"Blood Manipulation: Red Zone!"
That was the phrase he called out as she struck again, the same field as before repelling her.
Exhaustion was clear on her face, and every now and then her grip faltered from the pain brought by the rot.
She leapt back to Miyuki, who by then had completely repelled the rot from her chest. The two stood in uneven stances, their posture thrown off as they took long, heavy breaths.
Takeru, on the other hand, remained vibrant despite his injuries. He slowly walked toward them, the expression once filled with concern now almost completely gone.
The two charged at him, their swords both aiming at his chest—but they were repelled once again as the field appeared just as they were nearing him.
"It was a valiant effort, you two," he said evenly as they still struggled to pierce through the energy field. "You not only fought well under the circumstances, but you also constantly changed between fighting styles to adapt to every single scenario."
"But there is a limit to what you can do at your current level of strength," he continued as he stepped toward them. "It's a shame—I thought this would've been even more fun."
"Damn you!" Takae grunted amidst her struggle. "Don't you dare look down on us!"
A small red spark fluttered from her blade, and for a brief moment, her sword penetrated the field.
The two of them, unsure of the cause of the disruption, reacted immediately, tearing through the opening.
Takeru's face beamed with a mix of shock and an unacknowledged grin of satisfaction.
They both swung at the same time, and he was only barely able to block their swords with both his rods—though at the point of impact, a slight crack formed on both of the pulsing rods.
With a quick turn, Miyuki kicked him in the gut, sending him flying back.
As he was sent past the field with a bloody nose, he tossed both rods at them.
With their next step, small septa-circles formed at the bottom of their feet, and they zoomed toward him.
As the rods shot toward them, they suddenly began expanding—and by the time Miyuki blocked one, they were nearly four times their original size.
The rods turned into pillars, lodging into the ground behind them—but despite this unforeseen obstacle, they continued their charge.
Encircled at an unbelievable speed, Takeru materialized two more rods and, with a firm stance, stood and watched, waiting for their next move.
Then, from the flashes surrounding him, a black chain shot toward him. He struck at it before it could reach him, but it quickly reformed from the black sand that composed it and entangled his hand.
Tracing the chain back to its source, he saw it pinned to the ground by a black block.
Before he could turn, he was caught again—this time on his other hand. Just like before, it was pinned to the ground by another black block.
Then, from both front and back, the two rushed at him, moving as fast as they had since activating the spell—but once again, they were brought to a screeching halt by his Red Zone.
They had no room to struggle this time. The same force preventing them from reaching him surged outward in a sudden pulse, driving them back.
The shockwave left them off balance as they hit the ground awkwardly, but even then, they quickly forced themselves back into position.
Takae stood, breathless but defiant, her expression warped by exhaustion and pain. Her hand, which had begun to rot, secreted a mixture of blood and a dark substance. A faint blue hue of healing Vahir flickered as she tried, again and again, to reverse the damage.
It wasn't enough.
The rot had only slowed—and only for a moment. She needed to purge the bacteria completely, and fast.
She looked ahead, but her vision began to blur as delirium set in.
With a sharp motion, Takeru tore his arms free from the chains. This time, they didn't pursue him.
"Takae, was it?" he said as he drove one of his rods into the ground. "It's clear the bacteria are taking hold. Rot isn't the only effect they bring, if that's what you thought."
She looked at him with contempt—but her stance faltered as she coughed up blood.
"Tying your wrist with cloth could only do so much," he continued.
Then his expression shifted. He lowered his gaze, his face shadowed.
"It's for the best," he said, his voice low and steady. "You shouldn't have to suffer any more than this."
"What are you getting at?" she muttered, her body trembling.
"Despite everything," he replied, meeting her eyes, "we're the same. I know that's the last thing you want to hear from someone like me."
He adjusted his grip on the rod and eased into a throwing stance.
"It's better if I end it here. This is kinder than the life waiting for you if you survive."
The rod in his hand began to twist and churn, reshaping into something more violent.
"This is my gift to you," he said. "We didn't know each other long, but I wish you the best—"
"—on the other side."
Miyuki turned toward her and tried to move, but her vision blurred, her body refusing to respond.
Even so, she reached out—and with everything she had left, she screamed:
"Takae! Get away!"
"Goodbye," he said. "May the cold embrace of this world on you wither away."
Then—silence.
He released the twisted, raging rod.
As Takae tried to step aside, her balance gave way, and she began to fall.
All she could do was watch—her expression blank, her lips parted in silence, her eyes wide.
Then came a roar—
and a crash.