The city broke.
Concrete splitting under impossible force, steel groaning as bodies collided with stone, smoke curling through shattered windows like grasping fingers.
CRACK.
Rin's guard folded. Steel gauntlets smashed through his desperate block, the impact rattling his bones, his teeth. His body lifted off the ground, airborne for half a heartbeat before gravity remembered him—
SHING.
—Aren jerked sideways, shoulder screaming, as the blade grazed his collarbone. Too slow. Always half a second too slow. Blood welled hot and immediate. His counter-strike came reflexively, debris launching—
FLASH.
—Lucy's palm ignited, light bursting outward in a desperate wave that pushed back the encroaching smoke. Not destroyed it. Not conquered it. Just pushed—bought three seconds of visibility before the gray came crawling back—
THUD.
Rin crashed into pavement, breath exploding from his lungs. The world tilted. His vision doubled. Above him, Bastion loomed, gauntlets still glowing from impact, barely winded.
"Cute try, kid."
WHISTLE.
Seven blades cut the air around Aren, forcing him back, back, back. He deflected one—another grazed his arm. A third pinned his coat to a wall. Veyl stood motionless in the smoke, hand raised lazily, like conducting an orchestra.
"You're quick. Not quick enough."
BOOM.
Lucy's light met Nyx's smoke wall and stalled. The impact rattled windows, cracked asphalt—but the wall held. Smoke compressed, hardened, pressed back. Lucy's feet slid backward across broken ground.
Nyx tilted her head, almost sympathetic.
"You're strong, Luminary. But strength isn't enough here."
Three fights.Three desperate struggles.
Three losing battles happening simultaneously.
Rin coughed blood.
Aren tore free, shoulder burning.
Lucy's light flickered—just for a moment—under the weight of Nyx's domain.
Then—Lucy's eyes sharpened.
"Aren," she breathed, voice barely cutting through chaos. "Rin."
Somewhere through smoke and distance—
—they heard her.
"Break formation. Now."
The world hesitated.
Then Team 9—battered, bleeding, outmatched–moved
The smoke was alive.
It didn't just fill space—it claimed it. Every breath Lucy took tasted of ash and pressure, like inhaling the weight of a collapsing building. Her light pushed back in desperate bursts, carving temporary sanctuaries in the gray, but Nyx's domain always returned, hungry, patient, inevitable.
"You're good," Nyx said, her voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere. She walked through the smoke like it was an extension of her body, boots silent on broken concrete. "Better than I expected, honestly."
Lucy didn't answer. Couldn't waste the breath.
Her hands moved in practiced patterns, light condensing into geometric shields that deflected compressed smoke projectiles. One grazed her shoulder—she felt the impact like a hammer blow despite the barrier. Her feet slid backward.
Losing ground.
Nyx smiled, silver hair drifting in impossible currents. "But you're thinking too small, Luminary. This whole city is my canvas."
She snapped her fingers.
The smoke contracted.
Every street, every alley, every pocket of air—compressed inward with crushing force. Buildings groaned. Glass shattered in cascading waves. Lucy's light shields cracked like eggshells under the pressure.
"Gh—!"
Lucy dropped to one knee, palms pressed against the ground, light flaring desperately outward just to maintain a breathable space around her. Sweat dripped from her chin. Her vision blurred at the edges.
Nyx descended slowly, smoke swirling around her like a royal cloak. "You're strong-willed. I respect that. But will doesn't beat technique."
She raised one hand.
The smoke above Lucy solidified into a massive hammer—executioner's weight, guillotine's certainty.
"Nothing personal."
It fell.
Lucy's eyes blazed.
Golden mantra erupted around her body—not light, something older—and her voice cut through the smoke like a bell.
"Creatio Ex Nihilo."
The falling blade struck—
—and shattered against steel.
Nyx's eyes widened.
Lucy stood, head bowed, breathing hard. In her right hand, a sword blazed into existence—Golden energy solidified into gleaming metal, the blade's edge burning with light that pushed back the smoke with pure presence alone.
"Excalibur," Lucy whispered.
She moved fast.
The blade sang through smoke, cutting not just vapor but intent, severing Nyx's constructs. Three smoke tendrils dissolved before they could form. A compressed wall split down the middle like paper.
Nyx backstepped, genuine surprise flickering across her face. "A materialization ability? You didn't—"
Lucy didn't let her finish.
She closed the distance in three strides, Excalibur carving an upward arc that forced Nyx to dissolve into smoke and retreat twenty meters in an instant.
"Interesting," Nyx murmured, reforming on a tilted rooftop. Her eyes narrowed. "But creating weapons won't change the math."
She thrust both palms forward.
The entire dome collapsed inward.
Smoke pressure doubled. Tripled. The air became solid, crushing, suffocating. Lucy's Excalibur blazed brighter, cutting a sphere of safety around her—but the smoke pressed from all sides, compressing her sanctuary smaller and smaller.
Lucy's arms trembled. The blade flickered.
"See?" Nyx's voice echoed gently. "You can create miracles, but miracles still have limits."
The smoke tightened.
Two meters.
Lucy's knees buckled. Blood dripped from her nose. The golden mantra around Excalibur sputtered like a dying flame.
She's right. I can't... maintain this.
The sword began to fade.
Nyx descended again, landing softly ten meters away, just outside Lucy's shrinking bubble. "It's over, Luminary. You fought well."
Lucy's breath came in ragged gasps.
The sword dimmed.
Faded. Dissolved into fading golden sparks.
Gone.
Nyx raised her hand for the final compression—
—and Lucy smiled.
Blood on her teeth. Eyes blazing despite exhaustion.
"You're right," she breathed. "Creating miracles... has limits."
Golden mantra exploded around her body.
Not the same as before.
Brighter.
"So I'll create something real."
Nyx's expression shifted. "What—"
Lucy's voice rang out, clear and absolute despite the crushing pressure:
"My ability is Creatio Ex Nihilo!"
The world listened.
Golden energy erupted skyward, not light—potential. Pure creation made manifest. It didn't push back the smoke. It ignored it, existing in a space beyond Nyx's compression, beyond her domain's rules.
And from that golden fire— water.
It burst forth like a dam breaking, cascading outward in torrential waves that crashed against smoke with the weight of inevitability. Steam exploded where they met, pressure equalizing violently, Nyx's carefully compressed domain fracturing as physics reasserted itself.
The water didn't stop.
It flooded the streets, rose in spiraling pillars, crashed through broken windows. Lucy stood at the center, both hands extended, golden mantra blazing around her as water obeyed her will like it had been waiting for her command since the beginning of time.
Nyx staggered backward, smoke dispersing, her concentration broken. "That's—that's not materialization—"
Lucy's eyes burned blue.
"I don't summon," she said quietly, water rising around her in a protective spiral. "I don't channel."
The water ignited with golden light, steam and radiance mixing into something beautiful and terrible.
"I create."
She thrust both palms forward.
The water launched.
A tidal wave twenty feet high, infused with golden mantra, crashed toward Nyx with the force of divine judgment. Smoke scattered like frightened shadows. The dome cracked. Buildings shuddered.
Nyx's eyes widened—genuine shock—before she dissolved into smoke and fled, reforming on a rooftop three blocks away.
For the first time since the fight began—
She was breathing hard.
Lucy stood in the flooded street, water swirling around her ankles, steam rising from her shoulders. Blood still dripped from her nose. Her hands trembled.
But she was standing.
Nyx stared at her across the broken city, silver hair wild, composure finally cracked.
"Creatio Ex Nihilo," she whispered. "Creation from Nothing. You're a Genesis Saint."
Lucy didn't answer.
She just raised her hands again.
Water answered.
Nyx's smile returned—but different now. Not mocking.
Excited.
"Okay, Luminary," she breathed, smoke beginning to rebuild around her, thicker, denser, angrier. "Now we fight for real."
The water and smoke collided.
The city screamed.
And somewhere in the chaos—
Rin crashed through a wall, Bastion's laughter following.
Aren's blade flashed, deflecting another executioner's rain.
Three battles. Three desperate struggles.
One team—refusing to break.