The first thing Ling saw was long pink hair lifting in the breeze, like peach petals riding spring wind. That uncommon color hooked a single memory in her mind—and it wasn’t a good one.

“Magic Cannon, fifty percent output!”

A head-sized sphere of mana bloomed at once, a green moon pulled tight and aimed straight at the figure ahead.

“Fire!”

On her word, the sphere cinched down to half a fist, then lanced out in a dead-straight line, a comet with a cold core.

Rafi’s gut tightened like a knotted ribbon. She threw up a half-meter-thick magic barrier, a glassy wall rippling green like a river.

She knew what Ling’s Magic Cannon could do. That thin defense would barely hold for a heartbeat, so she ducked aside the instant the wall rose.

Ling didn’t seem to notice it, but her mana was surging like a storm-fed tide, and power sharpened the Cannon. Rafi’s barrier tore like a paper lantern in rain—less than a blink, not even a hundredth of a second.

Luck flicked her a coin. The blast skimmed her, left a sting, and rushed past like wind through reeds.

“Wait! Ling, hold up!”

Fear crawled up Rafi’s spine. After Remi and the others had messed her half to death last time, she never wanted that limbo again.

Ling indulged her for a breath. Six mana orbs circled her like fireflies around a pond. She walked step by step to Rafi, caught one orb, squeezed it twice, then leveled a dead-eyed stare.

“Any last words? Say them. I promise I won’t grant a single one.”

Rafi’s laugh came out thin, a paper-thin smile. Ling would absolutely mean it.

“No… uh… there won’t be a next time, okay~”

Bang—she hit the perfect landmine.

“A next time? Are you hoping for a next time?!”

The orb in Ling’s fist warped, green light kneaded like soft metal, a warhead in her hand. Rafi’s heart thudded under sudden pressure, small and tight as a trapped bird.

“I—”

“Enough talk! ‘Mana Pinball’!”

The green orb didn’t turn into a Magic Cannon shot like Rafi feared. It popped free and came at her like a rubber ball tossed by a bored child.

What’s this supposed to do?

The slow approach felt harmless, like a leaf drifting. Rafi sensed no threat.

She slid her shoulder and let it pass. Suspicion flickered. Was this just a formality? A token hit, then a tsundere “Hmph, let’s call it even,” and she’d be forgiven?

Bang!

A crisp crack sang behind her. Rafi whirled. The small green ball was already coming back. She dropped her head, and it kissed the air above like a swallow in flight.

It bounced.

The thought snapped into place. The ball ricocheted off the wall and came back—and its speed was getting… odd.

Bang.

It smacked the wall again and sprang away, but not toward Rafi—toward the space by her right hand, like a sly fox circling.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

The little thing ricocheted around the room, purposefully aimless, ignoring science like a mischievous spirit. Each hit piled on speed, kinetic heat rising like noon sun on stone.

Damn it! Why isn’t it stopping?

Rafi twisted and slid, dodging a blur so fast it left afterimages like ghost fish under water. Surprise flushed her chest cold.

She risked a glance at Ling. A green semicircular shield had unfolded at Ling’s side, a jade crescent. Each time the ball hit it, it reflected clean, driving the chaos tighter.

Shhk—

A moment’s distraction, and the pinball took its chance. It sliced her skin in a blink. A thin line of blood welled, and a numb sting crept around the cut like frost.

So that’s its real purpose?!

Shhk.

Another shallow line traced her cheek. Heat burned along the wound, salt and fire.

Was she going to make me taste pain, bit by bit, until despair seeped in?

Rafi, who excelled at punishing humans, recognized the craft in an instant. She knew this stage all too well.

Tiny cuts, sharp pain, a slow peeling of will like bark from a tree. Hah. Cruel method—almost on par with the tricks Daemons use.

She freed one hand to clamp over her mouth, guarding the gate. If that supersonic marble darted in and did a grand rebound in her gut, her death mask would be ugly.

“Hey! Ling, let me explain, okay? Just one minute.”

Despite her palm over her lips, Rafi’s diction came out clear, each word neat as beads. Ling gave her no room. The pinball kept singing.

Seeing persuasion fail, Rafi’s gaze snapped to the balcony doors, shut tight like a pale shell. A flash of light slid through her pupils. That door was her only hope.