Zetterburn slammed into it. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the mud. The lion roared, claws scrabbling against the psychic barrier, his heat so intense that the air inside Ness’s shield grew sticky and hot. Sweat beaded on Ness’s forehead.
"You're wrong," Ness said, his voice steadier than he felt. He lowered the bat, pointing its splintered tip at the prince. "I’m not bullying anyone. I’m just trying to get home."
"Fragile!" Zetterburn snarled, raking his claws across the shield. Green sparks flew. "Just like all your kind!"
Zetterburn laughed, a sound like a landslide of hot coals. "Home? This is your home now. Ash and bone." rivals of aether ness
"I don't want to hurt you," Ness said, and meant it. "I just want to go home. So either you help me find a way back to that rift… or I'll learn exactly how much fire it takes to melt a glacier. Your choice."
The lion prince of the Fire Armada wasn't just a rival. He was a cataclysm. His fur was a cascade of dying embers, his mane a roaring inferno that warped the air around his scarred muzzle. Every time he exhaled, a puff of superheated ash and contempt billowed towards Ness.
Zetterburn stumbled forward, off-balance for a heartbeat. It was all Ness needed. He didn’t think. He acted . A lifetime of batting practice and fighting possessed moles took over. He swung the Louisville Slugger not at Zetterburn’s head, but at his front paws. Zetterburn slammed into it
The psychic cryo-blast erupted from his forehead, a needle-thin lance of absolute zero. It wasn't the wide, powerful blizzard he used on Starmen. It was a surgical strike, honed by desperation.
"You're lost, little boy," Zetterburn growled, his voice the sound of a collapsing forge. He flexed a claw, and a corona of fire licked up his forearm. "This isn't Onett. There are no weak, sentient animals here for you to bully with your mind."
It caught Zetterburn in the open mouth.
Ness tightened his grip. The psychic pulse of this strange, elemental world was a chaotic drumbeat compared to the steady hum of Eagleland. His PSI felt… muffled. Sluggish. Like trying to shout through a pillow. But the fire in Zetterburn’s eyes was real. The heat on his cheek was real. And the quiet, desperate courage that had made him face Giygas was still real, too.
Ness lowered his hand. He was trembling, his nose bleeding from the strain of focusing PSI in this alien place. He held the broken remains of his bat like a spear.
A rival.
"PK... Freeze."