It was just me now.
Me, Seraphim Ascendant and the hostages trembling behind me.
A mess. That was the only word for it.
I'd been pushed back far more than I liked, battered into a position I never wanted to stand in. And yet… I had the upper hand. A fragile one. An ugly one.
I was the villain today.
I hated that sentence.
Killing them outright wasn't an option. Even if they were holograms, even if everyone knew they were simulations, my hands refused to cross that line. My stomach twisted just thinking about it.
So I did the only thing left.
I lied.
I'd listened to Ari lie for over a year. Watched her spin half-truths, weaponize confidence, turn absurdity into leverage. I could probably write a manual on it.
Mind games were part of the exam.
Fine.
Then I'd play.
Seraphim raised his hand. The swords of light trembled, angling toward me—toward the civilians.
He was about to attack.
I laughed.
The sound burst out of me, sharp and unrestrained, and it froze him mid-motion.
He frowned. "What's so funny?"
Instead of answering, I manifested a seat.
Light folded into shape beneath me, forming a crude throne and i sat casually.
The look on his face was worth the mana drain.
I tilted my head back and looked up at him, deliberately slow. "You know," I said, "for someone called Seraphim Ascendant, you're not very angelic."
His brows twitched.
"Oh don't glare like that," I continued. "You're not an angel. You're a flying chicken with a glow stick and a halo someone handed you out of pity."
Silence.
Then disbelief.
Then—offense.
"Quit your bluff," he snapped. "Surrender quietly. This farce is over."
I waved a hand dismissively. "See? That's exactly it. You've got an inferiority complex."
That got his attention.
"You hover up there so I have to look up at you," I said, gesturing vaguely. "Does it make you feel taller? Stronger? Like a god?"
His jaw tightened.
I could see it now—anger, sharp and restrained, coiled beneath all that radiant composure. And something else too.
Amusement. This wasn't me. Not really.
This was Ari.
I was borrowing her fangs.
Seraphim sighed. "Your insults are… creative. But meaningless."
A sword flicked forward without warning.
It grazed my cheek.
Pain flared. Warmth trickled down my skin.
The blade embedded itself beside my seat—then dissolved into light.
"I'm done playing," he said coldly. "Surrender. Now."
I didn't move. I just crossed my legs.
Rested my head against my hand, elbow on the armrest, tapping my fingers lazily like I had all the time in the world.
"And on what authority," I asked, "do you think you get to order me around?"
He stared.
"If I recall correctly," I went on, "I'm the one holding hostages."
Ten more swords materialized in front of the civilians' throats.
My vision swam.
Too many.
I was overexerting myself—I knew it instantly. My mana pool screamed in protest, my limbs trembling as I forced the constructs to stay solid.
But it worked.
Seraphim stopped completely.
I smiled, though my jaw ached from holding it.
"I've made my statement," I said quietly. "Now it's your move."
My hands shook. My breath came shallow. I couldn't hold this forever.
How he responded—how much he valued his image, his ideals, his precious moral high ground—
That would decide everything.
Seraphim had to decide fast.
I could feel it—my mana slipping through my fingers like sand. I had a deep reserve, deeper than most, but fighting two days in a row had carved chunks out of it I couldn't ignore. Even if I survived this, I wouldn't be back to full capacity for a week.
I couldn't hold this standoff much longer. My hands trembled.
So I did something unforgivable.
I dragged the blade across the nearest hostage's arm.
They screamed.
The sound tore straight through me.
This was wrong. I knew it. Every instinct I had screamed that I'd crossed a line I could never justify—but I needed leverage. Just a little longer. Long enough to force a decision.
"You're wasting my time," I said, forcing my voice to stay level. "If you don't want to watch a slaughter, act. Now."
Seraphim stared at me.
Not angry. Not shocked. Calm.
Then he spoke.
"Try it."
My breath caught.
"…What?"
His gaze sharpened, locking onto mine. "Try it," he repeated. "Let's see how far you're willing to go."
That wasn't defiance. That was a challenge.
My heart pounded as I turned toward another hostage and raised my sword—
Only for it to stop dead.
Light bloomed between us.
A barrier. Then another. And another.
Every single hostage was suddenly enclosed in a veil of radiant protection.
My advantage evaporated in an instant. I froze. It was over.
If I'd been willing to kill them outright, I might have won. If I'd committed fully to the role, crossed that final boundary—this could have ended differently.
But I couldn't.
Even hurting the first one had taken everything in me.
This was my loss.
I considered escape but it was too late.
I felt it then: pressure from every direction. I looked up.
Swords. Dozens of them. Hundreds even.
Suspended around me in a perfect execution ring.
I exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah," I muttered. "That tracks."
Seraphim descended, stopping just above eye level. "You fought well," he said. "You had spirit. But this was decided the moment you hesitated."
"I know," I replied. I didn't bother denying it. "Tell me something, though."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Why did I lose?"
For a moment, he looked like he might actually answer. Then his expression hardened. "I'd enjoy that conversation—but time isn't a luxury I have. Say it."
"…Say what?"
"That you surrender."
I shook my head.
"I lost," I admitted. "But I'm not surrendering."
His eyes narrowed.
"What kind of teammate would that make me?" I continued. "If you want me out, you'll have to knock me out or bind me. I won't hand you that satisfaction."
Silence stretched—
Then a familiar voice cut through it.
"You did great, Junebug."
I turned.
Ari stood in the doorway, clothes torn, blood at her temple, smiling like she hadn't just crawled out of hell.
Seraphim reacted instantly—half his swords pivoted toward her.
"Easy," Ari said lightly. "Unless you want to turn me into a cabob."
She looked at him, unfazed. "Lady Aurelian's in trouble. She's out of the fight."
His eyes flicked sharply. "You."
She shrugged. "Explosion earlier ring a bell?"
He stared. "What did you do?"
Ari tilted her head. "Depends. What would you do with the answer?"
Silence.
"What do you want?" Seraphim asked.
Ari stepped closer to the floating swords, poking one with fascination. "Simple. You let me and Juno walk, and we leave the hostages."
"That's not a fair deal."
"Oh," Ari said cheerfully, "then let me sweeten it. I'll also give you the antidote to the poison currently paralyzing Lady Aurelian."
His jaw tightened.
"She's under rubble," Ari continued casually. "Based on dosage? You've got about five minutes before she's fully numb. After that…" She shrugged. "Gravity does the rest."
She didn't need to finish.
Seraphim stared at her for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
"…Fine."
Ari handed him a vial. Then a small device.
I was free to go.
Before we moved, Ari leaned in and added, "Just so you know—if you attack us, I blow the building. Everyone goes boom."
Seraphim chuckled. "Duly noted."
He gathered the hostages and launched into the air, heading toward the ruined bank.
The moment he was gone, my legs gave out.
I laughed weakly. "You saved me."
"Obviously," Ari said.
"…Did you really have an antidote?"
She waved it off. "Coloured water. Detonator's fake too."
I stared at her.
"We should run," she added. "Before he figures that out."
I laughed—tired, breathless, relieved.
"No matter how hard I try," I said, "I'll never be that cunning."
Ari grinned. "Good. Wouldn't want competition."
Two heroes neutralized. Fifteen minutes burned.
We just had to hold on for fifteen more.
And somehow… that finally felt possible.