The canyon walls pressed close, jagged and scarred, dust curling in restless spirals. Light fractured across stone, glinting off shard-veins as though the cliffs themselves were alive, trembling with anticipation. A scream split the air—a Hunter plummeting from the ridge above, shard-spear arcing and shattering stone into jagged fragments that rained across the canyon floor.
Chaos erupted. Shadows twisted along the walls, knives glinting, claws snapping, sparks erupting with every violent contact. Dust stung eyes, coating every breath with metallic tang mingled with coppery blood.
The Five moved with precision amid the carnage. Threads of crystal-blue light coiled around falling spears and shards, bending them aside with deadly intent. Liora twisted her hands, stabilizing debris while snapping a Hunter off balance, her silver threads humming through the air like a web of controlled chaos. Each motion was careful, calculated, balancing protection of the survivors with countering the attack.
Nysera leapt from ridge to ridge, golden aura rippling around her as claws met stone and steel alike. Every strike was instinct-driven, precise. Her amber eyes flickered with gold, muscles coiled, every breath measured. She snarled at the shadow of a Hunter, eyes sharp for movement beyond the cliff edge—aware that Viktor's presence lingered nearby, a dark pulse that demanded constant vigilance.
Laura stayed close to the survivors, hourglass pendant sending golden ripples outward. Each pulse steadied hearts and lungs, holding fragile bodies steady even as shards of stone tumbled around them. Her arms shook with exhaustion, yet she remained steadfast, a subtle beacon of calm amid the chaos.
Law moved through the canyon like a force of instinct, twin blades flashing in arcs of controlled precision. Sparks hissed as metal met corruption-tainted armor. From the center of the clash, black-veined energy coiled along a figure wielding a jagged axe—Viktor. Law's phantom echoes rippled around him, matching the axe's swings, each arc calculated to deflect and counter the pulse of corruption. Every micro-shift, every movement, measured survival against the lethal threat before him.
The canyon itself seemed to join the fight. Rocks tumbled like meteor showers, yet golden and silver threads froze boulders midair, holding shards like frozen stars. Each ripple of power took effort, strain coiling through muscle and bone, yet the survivors remained protected, moving forward under the careful guidance of the Five.
Knives flashed and claws met steel, black veins rippling across attackers' forearms. Sparks erupted where threads held or blades collided, shards scattering across dust-choked air. Every strike carved scars into stone and flesh alike. The canyon roared in response to the tumult, echoes amplifying every roar, every clash, every step.
In the center, Law's twin blades met Viktor's axe in a relentless rhythm. Dust whipped around them, shards suspended midair, and every strike left traces of black energy along jagged stone. Viktor lunged, fury coiling through every sinew, yet Law moved with unbroken instinct, phantom selves rippling with every counter. Sparks hissed where steel and corrupted metal met, the canyon trembling beneath their collision.
The Five worked as one: Nysera struck with clawed precision, Liora reinforced barriers, Laura stabilized survivors, and Law countered Viktor's assault. Each heartbeat, each breath, was a battle of awareness, endurance, and survival. The shard-light flickered across their eyes—gold, silver, pale blue—subtle yet insistent, the first whispers of their Path emerging under pressure.
Even as the Hunters pressed from all sides, the Five carved a path through the chaos. Debris fell, shards spun through the air, but the survivors followed, guided with care and vigilance. The canyon swallowed screams, sparks, and dust alike, but amid it all, a pulse thrummed beneath muscle and bone—a whisper of deeper power, subtle, inexorable, growing with each motion.
The Five realized, even through the chaos, that this battle was only the beginning. The canyon had tested them, and while the fight raged, they had survived. Viktor remained a shadow beyond the edges, a looming threat, patient and calculating. But the Five were no longer the children who had fled into this canyon. They were shardbearers, attuned to instinct, Path, and the pulse of survival itself.
Dust swirled in lazy spirals. Shard-light glinted off fractured surfaces, catching the gold, silver, and pale blue shimmer in their eyes. The battle pressed on, but the Five pressed forward, survivors in tow, carrying themselves through the chaos with precision, awareness, and a quiet, unyielding strength.
The canyon had not let them go unscathed. But neither would it break them.