Zane grunted, wiping dust off his face and soul at the same time. The red-flame figure hovered in front of him, aura still flaring like it hadn’t heard of personal space.
Nyx floated to the side. "You know... maybe try not getting hit for once?"
Zane groaned. "I tried talking. Apparently that’s illegal here."
Suddenly—his body tensed. Shadows rippled along his spine.
> "Enough of this nonsense," Link’s voice echoed coldly.
Zane’s eyes snapped red, flickering like glowing embers under the shadow of war.
The red figure’s pupils narrowed. "That presence..."
Another punch. This time, a left hook that turned Zane into a horizontal projectile. He skipped across the ground like a cursed pebble over lava.
A distant crash. A cloud of dust.
From the crater, Zane’s hand flopped up weakly.
Link’s voice, inside his own head:
> "Nope. Not doing that again. He hits like a divine freight train with anger issues."
Zane groaned from the ground, coughing violently. "Thanks for the backup..."
Link scoffed. "You’re on your own, shadow-boy."
Zane dragged himself up and dusted off like he hadn’t just been demolished twice in one conversation.
He raised a hand hastily. "Wait, wait, WAIT. Before you turn me into a crater again... what’s your name? At least let me log who’s trying to commit murder."
The red figure blinked once. That hesitation? It was all Zane needed.
Twin void-forged blades materialized in his hands with a whisper of shadow. Purple runes pulsed across their surfaces as the air around him twisted slightly.
Zane smirked through the pain, blades humming with power.
> "Because if you can’t beat them... you try your damned best to kill them."
His shadow twisted beneath him. Nyx and Link both floated to the edge of the conflict zone, mutually agreeing to not be part of what was about to unfold.
Link, munching on some illusionary popcorn, muttered, "This should be good."