Led by her Grace, she pressed into a valley of flower buds that unfurled along her path, blooming with each step she took.
As she advanced closer, several roots and vines attempted to bind and subdue her, yet with a single wave of her staff, their borrowed will collapsed, and they stiffened back into their original forms.
She was aware that some distant force wished to deter her from reaching the center of the devoured boundary. However, it was far too remote to muster the potency required to halt her advance.
Still, she knew the others had been caught off guard, an unsettling revelation, considering that boy was not the type to be taken by surprise so easily.
She did not stop or turn back, because she trusted him to recover on his own and reach out to her once more when the time came to neutralize the Chief and open the boundary.
So she halted at the point she determined to be the center, an area indistinguishable from any other, and she rested.
Still and patient, she waited and waited, meditating within a field of her own thoughts.
She cultivated her spirit and tethered her faith even to the muted presence of the dull world.
A day passed.
Two days.
Three days.
And on the fourth, a vibration stirred her wrist from the band encircling it.
"Connect."
A link opened between two A.D.As, and she waited expectantly for the voice that would travel through.
<"...that public shuttle that went down Maury Street, I've always wondered why it had two different destinations. I remember that day I almost took the airport route.">
"That's strange. I remember it going through Phil Street instead, and I told you that day that a clueless kid who couldn't even read the bus route shouldn't be wandering a big city alone."
They greeted one another with a simple, straightforward proof of identity.
It wasn't that she was aware of the reason for such verification, rather, it was already implied by the nature of his first statement.
<"For the record, you know I'm not the type to give grand hellos.">
"I was wondering why I'd been unusually at peace for so long. To think it was because I didn't have to deal with your nonsense for so many days."
<"Really, now? Don't worry, I was worried about you, too, Clarisse.">
"Oh, put a sock in it!"
<"Wait, what?">
The smug voice on the other end of the line was one of the few things capable of riling her to such an extent, yet it was also the one thing that could finally calm her racing heart after eight silent days.
He eventually filled her in on the current situation, and as she had surmised, their odds were not particularly pleasant at the moment.
But they were far from hopeless.
"Well, I'm here, and prepared to fulfill my mission whenever you're ready… Are you?"
<"What? Of course not. I just got done fighting for my life, and I'm mentally drained as it is. Honestly, I'm still contemplating scrapping the idea of saving that little sh*t entirely.">
"Cosmo."
<"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. We're getting ready to climb that shell."> He clarified. <"Yes, I have a plan, and no, it's not guaranteed.">
She heard him continue muttering to himself, minor details slipping from his train of thought, but she paid it no mind as she began her own execution.
She stabbed the end of her staff into the ground and began.
"~Evident Majesty whose glory cannot be shared, whose grace cannot be overturned, whose covenant is assured and fulfilled. What can we offer but what has been stolen? The earth and the sky are deceived and have forgotten their Maker. Yet even after the name that underlies all is erased from our meager sight, they still tremble with that love. So we shall return them to a past they seek yet cannot find.~"
A seed.
One of light, reflecting the spirit of the boundary, rose out of nothing before her.
It was far larger than her being, but only just enough that she could still behold its entire form.
It yearned to gleam a bright green, accompanied by every color of the rainbow, yet a black blotch coated its heart at the center, speaking of an outsider that wished to redefine its truth.
…
Over and over, in that same lecture hall, her platinum hair was brushed.
She didn't know how long she had been waiting, but it would surely be worth it when everything was finally in place.
When that one finally grew beyond it all, and when she herself made up her mind.
"Try to hold still, Rita." The girl who was happily brushing her hair had surprisingly little to say to her regarding her dilemma.
"I am trying…"
"It's been so long that it looks like you haven't been taking care of it the way I told you to. But don't worry, I'll try to clean you up before your friends come to get you."
She could not begin to guess what her friend with cream‑colored hair kept insisting upon.
The way to her friends was where she was headed anyway, so who exactly did she need to wait for?
All they had to do was grow. Grow so they could surpass it all. And when they did, everything could change. Everything tethered to that truth she so desperately wanted to rewrite.
"My friends aren't coming. I have to get to them. I will get back to them… to you."
"…"
"Whitney…"
"Hm?"
"Why won't you scold me?"
"About what?"
"About everything. Why won't you tell me I'm wrong to do this? Why won't you tell me I'm a horrible person?"
Her friend did not chastise her as she wished, leaving her with no way to silence the shred of doubt that still lingered.
"Your new bestie… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous. She's so cool and strong. And I'm sure she still wants to get back to you after all this, because she's so kind."
"…She is."
"She would probably be able to do what you're hoping for, too. But–"
"That's all that matters to me! That's all I care about right now, so scold me! Tell me I'm horrible for only using her, just like I'm using that one. All to get what I want!"
"…"
"If you won't get in my way, then I don't have to erase the you that's in my memories to do this. So just step aside and wait."
All of it, including her, was swallowed by a blank white space.
There was nothing in it but Rita herself, or rather, two of her.
As she was now, she was curled, waiting for an outcome she could not foresee.
While her other self gazed down from a distant future. One that had long since been erased since the moment the Nebula entered this boundary.
She was taller, but her spirit shone far less. Stronger, but her will had been whittled down to nothing.
She was a fighter, yet she did not wear the insignia of an officer.
And she expressed nothing but contempt.
Still, they would have to speak to one another. That was the only way they could be resolute about their goal.
"Are you finally prepared?"
She was asked, but she knew there was no need to respond.
Surely, Rita knew the answer.
In truth, there was nothing left that could stall her anymore.
""Enough time has passed.""
Within that heartless trial, they trusted that the sword they hoped to forge from blood was nearing completion.
Now they only had to accelerate the chronology within that world, and they would have it, the ultimate killer they needed to seize the one future they desired.
"I'm so sorry, Blue."
It would have been easier for her to carry out the plan if Blue had simply been the kind of girl who would hate her for what she was about to do.
That would have been a semblance of retribution, because Rita truly was fond of her. And because of that, it took a monumental amount of time–time separate from the real world–for her to finally make the decision.
So they once again extended their consciousness back toward that zone, the one they avoided observing, so she wouldn't be swayed by the suffering they knew was inevitable.
However, there was nothing to be found.
That little world, and everything it held, had been shattered.
And the culprit? It was him again.
That fool she deeply hated, the one she had failed to kill.
He had managed to put an end to their stress test, but that wasn't the most infuriating part. It was that this event had not been foreseen at all.
Meaning, whether accidentally or intentionally, that fool had managed to slip past their sight and alter the future.
This was the worst possible outcome, so their priority had to shift.
First and foremost, they would have to kill him before he became an even greater problem.