Part 1
The world around Kael felt slow and silent, muffled by the apathetic effect of Chroma's power. But before his eyes, two formidable forces were about to explode. The air crackled with contrasting energies—Lyra's sharp and turbulent cosmic light against Chroma's cold and pervasive empty aura. Kael stood between them, an ordinary human who had recklessly thrown himself into a battle of little goddesses.
"Kael! Get out of the way!" Lyra's voice was sharp, filled with a concern that was mixed with a focused anger towards Chroma. "She's dangerous!"
"No, Lyra! Just listen!" Kael shouted back, trying to endure the pain in his body from his emergency landing. "She doesn't mean any harm! She's just—"
Too late. Chroma, perhaps feeling threatened by Lyra's aggressive presence or confused by Kael's appearance, moved again. Her large brush danced in the air, painting intricate symbols that glowed with a gray light.
"She's coming!" Rina warned through the headset, her voice still sounding a bit heavy. "Analysis shows she's constructing a large-scale illusion!"
Lyra gave her no chance. With a silent roar, she dashed forward, the giant scythe in her hand leaving a trail of purple nebula. She didn't hesitate for a second. To her, the logic was simple: an entity was hurting Kael's feelings (through the wave of apathy) and was now threatening him. That entity had to be eliminated.
"Stardust Requiem!"
Lyra swung her scythe horizontally. A devastating slash of cosmic energy shot out, tearing up the asphalt and sending a shockwave that made Kael stagger.
Chroma, with a frightening calm, simply tapped the tip of her brush on the ground.
"Fading Sketch."
Just before Lyra's slash hit her, Chroma's body became transparent, like a pencil sketch being erased. The slash passed right through her and slammed into the front of a building behind her, creating a massive explosion that brought down the building's facade.
"She dodged it!" Kael exclaimed.
Chroma reappeared a few meters to the side, still with her blank expression. She swung her brush towards Lyra. This time, the spectral paint that came out wasn't gray, but a deep, ink-like black.
"Portrait of Stillness."
The black ink formed a square frame around Lyra. From within the frame, chains of shadow shot out, trying to bind Lyra.
"Toys like this won't work on me!" Lyra spun gracefully, her scythe becoming a storm of small slashes that destroyed every approaching shadow chain. "You can only hide and play tricks, huh!?"
Lyra's anger was escalating. She raised her scythe high.
"Nova Crash!"
She slammed her weapon into the ground. The ground beneath Chroma cracked, and a miniature gravity well formed, trying to pull Chroma into its center.
For the first time, a flicker of expression appeared on Chroma's face—surprise. She stabbed the handle of her brush into the asphalt to hold on, her bare feet nearly lifting off the ground. With great effort, she swept her brush through the air.
"Monochrome Canvas."
The world around them trembled. Reality itself seemed to become a canvas. The ruined buildings, the damaged cars, even the sky—everything began to wash out and merge into gray watercolor strokes. This was no longer just removing color; this was the manifestation of a reality marble—a pocket dimension where Chroma was the master.
"Kael, get out of there!" Rina shouted. "She's creating her own territory! The laws of physics can change in there!"
Kael felt the gravitational pull from Lyra's attack weaken as the reality around him was rewritten. The fight had now moved into Chroma's world of painting.
Inside the monochrome canvas, the scenery was surreal. Lines were no longer straight, perspectives were chaotic. Lyra looked slightly confused by the sudden change.
"What a boring world," she hissed. "I'll destroy it along with you!"
But when she tried to dash forward, her movements felt slower, heavier. In her own world, Chroma had control over space and motion.
Chroma seized the opportunity. She floated slightly in the air, her brush now moving with frightening speed and precision. She "painted" dozens of copies of Lyra's scythe in the air, which then shot towards Lyra from all directions.
"Cheap imitations!" Lyra growled, spinning her scythe to parry the barrage of attacks. Each clash produced a muffled thud in this strange world.
Kael watched the fight with a heavy heart. This was wrong. They shouldn't be fighting. Lyra was fighting out of jealousy and a desire to protect him. Chroma was fighting out of fear and being cornered. Both of them were "lost children."
He had to do something. But what? Shouting was no longer effective. He had to go deeper, to the source of both of their emotions.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the fierce battle near him. He tried to reach for the resonance of both Phantasms at once.
From Lyra, he felt a storm of fire—anger, protectiveness, and a slight fear of loss.
From Chroma, he felt an ocean of ice—emptiness, fear of judgment, and at the bottom of that ocean, a frozen longing.
Kael is mine! —An emotional echo from Lyra.
Don't look at me… don't judge me… leave me alone… —An emotional echo from Chroma.
How could he reconcile fire and ice?
Part 2
The battle intensified. Lyra, though her movements were slowed, was beginning to adapt. Her raw cosmic power started to damage Chroma's "canvas." Each of her slashes not only destroyed the illusions but also tore through reality itself, creating small cracks where the colors of the real world began to seep in.
Chroma, realizing her world was breaking apart, became more desperate. Her paintings grew wilder and more abstract. The ground under Lyra's feet suddenly turned into a swamp of ink trying to swallow her, while the sky rained down sharp blades of paint.
"Kael!" Lyra shouted, as she had to leap back to avoid the ink swamp, which gave her an opening. "I'm ending this now!"
Energy began to gather in her scythe, preparing for a final attack that could destroy this entire pocket dimension—and probably a large part of the city along with it.
Kael knew he was out of time.
He opened his eyes. There was no time for careful diplomacy. He had to take a risk.
He didn't run towards Lyra to calm her down. He didn't run towards Chroma to comfort her.
He ran in the opposite direction, to the center of the square that had become their battlefield. He stood at a point where he could be seen by both of them.
"STOP!" he shouted, this time not just with his voice, but with a pure wave of emotion that he unleashed from within himself. A sincere plea.
Both of them flinched and paused, looking at him.
Kael looked at Lyra first. "Lyra! I know you want to protect me! Thank you! I'll never forget that! But this is the wrong way! By destroying her, you become just like those who want to hurt you!"
Then, he turned to Chroma. "And you! I know you're scared! I know you just want to be left alone! But running and hiding in this colorless world won't take away your pain! It will only bury it!"
His words, filled with emotional resonance, seemed to become the first color in that gray world.
Lyra faltered, the energy in her scythe dimming slightly. "But... she hurt you..."
"No," Kael shook his head. "She's just scared. Just like you were, when we first met. Remember?"
Hearing that, Lyra's gaze softened. The memory of her own emptiness and fear made her feel a sliver of empathy.
Kael then looked at Chroma. "I'm not going to judge you. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see your paintings. Your real paintings. The ones you wanted to show your father."
Hearing the word "father," Chroma's small body trembled violently. The monochrome canvas around them began to ripple unstably.
"I... I don't have... any paintings..." she whispered, the first words Kael had heard from her. Her voice was broken and full of despair. "They were... never good enough... Dad... never..." Her sentence was cut off by a choked sob.
That was the core of it. The tragedy of a young artist who felt her work was never good enough for the person she admired most, her own father. Her despair was so great that she decided to erase all color and emotion, because if there was nothing, then there could be no judgment, no failure.
"That's not true," Kael said gently. "Every stroke of your brush, every drop of your paint... it's a part of you. It's all precious."
He took a slow step forward, approaching Chroma.
Lyra, seeing this, no longer tried to attack. She just stood by, vigilant, ready to protect Kael if anything happened.
"Let me see," Kael held out his hand. "Not this gray world. But the world inside your heart. The world you want to paint."
Chroma looked at Kael's outstretched hand. She looked at Kael, then at the now-silent Lyra. She seemed like a child faced with an impossible choice. Continue to hide in a safe emptiness, or take the risk of trusting someone.
With a trembling hand, she slowly lowered her large brush.
And as the tip of the brush touched the ground, the monochrome world around them shattered like glass, returning them to the reality of the ruined Stellara City.
Chroma stood there, amidst the rubble, crying silently, gray tears streaming down her cheeks.
The fight was over. The real battle—the battle to heal a heart—was just about to begin.