The dreamscape of Irminsul became a blur of violence. Ren moved with a speed that defied his small stature, his scythe a reaping arc of cold death. Yet, for every strike he made, Dottore was simply… not there. The Harbinger moved with a casual, fluid grace, parrying heavy blows with a hard-light barrier that flickered into existence for mere milliseconds, stepping sideways just as the ice blade cleaved the space he had occupied a heartbeat before.
"Sloppy," Dottore critiqued, his voice bored. He caught the haft of the scythe on a barrier, leaning in. "You have the instincts, yes. The muscle memory is ingrained deep within your enhanced physiology. But you are a passenger in your own body."
He shoved Ren back with a pulse of energy. "You let the weapon lead you. You swing where the momentum takes you, not where the opening is. It makes you formidable against brutes, but against a researcher?" He tapped his temple. "Predictable."
Dottore snapped his fingers. Two sleek needles materialized behind Ren, their tips glowing crimson. They split, arcing wide to flank him from both sides, firing simultaneously.
Ren didn't turn. He couldn't. The momentum of his last swing had carried him too far forward. But the instinct—the cold, dormant training of a forgotten past—took over.
He released the scythe with one hand, spinning it behind his back to block the left beam. Simultaneously, he whipped his free hand forward in a violent backhand swipe. His azure eyes flared a blinding, pure white.
CRACK!
A jagged explosion of Cryo burst from him, shattering the right projectile and deflecting the left.
"Interesting," Dottore muttered, watching the ice dust settle. "The assimilation with Cryo and Electro is indeed a successful experiment. The variable stabilizes the chaos."
Ren landed in a crouch, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was at his limit. Two elements were a strain; the constant teleporting was burning through his stamina. He needed more. He needed to break the Doctor's guard, just once.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing the velvet box from Xianyun. He popped the lid.
Inside lay a glowing teal gem. It wasn't just a stone; it was a Vision. His Master's Vision, lent to him as a final, desperate contingency.
He grabbed it.
The sensation was like inhaling a hurricane. The Anemo energy rushed into him, wild and free, clashing violently with the stillness of Cryo and the vibration of Electro. His veins burned. His vision white-out.
He screamed, a sound lost in the roar of wind that erupted around him.
The smoke from the previous blast swirled, turning into a vortex.
"What's this?" Dottore asked, tilting his head.
Ren burst from the cloud. He didn't run; he vanished in a violet flash, reappearing instantly within striking distance.
His scythe was no longer just ice. It was wreathed in purple lightning and surrounded by a swirling, cutting vacuum of wind.
Cryo. Electro. Anemo.
Superconduct. Swirl.
He swung.
The attack was a kaleidoscope of elemental fury. The Anemo amplified the Cryo, spreading the frost instantly. The Electro supercharged the reaction.
Dottore's eyes widened behind his mask. The needles behind him swiveled to intercept, firing a web of lasers.
They shattered. The wind blade tore through the beams, the ice froze the mechanisms, and the lightning shorted the circuits.
Ren's scythe slammed into Dottore's primary hard-light shield.
KRRR-RACK!
The barrier fractured, spiderwebs of light spreading across its surface. The force of the blow—the combined weight of three elements—was too much for the hasty defense. The shield exploded.
The blast wave caught Dottore in the chest. The Harbinger was launched backward, his boots skidding across the misty ground, carving deep furrows into the dreamscape. He slid ten, twenty feet, finally digging his heels in to stop.
He stood upright, brushing a smoldering ember from his lapel. He wasn't injured—his coat wasn't even torn—but he was winded. He let out a breath, a puff of steam escaping his mask.
"Commendable," Dottore said, his voice holding a trace of genuine surprise. "To harmonize three discordant energies without a Delusion or a Gnosis… your physiology is truly a marvel."
Ren stood trembling, the scythe dissolving into mist. The cost was immediate. The Anemo energy had ravaged his system. His vision tunneled. His knees buckled. Darkness encroached on the edges of his sight. He was going to faint.
No.
He gritted his teeth. He couldn't fall. Not yet.
He summoned a spark of Electro, directing it not outward, but inward. He shocked his own heart. He sent a jolt of electricity through his nervous system, forcing his muscles to lock, forcing his brain to stay awake through pure, agonizing stimulation.
He convulsed, a gasp of pain tearing from his throat, but he stayed standing.
Dottore watched this self-mutilation with a clinical nod. "Resourceful. Cruel to the vessel, but effective. You possess a will that exceeds your design parameters."
The Doctor raised his hand. "But the data collection is complete. The variable has exceeded expectations, yet falls short."
Three more needles materialized, larger than before. They formed a triangle around Ren, humming with a lethal, high-pitched whine.
"Sleep," Dottore commanded.
The lasers fired. Three beams of concentrated destruction converged on the small, swaying boy.
Ren had nothing left. No shields. No dodges. He closed his eyes, bracing for the burning end, hoping he had bought enough time for Nahida.
He waited for the pain.
It didn't come.
Instead, a strange sensation washed over him. The burning in his veins cooled. The exhaustion that weighed on his bones lifted, as if a heavy cloak had been removed. The agonizing thrum of his overtaxed heart settled into a calm, slow rhythm.
He opened his eyes.
The world had stopped.
The three red lasers were frozen in mid-air, inches from his face, looking like solid bars of ruby light. Dust motes hung suspended in the stillness.
He looked ahead. Dottore was frozen mid-gesture, his coat tails flared behind him, rigid as stone.
He turned his head. Nahida was frozen near the tree, her hand outstretched, the green light of her healing magic solidified like emerald glass. Even the black flames on the Irminsul were paused, a sculpture of destruction.
Ren stood in the center of a silent, frozen photograph. He was the only thing moving in a world that had ceased to exist.
"It seems," a voice echoed, not from the air, but from everywhere and nowhere at once, "that you are in need of a moment."