“Mm, this should be enough,” she murmured, like counting a storm of locusts spilling from a hellgate.

When the undead, demons, and beasts pouring from the Gate of Hell hit ten million, Blackflame halted the call, as if slamming shut a furnace at dusk.

Ten million was the threshold Egisia Academy could hide, a fog over a marsh; any more, and the smoke would draw eyes from beyond the walls.

If the Eastern Moon Empire sent reinforcements, the tide would turn at once, a cost heavier than iron.

“Then I’ll summon a Divine Realm–class demon… what—!”

A whoosh like a hawk’s dive carved past her cheek, a Sword Aura scything air so cold her skin bloomed a thin line of red.

The blade didn’t strike, yet the wind it bore sheared a few strands of hair, white as shed frost, drifting silent as ash.

It wasn’t the cut that froze her heart, but the power coiled within that Sword Aura, an abyss deeper than any night.

“What power is this?! Why does it feel more terrifying than standing before the God King?” she whispered, breath a trapped sparrow.

Her face went pale as winter clay; she trembled and turned, eyes seeking the direction that gust came from, like a deer catching scent.

She saw a girl with snow-white hair, a beauty so pure it stopped breath like thin ice closing over a lake.

Blackflame snapped back, because the girl was smiling at her, yet her silver eyes held no warmth, only moonlight without mercy.

The silver-eyed girl spoke, voice like a skylark at dawn, clear enough to make a soul drift, yet edged like frost on steel.

“Summon all the low-grade cannon fodder you want; I won’t bother,” she said, calm as still water. “But summon a Divine Realm ant, and bear the cost.”

The sound was heavenly as a zither in spring, yet Blackflame heard the killing intent beneath, a chill wind under blossoms.

She believed it without doubt: if she moved to call a Divine Realm demon, she’d be killed in a blink, like a candle in a gale.

“…”

Fear pooled heavy as tar; she didn’t dare twitch, didn’t dare breathe, like a child facing a ghost under a moonless eave.

Her body locked, a rabbit under a hunter’s shadow, unable to run though the forest lay wide.

“Looks like Egisia Academy’s going to bleed this time,” Xinuo said, voice light as drifting snow, eyes already moving on like a passing cloud.

Seeing Blackflame frozen in midair like a statue of soot, Xinuo withdrew her gaze, unwilling to waste breath on a falling leaf.

It was Xinuo who had sent that warning, a thunderclap before rain; Divine Realm demons were gnats to her, crushed with a finger.

But for the students of Egisia Academy, such demons were mountains on their backs, weight enough to break bone.

If a Divine Realm demon appeared, the fight between Yumigawa Sumeragi and Nareinya would end like a cut thread, and the chance for Sword Intent would vanish like dew.

For that reason, Xinuo would allow no ripple to disturb him, no wind to scatter a forming flame.

“But my Servant, honestly,” she sighed, warm as sun through leaves. “He had Hill protect him and let Hill get hurt.”

She looked down at Hill asleep in her arms, breath soft as a kitten, and helplessness rose like mist over water.

“Poor Hill,” she whispered, fingers pinching his serene cheek, a gentle smile unfolding like a petal.

“Mm. I’m free for now. Breakfast.”

She brought out the breakfast she hadn’t touched and a table with chairs, ordinary wood under an extraordinary sky.

So Xinuo ate in the center of chaos, a tea-scented island in a storm; within ten meters, even undead and demons dared not step.

She’d skipped breakfast because, at first light, she felt Hill’s trouble like a ripple on a lake, and ran here with bread still warm.

Forest.

Annoyance flared first, thick as sap. “These trees are a pain,” I muttered, ducking another attack like sliding between trunks in a rainstorm.

This forest was Nareinya’s home ground, a net of roots and shade; once she got serious, I was pressed like straw under a rolling cart.

My mental strength stood at Holy Peak, a mountain of will; I scraped by most strikes, sometimes flicked back a counter like a spark.

But that was all—embers on wet wood, no blaze.

A thought flashed, bright as a firefly. “Got it… tch, she jumped way far.”

After last time’s wound, Nareinya got cautious; she kept her distance like a fox watching from the far brush.

That distance was the headache, a river between blades; how was I supposed to reach her with a sword built for storms?

Some Sword Aura techniques could cross it, streaks like lightning, but the cost gnawed like frostbite.

“Enough,” I snapped, heat rising like noon sun. “What am I thinking about costs for? Beat that woman, or my stamina will bleed out like sand.”

Resolve settled heavy as a stone. I raised the Shattered Light Sword high and swung toward Nareinya, a crescent cleaving sky.

“Sword Aura Impact!”

As the blade fell, a giant beam of sword-woven light tore forward, an arrow of dawn splitting air toward Di Yue’er.

Nareinya’s voice came cold, a winter river. “Not bad—you can strike from this far.”

She drew the bow she’d used against Elyar, the Divine Bow, Parus, a curve like a sickle moon.

“Yumigawa Sumeragi, I’m using full strength now,” she called, eyes calm as night. “Don’t disappoint me. Divine Bow, Parus—Second Arrow: Azure Moon.”

An ice arrow bathed in moonlight flew, piercing the beam; the whole laser turned to dry ice, a fog like ghost-breath.

“Finally, she used a divine artifact,” I thought, mind racing like wind in pines. “Now what?”

Shattered Light dwarfed artifacts, a dragon beside falcons; but I needed to stir its power, not swing dead steel.

Without that awakening, Shattered Light was only a sword, sharp and tough, a river stone dressed as a star.

“If only I could rouse Shattered Light’s strength…” The wish hung like a lantern.

Wait—Xinuo told me, “Form Sword Intent; resonate with Shattered Light; then its power wakes,” a bell tone across water.

“Sword Intent, huh? But how do I form it?” Frustration crept like thorns; I shook my head before the briars closed.

“Thinking during a fight? You’re courting death,” Nareinya snorted, voice like sleet. “Divine Bow, Parus—Third Arrow: Starbreaker.”

She loosed a star-wreathed arrow, a comet of absolute ruin, and it flew straight at me, no mercy, no bend.

“—!” My gut dropped like a stone in a well. I couldn’t dodge this one; the path was a wall.

At that instant, the strange power in me found a crack like spring water finding a seam and burst out in a flood.

“What is this…? My vision widens like a sky after rain, senses stretch like dawn, and strength climbs like a tide.”

Most of all, the feeling—this exact hum—matched when Xinuo awakened Shattered Light before, a chorus under my ribs.

Time felt both long as winter and brief as a blink, a leaf falling and a lightning flash.

I found the answer, clear as a mountain spring.

“So that’s it… this is Sword Intent. This is ‘resonance.’”

I looked at the arrow about to pierce my chest, and my heart went still as a lake at night, neither hurry nor fear.