Within the barrier, the air grew suffocating, heavy with the oppressive aura of death and decay that emanated from Cynthia. Iris, Maxwell, and Anya stood frozen, their gazes locked on what their once-teammate had become. The grotesque transformation had twisted Cynthia into a being of pure killing intent, her veins glowing sickly purple, her movements jerky and unnatural as the energy radiating from her corrupted form warped the ground beneath her.
“Cynthia!” Maxwell shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. He stepped forward, his wings flaring in defiance. “No! Please, answer me! Tell me you’re okay!” His words echoed in the suffocating silence.
Anya leaned casually against a fallen beam, her arms crossed, though her smirk barely masked the fear in her trembling voice. “Don’t bother, Avaritia. She’s gone. Either she decays into nothingness, or we put her down ourselves. Unless you’re keen on dying with her.” Her words cut like a blade, their venom laced with mockery.
Maxwell turned, his radiant eyes narrowing dangerously. “What did you call me?”
Anya’s grin widened, her voice taking on a mocking singsong. “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t remember me. It’s me, the Toymaker. I came so close to finishing you off last time, didn’t I? Should I try again? Maybe I’ll actually—”
Before she could finish, Iris’s blade of searing flames was at her throat in an instant, the heat licking at her skin. “Talk,” Iris commanded, her voice cold and sharp. “Tell us what you know. Now.”
Anya’s eyes widened in panic, and her bravado crumbled under the intensity of Iris’s glare. “Like I’d actually tell you losers any—”
Iris’s free hand shot out, gripping Anya by the neck. Her fingers grew hotter, the skin beneath them reddening as steam rose. “Start talking, or I’ll incinerate you where you stand.”
“I don’t know anything!” Anya shrieked, tears welling in her eyes as she clawed at Iris’s hand. “I swear! I swear! I had no idea this would happen! I’m just pretending to be confident because I’m terrified! Do you get it? There’s no way to beat Uncle Pandora’s Dead Faces. None. We’re all going to die!”
Her voice broke on the last word, and Iris released her, letting her crumple to the ground. Anya gasped for air, clutching her throat as tears streamed down her cheeks, her earlier bravado replaced with raw fear.
Maxwell’s wings dimmed, the light in his eyes flickering as despair threatened to overwhelm him. “We… we can’t fix her, can we?” he asked softly, his voice hollow.
“No,” Anya rasped, her voice trembling as she wiped at her tear-streaked face. “Your best bet is to pray. Maybe get lucky and put her down before she tears us apart. But honestly…” She paused, swallowing hard. “We’re all going to die.”
Iris’s hands clenched into fists, her fiery aura sparking wildly. Her voice trembled, but her resolve remained unshaken. “No. We’re not dying here. Not to this. Not to their twisted games.”
Anya let out a bitter laugh, sitting up and hugging her knees. “Easy for you to say. You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. His Dead Faces… they’re unstoppable.”
Anya’s lip quivered as fresh tears spilled down her face. “Why?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Why are you doing this? Uncle why?”
Cynthia stood motionless within the barrier, her twisted form radiating death energy. Her head twitched slightly, her blackened veins pulsing as if she were caught in an internal struggle. It was as if a piece of her still resisted—some part deep inside refusing to give in completely to the monstrous transformation.
“If we can hold out until Markus gets here,” Iris said, her fiery sword blazing in her grip, “we’ll be fine.”
Anya, still slumped on the ground, let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it, do you? Uncle Pandora doesn’t leave loose ends. If you’re waiting for Markus, you might as well pray. He’s probably eliminating the Reaper as we speak.”
Inside Wallace’s cluttered office, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more contrasting to the chaos unfolding in the gym. Markus sat casually in a spinning chair, balancing between a binge of K-dramas on the monitor and a Pokemon Emerald Nuzlocke run on his Gameboy. Empty snack bags and soda cans littered the desk, and his feet rested lazily on a pile of unopened files.
“Critical hit?!” Markus groaned, glaring at the small screen. His starter fainted in a battle he’d been sure he would win. “Stupid RNG. I’ll finish this run later.” With a huff, he tossed the Gameboy onto a nearby pile of papers and swiveled in his chair. “Man, it’s so boring in here. I wonder how Wallace is doing. Maybe I should—”
“Enjoying the downtime, Reaper?” came an unfamiliar voice.
Markus froze. His senses flared instantly, and in a flash, his Authority of Space activated. A section of the room warped, the space cutting like paper as he attempted to obliterate the intruder.
The man standing behind him sidestepped the attack effortlessly, the distorted space dissolving harmlessly around him. Markus spun to face the intruder, his eyes narrowing. The man wore a smug grin, his golden eyes glinting with malicious amusement.
“Who are you?” Markus demanded, his voice calm but edged with lethal intent.
Pandora tilted his head slightly, an air of mock politeness radiating from him. “Let’s just say I’m a good friend of Nikolai’s. I’m here to eliminate you before you… interrupt my plans.”
“What plans?” Markus asked, taking a step forward, his Authority humming around him.
Pandora laughed, the sound smooth and maddeningly arrogant. “Oh, my dear Reaper, do you think I’d just tell you? Nice try, though. I almost spilled it—almost.” He wagged a finger at Markus as if chastising a child. “But I’m not bold enough to reveal my master plan to someone who very well may escape this encounter.”
Markus smirked faintly. “Worth a shot. If you’re bold enough to come after me, though, I guess this means you’ll be fun.”
Pandora’s grin widened as he picked up Markus’s discarded Gameboy, holding it up with interest. With a flick of his fingers, the screen glitched, pixelated chaos spreading across it. “Authority of Error: Error of Technology,” Pandora said nonchalantly. The virtual Pokémon Markus had painstakingly raised vanished one by one, their digital graves displayed as the screen froze on a distorted Game Over screen.
“Game over, Reaper,” Pandora mocked, tossing the Gameboy onto the desk.
Markus’s smirk vanished, his gaze sharpening as his Authority surged. “Authority of Space: Spatial Erasure.”
The air around Pandora warped violently, bending and distorting as Markus targeted the very space he occupied, intending to erase him from existence. The pressure in the room spiked, the distortion making reality itself tremble.
Pandora didn’t flinch. He raised a hand, his Authority activating with a sickening hum. “Authority of Error: Error of Space.” A chaotic green aura surrounded him, consuming Markus’s attack as if it were nothing more than static. Pandora waved lazily, sending the fractured space back toward Markus.
The surrounding area cracked, the very fabric of the room splintering like fragile glass. Markus leaped back, his Authority working furiously to stabilize the collapse. But Pandora’s attack outpaced him, enveloping Markus in a swirling void of distorted energy. The world around Markus dissolved into nothingness, leaving him suspended in a void without form, without space.
“Not bad,” Markus muttered, his voice echoing in the void as he summoned his Authority to analyze the trap. “But I’ve seen worse.”
Pandora’s voice echoed through the void, dripping with smug satisfaction. “Temporary as it may be, this will hold you long enough for me to finish my work. The strongest human, reduced to nothing more than a spectator in my game.”
A flicker of doubt crossed Markus’s face, but it was quickly replaced with a feral grin. “If you think a little void’s going to stop me, you’re as dumb as you are cocky.”
Pandora laughed, his voice fading as he disappeared from the office. “Let’s see how long you last, Reaper. You’re not the first to underestimate me, but you might be the most amusing.”
As Pandora’s presence faded into nothingness, Markus remained in the void, his Authority of Space crackling like overcharged electricity around him. The emptiness pressed against him, oppressive and unnatural, yet he smirked faintly. “A void without space, huh?” he murmured to himself, his tone eerily calm despite the chaos surrounding him.
Wallace sprinted down the dimly lit hallway toward his office, his thoughts racing as fast as his feet. Bursting through the door, he skidded to a halt—and froze. Standing in the middle of the room was a figure straight out of a nightmare.
The man—or perhaps something far beyond human—wore a blank white mask, devoid of any features, emotionless yet infinitely unsettling. A crown of pale white roses adorned his head, their fragile petals contrasting sharply against his jet-black cloak, which seemed to ripple and twist like living shadows. Long white hair cascaded down his back, gleaming like frost in the dim light.
Wallace’s hand instinctively went to his weapon, his eyes narrowing. “Nihil?”
The figure tilted his head slightly, his voice calm and unnervingly soothing. “You may call me Nihil. I’ve come to assist you.”
Wallace didn’t lower his guard. “Assist me? Why should I believe that?”
“Because your brother has been sealed away,” Nihil replied, his tone as even as if he were discussing the weather. “And I suspect you lack the time to debate my motives.”
Wallace’s eyes widened slightly. “Sealed? Who the hell could even manage to seal him?”
“Yoo-hoo, over here!” called a mocking voice from the hallway, cutting through the tension like a knife. Wallace spun around to see Pandora leaning casually against the doorframe, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. “That would be me, of course. Sealed him up nice and tight—just long enough to ruin your little day.”
Stolen story; please report.
“Want me to answer your question in detail?” Nihil asked, his tone as placid as ever.
Wallace shook his head, his body vibrating with barely contained rage. “No. I don’t care how it happened. Let’s go save my brother.”
“Wise choice,” Nihil replied, inclining his head. “Though I would advise caution. Pandora is far more dangerous than he appears.”
“Dangerous? Oh, you flatter me, Nihil,” Pandora quipped, pushing off the doorframe with exaggerated flair. “But come now, Wallace. Don’t you want to hear my side of the story? It’s a good one, I promise.”
Wallace ignored him, his hand going to the blade strapped to his back. He glanced at Nihil, his expression tight. “I don’t trust you, but for now, I don’t have a choice.”
“Trust is irrelevant,” Nihil replied. “Action is all that matters.”
Without another word, the two rushed toward Pandora, who stood grinning like a cat that had just cornered its prey.
Meanwhile, back within the death-laden barrier, Cynthia’s form convulsed, the purple glow of her veins intensifying. Her head snapped up, and for the first time, her twisted, glowing eyes locked onto the trio still standing against her.
A sudden, inhuman shriek ripped from her throat as she raised her hands. Dark energy coalesced at her fingertips before erupting into a torrent of shadowy bullets. The projectiles screamed through the air, their speed and sheer number making them nearly impossible to dodge.
“Move!” Iris shouted, throwing up a wall of flame to intercept as many bullets as possible. Her fire hissed and crackled, consuming the shadows, but some still slipped through.
Maxwell used his wings to shield himself, the radiant feathers deflecting most of the projectiles, though a few clipped him. Anya darted and rolled, her smaller frame making her harder to hit, but she wasn’t unscathed. A bullet grazed her leg, leaving a streak of blackened flesh in its wake.
Iris wasn’t as lucky. One of the bullets struck her shoulder, punching through her flame barrier and embedding itself deep into her flesh. She screamed, her sword of flames flickering as her concentration wavered. The wound oozed dark, viscous blood, and her skin around the injury began to discolor, turning an ominous shade of purple that pulsed with necrotic energy.
“Iris!” Maxwell shouted, his wings flaring as he darted toward her.
“I’m fine,” Iris gasped through clenched teeth, though her pale complexion betrayed her words. “Focus on Cynthia! We can’t let up now.”
Maxwell hesitated, torn between helping her and dealing with the immediate threat. Anya, clutching her wounded leg, glared at him. “Don’t be stupid, wings-for-brains! If you stop now, she’ll kill us all!”
Cynthia let out another blood-curdling shriek, her body pulsating with an aura of pure malevolence. The dark energy coiling around her surged outward, forming more shadowy bullets at her fingertips. This time, they didn’t fire straight but spiraled wildly in unpredictable patterns, like living creatures seeking prey. When they struck the ground, they detonated with force, sending shockwaves that rattled the floor and threw the trio off balance.
“This isn’t just her fighting,” Iris muttered, her voice tight with pain as she struggled to steady herself. The corruption spreading from her wound sent searing jolts of agony through her body. Her flame-wreathed hand trembled but didn’t falter. “It’s like something else is controlling her…”
“Yeah, no kidding!” Anya snapped, ducking behind a pile of debris for cover. Her eyes darted frantically, seeking an opening. “Thanks for stating the obvious, genius.”
Maxwell stood firm, his fists tightening as golden swords of radiant energy materialized in his hands. His wings flared, illuminating the dim, death-laden barrier with a divine glow. “I’ll make sure to save her,” he said, his voice resolute. “I won’t let them win.”
Iris smirked weakly, reigniting her flames despite the corruption threatening to sap her strength. “Big talk, golden boy,” she retorted, a flicker of admiration in her eyes. “You’d better back it up.”
Meanwhile, Anya let out an exasperated groan, her hands fumbling in her pockets. “How did I get dragged into an assassination plot meant for you two?” she shouted, pulling out a ring and slipping it onto her finger. “And why wasn’t I warned ahead of time?”
With a sharp click, a large chainsaw materialized in her hands. Its serrated teeth roared to life, glowing faintly with crimson energy. She hoisted it with ease, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Fine. If we’re all dying, I’m making it messy.”
Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed through the barrier as a steel beam slammed against its surface. Again and again, the beam struck, causing cracks of light to ripple outward like spiderwebs. Outside, Charles stood with a determined expression, his telekinesis hammering relentlessly at the barrier.
“Iris!” Charles called, his voice ringing with urgency. “I’ve got you! I won’t let anything happen to you!”
Inside the barrier, Anya rolled her eyes. “Knock it off, lover boy,” she muttered, deflecting a volley of bullets with her chainsaw. “This isn’t the kind of fight you want to crash.”
“Oh, but trust me,” Charles shot back, his telekinesis focusing on a single point of the barrier. His brow furrowed, sweat beading on his forehead as he forced a hole through. “For Iris, I absolutely do.”
With a final burst of telekinetic force, Charles tore a gap in the barrier and leaped through, landing beside Iris. Without missing a beat, he grabbed Anastasia’s discarded suitcase of weapons and opened it, arming himself with precision.
“I swear,” Anya muttered, swinging her chainsaw to intercept another wave of bullets. “The teachers keep calling us prodigies, but clearly, you’re all just idiots.”
Charles ignored her, his twin pistols already in hand as he nodded toward Iris. “I’m here for you,” he said earnestly, his gaze locking with hers. “You can count on me.”
Iris managed a grateful smile despite the pain twisting through her body. “Thanks, Charles. It means a lot.”
Maxwell glanced at the group, his eyes blazing with determination. “Focus up,” he commanded. “We need to restrain her at the very least. Anya and Iris, you handle close-range combat. Charles and I will stay at a distance and cover you.”
“Got it,” Iris replied, her flames flaring brighter.
“Whatever you say, captain,” Anya added with a mocking smirk, revving her chainsaw for emphasis.
“I’m with you,” Charles said, his pistols spinning deftly in his hands. “Let’s do this.”
The four stood united, a makeshift team forged in the chaos. Cynthia’s glowing eyes bore into them, her body surging with dark energy. The battle ahead was certain to test every ounce of their strength, but together, they braced for the storm.
The barrier crackled with dark energy as Cynthia unleashed another volley of death bullets. The air vibrated with the force of her attacks, the bullets whistling through the gym like a swarm of angry hornets. Iris raised her flaming sword, the heat radiating from it forming a shimmering shield. The bullets struck the wall of flames, hissing as they disintegrated into harmless embers.
“Keep it up, Iris!” Charles shouted, his telekinetic powers flaring. With a flick of his wrist, he redirected several bullets that veered too close, sending them spiraling back toward Cynthia. His aim was precise, targeting her joints to limit her movement. The bullets struck her knees and elbows, but the dark energy surrounding her absorbed the impact, leaving her unscathed.
Anya charged forward with a wild grin, her chainsaw roaring to life. “Let’s see how you handle this!” she yelled, swinging the serrated blade in a wide arc. Cynthia conjured a black scythe in response, the weapon glowing with malevolent energy. Sparks flew as the chainsaw and scythe collided, the sheer force of the clash sending Anya skidding back a few feet.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Anya taunted, recovering her footing and revving the chainsaw again. She lunged forward, her strikes becoming more aggressive, forcing Cynthia to parry and dodge.
Meanwhile, Maxwell hovered above the battlefield, his angelic wings glowing with radiant light. His hypercognition kicked into overdrive, analyzing Cynthia’s movements and identifying patterns in her attacks. “Her aim is getting more erratic,” he called out, his voice calm but urgent. “She’s trying to force us into a mistake. Stay focused.”
With a sharp flap of his wings, Maxwell dove down, aiming to distract Cynthia. He slashed at her with blades of golden light, the attacks slicing through the death energy around her. Cynthia twisted her body unnaturally, dodging the strikes with an almost inhuman fluidity. In retaliation, she conjured twin daggers and threw them at Maxwell, their edges crackling with lethal energy.
Maxwell twisted mid-air, his wings folding in to dodge the projectiles. “Charles, cover me!” he shouted.
“On it!” Charles responded, his hands glowing as he redirected the daggers with his telekinesis. The blades spun back toward Cynthia, who deflected them with her scythe.
Iris, seizing the opening, rushed forward with her flaming sword raised high. She swung with all her might, the flames trailing behind the blade like a comet. Cynthia blocked the strike with her scythe, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the gym. Iris gritted her teeth, pouring more energy into her flames to push Cynthia back.
“You’re not taking us down!” Iris yelled, her determination burning as brightly as her flames.
Cynthia hissed in response, her glowing eyes narrowing. She raised her free hand, summoning a massive hammer made of death energy. She swung it downward, forcing Iris to leap back to avoid the crushing blow. The hammer struck the ground with a deafening crash, creating a shockwave that sent debris flying.
Anya darted in from the side, her chainsaw roaring as she aimed for Cynthia’s midsection. Cynthia twisted her body again, her movements unnervingly smooth, and retaliated with a swipe of her scythe. Anya barely managed to block the strike, sparks flying as the chainsaw’s teeth clashed with the scythe’s blade.
“Maxwell, now!” Anya shouted, gritting her teeth as she held her ground.
Maxwell surged forward, his wings flaring as he slashed at Cynthia from above. The golden light of his blades cut through the dark energy surrounding her, forcing her to step back. Charles took advantage of her momentary distraction, using his telekinesis to hurl several gymnasium benches at her. Cynthia shattered them with a swing of her hammer, but the effort slowed her down.
“She’s losing her momentum!” Charles yelled. “We’ve got her on the ropes!”
For a brief moment, hope flickered among the group. But Cynthia, now cornered, let out a guttural scream. The dark energy around her expanded violently, pushing everyone back. She stood in the center of the battlefield, her weapons glowing brighter, her form radiating an overwhelming aura of death.
In Fate’s library, the air grew heavy as Pandora materialized behind his siblings. Eden’s fiery gaze shot to him, her aura crackling with restrained anger.
“I thought you were too busy orchestrating chaos to pay us a visit,” Eden snapped, her voice sharp.
Pandora chuckled, the sound low and menacing. “Chaos runs itself once it’s properly set in motion,” he said smoothly. He raised his hand, fingers glowing with his Authority. “Authority of Error: Error of Self.”
A ripple spread through the air, and a duplicate of Pandora stepped forward from his shadow. The two stood side by side, identical in every way, their golden eyes glinting with malevolence.
“Now,” they said in unison, their voices blending into a chilling harmony, “let’s begin phase two of this delightful little boss fight.”
With a synchronized snap of their fingers, the gymnasium below shook violently.
Within the barrier, Cynthia’s body twisted and convulsed, her screams echoing like a chorus of the damned. Black wings erupted from her back, massive and jagged, dripping with corrosive death energy. Each falling feather burned and disintegrated whatever it touched, leaving scorched marks on the gym floor.
Her transformation didn’t stop there. A massive scythe materialized in one hand, its blade pulsating with an ominous glow. In her other hand, a shield formed, its surface swirling with an endless vortex of shadows that seemed to absorb all light around it. Her eyes burned brighter, her movements now eerily graceful, as if she had become death incarnate.
Maxwell, Iris, Charles, and Anya froze, their breaths catching as they took in her new form.
“She’s evolved,” Maxwell muttered, his hypercognition racing to process the sudden escalation. “This isn’t just raw power—she’s become something else entirely.”
“She’s become a nightmare,” Anya whispered, gripping her chainsaw tighter. “And we’re trapped in it.”
In the library, Pandora watched the scene unfold with glee, his grin widening. “A good boss battle should always have phases, don’t you think?” he said, addressing his siblings without looking at them. “A simple fight to the finish is so... boring. My Dead Faces are masterpieces of despair, crafted to crush hope at every turn.”
Eden’s fists clenched, her aura flaring. “You’re playing with lives, Pandora. They’re children, not pieces in your twisted game!”
Pandora turned to her, his expression mockingly innocent. “Oh, dear sister, don’t act like you don’t enjoy watching it unfold. Fate certainly does.”
Fate sipped his tea, his expression unreadable. “Your theatrics are tiresome, Pandora,” he said coolly. “But I’ll admit, you’ve made things… interesting.”
“Interesting?” Eden spat, her voice trembling with fury. “This isn’t a game, Fate. This is a massacre!”
“For what reason should I be afraid, dear sister? I’m still guaranteed to win,” Fate said, as he sipped his tea with a malicious smile.