In another corner of a realm, far removed from the mirror-bound nightmare that Hopeless had endured, a different battle unfolded. The dimension was twisted and chaotic, with streaks of red lightning tearing across a starless sky. The land below was jagged, blackened, almost volcanic in its harshness. Wind screamed through the hollowed-out canyons of stone, carrying ash and the scent of fire and blood.
Massa stood on a crumbling spire of obsidian rock, her robe torn and fluttering, soaked in sweat and streaks of blood. Her breathing was labored, each inhale sounding like it grated against her ribs. One of her arms hung limp, burned and bleeding from the last encounter. Yet her eyes still burned bright green, sharp with focus, refusing to dull. Across from her, circling high in the air, was the Veil creature she'd been locked in combat with—twisted, elegant, and terrible.
It looked like a bird only in outline: wings outstretched far wider than an eagle's, feathers sharp and metallic, each one whispering as it cut through the wind. Its body twisted mid-flight in ways that defied nature, sinews creaking, its long neck bending at impossible angles. Its eyes were pits of glowing violet, and its beak—razor-edged and obsidian black—was stained with Massa's blood.
It dived again with blinding speed.
Massa barely had time to raise her remaining hand. She muttered an incantation under her breath, too weak for flourish, and a spiral of flame erupted from her palm. The fire burst upward in a brilliant arc, catching the beast mid-flight. The creature shrieked, a sound so piercing the very stones trembled beneath them. It twisted away midair, smoke trailing from one scorched wing. But it wasn't finished. Neither was she.
Massa dropped to one knee, clutching her ribs. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth. Her magic reserves were nearly drained, and her body… it was betraying her. Her youthful vigor was fading. Her hand shook not from fear—but age.
She exhaled shakily. "Looks like I'll have to pull my last card…"
Then she reached into her soul sea.
A white glow pulsed around her fingers. And then—she summoned it.
A chessboard.
It unfolded like light and shadow converging into form. The entire landscape changed. What had once been rock and sky was now a vast, endless chessboard. White and black squares stretched out into a surreal horizon. Every motion echoed like a piece being moved by an unseen hand. Even the Veil creature was no longer in the sky—it had been reduced to a piece. A bishop, flickering between positions, restrained by invisible rules it didn't understand.
The world around her bent to strategy. Her dimension—her domain.
Massa, now standing tall in the center of the board, eyes glowing with arcane logic, lifted her hand like a conductor commanding an orchestra.
And then something strange occurred. From above, as if watching from another plane, a phantom image of Nefer's hand appeared, her fingers stretched outward as if she were the one moving the pieces.
Massa smiled softly.
"The battlefield is mine… but Nefer is the one who holds the game."
Every motion, every piece, shifted with Nefer's unseen guidance. The bird-creature flapped helplessly, each beat of its wings now restrained to the diagonals of its designated tile. It tried to charge forward, but its move was redirected. It tried to flee—blocked by pawns rising from the squares like shadows wearing armor. Its mind screamed, trying to comprehend why its freedom was suddenly caged.
And all the while… Massa aged.
Her vibrant green hair slowly dulled, fading to silver strands. Wrinkles formed under her eyes, her skin losing its tightness. Her back hunched slightly. Her body was paying the price for wielding such reality-bending magic. The cost was time—her time.
She moved her queen.
The board echoed with an ominous chime.
Then she whispered, "Checkmate."
Instantly, the tiles beneath the bird-creature lit up. A crack of golden light burst from beneath its feet, and chains of black-and-white energy surged up, anchoring it in place. It shrieked again—a final, desperate wail—as its wings crumbled like paper in fire.
It fell.
A jagged thud shook the board as the monster slammed into the tiles, its body twitching, spasming. Not yet dead. But close. The battlefield faded, the chessboard dissolving into flickers of light, revealing the scorched land once more. The monster now lay in a crater, its once-glorious wings shattered. Its bones groaned as it tried to lift its head.
Massa approached slowly, her footsteps soft against the ash. Her body shook, her legs stiff and weak, but her expression was calm. Her hair was almost entirely gray now. Her face weathered like old parchment.
"You fought well," she murmured, kneeling beside the creature.
She rested her hand gently on its decaying chest. A pulse of energy passed between them. The creature gave one last croak—a guttural, wheezing sigh.
Then, its body began to wither rapidly.
Then, its body began to wither rapidly.
Its feathers blackened and fell away. Its eyes turned to hollow voids. Flesh peeled and dried, bone turning brittle and gray. In moments, all that was left was a pile of skeletal remains and scorched tissue.
As it decayed, Massa's body began to heal.
Her fingers regained color. Her face began to tighten, lifting away the tired wrinkles. The grey drained from her hair strand by strand until it shimmered green once again. The years that had been drained returned to her like water to parched soil.
She exhaled—slow and steady—as her magic stabilized within her again. Her power was returning.
Then the dimension cracked.
The world shattered like a mirror under pressure. The air folded in on itself and, with a blinding pulse, everything vanished.
When Massa opened her eyes, she was standing in the stone chamber again—the same place where she had been taken from. The echo of the slab's magic still lingered faintly.
And standing there, a few feet away, was Hope.
His cloak were torn, dried blood clinging to his skin, his armor, visible with cracks on it .but he stood—alive.
Massa's face broke into a weary but genuine smile. "You survived too."
Hope turned his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes looked different—wilder, maybe, but clear.
"Yeah," he said. "I did."
They exchanged no further words. There was nothing else to say yet.
They both turned toward the slab.