“You’re no match for her. She’s too strong.”
Yun Shi tried one last warning, her voice like frost over still water.
But the next moment left her speechless, like a sparrow stunned mid-flight.
Whoosh!
Shatter!
Andrea drew her saber and swept it; a crescent of blade-qi flew like moonlight.
Rebecca kicked once, and the arc broke like glass on stone.
“So it’s true. She’s strong.”
Andrea sheathed her blade with a faint motion, calm as dusk settling.
“You think I’d make up lies?”
Yun Shi’s tone was cold, like wind through winter reeds; no one proved truth like that.
“Just a personal probe.”
Andrea’s reply was light, like a leaf drifting; no apology in sight.
Mizuki gave Yun Shi a helpless smile, a placating lantern in mist, then walked forward.
Rebecca watched the girl approach and smiled, like a hunter seeing a familiar trail.
“Second Soul Artifact.”
She named Mizuki’s identity, words falling like pebbles into a quiet pond.
This Second Soul Artifact’s origin ran opposite to hers, like river against river.
From the Outer World—chosen by an Artifact Spirit—still not to be underestimated.
Nerves fluttered in Mizuki’s chest like moths at a lamp.
That girl had crushed one powerhouse after another; even the Night Phantom had fallen.
How many exchanges could Mizuki survive under that storm?
No real chance, like a candle in gale, yet she had no choice.
“Form Three, Reaper Scythe!”
A violet gloom poured toward Rebecca like night fog seeking to swallow the moon.
Rebecca smiled, unbothered, like stone under rain.
Shatter!
As expected, the strike vanished like dew at dawn.
“Form One, Black Iron Wings!”
Mizuki’s wings unfurled, iron-dark like stormclouds, and she shot skyward like an arrow.
From above, she hewed down the scythe; violet breath fell like meteors.
Rebecca rolled aside, a cat through reeds, and eyed the circling Mizuki with a flicker of annoyance.
“Don’t think air saves you.”
She flicked a dart skyward; it hunted like a hawk, chained to Mizuki’s shadow.
Mizuki whirled the scythe, sparks like fireflies, but couldn’t knock it away; fatigue gnawed like rust.
“She’s draining you. End it, Mizuki!”
Elena the Weapon Spirit urged, her voice a bell in fog.
Mizuki nodded, focus hardening like ice.
“Form Null, Absolute Defense!”
A sphere wrapped her like a pearl in shell; the dart slammed true, then tumbled like a stone losing spin.
Rebecca smiled without a word, stirring Mystic Power like embers under ash.
Cracks split the floor beneath her feet like dry earth in drought.
She stamped, and the sprung ground launched her skyward like a coiled spring.
“Don’t think I can’t deal with you. I said that.”
She laughed, riding the leap, reaching Mizuki’s height like lightning to a tree.
Shatter!
Her body brushed the barrier, and it dissolved like spider silk in flame.
The void dropped under Mizuki’s feet; her balance vanished like sand, and she fell.
Mystic Power fled; wind roared past like a river; even her voice froze in her throat.
“Mizuki!”
Elena the Weapon Spirit’s cry rang at her ear like bronze on stone.
Not yet. Don’t yield.
“Reaper Scythe!”
Boom!
The earth erupted—dust billowed like storm, gravel spat like hail, and the arena vanished in rolling sand.
“Senior Mizuki!”
“She’s fine.”
Andrea’s cool reply was a steady hand, easing Moa’s panic like tea warming cold fingers.
Andrea was right. Mizuki had driven the Reaper Scythe into the ground, bracing the impact like a stake against flood.
She was caked in dust, battered as a fallen sparrow; iron rose in her throat, and she spat blood.
The fall hadn’t killed her, but the shock bit deep like winter.
Rebecca landed, smiling, sunlight on steel.
“Still fighting?”
Absurdly strong, Mizuki thought, awe like tide under ribs.
She pushed to her feet, resolve a blade drawn.
“Form Four, Demon Eagle!”
Elana became a demon eagle, a sky-cry ripping cloud; talons flashed like silver storms.
Wings hammered air, and she dove for Rebecca like thunder chasing fire.
“Stop. That won’t work!”
Moa’s shout cracked the air like a thrown stone.
Shatter!
Too late. In Rebecca’s hands, the eagle’s form unraveled like smoke.
As Rebecca finished, Mizuki lunged with a dagger, the thrust a viper under grass.
Rebecca startled and flipped away, a reed bending from wave.
Her kick sent the blade flying like a star; she stepped in and locked Mizuki with joint skill, iron on silk.
That small detail didn’t escape Yun Shi’s eyes, keen as a falcon’s…
Whoosh!
Shatter!
A streak of sword-qi flew; Rebecca’s kick erased it like chalk on slate.
She turned, and there stood Andrea with her sword, still as a pine in snow.
“You did well. You’ve improved.”
Andrea’s tone to her student was cool water; time to switch.
Mizuki read the moment, tucked Elana away, and retreated like shadow at dusk.
“You want me, Swordmaster?”
“I don’t like how you treat my student.”
Andrea’s reply was steel under velvet.
Two figures clashed across the open ground, a dance of blades under a pale sky.
Footwork—chaotic yet rhythmic—like rain tapping drums.
Swordplay—elusive—like moonlight on ripples.
Speed—erratic—like swallows veering; that was Andrea’s Sword Dance.
For Rebecca, it was work—stones in the stream.
“She’s strong too,” Yun Shi said, eyes narrowed like slits against sun.
“But she absolutely can’t win.”
Shatter!
The outcome spoke itself, like thunder after flash.
Andrea still fell.
No ability mattered; in front of Rebecca, everything turned to ash.
Andrea rarely frowned, but now her brows knotted like twisted cords; she guarded, senses razor-sharp.
This foe was too strong; her proud Sword Dance had been dismantled like a tapestry torn.
It was one-sided ravaging, not a fair duel—though the Underworld was never fair, like night without constellations.
“That’s about enough.”
Rebecca murmured, as if waiting for a tide to arrive.
!
“Oh no!”
Yun Shi tried to call a retreat, but the moment had already closed like a trap.
A dark crowd flowed in from beyond the field, black as crows, forming a ring that penned them in.
Weapons glinted like teeth; their approach was fierce as surf.
Yun Shi faced the turn, helpless as grass in storm.
Rebecca wore a proud look, a crescent of triumph carving her face.
