Zane narrowed his eyes, twin blades spinning once in his hands as he surged forward like a dark missile, void energy crackling around him.
"YOU WANNA THROW HANDS? FINE!" he shouted mid-air.
The red-fla figure didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even flinch.
Zane brought his blades down in an X-slash with all the confidence of soone about to beco legend—
WHAP.
A slap.
Not a punch.
Not a blast.
Not a power move.
A slap.
A disrespectful, soul-resetting, teeth-loosening, tiline-altering SLAP.
Zane didn’t even hit the ground. He just hovered midair in stunned silence for a mont, rotating slowly like a broken ceiling fan before crashing down with a hollow thud.
Nyx winced from the sidelines. "Oof."
Link coughed. "I’ve seen Eldritch gods scream in agony and dissolve into ash, but that? That was pain with backstory."
Zane twitched on the ground.
His blades clattered beside him, forgotten. His pride? Dead. His spirit? Writing a resignation letter.
He sat up slowly, eyes wide, hair frazzled, and stared blankly at the floor.
"...I am... nothing," he mumbled.
He picked up a pebble and whispered to it, "You’re more powerful than now."
The red figure simply folded his arms, clearly unimpressed.
Nyx floated down next to Zane and patted his back. "There, there. At least you tried."
Zane groaned. "That slap deleted my will to exist... My self-esteem is beyond zero. It’s in the negatives. I owe self-worth at this point."
Link added cheerfully, "Welco to rock bottom! We have cookies."
Zane slowly stood up, wobbling. He looked at the red figure, raising a hand again like a student asking to go to the bathroom.
"Okay. New plan. How about I don’t fight you and you don’t slap again?"
The red figure finally smirked.
"Better," he said.
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