The crimson world froze as if in anticipation, becoming an arena for an invisible battle. The echoes of Emptiness, personifying doubt, came close without making a sound. Their silence was louder than any scream.
Han stood gripping the hilts of his swords so tightly that his knuckles cracked. His comrades-in-arms, whose faces he had seen in his nightmares for many years, froze in front of him. They didn't attack. They just stared at him with empty eyes, and there was more reproach in that emptiness than in the bitterest words.
—Go away,— Han croaked, feeling the steel will that had supported him all his life begin to weaken...
"You left us, Khan," one of them said in his mind. "You're alive, and we're dust. Is that fair? You don't deserve to be redeemed. You must share our fate."
The crack in the glass ground that Han had been struggling to hold began to widen again, becoming blacker and deeper.
Standing next to Lin Mei was the ghost of her father. His cold, disappointed gaze pierced her, causing a long-forgotten feeling of shame.
Look at you, a voice hissed in her head. "The great Lin Mei, the heiress of an ancient family, crawls through the ruins of an alien world with half-breeds and geeks. You've given up everything that made you strong. For what? For the sake of a ghostly hope?"
The splinter at her feet, which she was trying to "heal," sharpened again, turning into a menacing thorn.
Jin, who always relied on cold calculation, faced the most terrible thing for him — doubt in his own mind. His mentor, whose intelligence he always valued above everything else, looked at him with indifferent superiority.
"Are you trying to play God, Jin, by correcting reality? Reality is a given. It can be studied, used, but not changed. Your attempt is childish. Admit defeat to the undeniable logic of existence."
The pool of Emptiness that Jin was trying to "fix" began to expand again, absorbing the tiny island of order that he had managed to create.
Leng Wei watched as his friends were defeated. He could feel their collective will, barely beginning to form, crumbling under the onslaught of personal nightmares. He couldn't see his Echo, but instead he felt the oppressive indifference of the whole world, its resistance to any changes. It felt like he was trying to move a mountain with his bare hands.
And then he remembered. Not a specific image, but a feeling. It feels like he's not alone.
—Xiao Fei!— he called, without taking his eyes off his steeple, which was beginning to bend again. "They're attacking us one by one!" We must... Do something together!
Xiao Fei, who was clinging to his leg, looked up at him with a frightened look.
—I... I can't fight them... They're too real...
"Don't fight! Leng Wei said, and for the first time there was a desperate determination in his voice. — Sing!
- what?
— You said that Silence sings here! Sing our song! Not the one in our heads, but the one between us! Our common one!
It was a crazy idea, but there was a logic to it. If the Echo attacks their individual fears, then the answer must be their collective strength.
Leng Wei closed his eyes and gave up trying to hold the spire. Instead, he focused on the sense of connection that connected them. On Khan's rage, which was not destructive, but protective. On the pride of Lin Mei, who chose her path. On the cold mind of Jin, who was looking for truth, not submission. And on his own stubborn hope.
He didn't send them images. He just conveyed to them a sense of their friendship, trust and common path. And Xiao Fei, whose perception had always been different, caught it. She closed her eyes and began to hum softly. These were not words — it was a clear, crystal sound, a melody woven from their common will, their common resistance.
The sound was faint, barely audible in the oppressive silence. But he was.
The Echo, as if sensing their determination, began to waver. The ghostly figures became less clear, as if they were melting into thin air. Lin Mei's father looked puzzled, and Jin's mentor frowned, as if he had encountered an error in his calculations. Khan's companions slowed down their pace.
It worked. Even if not to the full extent, but still.
— Hold on! Leng Wei exclaimed, feeling their common will strengthen again. "They're only strong when we're alone!" We are together... We are real!
He turned back to the spire. But this time he wasn't doing it alone. He could feel Han's unwavering loyalty, Lin Mei's piercing clarity, and Jin's ruthless logic joining his efforts. And above it all, Xiao Fei's fragile but pure melody sounded, linking them together.
The spire began to straighten with a dull screech. Not by a centimeter, but by a good ten. The metal lost its unnatural curves, returning to its straight, sturdy shape.
The echo took a step back. Their shapes became completely transparent, almost invisible.
They couldn't defeat the Void. They didn't even manage to rebuild a small part of this world. But they did something more significant — they defended their right to try. They proved that their bond, their "noisy" and chaotic lives represent a force that the Void doesn't know how to handle.
Leng Wei was breathing heavily, resting his hands on his knees. He was exhausted to the limit. But there was a new light in his eyes.
"They're retreating,— Ling Mei whispered, exhaling in relief.
"Temporarily," Jin corrected, but there was also a note of respect in his voice for what they had just done. — They will analyze our tactics and find a new way to attack.
"Let them look," Khan laughed hoarsely, wiping sweat from his forehead. — At least now we know that we can fight back against them. Together.
They stood back to back, watching the Echoes dissipate. Their island of corrected reality was tiny, but it was their island. And this was just the first step in the strangest war any of them could have imagined.