Yuno didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to.
He saw her coming through the violent disturbance she caused in the air currents. He tracked the exact trajectory of her hand, the speed of her broom, and the density of her gray magic.
With a smooth, impossibly precise motion, Yuno stepped slightly to the left, tilting his head back just a fraction of an inch.
Catherine's glowing hand sailed past his cheek, grasping absolutely nothing but empty air.
Her eyes widened in bewilderment and shock. She stumbled forward on her broom, her momentum carrying her past him. "What?! How did you..."
Yuno didn't give her time to recover.
Having achieved this new, profound level of sensory awareness, his understanding of mana control shifted dramatically. He realized he didn't need to force his spells out through brute strength; he simply needed to command the ambient mana that was already there. He was one with the wind, and the wind belonged to him.
He raised his right hand, pointing his open palm toward the staggered witch.
Hovering just above his shoulder, the tiny, translucent figure of Sylph, the Spirit of Wind, reacted to the massive surge in his magical refinement. She had been flying around him frantically, trying to blow the cursed ash away, but now she stopped. She looked at Yuno, her tiny eyes shining with sudden, joyous recognition. He was finally tapping into the true, boundless potential of their partnership.
Sylph flew forward, her tiny body glowing with a brilliant, blinding emerald light. She merged seamlessly with the flow of Yuno's outstretched hand, syncing her ancient, elemental power perfectly with his newly refined control.
"Wind Spirit Magic..." Yuno commanded, his voice perfectly calm, ringing out clearly in his own mind even though his physical ears couldn't hear the words.
"...Sylph's Breath."
The resulting spell was not a mere gust of wind, nor was it a simple tornado.
It was a colossal, hyper-concentrated beam of pure, devastating kinetic energy. It erupted from Yuno's palm with the force of a natural disaster, a roaring, brilliant green laser of wind that completely eclipsed the size of the ruined street.
The spell hit Catherine squarely in the chest before she could even raise her grimoire to defend herself.
The dense, suffocating cloud of cursed gray ash that had blanketed the plaza was instantly blown away, completely shredded and dispersed by the overwhelming purity of the spirit magic.
Catherine let out a horrified, blood-curdling scream as the sheer kinetic force of the spell slammed into her. Her defensive magic shattered like fragile glass. The impact threw her entirely off her ornate wooden broom, snapping the wood in two.
She was launched backward with the speed of a fired cannonball. The wind carried her violently through the air, sending her hurtling helplessly across the burning sky of the Royal Capital, completely removing her from the plaza.
Yuno lowered his hand, his breathing heavy. As the cursed ash dissipated, his physical senses slowly began to return. The blinding blackness faded, replaced by the flickering orange light of the fires. The muffled silence was broken by the distant roars of combat and the crackling of burning timber. The feeling in his fingers and toes rushed back with a painful, tingling sensation.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the sudden brightness. He looked at his hand, then up at the clear sky where the witch had been blasted away.
Sylph fluttered down, landing lightly on his shoulder, cheering happily and clapping her tiny hands together.
Yuno let out a long, slow breath, a faint, confident smile touching his lips. He had survived the dark. He had leveled up.
Miles away from the plaza, Catherine's violent trajectory finally came to a brutal, crashing halt.
She skipped across the slanted tile roofs of several large manors, breaking chimneys and sending clay tiles shattering into the streets below. She tumbled wildly through the air, completely unable to right herself, until she slammed heavily into the side of a tall, ornate stone tower near the edge of the Noble Realm.
The impact was devastating. Catherine crashed straight through the thick brick wall, a cloud of pulverized stone and mortar exploding inward. She rolled across a polished marble floor, knocking over heavy wooden tables and shattering expensive glass before finally slamming into a marble pillar and coming to a dead stop.
She lay there for a long moment, groaning in absolute agony. Her vision spun wildly, her ears ringing with the sound of the crash. Every bone in her body felt like it had been fractured.
Slowly, painfully, Catherine forced herself to her hands and knees. She coughed, spitting a mixture of blood and brick dust onto the pristine floor.
She looked down at her hands, and a fresh wave of intense panic washed over her.
The magic she used to maintain her artificial youth required a constant, heavy supply of mana. Yuno's devastating Spirit Magic had completely drained her reserves, breaking her concentration and shattering her active spells.
Right before her terrified eyes, the smooth, flawless skin on the back of her hands began to dry out and wrinkle. Liver spots bloomed across her knuckles. Her long, luxurious silver hair turned brittle and thin, losing its radiant shine. She could feel the deep, aching weakness of advanced old age settling into her joints, her true, decrepit form rapidly returning as the stolen vitality faded away.
"No... no, no, no!" Catherine gasped, her voice losing its sultry, velvety tone and cracking into a harsh, wheezing croak. "My youth! My beauty! I need... I need more mana! I have to steal more!"
She desperately looked around the room she had crashed into, searching for anyone, anything she could drain.
The room was vast, brightly lit by floating chandeliers, and filled with massive, long wooden tables covered in an absurd, towering amount of food. There were roasted boars, towering cakes covered in thick frosting, mountains of fresh fruit, and steaming pies. It was one of the royal culinary staging areas, where the chefs prepared the feasts for the King's banquets.
Huddled in the far corners of the room, trembling behind overturned carts of vegetables, were several royal chefs, dressed in their white aprons and tall hats. They stared at the withered, bleeding witch who had just smashed through their wall in complete fear.
But sitting dead center at the largest table, completely ignoring the massive hole in the wall and the dust settling over the room, was a very small, very peculiar girl.
She wore the dark robe of the Black Bulls, though it was currently dusted with powdered sugar. She had dark hair tied back in a messy bun, and her cheeks were stuffed full of roasted meat, making her look like a frantic chipmunk. Surrounding her were several fluffy, bipedal sheep wearing tiny chef hats, actively cooking and serving her even more food.
This was Charmy Pappitson. And she was completely, blissfully focused on her meal.
Catherine's desperate, frantic eyes locked onto the small girl. Through her panic, her magical senses flared. Despite the girl's ridiculous appearance and small stature, the amount of mana radiating from her was shockingly dense. It was a deep, rich reserve of magical energy, perfectly suited for consumption.