If we ranked them, Sigdrifa should be Brynhildr’s vassal. Yet wielding only Brynhildr’s technique already reaches this height—then… what of Brynhildr herself? The complete her?

“Then… let’s try.”

As if fate tugged her tongue, Aphelia said it.

Crimson Fire lit behind her like dawn on bloodied snow. A few blades floated at her sides. She didn’t dare move rashly. Facing a legendary goddess, the mind hits a stair too high even before the first clash.

The battle rekindled.

Aphelia surged faster than ever. Twin swords tight in her grip, she flashed to Brynhildr’s side and slashed at her neck without a blink.

If I don’t know I can win, at least strike first!

Odin followed close, her azure thunder-lance veiled in vast Aether. Whether Aphelia’s attack worked or not, the point would reach its mark.

Watching them storm forward, the Reaper bit her lip and clenched her scythe. She didn’t charge. Her eyes locked on Brynhildr, and she didn’t dare twitch.

But before the blades reached, Aphelia felt her abdomen bloom with pain. She was whipped away in a blink, without even time to react.

Almost the same instant, riding the cyan Aether, Odin seized a perfect opening. She hadn’t blocked the strike that flung Aphelia, but this return window should be enough to leave a scar on Brynhildr!

Was it?

In Odin’s blue-green right eye, the silver tip drew closer. Her body kept its motion, yet no matter how she tried to retract the thunder-lance, it was all for nothing.

“AAAAAAAH!”

Blood sprayed, but Odin’s spear did not yield.

If I’ve been cut, how can I not carve a wound in her!

The Silver Lance that had pierced Odin’s right eye suddenly stood guarding at Brynhildr’s side. Before Odin could see the move, she was smashed and sent flying again. This time, Brynhildr did more than knock her away—the Silver Lance vanished from her hand.

“What… is happening?!!!”

Odin clutched her right eye, staring at the lance now a hair’s breadth from her face. Terror rose like cold tide.

The exchange lasted seconds. Could that attack slip straight through space? Then…

“That’s not it…”

The Reaper’s quiet voice brushed her ear. Several hourglasses under the black cloak shattered at once.

The Silver Lance halted midair, as if someone had seized it. Its form blurred. In seconds, it dissolved like a failing phantom and vanished before them.

Far off, Brynhildr seemed to notice. She lifted her head and opened her eyes.

More hourglasses cracked under the cloak. The Reaper supporting Odin coughed blood, her whole body jolting like struck by a hidden hammer.

“Hey, are you okay!!”

Feeling the violent tremor behind her, Odin blurted out.

“I’m fine… Don’t you move! If the Valkyrie locks you again, I might not be able to shield you!”

The Reaper gripped Odin, refusing to let her struggle.

Seeing Brynhildr not strike at once, Odin held still and lowered her voice.

“What do you mean? How did the Valkyrie do that? In my memory, she wasn’t this eerie.”

The Reaper let out a bitter laugh. Eyes on that pure white figure, she spoke low.

“Brynhildr’s attacks strike later but arrive first… No, whenever you attack, she’s always steps ahead. It’s the power of rules. You have no chance.”

Always first, no matter when—what could counter that? Imagine no matter how or when you throw a punch, her hit lands before yours, even before you start to swing.

This is no question of speed. It’s an assault that twists causality.

That is one of Brynhildr’s great killers.

“Wait—what about Aphelia? You shielded me. Then her…”

“Rest easy. Brynhildr can’t kill her. Not this one, not now.”

The black robe hung like a barrier, blocking Brynhildr’s sight. The Reaper looked toward where Aphelia had been hurled, forced to pin hope on her—at least until the plan succeeds…

Damn… that hurts.

Aphelia clutched her gut, breath hissing in through her teeth.

Outside looked fine, but inside burned like coals. Her organs—injured? No, likely shattered. Worthy of Brynhildr. How much did she use against me?

Half strength? Thirty percent?

She brushed gravel off and rose slowly from the crater. Crimson Flame lit along her arms and spread to shield every side of her body.

If armor alone can’t hold, then add the Crimson Fire.

Against Brynhildr, Aphelia didn’t dare slacken. If she could give a hundred, she’d wring out a hundred and fifty. The two girls in ornate dress appeared again, a bit battered, blades in hand. They hovered at her side, staring up with her at Brynhildr in the air.

Brynhildr seemed to feel the gaze. She stretched out a hand, pale fingers hooking in taunt.

“Hmph. A Valkyrie’s pride, huh?”

Crimson Flame compressed into Aphelia’s hands. A long spear took shape. The two ornate girls drifted out as well, spears in grip, flanking her.

She didn’t understand that earlier strike, but she refused to dance to the Valkyrie’s rhythm. When titans clash, whoever is led into the other’s tempo loses from the start.

Aphelia didn’t rush. She rose back into midair. Crimson Flame began to spread, slow and steady, trying to reclaim a patch of unsullied sky from the domain the Valkyrie had seized.

The scarlet spear skimmed through the pure white field. Crimson Flame nibbled at the pallor, but couldn’t hold; it looked ready to gutter out. Aphelia closed her eyes and stilled.

If Crimson Fire burns my soul, let it burn brighter.

As if hearing her will, the nearly dying Crimson Fire flared, pushing back into the white domain. Aphelia’s figure wavered in the air.

She steadied at once, stepping on the Crimson Fire, walking toward Brynhildr.

“She found a way, but it’s not the right way…”

Watching Aphelia draw near, the usually unreadable Reaper showed pain and struggle. Teeth clenched, her hidden hands tightened in the cloak.

“What do you mean? Why isn’t it right? What else do you know?!”

Odin moved to tear free.

Brynhildr was too strong, beyond human measure. Odin couldn’t leave such a foe to Aphelia alone. And the Reaper’s words tasted like ill omen.

“Tearing her domain to crack that power is sound. But Aphelia is burning her soul. Look at her hair tips—the color means her soul’s ablaze. The lifespan that should be hers…”

She drew an hourglass from the robe. Golden sand fell into it, visibly pouring down from the void.

“This is her time. Until she defeats Brynhildr, it won’t stop…”

“Then give that time back to her!”

The sand fell faster. Aphelia’s hair began to silver. Odin roared and reached for the hourglass.

“Impossible. Brynhildr is a god the world itself acknowledges—the only god in this world. What Aphelia is doing is an equivalent exchange with the world. I’m only the custodian. I can’t break that rule. If I did, the world would grant Brynhildr even greater power to balance it.”

The Reaper shook her head, grief thick in her voice. She could do nothing, except not become Aphelia’s weak point, watching the sand heap higher.

In the sky, Aphelia had reached Brynhildr. One more step, and she’d enter her range.

Huff—

Clang!!!

In that breath, the crimson spear and the Silver Lance crossed in midair. Ragged flames flooded the space around them. This time, Aphelia wasn’t blown away. A sharp notch marred her spear of flame.

“She actually landed a hit?!”

Thinking of Brynhildr’s later-yet-first terror, Odin’s eyes went wide.