The clash of Reibones rang through the air as Taro and Toei sparred, their blades a blur of steel and green-tinged energy. Sweat glistened on Taro's brow, his movements sharp and deliberate, each strike a testament to weeks of relentless training.
[9 Days Later…]
Taro paused, catching his breath as he reflected on his progress. "Training with Toei wasn't just about skill," he thought, his chest heaving. "I honed my precognition, sharpened my senses to a supernatural edge—something even Mexus acknowledged. But the real sign of growth? I can defeat Toei now, with or without foresight. My skills are finally bearing fruit."
His green eyes gleamed with pride as he recalled the turning point. The bot's once-overwhelming precision had become predictable, its attacks a rhythm he could counter with raw talent. Each victory over Toei was a step toward mastering himself.
[Elsewhere]
Under the veil of night in the wake world, a shadowy figure descended from a rooftop like a specter uncoiling from the darkness. The observer's form was cloaked in unnatural gloom, his silhouette twisting against the faint glow of streetlamps that flickered erratically as he moved. A malevolent aura clung to him, thick and oppressive, turning the cool night air into something suffocating, like the breath of oblivion itself. The streets, usually alive with distant echoes of city life, fell into an unnatural hush—crickets silenced, wind stilled—as if the world recoiled from his presence.
A lone man hurried home, briefcase swinging at his side, his footsteps echoing too loudly in the void. He caught sight of the observer and chuckled nervously, his voice brittle in the heavy silence. "Wow, that's a funny way to dress… hahaha—"
The laughter died mid-breath, strangled into nothingness. As the observer passed, the man simply… ceased. No scream, no flash of light—just erasure. His body dissolved into wisps of shadow, clothes unraveling like threads pulled by invisible hands, until not even a whisper remained. Only the briefcase clattered to the pavement, its thud echoing hollowly in the empty street, a solitary testament to a life unmade.
The observer continued, his footsteps silent, devouring the night. Houses loomed on either side, their windows dark and unseeing. But as he brushed past, the structures warped—walls crumbling into dust, roofs collapsing inward without a sound, as if time itself accelerated to decay. A family inside one home stirred in their sleep, unaware, only to vanish mid-dream, their beds left empty, sheets undisturbed. A stray cat arched its back, hissing in terror, before it too faded into the ether, its final yowl cut short. The air grew colder, laced with an acrid scent of void, and the streetlights dimmed one by one, plunging the path into deeper shadow. Whispers seemed to trail him—faint, unintelligible murmurs, like echoes of the erased pleading for remembrance—but they were illusions, born of the mind's horror at such absolute annihilation.
He reached the sewer entrance, the manhole cover groaning as he lifted it with effortless malice. Descending into the fetid depths, the observer navigated the labyrinthine tunnels with predatory grace. The dripping water echoed unnaturally, amplifying the dread, until he arrived at a nondescript wall slick with moisture. With deliberate precision, he tapped it—twice on the left edge, thrice at the bottom, once at the top right. The wall shuddered and parted like a maw opening to reveal a hidden chamber.
Inside, two masked figures waited in a sprawling room bathed in the cold glow of technological devices—screens flickering with data streams, consoles humming with forbidden energy. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and secrets. One figure lounged in a chair, their voice laced with impatient curiosity. "Well, well, look who's finally returned from his vigil. What have you observed this time? Any shifts in the boy's growth? His training with that mentor… it's progressing faster than anticipated, isn't it?"
The observer stepped into the light, his form still wreathed in shadows that seemed to cling unnaturally. His lips twisted into a knife-edged smile, his eyes swirling with a malevolent red glow that pierced the dimness like embers from a dying star. He said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch, heavy with unspoken threats. Finally, a low, rasping chuckle escaped him. "Heh. The threads are tightening. The boy sharpens his blade, unaware of the eyes upon him. But the pieces… they align."
The seated figure leaned forward, mask glinting. "Careful now. We can't afford slips. What specifics? Has he unlocked anything new—any signs of the convergence?"
The observer's smile widened, but his gaze remained inscrutable, a void of red that promised ruin. "Patience. The observations yield patterns. He grows, yes… but so does the risk. The dreamscape hides much, but not from me."
The other figure, standing silently until now, crossed their arms. "Enough riddles. We need actionable intel. The plan hinges on timing—his awakening could unravel everything if we're not precise."
"Heh," the observer repeated, his voice a whisper of malice. The room seemed to darken further, the screens flickering as if disturbed by his presence. No more words followed, only that lingering smile, a promise of revelations yet to come.
[With Taro]
Back in the dreamscape, Taro pressed his attack against Toei with relentless focus. A sidestep, a feint—every movement was calculated, his Reibone slicing through the air with intent. But Toei remained a formidable foe, its blade countering with a swift strike to the side of Taro's weapon, redirecting its trajectory. In that fleeting moment, Toei lunged, its Reibone a silver streak.
Taro reacted instantly, sidestepping and slapping the blade aside with his gloved hand, creating an opening. As Toei swung again, Taro caught the sword tip between his fingers, his grip unyielding. "I've got you, Toei," he growled. With a fluid slash, he cleaved the bot in half, its metallic groan echoing as it collapsed—*"Hrghhhhharghhhhh"*.
Standing over Toei's split frame, Taro's chest swelled with victory. He called out, "Yo, Mexus! Can you revive Toei again? I want to make the most of my last day here."
Mexus materialized in a flash of light, his expression unreadable yet charged with an undercurrent of gravity. The air in the dreamscape thickened, humming with latent energy, as if the realm itself anticipated what was coming. "You think so? How about we stop this instead?"
Taro blinked, confusion etching his face. "Pardon?"
Mexus's gaze hardened, a rare intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down Taro's spine. "Taro, it's your last day here. I think it's time we fought. No constraints, no rules—just a one-on-one. We've both known this was coming. The student tests the master."
Taro's breath caught, his posture stiffening as the weight of the moment settled over him like a storm cloud. This wasn't just a spar; it was the culmination of every grueling session, every lesson etched in blood and sweat. His heart pounded with a mix of reverence and fierce hunger. "Mexus, if this is a joke, cut it out. It's not funny."
Mexus's lips quirked into a faint, knowing smile, but his stance radiated unyielding seriousness. "Why would I lie about this? You've grown, kid—faster than I expected. But growth demands proof."
"So… just you and me? Full power, all out?" Taro's voice trembled with a blend of disbelief and raw excitement, his green aura flickering brighter around his Reibone.
"Exactly."
A malicious grin spread across Taro's face, his eyes flaring with the fire of long-held anticipation. The dreamscape responded, the ground trembling faintly, shadows lengthening as if the gods themselves leaned in to watch. "Aw yeah. I've been waiting for this—the inevitable clash between us, handed to me on a silver platter. Let's see if I can finally surpass you."
Mexus chuckled, a low, resonant sound that echoed with the weight of destiny. "Heh, I feel it too. It's like this fight was written by the gods themselves, etched into the fabric of our paths. Taro… let's do this."
Taro raised his Reibone, the green aura crackling around it like a storm about to break. The air crackled with hype, the promise of an epic confrontation hanging heavy, every fiber of the dreamscape poised on the edge of chaos.