Vyrinox, frustrated but resolute, settled into a cross-legged posture as the swirling energies of warped space shimmered around him.
His eyes narrowed and his breath steadied. Slowly, he extended his senses outward.
His mind—razor-sharp and honed by eons of mastery over the Law of Deception—began to peel back the the phenomena of stretching of space, in his mind he perceived them as layers of illusion.
"This space isn't infinitely stretching," he realized. "Though the distortions are challenging, they are not absolute. They bend the framework of reality, not break it."
His gaze shifted to Vastoth, seated in meditation before the Space Monolith, his form radiating unwavering focus.
He knew better than to force his way through the distorted terrain; directly navigating the stretched layers of space was beyond even him.
Instead, he decided to use his skillful deception and analytical mind to find a new way—one different from Vastoth's method.
He studied the subtle distortions in space radiating from Vastoth's body. "He's countering the monolith's laws with his own," he deduced.
"But what if I don't need to oppose the laws at all?" Vyrinox's devious smile widened, and his serpentine eyes gleamed with anticipation.
He felt the weight of his plan pressing down on him, a mix of exhilarating risk and tantalizing reward. "If this works," he mused, "I'll rise above my current standing and seize my place among the highest echelons of my kin."
However, the threat of failure hung heavily over him, clear and relentless. Making an enemy of Vastoth, a being with mastery over the laws of space and an unyielding stubbornness, into a bitter enemy was a risk he could not afford to overlook.
Still, Vyrinox thrived on risk. His mind churned, calculating. "It's a gamble," he muttered, voice steady despite the stakes. "But the greatest victories often come from the boldest moves."
His hand hovered over his chest, feeling the faint pulse of his deceptive laws intertwining with his essence.
He then whispered to himself, almost as if trying to convince himself, "Illusion becomes truth when wielded with purpose. Vastoth's strength lies in comprehension, but I will twist perception itself into my weapon."
He glanced briefly toward Vastoth, who sat wholly engrossed before the monolith, his form that of focus and determination.
For a moment, doubt flickered in his mind, but his insatiable greed and ambition quickly snuffed it out.
"The path to the top is never free of enemies," he mused, smile curling back. "If Vastoth becomes one, so be it. Power demands sacrifice."
He took a steady breath and readied himself to enact his intricate plan. But before moving forward, he decided to study the phenomenon more closely.
Minutes passed as he watched with silent intensity. Guided by his mastery of the Law of Deception, he uncovered a truth hidden behind the veil of chaos—a pattern invisible to the naked eye, yet clear through the lens of illusion.
His sharp eyes detected faint warps in the flow of space—minute irregularities that exposed the deception at play.
"The space isn't stretching on its own," he murmured, astonishment sparking in his voice.
His eyes narrowed further as he traced the invisible threads of spatial laws. "It stretches for the observer. Perception defines the gap. The more one believes in the distance, the more real it becomes."
A smile spread across his face, wicked and triumphant. "This isn't a barrier of distance; it's a mirror reflecting perception. And perception can be manipulated."
Vyrinox took cautious and measured steps forward, his gaze locked on the monolith. Each step only seemed to push the monolith farther away, as though mocking his efforts.
No matter how much ground he thought he had covered, the distance reset itself, stretching endlessly.
Growing more curious than frustrated, he extended a hand, gathering a small shard of his energy.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent it hurtling toward the monolith. It seemed to travel as expected for a moment, a faint trail of shimmering energy marking its path.
But then it slowed, faltering mid-air. The shard floated, caught in the warped tension of space itself, and hovered there as if bound by invisible threads.
His eyes narrowed, watching intently as the shard pulsated faintly before becoming completely suspended.
Around it, the fabric of space writhed, ripples and bends intertwining into a silent, spectral barricade.
"So," he muttered, stepping back slightly. "The space here doesn't just stretch. It reacts. it traps and it holds even energy itself in suspension."
He stroked his chin thoughtfully, his mind racing as he pieced together what he had seen. "It's not the distance I'm fighting," he realized. "It's the space itself, twisting and rewriting its rules with every movement I make." A faint smirk tugged at his lips as the beginnings of a new plan formed.
"This isn't a battle of strength. It's a battle of perception and believe … and that is my domain."
Using this realization, he devises a plan he calls shifting perception; this plan isn't about trying to traverse the space physically.
He would wielded Deception not as a veil, but as a mirror, altering the space's perception of him until the illusion of distance was broken.
"If space reacts to perception, then I shall give it something to perceive," Vyrinox muttered with a sly smirk.
He extended his hand, summoning drops of his blood. The black droplets hovered above his palm briefly before he flicked them toward the monolith.
After flying for seconds the drops stopped moving forward within the zone of the stretching of space, he then transformed them mid-flight into an illusionary presence of himself.
The illusionary figures materialized at several key points between his position and the monolith, their forms indistinguishable from his own.
Each radiated his aura flawlessly, deceiving the very fabric of the monolith's perception, tricking it into believing the gap had already been crossed.
Reacting to the perceived progress, the space phenomenon eased its relentless stretching at each anchor point.
He smiled, his body shimmering faintly as he activated his innate ability, "Shift." With a flicker, he exchanged places with the nearest illusionary presence, instantly cutting the distance between himself and the monolith.
He shifted positions several times, and with each adjustment, he got closer to the monolith.
Now, only 500 meters separated him from his goal.
Had Vastoth seen how he covered the vast distance so effortlessly, he would have screamed, "Cheating! "
Fortunately for him, Vastoth remained deeply immersed in his comprehension of the monolith, oblivious to the cunning strategy behind him.
He stood still momentarily, his breathing calm despite the exhilaration coursing through him. His eyes locked onto the towering monolith.
The final stretch awaited, and he could feel the solidity of space stretching was becoming increasingly difficult.
Vyrinox threw drops of his blood again toward the monolith, he watched them as they arced through the distorted space.
This time, the drops seemed to cover even less distance than before, as if the monolith resisted his progress. Despite this setback, he remained undeterred, his mind racing with strategies.
Progress came slow, painstaking, but faster by far than Vastoth's meditative crawl.
He was the cunning hare sprinting past the law-bound tortoise. Yet with every meter gained, the strain deepened, the space groaning under the weight of deception.
When he approached 80 meters of the monolith, the space seemed to push back harder than ever before.
The monolith emitted a faint hum, as if aware of his presence and intent, and vibrations resonated in the air—a subtle warning that he was encroaching upon something sacred.
He gritted his teeth and felt beads of sweat on his brow as the stretching of space became almost unbearable. "It's resisting me," he growled, his voice laced with frustration and excitement. "But even resistance has its limits."
He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then his lips curved into a devious grin. "It's time," he said confidently. With a sharp gesture, he activated his trump card—his greatest deception.
The air around him shimmered and bent like heat waves over a scorching desert. In an instant, Vyrinox's presence multiplied into countless indistinguishable clones, each mimicking his movements, expressions, and energy signatures.
The clones scattered across the warped terrain. Some advanced steadily toward the monolith while others froze mid-space, suspended like bait in the stretching void.
The result was deliberate chaos—a swirling storm of conflicting presences that overwhelmed the monolith's senses. The monolith began to hum louder, its deep resonance vibrating through the very fabric of space.
Distortions rippled outward like tidal waves. Space itself trembled and bent in sharp, unpredictable pulses.
Beneath the veil of his deception, Vyrinox moved with meticulous care. Each step forward was calculated, and the path behind him dissolved into fragments of fractured space. The clones bore the full force of the monolith's wrath, shielding his true form from detection.
As he approached the final meters, the air became viscous, the weight of distorted laws bearing down on his humanoid frame like a mountain.
The monolith's hum deepened, becoming not just a sound, but a pressure that vibrated through his bones and thoughts.
Yet Vyrinox did not falter.
A cold grin crept across his face. "Vastoth might call this cheating," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with cunning. "But all victories are fair in the name of survival, and that is the only law that matters."