Alicia’s voice fell like a pebble into still water. “Alright, I’m going in.”

With her words, the air tightened like drawn bowstrings; even six against an S-class felt shaky.

Alicia drew a small black book, its cover like raven wings.

“The Moser Codex, Chapter One, First Form: Extreme Speed.”

The moment she spoke, her silhouette blew out like a candle in wind.

Rafi snapped to like a hawk catching wind.

“Don’t panic! Mage, use tracking and open a mind share.”

Her commands moved like gears; at least Alicia’s position lit up like a lantern.

“Swordsmen, Plan Alpha. Hit her.”

The two swordsmen poured mana into their blades, like rivers into iron.

“Sword Art: Wind Blade!”

“Sword Art: X-Cross Slash!”

Three lines of force fenced Alicia in, like thorns closing in.

The mage raised the staff; gold mana flickered like bees on honey.

“Magic: Lightning Paralysis!”

A bolt bit Alicia like a serpent; her body locked, a storm trapped in ice.

For a fighter, that freeze is a cliff edge.

Rafi drew her blue bow to full moon; a blue light arrow gathered like a comet.

“Finisher: Meteor Strike.”

No mercy—she offered no room for Alicia to breathe.

The blue arrow hovered less than two feet from Alicia’s head, a winter star about to drop.

Her eyes held no fear; her mouth curved like a crescent moon.

The arrow hit something unseen and flipped like a fish, then streaked back at Rafi.

Rafi clicked her tongue, “tsk,” and blasted it away, light against light.

A bespectacled man in the stands spoke, voice like a bell.

“That was Alicia’s Talent: Total Reflection! They say it reflects all magic, but the uses are limited.”

My chest tightened like a drum. So they have talent skills here?

I don’t know this world enough; my map’s still fog.

Total Reflection feels busted, a mirror that tilts the battlefield.

If you train it and sync with Alicia’s body arts, the other side would doubt life in minutes.

While Ling’s thoughts flowed like ink, Alicia drew the Codex again.

“Moser Codex, Chapter One, Form Five: Nerve Acceleration.

Chapter One, Form Seven: Body Overstrength.

Chapter One, Form Eight: Weapon Break.”

With three spells layered like armor, Alicia shed the bind in a crack of light.

She tapped forward on her toe; she charged like a wild bull, scorched earth in her wake.

The shattered tiles behind her were footprints of flame.

The sudden rush stunned the mage; support fell out of rhythm like a dropped beat.

Alicia used the gap and appeared before the two melee fighters, swift as a kestrel.

“Martial Art: Ashura.”

With that cryptic name, their weapons snapped like dry reeds.

Before shock could bloom, their small shields split cleanly like cut bamboo.

“You’ve got to be kidding! Those were mithril weapons!”

Normal people can’t break those, not without a miracle.

Ling watched, mind like a ticking clock.

Those shields wouldn’t stop even one of my punches, but Alicia shouldn’t crack them this clean.

Even with the Demonblade, you’d need a cut or two; this edge is glass-smooth.

That’s the magic buff talking; sometimes magic hits like mountains.

Too bad I don’t have much magic to spend; my well runs shallow.

Back to the battlefield, the lens snapping like a shutter.

After destroying their weapons, Alicia knocked them out with the flat, like sleep poured from steel.

She turned to Rafi; two shielders guarded her like walls, while she and the mage fired from behind.

Whoosh—

Alicia tilted her head; the arrow whisked past like a dragonfly.

Her gaze sharpened like frost; this needed to end fast.

She sprinted at Rafi; the mage had already locked her, a beacon in mist.

Rafi tracked her cleanly, sight like a drawn line.

“Shielders, guard the four o’clock in three seconds.

Mage, drop a thunderball on four o’clock.”

Perfect command moved like clockwork; the thunderball reached Alicia’s face in a flash.

Forced right, she slipped into the shielders, a river turned by stone.

Attacking here would be wrong; the angle was mud.

But Alicia not striking didn’t mean Rafi stayed still.

“Bow Magic: Tempest.”

An arrow wrapped in a storm screamed at Alicia, speed like a falcon’s dive.

Even with magic boosts, she couldn’t dodge that wind.

If you can’t dodge, you block; she set the Demonblade before her chest like a gate.

The arrow slammed the blade; the shriek was iron on glass, momentum a hammer through her arms.

“Dragonflame!”

The Demonblade belched fire like a waking volcano; flame and cyclone braided into a blazing helix.

Heat rolled in waves, a desert crashing over the ring.

The whirlwind lost to the blaze; the tempest arrow burned to ash.

Alicia stood in the heart of fire, unharmed, wounds knitting like silk.

She flicked the burning blade; the fire shivered like a candle.

Her eyes met Rafi’s, battle fervor blazing like a sunrise.

“Sorry. For the next two minutes I have to go all out, or you might die.”

She held the flaming Demonblade and swayed left and right, a pendulum about to drop.

Whoosh—

Her shadow arrived at the shielders in a blink, speed like lightning touching ground.

Hand up.

Blade down.

The shield melted like snow; the shielder’s breastplate gaped with a molten notch.

The rebound knocked him out; the whole scene took less than two heartbeats.

Rafi couldn’t help but stare, surprise like a gust through leaves.

Alicia raised her blade again and chopped; Rafi jerked her bow up to block like a bar.

The expected strike didn’t land; a scream tore the rear like cloth.

The mage’s chest wore a terrible gouge; without armor, a mage is a candle in wind.

“Good. Obstacles cleared. I’ve got fifty-some seconds left.

I need to move a bit faster, or I don’t know what will happen.”

Her voice carried wrong, two notes grinding like metal.

“You… what did you do? Forget it. We can only fight anyway. Come on!”

“Solid willpower. Most people would black out now.

Then, come.”