The casino's neon glow flickered violently, echoing the chaos unfurling at its heart. Cards and chips lay scattered across the floor, forgotten remnants of recognition currency. The dealers' presence pulsed like a heartbeat, each breath bending reality around them.
Xino's voice cut through the tension, gruff and measured, but filled with the weight of authority.
"You guys will regret messing with us. You have no idea what we're about to do to you. I don't care who you think you are."
Thela's form rippled violently, extra limbs stretching in unnatural angles. Aura crackled across his body like storm clouds boiling over the horizon.
"You're getting crushed right here, right now!" His voice was a low, jagged rumble, carrying menace through the room.
Marneth's fingers danced through the air, weaving waves of contradictory force.
"Oh, so it's confirmed? Let's see how you'll fare against my Dimensional Paradox." The air twisted around him, time and space bending, contradicting itself with every flick of his wrist.
Ulok summoned the Gates of Woes, dark portals emerging like gaping mouths ready to swallow reality.
"Ooh, spooky stuff," muttered someone near the back. "Get ready to see more!"
Jero's fear surged through him, coiling like snakes around his limbs—but that fear became a weapon. The chains of revolution ignited around him, glowing faintly, ready to strike in a synchronized rhythm with his heartbeats.
Meilo's mirrors shimmered, glinting edges as he summoned glaives from impossible angles. Not reflections this time—projections, each blade aimed with mathematical precision.
Gullia's hands blurred, carving trauma-shaped weapons from the thin air. Each pumpkin-like construct was a fragment of nightmares, poised to lash out at anything approaching.
Nicia twirled her black inks, tendrils slicing the air like serpentine whips, anchoring her position, prepared to strike or shield in an instant.
And Kranor? He slammed his sword into the table, a silent thunderclap that scattered cards and chips across the floor. The room seemed to pause, recognition currency shivering in awe.
"Oh, you wanna know… you really wanna know?" Kranor muttered, smirk curling across his lips. "We are part of the Deviant Alliance—people who run this realm. You think we needed recognition? Haha, we were just having fun."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Citizens who had underestimated these "kids" now stared wide-eyed, witnessing the unfolding revelation.
Lunio stepped forward, a smirk on his face, arms crossed.
"Yeah, that's right. Didn't see that coming, huh… you shaman psychos?"
Xino paused, brow furrowing, then gestured at the split tables.
"Oh, I see… hot cakes, big deals, fancy badges… fair enough… but not enough." His tone was both warning and intrigue. "Hmm… that ain't doing anything against us."
Suddenly, danger flies erupted from Xino's body, buzzing like a living storm. They latched onto Kranor before he could even react.
Marneth shouted, fingers slicing through the air as spiraling black holes erupted to counter the onslaught.
But one of Xino's lanterns absorbed the attack, glowing brighter with stolen energy.
Then—boom!
A wave of invisible light streaked across the hall, stretching reality into intimate, personal distortions, wrapping around Kranor and his friends like a suffocating tide.
Nicia's black ink tendrils lashed out, anchoring to the pillars, saving her friends from being thrown off balance.
Marneth grabbed onto Nicia's tendrils, holding himself against the surge.
Jero, Gullia, Lunio, and Meilo were yanked into safety, carried by the black tendrils' unwavering grip.
Ulok remained inside his Gate of Woes, shadowy portals bracing him, forming a buffer against the destabilized space.
Kranor, undeterred, drove his sword into the ground like a spike anchoring him to reality itself. His aura flared, neon green light cascading in waves, a silent declaration of dominance.
Lunio's grin widened, teeth glinting under the neon haze.
"Let's end these bastards!"
Dealer Xino's laughter, deep and jagged, cut through the room.
"You done messed up now… hahaha."
Thela's limbs writhed, slithering across the casino floor as he pounced. The air vibrated with the weight of distorted geometry, shadows snapping unnaturally around his extended forms.
Marneth countered with a controlled surge of paradoxical waves, clashing against the chaotic red-and-black aura.
Ulok's gates expanded, a lattice of shadow swallowing fragments of light, shielding the crew.
Gullia's trauma constructs lunged outward, slicing through the chaotic waves, each one a jagged echo of fear made real.
Nicia's inks moved like liquid steel, black tendrils wrapping around lanterns and shards, absorbing bursts of energy before they could erupt.
Meilo's mirrored glaives spun and twirled, projecting extensions of himself into the battle, deflecting attacks with impossible angles.
Jero's chains of fear lashed at Xino, striking not with brute force but the weight of raw apprehension and potential, tethering him in place for brief, critical moments.
Kranor, finally upright, aura blazing, tightened his grip on the sword. Neon green light surged, reflecting the culmination of his focus, pride, and conviction.
He stepped forward, voice cutting like a blade through the chaos:
"Enough! I won your game. Now try your tricks… and see what happens!"
The dealers froze momentarily, recognition dawning that this "kid" was not to be trifled with.
The tension crackled, neon fire against the void, reality bending around the clash of wills.
The dealers stepped forward, with their shamanic goons, holding their lanterns, ready to strike at any moment...
As of now everyone is out... leaving the dealers and Kranor's crew alone.
Xino's voice cut through the empty casino, sharp as shattered glass.
"Lunio is ours! Back out, or suffer with him!"
Lunio gulped, his eyes darting nervously. The others stiffened, tension crackling around them like live wires.
Kranor, narrowing his eyes, leveled his sword. "I won your game. Lunio isn't going anywhere. I suggest you stay down… or you face the wrath of the Deviant Alliance. No games this time."
Thela, limbs contorting as they slithered unnaturally, chuckled darkly.
"Ooh… Deviant Alliance, we heard you the first time," he hissed, venom in every syllable. "I bet you just got promoted, huh? You're not a veteran. We haven't even seen you in action yet… haha…"
Something inside Kranor snapped. His grip tightened. His aura flared green, neon sparks dancing around him.
"That's it. Enough."
He surged forward, sword raised like a lightning rod calling down fury.
Xino countered instantly, raising a shield forged from swirling conflict constructs—one of the universal Deviant arts. The air screamed as sword met shield, the collision bending space around them like liquid metal.
Meanwhile, the other dealers moved with unnatural synchronicity.
Marneth twisted her hands through the air. "Dimensional Paradox, engage!" Waves of contradictory force flung the dealers into impossible loops, spinning and shifting through space, direction lost and regained in the blink of an eye.
Nicia let her black inks pour like obsidian rivers, enveloping three dealers in a void of nothingness. Silent screams stretched across the empty air, leaving empty husks behind.
"Don't worry," she murmured with a sly grin. "You'll feel great being my puppets… oops… you won't feel anything at all."
Ulok summoned the Gates of Woes beneath a group of shamans. Their forms were yanked into the shadowy plane, where nightmarish childlike creatures with jagged teeth and claws awaited.
"Welcome to my world," Ulok said calmly, watching the dealers vanish with a flick of his wrist.
Meilo reflected lantern beams, ricocheting shards of searing light across the room. "Nah, ah guys, you gotta do better than that," he quipped, slicing through multiple attacks before they even formed.
Gullia's trauma pumpkins lunged, gnashing teeth as they chewed at any dealer who came near. Then she summoned her evolved Dirge Exo Armor, swinging her massive, spectral arm into the nearest cluster of enemies.
Crash! The impact resonated through the hall like a drum of war.
Jero whipped his chains of revolution, sending a dealer flying into a pillar. The metal groaned under the strike.
Lunio, eyes wide, turned to him. "Thanks, man… appreciate it."
He then spat a stream of corrosive acid at a nearby, already weakened dealer.
"That serves you right," Lunio muttered with a hint of glee.
Jero, face twisting with disgust, muttered under his breath.
"I… I can't believe this…"
Lunio laughed, teeth glinting. "What? Haven't seen a giant humanoid snake having his fun?"
Jero shook his head, mortified.
Lunio grinned wider. "Say yes… even though you haven't seen it."
Meanwhile, Kranor and Xino continued their clash at lightning pace. Each strike carved scars into space itself. The air around Kranor's sword pulsed with authority, every swing a statement of dominance.
Xino unleashed his danger flies again, buzzing like a swarm of living daggers. But Kranor anticipated it this time.
"Not today."
His sword arced through the air, neon-green aura distorting reality. The black void-like wave that erupted shredded the swarming flies instantly, vaporizing them in a burst of kinetic energy.
Kranor muttered under his breath, smirking despite the chaos.
"Keep up if you can…"
Xino hissed, aura flaring red and black, eyes narrowing.
"You're fast… but fast isn't enough!"
The two collided again, sword against shield, aura against aura, a storm of Omega Devia energy tearing at the edges of reality. Sparks flew like fireworks, shadows dancing across the casino walls.
In the chaos, the rest of Kranor's crew continued their deadly ballet of offense and defense. Each move, synchronized and instinctive, showcased their understanding not just of combat, but of the Omega Devia philosophy: contradiction, flexibility, and control of self amidst chaos.
And above all, Kranor's green aura blazed like a beacon. The message was clear: this was no ordinary fight. This was the Deviant Alliance showing the world—Flex City itself—that recognition, skill, and raw authenticity had its price… and it was non-negotiable.
Meanwhile...
The heavy bronze doors of the Traxian Auditorium creaked open. The dim light of suspended lanterns swayed overhead, casting long shadows across pillars carved with symbols of contradiction.
Carlin, hands folded behind his back, ushered Jairak's crew inside.
"Come this way… the generals want to see you."
The group moved in silence—Jairak, his pain aura flickering faintly like an ember refusing to die; Eugene, vibrating with restrained speed; Androsha, sitting on her fog throne as ever; Eve Maid, twirling her tranqs with eerie calm; Banjo, shuffling his rule-bending cards; and Jason, already radiating heat, flames licking at his shoulders.
At the far end of the chamber, two figures waited.
Manu stood still, his body etched with glowing void tattoos that pulsed rhythmically, like a second heartbeat.
"Godfather Traxis is off-world," he rumbled, his voice heavy as collapsing stone. "Recruiting more followers. Whatever he's doing… it's working. Numbers have spiked across the Free Abyss."
Kari, sleek and sharp-eyed, stepped forward, a faint grin tugging at her lips.
"And that gives us leverage. More hands, more eyes, more fear to spread. But you—" she gestured toward the crew, "—you will need to understand why."
Jairak, pain aura flaring brighter, spoke through clenched teeth.
"And what do we have to do with that?"
Manu's gaze pierced him.
"I believe you've all realized it by now—the existence of your inner realms."
Jason smirked, twirling a small flame across his fingers.
"Not gonna lie… I've seen it before. Especially during the Deviant Ascension trial." His fire roared briefly, forming a throne-like silhouette behind him. "Mine's a fiery temple of conviction. A throne of relevance itself."
Androsha nodded, expression unreadable.
"Mhm. Mine is a dense fog-covered forest. Hard to see, hard to move through. But it hides everything I need."
Eve Maid tilted her head, her voice sing-song.
"Are we going to put people to sleep? To force them to reveal themselves? If so…" her smile widened faintly, "…I'd be glad to participate."
Banjo, still shuffling his cards, laughed under his breath.
"Mine's a casino, fitting enough. Rules bend there whether I want them to or not."
Eugene, restless, zipped in a small loop and came to a stop.
"Mine's a distorted track. Twists, turns, endless. Feels like home."
The group turned as Jairak finally chuckled, low and unsettling.
"I think mine is filled with nerves, screeching in agony… yet it doesn't hurt. It's clarifying." His grin stretched wider, unnerving even his allies.
Manu nodded once.
"Yes. You all know your realms now. The next step is to learn how to influence others with that knowledge."
Carlin paced around them, hands gesturing in a preacher's rhythm.
"We'll teach you how to shape another's inner realm. Twist it. Push them into Omega Devia. Whether it's here in Flex City, the Free Abyss at large, or even the outer world…" He chuckled. "It's all fuel for the Alliance."
The weight of his words settled like iron.
Kari, voice smooth and sharp, concluded:
"Your rivals may know this too. But unlike them—we'll use it to its full potential. You'll weaponize your inner realms until your enemies don't even know who they are anymore."
Silence followed. The crew exchanged glances—half anticipation, half dread. One thing was certain: this was more than training. This was indoctrination into something much deeper.