RYŌIKI: Pale Desert.
The black sky collapsed. Dunes turned white. A cracked, pale-blue moon hung too low. The lid sealed, and the outside world slipped away until only three remained in the silence:
Cyrus. Tikhan. Faye.
Faye's face stayed expressionless. She tilted her parasol; her shadow stretched like a throat.
SPIRIT SUMMON — GROOTSLANG!
An ivory sigil flashed at her wrist; a diamond-tusked serpent emerged from the darkness—elephant head, serpent body, scales like black glass. It struck the sand, and the dunes bowed.
Cyrus's aura tightened inward, his voice quiet. RYŌIKI LAW — MEMORY BIND.
Light that should have died clung to the beast's outline; color returned to its eyes; its weight grew under the dead moon. The Grootslang expanded—coils stacking, tusks grinding—until it filled the seam.
"Go."
It lunged.
Tikhan didn't move.
CRYO — PERMAFROST.
Cold radiated from his boots in a ring. The Grootslang's first twenty meters of belly froze to glass; heat and motion stopped in a single shutter. Frost clung to its scales; steam turned to crystals.
"Hold," Faye whispered. ABYSS OVERLAY — FUSE.
A dull black sheen coated the beast's ribs. The Pale Desert's slight gravity bucked under Cyrus's field; the Grootslang tore loose with a ripping crack, leaving behind frost and flesh impressions.
It reared up, casting a shadow as large as a city, then came down like a collapsing wall.
Tikhan's eyes tracked.
CRYO — ICE WALL.
A fortress-sized slab erupted and rose to meet the strike. The impact sounded like a mountain bite. The wall shifted during the clash, pushing the serpent's head away, then slid forward like a battering ram until the Grootslang's jaw scraped along it, teeth and frozen blood spraying in all directions. The wall pressed forward, trying to trap head and neck between two plates—a pouring ice vise.
Cyrus raised two fingers. VOID MUTI — SILENCE FIELD.
All sound ceased visibly. Friction vanished from the Grootslang's skin; the vise missed by inches as the beast slipped through like smoke. It slithered sideways—
Tikhan's chin dipped slightly.
CRYO — FANG VOLLEY.
Spikes shot out in a fan from the frozen ground—sharp lances piercing the serpent's left flank, shattering scales, pinning a coil to the dune. A second wave split into needle swarms midair, chewing into the softer underscales into red snow.
Faye remained still. Her toe traced a quick seal in the dirt. PACK WEAVING — DOUBLE BIND.
Her shadow spawned two more shapes: a bone-filled Ossuary Hound as big as a cart and a horn-crowned Stone Ram, sizzling with heat tags. Both attacked simultaneously—the hound took the fang volley for the Grootslang, causing ribs to explode into shrapnel; the ram rammed the nearest ice wall, leaving spiderweb cracks.
Tikhan still hadn't moved.
CRYO — PERMAFROST.
The ring pulsed again—the hound mid-leap froze in the air and shattered, and the ram's forelegs locked, causing it to face plant, horn stumping off with a brittle bang.
"Up," Faye's voice was nearly a whisper. RECALL — SNAP.
The hound dissolved back into shadow dust before the shards settled. The ram re-formed its front legs with a hiss of tags and howled as it pushed upward.
The Grootslang used the moment. It heaved, tore three spikes loose with wet pops, and reared again—body coiling, coils stacking higher, mouth yawning to reveal a cavern of diamond.
Cyrus's field pulled everything toward Heart Chaser's edge; the serpent's strike line straightened as if drawn.
"Now."
It fell like a guillotine.
Tikhan's breath fogged once.
CRYO — ICE WALL.
Two slabs snapped into a cage around the skull—then kept squeezing. Tusk screeched against crystal, cracking and snapping. Blood sprayed into rose mist, froze instantly, then tinkled back to the ground as red hail. The Grootslang thrashed—Faye's overlay held, Cyrus's bind kept its weight, and the walls rotated on a hidden hinge, breaking vertebrae with a zipper of cracks.
The tail sliced at Tikhan like a scythe.
He didn't parry. He didn't step.
CRYO — FANG VOLLEY.
A low, tearing fan of spikes struck the tail and glued it to the ground. The next volley aimed at muscles and eyes, each wave falling with surgical boredom.
Faye's parasol tilted the other way. The shadow widened.
SPIRIT SUMMON — PACK APEX!
Three lean beasts emerged—jackal silhouettes in dark mist, eyes like coins. Cyrus's Ryōiki bound them with the same law: MEMORY BIND. Their outlines hardened; their feet left imprints where nothing had. They sprinted with streaming tails, carving an S-curve up the Grootslang's wounded flank toward Tikhan.
Winter answered winter.
Tikhan's gaze dropped to the sand between them.
CRYO CONSTRUCT — WINTER PACK.
Wolves formed from frost, broad-shouldered and iron-ribbed, vapor manes rising from their spines. They didn't step out—they became the floor, bursting through a spray of snow and glass. Six, eight, ten. Their eyes absorbed the pale light, stubborn and unwavering. None looked at Faye. All looked first at Cyrus, then turned to meet the jackals.
They collided mid-step.
Jackal teeth met frozen throats; wolf jaws closed and cut shadow; a jackal dissolved into ink mid-air; a wolf snapped it back, paws pinning it until Faye could pull it back into the veil.
The Grootslang convulsed one last time, body coiling as if trying to stand.
Tikhan's eyes flicked left.
CRYO — PERMAFROST.
Everything needed for the serpent's movement froze. The next moment, all he heard was the cracking of bones under its own weight.
Faye exhaled slowly, calm as a coin. "Again."
ABYSS OVERLAY — FUSE. The overlay darkened—oil-thick void sheen.
PACK WEAVING — CHAIN CALL. Two more jackals emerged from her shadow on the move; the Stone Ram lowered its head, now steaming like a forge. Cyrus's field pushed forward; the Pale Desert shifted the angle.
Tikhan's arms remained crossed.
The ice shifted for him. The wolves of Winter Neverland bared their crystal fangs. The next crash grew louder.