Two-on-one, huh?

Alicia eyed the two petite girls ahead, twin arrows nocked on a taut bowstring.

Not really. Only together are we one person. So this is a righteous duel.

What a foggy bit of sophistry. Whatever—two it is.

She popped her Blood Mark—no flourish, just a spark. Fire blossomed underfoot like dawn lilies. Her clothes rippled into elven garb. The Demonblade kissed her hip.

Moser Drawblade: Roar of the Flame Lion!

A lion of fire barreled straight at Remi and Flan, a blazing beast leaping from the hearth.

Four Hundred Years of Silence.

Remi’s voice chilled like midnight rain. A paper-thin black ward spread, a night leaf over still water. The flames hit without a sound, sank like a stone, rippled, then vanished.

But the lion wasn’t the fang. Alicia’s true strike hid in the smoke, a shadow under the wave.

As the fire-lion was swallowed whole, Alicia’s slash fell on the ward. The lion had sunk like a pebble in a stream; her blade dropped like a meteor into a pond.

A little pond can’t defy a falling star. In a blink, the ward shattered like brittle ice.

Flan tugged magic like kite string and yanked Remi clear. They barely slipped past the slash, then fired two mana shots, gnats by a candleflame, to break Alicia’s chase.

Alicia and Remi drifted apart like wary cats. Remi wiped her brow, sweat beads like dew, eyes wide on Alicia.

Didn’t expect that. Your power’s terrifying, like thunder under the skin.

Sis, we shouldn’t meet her head-on. We need another way.

Got it. Split up—one pulls aggro, one strikes. Like wolves flanking a stag.

Even whispered, Alicia heard them, the words pricking like thorns. Being treated like a raid boss soured her tongue.

You think I’m one of those brain-dead bosses? Bastards!

Remi snorted, a tiny volcano in a small face, pride curling like a cat’s tail.

Yeah, and what of it? Flan, fight!

Flan’s body lifted like a kite in a gust. She floated to Alicia, raised her small fist, knuckles like pebbles ready to fly.

A cold lake filled Alicia’s mind as the blow came. So Flan’s the lure. The real strike is the shadow behind me.

She snapped the blade backward, a whip at twilight—only to cut air, dragonflies scattering.

What? How?

Bang.

Flan’s fist crashed into Alicia’s cheek, a hammer under silk. The force popped her skyward like a tossed leaf. Remi’s attack followed like hail.

Weakpoint Strike!

Seventeen thrusts in two seconds, every one aimed at soft bark on the trunk. Caught by surprise, Alicia could only tank it, body ringing like a bell.

Not done yet!

A blue longbow bloomed in Flan’s hand, Rafi’s bow reborn, a crescent of winter sky.

Finisher: Meteor Shot!

A blue magic arrow screamed out, a falling star arrowing for Alicia as she hung in air like a trapped gull.

Pain howled through her ribs. She bit it down and kicked flame, using the fire’s backblast to twist midair like a swallow.

Flame Requiem!

The Demonblade exhaled a wall of fire, a burning curtain across the stage. The blue arrow slammed into the blaze. Two storms met, wrestled, and died together like spent waves.

Alicia fell back to earth, knees bending, stance set, breath steady as a drum.

Damn it! I thought one would draw aggro and one would strike!

Remi shot her a look, winter clear and sharp, like a teacher’s chalk snap.

Hah? Trusting an enemy is your own stupidity.

Damn it—where’s your divine dignity? Aren’t gods supposed to never lie?

Something in the words hit a buried wire. Alicia felt she’d stepped on a landmine; anger flashed in Remi like lightning behind clouds.

Didn’t I say from the start? We—are—not—gods!

Her shout cracked the air. She kicked off, body a loosed arrow, and appeared before Alicia like a storm gust.

Divine Punishment: Five-Element Mountain!

Her heavy fist slammed Alicia’s belly, a whole mountain ramming a field. Alicia jammed her blade into the ground to bleed the impact, a root snagging a flood.

Even so, her insides rode a roller-coaster, stomach seasick. Nausea rose like a tide, begging to pour out.

She strangled the sickness with snark, using humor as a bridge over a chasm.

You keep saying you’re not gods, then why use Divine Punishment? You’re not Ling, that tsundere.

The jab hit a nerve. Remi’s fury flared like oil on fire.

Enough! If I say I’m not, then I’m not! You think I wanted to be born with a mission as dark as winter night?

You think I wanted to see ruins piled with corpses, a field of white bones under a gray sky?

You think I wanted any of this? It was forced on me, nailed into my life like iron stakes!

I never had a choice! Those damn gods shoved it on me. How could a victim become what she hates most?

Uh…?

Alicia blinked, thoughts scattered like leaves. She’d poked something raw. Remi hated gods like embers hate rain.

Do gods pick their haters as avengers? What a twisted taste.

Her mind wandered through weeds, and the nausea ebbed like an outgoing tide. Distraction, she thought, is a handy little skill.

Both sides sank into their own weather. No one struck; words were the only blades.

Remi vented fate like a storm venting thunder, lamenting a bitter life, a river tasting salt.

Flan stood still, eyes gleaming like lanterns, watching Remi’s howl with a gaze that cut like a quiet knife.

Alicia gulped air, each breath a ladle from a cool well, drawing strength back into her limbs.

Ling lay on the bed like a doll in a glass case, unmoving, moon-pale.

The scene slipped into a rare calm, a still pond under a cloudy sky—peaceful, or so it pretended.