February 4th, 2033.
Montana awoke slowly beneath the covers of her bed, wrapped in silky purple sheets that caught the faint morning light filtering through her window, the fabric shifting softly as she stirred. The headboard and footboard, both finished in a deep, dark wood, framed the space with a quiet elegance that contrasted with her current state. She pushed herself upright, her hair matted and uneven, strands sticking out in every direction as if resisting any attempt at order. For a moment, she simply sat there. Still. Breathing.
Then she stretched.
A long, drawn-out yawn escaped her as she arched her back, only to fall backward onto the mattress again, one of her legs twitching involuntarily as a quiet groan slipped past her lips, the sound echoing faintly against the walls of her room. She lay there for a second longer before finally pulling herself out from under the covers, her feet meeting the cool, dark laminate flooring with a soft tap. Without another thought, she made her way to the bathroom.
With a tired sigh—something between exhaustion and routine—she grabbed her toothbrush and began brushing, her reflection staring back at her with half-lidded eyes as the motions became automatic. Outside her room, life had already begun moving. Her parents were in the kitchen, preparing breakfast as they always did. Her mother hummed softly to herself, a gentle, familiar tune that carried warmth, while her father moved with a steady, dutiful rhythm, focused and precise in every action.
Montana eventually stepped out of the bathroom, a towel draped over her head as she dried the remaining moisture from her hair, now dressed in her usual outfit, composed and ready for the day despite the lingering traces of sleep. She reached over to her bedside table, grabbing her phone and slipping it into her front pocket before turning back to her bed, straightening the sheets and smoothing everything into place with practiced efficiency.
Once finished, she moved toward her collection of books—a wide assortment ranging from informative texts to lighthearted, almost ridiculous reads—and scanned the spines with quiet consideration before selecting one. Something informative. Something steady. She settled into the chair positioned near the foot of her bed and began to read, flipping through the pages at a relaxed pace, pausing briefly after each turn to continue drying her hair with the towel draped over her shoulders.
Minutes passed like that. Quiet. Focused.
Then her parents called for her from downstairs.
"Coming!" the twenty-one-year-old shouted back, her voice carrying easily through the house as she stood, closing the book and returning it carefully to its proper place.
She stepped out of her room, leaving the door open behind her, and made her way down the staircase, the faint creak of wood beneath her feet accompanying each step. The smell of breakfast greeted her before she even reached the kitchen, warm and inviting. Inside, her parents had already prepared her plate and were in the process of making their own.
She smiled.
Then she sat down.
Picking up her fork, she began eating—eggs, bacon, two pieces of toast layered with grape jelly, and a glass of orange juice her mother placed gently beside her. The three of them eventually sat together, sharing a silence that wasn't empty, but comfortable. Familiar.
For a while, no one spoke.
Then her father broke the quiet.
"So, how was yesterday's training with the Cerberus, Dryad, and Centaur Monarchs? Did you improve upon anything? Fill in any gaps?"
Montana swallowed the sip of orange juice she had just taken, setting the glass down with a soft clink before answering.
"Yeah, it was like any other training day. Though, Weston was more into it than either one of us. And Ora didn't even show up. That guy..." she said, a slight scowl crossing her face, though it lacked any real bite behind it.
"So Weston is the one keeping the whole squad together, then?" her mother asked gently.
Montana nodded, taking another bite of bacon. "He was the one who set this training regime up in the first place. I'd be surprised if he was the one slacking off."
Her father leaned forward slightly. "You do understand that you need this, don't you?" he said, his tone firm but not harsh. "We've all seen the news. The Beasts of Ruin are getting stronger. We may have the Dragon Monarch to help us for a while, but if he disappears like the last one did…" His voice trailed off, the thought left unfinished, too heavy to complete.
"Relax, dad, it'll be fine," Montana replied, though her voice lacked full conviction.
"For now, it may be. But because he's here to help doesn't give you the right to slack off," he continued.
Montana didn't respond immediately. She just stared down at her plate.
"Please, honey," her mother said softly, reaching out with concern in her eyes, "I know we're asking a lot from you, but you need to understand… we care for you. Knowing that you're out there, risking your life for people you don't even know… it breaks us sometimes."
Under the table, Montana clenched a fistful of her shirt, her grip tightening as she tried to hold everything in.
"Right, and because of that, you need to take this seriously," her father added.
That was enough.
"What do you think I've been doing!?" she snapped suddenly, her voice rising as the table shook slightly from the force of her movement. "Day in, day out, ever since Weston started this whole thing, I have been working! I've been putting everything I have into my duties as a Monarch, as a training partner, as a daughter!"
Her voice faltered.
She looked down into her lap.
"And despite giving it my all… I feel like the weakest I've ever been," she admitted, a tear slipping free before she could stop it. "Am I really fit to be a Monarch…? Or was I chosen by mistake…?"
Her parents exchanged a glance, silent understanding passing between them before her mother moved first, wrapping her arms around Montana in a tight embrace while her father gently took her hand.
"Oh, baby, don't say that about yourself," her mother said, her own voice beginning to waver.
"That's right," her father added, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Don't discredit yourself because you may feel behind. Believe me when I say this—you're doing better than anyone in your position."
"But that's just it," Montana said, her voice quieter now, strained. "What would someone do if they were me? What even am I supposed to do?" She paused, searching—but not really searching.
She already knew the question.
"Who am I, really?"
Her father met her gaze, steady and certain. "You are many things, Montana. But a failure… a loser… is not one of them."
She exhaled slowly, looking back down at her plate.
Then her phone rang.
The sound cut through the moment cleanly.
She pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the screen. Weston.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Hey, our training begins in an hour. Be there or be squared," Weston said, his tone light, almost annoyingly so.
Montana sighed, standing from her seat. "How old are we?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," he replied, the grin in his voice unmistakable.
"Ugh, you're so annoying. And why are you saying that like I don't?" she shot back, gathering her plate and transferring the remaining food into a small plastic container.
"You do? Are you sure? Have you forgotten?" Weston teased.
"May 1st, 2015," Montana said without hesitation. "You're five years younger than Ora, and three years younger than me."
"Darn, you two are old as crap." Weston said after a whistle.
Montana rolled her eyes. "Careful, scientists might do experiments on you for being a talking fetus."
Weston chuckled. "That was a good one, I can't lie. But be here, okay?"
"You got it. Bye." Montana said.
"Bye." Weston said.
The call ended with a beep.
Montana turned back to her parents. "Welp, sorry. Weston wants me at the training grounds."
They both nodded.
"Okay. Stay safe, you hear?" her father said.
"And don't push yourself too hard," her mother added.
Montana gave a small nod. "I'll try not to. No promises, though."
With that—and a few quick kisses exchanged—she stepped out of the house, the door closing softly behind her as she left for the day ahead.
This was just one of the many days in the life of Montana Bristol. She was a very self conscious and lacked any self confidence whatsoever. This was not always the case. When she first became the Cetus Monarch, she was happy, strong, extremely confident, even gaining a small ego.
But over the years, she's realized that she was the weakest out of the Monarchs. In the beginning, she had known this, but did not care for it. But not, she really, really understood what it meant. She fully realized what weight that carried.
And that made her feel... disappointment. She had been training her body rigoursly, even before Weston started the training regime. Time after time, after time and again, for five years, it would always result in her getting nowhere. And what made her the most upset, was that she was the youngest out of any Monarch in the modern era that became one.
At just the age of 16, she had ascended into the role as a Monarch. Ora was the only exception, having become one at just 14, Anastasia at 18. Even Amelia and Weston, at just 17 was noth able to become a Monarch. She wondered if they felt how she did, even if just a little. Was there more common grounds to each other than only being Monarchs?
Did they feel that despair too? Did they feel that immeasurable void within themselves? Did they even have frequent talks with themselves? It could never be answered outright, for the sake of Montana's appearance as a strong-willed Monarch. But that didn't keep the want to know from eating away at her. To know that if she truly was... alone.
The training that day resulted in the awakening of Amelia Spring's Final Photosynthesis, and Weston Cooper's Space Piercer: Void. But it would also unlock something within Montana: hope.
She may have been beaten by how powerful Amelia and Weston's newly developed attacks were, but she knew that there was more for her to gain as well. The training session that day had ignited a fire within Montana, one that would not be easily burned out.
So she thought.
---
Febuary 5th, 2033, when Avallon alerted the U.S. Government to its location.
It was barely 6:20 in the morning, when Montana's phone began vibrating, the music of her ringtone going off, the White House called, waking her up from a peaceful slumber. She tried to grab the phone, her palm landing over her desk, handle to her drawer, and the button of her lamp, turning it on and blinding her temporarily—everything but what she wanted.
Finally, she grabbed the phone, unplugging it from charging at answered it.
"The Cetus Monarch, responding." Montana said groggily, her voice raspy.
"Montana, there's been a signal detected within the Ruin Zone." The woman said.
"A signal?" Montana asked, waking up slightly from her daze. "How is that possible? Wasn't there no possibility of that happening since the Stampede?"
"Yes, but somehow, it's happened. Your mission will be to go inside the Ruin Zone and locate the signal. We will also be sending Ora True along with you." She said.
"Understood. Be there in five." Montana said, immediately hanging up the phone.
She raced out of bed, grabbing clothes from her closet and dresser, undressing fully then encasing herself in a bubble as it cleaned her body. After, she absorbed all the water across her form and put it in the bubble, dropping it into the tub.
She hurriedly got dressed, then went down to eat a quick snack and drink some coffee, before writing a letter for her parents to read, letting them know where she was going. And immediately after that, she left her house. She used her bubble to quickly fly to the White House.
She arrived within two minutes, running inside the historic building.
Emmanuel sat behind his desk, looking grim as she walked in, improving it by a slight margin.
"Good morning, Montana." Emmanuel said, earning a nod from her.
"Good morning, sir." She said.
"I'm sure Abigail has already informed you of the situation?" He asked.
"Yes sir, a signal has been picked up in the Ruin Zone." She said.
"Good. Then I'm sure you're aware of how impossible it is for that to have happened, right?" Emmanuel asked, Montana responding with a nod.
This mission will be dangerous. Be careful, Montana, we still have no idea what's out there."
At the same time, Ora walked through the doors, and then begun Emmanuel's explanation and the sending off of the Cerberus and Cetus Monarchs—some of the country's strongest.
"Get me the Dragon Monarch. I want him on standby," Emmanuel Thatcher said, leaning slightly forward as he directed the order into one of the phones resting on his desk, his tone measured but carrying an unmistakable urgency.
Only a few minutes passed before Alma Alastor—the Dragon Monarch—appeared within the Oval Office, his arrival quiet yet commanding as his presence seemed to settle into the room with an almost unnatural stillness. He was dressed in black pants and matching boots, a brown trench coat draped over his frame, and a gray scarf wrapped around his neck and pulled up over his mouth, obscuring the lower half of his face while his hands remained tucked casually into his coat pockets. "You called?" Alma asked, his voice calm and direct as his eyes fixed on Emmanuel.
Emmanuel blinked in mild surprise at the immediacy of his arrival before letting out a small breath. "Oh, why are you here? I only wanted you to be ready in case something happened," he said, momentarily taken aback before regaining his composure. "I'm sorry for bringing you here this early into the day."
"It's okay if it's something serious. But a waste of time if not. So what did you need?" Alma replied, stepping forward until he stood directly in front of the desk, his posture relaxed but attentive, clearly expecting a reason worthy of his presence.
Without wasting time, Emmanuel reached into a folder resting beside him and pulled out a photograph, sliding it across the desk toward Alma. Alma picked it up and studied it, his eyes narrowing slightly as confusion flickered across his expression before recognition began to form. "A signal was picked up?" he asked, though his tone carried uncertainty as he lifted his gaze back toward Emmanuel, searching for context.
"What you're looking at is a signal that just went off not too long ago," Emmanuel explained, watching Alma carefully, though his answer did little to resolve the confusion written across the Dragon Monarch's face.
"But how is this important?" Alma pressed, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to understand the significance.
"Because the signal was found deep within the Ruin Zone," Emmanuel said, the weight of those words settling heavily in the room.
Alma's eyebrow raised almost immediately, the implication clearly catching his attention. "The Ruin Zone? How can that be? That place is filled with Ruin, nothing organic or even material wise can resist the affects there. Are you sure that it didn't come from above the land in space? Or deep beneath the Earth?" he asked, his tone sharpening as he began to analyze the situation more critically.
"We're... not totally sure," Emmanuel admitted after a brief pause, his expression tightening slightly. "It's only been roughly an hour or a little less since that signal appeared, and our researchers are still trying to make sense of it all. The best bet is to send somebody in there to see if it came from within, above, or below."
"So you're tasking me with that job?" Alma asked, tilting his head slightly, though before he could assume anything further, Emmanuel shook his head.
"No. We have sent the Cerberus and Cetus Monarchs instead," Emmanuel clarified, his voice steady as he continued, "They have been given a tracker of the signal and will investigate the surrounding and approximate area it originated from, to see if we need to fly into space, or dig underground."
Alma's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before he spoke again, his tone now edged with concern. "But isn't that a bit risky? What do they have that can defend themselves against the Ruin?"
"Montana can produce bubbles that keep her safe from the Ruin, and her Scatter Shot momentarily disperses the Ruin," Emmanuel explained, folding his hands together atop the desk. "As for Ora, he has Demon Projection, a form that he can never be killed while active. They have been sent together as the perfect counter to each other's weaknesses."
Alma considered this silently for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought before he gave a small nod. "I understand. So you wanted me on standby in case something happened?" he asked.
Emmanuel returned the nod, his expression firm.
"Not only that, but to be there in case they come across an E-F5 Beast of Ruin," Emmanuel Thatcher added, his tone firm and deliberate as he clarified the true extent of Alma's role in the unfolding situation.
Alma gave a small, understanding nod, his eyes lowering slightly as he processed the added responsibility. "I got it. So all I have to do is sit around for a while. Shouldn't be too hard. But, I'm going to go back home and tend to my ki... uh, things," he said, catching himself mid-sentence and adjusting his wording, clearly avoiding mentioning Jasmine and Max in a room filled with watchful eyes and layers of security.
"Understood. Be ready when I call. Hesitation may get someone killed," Emmanuel replied without hesitation, his voice carrying a quiet intensity that underscored the gravity of the situation.
Alma met his gaze and nodded once more, acknowledging the weight behind those words, before vanishing from the Oval Office in an instant, his departure so sudden that it left the space he occupied feeling momentarily hollow.
Emmanuel remained still for a brief moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the spot where Alma had just been. 'Huh...? Did he just teleport?' he thought to himself, the question lingering as the tension in the room refused to fade.
---
7:05 AM.
The Cetus Monarch had deployed a water-based forcefield around both herself and the Cerberus Monarch the moment their feet met the unstable ground of the Ruin Zone, the translucent barrier shimmering faintly as it resisted the corrosive influence pressing in from every direction.
Yet almost immediately, something unseen—something impossibly fast—began to strike against the barrier from all sides at once, its movements so rapid that neither of them could properly track it, the impacts coming in relentless succession like a storm of invisible blows. Montana strained against the pressure, her arms raised and trembling as she poured more energy into the barrier, desperately reinforcing it as each strike tested its limits, the forcefield rippling violently with every collision.
But desperation was not enough.
The onslaught intensified beyond what she could sustain, and with a sharp, splintering distortion, the barrier shattered.
In the same instant, the blur that had been attacking surged forward and solidified into motion, a hand latching around Montana's throat with crushing force, lifting her from the ground as though she weighed nothing at all.
"Montana!!" the Cerberus Monarch shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos as he reached out, only to watch helplessly as she was ripped away from him in less than a second.
Her body reacted immediately to the Ruin's exposure, her skin beginning to sizzle as thin trails of smoke curled upward, swelling welts forming rapidly across her flesh, filling with blood beneath the surface before distorting her appearance in grotesque patches. She coughed violently, blood spilling from her lips, before she was hurled downward with brutal force, her body slamming into the ground as the pressure caused the swollen blisters to burst, exposing raw, vulnerable skin directly to the Ruin's corrosive touch.
The figure that had moved with such overwhelming speed came to a halt a short distance away, revealing itself fully for the first time—a striking woman whose appearance carried an almost ethereal, mystical quality. She wore a long, flowing purple gown that brushed against the ground, paired with a matching hat that obscured the upper half of her face, while strands of grayish-purple hair shimmered faintly as though dusted with glitter.
"So I was right to activate Boost after all, huh?" Chelsea murmured to herself after a brief pause, her voice calm, almost pleased.
Montana forced herself upright despite the agony coursing through her body, a new barrier forming around her as she steadied her breathing, her wounds beginning to close as her blood was purified and drawn back into her system. She winced, her muscles tightening from the lingering pain, yet her stance remained firm.
"That little bubble of yours doesn't look like much, but it's resistant to physical attacks," Chelsea said with a faint smirk, her posture relaxed yet ready.
'How does she know? No, better yet, how was she able to even interact with it using just her hands?' Montana thought, her gaze narrowing as her body fully recovered. 'Is she using some kind of trick or ability?'
"And it seems that the bubble is the only thing that can protect you against the Ruin. I wonder how long you'll last under maintaining your bubble and the pain from being exposed to the Ruin," Chelsea continued, her stance lowering slightly as tension built within her frame.
"You know people tend to make mistakes when they're fighting against death itself. True Expression: Boost."
Her form vanished instantly.
"Wha—" Montana began, but her words were cut short as her barrier was struck with overwhelming force, sending her crashing down within its confines as the invisible assault resumed with even greater intensity.
She raised her hands again, forcing more energy into the barrier as sweat began to bead and run down her face, her teeth clenched tightly as she fought to stabilize it under the barrage. Her eyes darted frantically, trying to follow each impact as it came, attempting to track Chelsea's movements through instinct alone, but the speed was simply too much to keep up with.
And once again, the barrier failed.
It collapsed violently, leaving her exposed as the Ruin immediately began to eat away at her once more, her skin blistering and burning as new welts formed across her body. Before she could react, a sharp tug yanked at her ankle, and in the next instant, she was dragged across the ground at high speed, dirt tearing against her back as she struggled to break free.
She kicked desperately, but Chelsea's grip did not loosen.
With a sudden motion, Chelsea flung her forward, then closed the distance in a blur, driving her fist directly into Montana's stomach with devastating force. The impact forced another surge of blood from Montana's mouth as her body was launched backward into a dead stump, splintering it on impact before she rolled across the ground and came to a halt.
Almost instantly, Montana erected another barrier around herself, her injuries already beginning to mend once more.
'Dammit! She's got me in a tight pinch,' Montana thought as she pushed herself back to her feet, her breathing uneven but controlled. 'She'll keep doing this until someone runs out of energy. And if that someone is me... then I'm dead.'
Another strike slammed into the barrier.
'I need to figure out what that ability does. She can interact with and even break through my Flowing Capsule.'
Another impact followed immediately after.
'Damn... what a bad match up.'
A whirlpool suddenly formed beneath Montana's feet, swirling with controlled force, and the shift in energy caused Chelsea to disengage instantly, leaping back and landing several meters away as her expression tightened.
'What?' Chelsea thought, her eyes narrowing.
From the center of the whirlpool, Montana's spear rose slowly into her grasp, a red orb embedded just before its blades pulsing faintly with power. Montana caught it smoothly and spun it between her hands before slamming its base against the inside of her barrier with a heavy, resonant thud, her stance shifting into something more controlled, more deliberate, as she restrained her usual aggression.
"What's the matter? You were so confident a moment ago. Where did it all go?" Montana said, a smirk forming despite the tension.
'I don't like the look of that thing,' Chelsea thought as she studied the weapon carefully.
'Hopefully she only saw me descend down with Ora, and not move around fluently. Otherwise my plan of attack will be all for nothing,' Montana considered, her grip tightening slightly. 'Start attacking like before and see where that gets you.'
The hazy aura surrounding Chelsea—composed of soft pinks, whites, and faint glittering particles—began to dissipate, fading away entirely and leaving Montana momentarily unsettled by the shift.
Chelsea's primary ability, Mystic Presence, manifested not as a separate construct but as her very soul made physical, her body serving as the sole anchor to the material world, while anything detached from her form dissolved instantly, allowing her to shift between states of tangibility and intangibility with careful preparation.
One of its aspects, called, "True Expression: Boost", focused that presence inward, channeling it directly into her physical form rather than altering her state of existence, amplifying her strength, speed, and overall combat ability to extraordinary levels.
'That spear is giving me a bad feeling,' Chelsea thought, lowering her stance into a near crouch as she prepared her next move.
"True Expression: Greater Boost."
A sphere of energy formed within her palm, shifting and dividing until it separated into five smaller orbs that hovered briefly before she launched them forward in a single motion.
The projectiles struck Montana's barrier and shattered it instantly, fragments of energy dispersing outward as the attack cut into Montana's skin, forcing her to dodge back just before the damage became fatal.
Another aspect of Mystic Presence, called, "True Expression: Greater Boost," allows Chelsea to concentrate Mystic Presence into an object of whatever she wanted. This could range from weapons that weren't too mechanically complex, to giant hammers that could crush anything. It all involved their complex ingenuity.
'What the hell was that?!' Montana thought, immediately reconstructing her barrier as her wounds sealed themselves shut once more. 'She can attack from close AND long range? Not to mention her incredible speed.'
She clicked her tongue in frustration, her grip tightening around her spear as the battle escalated further.
Montana remained perfectly still, her breathing controlled and measured as she waited for the exact moment to act, resisting the urge to move prematurely despite the pressure bearing down on her from every direction.
'So she really can't move while that bubble is active, huh? But she can move vertically, up and down… which means lateral movement might still be possible, yet she's deliberately choosing not to, probably because it drains something she doesn't want to reveal,' Chelsea analyzed internally, her gaze narrowing as she studied Montana's stance with growing caution. 'It looks like her attacks are limited to close range, at least for now, and I don't know what she's planning, but if I get too close—even with my speed advantage—I'll be skewered instantly.'
'And it takes three seconds before I can fully become intangible. If she hits me before I can—' Chelsea's thoughts abruptly cut off.
In the very next instant, Montana's barrier shattered outward in a violent burst, fragments of water dispersing into mist as she surged forward, closing the distance in a single, explosive movement that brought her directly in front of Chelsea.
'What?!?!' Chelsea screamed internally, her composure fracturing under the sudden shift. 'She's choosing offense?!'
"Boost," Chelsea said sharply, but instead of reinforcing her body, the Mystic Presence flowed into her eyes, heightening her perception and accelerating her cognitive processing to unnatural levels.
The world slowed.
She weaved through Montana's assault with fluid precision, her body bending and twisting around each thrust of the trident as though she were slipping through the gaps of reality itself, her gaze tracking every subtle motion while Montana's body visibly began to deteriorate under the corrosive influence of the Ruin.
Montana's strikes gradually lost their rhythm, her breathing growing heavier as exhaustion and damage accumulated beyond what she had initially accounted for, forcing her to halt her assault as she panted, her body trembling under the strain.
"Boost," Chelsea uttered again, this time channeling Mystic Presence into her right arm, which surged with condensed power before she swung it forward at a speed that distorted the air around it.
Her attack halted abruptly.
Her arm had been caught.
Chelsea's eyes widened as she looked down, confusion flashing across her face as her strike was intercepted by what appeared to be a flowing, shifting wave that had manifested seemingly out of nowhere, its surface rippling yet firm enough to halt her momentum completely.
Before she could fully process it, she saw Montana moving again, attempting to capitalize on the opening, forcing Chelsea to react instinctively as she twisted her body and backhanded the incoming strike away, only for Montana to duck beneath it and envelop her other hand within another wave, shaping the battlefield in real time.
Chelsea's form flickered.
In an instant, she vanished from that position entirely, reappearing several meters away, freed from the trap just before it could fully close around her.
Montana immediately reformed Flowing Capsule, though this time her movements were slower, her body showing far more visible strain as the Ruin's effects compounded with each passing moment. The more times Montana casts Flowing Capsule, the more gradually reduced the amount of healing becomes, until it is as fast as human regeneration.
And the signs of that deduction began to show, keeping up with the damage of the Ruin Zone, but slower than the other casts.
'Did she just teleport…?' Montana questioned silently, her eyes locking onto Chelsea with a sharper focus.
'That was too close… far too close,' Chelsea admitted inwardly, straightening her posture while suppressing the lingering tension in her body. 'She lacks reliable long-range attacks, which means maintaining distance is still my best option, but…'
"True Expression: Greater Boost," Chelsea declared, forming another sphere of Mystic Presence in her palm, which quickly split into five smaller orbs that hovered momentarily before launch.
Montana reacted instantly, summoning four dense waves, the max she could at a time, in front of her as a defensive barrier, bracing herself for impact as Chelsea hurled the orbs forward with full force.
They passed straight through each one.
The orbs phased through the waves as though they did not exist, ignoring the physical obstruction entirely before colliding with the Flowing Capsule and shattering it on contact.
Chelsea was already moving.
Using the opening she created, she appeared directly in front of Montana, her speed amplified by Boost, and drove her fist into Montana's stomach before another barrier could be formed, knocking the air from her lungs in a single, devastating strike.
'I'll end this before she can touch me,' Chelsea resolved, her movements becoming even more aggressive as she circled Montana in a blur, repositioning behind her and slamming her knee into the center of her back, launching her forward into the dirt with crushing force.
Waves surged upward in a circle around Chelsea in response, but she vanished once again, reappearing ahead of Montana and driving her heel downward, smashing her into the ground before she could recover.
Chelsea drew back her fist, gathering power for a finishing blow.
Then the ground beneath them twisted.
A whirlpool erupted violently, swallowing the terrain where Chelsea stood, forcing her to leap backward just in time to avoid being dragged under.
Montana acted immediately.
She drove her spear into the heart of the whirlpool, channeling its energy upward into a massive wave that surged forward with overwhelming speed and force, aiming to crush Chelsea where she stood.
Chelsea allowed her body to phase, becoming intangible as the wave passed through her harmlessly, the water splitting around her form like a ghost moving through reality.
But as she began to solidify again—Montana was already there.
The trident pierced into Chelsea's abdomen with brutal precision, and in that same instant, the wound crystallized into ice, spreading rapidly from the point of impact.
Chelsea's breath caught as pain surged through her body.
She reacted immediately, pulling back her arm and slamming it into Montana's face with everything she had, Boost amplifying the strike enough to send Montana—and her weapon—flying backward.
Chelsea dropped to a crouch, clutching her abdomen as the ice continued to spread outward from the wound, her fingers trembling as she tried to tear it away before it could fully take hold.
The battlefield shifted again.
Waves crashed violently across the terrain, forcing Chelsea to look up in alarm as she scrambled to evade, narrowly avoiding one surge before another struck her head-on, knocking her backward and further disorienting her.
The pain worsened.
The limitation became clear.
Chelsea's Mystic Presence could not render her intangible while a foreign object remained embedded within her body, and Montana's ice—rigid, invasive, and spreading—met that condition perfectly, locking her into a vulnerable state she could not escape from through phasing alone.
Montana advanced as she saw Chelsea struggle.
Encased once more within the Flowing Capsule, Montana revealed what she initially wanted hidden, the absolute ability to move freely within Flowing Capsule. However, this was not the only thing she was willing to forfeit if it meant her victory. She closed the distance rapidly, her earlier hesitation gone, replaced with relentless intent as she pressed the advantage she had unknowingly secured.
She hurled her spear.
Chelsea was forced to move despite the pain tearing through her body, barely evading as the weapon passed by her, only for it to return instantly to Montana's grasp, who threw it again without hesitation.
And again.
Each throw was faster, more precise, forcing Chelsea to keep moving, her body struggling to keep up as the injury worsened with every motion. Not only did the ice grow more, but the pain and wound grow along with it.
Montana descended.
The moment her feet touched the ground, she surged forward, driving the Flowing Capsule directly into Chelsea's body with overwhelming force, slamming her into the dirt and pinning her beneath the crushing pressure of water and momentum combined.
"Greater Boost!" Chelsea exclaimed, the concentrated energy of Boost tearing itself free from her body and condensing within her palm, where it reshaped into the unmistakable form of a stick of dynamite, crackling faintly with unstable power.
Without hesitation, she drove the dynamite into the ground beneath her, and in the very next instant, a deafening explosion erupted outward, violently tearing through the terrain and sending both the Monarch and the Human of Ruin hurtling in opposite directions as the shockwave rippled across the battlefield.
They rose soon after, Montana staggering slightly as blood trickled down from her forehead while a pained groan escaped her lips, whereas Chelsea straightened with far less strain, her expression carrying not only traces of discomfort but a clear, unsettling excitement.
'That was awesome! I've never harmed myself with Greater Boost before!' she thought, a grin threatening to break through despite the circumstances. 'But it seems that it wasn't enough to kill her. Maybe Cannon was right… if that's the case, then I'll have to use my trump card to win this.'
'Greater Boost… again…?' Montana questioned internally as her gaze fixed on the lingering smoke still curling into the air. 'She can just create whatever weapon she wants like that? Don't tell me she could make something like a nuke…'
Montana grunted as she struggled to fully straighten her posture, the regenerative effects of Flowing Capsule noticeably weakened, diminished to the point where her recovery felt no more effective than that of an ordinary human body.
'I was planning on capturing her first before using Scatter Shot, but…' Montana hesitated, glancing down at her battered form as it slowly attempted to recover. 'I think I need to use it sooner. At the very least, it should clear the Ruin for a short time.'
At that moment, a massive shockwave tore through the environment, the ground trembling violently as thunder cracked overhead with a force that resembled a catastrophic storm forming directly above them, drawing both combatants' attention skyward where, miles away, Ora could be seen in his Demon Projection form.
Chelsea's expression tightened with fear at the sight, while Montana's face lit with relief and confidence, though that certainty shattered almost instantly as a blinding beam of light ascended from below and engulfed Ora entirely, consuming him within its radiance.
The expressions reversed.
Montana's confidence faltered into visible concern, while Chelsea's lips curled into a knowing smile.
"Judging by that face, I'd say you saw that," Chelsea said, her voice carrying just enough to reach Montana. "That was Cannon's ultimate move. Whoever your friend was… he's dead now."
The words were deliberate, calculated, and cutting, as both Chelsea and Cannon were already fully aware of the identities of the Cerberus and Cetus Monarchs.
"That isn't possible. Ora can't be killed while in that form," Montana replied, rejecting the reality before her eyes even as doubt began to seep in beneath her denial.
Chelsea tilted her head slightly, her tone almost casual as she delivered her next line. "Do you see him still in the sky?"
The simplicity of the question struck far deeper than any direct attack could have, forcing Montana into a silence she could not immediately escape.
"We both know what the answer is," Chelsea added, her voice laced more with taunt than reassurance.
Montana's fists tightened, one hand gripping her spear with increasing force as anger began to rise within her chest, fueled by fear, grief, and the possibility that she had just lost her closest ally.
"Since Cannon went all out, I guess I'll do the same," Chelsea said, extending her hand toward Montana as if offering assistance rather than preparing for escalation. "Bear witness to… Fake Expression: Conjuring Extras."
Chelsea's body began to glow, her form blurring before splitting apart into numerous identical versions of herself that filled the space between her and Montana, each one radiating the same presence as the original while their laughter echoed in unison with mocking undertones.
Montana stared at the spectacle with a mixture of confusion and unease, realizing too late that this ability had been concealed the entire time, and that any of the earlier close-range engagements could have easily been fatal had Chelsea chosen to use it then.
Yet despite their overwhelming presence, the illusions remained perfectly still, frozen in place like living statues whose sheer number created the illusion of motion, leaving Montana uncertain of how to proceed.
Scatter Shot presented itself as the most efficient option, capable of clearing the field instantly, yet it was meant to be reserved for the real Chelsea, not wasted on constructs that may not even pose a direct threat.
Even so, she refused to sacrifice it prematurely.
Then, all at once, the illusions moved, and in perfect synchronization, they spoke. "True Expression: Greater Boost."
Montana's eyes widened with immediate understanding and fear as she launched herself into the air, her body reacting before her thoughts could fully catch up, narrowly avoiding the incoming barrage of orbs that surged toward her with lethal intent.
She weaved through them as best as she could, twisting and shifting midair to evade each incoming projectile, but the sheer volume quickly became overwhelming, forcing her into a defensive retreat she could not maintain indefinitely.
Eventually, her movements faltered.
The orbs, far too numerous to track individually, passed straight through her barrier as if it were nonexistent, phasing through her body without resistance, leaving her suspended in confusion as she realized they had caused no immediate harm.
Below her, the illusions continued to watch, their expressions blending amusement with something more uncertain.
Montana landed, her gaze sharpening as she studied them more closely.
'So they really are illusions,' she concluded. 'I thought they were like the Dragon Monarch's clones, but these are completely fake.'
'Damn, she figured it out faster than I expected,' Chelsea thought from somewhere within the overwhelming crowd of duplicates. 'But that's fine… I only need another minute or two.'
Another aspect of Mystic Presence, known as "Conjuring Extras," allowed Chelsea to produce flawless replicas of her form, though these constructs were incapable of engaging in true physical or spiritual combat, transforming the battle into a psychological contest rather than a direct confrontation.
Chelsea had intended to maintain that deception longer, but Montana's condition had forced an earlier reveal than anticipated.
As Montana considered her next move, Chelsea was already preparing something far more dangerous, a technique steadily building toward completion with a remaining charge time of approximately one minute and thirty seconds, silently marking the beginning of a countdown that would decide which of them would survive.
'I'll have to use it,' Montana resolved, wasting no time as she drove her spear into the ground, causing a circular surge of water to erupt outward around her position.
"Offensive Defense: Ice Turret!" Montana shouted, repeatedly striking the wave before her as jagged formations of ice—blocks, shards, and dagger-like spikes—burst forth in rapid succession, tearing through the illusions and dispersing them in large numbers.
She pivoted immediately, planting her spear beside her feet before unleashing a powerful sweeping motion that summoned a massive wave towering like a building, which surged forward with overwhelming force toward the remaining illusions.
Hidden among them, Chelsea's eyes widened in genuine surprise as she immediately retreated, weaving through the collapsing field of illusions to position herself in an area the wave would not reach.
By the time the wave passed and the Ice Turret dissipated, the battlefield shifted once more.
In the sky above, hundreds upon hundreds of bubbles—nearing a thousand in number—materialized simultaneously, their presence alone enough to draw Chelsea's attention upward as her expression shifted from confusion to unease.
It was not merely their number that unsettled her... but the undeniable truth that each one contained Montana.
The bubbles descended rapidly, swarming the battlefield as they collided and burst in cascading detonations of water, forming a massive surge that swept away the remaining illusions and advanced steadily toward the real Chelsea.
'How is this possible?!' Chelsea thought, stunned by the sight. 'I thought her abilities were strictly water-based… when did she gain something like this?'
Chelsea turned and ran, the remaining illusions moving with her in an attempt to obscure her true position, as the tide of Montana's attack closed in behind her.
'She was hiding this all along… but what exactly do her clones do?' Chelsea thought, her mind racing as she forced herself to analyze the situation rather than panic, her eyes scanning the battlefield for any inconsistency she could exploit. 'If they function like mine, then they shouldn't be able to attack directly, and the real one shouldn't be vulnerable either… so what's the angle here?'
Her gaze narrowed as more bubbles burst across the terrain.
'Creating this many physical constructs should be draining her heavily, yet I don't see any follow-up after the explosions… the clones aren't pursuing me, they're just detonating… so she's burning through her energy just to wipe out my illusions?'
Chelsea's lips curled slightly. 'Is she trying to force a draw?'
The thought barely had time to settle before a bubble detonated behind her, releasing a powerful wave that surged forward and swallowed her whole, dragging her along against her will as she was carried across the battlefield, her body tossed within the current as the only true target caught in its grasp.
More bubbles descended rapidly toward her position, each one primed to detonate and overwhelm her with compounded force.
Before they could connect, the wave abruptly shifted, launching her upward into the air with violent momentum.
From below, another bubble erupted from the ground and shot upward, intercepting her trajectory midair, and as it burst—Montana emerged from within it.
Exposed to the Ruin, yet moving without hesitation, she drove her spear clean through Chelsea's back, the blade piercing through her torso as ice immediately formed and spread outward from both sides of the wound, locking her body in place.
"Scatter Shot!!" Montana exclaimed, her voice cutting through the chaos as a beam of light erupted from the tip of the spear protruding through Chelsea's chest, firing straight into the sky and dispersing the Ruin across a five-hundred-meter radius, tearing it apart as sunlight poured through the opening like fire igniting fuel.
Ice followed.
It rained down across the entire cleared area, shredding through the remaining illusions and piercing into Chelsea's body from every direction, drawing blood as the freezing effect spread rapidly through her already compromised form.
Scatter Shot normally obeyed a strict rule—forming a ten-meter radius around Montana that never harmed her. That rule was defiled by Montana herself.
The ice struck indiscriminately, tearing into both combatants, as Montana used Chelsea's elevated position as partial cover while still enduring the punishment of her own attack, her body being cut and pierced as well, yet she did not stop.
The attack subsided gradually, the artificial clearing in the Ruin Zone remaining open for a brief moment before beginning its slow restoration.
Montana forced Chelsea downward as they descended, a wild, unrestrained smile stretching across her face as they crashed into the ground, sending up a dense cloud of dust that rippled through the immediate surroundings.
She planted her foot firmly on Chelsea's neck, pinning her in place as she reached down and tore the spear free from her back.
With the weapon reclaimed, Montana stepped back slowly, her eyes locked onto Chelsea as her grin only widened, unhinged and unrelenting, the sheer intensity of the pain coursing through her body pushing her far beyond normal limits and into something far more unstable.
Chelsea stirred.
She pushed herself upright, her body trembling as she turned to face Montana, only to collapse onto her knees moments later, barely able to support herself.
Montana's expression did not change.
If anything, it grew worse.
"What the hell did you do…?" Chelsea asked weakly, her voice strained as she struggled to remain conscious. "I thought your abilities was water-based."
"And that was a fatal miscalculation," Montana replied, her grin never faltering. "I never produced clones… I simply manipulated water particles to reflect my image. A trick I learned from you."
Chelsea sagged further, her right hand bracing her against the ground as she forced herself to look up, a faint grin tugging at her lips despite everything.
"You're slippery… I'll give you that," she breathed.
"Hmm… from where I'm standing… you'll be giving me more than that," Montana said as she stepped forward and crouched in front of her, her movements deliberate and predatory. "Let's start with—" She knocked Chelsea's hat aside and seized her by the hair, yanking her head upward to meet her gaze. "—your life."
Montana made no attempt to form another Flowing Capsule, choosing instead to remain exposed, to embrace the pain and the adrenaline surging through her body, her mind slipping further into a manic clarity that blurred the line between confidence and madness.
Chelsea met her gaze and smirked faintly. "How about… Boost."
Mystic Presence surged through her body in an instant, restoring just enough strength and speed for her to break free from Montana's grip, slipping away and evading the immediate follow-up strike before countering with a blow of her own that sent Montana sliding backward across the ground.
Montana rose from it, still smiling.
Still watching.
'Using Boost just now cost me a few seconds,' Chelsea calculated as she turned and ran, forcing distance between them. 'Which means I need to stall long enough to recover that time.'
Montana gave chase immediately, driving her spear into the ground as she moved, summoning a massive wave that surged forward and swallowed her form as it raced after Chelsea with relentless speed.
Chelsea glanced back, a faint smile forming as she adjusted her path, weaving across the terrain while keeping just ahead of the pursuing surge.
Then, when the moment aligned—she committed.
Channeling every remaining trace of Mystic Presence into her legs, she launched herself forward with explosive force, the ground beneath her shattering on impact as the strain fractured the bones within her own body.
'This is it!!'
Orbs formed.
One in her right hand. One in her left. One at her feet. Then one at the center of her chest, precisely where Montana's spear had pierced through her earlier.
Then another appeared before her face.
They all began to spin.
Slowly at first, then faster, converging into a single, massive sphere that expanded rapidly, its size growing until it rivaled—and then surpassed—the towering wave advancing toward her.
"Fake Expression…" Chelsea began, her voice trembling under the weight of the energy she was forcing into existence.
Montana raised her spear toward the sky once more, her body already breaking under the strain of repeating the technique. "SCATTER SHOT!!"
The rule shattered again.
"FINAL TRUTH!!!" Chelsea screamed, pouring everything she had left into the attack as she thrust the massive sphere forward, colliding directly with Montana's spear.
The impact was immediate. And catastrophic.
An explosion erupted that dwarfed the surrounding mountains, consuming everything within its radius as the Ruin itself was violently displaced, pushed back even further by the overwhelming force of Final Truth, while a blinding white light engulfed the battlefield and a shockwave tore across the land for miles.
When it finally subsided, when the light dimmed and the winds stilled—Chelsea remained standing.
Barely.
Before her, Montana lay on her back, unmoving, her chest still, her right hand burned away to the wrist while the remaining portion of her forearm had been reduced to a charred, blackened state.
Chelsea swayed, her breathing ragged, her own condition no less devastating as blood poured freely from her wounds, her right arm completely gone, her left eye missing as crimson streamed from the empty socket.
Her vision blurred.
Her legs gave out.
She fell to her knees once more, her remaining hand barely keeping her upright as the full weight of the pain crashed down on her.
'It hurts…' she thought, her expression trembling. 'It hurts so much… I'm… crying…' Tears fell freely now, her smile fading for the first time.
Her thoughts came slowly, understanding barely passing through her brain. Everything to her moved in slow motion, or perhaps she was instead.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward Montana's motionless body, and the faintest trace of that smile returned. 'But I did it…' A long pause. 'I killed the Monarch.'
"Brother…" Chelsea whispered, her voice barely carrying as she exhaled weakly, "are you proud of me…?"
The final aspect of Mystic Presence, known as "Fake Expression: Final Truth," stands as the absolute pinnacle of Chelsea's power, embodying the full destructive potential of her ability in its most overwhelming and uncompromising form. Much like Cannon's Devastation, it demands a period of charge before it can be unleashed at full capacity, forcing its user into a vulnerable state where timing, positioning, and survival become just as critical as the attack itself.
However, unlike Devastation, Final Truth does not possess the inherent property of bypassing physical durability, meaning that its effectiveness is not rooted in inevitability, but rather in the sheer magnitude of force it delivers upon release. In terms of technical application and versatility, both True Expression: Greater Boost and Boost surpass it, offering far greater control, adaptability, and consistency in combat.
What separates Final Truth from those aspects, and what ultimately elevates it beyond them, is its singular focus on destruction—unrefined, overwhelming, and absolute in scale—an attack that does not rely on precision or finesse, but instead asserts dominance through the catastrophic force it brings into existence.
It is not elegant.
It is not efficient.
It is simply… oblivion.
---
Montana lay suspended within a vast, endless ocean whose horizon stretched so far in every direction that even the sharpest and most perceptive eyes would have failed to find its edge, while the water beneath her moved in slow, rhythmic currents and a gentle breeze traced itself across the surface, smoothing each wave into a quiet, almost unnatural calm.
Beneath her, however, a shadow began to form, immense and indistinct, shifting under the surface with a presence so large that its full shape could not be understood at once, and from behind her there emerged the head of something grotesque yet deliberate—a mole-like snout lined with rows of sharp, uneven teeth that extended all the way back toward a pair of enormous, owl-like eyes that seemed to watch with an unsettling awareness.
In a single, fluid motion, the creature dipped beneath the surface again, pulling its body with it as if the ocean itself parted to make way, and what followed was the gradual unveiling of its elongated form, revealing scales like those of an iguana layered across its body, its dorsal fins that traveled down its back dark and tinted with a purplish hue, dotted with pale white markings reminiscent of a whale shark, while its limbs stretched outward in long, skeletal proportions like those of a camel, ending not in hooves but in wide, amphibious feet shaped like those of a frog.
Only after nearly twenty seconds of its descent did the final portion of its body pass beneath her, ending in a tail shaped like that of a white-bellied tree pangolin, completing a silhouette so unnatural that it felt less like a creature and more like a collection of incompatible forms forced into a singular existence.
Montana's eyes opened halfway before twitching shut again, and her body slowly began to sink as though the ocean had decided to claim her without resistance, her face slipping beneath the surface until nothing of her remained visible and only the quiet water stretched outward once more.
She descended far below the surface, not yet reaching the depths of the midnight zone, when suddenly, from beneath her, a massive eye opened—an eye so large that it dwarfed her entire body—its iris and pupil glowing with a bright, piercing yellow that illuminated the surrounding darkness as though the sea itself had been given form.
"Do you know who you are?" The voice rose from below, deep and raspy, its distortion carrying through the water with a weight that seemed to press against her very existence.
Montana did not respond, her eyes closed and her chest unmoving, as though even the concept of breath had momentarily abandoned her.
"Do you know what you are?" the voice followed, this time carrying a faint edge of urgency that disturbed the stillness.
At that, Montana's eyes opened faintly, drifting upward toward the faint light filtering through the surface above, before opening fully as awareness returned to her, allowing her to realize that she was underwater and yet able to breathe without resistance and see with unnatural clarity, until her gaze fell upon her arm—or rather, what remained of it—revealing that it had been destroyed, half of her forearm burned into a blackened, lifeless state.
"Do you know why you are?" the voice asked again, slower now, as though the question itself carried more weight than the previous ones.
Montana did not answer immediately, her mind struggling as if it were interpreting language for the first time, while a flood of thoughts rushed through her—questions of identity, of purpose, of location, of the presence speaking to her—yet all of them collapsed beneath the singular weight of what had first been asked.
Do you know who you are?
She floated above the unseen mass of the creature, her eyelids lowering halfway as if she were slipping into a dreamlike state, and after what felt like an immeasurable stretch of time, she finally spoke.
"I don't know."
"Then you are lost," the creature responded almost immediately, its tone unchanging as it continued, "Do you know who you are while being lost? What you have lost? Why you have lost?"
"I do not know," Montana answered once more, her voice distant and hollow.
In an instant, the creature moved, its massive body defying its scale as its head surged upward and appeared directly above her.
"DO NOT LIE TO ME!" it roared, the force of its voice reverberating through the sea.
Montana did not react.
"I do not know," she repeated, her tone devoid of emotion.
"Then find it," the creature said calmly, and at those words, Montana's eyes snapped open.
Suddenly, she was lifted upward, breaking through the surface and appearing above it as she floated upon the water, and though she attempted to turn and dive back beneath to confront the creature again, her body refused to obey, allowing only a single motion as she forced herself upright, standing upon the surface itself.
Ahead of her, a disturbance formed as bubbles gathered and expanded, and from within them the creature rose once more, its form unchanged yet carrying an unsettling blend of horror and majesty.
"Hey! What did you mean by find it!" Montana shouted as she ran toward it.
Before she could reach it, however, she slipped and fell beneath the surface, her body sinking rapidly as panic set in and oxygen suddenly became something she desperately needed, her attempts to swim upward halted by an unseen pressure that held her firmly in place.
Her eyes twitched shut as her breath failed her, and then, almost instantly, they opened again as she found herself once more standing upon the surface.
"You do not believe in what you are asking," the creature said calmly, its earlier frustration completely absent.
"What?" Montana asked, confusion breaking through. "I don't understand."
And then she sank again.
Her eyes closed as her oxygen depleted, and once more they opened as she stood upon the surface.
"What was it that made you breathe? Was it the belief that you could, or the fact that you were?" the creature asked, its words only deepening her confusion.
Again she sank beneath the surface, and again she returned, irritation beginning to replace uncertainty.
"Okay, what the hell is going on??" Montana demanded, receiving no response.
"Hellooooo?" she called again, and this time the creature turned its head toward her.
"You keep coming back. Once more, because you believe you can, or is it the fact that you do?"
Again she sank, and again she returned, the repetition tightening its hold over her perception.
"What are you talking about? I can use more help than just rhymes and riddles," Montana said, exhaling in frustration as silence followed.
Her thoughts began to turn inward as she dissected the creature's words, examining their structure and intent, the repetition of who, what, and why, and the possibility that the answers were not meant to be given but realized, even as she sank once more beneath the surface.
This time, however, her breath did not leave her, nor did it diminish, remaining constant as though it had become as natural to her as her own skin.
The creature appeared beneath her again, both of its glowing yellow eyes fixed upon her descending form.
Then, in an instant, its head snapped above her.
"WHAT HAVE YOU BELIEVED IN??" it boomed.
Montana did not flinch, nor did she respond immediately, as her eyes slowly opened with a calm that had not been present before, her expression no longer uncertain but grounded in something steady and resolved.
"Of myself," she said simply.
The creature opened its massive maw, revealing a depthless darkness that consumed her entirely, before rising once more to the surface and releasing her back into the ocean, where it then lifted her gently onto its back.
Montana remained lying where she was, her body unmoving yet undeniably alive, as though something within her had awakened without the need for motion, anchoring her presence in a quiet certainty that had not existed before.
"Do you know who you are?" the creature asked once more, its voice no longer probing but expectant, as if it already understood the answer and simply awaited its confirmation.
"I am Montana Bristol, daughter of Adriana and William Bristol, the fourth Cetus Monarch, and the most powerful," Montana replied, her voice steady and unwavering, confidence no longer something she reached for but something that existed as a natural extension of her being.
"Do you know what you are?" the creature continued, its tone unchanged as the question pressed deeper into meaning rather than identity.
"I am a Monarch, a human chosen by a Mythical Beast to inherit its power and represent its will, the Cetus Monarch, and I am also a person who has family and loved ones, people for whom I would give everything without hesitation or second thought," Montana answered, her conviction deepening as each word solidified her sense of self.
"Do you know why you are?" the creature asked, its final question carrying a weight that seemed to settle into the ocean itself.
"To protect the lives of the world, to stand as its defender when no one else can, to be the one who endures when everything else falls, and to prove to my parents and to the world that I am capable of standing in place of anyone when the time demands it," Montana declared, her confidence reaching its apex as her purpose aligned with her identity without conflict or doubt.
"Then you have been found," the creature said, its voice softening as it dipped beneath the surface once more, disappearing into the depths as though its role had been fulfilled.
---
Chelsea tore away the final shard of ice clinging stubbornly to her skin, a strained grunt escaping her as the frozen fragment detached, before her gaze lifted toward the sky, which had once again begun to fill with the encroaching presence of the Ruin. Its influence reclaiming the space that had briefly been cleared, and with it came the return of her strength, though only partially, as the absence of the Ruin had momentarily halted both her growth and her regeneration, leaving her in a state that was neither fully restored nor entirely weakened.
With her opponent presumed dead and the Ruin steadily returning to dominance, Chelsea allowed herself a moment to recover, intending to regroup with Cannon once she had regained enough strength to move without strain. Yet that moment shattered instantly as Montana's eyes snapped open, her body surging with life as oxygen flooded her lungs and forced a deep, ragged breath from her chest, the sound alone enough to startle Chelsea into immediate retreat as confusion and fear overtook her composure.
Montana rose slowly, her breathing heavy and uneven, as though she were reacquainting herself with the act itself, each inhale intentfull and each exhale controlled until the rhythm stabilized, at which point she turned her gaze toward Chelsea, whose expression remained frozen in disbelief as though she were witnessing something that should not exist.
'How is she alive??' Chelsea thought, her mind racing to reconcile what she was seeing with what she knew to be true, as panic began to fracture her reasoning. 'That's... no, no, no, no, no, no, NO! That's impossible. Her heart stopped beating, her body was shutting down! She should still be a corpse!'
Montana's breathing steadied completely as the last remnants of strain left her body, and as her eyes locked onto Chelsea, a surge of power rose within her, distinct and unmistakable, carrying with it a presence that signaled something far beyond a simple recovery.
She raised her arms in front of her, positioning them horizontally so that one rested against the other, obscuring part of her face while leaving only her closed mouth visible. Along her burned arm flowed water that wrapped itself around the ruined limb, traveling downward until it formed a fully shaped hand at her wrist made from water, restoring her silhouette in a way that felt both unnatural and absolute.
'This spiritual energy... this is...!' Chelsea thought, horror setting in as recognition began to take hold.
"Dimension Creation: Immeasurable Abyss," Montana said, her voice calm and devoid of hesitation.
A fracture formed in reality behind her, thin at first before widening just enough to consume them both. And as it closed, it left behind only a faint crack suspended in space, marking the boundary of a newly formed Dimension.
Chelsea found herself standing upon an endless body of water that stretched beyond all visible limits. The surface beneath her stable yet deceptive, while below lay depths so vast and dark that they defied comprehension. Above, heavy clouds gathered in layers of gray and black, threaded with silent flashes of lightning that illuminated the sky without ever producing sound, creating an atmosphere that was both suffocating and eerily tranquil.
A soft breeze brushed against her, gentle and almost comforting, in stark contrast to the overwhelming scale and oppressive presence of the Dimension itself.
Before her, Montana rose from the ocean, her body ascending without visible support as though the water itself carried her upward. And though Chelsea prepared herself for immediate combat, she hesitated when Montana remained completely still, her eyes closed and her posture unchanging.
Chelsea activated Boost within her eyes, scanning the environment for any weakness, any exit, any indication of how to escape or gain advantage. Yet nothing revealed itself, and instead, a different realization began to take shape as time itself seemed to narrow into a silent countdown shared between them.
She felt her body sink ever so slightly, no more than a millimeter, yet enough to register. And with it came an unfamiliar sensation of weakness that clashed against her reliance on Boost, prompting her to glance back at Montana, who remained unmoving.
Reacting instinctively, Chelsea redirected Boost throughout her entire body and surged forward at a high speed, only to be effortlessly sidestepped, and as she moved, she sank another millimeter into the water, the sensation of diminishing strength creeping further into her awareness before she forcibly suppressed it.
'Why am I feeling this way? Has it got something to do with her Dimension?' Chelsea thought, unease settling in as her control began to feel less certain.
In response, Montana's spear erupted from the ocean and snapped into her grasp, and with a single, fluid motion, nothing more than a seemingly exhausted swipe across, it had unleashed a wave so massive that it dwarfed any recorded tsunami. Its scale forcing Chelsea's eyes wide as she concentrated all of Boost into her legs and spine, then fled at her maximum speed.
Yet before she could escape, Montana emerged from the water ahead of her, seizing her by the throat and hurling her directly into the oncoming wave. And as Chelsea was about to be consumed, Montana raised her spear and summoned countless others from the ocean, launching them forward in a relentless barrage before swiping across once more, summoning another vast wave equal in magnitude to the first.
The collision of spears and water shook the Dimension itself, a crack forming from the outside as the force reverberated through the space, and when the chaos settled, Chelsea was revealed submerged up to her torso, struggling against the water that now held her in place, each attempt to free herself only dragging her deeper into its grasp.
Montana approached slowly, her presence unwavering as Chelsea's fear became visible, her movements frantic and ineffective as the weight of the Dimension pressed down on her.
'Why am I... so weak...?' Chelsea thought, her strength continuing to slip away.
That realization was enough, as her body sank fully beneath the surface, her hands reaching upward in desperation while her descent accelerated. Any attempts to swim rendered meaningless as the water refused to release her, and as her eyes closed for the final time, her breath left her completely.
The cheat sheet of Montana Bristol's Dimension, Immeasurable Abyss, lied in its ability to impose an overwhelming weight of doubt upon anyone trapped within it, a pressure that eroded even the strongest sense of self and forced the mind into existential collapse. It ensured that no matter how confident or resolute an opponent might be, they would eventually succumb to the suffocating uncertainty that defined the Dimension itself.
Make no mistake. The cheat sheet of Immeasurable Abyss did not merely fall on the opponent, but Montana herself. In order for her to control this Dimension, and to succumb to it, called for a complete and total mindset change. Pure confidence in herself had to be achieved. Even if it meant putting down the ones she cared about.
Alongside this effect, there existed a seperate ability that acted as an amplification of Montana's own abilities, elevating her attacks far beyond their natural limits. However, the cost of sustaining a Dimension was immense, drawing heavily upon her Liminal Bonds in a way that only a few could withstand for long.
And so, just before Chelsea's life could fully fade... Immeasurable Abyss shattered.
The fracture in reality disappeared, and Montana's body collapsed backward, unconscious as the strain overtook her, the depletion of her Liminal Bonds leaving her unable to maintain the Dimension any longer. Her physical stamina had reached its end.
Both combatants lay still, their bodies motionless in the aftermath of their clash. Until, a short distance away, the form of Ora True appeared, his gaze settling upon the scene as he recognized the outcome for what it was.
A draw.
He moved immediately, closing the distance and kneeling beside Montana as he lifted her into his arms, his focus narrowing as he examined her injuries, noting the absence of her hand and the damage to her forearm before acting without hesitation.
Drawing a projection of a claw across his own skin, he allowed a single drop of blood to fall onto her wound, watching as her hand regenerated in response, and then another drop fell upon the burned flesh, restoring it to its original state as if the damage had never existed.
"Montana... you'll be okay. I defeated my enemy. I'll kill this one and take us out of here... somehow," Ora said, a faint smile forming as he steadied his grip on her.
Chelsea's body trembled faintly before she finally stirred, her consciousness dragging itself back to the surface as she woke with a violent cough, water spilling from her mouth while her eyes struggled to focus, only to land upon Ora standing there, and the disbelief that followed was immediate and unmistakable.
"No way… my brother… he was supposed to have killed you!" Chelsea exclaimed, her voice strained yet sharp with confusion and defiance.
Ora exhaled lightly, almost dismissively, as he stepped forward and positioned himself in front of Montana, his posture firm and unyielding, as though nothing in the world could move him from that spot. "Sorry," he said, his tone calm and steady, "but he just couldn't keep up."
Chelsea's expression tightened as she raised her hand, her power already gathering. "Fake Expression: Boost," she declared, and in that same instant, Ora reacted, his hands rising and wrapping around his own neck, preparing to invoke something far more dangerous.
"Dimension Creation—!" Ora began, his voice steady—but he was forced to cut himself off as a bullet tore through the air, grazing dangerously close to the center of his head. His body twisted and shifting with sharp, acrobatic precision to evade it at the last possible moment.
Ora landed and turned sharply, his eyes locking onto the source several yards away, disbelief flickering across his face as his jaw slackened slightly, his focus now split between Chelsea and this new interference.
"Don't count me out just yet… you bastard," Cannon called out, a crooked smirk stretching across his face, his voice carrying both exhaustion and defiance.
Chelsea's tension eased just slightly at the sight of him, relief flashing across her expression.
Behind Ora, Montana began to stir as well, her body reacting sluggishly as she coughed and forced herself upright, her balance faltering enough that she leaned into him for support, using him as a crutch.
"You're okay!" Ora said, the relief in his voice breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor.
"Yeah… I guess," Montana replied, her voice tired and heavy, devoid of humor despite her words. "I'll be okay once I get a few years of sleep… and a giant pot of coffee when I wake up, too."
Ora shook his head faintly, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at him. "You talk too much."
Despite the brief exchange, his mind was already racing, calculating, weighing outcomes as he subtly stepped back.
'Damn… I can't transform into my Demon Projection because of my limit...' he thought, tension tightening within him. 'And without it… I don't think I can escape while carrying Montana. She's too weak to move on her own…' The realization settled heavily. 'I'll have to… sacrifice myself…!'
8:10 AM.
Then, without warning, everything changed.
All four of them—Cannon, Chelsea, Ora, and Montana—froze as a presence descended upon the battlefield, vast and overwhelming, pressing down on them with such intensity that their bodies reacted before their minds could process it. They all stilled and became silent in its wake.
Their eyes widened in unison.
Their heads tilted upward in perfect synchronization.
Their mouths parted, breath catching—and all at once, they gasped.
'Is this what Weston felt…?' Montana thought, her chest tightening as her eyes remained locked upward.
'This… is our enemy…?' Chelsea's thoughts trembled, her body shaking alongside Cannon's as the weight of that presence bore down on them.
Ora said nothing, his gaze fixed above, silent and unreadable as he faced something entirely new. Entirely different than what was previously shown.
And then—he was revealed.
Holding an indifferent and impassive expression and stare... The Dragon Monarch—Alma Daedulus Alastor—had arrived.