The massive scythe split the sea of Crimson Flame, and the wind off its arc blew Aphelia’s blaze apart. The scythe-bearer stepped into view, hovering silent in midair like the Reaper from old tales.

“Reaper, you’re no saint. You dragged me into your space back then to take my body, didn’t you?”

Disdain pricked; Aphelia snorted, cold as frost.

To be fair, under that crimson fire-sea, her mind had slid dark. With Sigdrifa present, pain and hatred surged like oil—perfect fuel for the Crimson Fire.

So the Crimson Fire began to turn on her, vine-sly, tugging at Aphelia’s thoughts.

Seeing her state, the Reaper sighed, wind through bones. She vanished midair. A heartbeat later she stood behind Aphelia, scythe in hand.

The Crimson Flame riding Aphelia snuffed out at once, like candles under rain.

That savage mind and endless killing urge fell away like a dropped weight. Aphelia slipped free of the terrible haze. The two girls in finery faded, reshaping into Bracer Gauntlets that clasped her arms.

“Well? Can you calm down and talk?”

A trace of cool drifted from behind, sweeping off the clinging gloom. Her thoughts cleared like mist lifting.

“Fine… I can. But Reaper, you haven’t cleared your name.”

“You two do look cozy. Tomb-keeper, should I join in?” Sigdrifa’s smile glinted, and pure-white crystal spread around her like frost. At her voice, the Reaper lifted her hood, showing her face.

“Whatever it is, we can explain later. The urgent problem is Sigdrifa.”

Aphelia didn’t like it, but a strong ally was rain in a drought. No reason to refuse.

She nodded, rolled her shoulders, and lifted her fists to rush Sigdrifa. The Reaper barred her with a palm, urging patience.

“Sigdrifa. Long time no see. Looks like you haven’t improved.”

The brown-skinned Reaper spoke cold as winter, barely human. Beside her, Aphelia felt it keenly—like a string-pulled puppet, moving stiff through assigned tasks.

“Oh? Then tell me—what didn’t improve?”

Sigdrifa kept smiling, hands settling on the white crystals at her sides. The Reaper went on.

“Sorry. I misspoke.”

“Ah, so you can admit—”

“Not only did you fail to improve. Your rotten temper got worse. You’ll never surpass Brynhildr.”

Before Sigdrifa could bask, the Reaper landed the follow-up, deadpan. With that blank face, the sting doubled. Even Aphelia glanced over—so the icy Reaper could jab, too.

“Heh. Still sharp-tongued, aren’t you?”

Sigdrifa smiled. White crystal shaped into a long spear. She vanished into air. In the next heartbeat, the spear’s cold tip was at the Reaper’s eyes, icy light ready to pierce.

Even with no room to spare, Sigdrifa’s motion faltered a hair. The Reaper wrapped her black robe and slipped aside, letting the thrust whoosh past.

The gleaming spear-tip brushed her shoulder. The huge scythe swept at Sigdrifa, turning the tables in a blink.

Pure-white crystal surged again, as if a second Sigdrifa had formed. A crystal lance shot up from below toward the Reaper. Aphelia couldn’t watch anymore. Crimson Flame lit on her Bracer Gauntlets, and her punching wind battered the lance away from the Reaper’s abdomen.

“Aphelia~ joining the fun too?”

Sigdrifa flashed into view and hurled her crystal spear at Aphelia, but the Reaper’s scythe cleaved it midair, slicing it clean in two.

Her black robe stood like a wall, settling in front of Aphelia.

“Work with me. You don’t want her doing as she pleases, do you?”

Her monotone carried quiet. The robe moved without wind. Only now did Aphelia see—countless tiny hourglasses floated beneath the cloth, each leaking a strange power.

“Of course. I wasn’t letting her walk away.”

Aphelia smiled. She knocked her fists together; crimson sparks skittered, and the green gems glowed faintly. She floated to the Reaper’s side, eyes locked on Sigdrifa.

“I wasn’t planning to run. What’s there to ‘join’?”

Sneer sharp, Aphelia dashed in. Crimson Flame formed a shield before her, blocking crystal thorns that erupted mid-flight. She wove through the air, unstoppable, fist about to smash Sigdrifa’s face.

“Oh my, don’t rush~”

From the void, a great force shoved Aphelia half a step back. Countless crystals surged in, closing to kill. She raised her arms; Crimson Flame poised to roar up.

Before she could strike, a crisp shatter rang. The massive scythe carved apart the white bramble-crystal. The Reaper blinked into place at Aphelia’s side.

“Go.”

“Don’t need you to tell me!”

Aphelia closed in again. This time the Crimson Flame formed twin blades in her hands, swinging for Sigdrifa.

“Foolish.”

Before white crystal could rise, the Reaper sliced in from the flank. Under her wide robe, an hourglass cracked. Golden sand drifted into the air. Sigdrifa grunted; the hand she had raised froze mid-air.

It felt like an invisible hand seized Sigdrifa in an instant.

Aphelia didn’t waste the opening. Her twin Crimson blades pierced Sigdrifa’s shoulder. Scalding flame burst. She let the blades go and hammered both fists at her.

Pure-white crystal bloomed again, stabbing up from Sigdrifa’s side. With her arms raised, Aphelia couldn’t guard against the thrust from below.

No need to call it—the eerie black shadow arrived on cue.

The Reaper swung her massive scythe again. Since Aphelia went high, she cut low. With power so close, even proud Sigdrifa wouldn’t stomach that hit.

So pure-white crystal surged, trying to grow a forest before Sigdrifa.

The twin crimson blades exploded, and scorching flame invaded Sigdrifa’s body. Aphelia and the Reaper used the brief beat to disengage.

This volley worked—Sigdrifa was truly hurt. It was their first sync, yet they moved like old comrades, minds in tune.

If Aphelia was reckless fire, the Reaper was quiet guard.

Her scythe looked born for attack, yet it stood like a great shield, keeping Aphelia whole.

“Aphelia, keep this pressure.”

“Don’t need you to say it!”

As the words fell, Aphelia whipped up the Crimson Fire and charged again. They gave Sigdrifa no openings. Tight attacks cut in from the side, a storm of strikes forcing her to meet them.

Whenever pure-white crystal formed, Aphelia’s Crimson Fire pounced. Punches and kicks followed, leaving the wounded Sigdrifa struggling. The Reaper stayed ghostly; her huge scythe would slash from shadow, impossible to guard.

This won’t do! Even Sigdrifa felt the thought bite.

“Hmph. Quite the teamwork.”

Powerful Aether burst forth, becoming a massive barrier that blasted Aphelia and the Reaper away. Even pushing through it was impossible.

Shock flickered through Aphelia. So Sigdrifa was still hiding this power? Crimson Flame lit the air, but under her white crystals it couldn’t spread. It almost got smothered. Aphelia pulled back, guarding the front for herself and the Reaper.

The Reaper sensed something. She clenched her teeth and crushed several hourglasses. Time around them stuttered, then stalled. Ignoring the assault ahead, she lunged to stop Sigdrifa.

But as she passed the white barrier, she saw Sigdrifa’s secret smile.

“You. Have. Lost.”

A pure-white, void-born shadow flashed behind Sigdrifa. The Reaper’s eyes widened. She forced herself to stop and not press on—because of that fleeting white shade.

“How—she should’ve already vanished!”

Aphelia knew that white shade too well. The presence that once lived within her body, that saved her more than once. A name from legend—Brynhildr.

And now Sigdrifa had called her forth, letting that spirit ride her own flesh.