The Celestial Tower groaned as more fighters surged through its inner chambers, each floor shifting and reforming like a live puzzle box. Shattered stardust danced in the air as combatants fought through gravity traps, illusion corridors, and monsters shaped from forgotten memories.
Julian Breadstone spun above the arena in a glittering loop.
"And NOW, dear spectators, let us turn our attention to a fighter who has not yet graced our screens! A rising star of subtlety! A master of quiet violence! A practitioner of LIGHT MANIPULATION that I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT UNDERSTAND!"
The arena feed zoomed into a lower-mid floor of the tower—Floor 23.
A chamber of floating prisms, each one refracting beams of light in unpredictable ways. Step wrong and one might be sliced, teleported, or turned temporarily inside out.
Inside this chamber moved a figure who barely disturbed the air.
Soft Light Lira.
Her name was not whispered—whispers were louder.
She was a slim, quiet woman with pale violet hair and clothing woven from threads that shimmered faintly like the inside of soap bubbles. Her eyes were soft gold, reflective as polished metal. Her presence was warm, yet dangerous. Calming, yet unsettling.
Because her element—light—never stayed still.
As she stepped forward, the prisms bent toward her like flowers following the sun.
Fighters nearby shouted in confusion.
"HEY—THE BEAMS ARE MOVING—"
"What's happening—?"
"WHY IS THE FLOOR BRIGHTER?!"
Julian barked gleefully:
"THAT, my friends, is Soft Light Lira! A practitioner of the Gentle Radiance discipline! She does not punch! She does not kick! She does not yell! She simply convinces light to stop cooperating with you!"
A burly alien fighter charged at her, swinging a blade dripping acid.
He never reached her.
The air shimmered once, and the beam of light he stepped through magnified the weight of his own weapon tenfold. His knees buckled. The blade hit the ground with a thunderous crack.
Before he could recover, another prism shifted its trajectory.
A ribbon of color snaked across the room—soft, warm, beautiful.
It wrapped around the alien's wrist.
And gently tossed him backward.
He landed on a safety sigil and vanished—teleported out of the tower, still intact but breathing hard.
Lira didn't celebrate.
She barely reacted.
She simply continued walking.
Her path through the chamber was effortless. Each prism adjusted itself before she even reached it, as if bowing to her. The beams of light altered, shifting to create bridges, stairs, shields, or illusions depending on what she needed.
Three fighters attempted ambush.
A spear-user.
A sonic warrior.
A teleporting trickster.
They never touched her.
Lira raised her hand, palm glowing faintly.
Light magnified around her fingers.
Then the prisms flickered.
The tower chamber reoriented itself like a rotating kaleidoscope.
The ambushers found themselves at the chamber's exit behind her—ejected by the room itself.
Julian screamed excitedly:
"SHE'S NOT EVEN FIGHTING THEM! SHE'S JUST… LIGHTLY REDIRECTING THEM! OH, THIS IS SUBLIME! THIS IS ART! THIS IS—WAIT—OH MY GOODNESS, SHE'S MADE THE FLOOR TURN INTO A LASER SLIDE!"
Indeed, she had.
A beam of solidified light formed beneath her feet as she stepped forward—a glowing bridge that curved upward into the ceiling.
With a single graceful movement, she glided along the beam and vanished through a dimensional ripple into Floor 24.
Julian clapped with wild joy.
"LOOK AT THAT FORM! LOOK AT THAT SUBTLETY! LOOK AT THAT COMPLETE DISREGARD FOR THE EGO OF HER OPPONENTS!"
On Floor 24, the challenge changed drastically.
This chamber was a jungle of animated vines—every vine made of shimmering energy, every leaf made of razor-thin mirror shards. Fighters had to dodge, weave, and decipher which vines were traps and which were potential pathways.
The vines saw Lira.
And hesitated.
Light bled from her skin in waves, softening the edges of every reflective surface in the chamber. Even the plants seemed to calm in her presence, their erratic swaying slowed to a gentle rhythm.
One vine snapped at her, biting down with serrated mirror teeth.
But the moment it touched the halo of light around her, its reflections bent backward—
it couldn't find her surface to bite.
She whispered, barely audible:
"You are beautiful, but too sharp."
Her hand brushed the vine gently.
It curled backward as if soothed.
Julian squealed happily:
"I WOULD LIKE EVERYONE TO TAKE NOTE THAT SHE JUST PETTED A DIMENSIONAL DEATH VINE AND IT BECAME DOCILE. THIS IS VERY OUT OF THE ORDINARY! PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME!"
Other vines reached toward Lira.
Not to attack.
But to support.
They lifted her carefully, forming steps of soft green light leading upward to the next door.
Jake, far below, sneezed as he smashed through a rock corridor.
Swift danced across wind platforms.
Jade blasted his way through a crystal maze.
The Wolf King devoured a lightning monster and kept running.
But Lira?
She barely touched the ground.
She crossed Floor 24 in under a minute.
On Floor 25, a massive guardian awaited her—
a hulking lion made of fractured gemstones and light-rays.
Each breath it exhaled cut through the air like blades.
Competitors nearby groaned.
"Oh no—"
"The Prism Lion—"
"No one passes without a fight—"
The lion roared.
Starlight cracked across the chamber.
Julian gasped, floating upside down.
"OHHHH THIS IS BAD—THIS IS VERY BAD—BUT ALSO AMAZING FOR RATINGS—PLEASE CONTINUE—DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD—"
The Prism Lion lowered its head and charged.
Lira raised her hand.
The chamber brightened.
The lion kept charging—
until it slowed.
Then slowed more.
And then stopped.
The creature blinked at her in confusion, its multiple reflected faces swirling like a kaleidoscope.
Lira's voice was calm.
"You are not angry. You are afraid."
The lion tensed.
"You want to protect the tower."
The lion tilted its head.
"You are allowed to be gentle."
And then—
impossibly—
she reached out and touched its nose.
The Prism Lion shimmered, its aggressive angles softening. Its core light shifted from violent red to calm green.
It leaned forward and bowed.
The crowd went silent for a moment.
Even Julian Breadstone paused, jaw hanging open so wide a starfish creature dropped popcorn into it.
He gasped and swallowed.
"She just… CALMED THE TOWER GUARDIAN. SHE PETTED A COSMIC LION INTO SUBMISSION. I—THIS—THE RATINGS ARE GOING TO GO THROUGH THE ROOF—"
The Prism Lion walked aside.
Quiet.
Graceful.
Allowing Lira to pass.
She bowed to it.
Then continued upward.
Other fighters, even those locked in battles on other floors, felt the ripple of her ascent.
Swift paused momentarily on Floor 16, sensing her light.
Jake yelled from somewhere behind him, "WHOEVER DID THAT, THANK YOU!"
The Wolf King slowed his pace—not out of fear, but out of interest.
"Hm."
He sniffed the air.
"Soft light. Gentle power."
He leaped upward through a cyclone barrier.
"She will reach high."
Back in the stands, the spectators buzzed with excitement.
A crystalline commentator from a neighboring universe whispered,
"She may reach the top tiers."
A floating jelly-being pulsed in agreement.
Magic Kid materialized beside Julian out of nowhere.
"I LIKE HER! SHE'S SO CALM! SHE'S LIKE A SLEEPY SUNBEAM!"
Julian screamed. "YOU CAN'T BE UP HERE!"
Magic Kid turned into glitter and vanished.
Julian screamed again.
Lira reached Floor 30.
The chamber shifted.
Not hostile.
Not violent.
A hall of mirrors.
This room reflected not the fighters—
but their potential selves.
Most fighters panicked in these illusions.
Most saw fears.
Or desires.
Or avatars of who they might become.
Lira stepped inside.
The mirrors lit softly around her.
No twisted illusions appeared.
No nightmares.
No alternate selves.
Only light.
Gentle.
Steady.
True.
She moved through the room as if floating in a dream.
Light parted for her.
Mirrors opened like doors.
The final mirror split in half, revealing a staircase of soft radiance that curled upward like a moonlit path.
Julian clutched his own hat like he might faint.
"THIS—THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE! MOST FIGHTERS STRUGGLE FOR SEVERAL MINUTES IN THE HALL OF MIRRORS! BUT NO—SHE JUST PEACEFULLY WALKS THROUGH LIKE SHE'S TAKING A STROLL THROUGH A SPA!"
He paused, then added helpfully:
"I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO TAKE A SPA DAY."
Lira reached the top step.
Floor 31 waited, shimmering with shifting geometry.
She stepped inside without fear.
Behind her, the Prism Lion roared proudly.
Soft Light Lira became one of the first fighters to reach the upper third of the tower.
She would not win the tournament.
She would not be in the final ten.
But she would climb higher than nearly anyone expected.
Higher than most believed possible.
Gentle did not mean weak.
Soft light could cut, heal, bend, and illuminate in ways nothing else could.
And she would earn her place—
one of the top 500 fighters to advance to Round Two.
Julian pointed at the feed with both hands.
"REMEMBER THIS FIGHTER, PEOPLE! SHE'S QUIET! SHE'S CALM! SHE'S PROBABLY EMBARRASSED I'M TALKING ABOUT HER! BUT SHE IS A FORCE OF BEAUTY AND DANGER!"
Lira looked up briefly at the sound of her name.
She smiled softly.
And climbed.