The reflections of Rylenne's movements shimmered through the strange, vibrant music—an entire world painted in color and energy, so unlike the dullness of their homeland.
Rhyven clenched his jaw, realizing this wouldn't be simple. Unless they uncovered a weakness, defeating her seemed nearly impossible. "She's no pushover… but I still can't grasp the full scope of her power."
The kaleidoscopic world pulsed to the beat of her rhythm. Every sound, every hum, every flick of her body sent ripples through the dimension itself. Zevros steadied himself, exhaling as he gathered wind around him—only to feel it slip through his fingers like sand. His eyes narrowed. The air didn't obey him here. It bent to her.
Rylenne spun midair, her sneakers tapping against invisible steps as glowing mirrors flared across the walls of the dimension. From every reflection, copies of her moves fractured outward, creating afterimages that weren't illusions—they were real. When she snapped her fingers, those reflections kicked forward, releasing shockwaves of music like detonations of bass.
"Welcome to my stage," she grinned, sliding across a massive floating music note that curved into a hoverboard beneath her. Each step she made left trails of neon light that hung in the air, shaping into solid constructs—bridges, walls, and jagged soundwave platforms that forced Rhyven and Zevros into unpredictable footing.
Rhyven lunged, blade raised, but Rylenne stomped her foot. The ground spun like a rotating vinyl disc, throwing him off balance. With a flourish of her arm, the mirrored walls bent inward, reflecting him from every angle—making it impossible to track her real movements.
"Too slow!" She cartwheeled, her kick splitting into five kicks at once, each one dropping glowing platforms beneath Rhyven and launching him upward into a cage of shimmering staff lines. They tightened like prison bars, vibrating with each musical note.
Zevros tried again, summoning a burst of wind to break the bars, but they only absorbed the gust, twisting it into a cyclone that danced around Rylenne like a stage spotlight. She leapt onto it, spinning with the storm, her movements syncing with the rhythm until the cyclone itself turned into a whirling column of soundwaves she hurled straight at them.
Zevros tried to summon a surge of wind around him to stabilize, to regain his footing, but the air refused to answer — smothered by the strange rhythm thrumming through the dimension. The beat pulsed in his chest, syncing to his heartbeat, bending even his breath to Rylenne's tempo.
Her grin widened as she spun, snapping her fingers — the entire battlefield tilted like a spinning stage. Platforms rose and fell to the beat of invisible drums, catching Rhyven and Zevros off guard.
Rhyven slammed his fists into the shifting ground, trying to anchor himself, sparks crackling from the sheer force. He launched forward with raw strength, each punch creating shockwaves that cracked the strange neon floor beneath him. But Rylenne simply laughed, pirouetting as she conjured a ripple of glowing notes beneath her feet, riding them like a hoverboard across the tilted battlefield.
"You two are dancing to my song now!" she teased, voice carrying like an echo through amplifiers.
A massive treble clef materialized out of light and sound, slamming down between them like a hammer. Rhyven braced his arms, catching the impact with raw strength, muscles straining as he shoved the construct aside with a roar. Zevros tried to flank, but Rylenne spun midair, dragging her heel across invisible strings — and a wall of blinding chords erupted, knocking him back like a tidal wave of sound.
Platforms sprouted beneath Rhyven, but they weren't his allies — they locked his footing, holding him in place as the floor itself rotated. His balance faltered as Rylenne leaned back and clapped once — the rhythm shifted, forcing his body to stagger to her tempo. He swung his fists in defiance, shattering through the glowing shackles, but every movement felt heavier, like the beat itself was weighing him down.
Zevros pushed back with bursts of raw force, trying to generate wind by striking at the air, but every gust was swallowed into the melody, twisted into harmonies that reinforced Rylenne's control.
Then she stomped, and the entire world inverted — platforms flipped upside down, stairways spun into spirals, and massive bass drops sent shockwaves that rattled their bones. She rode the chaos effortlessly, surfing glowing notes that bent gravity to her will.
Rhyven lunged again, fists swinging with meteoric strength, but Rylenne ducked low, sliding across a glowing bar of music, and with a playful flick of her wrist she summoned dozens of floating speakers that blasted synchronized shockwaves. Each beat threw them off-balance, slamming them across the twisting stage.
"You boys keep fighting," she smirked, striking a pose mid-spin, "but in here, I own the rhythm."
The two men refused to stand frozen like dolls in Rylenne's stage show.
Zevros darted forward first, his fist whipping up currents of air even without his full wind control. He went for speed, a flurry of rapid strikes meant to corner her. At the same time, Rhyven charged low, a streak of raw force behind his movements, aiming to catch her off-guard with a sweeping kick.
Rylenne only grinned, twirling on her toes as the world itself shifted in rhythm with her spin. The floor tilted diagonally, dragging both men off-balance while a curtain of glowing strings—like the frets of some invisible guitar—snapped into place between them and her. Their attacks met the vibrating barrier, sparks bursting out as if they had punched a living instrument.
"Too stiff, boys," she teased, leaping onto a flowing ribbon of treble clef notes that unfurled beneath her like a hoverboard. She glided effortlessly along it, pirouetting mid-air as her dimension obeyed her command.
Rhyven snarled, pushing through the destabilizing floor with brute strength. He lunged and swung again, his fists breaking through the guitar-string barrier, shattering it into motes of sound. Zevros followed, spinning into a sharp elbow strike aimed for Rylenne's chest.
But Rylenne bent the world again—the battlefield rotated like the turn of a record. Gravity betrayed them. Instead of hitting her, both men were yanked sideways, crashing into a wall that had just become the "floor." She laughed, tapping her foot, and the wall pulsed like a drumhead, bouncing them back into the air.
Before they could recover, she clapped her hands. A stage light swung down from the void above, blindingly bright, and with it a rain of glowing notes pelted toward them like arrows. Zevros tried shielding with a burst of wind, but the notes bent around his defense, homing in with playful cruelty.
Rhyven roared, swatting and breaking through them, his strikes shattering notes like glass, but Rylenne had already vanished, twirling into another ribbon of melody that whisked her away out of reach.
"She's not just slippery," Zevros growled, pulling himself upright. "She's the stage, the rhythm, the whole damn performance."
And still, Rylenne danced above, spinning like a comet in a world where every sound bent to her will.
Zevros lunged again, this time refusing to underestimate her. His strikes were sharp, controlled, each gust of displaced air meant to corner her. Rhyven circled to flank, his fists cutting through the rhythm, aiming to break her flow. Yet Rylenne's steps only grew sharper, her body twirling just out of reach, the sway of her hips and the snap of her arms pulling her into a tempo neither of them could follow. Every dodge was a flourish, every strike she slipped past became another beat in her dance.
"You move like smoke," Zevros muttered through clenched teeth, his violet-gray eyes narrowing. "Always just out of reach."
Rylenne smirked, sliding into a spin that carried her across a hovering staff of musical notes she conjured beneath her feet. "Not smoke," she corrected, her voice light, teasing. "I move like a song. You can't grab hold of a melody."
Rhyven darted in, his movements brutal in contrast to her elegance, a single strike shattering one of the glowing platforms she had conjured. "Songs can end," he growled, his voice low.
Her heel kissed the air, a kick disguised as a pirouette that skimmed his jaw before he could fully react. "Maybe," she whispered, landing gracefully and pivoting away, "but until then, you're dancing to my tune."
The battlefield itself shifted with her rhythm — notes erupted from the ground in staccato bursts, forcing Rhyven and Zevros to leap aside, while twisting platforms spun like records to redirect their momentum, stealing their balance. Every time they thought they'd corner her, the world itself bent and tilted under her command, tossing them into disadvantage.
Zevros steadied himself, breathing hard. "You're not untouchable."
Her smile sharpened, eyes glinting. "Then prove it. Keep up."
She launched forward, her dance accelerating into a blur of flowing kicks and spins, her steps tapping against invisible beats only she could hear. Each strike was fast, precise, yet playful — a mocking rhythm that dared them to try and match her.
Zevros forced a gust of wind from his hands, aiming a precise, long-range strike at Rylenne. She didn't flinch. Instead, her body dipped low, the motion fluid and perfectly timed, as the attack cut harmlessly above her. In a blink, she sprang forward, landing before him in a low crouch. Her fist shot out like a striking note, connecting with explosive force.
At the same time, multiple afterimages of her appeared, surrounding Zevros. Each silhouette struck differently — a high spinning kick from one, a sharp elbow from another, a straight punch from a third. Some came from the air, some from behind, some from the sides, all converging in perfect rhythm. Each attack landed almost simultaneously, creating a storm of motion that battered him from every angle.
Before he could recover, Rylenne vanished entirely, leaving only a cascade of shimmering afterimages. They streaked toward Rhyven at hyper speed, each moving unpredictably, striking from all directions — punches, kicks, shoulder rams, and feints that forced him to stagger back, trying to keep balance as blows grazed past.
With a final lunge, Rylenne herself appeared above Rhyven, landing gracefully on a glowing music-note platform she had summoned beneath her. Her toes tapped against it in a sharp rhythm, each beat sending ripples across the stage. Zevros and Rhyven, battered and staggered, could only look on as she stood there — poised, untouchable, and commanding the battlefield with the elegance of a dancer and the force of a storm.
Zevros staggered back, brushing sand and energy debris from his shoulders, eyes narrowing as he assessed the chaos around him. Rhyven mirrored his stance, breathing heavily but steady, scanning the shifting illusions and afterimages.
"This… this isn't normal," Rhyven muttered, voice calm but edged with disbelief. "Every time we strike, she moves before we even reach her. And those afterimages… they're coordinated. We can't predict where she'll hit next."
Zevros clenched his fists, frustration rippling through his otherwise composed demeanor. "She's bending the very stage beneath us. Every platform, every ripple… she controls it all. And her speed—she's untouchable. There's no opening, no pattern for us to exploit."
Rhyven shook his head slightly, eyes following a particularly fast strike that had just grazed him. "We can't rely on brute force alone. Every move we make, she's already accounted for it… or she's using the music, the dimension itself, to manipulate us."
Zevros exhaled sharply, lowering his gaze. "We need a new approach. Conventional tactics won't work here… not against someone who's literally bending the rules of this world to her rhythm."
Rhyven nodded slowly, concern clear but tempered by resolve. "We have to find a weakness in the flow itself… but how do you fight someone who is the flow?"
The two stood there, scanning the kaleidoscopic battlefield, both realizing that every attempt to land a hit so far had only left them staggered, vulnerable, and increasingly unsure of their next move.
Rhyven's eyes narrowed as he studied the chaotic swirl of music, platforms, and afterimages surrounding them. "What if… what if we could break her rhythm?" he suggested, his voice steady but thoughtful. "She's relying on the flow of this world, her movement, the music itself. If we disrupt that… maybe we can create an opening."
Zevros shook his head slowly, frustration clear beneath his composed exterior. "Break her rhythm…? And how exactly do you propose we do that? I've seen every trick in my repertoire, yet every attack we make bends right back at her. The music, the stage, the illusions—she's in complete control. There's nothing for us to grab onto."
Rhyven frowned, scanning the dimensional battlefield. "I know. That's why it's tricky. But if we can somehow disrupt the flow, even for a second… just enough to throw her off balance, we might be able to strike."
Zevros' jaw tightened, his gaze sweeping over the kaleidoscopic waves of color and motion. "A second… that's all we get? And even then, we'd have to know precisely when and where to hit. Without knowing her limits, her timing, or the source of her control… it's nearly impossible."
Rhyven let out a slow breath, his calm voice carrying a hint of unease. "I get it… but if we just keep trying to hit her directly, we'll be here forever. We need to think beyond conventional attacks."
Rylenne's wide grin suddenly faded, the sparkle in her eyes vanishing in an instant. Without a word, she dropped gracefully onto the nearest floating platform, legs stretched out casually, and let out a long, exaggerated yawn. The music faltered with her motion, notes scattering like sparks, and the vibrant dimension around them began to fracture and splinter, shards of color and light collapsing inward.
"I'm… too bored," she murmured lazily, reclining against the broken remnants of the stage, fingers drumming idly on the warped surface.
The world around Zevros and Rhyven seemed to collapse in on itself, and suddenly they were back on the real docks, sand whipping across their boots and the wind roaring in their ears. They blinked, struggling to process what had just happened.
Rylenne now stood before them, completely relaxed, hands in her pockets, one foot tapping casually on the sand, as if she had never moved at all. Her eyes held a lazy, playful glint, leaving both Zevros and Rhyven utterly confused and off-balance.
"What… just happened?" Rhyven whispered, scanning the empty space where the music dimension had been moments ago.
Zevros' eyes narrowed, his usual composure shaken. "I… I don't understand. How did she…?" His words trailed off, leaving only the sound of the wind and the faint tap of Rylenne's foot on the dock.
Rhyven's eyes narrowed as he studied Rylenne, the girl casually leaning against the sand, her cloak swaying gently in the wind. Something clicked in his mind, a realization threading itself through the chaos they'd just survived.
"She's… her power… it's not just skill," he murmured, almost to himself, voice low but steady. "It's expression. Every step, every note, every movement—it's all tied to her enjoyment. The dimension, the attacks, the chaos… it only exists because she's living it, feeling it, having fun with it. The moment that spark leaves her, everything collapses."
Zevros glanced at him, brow furrowed. "So you're saying… if she's bored or indifferent, that's the weakness?"
Rhyven nodded, eyes never leaving her. "Exactly. Her creativity fuels the power. Her joy drives it. Take that away—even just a little—and the whole construct falls apart. It's not the skill itself, it's the mind behind the skill. Right now… she's tired, disinterested… the world she built is shattered because she's not into it anymore."
He gestured subtly at the remnants of the shattered dimension floating like debris in the air. "That's her vulnerability. Even the most insane power can't run on autopilot—it dies with her engagement. If we can manipulate that… if we can find a way to sap her focus or excitement… then we might actually stand a chance."
Venos, still tied but now peeking between them, let out a nervous laugh. "So… basically, you beat her by making her bored? That's… actually kinda brilliant."
Rhyven's gaze lingered on Rylenne, noting the casual tilt of her head, the slow blink of her fiery eyes, and the way her weight shifted lazily from one leg to the other. The thrill, the energy, the chaos she had woven through her dimension—all gone.
"She's… not a threat," Rhyven murmured, almost in disbelief, letting the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. He looked over at Zevros, who still seemed wary but slowly began to process the truth. "Her power's insane, yes—but it only works when she wants it to. Right now? She doesn't want it."
Rylenne's voice broke the silence, slow and casual, carrying a tone of amused indifference. "Nah… I'm too lazy to keep going. All that effort, all that chaos… it's just not worth it right now. Not my mood." She tapped her foot lightly on the sand, almost rhythmically, before yawning again. "If you want to take the old man, fine. Don't expect me to put up another fight. I'm done."
Venos, still tied but now cautiously watching her, blinked in shock. "Wha—wait, seriously? You're just… letting this happen?"
Rylenne shrugged, grinning lazily. "Yeah… don't worry. Can't say I'm mad at anyone. Just… not gettin' into it today."
Rhyven exchanged a glance with Zevros, both of them processing this entirely new reality. The impossible, untouchable force they'd faced mere moments ago had evaporated into complete indifference.
Venos' panic skyrocketed. "Hey! Get your butt back up! Now! If you don't—Temoshí's out cold and we're done for! Do you hear me?!"
He struggled uselessly against his ropes, rocking and flailing as much as he could. "I can't… I can't even move properly! Wake up! Seriously, this is life or death here!"
Rylenne, stretched out on the sand, cracked one eye open lazily, let out a long, dramatic yawn, and rolled onto her side. "Mm… too tired…" she mumbled casually, voice calm as if she were on a Sunday morning stroll. Then she turned away, tucked her arms under her head, and promptly fell back asleep.
Venos' eyes widened in disbelief. "She's… she's actually asleep?! Our lives are on the line, He's knocked out, and she's… napping?! What the hell?!"
He tugged at his bindings harder, rocking back and forth like a flailing puppet. "We're toast if she doesn't move!"
His voice cracked in a mix of desperation and outrage. "Rylenne! Wake up! You're gonna let us die while you nap?!"
The soft, rhythmic sound of her snoring carried in the desert wind, perfectly indifferent to his frantic shouts. Venos slumped against the ropes, forehead pressed against the deck. "I… I literally can't… tied up.."
Rhyven straightened, resting a hand on his hip. "Seems like she burned all her energy summoning that dimension. Left herself completely slacked out. Since she's not a threat anymore, we can take these two back to the kingdom. I'll head to Iron Messa like you suggested, Zevros."
Zevros glanced over at the slowly stirring Desert Fangs, who were just regaining consciousness, blinking and rubbing sand from their eyes. He raised his voice, sharp and commanding. "Everyone, get up and take your positions! Secure these two immediately. Move efficiently and stay alert—no mistakes."
The members exchanged surprised glances for a brief moment, still dazed, before nodding rapidly. They quickly fell in line, gathering themselves and moving to follow Zevros' orders with practiced precision, their earlier confusion replaced by disciplined obedience.
To be continued...