บท 8: Round 2: Shattered Reflections
The battlefield shifted from the swirling maelstrom of the Nexus to a warped echo of the palace courtyard. Cobblestones morphed into shimmering ice, the familiar sun replaced by a mocking grin plastered across the sky. Across the distorted expanse, Jikirukuto's doppelganger materialized, his eyes burning with borrowed malice. Time Weaver, cloaked in shadows deeper than any abyss, hovered between them, a malevolent puppeteer relishing the dance of his marionettes.
Jikirukuto knew brute force wouldn't suffice. Time Weaver, a twisted echo of his own mind, anticipated his every move, mirrored his tactics with uncanny precision. Every clash of steel rang hollow, a choreographed waltz in a cage of fate.
Desperate, Jikirukuto abandoned the familiar. He feinted left, only to spin and unleash a kick aimed at Time Weaver's exposed flank. The Weaver, however, vanished into a wisp of smoke, reappearing behind Jikirukuto and whispering a dark truth in his ear: "Your thoughts, warrior, are an open book to me."
The realization struck Jikirukuto like a physical blow. Every flicker of strategy, every desperate hope, lay bare to his enemy. Panic threatened to consume him, but a sliver of defiance gleamed within. If his mind was weaponized against him, he would turn it into a shield.
With a feigned sigh of defeat, he allowed his eyes to dull, his shoulders to slump. The clone, mistaking his despair for surrender, surged forward, a triumphant bellow ripping from his throat. But as the blade arced down, Jikirukuto, in a lightning-fast move, sidestepped and slammed his elbow into the clone's knee with brutal force.
The echoing scream was music to Jikirukuto's ears. He'd baited the clone, used his own despair as a smokescreen to blind his mirror image. Time Weaver, for the first time, flickered with surprise, the smirk on his lips faltering for a fleeting moment.
Jikirukuto seized the opportunity. He channeled the Unparalleled Strength, not in a devastating blow, but in a calculated surge that propelled him past the clone and towards Time Weaver. The Weaver, caught off guard, stumbled back, a flicker of fear momentarily extinguishing his eyes.
For a heartbeat, the fabric of reality seemed to stretch thin, the future hanging in the balance. Jikirukuto, adrenaline coursing through his veins, lunged towards the Weaver, his blade poised to strike.
But before he could land the final blow, a deafening roar tore through the distorted world. The sky cracked open, revealing a swirling vortex, a monstrous maw threatening to devour everything in its path. Time Weaver, a wicked grin twisting his lips, pointed a gnarled finger at the vortex.
"This, Jikirukuto," he cackled, his voice tinged with unholy glee, "is the true consequence of your meddling. The fabric of time, unraveling at its seams. And you, puppet, will be the first to be consumed!"
The ground beneath Jikirukuto dissolved, plunging him towards the gaping maw. The air screamed, ripping at his lungs, drowning out his cry of defiance. Was this the end? Had Time Weaver finally sealed his victory?
Cliffhanger: Will Jikirukuto escape the devouring vortex, or will he be swallowed whole, doomed to watch as the timeline unravels around him?
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