"Hmm… someone's here," Vastoth intoned, his voice carrying an air of inevitability. He had always known this place would be discovered; it was only a matter of time.
Rising from his seated position, he strolled to the edge of the mountain peak. His gaze swept downward, and he caught sight of Vyrinox struggling at the mountain's base.
Vyrinox was in bad shape, his movements hindered by the loss of one hand.
Just recalling how he had lost it made his blood boil. He had been cautious, yet it hadn't mattered—the small shard of fragmented space he had mistakenly touched sliced through his hand with such precision that he still dreaded the memory of it happening.
What worsened the situation for him was the slow pace of his regeneration, a rare and frustrating occurrence for someone of his power.
Wounds inflicted by natural law phenomena were vastly different from those caused by opponents with mastery over the laws.
Space law, in particular, was far beyond Vyrinox's expertise, making the injury all the more severe. His slow regeneration diminished his overall performance, an unacceptable setback for someone as prideful as him.
He specialized in deception laws, a domain vastly different from the rigid, cutting precision of space laws. Deceptionlaws governed illusions, manipulation of perception, and subtle distortions of reality.
They allowed him to twist truth into lies and lies into truth, warping both physical reality and the minds of others.
His strength lay in deception and control, but here, against the natural space phenomena, he was painfully out of his element.
Vastoth watched Vyrinox's futile struggle for several minutes, a faint smirk playing on his lips. With a final glance at the straining figure, he turned back to the monolith. "Let's see how far he gets," he murmured before resuming his seat.
"This cursed place… Why is it always space?" Vyrinox muttered, glaring at the shards floating in the air. Each shard reflected broken images of his injured body, the stump of his missing arm mocking him.
Knowing he couldn't move forward in his current state, he used one of his innate abilities, "EchoedPresence." With a quiet whisper and a simple motion of his hand, an illusionary copy of himself appeared beside him.
The clone resembled him exactly, even sharing his missing arm and battle scars. It stood still for a moment before Vyrinox commanded, "Go."
Without hesitation, the clone marched straight into the danger ahead. Meanwhile, Vyrinox staggered back to safer ground, collapsing to his knees as he began the agonizing process of regeneration. The Space-shard wounds resisted healing - his new arm formed grain by painful grain.
Every muscle trembled as he wrenched energy from the surroundings, jaw locked against the torment. Frustration burned through him, but he'd be damned if he let this stop him.
The clone carefully moved forward, taking its time to study every danger in its path. Space shards floated like broken mirrors, sharp and deadly, ready to cut through anything. Space storms spun chaotically, creating flashes of light and pulling the air into strange ripples. Every obstacle seemed alive, as if guarding the peak of the mountain.
The clone paused often, examining the movement of the space shards and storms. At one point, it crouched low, waiting for a storm to calm.
When the storm briefly weakened, it quickly slipped through, narrowly avoiding being caught in a vortex. Step by step, it made its way up, always moving cautiously.
Far below, Vyrinox sat cross-legged, his face calm but focused. His arm, which had been sliced off, was slowly regenerating.
He kept his connection to the clone active, using it to track its progress. "Almostthere," he muttered, feeling both relief and frustration.
Losing his arm had been humiliating, and he was determined to make it to the top himself once he fully recovered.
At the peak of the mountain, Vastoth stood silently, his hand hovering just inches from the monolith. The air around him was strangely quiet, as though even space itself had stilled in the presence of the monolith.
His eyes were locked on the glowing surface of the monolith, and his breathing slowed as he focused entirely on the moment.
"Thefinalstep," he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with tension. He could feel the power of the monolith testing him, pressing against his mastery of space laws.
The clone finally arrived near the top of the mountain after what felt like an endless journey. It stopped just before the monolith's stillzone, where the chaotic space phenomena suddenly vanished. Then the clone cautiously stepped into the still zone.
The silence was unnerving, making every step feel weighty. Vyrinox, observing through the clone, grinned slightly as he said. "It's within reach."
As he turned his head slightly, Vastoth noticed the clone's arrival and sneered. "So, you made it this far," he said, his tone confident yet tinged with amusement.
The clone hesitated for a moment, its body flickered, showing its illusionary nature. Vyrinox, now fully healed, stood up. His arm whole again, and his sharp eyes gleamed with determination. "It's time to claim what's mine," he said, his voice low and steady.
Vastoth stood up, his eyes fixed on the clone moving toward the monolith. Mistaking it for Vyrinox, he spoke with an arrogant tone, "Vyrinox, this place is my domain, and you are trespassing."
The clone paused, its gaze sharp. "And so what? Only the strong deserve this blessed land. Let's see if you can back up your claims." Vyrinox retorted back.
Vyrinox wasn't surprised by Vastoth's appearance. If he the living incarnation of deception could detect spatial disturbances from leagues away, how could the literal Embodiment of Space not notice?
Vastoth ignored the challenge at first, but the words "blessedland" caught his attention. His brow furrowed, and he asked with genuine confusion, "Blessed land? What is that?"
The clone tilted its head, its expression that of doubt. "You don't know?" it said, looking at Vastoth like he had been living under a rock. "It doesn't matter. You'll figure it out after I take this land for myself."
Vastoth frowned, he scanned his surroundings. Something felt off. As he extended his senses, his gaze shifted downward to the base of the mountain.
There, in clear view, stood the real Vyrinox, fully healed and very much not the figure in front of him and the one who was struggling.
Realization dawned on Vastoth. "A clone…" he muttered under his breath. He glanced back at the clone before him, his mind racing. "But how does he plan to reach the top again? Will he go through all the space phenomena a second time?" he wondered.
Before he could ponder further, Vyrinox's voice echoed from the clone. "Shift."
In an instant, a wave of distorted energy rippled through the air. Vastoth's surroundings seemed to twist momentarily, and when the distortion settled, the positions of the clone and Vyrinox had swapped.
The clone now stood at the base of the mountain, as it slowly healed its wounds. Vyrinox now faced Vastoth directly.
Vyrinox barely acknowledged Vastoth and he began walking toward the monolith, his movements deliberate and filled with purpose.
His disinterest in Vastoth was clear, as if the monolith was the only thing that mattered.
Vastoth crossed his arms, stepping aside to let him pass. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he thought, "Let's see how you embarrass yourself this time."
Vyrinox observed Vastoth's reaction closely, a gnawing sense of unease creeping into his mind. Something wasn't right. Vastoth's calm demeanor and the faint ridicule in his eyes unsettled him.
Still, when Vyrinox's gaze returned to the monolith, his caution dissolved, replaced by greed. The temptation of the monolith, so close yet unattainable, consumed his logic.
Without hesitation, he began moving toward it, each step filled with resolve.
Several minutes passed, yet he hadn't made any progress. The realization struck him like a blow: no matter how much he moved forward, he remained in the same spot, as though the space itself defied his efforts.
He paused, frustration growing within him. Glancing to his left, he saw Vastoth standing calmly, his eyes filled with thinly veiled ridicule and disdain.
The sight sent a jolt of something unfamiliar through Vyrinox, shame. For the first time in his existence, he felt humiliation creeping into his heart.
Vastoth let out a faint chuckle, shaking his head. To him, Vyrinox wasn't even worth considered a threat. "He doesn't even understand the stretching of space," Vastoth muttered under his breath.
Ignoring Vyrinox, Vastoth turned his attention back to the monolith. He moved forward effortlessly, each step precise and measured. The air around him seemed to bend subtly, as if acknowledging his mastery over the space laws.
Standing in front of the monolith, Vastoth exhaled slowly. A glimmer of determination flashed in his eyes. "Just a little more," he thought. The comprehension of the monolith was nearly complete. Soon, he would claim ownership of this blessed land, a prize worthy of his ambition.
Vyrinox left behind was seething with frustration, he clenched his fists. His pride wouldn't allow him to give up, but the gap between him and Vastoth had never felt so insurmountable.
For now, all he could do was watch. Vastoth seeing the expression on Vyrinox face completely let his guard down and returned to his comprehension.