Chiki twisted mid-air, barely slipping past the invisible pressure slicing where his neck had been a second ago, his boots skidding across the fractured ground as he hurled a compact sphere forward without hesitation.
The bomb detonated early—not from impact, but because Drayke caught it.
For a fraction of a second, Drayke examined it, eyes sharp, curious… then smiled.
He flicked his wrist.
The air warped, folded, and the bomb vanished—reappearing directly in front of Chiki's face.
"Shi—"
The explosion swallowed him whole.
The blast tore through the low gravity, throwing Chiki backward like a broken doll, his body slamming into the planet's surface hard enough to carve a shallow crater, smoke and debris curling upward as fragments of metal rained around him.
His ears rang.
His vision burned white.
Chiki coughed violently, rolling onto his side as sparks danced across his suit, half of its plating cracked and hanging loose, warning lights screaming inside his helmet.
Before he could push himself up, pressure crushed down on his chest.
Drayke stood over him.
With pure efficiency.
"You rely too much on preparation,"
Drayke said calmly, lifting Chiki by the collar with one hand, the air around them tightening like a vice.
"Too bad, it's me who you are dealing with."
Chiki grinned through blood.
"Funny… coming from someone who keeps dodging."
Drayke didn't answer.
He punched.
The impact bent the air itself, sending Chiki flying again, tumbling uncontrollably as he smashed through broken terrain, finally stopping only when his body struck a jagged ridge and slumped there, unmoving for a second too long.
High above, the rescue ship hovered, engines roaring as Chitki watched the readings spike and dip violently, her hands shaking over the controls while Peppy shouted something she couldn't hear through the static.
On the battlefield below, Drayke rolled his shoulder once, cracks of compressed air snapping around him as his presence shifted—heavier now, sharper.
"This," he muttered, stepping forward, "is still nowhere near my limit."
Chiki forced his eyes open.
And still…
he laughed.
Yeah,"
Chiki spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Guess I forgot you're annoying like that."
Drayke tilted his head slightly, almost amused.
Chiki's fingers twitched.
Hidden beneath the torn fabric of his glove, he pressed a button.
Click.
Chiki threw tons of bombs at the same place at the same time.
The ground beneath Drayke detonated—not outward, but inward.
A compressed implosion bomb collapsed the space under his feet, dragging debris, air, and pressure straight into a violent core.
The planet's surface caved, forming a crater that swallowed everything within it.
For the first time, Drayke's eyes widened.
The implosion didn't last long, but when it ended, silence followed.
Chiki panted, forcing himself to stand.
His legs shook violently, but he grinned anyway.
"Rule one," he said weakly. "Never assume yourself strong when I am still standing."
The crater shifted.
Air screamed.
The space above the crater folded violently, snapping back like a stretched membrane.
Drayke emerged from the distortion, sliding backward across the ground but still upright, gloves torn, one side of his body visibly scraped and bleeding.
He slowly straightened.
Then he laughed.
Like a madman.
"Oh," Drayke said, wiping blood from his jaw.
"You got me good, Blueberry."
The air around him changed.
It thickened.
Compressed.
Warped.
Chiki felt it instantly—pressure squeezing his lungs, gravity tugging sideways, balance becoming meaningless.
The planet itself seemed to protest, cracks spreading outward from Drayke's feet in perfect circular patterns.
"This," Drayke continued, voice calm, "is why I needed stronger opponents."
The air bent sharply.
In the next instant, Drayke vanished.
Chiki barely had time to react before something slammed into his ribs from the side.
He flew, skipping across stone, bouncing hard before rolling to a stop near a massive fissure in the ground.
He coughed—hard.
Something cracked inside him.
Drayke reappeared above him, descending slowly as if gravity obeyed him alone.
"You rely on preparation," Drayke said.
"Traps. Planning. Tools."
He landed softly.
"I rely on inevitability."
Chiki forced his arms beneath him, dragging himself backward. His mind raced, calculations firing rapidly despite the pain.
He tossed three small spheres without looking.
They didn't explode.
Instead, they unfolded mid-air—forming a rotating lattice of energy threads that sliced outward like a spinning net.
Drayke stepped forward—
—and stopped.
The threads warped.
Bent.
Curved around him.
Chiki's eyes widened in horror as his own weapon twisted uselessly, snapping apart as the air itself redirected their paths.
Drayke walked through the remains untouched.
"Your tech is impressive," he admitted. "But you're fighting someone who edits reality locally."
He raised a hand.
The air clenched.
Chiki screamed as invisible pressure crushed down on him, pinning him flat against the ground.
His arms refused to move. His breath hitched violently.
In the distance, the sky flared.
The rescue ship streaked closer, lasers firing toward Drayke's position.
Drayke didn't even look.
The beams bent.
Curved.
Missed.
Chitki stared at her console in disbelief, hands shaking as warnings screamed across her display.
"Air distortion radius… increasing," she whispered. "This isn't normal—he's scaling."
Chiki's vision darkened, but he laughed anyway, breathless and broken.
"Heh… figures… you'd be the unfair type."
Drayke crouched slightly, meeting his gaze.
"I can't believe, this is just so" he noted. "Ironic."
Chiki's fingers twitched again.
Drayke noticed.
Too late.
A final device activated—embedded directly into Chiki's chest rig. A pulse bomb, designed not to explode outward, but to disrupt spatial stability for a fraction of a second.
The pulse went off.
The air screamed.
For just one heartbeat—Drayke's control faltered.
Chiki twisted, ripping free from the pressure, and slammed a compact charge directly into Drayke's face.
The explosion was brutal.
Drayke was hurled backward, skidding across the ground, carving a deep trench behind him.
He rolled once, twice—then stopped.
Smoke curled upward.
Chiki collapsed onto his back, chest heaving violently.
"I told you," he muttered. "I'm… still...standing."
Silence followed.
Then—slow clapping.
Drayke stood.
His almost half of the uniform torn.
His body bore marks now—burns, cuts, blood streaking down his arm—but his posture remained steady. Calm. Centered.
His smile was gone.
"Enough," Drayke said softly.
The air around him compressed so violently that the ground beneath his feet shattered completely, chunks of the planet lifting into the air as if gravity had forgotten its role.
"This was entertaining," he continued. "But playtime ends here."
Chiki pushed himself onto his elbows, eyes wide—not with fear, but realization.
"So that's it," he whispered. "You gave a good fight, kid."
Drayke's eyes sharpened.
"Yes."
He took a step forward—
—and the entire battlefield folded inward toward him.
Far above, the rescue ship shook violently as alarms blared.
Chitki gripped the controls, teeth clenched.
"Hang on," she whispered. "Please… just hang on."
On the surface below, Chiki forced himself to stand one last time, blood dripping from his fingers as he raised his head to face the storm walking toward him.
"Hey," he said weakly. "One last thing."
Drayke paused.
Chiki smirked through the pain.
"You still haven't beaten us."
The air screamed again.
"Us?"
And the planet itself seemed to hold its breath.