Absynthe's body cut through the collapsing battlefield, gravity bending around her like an unseen force.
Her warcry still hung in the air, vibrating through her very bones.
"I'm coming, Obsidion!"
But she wasn't alone.
Beside her, Synthena mirrored her charge, red and blue dust swirling violently, pulsing with raw power.
They were two forces against the impossible, bodies weightless, movements synchronized.
Then—the Hydra watched.
Six searing eyes locked onto them—gold, unwavering; red, sorrowful; green, flickering with fear.
A clash of emotions, splintered into something monstrous.
Something familiar.
Something Absynthe should have noticed long before.
A pulse rippled outward—an unseen force tightening around them, suffocating, suffocating—
No.
They couldn't hesitate now.
Absynthe willed the gravity forward, amplifying the force, turning weightlessness into momentum.
Synthena matched her, dust exploding outward, shaping energy into protection.
*************************************************************
Absynthe surged forward, but something was off.
Her gravity pull felt unstable, erratic—unpredictable.
Why?
She pushed forward but felt a strange fatigue weighing her down—her muscles sluggish, her focus wavering.
Her gaze flicked toward the blazing sun.
Daytime.
Her celestial power was weakened.
But she couldn't stop now.
She forced herself forward, slicing through the gold-eyed Hydra head with a reckless swing.
The attack landed—but sloppy, uncontrolled, barely hitting its mark.
The gravity around her faltered—wild surges of energy slipping beyond her control.
"Whaaoohhh, Abby—control your gravity, it's unstable!"
Synthena's voice rang out, her body flopping unceremoniously in the air.
She twisted, arms flailing, barely keeping herself afloat.
"I thought flying was supposed to feel like swimming, not like a fish out of water!"
Her sarcasm cracked through the tension, but panic laced the edges of her voice.
Absynthe gritted her teeth.
Focus. She had to focus.
"Celestia—can you see any weak points?!"
Celestia's voice crackled through the comms.
"Im looking ,most of the cameras are damaged from the battle ,just give me a few minutes!"
Absynthe barely had time to process the intel—because the green-eyed Hydra head was already moving.
Its mouth askew, teeth bared—a slow-motion glimpse of razor-sharp fangs closing in on her and Synthena.
A clear, terrifying vision of what awaited if she failed to react.
With a quick dodge, she twisted away—but in her panic, the gravity slipped from her grip.
Synthena was launched back—flying a mile off-course, struggling for control.
For a split second, Absynthe saw the chaos unfold.
The city around them—collapsing structures, broken surveillance, tension crackling through the battlefield.
The enemy ahead—Obsidion, a Hydra, something between nightmare and memory.
And the battle itself—hers to control, but slipping beyond her grasp.
She had to fix this.
Synthena conjured an extra-plump mattress, cushioning her fall as she landed with a bounce—just for a split second of relief.
Her eyes flicked upward.
Absynthe was battling above, gravity unstable, attacks reckless.
Then—her eyes widened.
The Hydra's massive tail was swinging toward her, a devastating strike ready to crush everything in its path.
No time to think.
Synthena launched herself off the mattress, using it like a trampoline, kicking upward, narrowly dodging the incoming slam.
The tail crashed down—obliterating the mattress into nothing.
She twisted midair, limbs flailing, desperately adjusting her descent.
Landing wasn't graceful.
She hit the ground belly-first, skidding across the pavement, momentarily winded before forcing herself up.
"I can't find anything! Damnit!"
Celestia's voice echoed through their earpieces, frustration crackling through the static.
But fate wasn't final.
Synthena's gaze caught movement.
A single unscathed camera, lying sideways on the ground—still functional.
She saw her own feet reflected in its glass, white leg warmers distinct against the dust.
Celestia's voice pierced through the comms.
"Synthena! Behind you—there's a camera! Pick it up and show me!"
Her pulse spiked.
She spun, eyes locking onto the camera, exactly where Celestia had pinpointed.
No hesitation.
She charged, scooping up the device in one motion.
With a quick throw over her shoulder, she ran forward, posture spread out like a spider, camera pointed upward—lens capturing Absynthe's battle against the Hydra.
Through the screen, Celestia's sharp gaze analyzed the shadowed mist surrounding Obsidion's distorted frame.
And then—something shifted.
A crack in the corruption.
and opening !
************************************************************************
"Absynthe! Left flank—there's a crack in the Hydra's core!
Slice through it—it should breach Obsidion's twisted form!
It's unstable, but it's weak enough to strike! Attack now—with force!"
Celestia's voice pierced through the comms, urgent, unyielding.
Absynthe's gaze locked onto the crack within the Hydra's core, and sure enough—a golden light seeped through.
Her breath hitched.
Her struggles—clear as fire, her focus unwavering.
Her grip tightened around her sword, determination surging through every fiber of her being.
She squinted, eyes flickering with fiery passion.
"Let's do this!"
With a battle cry ripping through the air, Absynthe charged forward, sword raised high.
"YAAAHHHHHHHH—OBSIDION!"
Her blade exploded with silver and gold light, the sheer force of her unwavering resolve transforming it into something beyond mere steel.
Energy surged through her body like lightning, racing through her silver veins, flickering like the heart of a raging star.
Her eyes glistened with the weight of hope.
And in that moment—they were united.
Celestia behind the comms. Synthena on the surface. All three sharing the same unshaken determination.
Absynthe's sword grew, its hefty length extending with the force of her will.
The Hydra reacted.
It roared—a monstrous, deafening blast of fire, a final desperate attempt to erase her existence.
Absynthe dodged—but her gravity was unstable.
Her right arm was thrown wildly to the side, an uneven, messy maneuver.
She fell backward, the momentum shoving her off balance, her control slipping for just an instant.
From below, Synthena watched, camera still in hand, breath caught in her throat.
Celestia stared in desperation, scanning the battlefield for any possible escape.
Absynthe's body tensed.
She had lost control.
But then—she gritted her teeth, forcing herself forward.
She didn't resist the instability. She harnessed it.
With one final push, she redirected her falling momentum, twisting her body into a reckless strike.
A silver-gold blade, charged with her defiance, carved through the air.
All three cried in unison, their voices echoing across the battlefield, resonating with unshaken determination.
And then—impact.
The blade collided with the Hydra's core, slicing through the golden crack Celestia had spotted—a weak point buried within Obsidion's twisted form.
The instant the strike landed—something fractured.
A pulse rippled outward, violent and unrestrained, twisting the battlefield in an unpredictable surge of energy.
Absynthe felt it in her veins, a force trying to push back—to reject her presence, to resist her intrusion.
But she held firm.
Her grip tightened, knuckles white, breath hitched.
The Hydra screamed—three voices intertwining into one monstrous howl, reverberating through the city.
Its gold-eyed head flickered, the glow pulsing erratically—resisting, faltering, struggling.
Celestia's voice crackled through the comms—sharp, urgent.
"Something's happening—I'm detecting instability! The corruption is reacting!"
Absynthe's pulse hammered.
****************************************************************************
The battlefield shifted, the weight of the moment pressing down like an unrelenting force.
The Overwatchers—the army that once held firm—retreated, scattering like ghosts fleeing the remnants of a nightmare.
Their voices rose in panicked confusion, their screams echoing through the wreckage, minds struggling to grasp what they had just witnessed.
A soldier's voice crackled through the comms, shaken yet steady enough to deliver his report.
"Sir—the Vector has been destroyed. I repeat—the Vector has been destroyed."
His face remained hidden in shadow, only his mouth visible, pressed tight as he spoke into the earpiece.
Silence.
Then—a voice answered, deep and authoritative, the unmistakable tone of a superior officer.
"What is your report?"
The soldier hesitated.
"Uh… it appears to be two females," he stammered, disbelief bleeding into his words. "One with white hair, the other with pink and cosmic blue hair… They—uh—they look like high school students, but they possess… sorcery?"
A pause.
The voice behind the intercom stiffened, stunned.
Then—a slow turn.
He faced a tall, disciplined figure, his presence commanding, his slicked-back gray and black hair adding an eerie sharpness to his stance.
His words were measured, laced with concern.
"Sir… our collection of the specimen has been obstructed."
A beat.
"By two high school students."
A deeper silence filled the room.
The air grew heavy, anticipation curling around every breath.
The intercom officer shifted uneasily, glancing toward the unmoving figure before him.
"What are your orders, sir?"
Still, no reply.
The disciplined figure—a man of high stature, of calculated thought—stood tall.
And then—he grinned.
Intrigued. Unfazed. Amused.