Five days had passed since St. Commander Wan Harrison Fenris-Valkyr tore through the fabric of reality to deliver the grim news of the "Rumbling" to the allied kingdoms of Orizon and Valeria. The diplomatic gears were grinding slowly, but in the secluded courtyards of the Ukyo Palace, time was measured in bruises and broken floorboards.
Shinji had spent those five days in the outskirts, hunting straggler Maiju that had leaked through the border. He was a terror to them—a silent, mana-less predator they couldn't sense—but he was frustrated. He could strike them, bruise them, and outmaneuver them, but he lacked the "kill-stroke." He lacked the density to shatter their cores without the Abyss.
Redhardt stood on the balcony, his arms crossed. Beside him, Wan was sitting on the railing, upside down, lazily flipping through a scrapbook filled with pictures of various dessert shops in Ukyo.
"He's ready for a real stimulus, Wan," Redhardt said, not looking away from Shinji, who was practicing his breathing in the courtyard below. "He has the shell of the Zero Variant. Now he needs the pressure to forge the core."
Wan popped a strawberry into his mouth, his eyes sparkling with a mix of boredom and mischief. "You want me to bully the kid? Red, I'm an aristocrat. I don't like getting sweat on my silk. But..." Wan folded into himself like a crumpled piece of paper and reappeared ten feet in front of Shinji with a soft pop. "I suppose I can spare twenty minutes before my tea service."
Shinji snapped into a low stance, his eyes narrowing. "St. Commander Wan."
"Don't be so stiff, kid! You'll give yourself a cramp," Wan chirped, waving a photo of a cat at him. "Redhardt says you're trying to learn how to kill ghosts. Well, you're looking at the best ghost in Gonaya. Try to hit me. If you do, I'll buy you a parfait. If you don't... well, it is what it is!"
THE DUEL: INVISIBLE VS. ZERO
Shinji didn't wait. He exhaled, his heartbeat slowing to a near-stop. Amsterdam Phantom-Circuit. To the naked eye, Shinji was there. To anyone sensing mana, the courtyard was empty. He moved with a predatory silence, closing the distance in a blur. He reached out, his arm hardening with a dull, metallic sheen. Rotterdam Steel-Docks.
His fist whistled toward Wan's jaw. At the last microsecond, Wan didn't move his head—he simply vanished.
Pop.
Wan was suddenly sitting on Shinji's shoulders, his weight seemingly non-existent. "Close! But I saw that coming in a postcard three weeks ago."
Shinji roared, erupting with a physical shockwave from his core. Utrecht Hub-Burst. The Aura blast forced Wan to leap off, but as the Commander hovered in mid-air, Shinji overclocked his nervous system. Eindhoven Neon-Spark.
Shinji became a streak of white light. He appeared behind Wan in mid-air, his hands spiraling with high-velocity Aura. Groningen Wind-Mill. The rotational force was meant to drill through the thickest hide, but Wan's Void Mantle activated. Shinji's hands passed through Wan as if the Commander were made of smoke.
"Whoops! Wrong layer!" Wan giggled, reappearing on the ground and snapping a finger.
The ground beneath Shinji's feet suddenly felt like it was made of ice, then liquid, then stone. Wan was using Layer Merging from his Omnipresent Funhouse, stacking different terrains into the courtyard.
"You're too focused on where I am," Wan lectured, his voice suddenly dropping an octave into a cold, professional tone. "The Pact of Obsidian doesn't play by the rules of physics, Shinji. Veynar Umbros will rewrite your reality. Vaderius will erase your future. If you can't handle a 'Phantom Tourist,' you'll be a snack for those Grotesque Maijus."
Shinji hit the shifting ground and rolled, his Aura flaring. The Hague Iron-Law. He slammed his palms into the earth, exerting a heavy, stagnant pressure in a twenty-meter radius. The "Law" forced the space to stabilize, canceling Wan's terrain manipulation.
"Oh? Locking the doors? How rude," Wan said, appearing right in front of Shinji. He didn't teleport this time; he just moved with the terrifying efficiency of a Saint Commander. He tapped Shinji on the forehead. "Tag."
Shinji felt his head snap back, but he used the momentum. Almere Tide-Flow. He slipped through the air pressure of Wan's tap, spinning his body to lace the air with thin, unbreakable threads of Aura. Haarlem Weaver-Bind.
The threads tightened around Wan's limbs, using the Commander's own movement to pin him.
"Got you!" Shinji yelled. He lunged, his fingers aimed at the pressure points in Wan's neck. Tilburg Chimera-Cracker.
Wan's eyes widened. For a second, the goofiness vanished entirely. The Saint Commander's aura flared—a cold, absolute void. He didn't break the threads. He made the parts of his body touched by the threads invisible and intangible.
He stepped through the bind like it wasn't there and caught Shinji's wrist in a grip of iron.
"The effort? A+. The execution? Needs more 'it is what it is,'" Wan said, his face inches from Shinji's. He suddenly let go and performed a ridiculous backflip, landing in a heroic pose that looked like a parody of a stage actor.
Shinji panted, his muscles screaming. He had one move left. He gathered every ounce of his life force, his Aura collapsing into a single, terrifying point of "Zero-Pressure."
The Leiden Cold-Fusion.
The air in the courtyard began to be sucked into Shinji's palm. The vacuum effect was so strong it started pulling the tiles off the palace walls.
"Whoa, whoa! Easy there, Sparky!" Wan laughed, but he didn't look worried. He opened his scrapbook and pointed at a photo of a deep-sea trench.
As Shinji unleashed the vacuum strike, Wan used Snapshot Warp to swap the space in front of him with the atmospheric pressure of the trench. The two forces—Shinji's vacuum and the deep-sea pressure—hit each other in a localized implosion that sent a shockwave through the entire Palace.
When the dust cleared, Shinji was on one knee, his arms trembling. He had used everything.
Wan was standing there, perfectly clean, holding a fresh photo he had just taken with a handheld camera. It was a picture of Shinji mid-strike, looking absolutely feral.
"Nice! This one is going on the 'Potential Heroes' page," Wan said, his goofy personality returning in full force.
THE LECTURE: "IT IS WHAT IT IS"
Wan walked over and patted Shinji on the head, ignoring the boy's attempt to swat him away.
"Listen, kid," Wan said, his voice becoming serious again. "The Pact of Obsidian... they aren't just 'villains.' They are a trauma that hasn't healed. Veynar thinks the world is a mistake. Vaderius thinks he's the cure. They will use your friends against you. They will turn your memories into weapons."
He looked at the photo of Shinji. "You have the skills. The Zero Variant is terrifying because it strikes the soul, not the mana. But you're still fighting like you have something to lose. You have to realize that Limana is gone. Your master is gone. Your old life? It is what it is."
Wan shrugged, a wide, slightly manic grin on his face. "Once you accept that the world is a chaotic, burning dumpster fire, you stop being afraid of the heat. That's when you become a Saint. Or a Ghost. Whichever comes first."
Redhardt walked down from the balcony, nodding to Wan. "Thank you, Commander."
"Whatever. My parfaits are waiting," Wan waved a hand, his body beginning to fold into itself. He looked at Shinji one last time, his eyes gleaming with genuine respect. "You didn't hit me, kid. But you made me use my 'Serious Eyes' for a split second. Don't tell anyone, it'll ruin my reputation as a slacker."
With a final pop, the Saint Commander vanished.
Shinji looked at his hands. They were still shaking, but for the first time, they felt heavy. They felt like they could actually hold the weight of the night.
"He's right," Shinji whispered, looking at Redhardt. "I was fighting to get back what I lost. But I need to fight for what's left."
Redhardt placed a hand on his shoulder. "Tomorrow, we move to the border. The Rumbling is only two days away. Let's see if that Zero-Pressure of yours can suck the soul out of a God."
[TO BE CONTINUED]