* Act 3 *Crossing Boundaries

Fonder stood at the edge of the cliff, the smoke from his cigar curling up into the now-clearing air. He eyed the trio with a cold, calculating stare, the acrid taste of the gas still lingering in the back of his throat. He puffed slowly, taking his time, savoring the moment.

“Hand the girl up,” he growled, his voice thick with menace. “Do that, and maybe I’ll just walk away.”

Bass and Mary exchanged a glance, their minds racing. Neither believed him for a second, but the weight of Fonder’s demand hung in the air. Zipper remained quiet, though her hands began to rummage through the pockets of her oversized coat. Fonder sneered as he continued, “I can wait till you get tired. You’ll come to your senses.”

Bass, stalling for time, smirked. “How do you like Clifton’s gas?”

In response, Fonder struck a match and lit his cigar, taking a long, deliberate drag. “I’ve smelled worse.”

That’s when Zipper made her move. From her coat, she withdrew a series of palm-sized stone tablets, each one inscribed with strange, ancient symbols. Bass and Mary glanced at her curiously as she sorted through them, finally selecting one in particular. The others were slipped back into her coat.

With a focused intensity, Zipper raised the Medium into the air, her voice steady. “I call the Wind Guardian, Fengalon. We are servants of the Guardians, and we need your help.”

The air around them shifted suddenly, as if the entire atmosphere was drawn into the center of the gorge. Wind howled through the canyon, kicking up dust and scattering the remnants of Clifton’s toxic gas.

Fengalon’s arrival warped the environment around them, the sheer force of his presence bending the winds as though the very air bowed to his will. His massive claws dug into the earth, and his glowing red eyes glared down at the small group. The wind guardian’s voice, deep and resonant, rumbled like thunder.

“I am Fengalon,” he declared, his voice booming across the gorge. “The one who cannot be controlled by anyone. I am the Guardian of the Wind.”

Bass and Mary were frozen, their jaws slack in awe at the sheer size and power of the beast before them. Even Fonder, normally unshakable, took a step back, his composure slipping. He narrowed his eyes, pulling Mistress free, and fired a shot at the Guardian.

The bullet never reached its mark. Fengalon merely flicked his massive claw, releasing a powerful gust of wind that caught Fonder mid-motion. The torrent lifted him off his feet and flung him back toward the distant train tracks like he was no more than a leaf in a storm. He tumbled across the ground in a cloud of dust, his cigar crushed beneath him as he slid to a stop.

“Bass, help me with Zipper!” Mary shouted, snapping out of her stupor. They scrambled up the side of the cliff, lifting Zipper up as she held the remains of the summoning stone in her hands.

Fengalon lowered his massive head to look at the small Elw girl, his expression softening ever so slightly. Zipper gazed up at him, her face full of childlike wonder. “I just wanted to meet you, Fengalon,” she said, her voice sincere. “But, if you feel like going east to the other side of the gorge, we’d love to ride with you.”

The Wind Guardian’s eyes flickered with confusion. “Go east? I cannot simply go anywhere. I am bound to the Medium.”

Without hesitation, Zipper took the Medium—the very stone tablet she had used to summon him—and snapped it in half. The pieces clattered down into the chasm below.

Fengalon recoiled in shock, his massive wings flaring as he let out a low growl. “What have you done?! I said I cannot be controlled, but now that you have broken my bond, I... I don’t know what to do.”

Zipper smiled up at him, her green eyes twinkling. “Go be the Guardian of the Wind. Do what you were meant to do.”

For a moment, Fengalon seemed at a loss, his immense presence faltering. But then, slowly, he nodded. “You have freed me from my tether, child. I am grateful. Now, climb aboard—I will carry you across.”

Bass, still skeptical, looked at the enormous beast. “Are we really supposed to ride this thing?” he asked, eyeing Fengalon warily.

The Wind Guardian glanced down at Bass and chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “Do not fear, boy. I sense great courage in you.”

Bass sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” he muttered. “I just didn’t want to push Mary into it.”

Mary shot him a glare, her pride stung. “Push me into it? Don’t flatter yourself, Bass.” She turned to Fengalon, who bent down toward her. “Let’s get this over with.”

With surprising gentleness, Fengalon picked Mary up in his massive jaws, carrying her as delicately as a mother cat would carry her kitten. Bass and Zipper climbed onto the Guardian’s broad back, holding on tight as the massive creature spread his wings and leaped into the air.

They soared higher than they needed to, the wind whipping past them, carrying them far across the gorge. From above, the wasteland below seemed small and distant, and for a brief moment, it was like they were free from all of the troubles and dangers that had plagued them.

But as they neared the other side, Fonder, having recovered from his earlier toss, fired his ARM again. The shots echoed through the sky, but they were too far away now for him to hit his mark. He cursed loudly as he watched them disappear into the distance.

Fengalon landed gracefully on the far side of the gorge, depositing Mary on her feet and allowing Bass and Zipper to dismount. The Guardian turned his great head toward them, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you for breaking my bonds,” he said. “But do not dally here too long. I feel my primal instincts returning. I must go.”

With that, the Wind Guardian gave one last mighty flap of his wings, stirring up the wind around them. Then, in a swirl of air and dust, Fengalon faded into the sky, leaving nothing behind but a gentle breeze.

As the trio continued their journey across the strange, eerie westlands, unaware of all the pairs of eyes watching them from afar, a new force loomed closer, one far more dangerous than they could have imagined. High on a rocky outcropping, standing just beyond the horizon, a cloaked figure observed them intently.

The wind tugged at the dark, tattered cloak draped over the smaller female form. The figure's body was wrapped in bandages from head to toe, as if trying to hold something back, or perhaps to contain a force beyond understanding. Her short dark hair whipped in the breeze, framing her pale, cut face—an expression twisted with both determination and a malevolent smirk. When she opened her mouth to speak, a single sharp canine tooth glinted in the moonlight.

This was Phalanx.

Ranting to the sky, she raised her arms dramatically. "The Guardians… they've returned to Filgaia. This can only mean one thing. It must be a sign of the coming endtimes!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the canyon below.

Her eyes flashed with wild excitement as she clenched her fists. "I, Phalanx, must be the one to bring about the Great Stain Paradigm! The world must tremble before the Encroaching Parallel Dimension. It is my destiny as the Great Destroyer!"

Her ranting grew more fevered, as if she were talking not only to herself but to the heavens above. "I must find a Guardian… invoke the power… and bring Filgaia to its knees!" Her expression turned maniacal, and for a moment, a strange, ethereal energy seemed to pulse through the bandages wrapped around her form.

She glanced down at the small group in the distance, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Them... The Elw girl... they hold the key to the Guardians' power. If I follow them, I’ll find my way to the Guardians—and then, the Stain Paradigm will begin."

With one final vow to the sky, Phalanx began her pursuit, trailing the trio from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. Unbeknownst to them, the real danger had only just begun.

Fonder stood at the edge of the cliff, watching in bitter silence as Bass, Mary, and Zipper soared across the chasm on the back of the giant winged tiger. His eyes narrowed as the massive creature, Fengalon, faded into the wind, carrying them safely beyond his reach. His fists clenched around the handle of his ARM, Mistress, the black metal cold against his skin.

“Nadja, did you find Rin? I shot him again.”

Nadja shook her head. “No, I didn’t see him. But Sawyer found a blood trail.”

Fonder glanced around, a scowl on his face. “He’s around here somewhere. Probably invisible. It don’t matter.”

Nadja folded her arms and gave him a pointed look. “It matters to me. If you want my help, you’ll have to explain yourself. No more half-truths, Fonder.”

Fonder’s scowl deepened, but he could see Nadja wasn’t bluffing. Reluctantly, he turned back toward the others, his grip tightening on Mistress. The game had changed. And things were about to get much more complicated.

Beside him, Nadja watched, arms folded, her expression unreadable. She broke the silence first. “So, what’s the deal, Fonder? Why are you chasing that girl so hard?”

Fonder didn’t answer immediately, his gaze still fixed on the horizon where the trio had disappeared. Finally, with a long exhale, he spoke, his voice low and gruff. “If I bring that girl to the President…” He hesitated, almost reluctant to admit it, but then he continued. “...they’ll make me a member of the Wild Bunch.”

Nadja’s eyebrows shot up, genuinely surprised. She hadn’t expected that. “The Wild Bunch?” she echoed, glancing at him sideways. “You’re serious?”

Fonder nodded, his eyes still hard and determined. “That’s the deal. That’s why she’s so important. If I deliver her to President Henry, I’ll have a place with them. Permanently.”

Nadja leaned back slightly, her arms still crossed as she considered his words. The Wild Bunch—legends in Filgaia, heroes who had saved the world once before. It was a coveted position, one that would cement Fonder’s name in history. She understood now why he was so relentless, why he wouldn’t stop until the girl was in his hands.

“Well,” she said after a beat, “you’re gonna have to work a lot harder than that if you want to catch them now.”

Fonder grimaced but said nothing. His jaw tightened, and he turned away, pacing along the cliff’s edge. The wind tugged at his duster, his thoughts racing. He wouldn’t stop now. He couldn’t. Not when he was this close.

Nadja watched him carefully, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t fully trust Fonder, but this admission told her something important: he was driven by something far more personal than just a job. This was about power. Legacy. And that made him dangerous.

“Then I guess we better get moving,” Nadja said, turning back to Sawyer, who was still silent behind them. “Because the Wild Bunch don’t wait around for anyone.”

Fonder didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. He would stop at nothing to secure his place among legends.

As they walked through the unfamiliar territory, Bass, Mary, and Zipper found themselves on the wrong side of the vast precipice. The journey toward Tomney Gulch seemed impossible now, the gap between them and the rail station too wide to cross. At least they were safe from Fonder and his wicked ARM. Bass broke the silence first, his tone cautious as he mentioned the strange terrain ahead.

“There’s some odd territory between us and the next station,” he said, scanning the horizon. “Not the kind of land you want to get caught in without a plan.”

They pressed on, the wind carrying the scent of dry earth and something unfamiliar. After a while, the quiet became too much, and Bass turned to Zipper, finally asking the question that had been on his mind since the cliff.

“So... what was the deal with that giant tiger back there?”

Mary, equally curious, nodded. “Yeah, you kind of pulled that thing out of nowhere, kid.”

Zipper glanced up at them, a small, mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She reached into her coat, rummaging around before pulling out a small, square stone tablet. It was etched with strange symbols that neither Bass nor Mary could decipher.

“This,” Zipper explained, holding it up, “is called a Medium. It’s an ancient piece of technology that’s connected to the Guardians.”

Bass leaned in, peering at the stone. “Guardians?”

Zipper nodded, her eyes bright with excitement. “Guardians are... well, they’re like deity-like beings. They each represent an element, or something really important in the world. The Guardian I summoned earlier was Fengalon, the Guardian of Wind. Guardians have incredible magical power, but most of them can’t manifest physically anymore. Their energy was used up a long time ago.”

Mary furrowed her brow as she tried to make sense of it. “Used up? Doing what?”

Zipper shrugged, the Medium still resting in her palm. “It depends on the Guardian. Some of them used their power to fight and protect Filgaia—there was this great battle with the Metal Demons a long time ago, and the Guardians spent so much of their energy that they lost the ability to stay in the physical world. Now, only Luceid, the Guardian of Desire, can maintain a physical presence. But that’s because human desire keeps him going.”

“Desire, huh?” Bass mused. “Sounds like that one could be trouble.”

Zipper grinned. “Luceid is... complicated. He’s not really good or bad. He just exists, feeding off human desires. But the other Guardians? They’re all forces of good. They used to help the people of Filgaia, especially the Elw and the Baskar—they’ve always believed in them.”

Bass exchanged a glance with Mary, unsure what to make of it all. “So, you can just... summon these things? Just like that?”

Zipper tilted her head and shook the Medium a little. “Only with a Medium. It channels the Guardian’s power. When I used it, I asked Fengalon for help, and he answered. But...”

She trailed off, her expression becoming more serious.

“But?” Mary prompted.

“But Fengalon is free now. I broke his Medium, so he’s not bound to it anymore. I... I don’t know what happens next.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “You just broke it like that? That seems... dangerous.”

Zipper sighed, glancing down at the now-broken Medium. “Guardians don’t like being controlled, even if they’re willing to help. Fengalon wanted freedom, so I gave it to him. But without the Medium, I can’t summon him again. He’s gone now, doing what Guardians do—protecting Filgaia on his own terms.”

“No more giant flying tigers, then?” Bass quipped, a half-smile playing on his lips despite the seriousness of the situation.

Zipper shook her head. “Not unless we find another way to contact him.”

Mary crossed her arms, deep in thought. “We’re in a strange world, Bass. I think we’ll be seeing more of this Guardian stuff before all this is over.”

Bass nodded slowly. Guardians, ancient powers, and strange forces—this was way beyond what he had ever expected when they first took Zipper under their wing. Whatever they had stumbled into, it wasn’t just a job anymore. This was something far bigger than any of them, and now, with Fonder hot on their heels and the girl holding secrets tied to the very fabric of Filgaia, it was clear there was no turning back.

Bass adjusted his hat and glanced toward the distant horizon, where unfamiliar terrain awaited them. He wasn’t sure what they’d encounter next, but one thing was certain: they were walking a path far stranger and more dangerous than they’d ever imagined.

As they moved, Bass couldn’t shake a feeling of recognition. He had heard of the Guardians before. Raised by the Baskar, the tales of the ancient protectors of Filgaia were familiar to him, though he never thought he’d see one up close—let alone ride one. The stories of the Guardians, always mystical and distant, now felt more real than ever.

“Guardians, huh...” Bass muttered, his voice thoughtful. “Yeah, I’ve heard of them. The Baskar—my people—still believe in them. Said they’re always watching over Filgaia, even if they don’t show themselves much anymore.”

Mary gave him a surprised look. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

Bass shrugged, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Didn’t seem important until now. The stories were mostly just that—stories. My elders always talked about the Guardians like they were part of the world itself, keeping balance or whatever. They said the Elw were connected to the Guardians, but most of us thought it was just old myths.”

Zipper, listening intently, nodded. “It’s not just myths. The Guardians are real. They’re out there, but... they don’t have the power they used to. They’re barely holding on.”

“Because of what happened in the past?” Mary asked, recalling Zipper’s mention of the Metal Demons.

Zipper nodded again. “Yes. The Guardians used up their power, and now they can’t intervene in Filgaia’s affairs like they once did. They’re still there, but they need people like us to summon them—people who can connect with them through the Mediums.”

Bass rubbed his chin, a deep frown settling on his face. “So the Baskar weren’t wrong, then. They’ve been worshipping the Guardians all this time, even though most people don’t believe in them anymore.”

Zipper looked up at him, her green eyes shining. “The Baskar still believe because they’re right. The Guardians are real, and we need them. Filgaia needs them.”

Mary shook her head, as if trying to wrap her mind around the enormity of it all. “Well, I guess it’s lucky we’ve got you, kid. Seems like you’re the only one who can reach them now.”

Zipper smiled but didn’t respond. The weight of what she carried—the responsibility of connecting with these ancient powers—seemed heavy, even for her small frame.

Bass remained silent for a moment, letting the conversation drift. The stories from his youth, once distant and mystical, were now very real. But they weren’t just myths anymore—they were tied to something much bigger than even the Baskar could have imagined.

Whatever lay ahead, Bass knew one thing for sure: if the Guardians were truly watching, they had more to do with this journey than he had realized.

The trio continued making their way across the desolate terrain, the wind whispering through the barren landscape; they were all quietly musing to themselves and enjoying the painted rock formations that abounded around the area.

Standing on a cliff in the distance was a small figure, shrouded in a tattered cloak that billowed dramatically in the wind. Bandages fluttered around her form, and her stance was exaggerated, like an actor preparing for a grand stage entrance.

“At last! I have found them!” the figure bellowed, her voice carrying across the barren landscape. “Tremble, mortals, for I am Phalanx, the Great Destroyer of Filgaia, the one chosen to invoke the Stain Paradigm! Witness the beginning of the end, as the Encroaching Parallel Dimension consumes this world, starting with you!”

The trio stopped in their tracks, blinking in confusion. Phalanx's grandiose proclamation, combined with her theatrical flair, left them more bewildered than fearful.

“Uh... is she talking to us?” Bass asked, his brow furrowed in disbelief.

Mary, arms crossed, looked up at the distant figure and shrugged. “She seems to be. But I think she might be aiming a little high.”

Zipper tilted her head, squinting at the cloaked figure on the cliff. “She’s not very tall. Are we supposed to be scared?”

Phalanx, hearing their casual banter, became visibly indignant. Her foot stomped the ground in frustration, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

“You dare mock the chosen one?! I am your doom!” she shouted, her voice rising in pitch. She pointed down at them with a dramatic flourish, her sharp canine glinting in the light. The trio exchanged amused glances, unsure whether to take her seriously. Her small stature and bandage-wrapped form didn’t help the confusion.

Phalanx, frustrated by their apparent lack of fear, began to rant once more. Her voice echoed across the desert, now more filled with fury.

“The Guardians’ return marks the beginning of the end! You will fall before my might, and Filgaia will be devoured by the Encroaching Parallel Dimension! There is nothing you can do!”

Bass leaned toward Mary, muttering, “I think she’s been standing in the sun too long.”

Mary shrugged again, a faint smirk on her lips. “Should we humor her? Maybe we can get her to leave.”

But before they could act, Phalanx raised her hand, her cloak swirling around her as she conjured a burst of cosmic energy. Without warning, she blasted a nearby boulder into dust, the explosion sending shockwaves rippling across the ground. Pebbles scattered around them, and the trio ducked instinctively.

Bass shielded his eyes from the debris and stood up slowly, eyes wide with surprise. “Okay, maybe we should take her a little more seriously now.”

Now that Phalanx had given them a glimpse of her true power, the mood shifted. The trio realized that despite her over-the-top behavior, Phalanx was genuinely dangerous. Her voice carried a more sinister tone as she continued to rant.

“Did you think me a fool? The Stain Paradigm is inevitable! I will tear through your world, and the Guardians cannot stop me!”

Raising her hand once more, Phalanx began to warp the air around her. The ground beneath their feet rumbled as reality itself seemed to distort, twisting in unnatural ways. Space shimmered and bent as Phalanx’s Reality Distortion came into play. The trio stumbled, struggling to maintain their balance as the ground shifted beneath them.

Mary’s hand went to her weapon, her expression now serious. “Alright, she’s not kidding around. This just got serious.”

Zipper, wide-eyed, ducked behind Bass. “I didn’t think she could actually do that…”

Bass grimaced, the ground still rippling beneath them. “I don’t think any of us did.”

Phalanx, her overconfidence radiating off her in waves, began to manipulate the terrain around them. Rocks and debris were pulled toward her, forming a swirling mass of chaos as she prepared for a full-scale assault. What had started as a comical encounter had quickly turned into a real threat. The trio exchanged worried glances, realizing they needed to act fast before things spiraled out of control.

Phalanx continued her tirade, her voice growing more manic as she paced along the crumbling edge of the cliff. “The Kuiper Belt will encroach into Filgaia, devouring this universe! I, Phalanx, shall act as its Herald, and foretell the destruction of this wretched world! Nothing will stand in my way!”

Her cosmic powers flared with every sentence, sending blasts of energy in all directions. Painted rock formations that had stood for eons shattered and crumbled beneath the force of her attacks. The vibrant colors of the stones vanished into clouds of dust and debris, turning the once-beautiful landscape into a ruinous wasteland.

As Phalanx ranted, her focus remained on the sky and the destruction around her, completely losing track of her actual targets.

Bass, Mary, and Zipper exchanged glances, a mixture of amusement and disbelief on their faces.

“She’s... still going,” Bass muttered, crouching behind a pile of debris.

Mary nodded, keeping her voice low. “I think we can just slip out while she’s busy blowing everything up.”

Zipper peeked over the rocks, wide-eyed. “Is it really okay to leave her like that?”

Mary smirked. “She’s doing a fine job of keeping herself entertained. We’ll be long gone before she even notices.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

With Phalanx entirely engrossed in her self-destructive rampage, the trio quietly retreated, taking advantage of the chaos. They crept through the crumbling rock formations, moving away from the blast zone. Phalanx, meanwhile, continued her grand display of power, unaware that her intended targets had already left the area.

By the time Phalanx finally noticed that she was alone, the cliff beneath her feet began to crack. She spun around in a panic, realizing too late that her overzealous attack had destabilized the ground. With a loud rumble, the cliff crumbled beneath her, sending her tumbling down with the remains of the painted rocks.

But by then, Bass, Mary, and Zipper were already far away, safely out of sight.

Fonder, Nadja, and Sawyer trudged along the edge of the gorge, eyes scanning the jagged landscape below as they tried to find a way across. The uneven terrain was making it difficult to spot anything, and the trio grew increasingly frustrated. Fonder squinted in the distance, convinced that Bass, Mary, and Zipper were somewhere on the other side.

"Must be parallel to us," he muttered, gripping the handle of his ARM tighter as if it might help him see better. “Ain’t nowhere else to go but south.”

As they continued, a sudden burst of light exploded far off to the southeast. Phalanx’s chaotic attack was in full force, her cosmic powers flaring like fireworks in the distance. The sky itself seemed to ripple under her onslaught.

Nadja paused, her eyes widening as she watched the spectacle from afar. "What in the hell is that?"

"That's gotta be them. The girl’s probably callin' another one of those giant creatures or somethin'. We need to get over there, fast."

Sawyer, ever the practical one, stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Looks like we ain’t getting across here unless we get creative."

Fonder shot him a look, clearly agitated. "We need to get across now."

Sawyer grinned, gesturing toward a nearby forest of towering cacti. "Got just the thing. Give me three minutes, thirty seconds."

Without waiting for an answer, Sawyer revved up his ARM, the chainsaw buzzing to life with a mechanical growl. In one fluid motion, he moved toward the cactus forest and began slicing through the massive plants like butter. Each cut was precise, every piece falling into place as if by magic. His ARM wasn’t just a tool for destruction—it was for construction too.

As Sawyer worked, the forest of cacti was quickly transformed into a sturdy, if prickly, bridge. Within minutes, he had crafted an elegant, functional crossing that spanned the gorge. The cacti were expertly notched and interlocked, creating a seamless structure.

Nadja grimaced, eyeing the now-barren landscape where the cacti once stood. "All that for a bridge? Seems a bit excessive."

Fonder, already stepping onto the bridge, scoffed. "Sacrificed a whole lot more than some dang ol' cacti. Let's go."

Sawyer grinned as he admired his handiwork. "Ain't nothin' to it."

Sawyer, clearly pleased with his creation, gave the cactus bridge a pat and started into a detailed explanation. “See, what I did here was take into account the natural tensile strength of the cactus fibers. You might think they’re soft, but with the right cuts—"

Fonder cut him off, already halfway across the bridge. "Save it for tonight, Sawyer. You can tell me all about it when I’m tryin’ to get some sleep."

Nadja, smirking, chimed in, "So that's why you keep him around, huh? Helps with your insomnia?"

Fonder grunted, not bothering to respond as he continued across the cactus bridge, intent on reaching the other side and closing in on Bass and the others.

Thinking on Sawyer’s skills for a moment, and why he kept him around, he thought about why he kept her around. And then he thought of both of them the same. How could he use them both equally here to narrow the gap?

As Bass, Mary, and Zipper crested the rise, their eyes caught sight of something promising—a bridge spanning the gorge ahead. Relief was short-lived, however, as something peculiar came into view, soaring through the sky toward them.

Sawyer, a towering figure of a man, was paragliding through the air. His makeshift hang glider was built from cacti and his own leather costume, a rugged contraption held together by grit and ingenuity. Shirtless, his hairy chest gleamed in the sunlight, sweat glistening off the ringlets of fur covering him like an absolute ape of a man. His wind-blown beard, wild and thick, flared out around his face, barely restrained by the red sweatband hugging his head. His hazel hair, receding though it was, caught the wind, making his entire appearance one of chaotic manliness.

Nadja’s Gust Crest Graph propelled the hulking mountain man through the air, his massive form cutting a strange, almost absurd figure against the sky. As he glided overhead, Bass, Mary, and Zipper could only stare in disbelief.

Sawyer detached from the hang glider mid-air, drawing his chainsaw ARM as he plummeted toward the ground, revving it up with a deafening roar. With a loud crash, he landed in front of them, forming a crater in the earth beneath his burly boots. Standing tall at 6’5”, with a muscular, hairy chest heaving from the exertion, he wiped his brow, his bushy eyebrows nearly covering his eyes beneath the low-slung sweatband.

Without preamble, he spoke, his deep, gravelly voice commanding attention. "Leave the girl behind," he said, the chainsaw ARM roaring to life in his hand. "And walk away."

Bass, Mary, and Zipper stood frozen for a moment, taking in the absurdity of the situation—an ape-like man, soaring in on a cactus glider, now demanding they surrender Zipper. It was clear this would not be an easy fight.

Bass hesitated as he reached for his ARM, but Mary’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. "Maybe hold off on that," she suggested with a sly grin. "Might be better if they don’t know you can use it just yet. Could give us an edge."

Bass frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "You sure about that?"

Mary shrugged. "It’s a card we don’t have to play just yet."

Reluctantly, Bass holstered Peacemaker, taking the whip Mary handed him. He held it awkwardly, inspecting the leather coils. "You know how to use this?" Mary asked.

"Not in battle," Bass admitted, giving it a few experimental flicks. "That’s because people don’t usually use whips in battle."

He snapped it through the air with a quick motion, only to misjudge the angle, slashing his own chin slightly. With a sheepish grin, he tried again, narrowly avoiding repeating the same mistake. He laughed at himself, wiping the small cut.

Sawyer, still standing in the crater he had made with his landing, observed the scene with mild amusement. "Guess that means you ain’t gonna leave the girl, huh?"

Mary stepped forward, her gaze steady. "You’ve never seen anything like my Fast Draw."

Sawyer’s eyes narrowed. "That waits to be seen."

Without further words, the battle began.

The air crackled with tension as Mary and Sawyer squared off, their eyes locking with an intensity that could burn through steel. Sawyer’s chainsaw ARM roared to life, the teeth spinning violently, kicking up dust and small rocks from the ground. Mary, calm and poised, shifted her stance, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword, still sheathed at her side. Her Fast Draw technique was ready, but she knew she’d have to pick the perfect moment to strike.

Sawyer made the first move. With a wild, primal yell, he swung his chainsaw in a broad arc, cutting through a nearby rock formation like it was paper. Chunks of stone were sent flying toward Mary, but she danced around them, her movements swift and fluid. Each step was calculated, her footwork impeccable as she dodged the incoming debris, her eyes never leaving Sawyer.

He followed up with another brutal swing, this time carving through the ground itself. The earth trembled under the force of his assault, but Mary remained nimble, ducking low and rolling to the side, her sheathed sword deflecting smaller chunks of rock as she moved.

"Come on!" Sawyer growled, his beard bristling with frustration. He thrust his chainsaw forward, aiming to cleave her in two.

Mary sidestepped, the hum of the chainsaw passing dangerously close to her. With a sharp turn, she used the flat of her blade to parry the strike, guiding it harmlessly away. Her counter was immediate—she drew her sword in a blinding Fast Draw, the steel flashing as it cut through the air toward Sawyer’s chest.

But Sawyer’s reaction speed was remarkable. His chainsaw shot up, the spinning teeth clashing with Mary’s blade in a shower of sparks. The force of the block sent a vibration up Mary’s arm, but she held steady, locking eyes with her opponent.

"You’ve got some moves," Sawyer grunted, pushing back against her. He swung his chainsaw low, carving through the ground again and sending a wave of dirt and rocks toward her. As the dust cloud engulfed them both, Sawyer began constructing. His chainsaw moved in precise, lightning-fast strokes, cutting through debris and fallen cacti to form a wall between them. Within seconds, he had created a fortified barrier that shielded him from her attacks.

Mary, caught momentarily off guard, was quick to recover. She dashed to the side, searching for an opening. Her sword remained sheathed as she circled around Sawyer’s makeshift wall. She knew another Fast Draw would be wasted against his defenses—she needed to wait until he was vulnerable.

Sawyer, however, was relentless. He surged from behind his barrier, his chainsaw roaring as he swung it with wild abandon, cutting through the environment as if the terrain itself were a weapon. The sharp teeth of his ARM cleaved through a cactus, sending the large segments flying at Mary.

She parried one with her sheathed sword, spun around another, and used the momentum to close the distance between them. She was within striking range again. This time, her blade flashed from its sheath in a precise arc aimed at Sawyer’s midsection.

But Sawyer was ready. His chainsaw met her blade again, blocking the strike. The force of the clash sent a shockwave through the ground, but neither gave an inch.

"Impressive," Sawyer grunted, a grin forming beneath his thick beard. "But it ain’t gonna be enough."

He swung low, aiming for her legs, but Mary leaped back, narrowly avoiding the strike. Sawyer pressed his advantage, cutting through a nearby boulder and sending more debris her way. Mary dodged left, then right, her movements graceful, her sword remaining in its sheath as she focused on evasion.

Sawyer, noticing her restraint, smirked. "You’re holding back, aren’t you?" He swung his chainsaw high, forcing Mary to duck under the blow. "You think you can just block and dodge forever?"

Mary said nothing, her eyes focused, her breathing steady. She was waiting, watching for that perfect moment when Sawyer would overextend, when his wild strength would leave him open.

But she just couldn’t see it.

At the peak of their heated battle, the sudden sputter and silence of Sawyer's chainsaw broke the tension. The teeth of the chainsaw slowed to a stop, the once-menacing roar fading into a pathetic whine. Sawyer blinked, staring at his now-lifeless weapon.

He attempted to restart it a few times, yanking on the chainsaw’s mechanism, but the weapon only sputtered helplessly. After a few more tries, it became clear—his ARM was out of power. Sawyer’s expression shifted from one of fierce determination to sheepish disappointment, his broad shoulders slumping a little.

"Well, this is embarrassing," he muttered. "Anyone got a few spare ARM bullets?"

Mary, still holding her sword at the ready, blinked in disbelief. "Bullets? For a chainsaw?"

Sawyer nodded solemnly, already looking more sad about his ARM than the battle. "Technically, it's the energy inside the bullets. Gas compression, really. You see, the—"

Bass cut him off with a sincere, almost apologetic tone. "Sorry, man. I only got four ARM bullets left to my name, and—"

Mary silenced Bass with a sharp gesture. "He can’t spare them," she snapped, eyeing Bass. "His ARM isn’t even real."

Bass winced, his expression darkening at the reminder, but he said nothing.

Sawyer, for his part, sighed deeply, resting the now-useless chainsaw on the ground. "Well, now what?" He scratched at his beard, glancing back toward the cactus bridge. "I went and made that bridge outta the cacti, and then I used my outerwear to make that hang glider—which, by the way, is gone now. Guess I used up too much energy doin' all that DIY stuff." He held up his hands, the palms riddled with tiny punctures. "And my hands are covered in cactus wounds. So much for that."

He kicked a small rock, clearly disappointed. "I’m probably done with all this for now. Tell ya what," he added, looking at Mary, "how about we take a rain check on this duel? You ever want to finish it, you can look me up in the mountains."

Mary raised an eyebrow, amused despite herself. "Which mountains?"

Sawyer scratched his head. "Dunno yet. Still figurin' that part out. I’m going back to pick up my new dog, and then it's off and upwards."

With that, the tension in the air eased, the fight over for now, and the trio was left watching as the once-threatening mountain man started to shuffle off, nursing his wounded pride and his cactus-pricked hands.

Fonder and Nadja watched as Sawyer trudged toward them, his broad form slouched, his shirtless chest glistening with sweat and covered in dirt. The once-proud mountain man looked bedraggled, defeated, and worn out.

Fonder crossed his arms, eyes narrowing as Sawyer approached. "What happened back there?"

Sawyer shook his head, sighing deeply. "I ran outta ARM bullets. Chainsaw’s dead. I’m gonna need to head back to the mountains, trap hides, and save up to buy more."

Fonder snorted. "We get the girl, we’ll have all the money we need. What’s the problem?"

Sawyer wiped the sweat from his forehead with a heavy hand. "I dunno, boss. My spirit just ain’t in it this time. Plus, someone should probably check if Clifton’s still alive. You made me leave my new dog back at camp, also. I need to figure out how to get back there now, too."

Fonder stared at him for a moment, then gave him a pat on the shoulder. "You do that, good buddy."

Sawyer nodded and started to walk off in the opposite direction, his figure slowly disappearing into the distance. Fonder turned to Nadja, who watched Sawyer go with a raised eyebrow.

"Which way did Bass take the girl?" Fonder asked.

Sawyer paused and pointed south without looking back. "That way."

Fonder frowned. "You didn’t tell them we were coming, right?"

"Nah, didn’t say a word," Sawyer called back, his voice weary.

Nadja tilted her head thoughtfully. "We can use that. Let’s trail them slowly. They’ll think they’ve lost us, relax, maybe stop to rest. That’s when we strike."

Fonder grinned darkly. "I like the way you think."

As Bass, Mary, and Zipper admired the dizzying depths of the canyon below them while crossing the bridge, a sudden roar erupted from beneath, cutting through the calm. Before they could react, Clifton, the crazed gasman bomber, shot up from the ravine on a rocket pack, landing squarely between them. Zipper stood on the far side of the bridge, while Bass and Mary were stuck on the near side, with Clifton grinning madly between them.

"I’ve been waitin’ for this!" Clifton cackled, adjusting his cracked, soot-covered gas mask. "The embarrassment you put me through—oh, I swear, I’ll flambe the lot of you!" His voice, muffled but still filled with manic glee, echoed across the canyon.

Mary immediately slid into her Fast Draw stance, her sword ready to strike. Bass, remembering her earlier advice, kept Peacemaker holstered, reluctantly holding the whip he still hadn’t quite mastered. Clifton, clearly relishing the moment, began pacing on the bridge, his boots thudding ominously against the planks.

"You think gas was my only trick? You’ve barely seen half of what I can do!" Clifton taunted, spinning his arms dramatically. "I’ve got bombs! The real deal!"

Mary, unimpressed, narrowed her eyes. "How are you even still alive after blowing yourself up?"

Clifton cackled again, waving a hand dismissively. "Alive? Oh, no, I’m a ghost of vengeance! I’m here to haunt you!"

Bass, Mary, and Zipper all stared at him, unamused. Zipper muttered, "That’s... pretty cringe."

Clifton, undeterred by their skepticism, activated his rocket pack. It shot him straight up into the air, but the device malfunctioned, making him spin awkwardly as he slowly descended. From above, he scattered small explosives, forcing Bass and Mary to dive in opposite directions to avoid the blasts. The bridge creaked ominously as the bombs detonated around them.

Suddenly, Bass got an idea. He eyed Clifton as the madman ascended once more, preparing to drop more bombs. "If I shoot that rocket pack while he’s at the top..." Bass muttered to himself, aiming Peacemaker.

But Clifton saw him. With a wicked grin, he fired two small rockets straight at Bass. Mary leapt into action, slicing through both rockets in mid-air, the resulting explosion knocking her back slightly as she winced from the impact.

Through the smoke, Bass took his shot. He missed the rocket pack but managed to hit the canister on the front of Clifton’s gas mask, knocking it loose. The gasman, clearly startled, frantically touched the now-exposed hole where his filter had been. But his manic grin returned as he rocketed higher once more.

Clifton, now high above them, pulled out a massive Erlenmeyer flask filled with a bubbling pink liquid. He dropped something inside, causing it to bubble even more violently. "This is it!" he screamed. "You’re doomed! I’ll drop this bomb, and nothing will—"

Zipper, peeking from her safe position, pointed toward Clifton. "Look! I think we might not need to do anything."

Bass and Mary looked up just as Clifton’s rant began to falter. The pink fumes from the bubbling flask were seeping directly into the hole in his gas mask. Clifton, now visibly confused, began to wobble in the air, his once-threatening monologue replaced with quiet, incoherent mumbling.

In a grotesque display of irony, the very fumes Clifton had weaponized were now incapacitating him. He rocketed upwards one last time, before his body went limp, and he plummeted back down onto the bridge. The impact shook the entire structure, and the resulting blast from the flask sent Mary tumbling off the side.

"Mary!" Bass shouted, scrambling to his feet as Zipper darted toward the far end of the bridge.

Bass himself was knocked onto his backside, coughing as the smoke from Clifton's failed attack swirled around him. As he regained his footing, he realized the danger was far from over.

The destruction of the bridge was sudden and absolute. The wooden planks shattered beneath the force of Clifton’s final, chaotic explosion, leaving nothing but smoldering debris and the vast, yawning canyon below. Bass, still dazed from the blast, pulled himself up from where he’d been thrown, only to realize that Mary was gone.

His heart pounded in his chest as he scrambled to the edge of what remained of the bridge, his eyes scanning the deep chasm below. There was no sign of her—just the swirling dust and smoke from the wreckage.

"Mary!" Bass shouted, his voice echoing across the canyon, but there was no response. His stomach twisted with a mix of panic and guilt. She had been right there, and now...

On the opposite side of the canyon, Zipper stood frozen, clutching her coat tightly as she looked back at Bass, her face pale. The vast gap between them seemed impossibly wide now.

"Zipper!" Bass called out, his voice strained. "Are you okay?"

Zipper nodded, though her wide eyes betrayed her fear. "What about Mary?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Bass swallowed hard, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I don’t know... but I’ll find her. Somehow."

They were separated now, with no clear way to reach each other, the remains of the bridge hanging precariously off both sides of the canyon.

As Bass stood at the edge of the gorge, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts, the sound of Fonder’s voice interrupted his turmoil. He turned to see Fonder and Nadja standing behind him, having finally caught up.

"Well, ain't this somethin'," Fonder said, his smirk widening. "You’re real stupid, kid. You’ve got no leverage now."

Across the gorge, Zipper stood, looking back toward Bass with concern. He shouted to her, "Keep running! I’ll find you!" Zipper stuck her tongue out at Fonder defiantly and took off running.

Fonder's grin faltered, and his expression darkened. "That was a mistake, Bass. Now you’re just a no-good traitor." He spat the word out like a curse. "You got nothin’ left."

Bass clenched his fists, his temper rising. "You lied to us, Fonder. We weren’t stealing gold—we were kidnapping."

Fonder shrugged dismissively. "Semantics."

Fonder looked Bass over, amused. "You look like you want to shoot me. That’s new. Tell ya what, I’ll give you a free shot." He drew his own gun, Mistress, but didn’t aim it—just gestured mockingly with it.

Bass's hands trembled as he drew Peacemaker, his anger barely contained. Fonder raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Attaboy. Go ahead. Take your best shot."

Bass aimed at Fonder’s head, his finger on the trigger. The moment hung in the air, tense, uncertain. He squeezed the trigger, and Peacemaker fired. But the bullet went wide, missing its target by a foot. Fonder ducked instinctively, rolling to the ground in shock. He had never expected Bass to actually shoot.

As Fonder took cover, his smirk twisted into something more sinister. "Well, I’ll be damned. You can shoot now." He quickly drew Mistress and aimed it at Bass. "Nadja, hit him with a Blast Crest so we can be on our way."

Nadja sighed, rolling her eyes. She raised her hand, the Crest Graph appearing in the air as a massive energy beam shot toward Bass. There was nothing Bass could do as the ray hurtled toward him.

But just before it struck, a shimmering barrier of magic materialized, deflecting the spell. Bass blinked in surprise, then saw Rin standing beside him, grinning lazily.

"Thanks, Fonder," Rin said, smirking. "You make bridge."

Fonder blinked. "What?"

Rin pointed to his torn pants. "Hole in pants. Number two."

Bass, still reeling from the near miss and Rin's unexpected reappearance, felt the weight of what just happened. He had the chance to kill Fonder and couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe Peacemaker wouldn’t have let him. Or maybe... he just didn’t want to.

Nadja, arms crossed, looked Rin over with exasperation. "Where have you been?"

Rin waved her off, his voice dry. "Not worry. Cry for pants."

Fonder, recovering from his shock, sneered at Rin. "Traitor."

Rin shrugged. "You shot legs. Break contract."

Nadja stepped forward, eyeing Rin with interest. "Well, he didn’t break my contract. So what’s it gonna be, Rin? Fight me or leave."

The wind howled across the canyon, kicking up dust as Rin stood face-to-face with Nadja. Her magical rod hummed faintly in the air, a sign of the energy it held at her command. Rin, leaning on his familiar nonchalance, gave her a half-smile, though his eyes betrayed a seriousness rarely seen.

"You really think you can take me, Rin?" Nadja’s voice was sharp, cutting through the ambient noise. She twirled her rod lazily, as if waiting for an excuse to strike.

Rin shrugged, his fingers brushing the Crest Graphs tucked inside his coat. "Is no taking." He glanced toward Bass, who was still reeling from the failed shot. "Is you goingl."

Nadja’s eyes flicked toward Bass, her lips curling into a smirk. "Survival? You threw in with a kid who can’t even aim properly. What’s the plan here? Stand around and let all that Gella walk away. “What’s your plan, man?"

Rin’s face tightened, his hand gripping a Crest Graph. The air between them crackled with tension, both of them poised to act, yet holding back. He knew Nadja was strong—perhaps stronger than anyone in Fonder’s gang. And yet, she was bound by their history, just as much as he was.

"Plan?" Rin echoed, his voice low. "Plan is... don’t get shot again."

While Rin and Nadja faced off, Bass stood frozen, his mind replaying the failed shot over and over again. The weight of Peacemaker felt heavier in his hand now, as if mocking him for his hesitation. He had aimed, pulled the trigger, and yet... the bullet had gone wide.

Why couldn’t I do it? The thought burned in his chest.

His eyes fell to the revolver, the silver glint now dull in the dimming light. Was it the gun? Or was it him? Bass felt the uncertainty knotting in his stomach. Peacemaker had been with him for years, and yet it had never truly fired in a moment like this. He thought back to what Zipper had told him about the ARM—about resonance, about the power it held when he understood himself.

Did he even know who he was?

He glanced at Fonder, who crouched behind cover, his smirk still visible in the fading light. Fonder had mocked him, taunted him with that free shot, and Bass had blown it. What would Mary have done in his place? Could she have pulled the trigger?

But it wasn’t just about the shot. It was about who Bass was becoming. His whole life, he’d been chasing dreams, running from one thing to the next, never staying in one place long enough to make sense of himself. And now, standing here with Peacemaker in hand, he realized just how lost he truly felt.

The crackling sound of magic pulled him out of his thoughts.

The tension between Rin and Nadja hung thick in the air, the wind tugging at their clothes as they faced each other, their gazes locked. Nadja's grip on her magical rod tightened, the arcane symbols along its length glowing faintly as her power surged. Her lips curled into a smirk, the gleam of a predator ready to strike.

Nadja’s rod crackled with arcane energy, and as she locked eyes with Rin, the canyon air seemed to tremble with the power she commanded. Crest Sorcery wasn’t just a tool—it was her identity, her power. She couldn’t afford to lose this fight.

Nadja raised her rod, the symbols along its length glowing as she began to chant softly under her breath. "You should’ve never left, Rin. You’ll regret this."

Rin’s stance shifted, his hand slipping into his coat to retrieve another Crest Graph. His calm demeanor didn’t falter, though the tension was palpable. "Regret no concern. Contract is."

With a swift motion, Nadja unleashed Blast. A pulse of raw energy shot from her rod, aimed directly at Rin. The spell exploded outward, a shockwave reverberating through the canyon, sending rocks and debris flying. Rin barely had time to react.

But react he did.

He slammed a Shield Crest Graph onto the ground. A glowing barrier flickered to life, absorbing the brunt of Nadja’s spell. The force of the impact sent Rin sliding back a few feet, but he held his ground.

"Is all got?" Rin’s voice was light, mocking, though his grip on his Crest Graph tightened.

Nadja’s lips curled into a smirk, annoyed but determined. "I’ve barely started."

With a flick of her wrist, she cast Slow Down, targeting Rin with a wave of magic that aimed to sap his speed and response. The air shimmered as the spell took hold, and Rin felt the magic pulling at his limbs, slowing his movements.

But Rin had planned for this. His fingers traced another Crest Graph, and with a simple gesture, he activated Quick. The spell counteracted Nadja’s Slow Down, his body responding with heightened speed, canceling the effects of her debilitating magic.

Frustrated beyond reason, Nadja knew she had to overwhelm Rin, and her eyes gleamed with malice as she prepared to unleash one of her most devastating spells—Valkyrie.

Raising her rod high, she began the spellscasting, her voice echoing with ancient power. Seven glowing orbs appeared around her—each representing a different element: Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Light, Darkness, and Lightning. The orbs crackled with raw energy, circling her like predatory birds ready to strike.

Rin’s eyes narrowed as he watched the orbs spin into formation. He knew he couldn’t block all of them—there were too many, and the power they held was immense. His best option wasn’t defense—it was to run.

With a sharp motion, Nadja sent the elemental orbs hurtling toward him. They streaked through the air like comets, homing in on Rin with terrifying precision.

But Rin was ready. He sprinted to his left, narrowly dodging the Earth orb as it smashed into the ground where he had stood. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the earth, but Rin didn’t stop. The Fire orb shot past him, scorching the air with intense heat as Rin ducked behind a jagged rock for cover. The flames licked the stone, but Rin emerged unscathed.

The Lightning orb struck next, crackling with electric energy. Rin rolled out of its path just in time, feeling the static in the air as the bolt of energy crashed into the rock behind him, sending shards flying.

But the orbs kept coming. Wind tore past him, cutting through the air like a blade. Water surged like a crashing wave, soaking the ground beneath his feet, but Rin kept moving, his movements swift and precise. The elements chased him, but Rin was faster.

Finally, the last two orbs—Light and Darkness—converged, homing in on Rin from either side. He couldn’t outrun them both. With a quick flick of his wrist, Rin activated Field, summoning a shimmering barrier just as the orbs reached him.

The Light orb crashed into the barrier, sending sparks flying, while the Darkness orb exploded against it in a cloud of black mist. Rin stood firm, his barrier absorbing the impact, though the force of the collision sent ripples through the protective shield.

The elemental energy dissipated, leaving only scorched earth and a faint shimmer in the air where the orbs had struck.

Nadja, panting with exertion, stared in disbelief. Her most powerful spell had been dodged, outmaneuvered, and deflected. Rin remained standing, his Field fading away as he straightened up, dusting himself off.

"Is all?" Rin asked, his tone as calm as ever, though his breath came in heavier than before.

Nadja’s frustration boiled over. She had poured everything into that attack, and yet Rin had danced around it, mocking her with every dodge. Her lips curled into a snarl as she raised her rod again, but Rin’s steady gaze told her it was futile.

Nadja was furious, her chest heaving as she prepared to cast Valkyrie again. But this time, Rin wasn’t going to let her get the chance.

With a flick of his wrist, Rin activated Flash, his Crest Graph glowing with a blinding light. The spell erupted before Nadja could react, a searing brilliance filling the air between them. Nadja cried out, throwing her arm over her eyes to shield herself from the sudden burst of light.

"Argh! Damn you, Rin!" she hissed, stumbling back, her vision lost to the blinding spell.

Rin wasted no time. As Nadja struggled to regain her sight, he activated Suction. The Crest Graph pulsed with energy, and a strange force began to draw the magic out of the air. Nadja, still blinded, raised her rod to cast Valkyrie again, but the moment she tried to summon the elemental orbs, she felt the energy draining from her spell.

"What...?" Nadja gasped, realizing too late what was happening. The power she had intended to summon for her spell was siphoned away, feeding into Rin’s Suction. Her eyes widened as she felt her magic fizzle out before it could even form.

Rin stood calmly, his hand glowing with the energy he had just absorbed. “Rely on big spells, Nadja. Magic no about Power… is control."

Nadja, her frustration mounting, cast Dispel. The wave of magic spread out from her rod, wiping away the effects of Flash, her sight quickly returning. She blinked rapidly, her vision clearing as she fixed Rin with a venomous glare.

"You think you’re so clever," Nadja spat, her fingers trembling on her rod. "But I’m not finished yet!"

Rin, still calm, pulled another Crest Graph from his coat, the markings glowing faintly. He had seen this kind of desperation before—Nadja was on the edge of defeat, and she knew it. There was no reason to drag this out any longer.

With a swift, deliberate motion, Rin activated Prison.

A dark cage of magical energy began to form around Nadja, its bars shimmering with lethal intent. The spell was slow to build, but once complete, it would be inescapable. One hit, and it would be over for Nadja.

Nadja’s eyes widened as she recognized the spell. Her heart raced, panic setting in. She knew what Prison could do, and if she let it finish, it would be her end.

"No..." she whispered, fear flashing in her eyes.

Without hesitation, Nadja raised her rod and cast Escape. The air around her shimmered, and in an instant, her body began to fade. The last thing Rin saw was her furious expression before she vanished entirely from the battlefield, leaving only a faint ripple in the air where she had stood.

Rin let out a small sigh, lowering his hand as the Prison spell dissipated. He knew Nadja wouldn’t stay to finish the fight once she realized she was cornered.

"Is over," Rin said softly, more to himself than anyone else.