Week 3: Spectral Skirmish

The geometric patterns of reality fractured and reformed as Houston Finch raised his disc, the Fractal Revenant's power coursing through his form. Each movement left cascading echoes in the air, turning simple practice throws into reality-bending exhibitions of corruption's growing influence.

From my vantage point among the stars, I, Orion Starchaster, watched with growing concern. The sacred grounds of Teddy's Playground had already been scarred by Nyx's initial assault, and now Houston's connection to the Fractal Revenant threatened to tear open new wounds in the fabric of our realm.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Nyx's voice crackled with neon energy as she materialized beside Houston. "How the patterns multiply, each iteration more perfect than the last." Her transformed arm pulsed with corrupt power, sending waves of distortion across the fairway.

I descended on a beam of starlight, my presence steadying the turbulent energies. "Perfect is not the word I would choose, old friend. What you call perfection, I see as degradation."

Houston's next throw split into fractal patterns, each ghost disc carrying a fragment of corrupt intent. The Fractal Revenant manifested around him, a cascading geometry of neon-tainted possibilities. "We remake reality with each reformation," the entity spoke through Houston, its dissonant harmonics warping the air.

"The spirits of this place remember their true nature," I cautioned, channeling celestial energy to create protective barriers. "They will not easily submit to your corruption."

Nyx laughed, the sound shattering through multiple dimensions. "Oh, Orion. Still clinging to the old ways. The spirits are already changing. Houston, show him."

Houston lifted his bag tag, and the Fractal Revenant's power surged. The spirits of Teddy's Playground emerged, but they were twisted now, their once-pure forms corrupted by geometric patterns of neon energy. Each spirit's flight path became a recursive nightmare, creating a maze of unstable reality zones.

"Your precious order is an illusion," Nyx taunted. "Every spirit we convert proves the truth - chaos is the natural state of power."

I stood firm as the corrupted spirits swirled around us. "You mistake transformation for destruction, Nyx. These spirits aren't converting - they're crying out for help."

The Fractal Revenant's patterns intensified through Houston, trying to overwhelm my defenses. But with each recursive assault, I caught glimpses of something unexpected - microscopic imperfections in the fractals, tiny rebellions against the corruption's perfect symmetry.

"Look closer, Houston," I urged. "The Revenant's patterns aren't growing stronger - they're becoming unstable. Perfect recursion is impossible in a realm built on free will."

For a moment, doubt flickered across Houston's face as the fractals surrounding him wavered. But Nyx was there instantly, her neon energy reinforcing the patterns. "Ignore his lies. Feel the power growing with each iteration. Soon, all of Teddy's Playground will resonate with our perfect geometry."

The battle that followed bent reality itself. Houston's throws, empowered by the Fractal Revenant, created cascading corridors of corruption that threatened to permanently alter the course's spiritual landscape. But each time the patterns tried to set, the inherent chaos of their own recursion caused them to collapse.

"This isn't over, Orion," Nyx snarled as she pulled Houston back through a fractal breach. "We'll return when the patterns have evolved beyond your comprehension."

As they vanished, I reached out to the wounded spirits of Teddy's Playground. Though corrupted, I could still sense their original essence beneath the geometric distortions. The real battle, I realized, wasn't just for control of the course - it was for the very nature of transformation itself.

Above us, the sky rippled with conflicting energies - pure starlight and corrupt neon wrestling for dominance. Somewhere in the cosmic deep, Teddy stirred, and I wondered if even the cosmic deity recognized its realm anymore.

"The patterns may multiply," I whispered to the troubled spirits, "but the heart of things remains constant. Remember your true nature, and no corruption, no matter how perfect its geometry, can truly claim you."