Compared to Rin and the two maids with him, Thrúiowre was a hill;
Rin was barely the height of their knee, and Thrúiowre was quite gigantic; wearing thick dark armor that shifted like living space and shadows, and their helt protruding those two horn-like shapes at the sides, Thrúiowre almost give the impression to be worse than a devil.
The armor plates did not clank or grind; instead, they flowed, with subtle waves of darkness mushrooming across its surface as though the void itself had been poured into shape and hardened. And it may as well had been.
Each subtle shift seed to send faint gravitational whirlpools outward, tugging at loose strands of Rin’s hair and making the maids’ skirts flutter minutely before settling again.
"Ara? It sounds like you clearly just missed ," Rin laughed, then sharply locked his blue eyes on them, "let’s fight, Thrúiowre."
Rin’s laugh was bright and palpably reckless, cutting through the oppressive silence like a thrown stone into still water.
His sharp, bright blue eyes t the starry red glow of Thrúiowre without panicking. There was no fear there, only anticipation, the sa gleam a gambler gets before rolling the dice with loaded odds.
"But... with every battle we start," Thrúiowre spoke, their voice deep and shuddering. "you always flee halfway."
The words didn’t seem to carry anger or resentnt, only statent of fact. Each syllable of his vibrated the area, making it appear as though the distant stars were flickering in response to Thrúiowre.
The two maids only stood back with closed eyes and passive expressions.
Well, it was only natural. Unlike their Master, they knew Thrúiowre was not sothing they could casually engage with. Even if it was only speaking to them.
Inferna’s tail remained perfectly still, and Munganda’s hands rested lightly at her sides, her fingers relaxed. To step forward, or even glance at the Void Keeper, would be to invite the Titan’s attention in a way that even Rin avoided pushing too far.
At the mont, Thrúiowre was like God in his sphere of supre influence... And all of them knew it: Thrúiowre had a thing against intruders, and more so, against intruders who assist Kiyoshi Rin.
"Of course I run away!" Rin waved one hand dismissively, the gesture seeming casual despite the stakes. "You’re crazy strong. And my Lewd ter gets to run down before I know it."
"Lewd ter?"
The helt tilted the smallest fraction. The starry red glow expounded once before returning, almost curious, or perhaps faintly wanting more explanation.
"Nah, just forget it. Let’s throw hands already!"
Rin’s hair began to change and turn crimson in the roots and the ends, leaving the deep blue hair in the middle like a stripe of preserved night amid fla.
The modification was smooth, even almost liquid; strands lifted as though charged with static. A low crimson aura blood around him, pushing back against the void’s pull, making the darkness around his body look thinner, and less absolute.
The portal had closed, so now Rin was emitting his own light from his form.
His left eye turned a crimson color with a triangular sigil erging in it. The sigil began to rotate, little by little, with lines glowing sharper and precise.
It was not re decoration; it was like a key turning in a lock, a limiter sliding open. Rin’s grin widened, with his teeth flashed, and his expression turning nearly feral.
And without a word more, Rin dashed like flashed light to Thrúiowre.
The movent was instantaneous to any eye that tried to track it; one heartbeat he stood still, the next he was a streak of crimson and blue slicing across the space of nothing.
The area rippled in his wake, folding around his passage like cloth pulled tight.
The maids did not move or assist in any way. They simply remained exactly where they were, with eyes closed, as though the entire confrontation were happening in another room.
"So be it. I shall discipline you yet again!" With a thunderous clash, Thrúiowre swung down the incredibly ornate and large sword.
The blade was ancient beyond naming—may as well be a part of Thrúiowre—its edge etched with moving patterns, the hilt was wrapped in bands of things that resembled captured nebula.
It descended with the weight of inevitability, carving a perfect arc through the void. The swing displaced darkness in slow rolling waves that bent the subtle light, and made the distant star flash.
Rin imdiately materialized a golden short sword and blocked the massive blade incoming. The weapon appeared between one blink and the next—Nearly like purely condensed light given form, its hilt warm and steady in his grip.
CLASH!
He t the descending blade head-on, with his feet planted on nothing, and his body coiling, his knees bent to absorb the force.
But the mont their swords had collided, the atmosphere began to crack and tear.
Golden sparks flowed in slow motions down the length of their contact, mingling with starry black fragnts that peeled away from Thrúiowre’s blade.
Then the void itself shuddered; cracks spider webbed outward from the point of impact; jagged fractures of reality leaking faint, colorless light. Nearby stars dimd as though irritated from the noise that wasn’t quite sound.
Thrúiowre added more force with a deep grunt, leaning into the press. The armor plates across their arms flexed with a low resonant hum, like an engine older than planets shifting gears.
Then the space below them crumbled and shattered.
Massive chunks of imaginary space broke free beneath their feet, tumbling upward in slow dreamlike suspension before dissolving into pinpricks of nothing.
The unreal platform that had held them now simply ceased to be.
Rin’s sneakers lost foothold from the accident; and he plumted down the broken space below him with his maids.
***
Thrúiowre added more force with a deep grunt, then the space below them crumbled and shattered, the void giving way completely.
It was no slow descent, nor was it a dramatic fall; but it was sudden, like a rciless absence of foothold. Gravity—or whatever cruel imitation of it was there—seized Rin and his opponent, then yanked them downward.
The maids fell too, their skirts fluttering upward in the rushing wind that howled through the new dinsion.
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