as the dunes themselves seemed to peel back, and a radiant, vibrating portal tore open at her center. From it poured an impossible landscape—a dimension that felt alive with sound and rhythm. The sky shimmered like molten brass and liquid crystal, auroras twisting in waves that pulsed in time with invisible beats. Colors were no longer static; they danced across the horizon, flowing like a symphony you could see.
Floating shards of light spun in patterns reminiscent of musical notes, orbiting each other in grand, chaotic harmonies. Every pulse Rylenne made made the shards resonate, sending echoes like deep bass thumps and high-pitched chimes that could be felt in your chest as much as heard. The dunes around them twisted into surreal shapes—giant, translucent piano keys rising from the sand, strings of light stretching across the horizon, vibrating like harp strings, each note shimmering as if painted in fire.
Rhythmic waves of energy rolled outward like invisible tides, carrying patterns of sound into tangible form. In the distance, colossal structures floated like musical instruments suspended in midair—grand organs, brass horns, and stringed towers whose vibrations warped reality itself. Each pulse sent ripples through the dimension, bending light and sound together in a magnificent, overwhelming dance of chaos and harmony.
Rylenne stood at the epicenter, utterly still, her expression calm but electrifying. The portal's edges swirled like a storm of glittering notes, forming spiraling tendrils that reached into the sky and dug into the dunes. With each subtle motion of her hands, the dimension expanded further, consuming the dock and the nearby sands, stretching outward like the crescendo of a colossal symphony.
Zevros and Rhyven's eyes widened, the weight of what they faced hitting them in a rush—this was no longer a battlefield. It was a living orchestra, a dimension where music was a force of reality, and Rylenne was its conductor.
Zevros and Rhyven stepped back, eyes wide as the dunes seemed to warp around them. Floating instruments, glowing ribbons of light, and waves of sound stretched across the sky, twisting the world into impossible shapes.
"What… what is this?" Rhyven muttered, scanning the surreal scene.
Zevros' voice was sharper now, laced with tension. "How… how is she doing this?!"
The ground pulsed beneath them with subtle shockwaves, harmonics vibrating through their bones, and every movement of Rylenne's sent new streams of light and sound cascading outward.
Rhyven's jaw tightened. "It's like… the world itself is dancing to her will."
Rylenne stood perfectly still, calm and confident, letting the pulse of her music-dimension ripple outward, her eyes glinting as the very environment bent to her rhythm.
The dimension erupted into a living, breathing concert hall—except it wasn't ordinary. The infinite space was lined with shifting mirrors that reflected every angle of Rylenne's movements, multiplying her image across walls, floors, and floating panels. Cameras hovered, invisible yet omnipresent, zooming in and out, capturing her every stomp, kick, and spin, projecting them across the dimension like a live broadcast of the ultimate performance.
Notes and music lines floated in midair, wrapping around her in arcs, crackling and pulsing with every beat. Each stomp of her feet sent shockwaves through the dimension, which rippled across mirrored surfaces, creating afterimages of her in dozens of places at once.
Rylenne moved, hyped and raw—spinning through the air, flipping off floating platforms, smashing kicks through lines of music, and sliding under arcs of glowing notes. Every motion left blazing afterimages that bounced off mirrors, multiplying her silhouettes in an endless, dazzling kaleidoscope.
The "cameras" in the dimension tracked her flawlessly, cutting angles as if showing a choreographed music video in real time. One moment she was flipping high above the floor, another she slammed a kick into a floating note, the impact echoed in a rainbow explosion of sound and light across all reflections.
Venos, tied and gawking, could only mutter, "W-What… is happening? She's… she's everywhere!" Sweat rolled down his face as mirrors showed infinite Rylennes moving in sync yet independently, a hypnotic blur of energy and rhythm.
The Desert Fangs and Zevros were frozen, their eyes darting to dozens of reflections, trying to follow a single Rylenne only to be overwhelmed by the spectacle. The walls of the dimension seemed to bend and stretch with every spin and stomp, creating a stage that was alive, reacting to her energy.
Then Rylenne snapped her fingers. A massive pulse radiated outward, each mirror reflecting exploding bursts of light and sound. Her multiple silhouettes slammed the mirrored floor and walls in perfect unison, sending shockwaves of music surging in every direction.
The dimension wasn't just a battlefield—it was a full-on performance, a show of chaos and mastery, a spectacle that made her presence impossible to ignore. Cameras, mirrors, and infinite reflections all told the same story: Rylenne was untouchable, every movement amplified, every strike synchronized to the rhythm of her unstoppable, hype-driven dance.
"Guess it's time to steal the spotlight."
To be continued...