My barriers shatter and I rebuild them faster than thought allows. That's what I do. Hold the line when others can't, stand between danger and the people I've sworn to protect, manifest will into diamond-hard reality that says no, you cannot pass, not while I'm still breathing. But Vazroth breaks through everything I create like I'm building walls from paper.
VTH: Admirable persistence. How many times have you rebuilt that same barrier in the last ten minutes? Fifty? A hundred?
I don't answer. Can't afford to waste breath on conversation when every second counts, when every barrier buys the others fractions of moments to recover, reposition, survive. My barriers aren't about winning anymore. They're about not losing too quickly.
Alexander crashes into Vazroth from the left, obsidian forming spikes that should impale. I manifest a barrier behind Vazroth, cutting off his retreat. He twists with impossible speed and catches Alexander's wrist mid-strike, throws him into my barrier hard enough to crack it.
I feel the impact like a physical blow. Pain shoots up my arms, but I'm already rebuilding, already repositioning.
Maeve's temporal manipulation stutters the air beside me, and I watch her age another year in the space of seconds. More gray in her hair. More lines around her eyes. She's killing herself to buy us time we can't use effectively, spending her future on a present that keeps slipping away.
NOL: Maeve, stop
MAV: I can't!
And she's right. She can't stop because stopping means Vazroth moves unopposed, means the others get overwhelmed, means everyone dies while she stays young and useless. But continuing means she ages herself into irrelevance or death, trades decades for seconds that accomplish nothing except delaying inevitable defeat.
I manifest a barrier between her and the fight, trying to protect her from herself. It's transparent, permeable to everything except her temporal manipulation. She can see through it, can move through it, but her power won't pass. It's a compromise, a way to keep her from spending herself into oblivion while still letting her contribute.
She looks at me with fury and gratitude warring in her expression, and I see her hands move through patterns anyway. The barrier holds against her manipulation, but I feel it strain, feel her will pressing against mine in a contest I don't want to win.
NOL: Please. Let me protect you.
MAV: I don't need protection. I need to help!
NOL: You are helping. You've bought us minutes. But minutes don't matter if you're dead!
Vazroth appears beside my barrier without crossing the space between, and his fist crashes through it like it's made of glass. Shards of manifested will dissolve into nothing, and my hands are already moving to rebuild before conscious thought processes the destruction.
VTH: You protect her from herself while I destroy you both. Interesting tactical choice.
His other hand closes around my throat, and suddenly I'm lifted off the ground with strength that makes mockery of human limitation. My barriers manifest automatically, trying to force his grip open, but his fingers don't budge. Just tighten slowly, deliberately, cutting off air with measured precision.
I create barriers inside his hand, trying to expand them, to break his grip from within. They shatter the moment they form. I manifest constructs around his arm, trying to restrain it. They last half a heartbeat before dissolving. Every defense I've ever learned, every technique I've refined over years of training, proves inadequate against something that exists outside the rules I've built my fighting style around.
Ivy's blade appears from nowhere, poison-coated edge driving toward Vazroth's ribs. He catches it with his free hand, lets the toxin eat through his palm, and doesn't even flinch. Just holds the blade while his grip on my throat tightens another degree.
VTH: Your barriers are impressive. The way you manifest conviction into physical form, the speed at which you rebuild. In another fight, you'd be nearly unbeatable. But barriers only work against threats that respect physical boundaries. And I stopped respecting those centuries ago.
Alexander's obsidian spike erupts from the ground beneath Vazroth's feet, forcing him to move or be impaled. He moves, releases me in the process, and I drop hard, gasping for air that burns going down my damaged throat.
Maeve is beside me instantly, her hands on my shoulders, and I see more gray in her hair. She used temporal manipulation to reach me faster, spent more years to cross a few feet of battlefield in the fraction of a second.
MAV: Are you-
NOL: I'm fine.
I'm not fine. My throat feels crushed, my barriers keep failing, and the person I'm trying to protect keeps sacrificing herself because I can't actually keep her safe. But fine is all we have, so fine is what I claim.
I push myself up, hands already moving through patterns to rebuild barriers around the others. Astra above, raining starlight that can't touch him. Lisa struggling with thorns that want to betray her. Ivy circling with poison that annoys at best. Alexander pressing forward with obsidian that breaks too easily. And Maeve aging herself to death because my protection isn't enough.
My barriers reform. Shatter. Reform again. Vazroth watches me rebuild with something that might be respect or might be pity.
VTH: You're going to die protecting people who can't be saved. Is that really how you want this to end?
I manifest another barrier, stronger this time, layered with everything I've learned about molecular density and force distribution and geometric perfection.
It lasts three seconds before he shatters it. But three seconds is enough for Alexander to land a strike. For Ivy to reposition. For Lisa to pull her thorns back from betrayal. For Astra to illuminate something we might have missed. Three seconds is enough. So I rebuild. Again. Always. Because I'm the wall that holds, even when holding accomplishes nothing except delaying the inevitable.