Delacroix Club
Euripython Belt Station
Euripython solar system
Euripython Star sector
Euripython Galaxy
22nd Krios cycle, Solaris Prime
Leon's senses sharpened as the unmistakable pressure of powerful beings closed in on the club. Their auras pressed against the very walls of the building, seeping into the atmosphere like an oppressive fog. It was as if the air itself had thickened, charged with a palpable tension that weighed heavily on every inch of the space. The energy outside vibrated with a sense of purpose, with an unmistakable intent that curled into the atmosphere like smoke—unseen, but suffocating.
Within those auras, Leon could feel it: the unmistakable presence of killing intent. The dark pulse of malice that cut through the ambient energy like a blade, trying to twist fear into their hearts. It was an ancient, primal thing—intimidation so potent it sought to rattle the soul, to provoke panic in even the most hardened hearts. The very force of their presence seemed designed to fracture the mind, to break the will and make one feel small, insignificant in the face of such power.
But Leon—Leon didn't flinch. His gaze remained steady, unwavering, as the presence outside surged against him like a storm crashing against a mountain. The power of it was immense, but Leon had felt far worse, faced far darker things. This was nothing. He yawned lazily, his body fluid in its movements, his face relaxed as though nothing in the world could touch him. The aura surrounding him was his own—a shield that absorbed and neutralized the pressure, leaving him untouched.
With a slow, deliberate movement, he stretched his arms and strolled towards the door, the casualness of his pace a sharp contrast to the rising storm of energy outside. He could feel the weight of the killing intent brushing against him, but he paid it no mind. It was a trivial thing, a mere distraction. His steps were calm, each one measured, his body moving with the grace of someone completely unbothered by the chaotic energy around him.
He yawned again, his lips curving into an almost playful smirk. Let them try, he thought, the quiet amusement running through him like a private joke. There was no need to rush, no need to react. The world outside could wait. He was in no hurry.
Leon pushed the door open with a lazy motion, stepping out into the storm of energy with the same nonchalance as if he were taking a morning stroll. The air outside crackled with tension, the killing intent still present, but it meant nothing to him. His footsteps echoed in the stillness, his presence an unshakable certainty as he walked into the heart of the storm, his calmness like an anchor in the tempest.
The enemies before Leon were a striking sight, draped in sleek, advanced armor—vivid violet cybertech that shimmered with an almost unnatural sheen. Their suits were more than just protection; they were a statement, each plate of the armor embedded with intricate, glowing patterns of circuitry. At the center of their chest plates was a cog, surrounded by delicate, flowing lines of interwoven circuits that radiated outward in a perfect, radial pattern, like the spokes of a mechanical flower. The symbol was unmistakable—signifying their affiliation with the Ganymede Empire and its focus on cybernetic integration. But this wasn't the official military; these were the Warriors of Ganymede, mercenaries most likely tied to private corporations operating in this quadrant, operating in the shadows of the official empire.
These warriors were more than human, though. They were something other. The Terran humans were a strong species, but these individuals bore a distinct, almost unsettling quality that set them apart. Their bodies were enhanced far beyond what normal human genetics could provide—cybernetic augmentations that flowed seamlessly into their flesh, enhancing every movement, every thought, every reaction. They were an evolved breed of humanity, an elite group that might rival even the Pleiadians—the strongest known race in the universe. Their genetic modifications gave them strength, speed, and intelligence that eclipsed that of the average Terran, making them formidable adversaries.
Leon could feel their eyes upon him as he strolled out of the club, holding the key—the very item they had come for. The Digital Legion, a specialized team selected by the Omega Corporation from Ganymede, immediately recognized him. The name Leonard Haravok was no stranger to them. A powerful Paladin of Starlight, a notable figure within the Divine Federation. But their intel had labeled him as a mere Master realm expert, a title that, to their eyes, seemed laughably understated.
The warriors felt it—the relaxed, almost casual energy that radiated off of Leon as he moved. He didn't carry himself with the typical tension that would be expected from someone surrounded by so many deadly forces. There was a certain arrogance to his nonchalance, an ease that suggested he didn't even perceive them as a true threat. Despite the palpable killing intent emanating from the warriors, he walked toward them as if he were on a leisurely stroll, effortlessly ignoring the hostility they projected.
One of the armored figures stepped forward, her presence commanding immediate attention. The others did not hesitate to part for her, shifting aside like soldiers giving way to a superior officer. Their respect for her was evident—not just in their posture, but in the overwhelming aura she emanated. She was a force of nature, her cultivation at the Peak Sage realm, a level of power that surpassed anything Leon had encountered recently. Her killing intent was sharp, suffocating, filling the space like a blade in the air. But none of that mattered to Leon. As his eyes met hers, everything around him faded into the background.
Leon's breath hitched, but it wasn't the overwhelming aura or the killing intent that stopped him in his tracks—it was her. She was the woman from his dreams, the only one he had ever desired with such intensity, the one whose face haunted him every night for fifty long years. Samantha Sinclair—her name echoed in his mind like a distant memory, but it wasn't just a name anymore. Her presence, her face, was etched into his very soul.
Samantha's eyes locked onto Leon, and something shifted within her. As her gaze fell upon him and the key he held, a strange sensation crept into her consciousness. It was as though a part of her mind, a part that she didn't recognize, was trying to push through. Something foreign yet familiar, like a missing piece of a puzzle, slipping into place. The second consciousness, the part of her that had been locked away, stirred with a quiet but persistent awareness. She felt the intrusion, the presence of another mind trying to exert control over her vessel.
Not now. This is my body, fuck off.
The words rang out in her mind, strong and clear. In an instant, the second consciousness was driven out, its influence fading like mist beneath the rising sun. Seraphina Sinclair—her true self—was back in control, the invader banished, her will unyielding. She had her life, her body, her purpose. No one, not even her other self, would take that from her.
Leon stood there, frozen, his eyes still locked onto Samantha, now Seraphina. He could sense the subtle shift, but he didn't know what to make of it. There was something different in the way she stood now, the way her eyes bore into him with a sharpness that had not been there moments before. And the key he held, the very thing they had all been after, felt heavier in his hands.
"So you're Leonard Haravok," Seraphina said, her voice cold and calculating as she studied him with an intensity that pierced through the air.
Leon's breath caught in his throat at the sound of her voice, the name slipping from his lips in a near whisper. "Sam..." His voice trembled with the weight of the memories it carried.
Seraphina's expression twisted into a scowl upon hearing the word. It was as though the name stung, pulling something deep within her to the surface that she clearly wanted to keep buried. Her features hardened, the vulnerability she had felt slipping away like sand through a clenched fist.
"I'm afraid you've got me mistaken for someone else," she said with a tone that was both dismissive and sharp, her words cutting the air like an edge of ice. But beneath the surface, there was a flicker of something deeper—a discomfort that lingered between them, unspoken but tangible.
"No..." Leon's voice grew firmer as his eyes shifted. His Hyperion Eyes activated, their intricate layers of quantum perception honing in on her like a laser. His gaze pierced through her form, delving into the very essence of her being. He could feel it—an undeniable truth. His connection to Sam's soul, the bond they had shared across time, reverberated in his chest. And now, in front of him, was Sam's soul, perfectly replicated in this woman's form.
Leon's eyes shimmered with a strange mix of awe and confusion. This was not an illusion, nor a shapeshifting trick. It wasn't magic or a clever disguise. What stood before him, despite the differences in her presence, was the same soul he had known so well. His mind screamed in realization. This person before me is Sam.
But from the way she looked at him, the coldness in her eyes, and the overwhelming aura of control she now wielded, Leon understood one thing—this was not the Sam he had known. There was something fundamentally different about her, something he couldn't quite grasp.
Seraphina didn't like the way Leon's eyes assessed her—his Hyperion Eyes peering straight into her soul with unsettling precision. She could feel his connection to her, an uncomfortable and foreign sensation that twisted in her chest. Though she didn't care to use her empathic abilities, she couldn't ignore the strange, charged emotions swirling between them. She felt his confusion, his recognition, but she also sensed something deeper, an unspoken longing, and an underlying fear.
With a sharp breath, Seraphina reached inward, activating her Dissonance—a mental barrier that scrambled her soul's wavelength, a force that pushed back against Leon's probing gaze. The instant the Dissonance locked in place, she could feel the tension break, the invasive pressure from his eyes fading. Leon's Hyperion Eyes flickered and shut off, momentarily stunned by the powerful distortion she had created.
"You're not Sam... yet you are her." Leon's voice was low, contemplative. He stepped back slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Who are you?"
"I'm Seraphina Sinclair," she said, her voice unwavering. She took a moment before adding, her words cold and precise, "You may have met my cousin, but know this: I am not her. Even if you think I am."
"Seraphina Sinclair," Leon repeated, testing the name on his tongue. His eyes remained fixed on her, though there was no recognition of the name in his mind. It was the face that had haunted him, the soul that felt familiar, but the woman before him was a stranger—a darker, more guarded version of the one he had known.
Rex, standing beside Leon, frowned deeply as his eyes scanned Seraphina. He shifted his weight, his gaze flicking between the two, noticing the unmistakable resemblance to Samantha Sinclair. But there was something in Seraphina's stance, something in her eyes, that told him this woman was not the same person.
"Asha'Yee, what should we do?" One of the Digital Legion agents asked, his voice crackling through the tense silence. He was the second in command—once the leader of this unit before Seraphina had arrived years ago, bringing with her the iron grip of control that had swiftly replaced his position.
Seraphina's lips curled into a cruel smile, her eyes narrowing as her thoughts turned darker. A murderous impulse flickered in her gaze as she glanced at the Digital Legion warriors behind her. Without hesitation, her voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Kill the rest! Leonard Haravok is mine," she ordered, her words dripping with lethal intent.
The moment she spoke, her cybernetic enhancements flared to life. Her figure blurred in an instant, faster than the eye could track, as she drew forth her Greatsword. The massive weapon gleamed in the low light, its form humming with an unnatural resonance. Her Eternal Resonance Armor shimmered into place, seamlessly integrating with the sleek layers of her cybertech armor, giving her a towering, unstoppable presence.
In a fluid motion, she swung the Greatsword down, the blade cutting through the air with a terrifying grace. Her strike was so swift, so powerful, that the very space around it seemed to warp in response. The air shook with the force of her blow, the sound of a distant thunderclap rattling the ground beneath their feet.
[Adamantium Style: Thunderclap Severance]
The slash of green light that followed distorted the space around it, warping the air and tearing through the fabric of reality itself. The roar of the attack was deafening, a sound that reverberated in the bones of everyone who heard it, like the tremor of a mighty storm breaking loose. The force of the strike sent shockwaves rippling outward, causing the ground to tremble as though struck by a great earthquake.
Leon immediately recognized the killing intent imbued in the attack, the depth of the destructive power that surged with every inch of the blade's arc. The speed, the raw energy behind it—he could feel it all. He had no doubt that if he didn't act swiftly, the blow could sever him in an instant. Even his enhanced abilities wouldn't be enough to withstand such a vicious strike unscathed.
In that moment, everything was clear—this was not a confrontation of mere words or intentions. This was a battle, and Seraphina Sinclair was not someone who could be underestimated.
Leon's instincts kicked in just as Seraphina's blade came crashing toward him. He leapt to the side, his body a blur of motion as he narrowly avoided the devastating slash. Rex and Lance, following his lead, did the same, each of them diving to a different corner, avoiding the lethal arc of the Greatsword. Meanwhile, the rest of the Digital Legionnaires surged forward, eager to engage, their movements sharp and coordinated. But Seraphina remained fixed on Leon, her cold eyes locked onto him, their gazes like magnets pulling them together as they both floated into the air.
Leon's eyes scanned the surroundings, observing the destruction her attack had wrought. The club, once a lively hub, was now a shattered ruin, torn apart as though it were little more than delicate paper caught in a shredder's teeth. The walls crumbled and twisted, the very foundation of the building warping under the sheer force of her strike. It was as though time itself had been compressed into that moment, the destruction unfolding too quickly for his senses to fully process. The sheer raw power of her combat style was overwhelming, and Leon couldn't help but marvel at the destructive capabilities of her technique.
He had studied countless martial arts growing up—his body was a well-honed instrument in the arts of war. He was intimately familiar with the Adamantium style, a martial art that focused on body techniques, not weapon techniques. And yet, here she was—Seraphina Sinclair, a woman who had taken the core of that art and melded it seamlessly with weapon techniques, modifying the art to incorporate weapon strikes without losing its foundation in hand-to-hand combat. There was no doubt in Leon's mind now: Seraphina was a genius in combat, someone who had elevated herself far beyond the traditional limits of martial arts.
"Looks like you're not giving me much of a choice," Leon said, his voice steady, yet carrying the weight of the battle about to unfold.
He reached into his dimensional band, the sleek metallic bracelet on his wrist pulsing with power. A flash of light illuminated the area as Solus, his trusted broadsword, materialized from the storage device. He pulled it from its scabbard, letting the gleaming weapon hum with energy as he held it in a defensive stance, the blade shining with radiant potential.
"You never had one to begin with," Seraphina replied, her voice cold, unwavering.
With a sudden surge of movement, she swung her Greatsword down in an arc that could have cleaved him in two. But Leon was ready. He struck with precision, using his own blade to parry the mighty blow. The moment their swords met, the air around them seemed to ripple with energy. The space between the two blades distorted, bending and warping as if the very fabric of reality itself was stretching and contracting. The two swords couldn't touch, the distortion preventing them from even making contact. The force of their blows, despite the obvious power in each, was repelled by the space in between, as if reality itself was rejecting the violent clash.
Leon's brow furrowed in surprise, his mind quickly trying to process what had just occurred. He had assumed, based on Seraphina's apparent physical prowess and the overwhelming strength of her Adamantium style, that she would have the upper hand in terms of raw power. That was why he had opted to use his advanced mana application, Will Force Infusion. Will Force was an esoteric technique that utilized mental energy beyond the confines of one's mental space, infusing it into other forces—like mana—thus strengthening and altering the physical world. It was a crucial component in mastering Tier six spells, and to use it effectively required someone to be in the Saint realm.
But Leon had attained Will Force Infusion long before reaching that threshold. His ascension to a Demigod and Sage Realm expert had allowed him to tap into a more refined, potent form of Will Force. His King's Authority ability factor granted him a unique variant of this power, known as King Will Force—a far more potent and versatile form of mental energy that could, if applied correctly, alter the very fabric of reality itself.
With King Will Force, Leon had reinforced his strike, intending to overpower Seraphina's blow. But to his shock, the two forces collided with such equal intensity that space itself recoiled, unable to contain their sheer might. The clash of their King Will Force had created an instantaneous distortion, a rift between the blades before they could even make contact. The result was a powerful repulsive force, violently pushing both of them back.
Leon's eyes widened as he was pushed away from Seraphina, his footing unsteady for a moment as he reestablished his stance. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just transpired. This woman—this force of nature—was not just a match for him in sheer strength, but she, too, possessed the same advanced application of mental energy. She could wield King Will Force, just as he could. The realization settled in him like a stone sinking to the bottom of a deep, cold lake.
The space around them shimmered, still disturbed by the aftermath of their collision. Both of them hovered in the air, poised to continue, the tension between them palpable. Their battle had just begun, and Leon knew, deep down, that this wasn't going to be a fight he could take lightly.
Just as Seraphina's Greatsword clashed with Leon's broadsword, the strain proved too much for the weapon to bear. With a sharp, violent crack, the massive blade shattered into pieces, the once-unyielding steel now nothing more than fragments scattered across the air. The force of the blow sent ripples through the very fabric of reality, and Leon could feel the shift, the abrupt change in the atmosphere. Seraphina, however, didn't seem bothered by the loss of her weapon. Her eyes remained focused, her gaze unwavering as she activated one of her ability factors.
[Inventory Domain - Ring of Forgery]
In an instant, four green rings of glowing energy materialized, floating in a vertical line just beside her left hand. The rings pulsed with a quiet power, their edges shimmering as they hummed with latent energy. Within the rings, Leon saw a hidden space, a dimensional rift of sorts, where countless powerful weapons were neatly arranged. The sheer magnitude of what he saw sent a chill through his spine—each weapon radiated a potent, dangerous aura, a presence so overwhelming that it made the hairs on Leon's neck stand on end. There were weapons within this hidden space that could shatter mountains and carve through the very heavens, yet Seraphina reached into this vault with the ease of someone picking a fruit from a tree.
From one of the rings, she pulled out a weapon that struck Leon like a thunderbolt. It was Solus—his Solus—the very sword he had wielded for so long, now manifesting in her hand. The sword was an exact replica, the crystal-clear blade gleaming with a purity that was almost ethereal. The golden circular guard and hilt, inlaid with an array of brilliant gems, shone like the sun itself. The sight of his own weapon, now in the hands of this stranger, this look-alike, sent a shock through Leon's core. For a moment, his breath caught in his throat, and a sense of disbelief washed over him. He stared at the sword, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was witnessing. How? How could she have replicated Solus?
The green rings dissolved into the air, vanishing as if they had never existed, and Seraphina flashed a cold smile—one so chilling, so devoid of warmth, that it felt as though ice had been poured down Leon's spine. He could feel the weight of her gaze, the silent threat that lingered between them.
"Now you're just trying to piss me off," Leon muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl. He gripped Solus tighter, his knuckles turning white as he raised the blade into a defensive stance.
In the blink of an eye, he surged forward, his movements fluid and precise, his blade dancing through the air with the intent to parry the sword from Seraphina's arm. But she was just as quick, her reaction seamless, her body shifting effortlessly into a stance that mirrored his own—a stance he had perfected over countless years.
Seraphina had taken his own Haravok Sword Style, one that he had developed and refined, and now she was using it against him, wielding Solus as if it were an extension of her very being. The realization hit him like a blow to the chest. Not only had she forged a perfect copy of his sword, but she had also adopted the precise technique he had crafted over a lifetime.
Leon's mind raced as his Hyperion Eyes flickered into action, processing the nuances of her every move. This was impossible. How could she have acquired such an intimate understanding of his sword style? And yet, there it was. The fluidity of her movements, the precision with which she executed each strike—it was as if the sword itself was guiding her, speaking to her in a language of battle that only the most experienced could understand.
Seraphina said nothing. She didn't need to. The knowledge embedded in Solus, the very essence of the sword's spirit, flowed into her like an unseen current. Her body responded automatically, applying the ancient techniques with startling accuracy. The sword—his sword—had become an extension of her will, and she wielded it as if it were her own.
The forged sword was the result of two of her abilities merging together. It was a fusion of War and Forge Domain, abilities she had spent years perfecting. By combining these two powers, she had created a third ability: the Ring of Forgery. This power allowed her to replicate any Intelligent Weapon, drawing out its unique abilities and skills, and then store it within her soul realm. From there, she could pull these forged weapons into existence at will, ready to wield their power as though they were her own.
But creating this forged version of Solus hadn't come without a cost. Seraphina had had to scan the soul of the weapon, deeply imprinting its essence within her own mind. Then, she crafted the sword within the hidden space of her soul realm, a process that drained a significant portion of her mana and stamina. The result had taken a toll—twenty-five percent of her energy had been consumed in the crafting process. But the power she could draw from the weapon was far more than worth the cost. She had successfully recreated Solus, and with it, the full weight of its legacy.
When their swords had clashed earlier, Seraphina had anticipated the Greatsword's fragility. She had known that the weapon would likely not withstand the force of her strike against Solus, so she had prepared the replica in advance, ensuring it was ready when the time came. And now, with the power of Solus and her Haravok Sword Style, she stood before him, poised for battle with the confidence of someone who knew they had the upper hand.
Leon stood frozen for a moment, his mind whirling with the realization of what was happening. This woman—this version of Sam—was no mere copy. She had power. And with that power, she had mastered everything he had fought for, everything he had built. The sword that had been his alone was now hers, and the legacy that had defined him was now entwined with her.
A strange sense of awe filled him, but it was quickly replaced by determination. This was no longer a mere confrontation. It was a battle for his very identity, a contest of wills that would test everything he had become. And as Seraphina advanced, her smile colder than ever, Leon knew that he had to rise to the challenge. There was no turning back.
"As much as I love this challenge, it pains me to even fight you," Leon said, his voice tinged with a strange mix of admiration and reluctance as their swords collided once again. The familiar distortion rippled through the air, but this time it was more contained—smaller, less forceful than before. Their blades repelled each other upon contact, the energy between them vibrating with tension, but the space between them didn't warp to the same extent. It was clear that they were both restraining their power, but even so, the clash of their wills created a heavy, oppressive aura around them.
Seraphina's frown deepened upon hearing his words, her eyes flickering with understanding. He's referring to Samantha Sinclair, she thought. The mention of her cousin, the resemblance that she bore to Samantha, made Leon uncomfortable, and that discomfort only served to fuel Seraphina's irritation. Her eyes narrowed, and the veins of her temper flared like wildfire. She refused to be a mere shadow of her cousin, and the way Leon seemed torn between admiration and unease only stoked the fire within her. With a fierce hiss, she launched herself at him, her strikes coming faster and more forceful than before, as she sought to overwhelm him.
"And it sickens me to look upon your face," Seraphina snapped, her voice sharp as a blade.
Leon recoiled, taken aback by her words. "What! What's wrong with my face?" he asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "Do you think I'm ugly?"
Seraphina's scowl deepened, a flash of something dark passing through her eyes. "It's too pretty," she said with a sneer, as if the beauty of his features were some kind of affront to the very nature of battle.
Leon blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief wash over him at the implication that she didn't find him unattractive. A self-satisfied grin tugged at his lips, and he stood a little taller, his chest swelling with pride. But then, as the weight of her words sank in, his smile faltered.
"Wait, what's wrong with being handsome?" Leon asked, his voice tinged with confusion as he deftly blocked a series of her strikes aimed at his chest and ribs. He couldn't quite fathom the reasoning behind her words, but there was something almost endearing in the way they played out.
Seraphina's expression darkened even further. "It lacks genuine battle scars," she muttered with disdain, her eyes narrowing as she delivered a powerful punch toward his midsection.
Leon barely had time to react as the punch landed with incredible force—so much so that the shockwave sent him hurtling through the air, crashing through several buildings. The destruction was so intense that it sent shockwaves reverberating through the street, causing buildings to collapse and streets to crumble. For a moment, everything was dust and debris, and Leon found himself skidding across the rubble, his body temporarily stunned from the impact.
The battle had moved far beyond the confines of the club. Now, it was a streetwide destruction zone. People were scattering in panic, fleeing from the chaos that was rapidly consuming the city. Drones, responding to the widespread devastation, began swarming the area, their sirens blaring as they cataloged the destruction and listed the various violations of law. Yet, amid all the destruction, Seraphina and Leon paid no mind. Their focus was on one another, the world around them nothing more than a distant echo in the face of their personal conflict.
As Leon pushed himself back onto his feet, dusting himself off, he reflected on Seraphina's comment about his "lack of battle scars." He thought back to when he was still in the Master Realm, when his vitality had been frail and his body had borne the marks of countless battles. But after his healing and ascension, those old scars had faded, leaving only smooth, unmarred skin. Now, even the most brutal of encounters left no permanent trace on him, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was somehow... invulnerable to the marks of war.
Seraphina's words hung in his mind, the reminder of the physical toll that only true combat could leave. But before he could ponder further, Seraphina's voice cut through the air, cold and venomous.
"Let me fix your face for you," she said, the words dripping with malice as she prepared to strike.
She raised her hand, and the air seemed to pulse with a new energy.
[Divine Sword - Heavenly Severing Slash]
With a quick, fluid motion, a line of darkish yellow energy surged from Solus, cutting through the air with lethal precision. The slash moved through space like a force of nature, a cutting edge of destruction, heading straight for Leon.
But Leon wasn't caught off guard. He sprang into action, his body moving with the grace and speed of a seasoned warrior. He leaped from the wreckage of the buildings he had been thrown through, drawing upon his own abilities.
[Heavenly Radiance Swordsmanship – Apocalypse Severance]
Three forms of light exploded from his blade, a dazzling combination of golden yellow, crimson red, and deep azure. The three beams of light merged into one, a collision of elemental might that surged forward to clash against Seraphina's strike. The two attacks met with a tremendous shockwave, the resulting explosion incinerating everything within a three-mile radius. The air shimmered with the force of the blast, the world around them momentarily disappearing in a cloud of smoke and ash.
When the smoke cleared, both Leon and Seraphina emerged from the dust, their bodies untouched, though both were stained with the blackened soot of the explosion. They hovered above the wreckage, eyes locked in mutual understanding, their focus unwavering. Drones continued to swarm around the area, their sirens piercing through the air, but neither Seraphina nor Leon cared.
Seraphina frowned, clearly irritated by the growing presence of drones, and with a subtle motion, she tapped a button on her gauntlet. In response, small cube-like objects shot up from her wrist, their metallic surfaces glinting in the light. The cubes emitted a red glow as they hovered in place, and before Leon could react, they began to weave a barrier around them. The energy from the cubes fused together, forming a barrier that enclosed them in a shield of crackling red light.
The world outside the barrier became distant, irrelevant. The only thing that mattered now was the battle between them—the culmination of everything that had brought them to this point.