Robin stood at the heart of the silent duel arena, her work complete. The once-thunderous battleground now lay in eerie stillness, its combatants suspended in the dreamverse she had woven. They slumbered, caught in an endless cycle of illusion, their minds drifting in perfect, manufactured bliss.
A red sigil pulsed gently before her, casting an ominous glow over her knowing smile.
"I wish all of you good luck..." she murmured, though none of them could hear her anymore.
The moment was hers. Complete control, an entire audience of champions locked in a never-ending play of her design.
Except for one.
A ragged gasp broke the stillness.
Clara.
She stumbled forward, her small frame shaking. Her usually fierce eyes were red-rimmed, wide with horror and grief. The very power Clara once wielded was now stripped from her, rendered useless in the face of Robin's enchantment.
Robin raised a brow. "Oh? You're still conscious?"
Clara said nothing. Her lips trembled, and then, as if something within her shattered, she surged forward.
She struck Robin with her fists, weak, shaking, desperate. Again and again, she pounded against Robin's chest, her blows mere echoes of the strength she once commanded.
"Give them back!" Clara sobbed, her voice raw, broken. "Give everyone back! I don't care what you want—this isn't right! Yuri, March 7th, everyone—they don't belong in your dream! They have their own lives!"
Robin chuckled, effortlessly catching one of Clara's hands mid-swing. She twisted it cruelly, forcing the girl to her knees. "Oh, Clara… you poor thing." She leaned down, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "You think they want to leave?"
Clara looked up, her breath hitching. Robin tilted her head, feigning innocence. "They're happy now. Safe. No pain, no struggles. A dream is far kinder than the real world, don't you think?"
Clara shook her head violently. "That's not true! You don't get to decide that!"
Robin merely smirked as red marks under her eyes began to glow, as the tightening of her grip became stronger before shoving Clara back onto the cold stone floor. The girl let out a small cry, her hands trembling as she tried to push herself up.
"You're so naive," Robin mused. "Yuri, March 7th—they'll never return. None of them will." She leaned closer, her shadow stretching over Clara. "And you? You're just a little anomaly. You can't fight, you can't resist. What will you do, Clara?"
Clara's breath came in ragged gasps. She felt it—her resolve beginning to crack. Her strength was gone, and no matter how much she fought, Robin was right. She was powerless. She—
A deep, resonant voice cut through the air.
"You have gone far enough, Robin."
The air shifted. The pressure changed.
Until suddenly...
The very fabric of the temporary dreamscape that Robin had created to keep everybody sheltered within...had been broken!...
Robin froze, then turned slowly.
Zhongli stood at the edge of the stage that Robin had made her presence felt with, his golden gaze unwavering, his expression unreadable. Power radiated from him in quiet, effortless waves. He carried himself with absolute certainty, as if the weight of millennia rested on his shoulders and yet did not burden him in the slightest.
"You should have worked a little harder to maintain your little dome Robin." Zhongli confidently rang out.
Robin's smirk returned, though it faltered ever so slightly. "Well, well. The has-been has made his own special guest appearance! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Zhongli's eyes flicked briefly to Clara, then back to Robin. "I ask you again—what are you doing?"
Robin chuckled, crossing her arms. "Isn't it obvious? I'm giving them what they all truly want!" She gestured lazily to the sleeping crowd. "They don't have to fight anymore. They can dream forever."
Zhongli stepped forward, his tone calm yet firm. "And what of their will? Their right to choose?"
Robin's gaze darkened. "You sound just like her." She gestured toward Clara. "Why does it matter? They can all leave if they so choose but for what purpose? What's the point of waking up if all that awaits them is pain?"
Zhongli did not hesitate. "As if whatever those damn dreams are anything but pain."
Robin exhaled through her nose, something flashing in her eyes. "As if somebody of your existence would know what it's like to feel pain. A has-been will forever remain a has-been."
Zhongli's stance did not shift, but something in the air grew heavier. More focused. A subtle, undeniable authority pressed down on the space between them.
"The has-been will put an end to your pathetic game.."
For the first time, Robin's smirk fully vanished.
The dreamverse trembled.
Then suddenly, she laughed—soft at first, then swelling into a full, manic chuckle that echoed through the ever-shifting realm. She clapped her hands together, her eyes alight with twisted amusement.
"Well then, Zhongli. I suppose I should prepare the stage just for you."
With a snap of her fingers, the ground beneath them shuddered. A ripple, violent and relentless, pulsed outward. The solid stone of the duel arena fractured, crumbling into dust before being consumed by a vast, golden expanse. The ground twisted and churned, reshaping itself into rolling dunes of fine, endless sand, stretching infinitely under a pitch-black sky. The weight of the abyss above made the air thick and suffocating, pressing down like an unseen hand that sought to crush all beneath it. An eerie wind howled, carrying whispers—chilling, ancient murmurs that slithered through the air like spectral fingers.
Zhongli narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable. His feet sank slightly into the sand, yet his posture remained firm, unwavering. He slowly exhaled, as if testing the air itself.
"A desert?" His lips curled slightly, an edge of amusement flickering across his usually impassive features. "You grant me an infinite supply of my own element? How foolish."
Robin giggled again, lifting a hand. A small, swirling portal crackled into existence beside her, its surface writhing as if struggling to contain the chaos within. The moment it appeared, Zhongli felt it—something cold, unnatural. His gaze sharpened, his body shifting ever so slightly.
Something was wrong.
Robin reached inside, fingers vanishing into the shifting void. When she withdrew her hand, it clutched something stark white, something ancient. A mask. Pristine yet ominous, as if carved from the very essence of the void itself. Her fingers traced its edges, reverent, almost affectionate. Then, slowly, deliberately, she placed it over her face.
The change was immediate.
Darkness exploded from her form, twisting and curling around her like sentient shadows. The air vibrated violently, humming with a primal force that defied comprehension. The sand beneath her feet darkened, the grains turning ashen, cracking as if the very concept of stability rejected her presence. The abyss above twisted in response, tendrils of inky blackness spiraling outward, writhing like the limbs of some unseen entity beyond mortal understanding.
Then, from her back, something massive and terrible unfurled.
A single, enormous black wing, its feathers rippling like liquid night, spread wide. It cast a vast, imposing silhouette against the starless void above. The motion alone sent a tremor through the air, distorting the space around her as if reality itself struggled to contain her form.
A crescent-shaped naginata scythe materialized in her grasp, coalescing from pure malevolent energy. The blade gleamed with a sickly luminescence, its edge distorting the very air it sliced through, warping light, bending space. The whispers in the wind grew louder, their voices rising into a chorus of something both worshipful and horrified.
Robin leveled the weapon at Zhongli, her voice both cocky and reverent, laced with something deeper—a quiet, lethal promise.
"Go ahead and play with your little rocks, old man. I will use existence itself as my answer to you."
Zhongli's fingers flexed slightly at his sides. The air around him shifted. He did not raise his hands, nor did he draw forth any weapon. Yet the sand beneath his feet stilled, as if waiting for his command. The oppressive force Robin emanated did not touch him, did not so much as make his robes waver.
His golden eyes locked onto hers, unshaken.
"Then let us see whose existence holds greater weight."
The air split with energy. The sky above churned, clouds of darkness twisting into spirals of rage. The sands trembled, shifting, waiting.
In the next moment, the battle would begin..
A clash not just of power...
but a battle for everyone's souls...