Several figures suddenly surfaced above the Endless Sea, like ink strokes cutting across a pale sky.

They were Yumigawa Nozomi, Yumigawa Senki, and Elyar, fresh from leaving the Central Continent, wind-scent still on their clothes.

“Elyar, what’s going on? This is the Endless Sea—where’s the Eastern Moon Continent?” Her voice carried a chill like a wave before storm-break.

Looking down at that boundless blue, Senki felt a bad omen rise like cold tide in her chest.

“Appear—Aerucia Bird!”

Nozomi called forth her elemental sprite, and the three settled onto the Aerucia Bird’s broad, cloud-soft back.

“O Littlesky, thou hast done well.” Elyar’s praise fell light as dew, then her gaze swept the void, brow tightening like a knot in silk. “This space is sealed, so my spatial movement cannot reach the Eastern Moon Continent.”

“Mm. Seems that way.” Senki nodded, moonlight whispering as she drew the slender sword at her hip.

“Qianji Sister, why’d you pull your sword all of a sudden?” Nozomi blinked, confusion drifting like mist.

“Littlesky, a sealed domain screams of a human hand. I don’t know who, but we’re clearly the target.” Her words were steady as a stone pier in surf.

Then to Elyar: “Keep Littlesky safe.”

“Thou needst not say it. I know.” Her reply was firm as an old pine in winter wind.

“Good.” Senki’s eyes swept the horizon, vigilance sharp as a hawk over dark water.

“They’re here!”

Space shuddered like a drum struck in the void.

Dozens of angels flared into being—wings bright as snowfall, spears silver-white—each a Sacred Realm presence or higher. The weakest sat mid-tier; the strongest touched the Holy Peak.

“Angels of the Godrealm? Why come hither?” Elyar’s displeasure rippled like frost over glass.

“Kill!”

They offered no answer, only lifted their spears and surged forward like a storm of arrows.

“Looks like they’re here to trouble us. Elyar, guard Littlesky.” Senki’s body flickered like wind slicing silk; she vanished, then reappeared before the host.

Her knee-high boots held steady in the emptiness, as if the void itself were firm earth beneath her feet.

“Attack!”

Seeing her appear, the angels hesitated not; spears thrust in a rain that sought to pierce bamboo and cloud alike.

“I don’t know what you want, but if it’s a fight, I’m always game.” Excitement lit her eyes, a spark in night wind.

“Wind Sword Art: Blade Tornado!”

Her slender blade swept, and an azure tornado roared out from her center, a dragon of wind unwinding to the horizon.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The blue whirlwind batted every strike aside, then shoved the angels back several meters like leaves before a gale.

“Madness indeed—to face dozens of Sacred Realm angels alone.” Elyar sighed, helpless as moonlight in waves, the sight both fierce and forlorn.

“Elyar, let’s hurry and help Qianji Sister.” Nozomi leaned forward, ready to guide the Aerucia Bird like a swift over tide, but Elyar’s hand rose.

“Nay. Watch well. Yumigawa Senki is strong—like a cliff above tide—and won’t fall in short order.”

“Oh. Okay.” Nozomi nodded and sat, a sparrow alighting on a quiet branch.

“Form up!”

The angels spread and closed, a ring circling Senki like a tightening halo.

“Angel Rift-Slaying Formation!”

The leader lifted his spear, silver light flowing like moonwater, and lunged with sky-splitting speed.

The rest raised spears too, wings beating like thunder heads rolling toward rain.

“Ice Sword Art: Thousand-League Freeze!”

Frost bloomed along Senki’s blade; the air’s warmth fell away like leaves in first frost.

She swung again—no tornado this time, but layers of rime unfurling, frost radiating from her like winter breath, sealing the very space.

“Fire spears!”

Flames poured from the angels’ silver lances, fire licking like hungry tigers at a frozen lake. They didn’t dodge; they stabbed straight into the frost.

Sss…

Ice thinned like melting glass; fire guttered like embers in snow.

Moments later, frost vanished and flames died, and the spears returned to bare silver-white, cold as starlight.

“Aren’t Magic Sword Wielders supposed to be weak? Then why are you so strong?” The angels halted; the leader’s surprise cracked like thin ice over a river.

“Because most Magic Sword Wielders never fused magic into swordcraft, nor raised both to true height. Weakness follows like a shadow.” Senki’s smile curved like a crescent moon. “But you’re weaker—so many angels, yet you can’t come within a single meter.”

“Hmph. Don’t get cocky. That was only a probe. Now comes the true strike.” The leader’s cold smile gleamed like iron in winter sun as he lifted his spear.

“Pierce the enemy’s heart—Spear of World-Annihilation!”

A white-glowing magic circle spun beneath his feet, another opened before him—sigils like dawn gates and pale moons.

“Go!”

He hurled the spear through the circle, a comet shot through a ring of light.

“What—this is—” Danger bit Senki’s chest like an icy blade; the void quaked as if the sea of sky itself were shivering.

“Light-Dark Twin Sword Arts: Dance of Light and Shadow!”

She drew a deep breath, gripped her blade, and swung with all her strength, day and night braided into one arc.

!!!

The world shed its colors; only black and white remained—black for shadow, white for dawn—two opposed tides pouring into a single river.

No force, no strain—only nature flowing—as if light and darkness had always been one since ancient days.

Ten seconds later, black and white faded like mist at sunrise, and color returned to heaven and sea.

“…”

The angels stood stunned, words lost like feathers in wind.

The one who’d thrown the spear had vanished; the spear too was gone—both erased, scattered like ash under Senki’s last strike.

…