A flicker of movement caught Ebonheim's eye—a blur of silver and shadow, there, then gone. She followed the blur, nocking another Essence Bolt and letting it fly toward the flickering figure. It passed through another reflection, and the real guardian materialized somewhere else.

  Syntris growled in frustration, swinging his hammer once again, only to hit nothing but air as the reflection dissolved.

  "It's everywhere," Ariastra muttered, her voice tight with tension. The strings along her body hummed with the tension of suppressed power, waiting for a target that wasn't there. Her melody faltered, then shifted into a dissonant key, reverberating across the plateau like a broken harp.

  Aetheron remained still, his translucent form aglow, his eyes scanning the field, but the flickering guardian was everywhere and nowhere. Its movements weren't just fast—they were disjointed, appearing in places it couldn't possibly have moved to in time. Each shift of its shape seemed to draw from another reality, each reflection a possibility as real as the last.

  "It's not confined to one place," Aetheron said finally, his voice cutting through the chaos. "It's shifting through different possibilities of itself. It's...it's not a single entity. It's a...a collective probability."

  Ebonheim's gaze darted from reflection to reflection as they flickered across the plateau.

  As she watched the flickering forms of the guardian dart around the plateau, her mind raced to comprehend what she was seeing.

  This was unlike any threat they had faced before. The guardian didn't move in any discernible pattern; there seemed to be no logic behind its chaotic shifts. It didn't strike out or engage them directly; instead, it simply danced around them, taunting them with its elusiveness.

  Aetheron's words echoed in her mind—it was shifting through different possibilities of itself. What did that even mean? How could something exist in so many states at once? And what did that imply for their chances in this battle?

  Another flicker—this time closer. The guardian's arm, crystalline one moment and liquid the next, lashed out like a whip, shimmering with reflected light. Syntris roared and threw himself forward, hammer raised to meet the strike, but the guardian blurred at the last second, and Syntris swung through empty air once more.

  Before any of them could react, the guardian reappeared behind Nephri. The serpentine goddess twisted her body in a defensive arc, but the strike had already landed. She hissed as the guardian's arm passed through her form, not with force, but with something far worse—an unnatural shimmer, as though reality itself had shifted in its wake.

  Nephri's form rippled, distorting as if seen through broken glass.

  "Nephri!" Ebonheim called out, drawing her bow taut. She fired another Essence Bolt, the arrow splitting the air with a whistle. Again, the guardian vanished, and the arrow harmlessly pierced another reflection.

  As Nephri's form stabilized, Ebonheim moved to her side. "What... what did it do?"

  "I...I don't know," Nephri responded slowly, her voice sounding distant and distorted. "I felt...displaced. As if...as if I were torn from this reality for a moment. But only a moment." She shook her head slowly, a ripple running down her serpentine body. "My divine aura is unscathed, but...there was a distortion of my connection to this plane. It was..." She shivered. "...unnerving."

  As Ebonheim's eyes darted around the plateau, she couldn't help but notice the landscape had changed subtly. The stars overhead seemed to shift and rotate in an unfamiliar dance. The crystal spire that held the core flickered with an inner light that didn't quite match the glow of before.

  And then there was the guardian, still flickering in and out of existence around them, a phantom taunting their every move.

  "Aetheron," she called out, her voice tense, "any insight on this?"

  The deity's eyes were on the guardian, following its erratic movements. "The guardian's nature is different from ours," he finally said. "It doesn't exist in the same way we do. Its existence is fragmented, scattered across different possibilities."

  "And that strike?" Ebonheim asked, still concerned about Nephri's wellbeing.

  Aetheron pondered for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure. But I suspect it has the power to fragment our own beings across those possibilities. If that happens..."

  Before he could finish his thought, the guardian solidified behind Ariastra. The goddess spun around, her fingers striking her strings in a rapid arpeggio. A wave of disruptive sound exploded outwards, colliding with the guardian and sending shockwaves through the plateau.

  The guardian rippled and flickered at the edge of the shockwave. For a brief moment, it seemed to dissipate before snapping back into focus—recomposed but on the offensive.

  Its reflective hand swept towards Ariastra, barely grazing her arm as she dove away from the strike. But even that brief contact caused her arm to ripple and distort. A sharp note resonated from her strings—a dissonant echo—as her hand flickered in and out of focus for a split second. In that moment, Ariastra's form blurred and split, mirroring the guardian's own flickering existence.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Ariastra!" Ebonheim called out, already moving to close the distance between them. As she did, the guardian shifted again, reappearing further along the plateau's edge in another defensive maneuver.

  Ariastra's arm came back into focus, and her music steadied. She gave Ebonheim a reassuring look, her eyes clear and determined. "I'm unharmed," she assured her. "But that strike...it's not a physical attack. It felt like my connection to this realm was being realigned to a different state—matching the one that struck me."

  "Realigned? Like what we went through in the last realm?"

  "Similar but not quite the same. The moment it struck me, everyone but the guardian looked like mirages. I could barely see any of you. Yet the guardian was sharply defined. As if the world had shifted and only the guardian and I existed there."

  Aetheron's voice cut in. "That confirms it. This guardian exists across multiple possible realities. Each time it attacks, it shifts its opponents into a state that matches its own. A match of reality frequencies, you could say."

  "And how do we counter that?" Ebonheim asked, her gaze still tracking the flickering form of the guardian as it danced just out of reach.

  "Just as we cannot seem to directly interact with its true form..." he replied slowly, thoughtfully, "...neither can it interact with ours in the normal sense. Those strikes...they're attempts to bridge that gap, to force us into a state where it can harm us."

  Ebonheim tracked the flickering form of the guardian. "So, what? It's trying to line us up? With...itself?"

  Aetheron didn't hesitate. "Precisely. Each strike it lands repositions its target into one of its own realms—aligning its victim to a plane where they become a more vulnerable target."

  Ebonheim frowned and tested this by letting an essence arrow fly toward the guardian. Sure enough, the arrow passed through the reflection and careened off into the distance. The guardian's movements remained erratic, its form constantly shifting in and out of existence.

  "So then what? Our only choice is to let it hit us so we can engage with it?" she asked, frustration creeping into her voice. "I doubt we'll all end up in the same plane with the same guardian if that happens. And who knows how many...realms...it's in at the same time?"

  "Exactly," Aetheron affirmed, his eyes never leaving the elusive threat before them. "It's a risky proposition but perhaps the only viable one. When we first experienced those disorienting effects of the realm earlier—the sense of being fragmented—I glimpsed many possibilities of our situation. What could be. What might have been. I was thrust into several of those concurrent realities. But I also saw my path to victory."

  He turned to face the others, his gaze solemn. "For each possibility, I discerned a distinct tactic that would result in its defeat. But from your reactions, I suspect not everyone experienced the same phenomenon. My course forward may not be shared."

  Syntris's gruff voice broke the contemplative silence. "Bah! Let the cursed guardian strike me. I'll pound whatever version I meet into the ground—repeatedly if need be!"

  Ebonheim shot Syntris a glance. "Famous last words. Not a bad plan, though. Just...brash." She then turned her gaze back to Aetheron. "Guess that means we have to split up and play the odds, huh? Are you sure we can even attack the guardian once we're lined up with it?"

  "I certainly hope so," Ariastra murmured. "We did not come this far to fall in the final stretch."

  Aetheron gave a curt nod. "Divide and conquer, as they say. Engage the guardian and confront the possibilities you are thrusted into. Be mindful in the fight."

  He began to explain. "In the various realities I saw, the fight progressed differently in each. Some unfolded in our favor. Some not. Our cohesion in the current realm will falter if we're scattered across different planes, but the unity of our purpose will bind us still."

  "In other words," Syntris interjected, pointing at Ebonheim. "Pull your weight and do what must be done in your reality. This won't be an isolated fight."

  His words rang clear, and Ebonheim nodded. Each of them would face their own battle against the same adversary, a simultaneous struggle that would play out differently for each of them. All they could hope was that these fractured realities were parallel and not divergent. That an advantage found in one would trickle into their current reality and could turn the tide in their collective favor.

  After their strategic meeting dispersed, the gods scattered across the plateau, taking positions equidistant from the crystal spire at the center.

  The guardian had paused in its flickering dance, seeming to watch their dispersion with an odd, faceless intent. As Ebonheim's gaze met the reflective void where its eyes should have been, she felt a shiver run through her—a primal instinct warning of an indescribable threat.

  Then, without a discernible signal, the guardian moved. Its form shifted and scattered into myriad reflections once again, darting across the plateau towards each of them.

  And yet, all Ebonheim could do now was wait.

  She focused on steadying her breathing, preparing herself for the impending strike that would fling her into another reality. Her hand flexed by her side, ready to pull an Essence Bolt the moment she got the chance.

  The guardian blurred, and for a fleeting second, its body seemed to align with hers. It struck—a quick flash of silvery movement—and a force unlike any she had felt before slammed into her.

  In a whirlwind of sensory overload, the world shifted. The crystal spire at the plateau's center distorted and twisted, its pristine surface becoming marred and cracked. The once-starry sky above darkened ominously, stars blinking out until only a desolate void remained. The other gods disappeared from view, leaving her alone on the transformed plateau, facing the guardian in a nightmare version of her surroundings.

  The guardian itself had changed. Gone was the elusiveness; its body seemed grounded and substantial in this new reality.

  But that wasn't all.

  A series of protrusions began to sprout along the guardian's back—crystalline formations that pulsed with an unsettling red hue. These jagged shards began to glow from within, each pulse in sync with an unseen heartbeat, casting an eerie crimson light across the now desolate plateau.

  Ebonheim narrowed her now glowing eyes, and focused on her target.

  No more holding back. No more restraint. If this was truly where everything culminates, then there's only one move left... All-In!

  ['Divine Arsenal: Cepheid' Invoked]

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