The guardian roared—or whatever approximation of sound it could produce—and the chamber seemed to warp around it. Walls vibrated, floors shuddered, traps triggered spontaneously. Spinning blades erupted, pits opened, sparks from my welds flew into the fray.
Chaos. Total chaos.
I exhaled slowly, letting Rhythm anchor me. Every pulse of my heartbeat was now a metronome, every strike timed, every dodge anticipated. Best Welder hummed with energy, enhanced by the environment itself. Enhanced Perception flared constantly, highlighting micro-movements in the guardian and environmental hazards alike.
Sweat dripped into my eyes, burning. My arms ached. Muscles trembled. Pain was constant—but it was no longer distraction; it was data. Input for calculation. Fuel for adaptation.
I shifted strategy mid-combat, using welded barriers to redirect hazards, forcing the guardian into its own mistakes. Sparks, steel, sinew, and light collided in a frenzy of movement. Every decision was immediate, every choice calculated, every heartbeat crucial.
Because I was Mizu. Broken once, yes—but thriving in chaos, learning, adapting, mastering unpredictability.