CELESTIA - Chapter 67 : One Above All
6777777!!!!!! Hmm... Sorry. Let's start over.
---
The void between dimensions had neither beginning nor end. It was a corridor without walls, an expanse without ground, a breath without air. Colors were born and died there before ever being seen. Sounds were memories, and memories were shadows.
Orion advanced.
His footsteps touched nothing, but he walked. He had learned, over the centuries, to move through spaces that do not exist. His arms, slightly spread, maintained his balance in this flow of contradictory energies. Around him, fragments of realities scrolled by — shards of dead worlds, reflections of forgotten planets, echoes of battles that had never taken place.
He held the dimensional lamp.
It still glowed, with a pale, flickering light, like a candle nearing its end. Each pulse was weaker than the last. Each second carried him further from his goal.
He clutched it against him.
"A little more," he murmured, his voice barely louder than a breath. "Just a little more."
He was searching for the zone. The UGC prison. The lost island. He had seen it once, in Merela's memories, in the ashes of Sautohote Nyx. An image etched into his mind like a scar. But finding it was one thing. Reaching it was another.
The dimensions scrolled faster. Impossible colors, nameless shapes, echoes of dead languages. He passed through them without looking, his eyes fixed on the moving horizon, where space folded in on itself like a crumpled sheet of paper.
He felt the presence before he saw it.
A red light, in the distance. Then closer. Then just behind him.
He turned.
Ryo stood there, in the middle of the dimensional corridor. Hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, his black eyes gleaming in the strange light of the void. He didn't seem to have moved. But he was there. He was always there, somewhere, waiting.
"Orion. Long time no see."
"Not long enough."
"Still as charming as ever."
Orion didn't answer. He raised his free hand, particles of light dancing around his fingers. The energy was still there, but it was fading. He felt it in his bones, in his veins, in the emptiness of the lamp pressing against his chest.
"I don't have time for you."
"I have plenty. Lots of it."
Ryo vanished.
He reappeared behind him, his hand already in motion. A sharp blow, charged with blessed energy, straight into the Djinn's back.
Orion flew forward, crashing against an invisible wall. The particles of light around him scattered for a moment, then reformed, slower, weaker.
He stood up, short of breath. His fingers trembled.
"You're faster than I remember."
"And you're slower."
Ryo attacked again. A series of blows, fast, precise, effortless. His silhouette slid between dimensions like a fish through water, each movement casual, almost bored.
Orion parried, dodged, retreated. But Ryo didn't let him breathe.
"Why are you doing this?" Orion asked, teeth clenched.
"Because I'm bored."
Ryo struck him on the temple.
The world tilted. Light shattered. Orion collapsed, one knee on the ground, his hand on the invisible wound bleeding from within. The dimensional lamp rolled out of his hand, stopping a few meters away. Its light flickered, then weakened, then almost died.
Ryo approached, picked it up. He looked at it for a moment, turned it between his fingers, then tossed it back to Orion.
"It's empty. No more energy."
Orion caught it, turned it over. It was cold. Dead. The metal was as cold as the void around them.
"No…"
"Yes. I made you waste enough time for it to run out. You can thank me later."
Ryo smiled. A smile that wasn't a smile. A grimace of pleasure, of weariness, of defiance. He turned, and disappeared into a rift of light, swallowed by the dimensions like a forgotten thought.
Orion was left alone.
On his knees, in the endless corridor, the dead lamp in his palms. He closed his eyes. He breathed. He counted his heartbeats, one by one, like counting the seconds before the end.
"I'll be back."
He stood up.
His body burned. Every muscle, every joint, every memory of combat still vibrated beneath his skin. But he didn't stop.
He looked at the moving horizon, the dimensions scrolling without him, the colors dancing in the void. He had no more energy. No more portal. No more path.
But he still had one thing.
The certainty that he would return.
He walked into the dimensional shadow, the empty lamp in his palm, his shadow stretching behind him like a silent farewell. The dimensions still scrolled, but they no longer spoke to him. They ignored him. They forgot him.
He walked for a long time.
Without purpose. Without light. Without hope.
But he walked.
Because it was the only thing he knew how to do.
Move forward.
---