Hearing those words, the darkness in Fulin’s heart-sea parted like night pierced by wind. She finally understood what Reina meant to do.

She still couldn’t guess Reina’s exact motive, but one thing felt sharp as a drawn blade: Reina meant to bind Lance to her side forever, by a rope the law itself would tie.

It was clear enough—help Karl win, claim the right to dispose of prisoners. The Doran Kingdom had edicts for extraditing prisoners when ducal realms fought private wars. So after victory, she could take Lance Morrison back to Maple City—if Fulin hadn’t read it wrong.

"I didn’t expect I mattered that much to you. I’m flattered." Lance, played by Fulin, didn’t flinch.

He flared his Battle Aura. A full-bodied flame coiled around him like a dragon winding a pillar. It wasn’t Lance Morrison’s innate aura form; if Fulin wished, it could flow like water. Aura shapes were many. But for burst techniques, fire was still king.

Now Reina’s blade bloomed with an Aura Rose, while Lance condensed pure aura-fire.

Their pressure evened out like two storms staring across a sea. But any fighter could see it: the Rose Knight’s aura wasn’t fancy; it was condensed and vast—Charge 8 against Charge 3. If they clashed head-on, Lance would lose.

"Stop, Lance. I don’t want to hurt you." In her darkened trance, Reina’s eyes were empty wells.

Fulin, as Lance, let bravado rise first. "No. I told you—I’m careful."

"Then I’ve got no choice. Even if you end up crippled, your big sister will care for you, heart and soul~~" Hollow eyes sprouted tiny gray hearts—cute and chilling, like moths around a lamp.

The violet rose on her sword burst open, scattering into countless petals.

Her figure seemed to dissolve with them, like a flower torn to the breeze, and vanished.

Gone? No—!

Lance couldn’t see it, but Fulin did. There weren’t petals at all. Reina detonated her Battle Aura in a heartbeat, driving speed to the limit. Afterimages trailed like silk; aura residue turned them into a painter’s trick—like a thousand roses blown away. Gorgeous as lanterns across a festival night.

Her true body had already ghosted to Lance’s flank. When the flower-mass took shape, a Rosethorn Cleave fell—one fierce slash!

Clang—the strike landed solid, and Lance blocked. He still flew five or six meters, but dug in this time. His boots carved brake-lines. He didn’t fall.

Seeing the blow fail, Reina’s true self scattered into a rose curtain again. She slipped away fast, waiting for the next opening.

Fulin knew Lance wouldn’t last one more. His hands numbed on the Sirius Sword. Cracks veined the blade. Another full hit, and his defeat would be ugly.

Good grief! Panic slapped like cold rain; urgency kicked like hooves in her chest.

Only after tasting Reina’s speed did she grasp why Layne called the Rose a once-in-a-generation genius of aura refining. That velocity would leave Blazing Sun and Steelheart—Earth Knights already—chasing dust.

Compared to that, Lance fought like a mage wearing armor. He excelled at flame—burst and heat. In a straight brawl with peers, that style gave you no clinch-winning tools. Against a same-tier absolute like the Rose, dragging the fight meant certain loss.

But—so what?

Anxiety simmered, yet clarity rang like bronze. Lance didn’t need to beat the Rose. He only needed to stall.

Holding that belief, Lance launched Secret Sword Blazing Fire—Modified.

It was an all-direction, no-blind-spot technique. It traded raw force for reach.

He snapped into a whirling slash. Vast aura-flames rode a 360-degree gale. A scorching tongue lashed outward, shaping a seven-meter radius disk of fire.

Where the disk skimmed the earth, the flame licked greedy paths. The ground wore red scars like flayed hide. The ringed soil blackened into scorched wasteland, as if heaven’s calamity had fallen—burning with a scourging fire of judgment, merciless to any sinner in his domain.

"Take it—Secret Sword Blazing Fire, seven-meter radius!"

"Ahh~~!" The all-around blaze drove Reina out of the circle.

Sparks clung to her skirt-armor like fireflies. She had to stop outside the ring, drop the speed art, and slap out the burning spots.

It worked! Relief warmed Fulin’s chest like spring sun, tinged with apology for singeing Reina.

But playing Lance meant staying wicked. He sneered, "How many times can you spam that trick? I’ve got seven more Blazing Fires. I don’t mind burning you down to bare skin."

"You— you lech!" Reina slapped out embers. The hollow look in her eyes eased to a living flicker.

"Thanks for the compliment." Lance grinned, smug as a fox in snow.

Fulin felt the same. A week ago, Reina had teased her into a blush; now watching Reina’s cheeks flame felt like payback.

But Reina kept score better. As the tongues of fire died, her empty eyes turned terrifyingly earnest—resolve flashing like a blade’s glint.

Fulin swallowed. Dread rose like cold water in a well. Reina might go all in.

If Lance repeated the move—forced her back again—she might grit through the burn, breach the domain, and pound him flat. If it turned to that, Fulin would be in trouble.

Luck broke first. The soldiers who’d flanked earlier burst in, triumphant. "Report! We’ve captured Karl Elmond!"

Lance turned toward the voice.

Angus lay pinned under a big cat. Karl was held by several burly men. Karl’s guards lay dead around them; a few of Lance’s men too. The ground showed wind-sliced cuts and blight-corroded stains—signs of savage fighting.

Reina looked as well. The two prisoners wore faces emptied of life.

She scanned the field. No soldiers of Karl’s side remained—only Lance’s.

"Did I lose?" Her voice quivered like a reed in late autumn wind.

Her face still held a stubborn line, but the body knew the truth. Strength leaked away. She could barely hold the sword. Before the hilt slipped, the blade itself snapped in two.

At first, Reina didn’t understand. The sword was a custom magic-stone arm from Maple City’s forge—named Azure Mandrake, a notable blade. It refined Battle Aura and used the sparked aura to keep the steel tough. It shouldn’t break.

But it had.

She looked at the fracture, baffled. A notch gaped there—the mark Lance had left with his first draw-cut. Azure Mandrake had failed because of that wound.

"So I lost long ago…" Reina murmured, stunned, like a candle realizing its wick was gone.

Understanding settled, and she sank to her knees. The black sheen of her mood melted away, leaving sorrow and emptiness.

"Yes. You lost, and I won. It was decided from the start." Lance spoke quietly, though he’d never meant to ruin her weapon.

Under the sunset, the Agada Plain held still, like breath held in a prayer.

Reina rose and bowed to Lance. "I’m sorry. Your big sister was wrong. I know you can’t forgive who I was seven years ago. I’ll carry that sin for life, until the day you choose to forgive me…"

"Goodbye, Lance." She turned and walked.

Her stretched shadow pulled long, like the track a life leaves across earth. If she walked to the horizon and that track vanished, would she vanish from the world too?

With that thought, worry surged in Fulin’s chest like a storm tide.

She didn’t know why Reina’s leaving hurt this much. She just ran as Lance and called out, "Reina!"

Hearing her name, the knight paused for a heartbeat, then kept going.

Fulin bit down on doubt. She sprinted as Lance and shouted, "I don’t know what you did wrong—but I forgive you!"

"Eh?" Reina turned, shocked, as if sound itself had lied.

Fulin bit down again, reached her, set a hand on her shoulder, and said it steady, "I forgive you, Reina."

The Agada Plain lay silent under the setting sun, quiet as if the world held only two.

"Really?" Joy flickered across her face, a sparrow’s wing—gone in a blink. She feared it was a dream.

Fulin sighed inside at how hard this girl was to soothe, but she had no choice. She bit back shyness and, as Lance, raised her voice, "Really! I forgive you, big sister."

Darkness lifted from Reina’s eyes. It felt like years of cloud peeling back, warmth pouring through. Soft violet light shone there, like a winter hearth—flame thin, yet warming body and soul.

Then, for an instant, that warmth dimmed. Reina asked, "Why do you forgive your big sister?"

Oh geez, I don’t even know what you did—how do I give a reason? Fulin thought. Lance’s seven-year-old memories were in tatters. If she needed a reason, it couldn’t come from him. It had to be hers—a reason Fulin herself could forgive Reina.

But Fulin had never held a grudge. So the reason couldn’t be “forgive.” It had to be “need.”

"Because I never hated you. And I need you… no, my wish requires you in it. You’re irreplaceable to me." Lance spoke with shrine-quiet earnestness.

Reina lowered her head. A blush ripened like peach bloom. In a voice scented like orchids, she asked, "Lance, will you tell me your wish?"

My wish is to coast and live quietly. But Fulin felt that truth was wildly out of tune. She needed another shape—one that sounded noble, one Reina could accept. And now, she had it.

"My wish is to be the knight who guards your peace and happiness for the rest of your life."

"Lance… do you know what that means?"

"I do. As long as the Doran Kingdom’s peace holds, you, me, and countless others will have more chances at quiet and joy. I intend to guard that future."

"Lance… do you mean to become a hero who saves the world?"

"I’ve never aimed to save the world. But I might guard their peace."

Above the plain, the starfield glittered like spilled jewels. A silver streak slipped by, quiet as a wish.

Reina suddenly took Lance’s hands, shyness rippling like wind over water. "Since you said that, you’ll have to take responsibility for me, okay?"

"Uh… why?" Lance—Fulin—blinked, puzzled.

"Because," Reina bowed her head and drifted closer, breath like cool orchid, "your big sister is selfish. Right now, I want you to guard only my peace…"