All at once, the night went dull; wind and cloud wheeled. When Medith showed her true hand, souls trembled; Fangge gripped her blood-red blade, not daring a breath.

A duel between masters: one stroke decides. They locked eyes; time held itself still; air tight as a drawn bow. After three minutes of silence, Medith struck first.

She became a streak of silver, sliding a lazy, dazzling arc. Her greatsword sang free. One draw-cut flashed. In an instant, a Cyclone turned razor-cold, wind hardening into edge. Fangge raised her sword and stabbed straight down, pinning Medith’s blade on the mark.

Yet before steel even kissed for two heartbeats—THOOM—

“Aaah—!” Fangge took Medith’s draw-cut head-on, like a falling Meteor had hit her. Heaven-and-earth weight crashed down. She blasted back over ten meters. The web of her thumb split, and blood slid down her snow-pale hand.

The Reaper’s scythe swung again. From ten meters out, Medith vaulted. Her greatsword ripped up from the ground, flinging a ribbon of firelight; she hurled through the air wreathed in a wind of death.

“Shadows upon shadows...” Fangge breathed the four words; her body turned to a wisp of black smoke and vanished. K-THOOM— Medith’s heavy blade slammed down, scoring the plain with a shocking ravine. Hot steam hissed up. The quake made the castle shiver.

Many mercenaries couldn’t keep their feet; they went down hard. Even the women braced by instinct, layering magic just to steady themselves. Sais stared at Medith in dread. “It’s barely been any time, and her swordcraft climbed another tier...”

“She’s a war-demon. Every fight, she harvests skill and power. It’s terrifying...” Sais could see it: a sword art that blended Robert’s Lawbreaking Ability with the Flame Lady’s fire.

Fangge’s breath hitched; then her mind cut clean. “She whips a sword buried in earth with brutal strength; friction forges heat; arcing momentum builds; she turns herself into a battering ram...”

“Oh? I haven’t seen that one. As an escape, it’s neat. If I were you, I’d use it for an instant strike. You missed the best window.” Medith flicked her greatsword; a smile opened like a flower on her beautiful face.

Frustration spiked first; silence followed. That escape burned her Lawbreaking Ability, paired with her self-made Ghost Step. It dodged most physical harm for a breath, but it bled strength and energy like a sieve.

“The Commander is the Commander... even holding back this much, I still can’t beat you?” Fangge spoke, unwillingness thick in her voice. She wasn’t blind; Medith was indulging her. More than once, Medith could’ve chained a combo, yet she kept giving her breathing room.

Maybe she just wants to see more. “Since swordcraft won’t beat you... then—” Under the mask, Fangge’s silver teeth clenched; the mask’s brow flared with blazing white. Medith’s eyes widened a fraction; the mercenaries fell back fast, afraid of the storm.

“That one... she really means to beat Medith...” Sais couldn’t help recalling that fearsome red armor and that ice-cool girl.

“Show me everything you’ve got. I’ll guide you with all my strength, little sister.” Hunger lit Medith’s gaze. Her green eyes went white in a blink. Milk-white light sheathed her silver greatsword.

Then a pillar of light speared the clouds and lit the night. Within twenty meters, the ground turned to a killing field. A power not of this world raged, tearing and rejecting everything caught within.

Only, to a certain Sprite girl, its struggle and its pressure looked so helpless, so pitiful.