Thrúiowre added more force with a deep grunt, then the space below them crumbled and shattered, the void giving way completely.
It was no slow descent, nor was it a dramatic fall; but it was sudden, like a merciless absence of foothold. Gravity—or whatever cruel imitation of it was there—seized Rin and his opponent, then yanked them downward.
The maids fell too, their skirts fluttering upward in the rushing wind that howled through the new dimension.
Munganda's black skirt lifted high, revealing sheer black panties edged with delicate lace that clung to her pale thighs like a second skin.
However, Inferna's skirt rose as well, but there was nothing beneath; only smooth and bare dark lower lips, and the faint glint of scales along her inner thighs, shameless and unapologetic.
Neither made a sound regarding their impending fall, and they stood still as they went down with practiced grace, with Inferna's tails slightly coiling for balance, and their eyes still closed as though the drop were merely an inconvenience.
Thrúiowre landed before Rin, but it was almost as if the ground had risen to meet them rather than the other way around. Their massive frame struck the new surface with perfect stillness, the armor absorbing the impact without a tremor.
The Titan stood still like a carved stone as they landed, their sword already raised again, and the starry red glow inside the helmet sweeping the new landscape.
They had arrived in an endless plain of green grasses that stretched under a bruised bluish-purple sky. The blades of the grasses swayed in unnatural silence; over here, there was no wind or lifeforms, only the faint rustle of reality trying to remember how to exist here.
That is, this world hadn't been fully made yet.
Inferna and Munganda dropped to the ground a heartbeat later, landing lightly on bent knees, their skirts settling around them with elegant finality.
They rose in unison, with their expressions unchanged. However, Rin, their master, was nowhere to be found.
Thrúiowre began to glance around the expanse of grasses to find him.
But soon and without warning, a flash of crimson light shone and Rin was suddenly at Thrúiowre's face.
He had appeared in a blink, his golden short sword already drawn back to swing.
SLASH!
Then he swung at Thrúiowre's head.
The blade resonated through the air with a fearsome high, keening shriek; like glass shattering across a thousand dimensions at once.
And the ground going miles away from them split up from the force.
The slash carved a perfect line through reality. Grass, earth, sky, and clouds; everything along the arc's way tore open in a glowing fissure that stretched horizon to horizon.
The under-developed world creaked from the intensity, as distant mountains trembled.
But…
CRACK, CRASH!
Rin's sword cracked, then shattered on the helmet of Thrúiowre.
Its golden fragments exploded outward like dying fireworks, dissolving into motes before they hit the ground. The impact rang through Rin's arms, shaking his bone and muscle.
In spite of this, Thrúiowre did not even wince. Because, they were ready for the impact.
And with a heavy head-butt, Thrúiowre retaliated: they slammed Rin into the ground with a deep roar. The Titan's helmet met Rin's forehead in a brutal collision that cracked the space itself.
On the ground, Rin's vision flashed white, as he tasted his own blood.
But then the Titan's foot came down on him, several times, like an angry elephant on a mouse, each stomp driving Rin deeper into the soil.
The planet shook violently under the pressure, as cracks raced outward in spider web patterns.
Then Thrúiowre raised his foot—coating it in clouds of darkness—and stomped so hard, the dimension cracked again and fell in, taking them to another location: a snowy mountain. The world had folded like wet paper.
One moment was the endless grass; but the next one was a biting wind and blinding white.
Rin and Thrúiowre had plummeted through the previous tear together, Thrúiowre still on Rin, landing in a crouch on a frozen peak that overlooked a valley of jagged ice spires. Snow whipped around them in furious spirals.
The maids appeared an instant later, standing on a nearby ledge, but unlike their previous serene expressions, Inferna and Munganda had their faces etched with evident concern and uncertainty.
Rin leapt off the ground where he laid to some distance away from Thrúiowre, shaking the snow from his hair.
Not giving him a moment to recover, Thrúiowre had come upon him and slashed at him.
The ornate sword swept in a wide horizontal arc.
The cut was clean and ruthless, slicing the majority of the whole mountain itself, causing it simply to ceased to exist—peak, ridge, and half the slope carved off and vanished in a single stroke, leaving a sheer drop into mist-filled abyss.
Snow and rock tumbled after the missing mass like an afterthought.
But Rin wasn't caught up in the disaster. No, he had twisted himself and avoided being cut with the paramount.
He spun mid-air, his body twisting at an impossible angle, and his crimson aura flaring to push him clear. His feet touched the ground, sliding backward down the ruined slope.
Thrúiowre was surprisingly fast despite their heavy-looking body. They chased after Rin, slashing and stomping at him with dimension-wrecking force.
Each swing tore chunks from the mountain; each stomp sent avalanches roaring down the flanks.
It wasn't known if life existed in this world. But if there were people below the mountain, they must have regrettably met their end by now.
Rin quickly darted between Thrúiowre's strikes, but his breath was coming in short bursts. He immediately began to mutter strange words under his breath as he ran and evaded.
"[Grønni Fángelsi, taki óvin minn!]," Rin whispered.
And in response to his command, thick thorny vines erupted from below, bursting through ice and stone like flexible spears.
They wrapped themselves like anacondas around Thrúiowre's arm and torso in an instant, the thorns attempting to drill into his living armor.
And the Titan halted for the first time, their legs rooted, but they still calmed with some restrained power.
Then Rin jumped high and floated in the air before Thrúiowre, his eyes went pure white and his hair went completely blonde, and he began to chant a spell in an eerie ancient language:
"∆+∆\|/¤ Ħ Ɵ Ʊ Ȫ Ȣ Ƚ ʢ ʡ Β Ϡ Ѫ Ф ҉ ҂ ᾇ ₰ ᴥ!!"
The words were not spoken so much as torn from reality. Each syllable warped the air, leaving afterimages of fractured characters flying around.
Soon, the heavens above Thrúiowre opened up with a large crimson-violet eye looking down on them. The pupil tightened, focusing on the target. Then it began to hum with an electric cadence, glowing brighter, and ready to discharge.