A bead of sweat ran down her cheek, and her breath grew erratic as her posture became unsteady. Even then, she didn't loosen her grip on the sword lodged in her gut.
"Miyuki!" Takae yelled.
She turned to Takeru, fury rising within her. "Is this his doing somehow?" she thought.
But judging from Miyuki's expression, her actions were completely voluntary. The only question left was—why?
"Don't worry, Takae," Miyuki said, her breath slowly steadying. "I'm not done yet!"
From her palms gripping the hilt, a white light began to envelop the blade.
Energy radiated from her body in a deep blue hue. The aura swelled and intensified until it resembled a raging inferno.
Standing at the center of the torrent, she looked down at her hands—then, almost like a fleeting illusion, she saw another pair of fair hands resting over hers.
They brought with them a strange sense of calm amidst the storm, their warmth soothing.
Then a soft whisper echoed in her ear.
"Call out my name," it said, "and we will vanquish uncertainty together."
Her eyes lit with renewed intensity, and with fierce resolve in her voice, she called out—
"Release: Yumei."
The energy surged to its peak—then vanished, as if swept away by the wind.
When they looked at her, she stood clutching a misshapen yet intricate white sword lodged in her gut, its edges lined with gold.
Takeru's expression hinted at concern, but he remained steady, watching her closely.
Takae felt the same tension, yet she couldn't help but marvel.
"She's already managed to achieve her release," she said softly, a faint smile forming. "She really is special."
Despite the transformation, the sword remained embedded—unchanged.
That was until Miyuki pulled the blade slightly free and said,
"Tower Series Number 54: Cerulean Stasis."
A septa-circle formed around the wound, followed by two glowing blue rings encircling the rotting flesh.
They slowly began to contract. As they did, the rot receded, compressing inward toward the blade—until it began to seep into it, blackening the metal.
Soon, the rings left her skin entirely, merging into the darkened blade.
Takeru's grip tightened around his rods as he watched.
Then, Miyuki pulled the sword free.
Shockingly, very little blood followed.
Upon closer inspection, Takae realized the wound had completely vanished—leaving behind only the bruise from Takeru's earlier strike. Her skin had returned to its normal tone.
Miyuki stood firm, holding the sword by its white, guardless hilt, the tip of the now-blackened blade resting lightly against the grass.
"This is unexpected," Takeru said with a grin. "To think a clear novice like you has managed to achieve her release—and at such a young age too."
"You must be one of those prodigies I've heard about," he continued. "Regardless, I will uncover the nature of your ability before long, and when I do, you'll be right back where you started."
"There's no need for that," Miyuki replied. "The nature of my ability isn't one that benefits from secrecy."
"What is it then?" he asked.
Takae looked slightly worried, but she too held the same question in her mind.
"Did you think I was kidding?" Miyuki said. "Fine, I'll tell you about my ability."
"Its name is Enchant, and it enables me to weave Vahir into my blade seamlessly, no matter its nature or usage."
With her right hand, she placed it over the wound and said, "I used Cerulean Stasis—a spell to deter and contain foreign and harmful energy signatures or infections within a defined zone between two bands."
"That is how I was able to remove the bacteria you shot into my body."
As she spoke, Takeru noticed her blade slowly regaining its color as the grass beneath it withered away—until the blade was completely white again.
"I think that's all the explanation you'll need," she said, easing into a stance. "Now let's pick this up."
Takeru chuckled. "I see what you're doing—acting confident in your explanation to distract from the fact that you haven't stated any of your ability's weaknesses."
Her gaze faltered.
"Which means there is a weakness—or more precisely, a limit," he continued as pulsing energy from his blood reformed the split half of the rods she had broken in their last exchange. "Now all that's left for me is to gauge that limit, and once I do, your tricks will be meaningless."
A soft breeze passed as silence took hold—only to be shattered in the next instant.
Without another word, both of them charged. A small septa-circle formed at the base of Miyuki's blade, and it became enveloped in a red energy that coiled around it.
She swung for his chest, but he parried with the rod in his left hand. He tried to counter, but the moment his rod met the pulsing blade, he was forced back.
Miyuki pressed forward, the glow on her blade fading slightly. She closed the distance before he could recover and swung again, this time aiming for his head.
With both rods raised before his face, he barely blocked the strike—but she didn't pull back. Instead, she pushed harder, the energy around her blade flaring.
"Shimmering Blaze!!"
The force of her swing intensified, the ground beneath his feet cracking and collapsing as he began to sink.
He turned just in time to see Takae rushing in from the side. Instantly, he shifted his focus, redirecting his strength into a kick aimed at her gut—right where the bruise lay.
She coughed blood, and her attack faltered.
He knocked her blade aside and moved to strike the same spot again, but she leaped back.
He didn't pursue. Instead, he turned to intercept Takae's incoming strike.
"You're getting sloppy," he said, pushing her back but making no move to strike her while she was open. "Is it because of your hand?"
She gritted her teeth and lunged again. As he raised his arm to counter, he felt something wrap around his wrist.
He turned—black chains had coiled around him, extending from Miyuki's blade.
Takae struck for his chest, but he stepped back just enough to evade—only to be yanked forward by the chain.
As he was pulled in, he snapped the chain with his rod—but by then, he was already within her range.
His footing faltered, throwing off his balance and leaving him unable to brace for the attack.
Her blade cut across his chest—shallow, but clean.
In that same instant, he abandoned defense and drove the tips of his rods into her neck and the upper side of her chest, toward her left elbow.
She staggered back, grimacing, before regaining her posture. He quickly rose to his feet as well, putting distance between them.
"Now the test begins," he said between breaths. "Let's see which body part you prioritize first."
"Because there's no way you can save both."