Rain began to fall.
Not a storm—no thunder, no wind to carry it. Just a thin curtain, descending quietly through smoke and flame. Each drop struck the scorched earth with a soft hiss, dissolving ash into dark streaks that ran along the ground like ink.
The fire resisted.
Then weakened.
Steam rose in low, drifting veils, softening the edges of the battlefield. The air shifted—still hot, still heavy—but cleaner now, each breath cutting less sharply through my lungs.
I loosened my grip.
The ruined naginata slipped from my hand.
It hit the ground with a dull, warped clatter. The blade, twisted and eaten through, caught the faint morning light before settling into the mud.
"It would seem the heavens are on my side," I said.
My voice came steadier than I felt.
Morgan laughed.
Weakly this time.
Blood trailed down her thigh, diluted slightly by the rain, but not enough to hide the depth of the cut. She leaned against her sword, using it more as support than weapon.
"So it seems," she said, breath uneven. "But you're without a weapon."
Her chest rose and fell quickly.
Mine followed suit—slower, controlled.
Sixty percent qi.
The number surfaced with quiet certainty.
I steadied my breathing.
No weapon.
Enough qi for four hundred simple techniques.
The thought ran cold.
Simple techniques are useless here.
Morgan shifted.
Her stance lowered.
Weight forward.
Sword angled slightly ahead of her, tip steady despite the tremor in her legs.
"Ahh," she exhaled.
A sound of satisfaction.
Then—
Flicker Step.
She vanished.
The rain distorted her outline for a fraction of a second—
Then nothing.
I turned immediately.
Qi surged along my arms, coating my forearms in a thin, reactive layer.
Guard Technique.
The energy settled just beneath the skin, tightening muscle and bone.
But if I reserve half a percent—
I can layer another.
The thought aligned with motion.
Clank.
Her blade struck.
The impact rang through my arms, force compressing inward. My bones numbed, a dull shock traveling up to my shoulders—but the guard held.
"Ha—!" Morgan gasped.
Her palm came forward.
Cinder Touch.
Her hand struck my face.
The rainwater on my skin flashed—
Steam exploded outward, heat blooming across my cheek. The sensation was immediate—sharp, biting, the skin tightening under sudden temperature.
I didn't pull back.
I moved forward.
My hand closed around her elbow.
Grip tight.
Before she could withdraw, I drove my knee upward.
It connected with her stomach.
"Ahhhh!"
Her body folded.
The force knocked the air from her lungs, her weight collapsing inward against my hold.
Still gripping her arm, I reached for her sword.
Fingers brushing the hilt—
"Ignite Medium!"
Heat detonated across my abdomen.
The rainwater there turned against me—condensing, then igniting in a violent burst. Flame spread across cloth and skin, biting through in a flash of searing pain.
I staggered.
My grip loosened.
Morgan pulled back just enough to regain space, raising her hand again.
Her fingers formed the ring.
Thumb to index.
First Petal of the Rosefinch.
I braced.
Body tightening.
Expecting the beam—
But nothing came.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Oh my—!"
Instinct screamed.
I moved.
Sideways.
A white sphere struck the ground where I had stood.
Three meters.
Close enough to feel the pull.
The explosion erased everything.
Water vanished.
Earth shattered.
The shockwave rippled outward, flattening what little remained of the surrounding grass.
The rain paused for a fraction of a second—
Then resumed.
Morgan didn't try again.
Her shoulders dropped.
Her voice rose instead.
"Mother! I'm done!"
The word carried.
Clear.
Logan appeared beside her.
Not stepped.
Not approached.
Appeared.
His presence felt… quiet. Not weak. Not hidden. Just absent of urgency.
His fingers extended.
Index and middle.
A simple motion.
I ducked.
A thin stream of qi sliced through the air above me, clean and precise. It carved through drifting steam and vanished into the distance without resistance.
"She's interesting," Morgan said.
She wasn't looking at me.
Her attention had already shifted away.
"But I'm tired of playing."
Relief flickered.
Small.
Brief.
She can't continue fighting.
But Logan—
He could.
My thoughts moved quickly.
Defensive focus?
Mirror Gate?
No.
Too risky.
No weapon.
"You injured her thigh," Logan said.
His tone remained calm.
Observational.
He rubbed the back of his head lightly, as if considering something trivial.
Then—
His thumb pressed beneath his middle finger.
He flicked.
Dew Drop Stream.
Water answered.
A thin line shot toward me, cutting through the falling rain.
I stepped in.
Punched through it.
My fist met the stream—
—and froze.
Ice formed instantly, sealing around my hand in a sharp, tightening shell. Cold bit through skin and muscle, locking the motion in place for a fraction too long.
Not enough.
I broke free.
But the delay lingered.
A normal Serpent Slash wouldn't reach him.
I lowered my stance.
Weight shifting.
My eyes flicked briefly to Morgan.
She had collapsed near the tree.
The same one Logan had sat beneath earlier.
Her sword lay beside her.
Good.
One variable removed.
Qi surged.
Second Strike of Xuanwu's Tail.
The technique formed in layers.
Serpent Lash.
Bubble Screen.
A localized field of qi condensed around my arms, filtering, compressing, reinforcing.
Range sacrificed.
Impact multiplied.
Logan stepped forward.
Calm.
Measured.
Closer.
Rain slid down his shoulders, dripping from his sleeves without resistance.
Closer.
I waited.
One more step.
Then—
I struck.
The first blow landed on his left arm.
The second cut across the right side of his abdomen.
The impact carried weight—compressed force breaking through his guard just enough to register.
He moved immediately.
Jumped back.
Distance restored.
He looked down.
Not alarmed.
Curious.
As if examining a minor inconvenience.
He exhaled.
Softly.
"Dew Drop Garden."
The rain responded.
Not all of it.
Some.
Certain droplets shifted.
They caught light differently—faintly glowing as qi threaded through them.
They moved.
Toward me.
Faster than gravity should allow.
Halfway—
They froze.
In place.
Then shot forward again.
Ice.
Sharp.
Fragmented.
They struck.
Arms.
Legs.
The impact staggered me.
Each shard embedded just enough to disrupt movement, cold spreading outward from every point of contact.
I faltered.
My footing slipped slightly in the wet, uneven ground.
I thought it was Serpent's Lash.
But it wasn't.
Logan lowered his hand.
"It seems we'll be taking our leave."
The words landed simply.
As if the fight had already concluded.
But I refused.
My arm lifted.
Slow.
Heavy.
Qi gathered.
What remained of it.
One final technique.
"Summer Rain—"
The world tilted.
My legs gave out.
Strength vanished beneath me.
The ground rose—
Or I fell.
I couldn't tell.
The sound of rain grew distant.
The heat.
The cold.
The battlefield—
All of it slipped.
Darkness closed in.
And before the technique could take shape—
Everything disappeared.