The Free Abyss – Sector 6: The Reflection Scar]
A world suspended upside-down in paradox. Sky mirrors sea, gravity dances in spirals, and emotions echo louder than thoughts. The neon fog pulses: yellow-green for Devia, red-purple for Corruption Force.
The Devia candidates stand at the edge of the floating Spiral Platform, their auras subtly flickering—alive, responsive. Klexis' hammers twitch in his grip. Jairak adjusts his cloak of Pain Clarity. Jason exhales controlled fire. Eve Maid hums softly. Banjo is upside down—for no reason. And Eugene has already sprinted halfway through 6 realities.
Across from them, the Corruption Force Candidates emerge through folds in space like they're peeling in from another existence.
🌌 The Two Factions Face Off 🌌
> Manu (gruff, commanding):
"Devia isn't real unless it's tested.
And who better to test it than those who never wanted clarity in the first place?"
> Kari (smirking, arms folded):
"The Corruption Force doesn't ask 'why'. It asks 'why not?'… That's what you're up against."
The corrupted candidates begin to step forward…
---
Viro floats forward lazily, his body humming with Hersay Affinity—an Affinity that adapts to group belief.
> Viro (mocking):
"Avia said 'be real.' Devia says 'be reasoned.' But me? I just agree with whoever's winning."
---
Joe and Xubbie appear, giggling. Xubbie, the ghoul, shifts between shadow-dog and balloon-headed beast.
> Joe (grinning):
"Let's play a game! Xubbie says… eat their sanity!"
> Xubbie (childlike whisper):
"Can I have your reality? Please? Just the boring parts…"
---
Elese, covered in vines and jaguar spirits, now corrupted into shadow creatures.
> Elese (calm):
"Nature doesn't care who wins. But I do. And my spirits are hungry."
---
Raq, wrapped in desert war cloths, eyes burning with trauma. Behind him: a sandstorm forming a bestial tank-like creature made of tanks, bullets, and anguish.
> Raq (stoic):
"I didn't escape the war. I became it."
---
Jen Jen, muscular, fox-tiger hybrid, cracked with red veins of corruption.
> Jen Jen (growling):
"Devia smells like self-control. I hate that smell."
---
Yana, walking like she owns the stars, whip glowing with shifting desires. Her mere presence causes flickers of distraction.
> Yana (to Eve Maid):
"Oh sweetie… you sedate. I stimulate. We're not the same."
---
Karan, wielding broken light constructs, half melting and reforming. A corrupted architect of hope.
> Karan (flatly):
"Light doesn't purify anymore. It distorts. You'll see."
---
> Klexis (tightening grip on hammers):
"Alright, Devia… show me what you're made of."
> Jairak (eyes glowing):
"They've got power. We've got response. Let's see which breathes better."
> Eugene (activating reality sprint):
"Prediction models locked. 89% probability we're about to break something meaningful."
> Banjo (smiling upside down):
"Rules? Already rewrote them. They're using outdated patch notes."
> Jason (flames burning with focus):
"Let's burn their relevance."
> Androsha (voice like fog):
"I'll cloud their truths until they can't even remember who they were lying to."
> Eve Maid (smiling coldly):
"Sedation isn't weakness. It's the silence before your storm."
---
> Manu (nodding solemnly):
"Remember: Devia adapts… but only if you do.
You don't wield Devia. You become it.
Let the test begin."
---
The ground fractures into floating shards. Battle commences—not of fists first, but of logic, identity, temptation, and clarity. Devia flickers, responds, adjusts—its green-yellow aura shimmering like code rewriting itself in response to Corruption's chaos.
> Traxis (watching from above, softly):
"Now let's see...
which truth will evolve…
and which truth will crack."
Free Abyss – Battlefield of Inversion]
The space twists in impossible angles, like a warping chessboard where logic falters and paradox reigns. Neon auras clash—green-yellow Devia versus red-purple Corruption Force.
---
⚔️ KLEXIS VS RAQ – BEGINNING OF BRUTALITY ⚔️
The arena twists underfoot—floating scrap-metal memories and fractured principles drift in midair.
Klexis stands tall, twin hammers thrumming with restrained potential.
Raq, eyes glowing like burning oil, rides atop a beast made of shredded tanks, guns fused with bones, and blood-soaked flags.
> Raq (voice thunderous):
"Your weapon is conviction?
I am war.
I am the moment when peace dies screaming."
Klexis clenches his jaw. He feels the pressure, not just physical—existential.
Devia floods his system like a tuning fork, but… it hums oddly. There's friction inside him, like his soul is dragging its feet.
> Klexis (to himself):
"Why does it feel... off?
This power, it's supposed to resonate, not question me…"
A rumble.
Raq smirks.
> Raq:
"You hesitate.
That's all the permission I need."
Suddenly, four war beasts emerge—gargantuan hulks shaped by Raq's trauma:
The Screaming City – a beast of demolished buildings.
The Desert Serpent – a sandstorm given spine.
The Bomb Choir – floating drones chanting ancient cries.
The Widowmaker Titan – a living siege engine with the face of a crying child.
They converge.
Klexis nearly buckles. Devia flares in resistance, adjusting, recalibrating, demanding clarity.
> Klexis (yelling):
"ENOUGH!!"
He leaps back, spins midair, and slams both hammers together.
⚡️ IMPACT NOVA ⚡️
A ripple explodes outward—an implosion wrapped in explosion, like the sound of regret weaponized.
The shockwave obliterates the Bomb Choir and staggers the Desert Serpent.
> Klexis (breathing hard):
"Devia... respond to me… not to my doubts.
I know something's off—but I won't let it stop me."
> Raq (grinning, rising from dust):
"Good.
The worst wars start with good intentions."
He fuses with the Screaming City—his eyes now skyscraper windows, his arms pipelines of firepower.
The battlefield begins to warp into a war-torn metropolis—Raq's domain.
Klexis cracks his neck, eyes narrowing. Devia swirls around him like a storm reconsidering its direction.
> Klexis (voice low):
"You built this from your pain.
Now feel mine."
The sky is red-black now, screaming with every war memory Raq ever suffered. Ashes fall like petals of the forgotten. A beast made of tanks snarls in the background. But Klexis stands — steady, steam rising from his skin, his hammers glowing like stars compressed into weapons of clarity.
---
Raq screams — not in pain, but in ecstasy.
War is his language. Pain is punctuation.
> Raq (laughing psychotically):
"You think impact manipulation can stop me?
I was forged in the collapse of nations!"
He raises his hands, and from above —
TWO WARBOMBS shaped like fallen generals descend, multi-planetary nukes of raw devastation, made of melted borders and rage.
But Klexis? He scoffs.
And steps forward.
The Devia system breathes with him.
The ground beneath pulses.
He swings both hammers, and with a fluid pivot…
> Klexis (calm, with edge):
"Impact isn't just about strength.
It's about choice."
⚡️IMPACT REVERSAL: SHOCKECHO⚡️
The rockets freeze midair, crumple into tiny spheres — and then zip backward, rewriting their velocity.
Klexis imbues the reversal with Devia — adjusting force direction, intensity, and emotional charge.
The bombs slam into Raq's own warbeasts — The Screaming City crumbles, and the Widowmaker Titan detonates into grief-laced dust.
Raq's laughter cuts short.
> Raq (wide-eyed):
"What… did you do…?"
> Klexis (stepping closer):
"You throw bombs like a soldier...
I fight like a concept."
The arena stutters — even Devia hesitates, as if impressed.
Raq kneels, coughing smoke and fury.
But then…
He smirks.
> Raq:
"Good hit.
But you're still doubting Devia...
That means you'll never master it."
Klexis clenches his hammers tighter.
He's bleeding…not from wounds, but conflict.
Because Raq's right.
Somewhere deep down…
He still believes in Avia.
But right now — he fights with Devia.
And that contradiction?
That's the next war he'll have to win.
Klexis won by Capitalizing on his belief
BATTLE OF MADNESS & MAYHEM 🎴
The world has shifted — not exploded, not shattered — but crayoned.
The ground is now blue frosting, the clouds are googly eyes, and Banjo is currently walking on a sidewalk made of Lego bricks that somehow insult his every step.
> Joe (giggling):
"This is Toon Mode, baby!
My world, my rules, and my bestie — XUBBIE! 🎨👻✨"
Out of Joe's shadow, Xubbie emerges, looking like a child's nightmare plushie — three mouths, no eyes, wearing a kindergarten backpack that radiates paradox energy.
> Xubbie (sing-song):
"Adults use logic!
Kids use fear and doodles!
And I use everything!"
Banjo is unimpressed — his aura flickers like a glitch in narrative authority.
> Banjo (adjusting his bowler hat):
"You just turned reality into a daycare…
But you forgot one thing…
Probability is my babysitter."
He flicks his Probability Cards — each one a different rule of existence.
♠️ "If X is 0, Y must bend."
♦️ "Luck is lazy unless provoked."
♣️ "If 1+1=window, punch the window."
He SLAMS the Rule Rewrite Card into the ground.
👊 "REVERSED CHANCE ACTIVATED." 👊
The arena judders — the frosting hardens into obsidian.
Banjo, now floating midair, clocks Xubbie across the jaw with a punch fueled by narrative disobedience.
Xubbie explodes into rainbow confetti and broken dreams.
> Joe (gasps):
"NOOOO!
Xubbie! That wasn't in the storyboard!"
> Banjo (tilting his head):
"Life rarely follows the script, Joey."
But suddenly…
The sky rips.
Xubbie reforms from the very giggles of broken children.
He looks different now — more stable, more insane.
Eyes drawn in crayon, body a mix of fuzz, metal, and pure "NOPE."
> Joe (smirking):
"You thought that was it?
Nahhh, bro. You don't kill a child's friend.
You remind them why they need him."
Xubbie leaps — this time his claws stretch across logic lines.
Banjo grins.
> Banjo:
"Time to bend the rule that says you win round 2."
He flicks his "Unstable Fortune" card — the one that only activates when he's in impossible situations.
Everything pauses.
The arena is now a surreal canvas of entropy — buildings shaped like screams, trees that speak in binary, and a sky painted with forgotten childhood memories.
Joe's eyes flicker like light bulbs short-circuiting inside a toddler's cranium.
> Joe (voice shaking with excitement and rage):
"You bend rules... I make new ones.
Infinity x Infinity x Imagination to the power of Nope.
You're not facing me anymore.
You're facing my brain on sugar and trauma."
He slams his fists together.
BOOM.
A flood of everything crashes toward Banjo.
A hydra made of crayons
A meteor made of hugs that explode into sadness
Infinite elementals reciting "Let it Go" in reverse
A sun with googly eyes throwing light constructs shaped like Pikachu
Xubbie riding a flying banana screaming "TRAUMA BUDDIES ASSEMBLE!!"
Banjo stares.
> Banjo (wide-eyed):
"...This isn't rule-breaking.
This is sanity-breaking.
My man, you've weaponized childhood."
He gulps, straightens his collar, and flicks his final Unstable Fortune card.
Card: "The Opponent Must Experience Their Own Creation."
A slow wind sweeps through the arena.
Joe's infinite stack snaps backward like a sentient Jenga tower.
Suddenly—
Joe is surrounded by everything he just summoned.
They begin to turn on him.
> Reality Clone #1:
"He made me in 0.3 seconds, then abandoned me."
Construct Light Warrior:
"You gave me no backstory, bro!"
Crayon Hydra:
"My teeth are made of questions!!"
> Joe (backing up):
"Wait... WAIT... you're mine... I CREATED YOU—"
> Banjo (voice calm, eyes glowing):
"And now you'll learn what happens...
when creation has no clarity."
Xubbie, now confused, turns to Joe.
> Xubbie (sadly):
"...Do you even believe in me, Joe?"
Joe collapses. The powers implode in a whirlwind of paradox and unresolved story arcs.
Banjo walks forward, exhausted but smirking.
> Banjo:
"You stacked infinity... but forgot to shuffle meaning.
Power without point is just noise, Joe.
And I'm the conductor."
Eve maid vs Yana, Battle of Desire and Dominance...
The stage is surreal—a floating garden of temptation and tension. Roses bloom midair, time drips like honey, and each step echoes like a whisper through a lover's memory.
Yana, draped in a shimmering black-red outfit, her hair glinting like wine under moonlight, licks her lips and cracks her corruption-forged whip. Her aura pulses — Neon Crimson, dark but irresistibly radiant. The corruption force is singing through her, making her every movement feel like a command to obey.
> Yana (smirking):
"Eve Maid...
I heard you're the one who plays with hearts.
I own them.
You're infatuated with a swordsman.
I'm infatuated with control."
She lashes out — not physically, but conceptually.
Her whip doesn't just strike space. It binds the idea of resisting her.
Eve dodges — elegantly, dreamlike — spinning through the air like mist weaving around temptation.
Her Devia aura—Greenish Yellow, flowing like silk in thought—hugs her like a perfume of flexible clarity.
> Eve Maid (softly, dreamily):
"You use your whip to tie others to your will...
I use my presence to let them let go.
You control.
I… sedate."
She closes her eyes.
Devia pulses.
She touches the air.
> Eve Maid:
"Devia… help me find her rhythm...
Let me sedate… the concept of Target itself."
A sudden lull.
The battlefield ripples.
Yana's next whip swing... whiffs. Not because Eve dodged—but because there was no target to aim for. Eve sedated the concept.
Yana blinks.
> Yana (snarling):
"What did you do?! I can't feel you!"
> Eve Maid (spinning slowly, seductively):
"That's the point, darling.
You're used to being noticed.
Desired.
Chased.
But what happens... when even desire forgets you?"
Yana roars, firing corruption vines shaped like hearts, claws, binding chains. She manipulates lust, craving, dominance.
But Eve? She whispers.
> Eve Maid:
"Sedate… obsession.
Sedate… the hunger for attention.
Sedate… the craving to dominate."
Each word slices deeper than any whip.
Yana's strikes lose form, her corruption aura flickering.
> Yana (stumbling, confused):
"Why… do I feel so… unwanted?"
> Eve Maid (now close, hand near Yana's cheek):
"Because you've never known what it means to be loved without control."
Suddenly—Eve kisses Yana's forehead.
A pulse.
Yana collapses, not in defeat, but in silence. A silence she's never felt.
No craving.
No control.
No obsession.
Just… peace.
Eve turns, her voice sultry, calm.
> Eve Maid:
"Desire is powerful…
But sedating it?
Is divine."
Jairak, the philosopher of pain, the Devia-born whose every scar is scripture—his aura: flickering Green-Yellow, veins pulsing with pain-forged clarity. His body, lean but wired like a concept barely held together by tension and meaning.
Across from him stands Jen Jen, a beast in beauty, a myth made muscle. Part fox, part tiger, ALL fury. Her Corruption force blazes Crimson-Purple, her tail twitching like a loaded spring, claws like ideas ready to shatter walls of reason.
---
> Jairak (grinning, voice slick with sarcasm):
"Let me guess...
You're gonna growl… roar… maybe throw a tree?
Furry strength is just screaming without substance."
Jen Jen's eye twitches. She doesn't respond. Not yet.
She charges.
BOOM! The ground splits.
Jairak skids back but… smiles.
His Devia aura tightens, organizing his agony like a library.
> Jairak (calmly):
"There it is.
With every hit, I learn.
Your pain is strength.
Mine is clarity."
She leaps—slashes! Kicks!
A tail swipe that shatters air like glass.
But with every blow, Jairak dodges tighter, reacts quicker—until his pain becomes a mirror.
> Jairak:
"See?
You just gave me six new reflexes.
I should thank you."
Jen Jen roars this time, louder—a growl that bends sound waves across dimensions.
Then she shifts.
Transformation Sequence – "Feral Echo" Form:
Her muscles expand like rumors of war, fur glows crimson-gold, claws pulse with ancient corruption glyphs. Her aura echoes backward into previous timelines, enhancing herself retroactively.
---
> Narrator (echoing):
"Her strength echoes across timelines.
She doesn't get stronger with each hit.
She's always been stronger. Retro-causality... through rage."
---
She slams into Jairak.
CRACK!
He goes flying, coughing... blood... no, insight.
> Jairak (kneeling, grinning wide):
"You're not dumb.
You're terrifying.
But rage... rage rots if left aimless.
Let's test how long you can swing…
Before you forget why you're angry."
---
Jairak activates Pain Clarity Ascendancy.
Suddenly, his wounds glow, forming ethereal tattoos.
Each scar becomes a mantra.
> "For every blow, I learn."
"For every wound, I rise."
"For every pain, I clarify."
---
They charge each other again—beast vs poet, fury vs focus, chaos vs calm.
The sky cracks. The battlefield splits.
---
> Jen Jen (eyes wild):
"I'll crush you!!"
> Jairak (serene):
"Good.
I'll thank you after."
Final Round: Jairak vs Jen Jen (Clarity Ascends)
A moment carved into the skin of the realm itself…
---
[Scene: The Free Abyss battlefield, now cratered, warped, and trembling]
The ground ripples like cloth. Reality twitches at the seams.
Jen Jen, her breath ragged, body scorched with internal strain, stood tall — her claws still smoking, eyes still burning.
Across from her… Jairak.
No longer bleeding — but glowing.
His Devia aura wasn't just radiating — it was conducting philosophy.
Green-yellow, sharp like judgment, heavy like truth.
A new form…
Clarity Fusion Mode.
---
> Jen Jen (growling, defiant):
"You still stand after that?
I cracked the sky!
Shook the bones of this damn realm!"
> Jairak (walking forward, voice calm like a preacher at a funeral):
"Exactly.
You crushed me.
And in doing so...
You revealed me to myself."
His aura roared silently — a paradox — both fire and silence. Each step echoed like the ticking of destiny.
> Jairak:
"Pain doesn't end me.
It formats me.
Rewrites me.
Refines me."
---
Jen Jen screamed, channeled everything she had into one final Feral Implosion Punch, the kind of hit that could obliterate narrative armor itself.
> Jen Jen (roaring):
"THEN LET ME BREAK YOU AGAIN!"
Jairak smiled.
He stepped into it.
"Clarity Nova: Fist of Final Meaning."
Their punches met.
And the universe blinked.
---
Time paused for the spectators.
The air split.
The Free Abyss itself jerked like a broken machine trying to reboot.
Somewhere, even Traxis raised an eyebrow.
When the shockwave cleared…
Jen Jen was on her knees, breathing heavy, her corruption force dimmed.
Jairak stood over her, not smug.
Just... solid. Complete.
---
> Jairak (softly):
"You didn't lose because you were weak.
You lost because you never paused to understand your fury.
I did."
> Jen Jen (panting, eyes wide):
"So this is... clarity?"
> Jairak:
"No.
This is clarity after surviving you."
---
The Free Abyss trembled... not in fear, but in acknowledgment.
> Narrator:
"Thus fell the fury... and rose the clarity.
Jairak, the Pain Philosopher, now a living testament…
That the deepest scars often write the clearest truths."
Elese vs Androsha
"The jungle may roar, but the fog… listens."
---
[Scene: A shadow-warped arena in the Free Abyss]
Roots cracked the ground. Spirit beasts snarled from within spectral trees.
The jungle obeyed Elese — her aura was feral, wild, ancient… but under the influence of the Corruption Force, it now whispered temptation into every leaf.
Across from her…
Androsha, draped in a long, mist-woven cloak, her Devia aura trailing like a ghost's breath. He didn't roar. He breathed. And her Fog Affinity obeyed like an old friend.
---
> Elese (commanding, arms raised):
"Nature doesn't ask for permission… it grows!
And I am its command!"
She slammed her foot down — vines, roots, and jaguar-shaped spirit vines surged at Androsha.
But the fog answered first.
> Androsha (voice like mist seeping under doors):
"When vision is all you know…
You forget how to sense."
With a snap of her fingers, fog burst from beneath her — thick, sentient, and hungry.
The vines struck — but hit nothing.
Each whip of nature phased, as if the world had been blurred on purpose.
---
> Narrator:
"The jungle seeks clarity through force.
But fog?
Fog seeks doubt. And once doubt enters… clarity stumbles."
---
Elese narrowed her eyes.
She called out Siphon-Tiger, a beast of corrupted soul-fangs and ethereal strength.
> Elese (growling):
"I don't need to see you to hit you!"
The tiger leaped — but just as its claws touched air—
—Fog Spiral: Inversion Bloom.
The tiger froze mid-air, its instincts confused by false feedback.
It hit the ground… in fear.
---
> Androsha (calmly):
"I don't blind you, Elese.
I give you the chance to see… beyond what you think is real."
> Elese (snapping):
"STOP TALKING LIKE A FORTUNE COOKIE!"
She screamed, and unleashed the Verdant Avatar, a massive tree-beast with multiple arms, wielding corrupted animal spirits in its limbs.
But Androsha…
She simply stepped backward — into the fog.
---
The entire battlefield twisted.
She looked around — the jungle was gone.
Replaced with an illusionary swamp, dripping with memory and half-truths.
Her beasts were now lost in it.
> Androsha (her voice echoing from everywhere):
"Devia adapts.
But my fog... questions.
And nature, when confused, devours itself."
---
Elese roared, calling down thunder from the trees — the corrupted jungle reacted violently, destroying even her own tigers.
But it was too late.
She was caught in the Zone of Fog Recall, a mental arena that turned her instincts into indecision.
She fell to her knees.
---
> Androsha (appearing beside her, quiet):
"You command nature.
I... listen to it.
That's the difference."
---
[Final blow: Mist Palm – Clarity Echo]
A tap on the head — and her aura faded.
Victory: Androsha
---
> Narrator:
"The jungle may roar to be heard…
But sometimes, silence answers louder."
Eugene vs Karan
"Light bends, Speed blurs… but sanity breaks first."
---
[Scene: The Mirage Arena — a warping space of distorted velocity and prismatic explosions.]
Two silhouettes stood in the storm.
One glowed with the radiance of corrupted light: Karan, wielding twisted constructs of photons laced with madness.
The other?
A blur of blue-gold neon motion: Eugene, sprinting across fragments of space-time, Devia coursing through every heartbeat.
---
> Karan (smirking):
"You're fast, Eugene.
But light doesn't chase speed…
Light is speed."
With a clap, his Light Constructs mutated, warping into needle-sharp beams guided by Corruption Force.
Light didn't just illuminate anymore — it pierced will.
He vanished.
BOOM.
He appeared behind Eugene —
Eugene vanished too.
Clash.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Explosions across the entire arena, sonic cracks ripping through the air.
They were fighting beyond afterimages — beyond logic.
Every second birthed a new crater.
Reality winced.
---
> Narrator:
"When light is corrupted…
it doesn't illuminate truth.
It blinds it."
---
Karan unleashed Light Barrage: Solar Malignance
Beams erupted like an orchestra of corrupted stars — focused into Eugene's trajectory.
Eugene gritted his teeth.
Devia was adapting... but barely.
> Eugene (internal monologue):
His light is faster than mine… stronger than mine… and my Devia's too new to match it.
But speed… real speed… is about timing.
And clarity isn't about dodging… it's about deciding.
---
Eugene stopped.
Mid-fight.
Mid-flash.
He stopped.
> Karan (startled):
"...Why did you stop?"
> Eugene (grinning):
"Because I already hit you."
Suddenly, Karan's shoulder shattered.
> Karan (shocked):
"What—how!?"
---
> Narrator:
"Eugene's Devia didn't just evolve his speed…
It rewrote the concept of reaction.
He touched the pressure points of madness.
And he touched them... first."
---
Devia Technique: Psychomotor Echo
Each touch Eugene made was a delayed impact — striking later, only when the opponent believed they were winning.
Karan stumbled — his corrupted light faltering.
He blinked.
Eugene was gone again.
—
Then—
> Eugene (reappearing, whispering):
"You made light obey corruption...
I made sanity obey momentum."
---
Final clash — a circular whirlwind of blinding motion and distorted thoughts.
Eugene's Reality Sprint kicked in, bending short-term perception.
Karan's mind tried to calculate a counter.
But it was too late.
BOOM.
Karan dropped, panting, aura flickering between brilliance and chaos.
---
> Eugene (offering a hand):
"Light's fast, sure.
But insanity?
That's even faster… if you don't dodge it."
---
Victory: Eugene.
Jason vs Viro: Justice vs Justification 🔥🟣
"In a world where truth is flexible… conviction becomes an act of rebellion."
---
[Scene: Debate Pyre — a twisted amphitheater of spiraling flames and whispering echoes.]
The arena shifts between scorched glass and echoing marble, reflecting Jason's burning resolve and Viro's distorted narrative.
Jason's Flames of Conviction, now tinged with Devia's neon green-yellow hue, ignite the ground with every step.
They're not just hot…
They're morally charged.
Viro, cloaked in neon-purple Corruption aura, smirks lazily as flickers of conversation swirl around him.
Literal Hearsay — phrases, accusations, twisted truths floating in the air.
---
> Viro (mocking):
"Oh, here he comes.
The torchbearer of justice.
Tell me, fireboy…
What happens when your flames burn the wrong person?"
> Jason (eyes glowing):
"Then I learn.
And I keep burning.
Because silence helps you…
but fire? Fire holds us accountable."
---
Viro raised a hand.
Words floated from it — real, weaponized rumors, each sentence infused with corruption logic.
> "Jason once hurt someone he was trying to save."
"He doesn't always believe in what he says."
"His justice is just trauma on fire."
The words wrapped around Jason like thorns, trying to crush his clarity.
---
Jason gritted his teeth.
His flames flickered.
But then—
They roared.
> Jason (shouting):
"Yes!
I have failed.
But I admit it.
My fire isn't perfect…
but it's mine.
I don't borrow truth, Viro…
I forge it."
---
Flame Technique: Pyro Convictus – Fire of the Transparent Heart
Flames surged from his chest — not from rage, but from admittance.
Devia amplified it — because Devia loves complexity — and Jason was raw truth with nuance.
---
> Viro (staggering):
"You're burning brighter…"
He tried to summon more hersay, but Jason punched the ground — flames erupted, burning every floating lie.
> Jason (calmly):
"If your power only works when no one questions it…
it was never power.
It was a deflection."
---
Viro snapped.
He fused more of his Corruption Force into a Truth Warp Construct — a being of distorted truth logic.
Jason stared at it.
> Jason:
"Cool.
But can it handle clarity?"
---
He stepped forward.
Every step cleansed the air.
Final technique:
"Truth Blaze Baptism"
A wave of fire spread across the field — burning away anything unearned.
Viro screamed as his fake constructs melted.
He lunged.
Jason blocked it with his bare hand — his flame forming a shield of resolved contradiction.
---
> Jason (quietly):
"You say justice is subjective…
But that's why someone has to carry it…
with accountability."
BOOM.
One last punch.
Viro's aura shatters.
---
Jason wins.
His flames? Dimmer. But realer.
Because Devia doesn't reward perfection… it amplifies integrity.
These battles weren't about who's stronger, But it's about who has more clarity.
Corruption force is Escapism, Devia is Authenticity with Flexible reasoning... but what happens when something is too flexible..it moves ahead of the authentic