Shatter

The moment the stranger spoke Sol's name, the Cosmic Drift seemed to hold its breath. The usual hum of conversation had already dimmed when he entered, but now, an unnatural stillness gripped the bar.

Candy's tail flicked in agitation, her fingers tightening around the glass she had just finished wiping. Sol noticed the way her ears twitched, picking up on the tension radiating from the remaining patrons. The few who hadn't fled outright were now watching with thinly veiled interest, their curiosity battling their self-preservation instincts.

Sol, ever the picture of ease, leaned back against the counter, letting a smirk crawl onto his lips. "So? What do you want?"

The stranger, a tall, composed figure wrapped in a dark trench coat, studied him with a cool, assessing gaze. "That depends," they replied smoothly. "Are you the type to listen before making a decision, or will you waste my time with theatrics?"

Sol exhaled a slow, amused breath, drumming his fingers against the bar. "I do enjoy a good show, but seeing as you went through all this trouble just to find me, I suppose I can be polite. For now."

Candy shot him a sidelong glance, her golden eyes narrowing in a silent warning. She didn't like this. Sol wasn't exactly predictable, but this situation? This was setting off every warning in her gut.

The stranger nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. They took a slow step forward, movements precise and deliberate, before pulling out a small, metallic device and placing it on the bar between them. "This is a secure channel. We talk here, and only here. No records, no traces. You've attracted a lot of attention, Sol. Not all of it bad, but enough that certain parties would rather see you disappear than leave you unchecked."

Sol glanced down at the device, then back up at the stranger, his smirk unfazed. "And which side are you on? The 'let's be friends' side, or the 'let's bury him six feet under' side?"

The stranger's lips curved ever so slightly. "That depends entirely on your answer."

Candy finally broke her silence, her voice edged with irritation. "I don't like this. Sol, whatever game you're playing, you might want to think twice before dealing with people who come in talking about 'certain parties.'"

Sol waved a dismissive hand. "Relax, Candy. If they were here to kill me, they wouldn't be standing around making conversation. Besides, I like a little mystery. Keeps life interesting."

Candy scowled but said nothing more, her frustration evident as she stepped away to give them space.

Sol turned his attention back to the stranger. "Alright. You've got my attention. Now tell me, who exactly are these 'certain parties'? And what do they want from me?"

The stranger pressed a button on the device, and a soft hum filled the air before a small projection flickered to life above it. A series of encrypted data strings, shifting and rearranging themselves as if being decoded in real time, appeared before them.

"DreamCorp isn't the only one looking for you," the stranger began. "But they are the most persistent. Your little escapades have made you a liability, and they don't like loose ends. However…"

They reached forward, tapping the projection. The data rearranged itself, showing a list of names—some familiar, some not. "There are others who see you as an opportunity. A wildcard that could tip the balance of power. They want to meet you, negotiate. Some want you as an ally, others want to see if you're a threat worth eliminating."

Sol's smirk widened. "Sounds like I'm getting popular. Should I start charging for appearances?"

The stranger remained expressionless. "You joke, but you underestimate what you've become. Right now, you're an unknown variable in a game that thrives on control. The way I see it, you have two options: disappear and let them write their own stories about you, or step forward and make sure you dictate the narrative yourself."

Sol tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Tempting. But that still doesn't answer my question. Where do you fall in all this?"

The stranger was silent for a moment before responding. "Let's just say… I'm here to offer you a third option. One that doesn't involve you running or submitting."

Sol arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Now you've got my attention."

The stranger reached into their coat and pulled out a sleek black card, sliding it across the counter toward him. "Meet me at this location tomorrow. Alone. No tricks, no illusions. Just a conversation. Do that, and I'll give you the full picture."

Sol picked up the card, flipping it between his fingers as he examined the engraved coordinates. "Mysterious. Dramatic. I like it."

The stranger nodded. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, they turned and strode out of the Cosmic Drift, leaving behind a thick silence. The tension in the bar didn't immediately lift, and Candy let out an exasperated sigh as she leaned against the counter.

"Sol," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "I really, really hate the people you attract."

Sol chuckled, slipping the card into his pocket as he downed the rest of his drink. "What can I say? I have a talent."

Candy shook her head, watching him carefully. "Are you actually going?"

Sol tapped the counter and stood, stretching lazily. "Haven't decided yet. But wouldn't it be rude to turn down such an interesting invitation?"

Candy didn't respond immediately, just gave him a long, unreadable look before sighing. "Just… don't get yourself killed, alright?"

---

The next day arrived like a slow jazz intro—soft neon bleeding into the artificial skyline, the hum of the city-ship's cycle shifting from simulated night into the hazy glow of dawn. The air felt thick with static, as if reality itself was stretching, waiting for the beat to drop. Sol made his way toward the meeting location, hands tucked in his pockets, his usual nonchalant smirk playing at his lips.

The coordinates led him to an abandoned docking bay on the outskirts of the Luminara District, a place where the air carried the quiet reverb of distant city sounds, like a song playing from another dimension. The neon lights here flickered lazily, as if the place existed between moments, caught in an eternal loop of almost being forgotten. It was a quiet place, far from the bustling trade centers and nightlife. The kind of place people met when they didn't want to be overheard. The dim blue overhead lights flickered, barely functioning, casting eerie shadows along the metal walls.

But he wasn't really worried. Sol lounged in the shadows of a nearby rooftop, the city's hum blending with the slow rhythm of his own heartbeat. Peach wiggled on his shoulder, paws twitching in time with some unheard melody. The real Sol was comfortably perched above the stage, watching the play unfold beneath him. His mirage stood in his place, poised under the flickering lights, a phantom dancing to the tune only he could hear. His mirage was the one standing at the meeting spot. While Sol might not worry much about everything, that didn't mean he was stupid enough to walk into a possible trap alone.

His fingers brushed the inside of his coat as he watched the scene unfold from a safe distance, lightly tapping peaches soft little head.

A subtle shift in the air made him pause. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Then, a familiar voice. "Punctual. I respect that."

Sol turned his head, eyes locking onto the figure emerging from the shadows. The same stranger from the bar, their posture relaxed but their gaze sharp, evaluating him once more.

"Figured I'd humor you," Sol replied, tilting his head. "You did go through all the trouble of finding me."

The stranger smirked, stepping closer. "And yet, you're alone. No backup? No hidden tricks?"

Sol shrugged. "Who knows?"

The casual response made the stranger hesitate, a flicker of unease crossing their features. They had expected bravado, perhaps even arrogance, but this level of indifference was unsettling.

The stranger's eyes narrowed as they took a measured step closer. "You have a lot of people looking for you, yet you're standing here as if none of it matters. Either you're very confident… or very foolish. Which is it?"

Sol appeared to consider the question, tilting his head slightly as if weighing his response. This seemed to please the stranger, who thought, for a moment, that Sol was taking their words seriously. But then, just as quickly, Sol shattered that expectation with a flat, almost dismissive response.

"Well, it's not like I really consider you guys a threat."

The words hung in the air, cold and matter-of-fact. The stranger's expression twitched, struggling to maintain composure, but there was no mistaking the brief flicker of irritation behind their carefully controlled mask. They hadn't expected arrogance, sure—but outright dismissal? That was new.

From his vantage point, the real Sol smirked, watching with amusement as his mirage played its part perfectly. This was a game of control, and he had no intention of letting this mysterious figure think they had the upper hand.

The stranger, still watching Sol's mirage with narrowed eyes, suddenly moved. It was swift—an attack meant to test, not to kill. A feint with one hand, a follow-up strike aimed at Sol's side. But it was pointless.

Sol's mirage effortlessly dodged, his movements precise, fluid. With his reflexes and his time affinity, an attack that sloppy would never reach him. The stranger pressed forward, launching another strike, then another. Each time, the mirage sidestepped with graceful ease. From afar, it almost looked like an intricate dance, one partner striking while the other glided away with practiced elegance.

The stranger's frustration became evident. They adjusted, switching to unpredictable movements, yet still, Sol's mirage was untouchable. After a few more failed attempts, the man finally stopped, breathing heavier now, his posture shifting as realization sank in.

He couldn't even graze him.

Sol sighed from his vantage point, watching the display with mild amusement before letting his mirage speak. "Are you done playing around?"

The stranger, still catching his breath, took another step back, his mind working rapidly. He had heard the rumors—Sol's abilities, his unnatural way of fighting without fighting—but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. There was no way this was normal. His instincts screamed that something was wrong.

Still, he wasn't about to back down. "We both know you're holding back. If you're serious about surviving what's coming, you'll hear me out in person. No tricks."

At that moment, a sigh echoed—not just from Sol's mirage, but from everywhere around the stranger. It sent a sharp chill down his spine. He immediately realized that the sound hadn't come from the Sol in front of him, but from the very space around him.

"This is getting boring," the voice resonated from all directions.

The stranger's pulse spiked. He turned sharply, eyes darting around. Then he saw it—Sol lifting his finger before snapping it. An unconscious step back. A flinch. He stopped himself, realizing how instinctively he had reacted. He had been warned to test Sol, even to push him enough to witness *that* dreaded nightmare snap. But to his surprise… nothing happened.

Then, like a record scratching out of tune, the world *shattered*. The skyline melted, the docking bay unraveled like a forgotten dream, and the universe itself twisted into something half-formed, surreal. The neon overheads pulsed to an unseen rhythm, and the ground beneath the stranger's feet cracked like a broken beat, looping endlessly in an off-kilter time signature.

It was as if space itself shattered like fragile glass. His surroundings warped and collapsed, reality bending in an impossible, dizzying display. The ground beneath his feet crumbled into an abyss, endless and consuming. He was no longer in the docking bay, no longer anywhere recognizable.

A deep, commanding voice boomed, vibrating through his skull, each syllable laced with undeniable weight. "This is your last chance to stop playing around and get to the point before I break your mind with the rest of this place."

The stranger spun, searching desperately for the source. And then he saw him.

Sol.

But not as he had been before.

He was colossal, a celestial conductor orchestrating a song only the cosmos could understand. His eyes, like twin swirling galaxies, bore into the stranger's soul, unraveling every thought, every fear, every hidden uncertainty with the precision of a perfect melody. The sheer magnitude of his presence was suffocating. There was nothing else—just Sol, those impossible, celestial eyes, and the shattering remnants of reality itself.

The stranger's breath hitched. His entire body trembled uncontrollably, his knees buckling under the immense pressure until he collapsed onto them. His mind screamed at him to move, to fight, but his body refused. He had never felt fear like this before.

For the first time in a long time, he knew what it meant to be prey.

The stranger attempted to fight back against the illusion, forcing himself to remember that none of this was real. But the sheer weight of Sol's presence crushed that fragile thought, drowning it beneath the overwhelming force of perception and power. He tried to speak, to demand an end to this, but his throat locked up, refusing to obey.

His instincts screamed at him to run, but his body remained frozen. Paralyzed by something deeper than fear—something primal.

The world around him continued to fracture, the shattered pieces of his reality floating aimlessly in the void. There was nothing to grasp, no stable ground beneath him. Just Sol. Just those piercing, starry eyes that bore into the depths of his soul.

Then, Sol's voice returned, softer this time but no less terrifying. "You came to test me. You failed. So now tell me—what does your boss really want?"

The illusion constricted, pressing down on him like invisible hands wrapped around his skull. It didn't touch him, yet it felt as though his very existence was unraveling. He had no choice. He had to answer.

Gasping for breath, he forced out the words. "They… They don't want to kill you. They want to recruit you."

Sol remained silent, watching him struggle. 

"They think you're valuable… but also dangerous," the stranger continued, each word wrenched from his throat. "They need to know which one outweighs the other."

The moment the final syllable left his lips, the suffocating pressure vanished. The illusion didn't fade—it shattered in reverse, the fragments of reality stitching themselves back together, piece by piece, until the docking bay returned to normal.

The stranger collapsed onto his hands and knees, panting heavily, his body drenched in sweat. His limbs trembled violently, muscles failing to obey as he struggled to process what had just happened. 

Slowly, he looked up at Sol's mirage, but now, he understood—Sol himself had never been standing there. He had been watching from the shadows the entire time.

Sol's voice, smooth as a late-night saxophone riff, drifted through the shattered air. It was casual, almost amused, but carried the weight of inevitability, like the final note of a song that had already decided its ending. "I'll give you one warning. Tell your boss I'm not interested in being owned. If they push me, they'll regret it."

Before the mirage vanished, it tilted its head slightly, casting a slow, knowing glance toward a dark alleyway. The motion was subtle, like a bassist plucking the last note of a smooth set—effortless, yet impossibly precise. And then—it smiled.

Far away, concealed in that very alley, a hidden information broker had been watching. Recording. He felt his heart drop the instant Sol's mirage looked in his direction.

He knew.

The broker shot up, his breath hitching as sheer terror took hold. He knew I was here the whole time. But how?

Panic overtook reason, and he bolted, sprinting away as fast as his legs would carry him. His mind raced, replaying what he had just witnessed. He still had no clue what had truly happened. One second, the man had attacked Sol, only for Sol to effortlessly glide through every strike. Then, the snap—the infamous move whispered about in fearful tones.

But this time, there were no screams, no desperate wails like the rumors had described. No. This time, the man had simply fallen to his knees, all color drained from his face, his eyes wide, empty, as though staring into the abyss itself.

The broker didn't need to see any more. He bolted, his heartbeat mismatching the rhythm of the city around him, a discordant note in a song far too big for him to understand. As he ran, one thought pulsed in his mind like a looping track—he knew. He always knew.