Time had dissolved. In that unstable dimension, there was no longer night or day. Only the battle.
Fenra advanced, her body responding like a war machine—punches, kicks, ethereal blades conjured in the heat of movement. Her brute force cracked the energy platforms beneath her feet, each of her blows making reality contort. She was superior. She was made to win.
But, with every moment, Vernasha adapted.
The floating steps that appeared around her were used as extensions of her feet. A leap, a curve, a twist—and there she was, unreachable, leaving behind not just emptiness, but copies that unfolded into spirals of ethereal energy.
Fenra crushed one, tore another in two. But each destroyed clone seemed to generate another, more solid, more defined, more dangerous. Sweat streamed down the warrior's face, not from physical effort—but from the perception that she was being dragged into a cycle with no end.
"I have to end this soon. Not just to escape… but because with every minute she seems stronger. As if this space recognizes her as its owner."
The thoughts weighed like chains. Perhaps all the riddles, all the words tossed by Vernasha before, weren't just provocation. Perhaps they were the perfect distraction—to confuse, to corrode, to buy time for that invisible bond between her and the field to solidify.
"Was everything she said… true? Or just time bought upon truths I cannot—do not want—to understand?"
The clones emerged from all sides. Five, ten, twenty. The ethereal blade cut, pierced, shattered, but there was no end. Vernasha wasn't just the enemy before her. Vernasha was the place itself.
And the voice—the damned voice—didn't come from one mouth, but from all mouths, from the invisible walls, from the suspended platforms, from the dense air surrounding them.
— Come on, Fenra. I know you can do more. I know there's something inside you.
With every echo, a blow. With every whisper, a new clone.
— A warrior with a rare technique of distortion, combined with a brutal style and mastery of countless battles… and this is the limit? Is this all you show when pressed?
Fenra roared, shattering three more copies in a single sequence of cuts. But the roar died as she realized five more appeared in their place. Her true ability—the one that required specific conditions to manifest—was nullified here. All that remained was the basics: blades, endurance, direct combat.
And, while she repeated herself, Vernasha evolved.
The clones were no longer fragile shadows, but perfect extensions, faster and faster, heavier and heavier in their blows. An army of reflections that did not deplete.
Fenra knew, she felt it: this wasn't just a fight. It was a race against time.
And in that race… with every second, it was Vernasha who gained ground.
— You know, Fenra… — the voice came from all around, in whispers that seemed to penetrate the warrior's bones. — You understand your soul, don't you? You know what you can do, what you desire… but you never comprehend your own essence. Always limited. Always… falling short.
Fenra dodged an attack from a perfect clone, rolling across the ground. She breathed with difficulty, but her mind didn't stop. — What does she mean? — she thought. — How can someone understand so much, perceive so much, control so much…
The clones surrounded her, attacking in waves, and every blow Fenra blocked was accompanied by another provocation, whispered from all sides at once.
— Look at you… — Vernasha continued, her real form almost invisible among the projections. — Every blade, every muscle, every technique… so powerful, and yet limited by what you allow yourself to be. If you dared more… if you freed yourself from your own mediocrity… imagine what you could do.
What living in Mei's shadow does to someone, right?
Fenra stopped for an instant, every drop of sweat and blood pulsing in her body, her eyes fixed on the multiple reflections surrounding her. — How far can she go…? — she murmured to herself. — Even here… against me… I'm just a piece… just another piece moving against her pawns, while she watches from above.
Vernasha spun amidst the platforms emerging from nowhere, every movement calculated, every clone firing off to force Fenra to react. — How long will you resist, Fenra? How far can you understand yourself? I see everything… every intention, every fear… every limitation you insist on carrying.
Fenra responded with ethereal blades, cutting down the clones emerging from all sides, but nothing seemed enough. Each destroyed clone multiplied, each attack was absorbed or evaded with an almost supernatural grace.
The clones were adapting to Fenra's martial arts; soon they would be perfect natural enemies to her every reaction.
Fenra took a step back, absorbing the words even as she fought. Her mind worked faster than her body. — This woman… is an enigma of pure malice and wisdom no one should possess… She reads us like open books. And I… I'm just a piece. A piece that moves while she plays.
— And even here, — Vernasha's voice echoed through the spaces, through the clones, through the very floors that bent — you still haven't realized. She smiled, a light gesture, almost imperceptible, but deadly. — The strength is within you. But it is you who chooses to remain weak.
Fenra swallowed dryly. Each clone that fell was replaced by two stronger ones. Each defended blow demanded more energy, more endurance. And, above all, the sensation that she wasn't just facing an enemy, but the very intelligence behind the space and the projections, consumed her mind.
— A piece, — murmured Fenra, and for the first time in a long while, the weight of her own existence hit her with clarity — just a piece against a mind that plays chess with entire worlds.
And Vernasha merely floated, calm, the master of a board that Fenra was only just beginning to perceive. Every move, every attack, every defense was part of a larger game—and Fenra could not make a mistake.
Because, in truth, she had already realized: losing focus here wasn't just losing the battle. It was losing everything she knew, it was losing herself.
And Vernasha smiled, knowing it.
The air vibrated for an instant, and suddenly the clones began to dissolve, fading into ethereal particles that evaporated in the unstable space. Fenra took a deep breath, feeling a momentary relief, but there was no time for rest.
Vernasha appeared before her, just a few meters away, as if she had emerged from the air itself. The woman was silent, but her overwhelming presence filled every centimeter of that place. Her eyes, shining with unsettling wisdom, fixed on Fenra.
— Fenra… — she began, her voice smooth as silk, but sharp as a blade. — You are powerful. Far more than you realize. But… you still don't understand. You don't understand your own strength. You don't understand your own essence. Nor what it means to exist.
Fenra felt the weight of those words. Each syllable reverberated in her mind, awakening thoughts she tried to ignore. But something within her could not deny it: Vernasha spoke with precision, with a clarity that burned.
— She's buying time again… — Fenra thought. — As always. Every word, every provocation… is just to confuse. But I can't wait. It's now or never.
With a contained roar, Fenra charged forward. The ethereal blade rose, ready to cut, ready to end the game before Vernasha could manipulate the space again.
Vernasha smiled, lightly, almost amused, and moved like smoke, dancing to the side, leaving clones in strategic positions. Each clone seemed to fight for her, blocking and dodging attacks, keeping Fenra busy while Vernasha moved freely.
— Advance, Fenra. Show me… — the voice echoed around, penetrating to the bone. — You know, deep down, that if you wanted… if you truly understood… you could have stopped the attack that caused all this by yourself. You could have defeated all the enemies… all the games… without needing to hide in the shadows.
Fenra absorbed every word, every provocation. There were uncomfortable truths there. Even manipulative, sneaky, Vernasha spoke with coherence. Fenra felt the weight of everything: her own limitations, her choices, what she had left behind.
— She… she's right… — Fenra thought, while blocking a blow from one clone and spinning to attack another. — I've always been held back… always one step from climbing the wall, and then… the world pushed me back down.
Each of Fenra's advances was measured, each blow an attempt to break not just the clones, but the provocation itself. Vernasha continued to speak, even while evading with lethal grace:
— You feel it, don't you? Always on the verge of surpassing your limits… but always holding back. Always looking at the wall before you, wishing to climb it… but never freeing yourself from the ground.
Fenra took a deep breath. Each word infiltrated her mind like needles of perception. She felt the truth in what Vernasha said, and at the same time, the frustration of being manipulated, tested, studied.
— Could it be… that this time… — she thought, while charging forward in a straight line, ignoring clones that emerged to block her — Could it be that this time I will manage to climb the wall?
The space around them crackled, vibrated, as Fenra fought with all she had. Every attack, every dodge, every step brought her closer to Vernasha. And with every movement, the sensation that the wall could finally be overcome grew within her.
Vernasha, observing, continued to speak, like a merciless teacher and a master of chaos:
— Continue, Fenra… Continue and discover. Discover if you truly understand who you are… and how far you can go.
The air grew heavy, the floating floors trembled, and the whole world seemed to hold its breath. Fenra advanced, not just against Vernasha, not just against the clones, but against the very limits that had always kept her on the margins.
And for the first time, she felt she could touch the top of the wall.
To be continued…