ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Mabel's expression steeled.

With a sharp pulse of water Myst, her body flickered—a blur of movement phasing in and out of visibility as spatial distortions rippled around her like mirages. Each blink was cleaner, faster and more surgical. The time for restraint was over.

Liam adjusted immediately, javelin spinning to meet her. The instant she phased back into reality, he struck—his blade sweeping toward her ribs in a vicious arc. But Mabel vanished mid-swing, reappearing just above his shoulder, twisting in the air to drive a palm toward the nape of his neck.

He ducked, countering in the same motion. The javelin swept upward, forcing her to vanish again, the weapon slicing through a ghost of her presence.

His eyes narrowed.

'She's faster now. Her blinks aren't following a pattern anymore.'

She came again—first from above, then behind, then from his blind right. Each reappearance more sudden and refined. Her precision was cutting, and she was starting to overwhelm him. Liam blocked and dodged on reflex, each defense a beat behind her growing rhythm. Her control over spatial range was no longer just technical—it was instinctive.

Another blink—closer this time.

Mabel reappeared within a breath of him, water-coated fingers brushing along his cheekbone.

She smirked. "What's wrong, Liam? Getting tired already?"

He didn't answer.

His response was kinetic—javelin slicing upward in a brutal arc, aimed to cleave clean through her torso. But she blinked just before the strike landed, vanishing into a spiral of vapor and force.

He scanned, but he was too slow.

She was already there—low, right in front of him. A glint of metal caught the corner of his eye as her hand moved behind her back.

Shink.

In a single smooth motion, she unsheathed a long, translucent sword from her back—its edge gleaming with condensed water Myst. It shimmered like ice under starlight.

One slash.

CRACK.

The javelin shattered—splintering into black and red shards as the blade cleaved through it. Myst fragments dissolved midair as Liam stumbled back, momentarily unarmed.

But only for a heartbeat.

With a flick of his wrists, he summoned his twin daggers—humming with violent energy. Just in time. He raised them in a crossed block to catch her next strike.

As steel met steel, sparks shrieked into the air.

But it still wasn't enough.

Her blinking grew chaotic, unnatural—popping in from impossible angles. She emerged from spatial seams in the ceiling, from walls, even from beneath the floor in thin slits of warped dimension. Liam was being boxed in, maneuvered by pressure. Each dodge, each block, drove him closer to the arena's perimeter.

'She's cutting off my space. Herding me.'

He gritted his teeth. Sweat dripped down his brow.

'I asked for this. So stop flinching.'

Then—clarity.

'She's fast, but she's still using Myst. Meaning with every blink… she leaves a trail.'

He closed his eyes briefly, drew a breath. His vision shifted as he activated Shadow Sight.

The world changed.

Myst ripples bloomed across the air—wisps of warped space, remnants of her blinks glowing like ethereal snakes through the battlefield. Liam could see them now—threads connecting origin to destination, brief fractures of intent in the weave of reality.

She blinked again—this time to his left.

He didn't wait.

Two miniature suns ignited between his fingers and without hesitation, he snapped his wrist forward—firing the glowing orbs with lethal precision.

BOOM—BOOM.

The blasts hit her mid-phase.

Mabel barely managed to raise her sword as the twin eruptions struck—one crashing into her shoulder, the other slamming into her hip. The impact tore through her cloak in a cyclone of smoke and spiraling water, hurling her backward like a ragdoll.

She crashed, skidding violently across the marble floor, only stopping when she plunged her blade down, anchoring herself with a screech of steel.

Steam rose off her body. She coughed once, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You… tracked my blink?"

Liam stepped forward slowly, his stance fluid. One dagger extended, the other drawn close in a reverse grip. Both pulsed with fire magic as he activated Inferno Edge, flames licking along their curved blades.

His tone was calm, almost lazy.

"Residual Myst leaves footprints. I just learned how to read them. So right now... I know where you'll be before you do."

Mabel wiped the blood from her lip, but the shock melted into something else—a wild grin.

"Fighting a dark magic user is turning out to be way more stimulating than I expected."

She rose to full height again. Water Myst roared around her in spiraling torrents, glyphs igniting beneath her boots. But this time, the symbols weren't for blinking.

Liam's eyes narrowed. "What now?"

Mabel whispered, voice like a promise.

"Let's see how fast you are… when the battlefield doesn't follow the rules."

The air snapped.

A pulse of energy exploded outward from her glyph—reality trembled like glass under stress. Space fractured.

Liam braced as the entire training hall buckled around him. Walls bent. The floor rippled like water. Light twisted, color bled. Gravity shifted.

He landed—but everything was wrong.

The marble beneath his feet curved upward like a wave. The walls spiraled outward into looping corridors that fed into themselves. The ceiling descended in a slow liquid curtain, defying all logic. Direction no longer meant anything.

It was like falling into a kaleidoscope made of mirrors and dreams.

Reflections of himself and Mabel flickered across unnatural surfaces, their positions out of sync with reality. Even the sound of his own breathing came back twisted.

Liam's gaze sharpened. "This is… spatial warping?"

Mabel stood overhead—upside-down from his perspective—lightly resting on what should've been the ceiling. Her long hair trailed upward, suspended in waterlike motion, and the Myst at her feet curled like flowing ink.

"Welcome to my Inversion Field," she said, her voice echoing from multiple angles at once. "My domain. Let's see how well you fight… when down is a lie."

She vanished.

Liam turned instantly—just as a sword slash flew at him from his own reflection. He blocked it on instinct, the force sending him staggering back against a wall that felt like solid ground—but angled like a ramp.

Then she blinked again—appearing on the far left wall, now tilted into a slope—and rushed at him. Each step distorted the space around her, turning the battlefield into a living labyrinth.

Liam's breathing remained steady, but inside, his thoughts spun.

'She's turned the room into a prism. Gravity, position, even Myst flow—they're all distorted. I can't trust anything.'

She struck low. He dodged—clean.

But her reflection didn't.

It sliced across his thigh—just a graze, but enough to draw blood. Liam hissed, flipping backward and landing on what appeared to be a floating shard of glass suspended midair.

He glanced down—no reflection.

Then up—three of her, shifting in and out of sync.

She's weaponizing her own echoes now.

This wasn't just a battlefield anymore. It was her trap.

"This field doesn't just warp perception," Mabel's voice echoed from above and behind, overlapping in distorted stereo. "It creates phantom vectors—reflections that can strike like real blades."

Liam's jaw clenched. 'Tch. She's not even fighting at full power yet, and she's already like this?'

He needed to adapt—fast.

Dropping into a grounded stance, Liam flared his aura outward. Shadow and crimson flame spiraled from his back, converging into a ring of floating shadowflame orbs. They orbited him slowly—sensors, shields, and weapons all in one.

Then he shut his eyes.

'If this domain's anything like Lady Seraphina's… then vision's worthless here. I'll fight by Myst resonance and instinct.'

The next blink came from below.

Mabel surged upward like a torpedo, her blade aimed for the base of his spine. Liam reacted without hesitation—his left dagger dropped behind him, parrying the thrust on instinct alone. He twisted midair, launching an orb behind his shoulder. It detonated in a plume of fire, forcing her to back off.

Another blink.

This time, he felt the ripple on his right. A subtle shiver in the Myst current.

Without opening his eyes, Liam spun and fired a tiny Umbra dart—a condensed sunlet of destructive force—straight from his fingertip.

It struck Mabel's shoulder mid-phase.

Boom.

Smoke bloomed. She was knocked sideways, skidding across a floating shard of floor. Despite the impact, she laughed, the sound dancing through the fractured space.

"I'm impressed," she said, breathing hard now. "Didn't think you'd last long inside my field."

Liam's eyes opened. His daggers reignited, fire wrapping up his arms. The orbiting orbs spun faster—like a miniature storm circling him.

'I don't need sight. Just sensation.'

Then he moved—fast.

Gravity flipped mid-step, but Liam didn't falter. He ran up a wall like it was solid ground, then used the warped geometry to launch himself downward at Mabel from a ceiling that shouldn't have existed.

Their blades met again—fire and shadow slamming into water and space. Every strike echoed like thunder in the twisted realm.

He ducked low, stabbed upward, spun midair. He moved like a phantom—unbound by logic, unchained by gravity. In this broken dimension, physics had no hold on him.

And for the first time, Mabel looked rattled.

Liam struck—a molten arc slicing across the air. She blinked—but he was already there.

"Where you going?" he growled, cold eyes locking onto hers—just before his fist drove into her ribs with brutal force. The impact sent her spinning.

He followed with a kick, launching her across the warped battlefield.

Mabel caught herself midair, landing on a slanted platform with her blade raised. Blood traced the corner of her lip.

And yet, her expression was wild with exhilaration.

"Okay, Liam…" she said, voice breathless.

She raised her sword, water Myst erupting behind her in a cyclone that stretched endlessly upward.

"…I might just be getting into you."

The mirror-dimension trembled under the weight of her power.

Liam didn't flinch. His face stayed flat—but the faintest smirk curled his lips.

"Disgusting," he muttered, spinning his daggers in a blaze of fire. "But whatever."