Clang!
Julis's strike connected with Irene, but before she could celebrate, she realized the "hit" was a trap. Irene had manipulated the angle of her scythe at the last microsecond, catching the impact on the reinforced shaft.
Whoosh!
In the next heartbeat, the Gravisheath spun in a dizzying, vertical arc. The purple blade lashed out from an impossible angle, aiming straight for Julis's torso.
"What!?"
Julis had no time to bring her guard back. The tip of the scythe whistled through the air, and with a sharp, crystalline snap, it sheared the school crest right off her chest.
The stadium erupted in a deafening roar of shock.
In a doubles tournament, losing a partner early was a death sentence. Julis had been too aggressive, leaving her flank open. She was now officially disqualified, leaving Haruki Aizawa to face the Vampire Princess and her sister alone.
"How... how did she...?"
Julis stared at the shattered remains of her crest on the floor, her mind spiraling into chaos. She instinctively looked toward Haruki, expecting to see disappointment or anger.
But Haruki's expression was as immovable as a mountain. He didn't look at her; his eyes remained fixed on the enemy.
This silence told Julis everything she needed to know. Haruki had never expected her to win this. To him, her defeat wasn't a tragedy; it was a predicted variable. The realization was a blow to her pride, but she couldn't argue with the results. Her months of "Satanic Training" had allowed her to survive the first exchange, but against a Rank 3, she was still outclassed.
"Hehe... it seems Seidokan's 'Rose' has wilted," Irene laughed, her voice dripping with malice. She didn't let up for a second, pivoting on her heel and lunging toward Haruki.
She was riding a wave of adrenaline, determined to finish the "Sword Ghost" before he could react.
SHING.
Just as Irene reached the ten-foot mark, her primitive instincts screamed a warning. It was a cold, jagged whisper in her mind—the smell of a predator.
She slammed her heels into the floor, skidding to a halt.
A flash of violet light crossed her vision. A microsecond later, her heavy scarf, which had been fluttering in the wind of her charge, was sliced perfectly in two. The fabric drifted to the floor like autumn leaves.
"Impossible! I didn't even see him move!" Irene's eyes widened.
If she had been even a hair slower, that strike would have cleaved her throat. She stared at Haruki. He was standing in the exact same spot, his hand resting casually on the hilt of Onikiri. To the untrained eye, he hadn't moved a muscle.
"You... you really aren't human," Irene hissed, her Star Pulse beginning to flare with a dark, suffocating intensity. "Fine! If speed won't catch you, I'll just make the whole world too heavy for you to breathe!"
"DECA-RUINATION!"
She swung the Gravisheath in a wide circle. A sphere of pitch-black energy manifested at the tip of the scythe, and the gravity in the arena spiked ten-fold.
"Oh?"
Haruki felt the sudden weight. His boots cracked the concrete floor as the gravitational pull tried to pin him to the earth. His movements grew heavy and sluggish.
Irene grinned, her fangs showing. She charged again, her own weapon exempt from the field's effects.
Haruki didn't panic. He focused on the "vibration" of the gravity. It was a heavy, low-frequency wave. He flared his Highland Soul, his internal energy humming at a high frequency to counteract the external pressure.
CLANG! CLINK! CLANG!
Blades clashed in a flurry of sparks. Irene was giving it her all, but her eyes were filled with increasing disbelief. Even under ten times normal gravity, Haruki was parrying her strikes with clinical precision.
"Is this it?" Haruki asked, his voice sounding genuinely disappointed. "I expected more from a Rank 3. Toudou-san provided a better challenge than this."
"SHUT UP!!"
Irene was livid. She backed off, her breathing ragged. She realized that even her gravitational field wasn't enough to suppress the monster in front of her. She looked back at her sister, Priscilla, and made a silent, desperate decision.
"Priscilla! Help me!!"
"Yes, Sister."
Priscilla walked forward, her expression soft and resigned. She unfastened the collar of her uniform, exposing the pale, delicate skin of her neck.
Irene lunged for her, wrapping an arm around her sister's waist and sinking her fangs into the white skin.
Haruki watched, his eyes narrowing. The crowd gasped as they witnessed the "Blood Contract" in action. As Irene drank, her Star Pulse didn't just grow—it exploded. The energy radiating from her became a violent, purple storm that cracked the arena's glass barriers.
"I see," Haruki whispered. "Using the life-force of another to fuel the burst. It's a crude version of the Darkin path."
He felt a spark of inspiration. He had always used his own blood for his techniques; seeing someone utilize an external source gave him a new perspective on energy harmonics.
But Irene was no longer interested in philosophy. Her eyes had turned a solid, glowing violet, her sanity consumed by the Gravisheath's hunger. She had become a berserker.
RUMBLE!
The Gravisheath rattled in Irene's hands, the purple light from the blade now so intense it looked like a black hole. The weapon itself seemed to be laughing, a high-pitched metallic screech that echoed through the dome.
"Haruki! Get back!" Julis screamed from the sidelines.
Before she could finish, Irene moved. She didn't run; she shifted. The air groaned as she broke the sound barrier, her footwork leaving craters in the arena floor.
"DIE!"
She swung the scythe. It wasn't just a physical strike—it was a wave of spatial distortion. The gravity around the blade was so concentrated that it created visible cracks in the air, a spiderweb of purple fissures that threatened to swallow everything in its path.
To the audience, Haruki looked like an insect caught in a web. The gravitational pressure was absolute.
KABOOM!
The strike connected. Haruki was launched across the arena like a cannonball. He slammed into the far wall with enough force to shatter the reinforced concrete, burying him in a pile of rubble and creating a crater fifty feet wide.
"No!" Julis collapsed to her knees, her face pale.
The stadium went silent. Even the announcers were speechless. No one could survive a direct hit from a blood-boosted Gravisheath.
Irene stood in the center of the ring, her chest heaving, a manic, twisted grin on her face. She waited for the "Winner" announcement.
But the announcement never came.
Through the settling dust of the crater, a faint, rhythmic humming began to echo. It was the sound of a blade vibrating at the frequency of death.
Haruki Aizawa stepped out of the rubble.
His uniform was torn, but his skin was pristine. He was holding Onikiri with a single hand, the blade glowing with a dark, violet aura that matched Irene's own energy.
"That was a decent hit," Haruki said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that carried across the entire stadium. "The weight was... acceptable. But now, let me show you what real pressure looks like."
Haruki raised his sword. The air in the Sirius Dome suddenly felt cold—not just chilly, but a soul-deep, freezing void.
"My turn."
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