On the western flank, Zoe was still fuming from being played by Roxy.

  She stomped down the corridor, every step a diva’s exit cue. Gorgeous, sure—but her mood? Lethal. Anyone dumb enough to get in her way right now risked being launched into orbit.

  Then she stopped.

  Floating in the gloom ahead was a massive object, shaped somewhere between a stingray and a stealth drone. Its sleek, curved frame gleamed black shine rippled along the curved frame, titanium swallowing light into its surface. Its tail ended in a spear-point, twitching with a hunger to pierce.

  It hovered in the air, poised to strike.

  “…Interesting.”

  Zoe glanced back at the empty hall behind her. “Too bad nobody’s here to witness my amazing performance…”

  Silence never killed her craving for an audience. If anything, it made her show-off switch flip harder. She kicked forward—the stage claimed her, curtain rising.

  “Hey!” she yelled, all but daring it.

  Fwoosh! The stingray drone dove instantly, breaking the sound barrier—Mach 3 at least. Fast enough to turn earthworms into vapor.

  “Now that’s more like it.”

  Zoe spun in midair, twisting out of its path without a single strand of pink hair out of place. A katana materialized in her grip with a magician’s flourish, and she lunged in—moe angel meets battle idol.

  Before she could carve her entrance, the stingray fired a missile the size of a body pillow.

  She backflipped, landing soft as a gymnast’s dismount. “…Really? A cheap shot?”

  She stuck her tongue out. Another volley of rockets came whistling her way in reply.

  “Tch. Cute.”

  Her blade flashed, cleaving a missile in half—a Fruit Ninja demo. But it wasn’t just one—this thing was sending the whole fridge.

  Zoe twirled, dodging, slashing, sweeping arcs with the grace of a phantom dancer in a storm. Beautiful enough to earn applause—if her opponent had hands.

  The problem was numbers. Too many warheads to slice. One broke through from behind.

  Crap!

  Her heart skipped. For a second she thought of a witty last line for her epitaph. But before it could reach her—

  The missile blinked out of existence.

  Zoe whipped around, breath stuck in her chest—

  And what stepped through the blossoming rift made her speechless.

  The fabric of space curled back, layers peeling outward in blinding arcs. From within, something emerged—its fur gleaming gold, nine tails swaying with solemn grace.

  A Nine-Tailed Fox.

  It stood tall now, easily big enough for her to ride on its back.

  “You—saved me?!” Zoe gasped.

  The fox only flicked an ear.

  Her chest clenched, sudden tears welling. Protected… without asking. It just knew.

  A name bloomed in her mind. “From now on… I’ll call you Nine.”

  The fox swished its tails in quiet agreement.

  “So you do like it.” She grinned, patting its head before glaring back at the stingray drone circling in the air.

  “Alright, Nine. Let’s fry that fish. …You do eat fish, right?”

  Nine shot her a look—deadpan, almost offended. Not a cat. And that’s metal, not mackerel.

  “Geez, chill! I was kidding.” She flashed a peace sign, V-for-Victory.

  “Let’s go!”

  Together they shot skyward.

  The stingray swooped, another storm of missiles streaking out. Zoe sprinted through the air, her blade sketching brilliant strokes—art of war inked across the void.

  Nine leapt beside her, tails blazing. Each warhead disintegrated in an instant.

  “Nice one!” Zoe shouted.

  But it wasn’t over. The enemy’s tail-spear whipped forward, a strike born of instinct and hunger. Zoe dodged—almost. The tip grazed her arm.

  A line of blood welled up.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Zoe gritted her teeth and leapt back into the air, her blade spinning in a furious rhythm—overhead slash, side cut, upward arc—running through every legendary kata she’d ever memorized.

  Clang! Clang! Clang!

  The stingray drone didn’t flinch. Its armor rang but never bent. Harder than stone, harder than steel.

  Quantanium.

  The same material as Skyler’s dimensional gates—designed to absorb power, to resist every kind of magic.

  She twisted away, somersaulting back onto Nine’s broad back, catching her breath.

  “Alright… round two. This time, I’m not holding back!”

  The pink-haired idol wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, then reached into the shimmering rift beside her. Her body fought against invisible tons.

  No one knew what Zoe actually stashed in that pocket dimension—certainly not the scooter, cosplay outfits, and bargain-bin collectibles she hoarded.

  What she pulled out now was…

  A bow.

  A massive longbow nearly three meters tall. An absurd weapon for her size—S-class idol body, XXL weapon. She’d never even tried it before. But right now, options were zero.

  Missiles poured in, a living storm of steel and fury. Nine twisted and weaved, tails batting them aside, shielding her at every angle.

  This is what it feels like… to trust someone to watch your back.

  Her arms shook as she struggled to steady the bow under its crushing weight.

  And then—

  The fox turned its head, jaws clamping gently around the grip. All nine tails unfurled in a halo of light. It gave a firm nod.

  Let me help.

  “…Clever boy.”

  Zoe nocked an arrow of her own making—drawn not from a quiver, but spun from drifting particles of energy. Petals bloomed around her, cherry blossoms scattered in the vacuum, ephemeral beauty condensed into lethal force.

  Her sharp gaze locked on the target above—the black stingray weaving in the sky.

  Please let those hours of gaming archery count for something… 3… 2… 1…

  Thrum!

  The arrow released, its force a seam-ripper through the fabric of reality. It speared straight through the stingray’s body, a divine bolt piercing a mechanical beast.

  Light swallowed its core—then snap! The craft imploded in absolute silence, vanishing into nothing.

  All that remained was a drifting rain of pink luminescence, falling slow against the eternal black of space.

  Cherry blossoms on the moon.

  “See? Told you… it’s a shame no one else got to watch this.” Zoe whispered, smiling faintly.

  Nine swished a tail in answer. But I saw.

  Meanwhile, on the southern flank—

  Roxy was staring down what looked suspiciously—Iron Man from another multiverse.

  A black-plated knight hovered in midair, as if gravity were just a polite suggestion. The armor wrapped him head to toe, seamless as a flying vault.

  Guess someone thought life gets easier if you weld flesh to steel.

  She couldn’t see its face, only a stare that carved her into a meal waiting to be served.

  A humanoid, then, Roxy thought, focus narrowing to a point.

  Each step carried the fragility of treading over spun glass.

  The knight’s body gleamed with five swords strapped to its side, hilts stabbing outward, each sword a promise of violence. Two blades slid free in unison, slow and deliberate, movements disturbingly human—if you ignored the part where he floated.

  Think that’ll intimidate me?

  Roxy flicked her wrist. Five crystalline spears shimmered into being, the pull of a private solar system.

  The knight shifted—

  whoosh!

  —and appeared before her in a blink. A blade scythed down, silver arc screaming through the air.

  But Roxy hadn’t been born to play the victim.

  She pivoted—just enough, no more, no less—each dodge a polished dance of survival.

  Steel flashed past her cheek. Again. Again. She didn’t counter. Not yet. She was reading the fight, every reaction weighed with gambler’s precision, no tells given.

  “…Artificial intelligence,” she muttered, boredom dripping heavier than a warning sign.

  The clash came—steel against glass—notes shivering through the air in radiant waves. Her spears lunged, parried, circled. The knight mirrored her in eerie sync, five blades orbiting, mimicking her technique as though he’d stolen it mid-fight.

  Weapons sparred in the air on their own, dancing violently between them while their wielders locked eyes—three inches apart.

  The longer this drags out, the stronger it gets.

  Roxy’s gut twisted as her spears were slowly forced back.

  Then it struck. The knight lunged with two blades, aiming a killing cross-cut meant to cleave her in three.

  CRASH!

  The blades scraped against something harder than diamond.

  Roxy’s lips curved into a cruel smirk. Glass armor, translucent as moonlit crystal, rippled across her body.

  “You’ve got armor? Then so do I.”

  The knight adjusted instantly, sending all five swords hurtling at once—a death symphony conducted with flawless precision.

  Steel clashed glass in a storm of sparks. Their duel was relentless, violent, suffocating. Until finally—both were blasted apart, skidding back through a haze of fire and shards.

  Roxy panted lightly, though she masked it beneath her cold, unshaken expression.

  Humanoid. Which means… it doesn’t tire. The longer this lasts, the worse for me.

  She flicked her wrist. More spears materialized—ten now—unleashed, a starving flock of hawks.

  While the knight scrambled to intercept, sparks raining as it parried, she found her opening.

  Now.

  Roxy lunged. A spear flashed into her grip—precise, merciless. She thrust.

  SHNK!

  Her weapon punched through its helm. Armor cracked at the shoulder, pieces falling. Her brow drew tight, blazing with triumph.

  But victory soured instantly—black liquid spewed from its neck, veiling the face she longed to see.

  “You… you’re human!?” she hissed, shocked. “Who are you? Show yourself!”

  She surged forward, only for the knight to fling all five swords upward. Instinct forced her to glance up—

  The ceiling was collapsing.

  Concrete split, girders snapped, breaking apart piece by piece, its ruin shuddering through the air. She dove aside—

  BOOOOM!

  The roof caved in, the sound hammering her ears, choking the air with dust.

  And when the haze cleared… the knight was gone.

  Only a hollow, shattered shell of armor remained—broken, empty, as a nightmare that slips away in daylight but leaves the dread behind.

  “…What was that thing?”

  The question gnawed at her.

  And some truths, she realized, were never meant to be unearthed—especially truths that chose to hide themselves.