Mistle looked up at the blackened sky, his hands hanging lazily around the hilt of his katana. He whistled softly.
"You've got one nasty authority, Reaper girl."
"Just shut up," Yuna snapped, her scythe resting across her shoulder. She glanced back at the dark shadowy figures following them. "I hate Grud's Authority. It gives me the creeps," she shivered.
"Are you sure it's a good idea to just storm the manor?" Mistle asked, scratching his blond hair. His yellow eyes scanned the empty street, devoid of any people or movement. "I'm sure you did your research, but are you certain a direct approach is ideal?"
"My authority is up — no one will be able to interfere," Yuna replied with a smile. "Besides, my sources say the head of the family isn't currently in the manor. We'll kill the girl and anyone who gets in our way. It'll be easy as pie."
Mistle suddenly froze, staring dead ahead. Yuna followed his gaze.
Almie was walking toward them — bloodied and battered, her thorn-like blade gripped in her hand. The entire advancing party stopped immediately. The streets were empty and deathly silent, making Almie's footsteps echo loudly. Her red eyes, hidden beneath blood-soaked hair, stared straight at them.
"You damned whore!" Yuna yelled. "You went ahead and stole the kill, didn't you? What is your problem?!" she shrieked.
Mistle remained silent, his eyes narrowed. By instinct, he grabbed the hilt of his blade but didn't draw it.
"Yuna," Mistle whispered, slowly drawing his blade. "She's a traitor."
"What? What on earth are you—"
Yuna jerked her head to the side just in time to dodge a blade that came shooting down the slope. She grabbed Mistle and yanked him out of the way, then parried Almie's follow-up strike and landed a powerful kick to her neck. Almie smashed straight through the wall of a nearby building, sending bricks and dust exploding into the empty street.
"You fool," Yuna barked at Mistle. "You almost died. Keep your eyes peeled."
"I get what you mean now," Yuna continued with a sharp smile. "At the very least, we now have an excuse to kill her. We'll kill her first, then finish the mission." Her grin widened. "I think Christmas just came early."
A sharp, beautiful but piercing laugh echoed throughout the area from the now-demolished building. Mistle got to his feet in one smooth motion, drawing his blade, his yellow eyes fixed on the shattered ruins. Yuna grinned, gripping the pole of her scythe tightly.
Almie walked out of the debris, smashing stones and broken glass underfoot. She was still laughing.
"I don't even know what I'm doing anymore," she laughed. "I can barely see what's in front of me, but whatever. At the very least, one of you will die." She pointed her sword blindly toward Mistle.
The shadows lunged at her — twenty of them in total.
"Twenty-four," she counted calmly.
She dodged the first one. The moment she passed it, the shadowy figure exploded, taking a chunk of the street with it along with part of her hair. She leapt back as the rest tried to attach themselves to her body.
The figures shot toward her again. Almie held her sword with both hands. Her blade blurred. She danced through the gaps they left, weaving between the frozen attackers in mid-air.
Her blade suddenly halted. She smiled. "How about that?"
The figures exploded behind her, forming a small earthquake that shook the ruined street.
"She's gonna be trouble," Mistle smirked.
Yuna spun her scythe. "We can take her."
They stared at each other for a tense second, nothing more.
"Cleave," Mistle smiled.
The smoke-filled buildings behind Almie were cut cleanly in two. Almie dodged the invisible strike by bending so low that her nose momentarily touched the cracked pavement.
Blades clashed as both danced around each other. Mistle attacked with deadly precision while Almie defended against every strike, a smile playing on her lips.
Something pink caught her eye. She twisted her body just as Yuna's scythe separated them, the blade nearly tearing her in two.
Almie's blade struck nothing — Yuna was gone. Little sparks of purple light dashed around her. Mistle smiled as yellow smoke enveloped the area, covering him from view.
The scythe's sharp tip was inches away from Almie's left eye. She blocked it just in time. The force knocked her back — only for Mistle to appear behind her.
"Cleave," he smiled again.
The strike cut through Almie and everything in its path.
"That's checkmate," he grinned.
His face was momentarily crushed as Almie's fist — carrying the force of a meteor — collided with the side of his head, sending him spinning and smashing through debris as he flew.
Yuna's scythe came into view, hacking and slicing wildly. Almie barely avoided the strikes, parrying and defending against them all.
"How are you still standing?!" Yuna yelled. "Mistle definitely cut you!"
"Sorry sweetheart, I've got more durability than most," Almie said slowly.
"Like hell!" Yuna shrieked. Her weapon moved in a blur. None of the strikes reached Almie.
"I think I've got a handle on it now," Almie smiled.
"What?" Yuna asked, confused. Almie's blade skimmed her throat, forcing her to retreat.
"Yuna!!!!!" Mistle suddenly yelled. "Run!"
Yuna tried backing away, but she wasn't fast enough. Almie raised her blade high above her head. A white line cut through the entire area, weaving itself against every building, street, and obstacle like a web spun by a mad spider.
Almie smiled. "You would be trouble if I let this fight drag on. I'll meet you in hell."
"Ready… Set… Strike," she muttered softly as she lowered her blade.
Everything went silent for a moment.
Slowly, buildings began to crumble and collapse around them, raining debris onto the shattered street. The dark clouds parted gradually, allowing weak shafts of sunlight to pierce through the thick haze. The invisible barrier over the battlefield started to lift. All the destroyed structures were suddenly restored, standing pristine once more as if the battle had never happened.
Yuna's Authority had created a perfect separate space for fighting — identical to the real world in every detail. It trapped everyone inside and only dissipated when the user died.
Yuna's scythe slipped from her trembling fingers and clanged against the stone ground. Thin red lines began to appear across her body like fractures in glass. Her hands shook as she looked down at them in disbelief.
Her mouth opened slowly. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, mixing with the blood already there.
"I… I don't want to die," she whispered, her voice cracking into a broken sob."I still have things I want to do.
Her body began to fall apart piece by piece. First her fingers, then her hands, crumbling away like dry leaves in the wind. Her shoulders slumped as her arms detached and fell limply to the ground. She tried to take one last step forward, but her legs gave out beneath her. Tears continued streaming down her face as the rest of her body slowly disintegrated, leaving only her boots standing upright on the blood-stained pavement — still warm, as if she had just been there a moment ago.
Mistle stood in shock for a long moment.
"You know you didn't have to kill her," he said slowly.
"Oh?" Almie smiled. "You're still alive? Then again, the range of that attack is relatively small." She waved her sword lazily through the air. The people walking on the street noticed the blood and began gathering around, whispering and staring.
"Why did you do it?" Mistle asked through gritted teeth. "You could have easily knocked her out."
"Anyone who kills should prepare to die," Almie said softly. "It was either her or me." She took a fighting stance again. "Don't worry. Once I kill you, you'll reunite with your girlfriend." She whistled lightly.
Mistle's yellow eyes were bloodshot. He raised his blade high above his head and bent low, his gaze glistening with pure hatred. "You definitely don't know how it feels to be in her shoes. You don't know how it feels to be the weakest among the four generals of the Ordeal."
"Oh no, I'm crying," Almie said carelessly.
Mistle vanished from sight before Almie could react. He appeared behind her and struck. Almie's blade moved on its own, floating behind her back to block his attacks.
Just how many tricks does this chick have? he thought.
A cold shiver ran down his entire body — a feeling he knew all too well. The impending sensation of death.
He looked down. Behind her floating sword, Almie's eyes were glowing bright red. She stared at him with a stone-faced expression. Mistle went pale as realization hit him. He moved purely on instinct as Almie muttered:
"Eye of Vetna."
The crowd was already running. Almie's attack had sliced through several people, blowing their heads clean off. Everyone scrambled to get as far away from the fighting as possible. The once-busy street was now filled with screams and the sound of panicked footsteps.
Mistle dropped to his knees. His right arm was gone, along with a portion of his chest. He had barely managed to stop the attack from taking his entire midsection. Still, the damage was devastating. He was certain it would have been far worse if Almie hadn't been so weakened.
His vision blurred as he stared at the blood-stained pavement. In his mind, he saw a woman holding his hand, leading him through a golden cornfield. She lifted him up.
"I'll name you Elat," she smiled.
The vision faded. He continued staring at the pavement, now colored with his own blood. He wondered why Almie hadn't finished him off yet. When he looked up, Almie was vomiting violently. Thick black substance poured endlessly from her mouth. She was in no state to use the Eye of Vetna again.
Mistle grabbed his blade with his left hand and, with great difficulty, approached her.
The Eye of Vetna always hit its target, but whether it killed depended on the user and the opponent. Mistle raised his sword. It never came down.
Almie's blade shot forward, cutting his left arm cleanly and pinning it against a nearby building.
Mistle fell to his knees, his eyes misty. Am I this weak? Or is the opponent just too strong?
Almie wiped her mouth as she staggered to her feet. She stared at the kneeling Mistle in front of her — armless and gushing blood. With a quick gesture of her finger, her sword flew back into her grip.
"I'm sorry, Mistle," she said, raising the blade. "I can't let you kill that girl." Her blade hung in the air for a long, heavy moment.
Heavy boots struck the ground as something massive approached slowly. The air grew thick and deadly still. His hair was darker than night, his eyes cold and piercing. A huge sword was slung across his back. He was a giant of a man.
"Finally, the main course," Almie smiled. "Grud, the proclaimed god."
Grud stared at her in silence, his hand moving to the hilt of his massive sword. Almie ignored Mistle and walked past him. The smile on her face had vanished. Her hands trembled from the strain on her failing body.
She combed her bloody hair back with her fingers and sighed. She tightened the muscles around her torn torso. She had been cut and bitten through by both Mistle and Mernia, yet somehow none had managed to rip her in two.
She stretched, her bloody abs gleaming under the weak sunlight. Then she kicked off her boots, revealing feet wrapped tightly in linen. Grud's enormous blade was now in his hands.
Almie's sword hissed through the air as she swung it in a slow, testing arc. Both faces were cold as they stared at each other. The entire street fell silent. Even the screaming crowd seemed to hold its breath as the two fighters took center stage.
Grud covered the twelve meters between them in an instant. His blade struck like a hammer rather than a sword. Almie's thin blade did what little it could against the overwhelming force of Grud's massive weapon and raw strength. She blocked the horizontal strike with both her body and sword. The impact sent her flying through several buildings, crashing through walls and leaving a trail of dust and rubble behind her.
"Sis, get up!" a little boy cried. "I'm sure Mum must be with the escaping crowd."
"I'm not leaving without Mummy!" the little girl with twin braids sobbed, clutching tightly to what remained of her doll and the ruins of their house. Her brother, barely older than her, pulled at her arm with all his strength, but it was fruitless.
Almie rose from the wreckage where she had crashed. She picked up both siblings with one hand. "You're in the way," she growled. "Get lost before you lose your heads." She tossed them far away. The girl whimpered as she landed, too terrified to speak. Her brother quickly pulled her along as they ran.
"Spoiled brats," Almie spat blood onto the ground.
She wiped the blood running down her head with the wrap around her chest. "I'm filthy," she murmured.
She bounced lightly on both feet and tossed her sword from hand to hand. Still functional, she noted. She glanced at the smoky sky. "Northwest," she smiled. "I guess he's not coming after me." She disappeared in a blur.
Grud stood alone in the deserted street, staring in the direction Almie had flown. He took one heavy step forward. A large boulder the size of a cow shot toward him with tremendous speed. His massive blade cut it cleanly in two, the two halves crashing harmlessly to either side.
Almie appeared beside Grud. His blade instantly struck the spot where she had been. She hopped over the great arc of the swing, used his blade and arm like a springboard, and ran straight toward his head, her own sword gleaming.
Something dark hurtled toward her. She caught it from the corner of her eye and stopped mid-sprint just in time. A shadowy figure lightly skimmed the bridge of her nose. She backed away, leaping off Grud's arm and zigzagging to create distance.
She breathed hard and wiped the sweat from her neck. "I can still remember the last time we fought," she smiled. "Man, did I get my ass handed to me."
She made quick cuts in the air with her blade, tossing it around her body in imperceptible motions. With the sword now in her left hand and positioned behind her, she settled into a low sprinting stance. "But back then I was just a normal girl with a hoe. I wonder who would win this time now that I have a sword." She smiled and disappeared.
The dark shadow settled beside Grud. The big man's eyes darted around, unable to spot Almie.
"You might have all the strength in the world, but you clearly lack speed," her laugh echoed throughout the empty, ruined street.
He's more calm than I thought, Almie thought. She was behind him now, the debris kicked up by her feet still hanging mid-air. I should—
Her thought was cut short as Grud's blade suddenly appeared in front of her, cutting in a wide horizontal arc. She bent down just in time; the blade passed over her head with a deadly whoosh.
"Bastard," she scoffed, hurling her sword at him. He deflected the projectile with ease. Almie clamped her legs around his thick neck, her eyes a dull red, her slightly chipped lips curved in a smile. Her face was beautiful but decorated with dirt, blood, mud, burns, and sweat. "Thank you for the opening."
She slammed a large shard of glass into Grud's neck. The big man roared and grabbed her by the throat, flinging her like a rag doll. She smashed through pavement and buildings all around them.
The glass shard remained stuck in his neck, blood steadily sprouting from the wound.
Almie slumped against an abandoned cart overflowing with bruised fruits and wilted vegetables, the wooden frame creaking under her weight. Grud approached slowly, his colossal blade hanging low at his side, the edge still dark with dried blood.
"You had some sense killing Yuna and Mistle before they could use their authority," he growled, his voice like two boulders grinding together. "But you can't do the same with me." He raised the massive sword with ease.
"Killing a defenseless girl… you're cold to the core," Almie scoffed weakly. "Spike," she muttered.
Her floating blade rose to meet Grud's vertical strike. The impact cracked the thin sword but held. Almie pushed herself up on shaking legs, gripping the hilt. She bent sideways as Grud's blade slammed into the ground, carving a deep trench through the cobblestones. He towered over her like a living mountain. She had to leap high to reach his head. Her blade stabbed into the opposite side of his neck from the glass shard, sinking in shallowly. He's like stone, she thought, pain flaring through her torn muscles.
Grud's enormous hand shot out and closed around her throat, lifting her limp body effortlessly into the air. She didn't resist — she couldn't. Her body had stopped obeying her. Grud stared into her dying eyes, the fierce red glow slowly fading to a dull, lifeless haze.
"What?" she smiled weakly, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. "Never seen a pretty girl before?"
"I'll cleave you in half and go finish the mission," Grud said in a cold, business-like tone. He released her limp form as his blade descended. The edge bit slowly into her skin, cutting deeper and deeper until it suddenly stopped, straining against her grip. Almie was holding the blade with both hands, the steel digging into her body like butter.
"I was serious when I told the girl I'd put an end to the mission for now," she muttered to herself through gritted teeth.
She's suddenly stronger, Grud thought. I can't pry my sword from her grip. He released the blade. No matter — I'll crush her head instead. His massive hand clamped around her skull and began to squeeze. Tiny cracks echoed, but her skull held.
"Nine hundred and ninety-nine… One thousand," Almie whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you for being so close." A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "I hereby order you to death."
"You fool!" Grud roared.
A blinding white light erupted, swallowing the entire street.
Everybody around the domain of the Rose family saw the blinding white light. It rose at least two kilometers tall and a kilometer wide, a pillar of pure annihilation that evaporated everything it touched. When the light finally faded, the once-lush grounds were reduced to a barren wasteland of hot, glassy sand that still shimmered with residual heat. Almie stood alone in the midst of the now-charred street, the air thick with the acrid scent of scorched stone and melted metal.
Almie's authority — the Authority of Blood — instantly blew up every single thing within a kilometer. It was the ultimate human bomb, rendering her unable to move for a while. In her weakened state, using it had been practically a death sentence.
Almie couldn't see her own hands in front of her face. She was the only one left standing in the center of the blast zone, her body trembling from the overwhelming exhaustion and searing pain that radiated from every wound. She smiled faintly through cracked, bloodied lips. "So this is what death feels like… I'm tired."
"I love you, sis," came a gentle voice behind her.
She turned around instantly. A boy with bright red hair, a little over the age of thirteen, was smiling at her with heartbreaking warmth.
Her eyes lost the last of their reddish color as she smiled sadly. Her loose red hair hung over her bloody, dirt-streaked face like a ragged sheet. Little drops of tears streamed slowly down her cheeks. "I see… so you were dead all along." Her voice cracked. "Then what did I do all this for? Why did I join them if—"
"It's okay, sis. You did your best," the boy smiled gently. "Now rest. You've worked hard."
"I fucking hate you and your cheerful personality," she smiled back, tears still falling. "Yeah… I'll go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow I'll cook some stew for Carl and Lia."
Heavy boots thudded against the cracked, glassy ground as someone approached slowly. He was extremely bloodied and beaten up. His face was peeled away in places, revealing raw muscle and tissue beneath. One arm was completely gone, the other badly burnt and blackened. He was almost naked except for his tattered pants and the large, melting sword still gripped in his remaining hand. He limped heavily as he stared down at Almie, his once-imposing form now a grotesque shadow of itself.
"She died on her feet," he said simply, his voice barely recognizable through the damage. "The mission is a failure. I'd better report this to the higher-ups." Grud's words came out as a rasping growl.