My Infinite System.

Marc nearly had his head cleaved off by some manifestation for staring at Lucian too long

He crushed the thing out of existence with a vicious twist of space and immediately pushed back toward the center, blood running freely from his nose and a cut above his eye. The rise was chaos, Lucy’s hellflame roaring in wide destructive arcs,Outer God forms shedding and reforming under Vyn’s inverted laws, Silas and Reia holding a collapsing left through pure violence and telepathic sabotage,Evelyn fighting like a drawn blade on her line, still separate, still furious, Lirael remaining locked near Lucian, pale light fracturing around every exchange

None of it mattered as much to Marc in that moment as the words still hanging in the air.

He slammed a gravity well into a pair of constructs hard enough to fold them into the stone, then shouted across the gap

”What do you mean you can’t?”

Lucian broke Lirael’s containment surge and drove her back two steps without looking over. ”Later.”

”Later?” Marc barked out a laugh that had no humor in it. ”There may not be later. Look around you.”

An Outer God form forced itself up between them, body a mass of shifting density and half made faces. Lucian hit it first, a clean brutal impact that staggered the thing. Marc finished the motion by rewriting the space inside its core until it collapsed into dead matter and fading pressure.

”I’m looking,” Lucian said.

”Then stop pretending this is sustainable.” Marc’s voice was raw. ”We’re stronger than we’ve ever been and we’re still getting buried. You felt it. I felt it. Whatever you’re keeping leashed, now’s the time.”

Lucian met another strike from Lirael, turned it, answered with force that cracked the crest under her feet. ”I said I’ll explain later.”

”That’s not good enough.”

”It has to be.”

A specialist squad tried to exploit the argument and died for the mistake. Evelyn cut one down from the side without entering their conversation. Lucy’s hellflame washed across the lower approach and bought the center a breath of space that vanished almost immediately under fresh Outer God pressure.

Marc wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his wrist, staring at his brother through the haze.

He knew Lucian’s tells, the set of the shoulders, the way his power sat tightly contained even when he was tearing through enemies that should have required more. There was a ceiling Lucian was choosing not to break or could not break and the distinction was starting to feel academic under the weight coming up the slope.

Marc exhaled hard through his teeth.

”Fine.”

Lucian glanced at him at last. ”Marc--”

”You owe me one for what I’m about to do.”

Then Marc stopped holding his power in the careful combat efficient shapes he usually favored.

The effect was immediate.

Reality around the right flank flexed like a muscle under strain, not a simple gravity shear or a lane collapse but something deeper. Marc pressed his will out and the local structure of the battlefield answered him like raw material. Stone rose and hardened into barriers that should not have existed, wounded sections of the crest mending themselves mid fight under impossible geometry. An Outer God manifestation driving toward Lucy suddenly found the space around it rewritten into a prison of folded distance and hostile constant values, its form straining as the rules binding it thickened into concrete limits.

Silas flinched as the air changed density around him, then grinned through blood when the construct he was fighting locked in place under Marc’s altered constants. ”About time!”

Reia’s eyes widened a fraction as the enemy coordination net became easier to poison inside the newly stabilized field. Vyn sucked in a breath as local magic stopped fighting her quite so hard, Marc’s reality work giving her laws cleaner edges to hold onto.

Lirael felt it too, her head snapping toward Marc, pale light flaring.

”Anomalous structural rewrite--”

Lucian was already moving to keep her off him.

Marc did not waste the opening on theatrics. He pushed harder.

Across a wide slice of the rise, the battle changed shape. Outer God lesser forms that had been shedding damage by altering their own continuity suddenly found continuity enforced, specialists using containment formulas based on older field assumptions watching those formulas fail as Marc replaced the assumptions underneath them. A whole advance lane became a dead corridor of reversed momentum where attackers staggered backward under their own charge.

The cost hit him like a hammer, blood pouring from his nose, his vision narrowing at the edges. Reality warping on this scale was not a parlor trick even for him, taking everything he had and asking for more. His knees threatened to buckle, he locked them and kept rewriting.

”Move!” he snarled at the others, ”I can’t hold this forever!”

Team Zero moved with him.

Lucy drove hellflame through the corridors Marc stabilized, the fire landing with even more finality where his enforced constants stopped the enemy from slipping away around it. Vyn seized the cleaner magical structure and turned whole sections of hostile pressure into dead zones. Reia threaded catastrophic misorders through the disrupted command lines. Silas and Evelyn used the breaks in enemy cohesion to cut down anything still pushing upward.

Lucian stayed on Lirael but the reduced support around her showed. Without the full chaos of unconstrained Outer God forms filling every gap, her precision had less to hide inside. Lucian pressed her harder, blow by blow, forcing her toward the lower edge of the crest.

Marc dropped to one knee, still not releasing the rewrite.

An Outer God manifestation tried to punch through his enforced structure by main power. For a moment the thing made progress, its bulk distorting the new constants through sheer mass of presence. Marc bared his teeth, planted one hand on the stone and pushed back.

”No.”

The constants held. The manifestation screamed as its form was forced to obey continuity long enough for Lucy to burn a whole through it.

Marc’s ears rang, his pulse felt wrong in his neck, somewhere behind the roar of battle he was pretty sure he had just spent something he would not get back quickly if at all.

Lucian slammed Lirael back another three steps then risked a glance toward him.

”Marc.”

”I said you owe me,” Marc forced out, his smile a bloody mess. ”Don’t waste it.”

Lucian’s expression tightened. For a second something complicated moved behind his eyes, gratitude, anger, frustration, the weight of the earlier refusal, then he turned back into the fight and used the hole Marc had bought with full commitment.

The Outer Gods responded to the shift with heavier pressure, vast attention leaning harder into the rise as if offended by the attempt to impose local rules on their presence. Fresh manifestations began forcing their way up the slope. Lirael recovered enough of her stance to start issuing sharp, precise commands again.

But for the moment, the crest had breathing room that had not existed minutes before.

Team Zero used it with the desperation of people who understood the price.

Evelyn cut through a disrupted specialist line without looking at either brother. Lucy planted herself like a furnace at the interior. Reia and Silas reset the left. Vyn held onto the cleaner laws Marc had forced into being and worked them until her fingers cramped.

Marc remained on one knee, hands braced against the stone, keeping the rewrite alive through will alone.

”Later,” he muttered toward Lucian’s back, voice hoarse. ”You’re going to explain what ’can’t’ means. And it’s going to be good.”

Lucian did not answer.

He was already meeting Lirael again in the center, using every inch of ground Marc’s power had bought, still not unleashing whatever he continued to hold back.

Above the rise, the Outer Gods pressed closer.

Below it, the rewritten battlefield strained under their weight.

Marc closed his eyes for half a second, tasted blood, and kept holding the world in the shape he needed it to keep.

Whatever Lucian could not do, Marc was already doing the part that would cost him.

The fight went on.