Arthur moved.
Not fast. Not slow. At a pace chosen to give him time to observe.
The streets of Skylandia were narrower here, hemmed in by leaning buildings that looked as though they had been frozen mid-collapse. Stone hovered inches above the ground in some places, while in others the road dipped sharply before rising again, warped by forces he did not yet understand. Arthur tested each step before committing his weight, adjusting without breaking stride.
The air carried a sharp, metallic scent. It clung to the back of his throat and reminded him of overheated machinery. Something about it set his nerves on edge. He filed the sensation away.
Screams echoed behind him.
Arthur did not turn.
He had already seen the source. A group of survivors clustered near the remnants of a storefront, shouting over one another, their movements frantic and inefficient. One of them kept glancing upward, eyes wide, as though expecting something to fall on them. Another clutched his arm, blood soaking through his sleeve.
They were loud. They were slow. They were already dead.
Arthur chose a path that took him away from them, stepping over a cracked stone slab that floated slightly off the ground. His foot adjusted instinctively to the lack of resistance. The world rewarded precision. He could feel it.
Above, the floating platforms drifted slowly, their shadows sliding across the street like silent warnings. Arthur tracked each one, measuring height, distance, angle. Some were close enough to reach with a running jump. Others were impossibly far. He memorized them anyway.
Movement flickered at the edge of his vision.
Arthur stopped.
Not abruptly. He let his momentum fade naturally, body settling into stillness. His breathing remained even. His gaze swept the street ahead, then up, then behind him using reflective surfaces in broken glass.
There.
On one of the higher platforms, the observer remained.
The man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, posture relaxed, eyes fixed on the streets below. He had not moved since Arthur last noticed him. That in itself was information. Someone who could remain still in a world like this was either confident or already powerful.
Arthur marked him as both.
He resumed walking, deliberately exposing himself to view. If the man intended to intervene, better now than later. No reaction came. Only observation.
Arthur turned down a narrow side street.
The walls closed in, blocking his view of the sky. Rubble choked the path, but there was a rhythm to it. A pattern. Arthur followed it, stepping where stone was solid and avoiding sections where the air shimmered strangely. Once, he brushed against an invisible resistance that bent slightly under his touch before snapping back into place. He withdrew his hand immediately.
Ahead, the street opened into a wide courtyard.
Arthur slowed.
The courtyard was wrong.
Fragments of the city floated at varying heights, suspended as if caught in a moment of explosion. Stone benches hovered at chest level. A broken fountain hung upside down, water frozen in a spiraling arc. The ground itself was mostly intact, though cracked in a circular pattern that drew the eye inward.
And at the center stood something that did not belong.
It was roughly humanoid in shape, but that was where the resemblance ended. Its body looked like it had been carved from layered stone and dark crystal, joints segmented in unnatural ways. Faint lines of pale light ran through its surface, pulsing slowly, like a heartbeat.
It was not moving.
It was waiting.
Arthur stopped at the edge of the courtyard.
Distance mattered. He gauged it quickly. Roughly twenty meters. Enough space to maneuver. Enough space to retreat if needed. He shifted his weight slightly, testing traction. The ground here felt firmer, more stable.
Behind him, footsteps echoed.
Arthur turned his head just enough to see a lone survivor stumble into the street. A young man, breathing hard, eyes darting wildly. He froze when he saw the courtyard and the figure within it.
"What is that?" the man whispered.
Arthur did not answer.
The creature's head turned.
The motion was smooth. Too smooth. Its gaze locked onto the survivor instantly. Arthur saw the change in posture, the subtle tightening of its stance.
The survivor screamed and ran.
Arthur watched him go.
The creature moved.
Not toward Arthur. Toward the fleeing man.
Its legs propelled it forward in a blur, covering distance faster than Arthur expected. Stone cracked beneath its feet. The survivor barely made it three steps before the creature caught him.
Arthur observed carefully.
The creature struck once. A single, precise motion. The man collapsed without another sound. No flourish. No hesitation. Efficiency.
Arthur exhaled slowly.
Information acquired.
The creature turned back toward the courtyard, then paused. Its head angled slightly, as if listening. Arthur had not moved. He had not made a sound. Still, the creature's gaze slid back to him.
So it could sense more than noise.
Arthur adjusted his stance.
He rolled his shoulders once, loosening tension, then stepped into the courtyard.
The floating fragments responded.
Several pieces of stone drifted closer together, narrowing paths and widening others. Arthur noted the change instantly. The environment reacted to the presence. Possibly to intent.
Good.
He moved laterally, circling rather than advancing directly. The creature mirrored him, maintaining distance. Its movements were controlled, deliberate. No wasted motion.
Arthur tested the space.
He stepped onto a raised slab, pushing off lightly. His body responded smoothly, balance adjusting faster than expected. He landed without sound. The creature tracked him, head following every shift.
Arthur felt a familiar clarity settle in.
Fear did not touch him. Only focus.
He scanned the creature again, noting the pattern of light beneath its surface. The rhythm. The way it flared slightly when the creature moved. There was a center to it. A core, perhaps. He filed that thought away.
From above, a faint sound carried through the air.
Arthur did not look up, but he knew.
The observer was still there.
Watching.
Arthur took another step forward.
The creature lowered its stance.
The distance closed.
This was the moment.
Arthur's muscles tensed, every calculation aligning, every possibility narrowing to action.
The first fight in Skylandia was about to begin.