The two locked eyes for a long, lingering moment. After several heartbeats, a shot rang out, striking the monster squarely in the head. It failed to pierce the soldier's helm, yet the impact was visible. In that exact instant, both erupted into sudden motion. The monster lunged with its carmine-red fire-sword, while Mal met it with his own grey blade, draped in moss and red lightning. When the steels clashed, it was as if carmine flames were warring with crimson bolts. But this time, Mal did not recoil; he was not driven back. Within his body, his cursed, carcinogenic blood now coursed in a mysterious yet potent fashion. As a result, his strength rose to match that of the infuriated beast.
Yet even as they met, a hail of bullets - imbued with Leonard's will - poured into the monster's frame from the opposing window, while three icy shards sent by Medea buried themselves into its flesh. She was now fervently weaving incantations to ensnare the creature.
Ice blocks formed once more around its feet, and before the beast could shake them off, Mal leaped back and struck the monster with a torrent of red electricity discharged from his weapon. Simultaneously, five bullets slammed into its chest, and the monster lost its footing. Mal, however, was already closing the distance; his blade, again wreathed in red lightning, delivered a swift and precise slash aimed at the creature's throat - exactly where he had wounded it before. The sword sank deeper this time, biting halfway through the neck before it halted. Mal did not hesitate; he unleashed the full energy of the electricity into the monster's body.
It was paralyzed, and he felt a surge of satisfaction. That feeling, however, vanished the moment he glanced toward Medea. She was no longer a part of their struggle. In the background behind her stood two wolves, and she was just then turning to face them.
Mal knew she was strong in her own right, yet it was as if his body refused to obey, yearning to rush to the aid of the girl who had grown so dear to his heart. But he never made it. Just as he prepared to move, a sharp, searing pain tore through him. Looking down, he discovered a blade had skewered his abdomen - a blade forged of raw, carmine fire. He had allowed his attention to drift from the second-rank monster, and it was a lethal error. He immediately lashed out at the creature with his sword, even as several bullets burrowed into the monster's hide, forcing it to retreat and wrench its fiery blade from Mal's wound. But the damage had already been done.
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Medea now stood with her back to the duel with the second-rank monster raging behind her.
'Why? Why in the most wretched moment?'
Mal and Leonard had their hands full with the mutated soldier and could not aid her; more importantly, she could not allow the wolves to disrupt their fight. She had to slay them herself.
Until this moment, her hands had been free, but now she drew the rapier - the very weapon that had led them on this adventure and by which they tracked the second-rank monster. The two wolves stood before her. Mal had not taught her how to deal with multiple foes, but she had forced him to recount his entire battle in the square of Saint Alter. She decided now on the same approach.
It was time for her, too, to exert the full measure of her magic. Three long, circling icicles appeared around her rapier. Then, she immediately began to recite the spell of aerial imprisonment. The wolves, however, would not make it easy. Both lunged to the sides, intending to attack simultaneously so she could not block them both. She broke off the incantation and began a new, swifter one. As both wolves pounced, a small, levitating plate of ice formed behind her.
Medea turned toward one of the wolves and countered its assault. Extending her weapon, she sent two shards of ice flying with lightning speed; they buried themselves in the beast's leg and torso, slowing it down. In that same instant, the second wolf attacked from the rear. The small ice plate positioned itself against the strike and blocked the blow, though it cracked under the pressure. In the following moment, another attack shattered the plate, but by then, Medea had aimed a long thrust at the head of the leaping wolf and loosed her final icicle. It sank into the animal's skull, followed instantly by a direct strike of the rapier to the same spot, piercing the bone entirely and sinking into the creature's brain.
Medea turned with agility to see the remaining wolf preparing to spring. It was swiftly thwarted by a block of ice that anchored its leg to the earth. Medea was already running, attempting to flank the beast. It snapped at her with its fangs, but the attempt was parried by another ice plate that condensed in the air just heartbeats before. Her stride remained unbroken as she reached the wolf's rear. With one graceful motion, she swung and severed the leg that was pinned by the ice.
This threw the wolf off balance, and Medea did not wait, conjuring a light and rapid incantation for a simplified palm of the aerial vortex. She struck the wolf with it, and it collapsed to the ground. In a flash, she continued her weaving, and two bands of ice now scorched the wolf's head to the pavement. Medea, a smile now touching her lips, stepped toward the creature's head and ran it through with her rapier.
Both wolves lay upon the ground, shrouded in cold ice with their skulls shattered. Blood dripped from Medea's rapier, forming a pool upon the earth. In the next heartbeat, she froze the crimson liquid, and with a flick of her blade, shattered the ice and scattered it across the ground. Her first battle was at an end. She had endured and emerged victorious. The dead white sky above seemed to baptize her; yet instead of water, it was a baptism of blood and deathly frost. Her will now expanded and hardened, much like water as it turns to ice and her core started to freeze.