She didn’t have time to try anything. Something shot out of the darkness, blurring into a streak of black. The figure passed by Slya, swinging hands that were segmented blades down at her. Instead of dodging, she retaliated.
She forged a sword so quickly it looked like it was already in her hand, along with a small shield above her. Everything happened simultaneously. The finger blades slammed into her shield, tore through it, and pain flared in her shoulder.
But something else hit the ground with a ping-thud!
Screaming followed as red-black blood splattered on the ground. Mawion’s hand twitched where it lay severed. The shield she had created wasn’t just to block the attack but to obscure the man’s vision so she could counterattack.
"I... my haaaand!" Mawion stumbled back, gripping the stump of his right arm. His face twisted with pain and confusion, but anger made his eyes burn. He felt humiliated, knowing she had been toying with him from the beginning.
It stung even more that he had played along, unaware it was a game. He had underestimated her, and now he was paying the price.
Straightening, he gritted his teeth. "I will end you," he bit out.
Mawion didn’t yet have the full power to manipulate his iron body at his rank, but he could make small changes here and there.
"Even if I have to spoil my body to do so."
As he said this, his back hunched, and then something burst out. Wings unfolded smoothly, made of interlocking feathers of short and long blades, each pointing in different directions. Their danger was unmistakable. The wings clapped, clicking together ominously.
’A single hit from that, and it’ll cut me to pieces,’ Slya understood immediately. "But it seems to be taking a toll on your body," she said as she slowly moved back.
Mawion swayed. His skin had turned ashen; the smooth metal of his body now looked like a sheet of tin. "Shut up! It’s a small price to pay for your life!"
"You’re mad," she grinned. "I like that!"
The darkness behind her surged and coalesced. She copied his technique, though she couldn’t form it on her skin. Instead, massive wings like his—ones that spanned the entire coliseum—took form behind her.
Mawion stared, his mouth half-open. "Yo... you..."
Slya said nothing, though her face was a bit pinched. All that large-scale forging had consumed a lot of essence. Still, she managed a smile. "Thank you for your technique."
Boom!
Her wings clapped once before dissolving into darkness, but that single clap was enough. It was as if a supersonic wave had passed. Countless sharp blades, both long and small, tore through the ground and air, gouging holes and cleaving the stone floor with ease.
Mawion wasn’t spared. He had curved his wings around himself to take the hit, but Slya’s blade-wings weren’t just heavy; they were sharp. The shield he created to protect himself had turned against him.
Now he lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, metal shards sticking out of his body.
Slya bowed. "Your technique has given me a lot to think about."
Mawion twitched, his back a mess. One part of his metal wings had torn straight out, the other bent inward with numerous blades sticking into his flesh.
"I... I... lost," he gasped.
"Of course," Slya snorted. "It was expected."
She turned her back, took one step—and froze.
Something swift, carrying the bloodlust of death, swept down from the top of the stage above her. It descended like a shadowed blur, coming to a stop just behind her. Slya felt as though a sword were resting against her neck, her entire body frozen in sheer panic.
Excited murmurs and mumbling rose from the spectators above, but she dared not move unnecessarily.
’This aura... It has a clear intention to kill, and it has the power to do it!’
"Look here, girl," a cold voice said.
The voice was like a blade scraping across her skin, raising goosebumps. She resisted a shiver. ’Who let a monster loose here?!’
She steadied herself. After all, she was a subordinate—a member of Vale’s team! She turned to see who she expected, but in a form far more terrifying than she had imagined.
Alyndra!
Her face seemed hidden in shadows, her glowing red eyes like the sun at its zenith. Her hand rested on her sword, poised as though she might draw it at any moment.
Slya instinctively knew she didn’t want Alyndra to draw that sword. If she did, Slya felt she wouldn’t even have time to blink before she was cut down.
Sweat beaded on her skin, though she felt cold. That was how oppressive Alyndra’s aura was. She felt an overwhelming need to say something.
"I..."
Before Slya could continue, she felt another presence behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back slightly as a hand came to rest on her head.
"You’ve done well, Slya," Vale’s voice rumbled from behind her.
Then he unleashed his own aura. It swept around her and smashed into Alyndra’s, rippling like a storm and ruffling her clothes.
Vale raised his hand. "Are you going to draw that sword, Alyndra?"
His face was carved from ice, but his eyes burned with green fire. When Alyndra had moved, he had been surprised, too late to act, and he still blamed himself for it. She could have killed Slya in that brief moment.
She was that powerful, that dangerous. Being close to her was like standing on the edge of a knife. The thought both excited Vale and made him want to fight. ’This is a truly dangerous person,’ he thought.
Alyndra’s smile widened. "I hate it when things don’t go as planned. But, Vale of the Steelclaw Alliance, why do you want to know if I’ll draw my sword?"
Vale’s hand tightened on Slya’s shoulder. "I think we both know why."
"Indeed," she answered.
They paused, staring at each other. The silence between them was thick with unsaid words. Then, as one, they exploded into action.