"Wh-what… what is… happ-happening?" Her whole body felt weak and numb. Little did she know, this was the Fujin Prototype's special effect—a chance to inflict the "paralysis" status on anyone it struck.
"Gotcha," Lucas's voice came from behind her, his tone light and teasing. "Looks like this round goes to me."
If he could appear behind La Signora without a sound, he could just as easily snap her neck from behind.
Though La Signora was fiercely competitive, she wasn't a sore loser. She furrowed her brow and stammered, "I… I lost. Go… go ahead… finish it."
Hearing her broken speech, Lucas finally remembered the Fujin Prototype was still on. He deactivated it and caught her as she collapsed, his arm wrapping around her waist.
Smelling the faint fragrance mixed with cold air from the woman in his arms, Lucas couldn't resist. He leaned in and kissed her.
La Signora's body was still weak, leaving her unable to resist. She pushed at him halfheartedly before giving in and letting him do as he pleased.
After all, she was the defeated party. Besides, this wasn't the first time Lucas had… "bullied" her.
Her memory drifted back to that massage parlor in Mondstadt.
The slight chill brought La Signora back to reality. Her eyes widened in shock—her dress had been pulled down, and Lucas had already taken out the "real thing."
"What… what are you doing?!" La Signora snapped back to alertness. "Are you insane?"
"I won't kill you, but as the victor," Lucas showed no sign of stopping, grinning as he spoke, "giving you a little punishment is only fair, right? Don't worry—in this blizzard, no one can see us."
Both of them had long surpassed ordinary human physiology. The seemingly harsh snowstorm was merely refreshing to them.
"Then…" La Signora finally gave up resisting, grinding her teeth. "Then make it quick."
"I'd like to make it quick too," Lucas teased. "But you know my stamina. I can't really control that."
"You talk too much… ah!" Suddenly, La Signora's face turned red as she murmured, "Wait… wait, why are there two…?"
Lucas held the Fujin Prototype in one hand and the "real deal" in the other. The former was still hot from being tempered by the Bi Fang Flame, while the latter had been chilled by the wind and snow—one fire, one ice, one hot, one cold, alternating in harmony.
To make things easier, La Signora discreetly used her Cryo powers to form an ice bed beneath herself for support.
No one would ever know that within that seemingly frigid blizzard, there was such a scene of spring warmth.
Though Lucas would have loved to spend more time reconnecting with La Signora, the battlefield's safe zone had shrunk to less than a tenth of its original size.
Fortunately, their location seemed to be in the final safe zone, and the blizzard La Signora had created also deterred other contestants searching for Lucas.
Finally, Lucas let go, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Thanks for the hospitality," he said with a teasing grin.
"You—!"
La Signora was about to lose her temper when a sudden gust of wind tore through the air, instantly dispersing the blizzard around them. Footsteps could be heard approaching from the distance—two sets.
They were both disheveled right now. Being discovered by anyone would be absolutely mortifying.
But Lucas, always quick-thinking, glanced at the ice bed La Signora had just created. "Quick, get dressed. I'll hide under here!"
La Signora didn't know what else to do and could only follow Lucas's suggestion. He crouched down and slid beneath the ice bed. La Signora waved her hand, sealing the sides with ice to hide him, then hurriedly straightened her clothes and sat on the ice bed as if nothing had happened.
She'd expected other contestants, but to her surprise, it was two familiar faces—her teammates, Eula and Shenhe.
The hurricane that had torn through the blizzard must have been Shenhe's doing. Even with her Vision sealed, her incredible physical strength allowed her to perform unbelievable feats.
Both groups froze upon seeing each other.
"How… how is it you two?" La Signora said, feigning calm. "Didn't we agree to split up?"
"The map keeps shrinking. Running into each other was inevitable," Eula frowned. "But you, Lady La Signora, seem quite comfortable. You even made yourself an ice bed—what, playing sleeping beauty to lure someone in?"
"So what if I am?" La Signora crossed her legs nonchalantly. "I've already taken out four people. That's as many as you two combined."
"That's just because we've had bad luck," Shenhe said calmly, unfazed. "The special three-point target has been in this area for a while. Have you seen him?"
Lucas's heart sank. Right… I'm still the wanted target. In GTA terms, I'm at three stars right now.
"I… I didn't see anyone," La Signora said stubbornly. "Besides, if I had run into him, I'd have killed that man on the spot. Why would I leave him for you two?"
"Man?"
Eula's eyes narrowed. "If you never saw him, how do you know it's a man?"
Under normal circumstances, La Signora would never make such a careless mistake. But concern clouds judgment—under such stress, it wasn't surprising she'd slip up.
"I guessed. Is that not allowed?" La Signora shifted her posture. "And even if I did meet him and wanted to let him go—what business is that of yours?"
Her personality was naturally domineering and arrogant. Even among the Fatui Harbingers, she never yielded to anyone—let alone these two "juniors."
"It seems you really have met him," Eula said, her keen observation skills as captain of the Knights of Favonius Reconnaissance Company on full display. "If he's an acquaintance and you don't want to fight him, that's fine. At least tell us where he is, and I'll handle it myself."
"Hmph. I refuse," La Signora said coldly. "Keep bothering me and I'll kill you both to shut you up."
"That's exactly what I was thinking," Shenhe said, calmly drawing her weapon—an Inazuman-style blade. "We're still one point short anyway. Doesn't matter who we take it from."
La Signora's heart skipped. With her personality, she naturally wasn't afraid of fighting these two. However, while she'd managed to put her dress back on, she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. If a fight broke out, there was a real risk of… exposure.
After all, even if she killed them here, she couldn't truly "silence" them in the real world.
The three stood at an impasse for a moment before Eula broke the silence with a cold laugh. "Forget it. I'm guessing that target is some handsome guy, and Lady La Signora couldn't bring herself to harm him. Understandable, really."
This was obviously Eula's attempt at provocation, but La Signora still fell for it. "Handsome? Hardly!" she snapped back. "He's nothing but a shameless, vulgar brute!"
Though Lucas was lying beneath the ice bed, he could hear their conversation crystal clear.
Great. Now I'm a shameless, vulgar brute. This is the definition of catching strays while lying down.
Feeling annoyed, he looked up—and through the semi-transparent ice, he could faintly make out a hint of skin tone.
Oh right, La Signora is still sitting above me.
At that thought, a mischievous idea sparked in Lucas's mind.
He flicked his finger, sending out a small flame. The flame, no bigger than a bean, instantly melted a hole in the ice bed right where La Signora was sitting—a hole about the size of a bottle cap.
Lucas adjusted his position beneath, finding the perfect angle to… extend upward.
One, two, three… thrust!
La Signora felt a draft below, and before she could process what was happening, her body suddenly trembled.
What the hell is he doing?!
Her face turned beet red, but she didn't dare say anything. She could only bite her lip hard to avoid letting the other two notice.
"What's wrong with you?"
But Shenhe still noticed something off about La Signora's expression. She frowned. "Why is your face suddenly so red?"
"I'm… I'm just feeling invigorated, all right?" La Signora's nails dug into the ice bed's surface. If she weren't afraid of being discovered, she'd have yanked Lucas out from under there and taught him a lesson.
"Coordinates update every few minutes," Eula said, crossing her arms. "Let's just wait here. See where that guy shows up next."
"Sounds good," Shenhe stepped forward. "I've been running around for ages. I could use a break."
Seeing Shenhe approach, La Signora quickly said, "What… what are you doing?"
"Just finding a place to sit," Shenhe looked around. "This is the only clean spot around here."
La Signora's heart raced. Though the ice bed was opaque, she was currently being… teased by Lucas underneath. At such close range, Shenhe might notice something.
"Don't come near me!" La Signora said hastily. "Or else, or else I'll…"
"You'll attack me?" La Signora didn't take Shenhe seriously, but Shenhe wasn't afraid of her either. She sat down beside La Signora without hesitation. "Go ahead if you want."
If she weren't currently "stuck" to the ice bed, La Signora would've loved to teach this arrogant Liyue woman a lesson. But right now, just keeping herself upright was taking all her strength.
"Then I'll sit too," Eula sat on La Signora's other side. "Good thing this isn't the real world. Otherwise, after all that running, my boots would reek when I took them off."
Honestly, seeing these three unrelated women sitting together was quite the rare sight.
Especially from Lucas's perspective. Lying beneath the ice bed, the visual impact was… considerable. If he weren't afraid of being discovered, he'd have melted two more holes for a true three-way experience.
Wait, given his current position, it'd be more accurate to say "three-way upward."
A few minutes later.
"Are… are you two still not leaving?" Sweat beaded on La Signora's forehead as she spoke through clenched teeth. "Time… time should be running out, right?"
She was nearing her limit. She couldn't hold on much longer.
"That's odd. The guy's coordinates are still here," Eula shook her head. "You're right though—we're still one point short. Let's search the area. If we can't find him…"
"You're welcome to try taking it from us," Shenhe finished Eula's sentence. "Same goes for you."
"Hmph. You dare steal my line?" Eula smiled faintly. "I'll remember this grudge."
Actually, after spending time together, the two had come to understand each other better. They didn't really dislike each other anymore—the "duel" talk was just a matter of pride at this point.
The two stood to leave. Shenhe paused to ask, "You… they call you 'La Signora,' right? If you can't stand up, I don't mind helping you."
Even though she had no fondness for this Snezhnayan woman, Shenhe still upheld Cloud Retainer's teachings—do one good deed a day.
Of course, she didn't know that La Signora didn't need to do good deeds today—she was the one being done good to.
"No… no need," La Signora could barely squeeze the words through her teeth. "You… you two should just go…"
"Forget about her," Eula raised an eyebrow. "If she wants to sit there, let her. Let's go."
Shenhe nodded and turned to leave with Eula. But before they'd even taken two steps, La Signora suddenly let out a strange… sound.
It was definitely a sound. And one so oddly sensual that even women like Shenhe and Eula felt their bones go weak hearing it.
Eula immediately turned around, eyes narrowing as she stared at La Signora. "Something's definitely wrong!"
"What… what are you talking about?" La Signora's face was flushed, her gaze darting. "I… I'm just making noise out of boredom. Is that a problem?"
"No. That target's coordinates haven't moved since earlier," Eula approached La Signora, staring at the ice bed beneath her. "But there's nowhere around here to hide anyone. Except… that ice platform you're sitting on looks big enough to fit a person inside."
"You… you're talking nonsense!" La Signora's heart pounded, but she tried to stay calm. "How… how could I possibly hide someone in there?"
"Whether there's someone or not, we'll find out soon enough." Shenhe's personality was straightforward—she didn't hesitate. She raised her blade and slashed down at roughly one-third of the ice bed's length.
If someone really was hiding inside, this strike would either decapitate them or sever their legs. Either way, it wouldn't end well.
La Signora wanted to stop her but it was too late. With a crisp crack, a large chunk of ice was sliced clean off.
Even La Signora couldn't bear to look. But after a few seconds of silence, she realized something was odd. She looked down—the hollow interior of the ice bed was completely empty.
Lucas had vanished without a trace!
"There's… nothing," Shenhe said flatly. "Eula, looks like you guessed wrong."
"Ahem. I was just trying to provoke her," Eula tried to cover her embarrassment. "How was I supposed to know you'd actually swing?"
"So it's my fault now?" Shenhe seemed displeased. "You looked so sure of yourself."
"Enough. This pointless argument isn't getting us anywhere!" Eula turned away. "Let's just see who gets the last point first."
"My thoughts exactly," Shenhe said eagerly. "I don't mind proving who's stronger before our official match."
The two bickered as they walked off into the distance, leaving La Signora sitting alone with a bewildered expression.
After a long moment, she finally remembered Lucas. She looked around cautiously. "Are… are you still here?"
A few seconds later, a figure emerged from the nearby treeline—it was Lucas, grinning shamelessly. "That was really close. Almost got my head cut off."
"You… you still have the nerve to talk!" La Signora glared at him, then asked curiously, "But how did you escape? I couldn't think of any way to get out of that ice bed without breaking it."
The truth was, Lucas had dared to pull such a bold move because he had a backup plan.
In a previous simulation, he'd gained the ability to use "Void"—one of the elements beyond the standard seven. It granted him limited spatial manipulation.
At first, he could only move small objects, but with practice, he'd learned to teleport his own body short distances.
Though he could currently only move a few dozen meters at most, and each use drained considerable energy, it was still a massive improvement. After all, space-time abilities were incredibly powerful.
Just now, Lucas had used this ability to teleport into the nearby trees, narrowly avoiding Shenhe's strike.
"That's because…" Lucas scratched his cheek, deflecting. "Anyway, let me help you up. Your legs must be numb from sitting so long."
"My legs are numb," La Signora said coldly. "But not from sitting too long."
From being fucked too long, she didn't add.
Lucas stuck his tongue out. "Let me help you."
"Don't move…" La Signora's face turned red. "I… I can't get up right now."
"Really? The great Fatui Harbinger can't stand because her legs are numb?"
"It's… it's not because my legs are numb…" La Signora shot him a fierce look before whispering, "It's because… I'm stuck."
Lucas thought for a moment, then understood.
Everyone knows that in winter, metal in the northeast is "sweet." If you believe that rumor and lick an iron railing, your tongue will freeze to it instantly.
Saliva is warm. When it touches freezing metal, it instantly freezes solid.
And La Signora's "warm water" had clearly caused the same reaction.
Forcibly ripping your tongue off frozen metal would leave it bloody and torn. If La Signora forced herself to stand now, the result would be… similarly gruesome.
"Well, that's a problem," Lucas said with mock seriousness. "If you stand up by force, you'll probably tear that area pretty badly…"
"Look… look what you've done!" La Signora rarely showed panic. "What do we do now?"
"You could just sit here forever," Lucas teased. "Wait until your teammates get the last point and win."
"What if someone comes by in the meantime?" La Signora shook her head. "I don't want anyone seeing me like this."
Indeed, with her prideful, superior personality, being seen in such a humiliating state would be worse than death.
"Then there's only one solution," Lucas rubbed his chin. "Pour some hot water over it. That should thaw it out."
"That makes sense…" La Signora nodded. "But… where are we going to get hot water?"
True—out here in the wilderness, cold water was easy. But hot water? Lucas could control flames, but those were Bi Fang Flames. One blast of that and she'd be hairless.
"I do have some hot water," Lucas coughed lightly. "But it's… about 98.6 degrees."
"Ninety-eight…?" La Signora didn't catch on at first. A few seconds later, she realized—that was body temperature.
And liquid at body temperature could only mean one thing.
"No… no way!" La Signora shook her head like a rattle drum. "How… how can you use that kind of hot water…?"
"It's really not that bad," Lucas reasoned. "At least yours is frozen to something. I once had a friend whose tongue got stuck to a railing. I drank tons of water to save him."
Just imagining that scene made La Signora's face scrunch up.
But he had a point. It all came from the same place anyway—just a matter of clear versus… cloudy. Best not to overthink it.
"I… I understand," La Signora finally gave in reluctantly. "Just… just hurry up."
Lucas nodded. "So, from behind or in front?"
"In… in front," La Signora glanced down. "At least that way… it's less likely to miss."
"Don't worry, my aim's great," Lucas patted his chest confidently. "See that fly over there? I'll shoot it down for you."
"Don't waste it!" La Signora shot him a look. "Stop playing around and just do it!"
"I was just trying to lighten the mood," Lucas shrugged. "Alright then… here I go."
La Signora nodded and closed her eyes.
After all, this scene was just too bizarre to watch.
Soon, she heard a cheerful whistling sound. She opened her eyes. "You're whistling? Really?"
"I can't do it without whistling," Lucas said helplessly. "Been like that since I was a kid… oh! Here it comes!"
"Wait a sec—"
La Signora instinctively tried to dodge, but it was already too late. She felt warmth spreading below.
Sure enough, the ice melted. La Signora didn't waste the opportunity—with a wet pop, she managed to stand up from the ice bed.
The problem was, Lucas didn't seem to have any intention of stopping. It was like floodgates opening.
"That's enough!" La Signora said quickly. "Stop!"
"Can't just stop on command!" Lucas's whole body shook as he finally finished the "project."
The once-pristine ice beauty was now stained with filth, looking rather disheveled.
But there was something thrilling about dirtying something pure. Though the scene was absurd, Lucas couldn't help but feel aroused.
The blizzard around them hadn't fully dissipated yet. Lucas wouldn't mind going another round.
But there was still business to attend to. He couldn't afford to waste more time.
As for La Signora, she looked down at the mess on her body. Strangely, though she'd expected to feel disgusted, the revulsion wasn't as strong as she'd imagined.
Lucas's body had long transcended mortality. Even his bodily fluids were clear as spring water. Still, La Signora waved her hand lightly—the liquid on her body instantly crystallized into countless ice shards and fell away, as if nothing had happened.
"Good, that's settled…" Lucas smiled. "Wait—"
Before he could finish, La Signora suddenly grabbed his wrist. Lucas blinked. "What's wrong?"
"I… I've never been so humiliated!" La Signora gritted her teeth. "The humiliation I just suffered… you're going to experience it too."
"I was trying to save you!" Lucas didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Besides, your… equipment doesn't really allow for that, does it?"
"I…" La Signora's face turned red. "Just lie down!"
Lucas guessed what she intended. Honestly, if La Signora wanted to do that to him, he wasn't entirely opposed. He sighed in resignation. "Do you really have to?"
"What?" La Signora said resentfully. "You think I'm dirty? I… I didn't complain about you."
Hearing that, Lucas couldn't really argue anymore.
But just as he was about to speak, his body began dissolving into particles of light.
[Your team has acquired enough points. All team members are being removed from the field.]
"Looks like my teammates came through," Lucas waved at La Signora with a grin. "As for what you just mentioned… we'll talk about it another time…"
"Wait!"
La Signora tried to grab him, but he'd already vanished without a trace.
"That bastard…" La Signora stared at her empty palm, muttering to herself. "Next time we meet, I'll make you pay back… tenfold."
When Lucas opened his eyes again, he was back in the lounge. Beside him were Miss A and Dehya.
"Hehe! In the end, you still needed me!" Dehya grinned proudly. "Those three idiots tried to ambush me, and I smashed them all into pulp with three swings!"
"It seems I owe you two a debt of gratitude," Miss A said leisurely. "After all, I didn't take down a single person myself."
"Then don't look so smug about it…" Dehya rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you'll get through Round Two without lifting a finger."
"We'll just have to see, won't we?" Miss A blinked playfully. "Speaking of which, I wonder how many people successfully advanced."
Just as she finished speaking, Kujou Sara's voice came from outside. "Will all advancing participants please exit the lounge and prepare for Round Two."
At the Training Ground—
All of the qualifiers had arrived. Compared to the crowd before the first round, less than twenty people now remained.
And Lucas recognized almost all of them.
There was no helping it—nameless NPCs didn't stand a chance against actual characters who could easily rank four or even five stars.
Still, there were two unfamiliar faces. One was a calm, composed samurai in his thirties. The other was a petite girl with two small horns sprouting from her head—clearly of the oni clan, like Arataki Itto.
Lucas scanned the group, silently counting. Including himself, there were fifteen in total. He wondered what format the next round would take.
When his gaze met La Signora's, she shot him a fierce glare.
Evidently, she was still displeased about being denied her "punishment."
"First of all, congratulations on advancing," Kujou Sara said. Though she offered congratulations, her expression remained completely unchanged. "In the first round, fifteen contestants qualified. The second round will be a knockout tournament to determine the final winner."
Everyone exchanged looks. Sixteen players would have been convenient, but fifteen? Did that mean one person would get a free pass?
"Wait a second!"
A booming shout came from outside the arena. A burly man vaulted clean over the barrier and landed on the Training Ground with a grin. "You're short one person, right? Let this great Arataki Itto join in!"
That's right—it was that Arataki Itto. Though his teammates had advanced, he himself had been eliminated after falling to one of Watanabe Masaru's surprise attacks.
"Not again…" Kujou Sara frowned. "Get off the stage, or I'll arrest you for disorderly conduct."
"Cut the crap, you mangy tengu!" Itto barked, clearly unwilling to back down. "I've got plenty of strength! I only lost because of bad luck! If you don't believe me, ask my teammates!"
At that, Thoma pretended to admire the scenery, while Kaedehara Kazuha simply closed his eyes as if taking a nap. Neither of them wanted to be associated with him right now—he was too much of a walking embarrassment.
"Troublesome…"
Kujou Sara didn't waste words. She leapt forward, her wings flaring briefly before she landed in front of him with a cold expression. "You want to join the second round? Fine. Beat me first."
"You said it!" Itto's eyes lit up. He turned and waved toward the stands. "Hey, Miss Hina! Watch closely as this great Arataki fights with all his burning passion for you!"
Before he even finished, he charged straight at Kujou Sara, roaring, "This time, with the power of love in my heart, there's no way I can lose to—oof!"
His words cut off as Kujou Sara's fist drove deep into his stomach. With a dull thud, the massive oni flew backward like a kite with its string cut.
He really never stood a chance. Though powerful in his own right, Itto no longer possessed his Vision. Against a tengu whose strength rivaled Shenhe's, there was no outcome but defeat.
Besides, losing to Kujou Sara was practically a routine occurrence for him by now.
"I'll be back!"
His voice faded into the distance, along with his rapidly shrinking figure.
Though only a four-star in the official records, Kujou Sara's true strength was nothing to scoff at. Anyone capable of serving directly under the Raiden Shogun was certainly no weakling.
Just as she turned to return to the stage, Yae Miko stepped forward with a mischievous smile. "Well, that was quite the amusing little scene. Still, the oni had a point. Since we're one short… why not have General Kujou join the tournament herself?"
Kujou Sara frowned. "That wouldn't be proper."
"Do as she says," came Raiden Ei's calm voice. "It's better than giving someone a bye. Besides, this will be a good opportunity to temper your skill, Sara."
With the Shogun's word given, there was no room to refuse. Sara bowed slightly. "As you command."
"Now then, please draw your lots," Yae Miko said, snapping her fingers. A lacquered box appeared before the group. "Number 1 faces Number 2, Number 3 faces Number 4, and so on."
No one stepped forward at first. After a moment, Shenhe was the first to move. She drew a slip of paper and said calmly, "Number 6. An ordinary number."
"Then find yourself an extraordinary one," Lucas said as he approached the box and drew his own. His brow furrowed slightly.
"What's wrong?" Shenhe narrowed her eyes. "Don't tell me I'm your opponent."
"No. Just… a special number," Lucas replied, unfolding the slip. The paper read 1.
Which meant he would be the very first to fight.
Moments later, the large board displayed the first-round matchups.
Lucas finally saw his opponent's name:
Match One – Lucas vs. Iwakura Mitsunari.
Iwakura Mitsunari!
He was none other than the former head of the Iwakura Art—so that was who the stern samurai was.
What a twist of fate.
As the crowd roared, Lucas and Iwakura stepped onto the stage together.
But before the match could begin, Yae Miko's voice rang out once more:
"Before we start, allow me to announce a new rule to make this Transmission of Heart even more interesting. Before each match, both contestants may decide whether to compete using martial skill alone… or with no restrictions—meaning all abilities are allowed."
In other words, if both agreed, they could freely use their Vision powers.
Lucas nearly laughed out loud. The Vision Hunt Decree was still in effect, and now they were lifting the ban? Wasn't this just bait for entrapment?
Still, on second thought, Lucas realized the new rule wasn't entirely unreasonable.
After all, in previous Transmission of Heart tournaments, nearly all contestants had been Inazuman. But this time, there were several foreign participants—and the Vision Hunt Decree obviously didn't apply to them.
"You're not from Inazuma, are you?" Iwakura Mitsunari asked, his expression unreadable. "If you wish to use your Vision's power, I won't object."
"No need," Lucas replied with a small smile, shaking his head. "I promised a few friends I'd defeat you with swordsmanship alone—with honor."
"Oh?" Iwakura raised a brow, intrigued. "And who, exactly, wishes to see me defeated?"
"Mifune Satoshi. Shimada Shichirouji. Okazaki Kunihiko…" Lucas listed the names one by one. "Do you remember them?"
Iwakura fell silent for a long moment before answering quietly, "How could I not? They were once disciples of the Iwakura Art. So… they asked you to defeat me?"
"That's right," Lucas said with a nod. "And after I do, I'll claim your blade, Usurahi Manmitsu Amenoma, and revive the Iwakura school once more."
"A fine blade should belong to the strong," Iwakura said evenly. "If you can defeat me, the sword is yours. But tell me—why would a man from Liyue agree to take up their request?"
"In Liyue, we have a saying—'a man's word is as weighty as nine tripods,'" Lucas replied with an easy grin. "Besides, men like us… we'll risk our lives over a single promise. Nothing strange about that, is there?"
At that, a rare smile appeared on Iwakura's face—harsh and faint, yet genuine. "Though I've long since parted ways with them, I still respect their convictions. Very well. Defeat me here, before all these witnesses, and the Iwakura name… will be yours."
Saying that before a crowd was tantamount to declaring to all of Inazuma that this duel would decide the rightful heir to the Iwakura Art.
He drew the blade at his waist—Usurahi Manmitsu Amenoma. In the game's world, that sword lay rusted and forgotten deep within Enkanomiya. But here, it gleamed in Iwakura Mitsunari's hand.
Lucas had seen his share of legendary weapons, yet even so, this blade was no divine relic—merely a well-forged weapon, remarkable only for its craftsmanship.
For warriors like Iwakura, it wasn't the weapon that mattered—it was the strength of the one who wielded it.
Lucas answered in kind, drawing the blade Yotohime, forged from the phantom of a demon sword. Without channeling its true power, it was nothing more than finely tempered steel—a fair match for Iwakura's blade.
As the blade left its sheath, a faint gleam flashed through the eyes of the horned girl among the spectators. Unlike the other contestants watching, she had produced a small sake flask from somewhere, sipping leisurely as if the outcome of the duel meant nothing to her.
"Prepare yourself!"
Iwakura struck first. As expected of the former Kageuchi master of the Iwakura school, his swordsmanship was leagues above Mifune Satoshi's. No wonder he'd said he didn't care whether Lucas used a Vision or not.
An ordinary Vision wielder would never have matched his skill.
Unfortunately for him, his opponent was Lucas.
To make Iwakura yield completely, Lucas chose to fight him using the Iwakura style itself. Within a dozen exchanges, surprise flickered across Iwakura's face.
The Iwakura Art had deep roots in Inazuma. Many outsiders had learned fragments of its teachings over the years—its beginner forms weren't difficult, yet were highly practical. Wandering samurai, even bandits and ronin, often knew at least one or two of its techniques.
Knowing the Iwakura forms wasn't surprising. But to wield them with such mastery—that, even for Iwakura himself, was astonishing.
Could this man truly be heaven's chosen successor to the Iwakura school?
Having lost his Vision, Iwakura's bond to the art had long since dulled. Yet as he fought Lucas, something within him stirred again—the memory of the young swordsman he once was, who pursued the way of the sword with unrelenting passion.
When did that version of me disappear?
Ever since becoming a tactical instructor for the Tenryou Commission, he'd had no chance for such a pure, exhilarating duel. Now, for the first time in years, a spark lit his hardened features—excitement.
This—this was the essence of swordsmanship he had once chased. And now, he saw that same light in the man before him.
"Your Iwakura technique… is superb," Iwakura said, stepping back with a faint smile. "But can you withstand this?"
Lucas blinked in surprise. The stance Iwakura assumed was unmistakable—it was the opening form of Tengu Slash, the ultimate secret of the Iwakura Art.
But that technique was supposed to have been lost long ago.
"Tengu Slash?" Lucas murmured.
"So you recognize it." Iwakura nodded. "Unfortunately, the true form was lost to time. I could only reconstruct it from fragments of the sword manuals—to create my own version: Tengu Slash—Revised!"
As his voice fell, Iwakura's blade flared into motion, unleashing five thin arcs of light—more refined than the original technique, yet multiplied in number, their pattern meant to seal off every escape.
Lucas didn't move to dodge. He gripped his sword with both hands and answered in kind.
"Tengu Slash!"
"What!?"
Shock crossed Iwakura's face. This man not only knew the Iwakura style—he had mastered even the original Tengu Slash, a technique Iwakura himself had never truly seen.
In the next instant, Lucas's blade carved a single blazing arc. The true Tengu Slash shattered Iwakura's imitation completely—five sword-lights split apart like threads of silk.
A sharp whoosh cut through the air, followed by a splash of crimson scattering across the arena floor. A deep, jagged wound opened across Iwakura's chest.
Lucas had held back—had he used his full strength, the strike would have cleaved the man clean in half.
"Beautiful…"
Even with blood still seeping from his wound, Iwakura Mitsunari's face wore a smile.
He lifted the blade Usurahi Manmitsu Amenoma with both hands and offered it to Lucas. "From this day forward, the Iwakura Art… is entrusted to you."
Lucas nodded, raised the sword high, and declared loudly, "From this day on, I, Lucas, take up the mantle of master of the Iwakura school! All disciples of Iwakura in Inazuma, return at once—delay not! This is an order from your rightful successor!"
The moment his words rang out, the crowd erupted. Mifune Satoshi and the others in the audience were already in tears. From this day onward, they finally had a home again—they would no longer have to wander aimlessly.
Iwakura Mitsunari exhaled deeply, as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. His body wavered, about to fall, but Lucas stepped forward to steady him.
"Sorry," Lucas said quietly. "I might've gone a bit too hard."
"It's fine. To me, this scar will be my greatest honor," Iwakura replied weakly. "May you restore the glory of the Iwakura school… Master Lucas."
...
Such a dramatic opening match had the audience burning with excitement.
Though Transmission of Heart was a grand event, most matches were, in the end, simple duels of skill. The trained eye could appreciate the techniques, but to the average spectator, it was just a spectacle—entertaining, but hardly stirring.
This battle, however—with those two clashing Tengu Slashes—had been spectacular in every sense, both visually and emotionally. The sheer force of it had left the arena breathless, and anticipation for the next match soared.
Soon, the next pair—Contestants 3 and 4—stepped onto the stage.
"Match Two: Beidou versus Hina."
Of course, for Beidou, advancing had been a trivial matter. Lucas hadn't seen her during the qualifiers, unsure which group she'd been placed in—but her two teammates hadn't made it through.
Given her strength, protecting her teammates would've been easy. Which could only mean… she'd eliminated them herself to take their points. Knowing her, that wasn't exactly surprising. Beidou was loyal to her crew, but to strangers she'd just met? Sentiment had no place there.
Her opponent, though, made Lucas blink in surprise—the girl with the wolfish ears was the same one he'd met in that shadowed alley not long ago.
"Well, well…" Beidou sized Hina up, rubbing her chin. "Why do you look so familiar, sweetheart?"
Beidou had been traveling with Gorou and the others for quite some time, and they knew each other well. Even though Gorou now stood before her as "Hina," his canine features were unmistakable—it was no wonder Beidou was suspicious.
"You… you've got the wrong person," Hina said quickly, eyes darting away in panic. "Enough talk. Are we fighting or not?"
"Fight? Of course we're fighting," Beidou said with a grin. "So, will it be pure swordplay—or an all-out brawl?"
Being from Liyue, she was unaffected by the Vision Hunt Decree and could freely use her Electro Vision. Hina, however, though a member of the Resistance Army, still had to keep her identity hidden. She shook her head. "I don't have a Vision. But if you want to go all out, I don't mind."
Her transformed body was far stronger than before, and she was confident that her power could make up for the lack of a Vision.
"In that case, I won't use mine either." Beidou summoned a massive greatsword in her hands, grinning. "Let's begin!"
"Go, Miss Hina! You've got this!"
A booming voice suddenly echoed from the stands. The crowd turned—and there was Arataki Itto, the same man Kujou Sara had launched clean out of the arena earlier.
He was scraped and bruised from the fall, but that didn't stop him from rushing back, hollering encouragement at the top of his lungs.
Hina's face darkened with embarrassment. She frowned deeply—clearly, she wasn't pleased to have this loud, simple-minded man cheering her on.
Naturally so. Even if her body was now that of a girl, her heart was still very much Gorou's. She had no interest in men—least of all this one.
The two exchanged no further words. Hina drew her blade, and the match began.
Inazuman warriors typically favored swords or katanas; fighters who wielded massive claymores like Beidou were rare. Her sweeping, thunderous attacks left many spectators wide-eyed in awe.
Hina's strength had improved immensely, but even so, facing the woman who could split sea monsters in two with a single swing was no easy feat. The biggest difference lay in experience—Beidou's countless battles across the docks and seas of Liyue had honed her instincts to razor sharpness, while Hina's technique still carried traces of inexperience.
With a metallic clang, their blades locked. Hina gritted her teeth, straining, while Beidou remained utterly relaxed, as if the fight were no more than a casual spar.
"You know…" Beidou said suddenly, smiling. "You're actually Gorou, aren't you?"
"Eh!?" Hina froze, her face instantly flushing red. "How… how did you know!?"
Kaedehara Kazuha could've recognized her—that would've made sense. But Beidou too? How could she have seen through it?
"Heh. I just guessed," Beidou said, chuckling. "Didn't think you'd actually admit it."
Damn it! She'd been tricked!
Beidou couldn't help but laugh at Hina's puffed-up, flustered expression. "So that's why you ran off the other day, huh? Because you turned into a girl?"
"So what if I did?" Hina snapped, brow furrowing. "Who I am doesn't matter. Let's keep fighting!"
But before she could move, Beidou's grip slipped. Her greatsword spun from her hands, twirling through the air before embedding itself deep in the ground.
"Ah, my weapon slipped," Beidou said, feigning surprise with impeccable acting. "Guess that means I lose."
Hina stared, stunned. She could tell immediately that Beidou had done it on purpose. "You… what's the meaning of this?"
She knew perfectly well that if the fight continued, even in her enhanced state, she probably couldn't beat this seasoned veteran.
"I only joined this tournament for fun," Beidou said with a shrug and a grin. "Honestly, watching you keep going sounds way more entertaining than winning myself. So… go on. Give it your all."
"The third match: Kaedehara Kazuha versus A."
The tournament continued in full swing. When "A" stepped onto the stage for the third round, Lucas couldn't help but be intrigued.
That mysterious teammate from the preliminaries—he had the feeling he'd seen her somewhere before. Maybe, if he could see her fight, he'd finally get some answers.
"Looks like you've got quite the skill with a blade," A said with a teasing smile. "But fighting and killing aren't really my thing. You don't mind if I use a different kind of power, do you?"
Kazuha nodded slightly. "As you wish."
Though he possessed a Vision, like Hina, he was now a wanted man and naturally couldn't use its power. Besides, the reason he had joined the Transmission of Heart tournament was to find Lucas. Now that Lucas was right there, his purpose had shifted—this was merely training, nothing more. There was no need to use his Vision.
"Go, Mom!"
A bright, energetic voice suddenly rang out from the stands. Klee, ignoring Jean's attempts to stop her, was waving her arms and cheering with all her might toward the woman on stage.
Mom?
Lucas froze. In that instant, every question in his mind found its answer.
No wonder she'd seemed so familiar. So "A" was… Alice!
He should've realized it long ago.
"Well, well, you caught me," she said with a playful sigh. Now that her identity was exposed, Alice made no effort to hide it further. She removed her mask, revealing an unearthly beauty, and waved toward Klee with a bright smile. "As expected of my daughter—you recognized me right away. Unlike some people... rather disappointing, don't you think?"
As she said this, her gaze flicked toward Lucas—casual, but sharp enough to make his back go cold.
They had only met once, but they had shared a kiss.
What annoyed Alice the most was that, by all rights, her looks were unforgettable to any man. Yet somehow, this man had failed to recognize her.
Either his memory was atrocious—
Or he'd met so many beautiful women that she simply didn't stand out anymore.
Either reason was enough to make any woman furious.
"So it really is her," Yae Miko murmured from the viewing platform, a rare trace of exasperation crossing her face. "That unexpected woman… hopefully she won't cause too much trouble."
Her concern was understandable. After all, Alice's chaotic streak put even her own to shame. And to make matters worse, the woman's whims were matched only by her recklessness. Letting Alice participate in the Transmission of Heart tournament was like placing a ticking time bomb in the arena.
"No need to panic," the Raiden Shogun said with a frown. "If she does anything strange, the two of us together should be able to subdue her."
Her words carried the same confidence as a monk in Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber declaring, "Even Zhang Sanfeng couldn't fight off the entire Shaolin Temple at once."
"Ladies first," Kazuha said politely. "Please, make your move."
"But…" Alice tilted her head and smiled. "Haven't I already?"
She raised a finger and pointed upward.
Kazuha blinked. The ground beneath his feet had grown dark. Looking up, he saw a massive fireball hanging above the arena, slowly descending toward him.
It was so enormous it would engulf the entire platform—there was nowhere to dodge.
To summon something like that from thin air… just who was this woman?
That single move told Kazuha everything he needed to know—he was completely outmatched.
"Holy—" Dehya, watching from below, couldn't help clicking her tongue. "I figured she was strong, but this… this is insane."
She, too, was a Pyro Vision holder, but even she couldn't imagine creating such a colossal fireball.
Kujou Sara, on the other hand, was already pale, her wings twitching as if in phantom pain. Facing that woman again gave her a very particular kind of trauma.
"As expected of Miss Alice…" Jean murmured. "Her power is still terrifying."
"Mom's amazing!" Klee cheered, eyes sparkling. "If she used that to fish—"
"That would evaporate the entire lake," Jean said sternly. "And someone would be spending the next ten years grounded."
As the fireball sank lower, the air grew hotter. Even though its target was only the arena, some of the more timid spectators were already fidgeting nervously.
"So?" Alice smiled. "How will you escape this predicament?"
"My blade can't cut through that fireball," Kazuha said coolly, eyes flashing. "But I can reach you!"
If he struck down the caster, the spell would naturally break.
In a heartbeat, he was upon her. Alice didn't move—whether from carelessness or confidence, no one could tell.
But just as Kazuha's blade was about to strike, something impossible happened. The steel edge sank as if into molten lava, melting instantly into liquid iron, leaving only the hilt in his hand.
"So this is the difference between us," Kazuha muttered, momentarily stunned before giving a faint, rueful smile. "That's enough. I yield."
For a warrior, surrender was never honorable—but against such overwhelming power, there was no other choice.
Alice smiled. "Good match."
But the fireball above showed no sign of stopping.
Kazuha's eyes widened. "You've already won! Why not dispel it?"
"Because," Alice said with a mischievous glint, snapping her fingers, "it's a little gift for my daughter."
With a thunderous boom, the giant fireball burst apart—
and transformed into a magnificent display of fireworks.
In the sky above the arena bloomed the image of a small girl, shining brilliantly against the light.
That face, of course, belonged to Klee.
Seeing the little girl's bright, adorable expression, Kaedehara Kazuha stood frozen for a long moment before letting out a helpless smile. "So I was completely played this time, huh," he murmured.
...
The third match ended in laughter and celebration.
The fourth round featured Lumine against Kuki Shinobu. There wasn't much suspense in this one—though Shinobu's strength was impressive, Lumine had journeyed through three nations and awakened three elemental powers. After dozens of exchanges, Shinobu's weapon was struck from her hands, and she could only admit defeat.
She didn't seem disappointed, though. After all, her participation in the Transmission of Heart was at Yae Miko's request—just another task to complete. If she had fought seriously, it wouldn't have been so easy for Lumine to claim victory.
"Oh, I lost?" Shinobu had barely stepped off the stage when Arataki Itto bounded up to her, grinning from ear to ear. "Shinobu, I watched your match! You were amazing out there!"
Shinobu shot him a glare. "Why do you look so happy that I lost?"
"Of course I'm happy!" Itto said without shame. "If you kept winning, you'd end up fighting Miss Hina, and I wouldn't know who to cheer for!"
Shinobu was just about to scold him when Lucas walked over with a friendly smile.
"Well, if it isn't my little brother Lucas!" Itto laughed, slapping him heartily on the shoulder. "Wait, you two know each other?"
"Yeah." Lucas glanced at Shinobu, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I wasn't feeling well before, and Shinobu helped me with a massage."
Of course, the details of that massage could never be shared with Arataki Itto.
Shinobu's face flushed crimson. "It was… just a normal massage!"
"Right, right," Lucas said with a lazy grin. "Especially that move—'high-speed triple spin strike.' That was incredible."
Shinobu shot him a murderous look. Fortunately, Itto's simple-mindedness saved them; he didn't understand a thing and instead looked amazed. "Shinobu actually gave you a massage? That's rare! Ever since she got her certification, she's never massaged anyone! Shinobu, you should give me one next time!"
"Sure," Shinobu said with a dismissive wave. "Ten billion Mora per session."
"That's robbery!" Itto said solemnly. "You know me—my wallet's never held more than ten thousand."
Before Lucas could add anything, the fifth match began.
"The fifth match: Dehya versus Ibuki-douji!"
Dehya?
At the mention of her name, Lucas's gaze shifted to the arena. She had been his teammate in the preliminaries, and with her strength, victory shouldn't be out of reach.
Across from her stood a horned oni girl, still clutching a gourd-shaped flask and taking casual swigs even after stepping onto the stage.
"Hey, hey," Dehya said with her hands on her hips, irritation flickering in her voice. "Now's not the time to be drinking. I'm not fighting a drunk."
"Relax," the woman—Ibuki-douji—replied lazily. "I've never been drunk in my life. And besides, against someone like you, I don't need to stay sober."
"What!?"
The instant disdain flashed in Ibuki's tone, Dehya's temper exploded. She cracked her knuckles with a dangerous grin. "Guess that pretty face of yours is about to get ruined. So tell me—are we keeping this to hand-to-hand, or…"
"Use whatever you've got," Ibuki said with a small hiccup. "Otherwise, this might get boring."
"Fine! You said it!"
Flames burst from Dehya's body, blazing hot and fierce.
She wasn't from Inazuma, so she didn't need to hide her Vision's power.
Last time, her strength had faltered thanks to Lucas's teasing, leaving her at a disadvantage against Sayu and the others. But now, she was in perfect condition—and burning with anger besides. The surge of Pyro energy made even the proud oni girl take half a step back, frowning slightly at the intense heat.
Dehya gripped her greatsword with one hand and charged. Just as everyone expected her to strike head-on, she hurled the massive blade instead.
The weapon spun like a fiery windmill, roaring toward Ibuki's waist. If it connected, it would slice her clean in half.
But Ibuki didn't even flinch. Her body bent like a serpent, dropping into an effortless backbend as the blazing blade whooshed past her abdomen.
With a loud clang, the sword embedded itself in the wall behind the spectator seats, sending several nearby onlookers stumbling back, faces pale.
"Well, giving up your weapon already?" Ibuki rose smoothly, her smile taunting. "Or is that the only trick you've got?"
She didn't even finish the sentence before Dehya was already upon her. Flames wrapped around her fists, burning bright.
"This is my strongest form!" Dehya roared, driving her fist toward Ibuki's face. "Flamehowl Lion Fist!"
Even before impact, the sheer force of her punch stirred Ibuki's long hair, the heat biting at her skin.
If that landed, Ibuki's beautiful face would be finished.
But with a sharp crack, Dehya's blazing fist met the gourd in Ibuki's hand—and shattered it to pieces.
Wine splashed everywhere, soaking Dehya from head to toe. The fiery alcohol caught alight instantly, making her blaze even brighter—like a lion with a mane of living flame.
"What strong wine!"
Dehya laughed wildly. "This fire… I'll—hic—"
Before she could finish, her eyes glazed over. The burning liquor had filled the air with heavy fumes, seeping straight into her body. Even for someone with her tolerance, dizziness hit fast. The world began to spin, and her knees wobbled as everything turned upside down.
"S-strange…"
Dehya swayed unsteadily, staring at Ibuki-douji with a puzzled look. "Why… why are there three of you now?"
There was an old saying in Sumeru: you might find a mercenary who dislikes women, but never one who doesn't drink.
As someone who lived each day on the edge of a blade, Dehya wasn't exactly a heavy drinker—but her tolerance easily surpassed that of most men.
Yet whatever liquor was in Ibuki-douji's gourd was something otherworldly. The scent alone had already left her teetering between wakefulness and drunken haze.
"How dull," Ibuki said, shaking her head with open disappointment. "I thought I'd finally found someone who could entertain me. But this little lion is pathetic—drunk after just a whiff."
"I… I'm not drunk!"
Still slurring, Dehya stubbornly protested. But her legs were no longer listening to her; with the last of her strength, she lunged clumsily toward Ibuki.
Her vision spun, her sense of distance and direction gone. Instead of striking her target, she missed completely and went tumbling off the stage headfirst.
The arena platform stood at least a meter high—enough that a headfirst fall would end badly even for someone with her resilience.
But before she could hit the ground, a figure appeared beneath her, catching her securely in his arms.
The mercenary woman from Sumeru had few acquaintances in the arena. The one who caught her could only be Lucas.
"Well, that was fast," Ibuki called from above, leaning over the edge of the platform with a mocking grin. "Still the same as ever, huh? Always the selfless hero."
The same as ever?
Lucas blinked. "Do… I know you?"
Ibuki's expression chilled. "Hmph. No. You don't. But don't worry—you'll remember me soon enough. Keep that neck of yours clean. I'll deal with you later."
With that, she turned and walked off. Lucas was about to ask more when he suddenly felt warmth against his neck.
Dehya had wrapped her arms tightly around him.
The fierce lioness of the desert had turned into a purring kitten, rubbing the tips of her hair against his chest like soft cat ears.
Lucas had been close with plenty of women before—even Shenhe, despite her years of cultivation and restraint, still felt soft and yielding in his arms.
But Dehya's body was taut with muscle and heat. And drunk as she was, her strength was unchecked. The sensation of her pressing against him was unlike anything he'd felt before.
He was still debating how to pry her off when something warm and wet brushed against his cheek.
Dehya was licking him.
And unless it was his imagination, her tongue felt rough—almost like that of a feline, lined with tiny barbs that scraped lightly across his skin.
A bold thought flickered across Lucas's mind for an instant.
Of course, surrounded by a crowd, that was all it could ever be—a thought.
Still, Dehya, lost in her drunken haze, kept going. Like a cat licking herself clean, she licked higher and higher… until she reached his lips.
"In broad daylight—what do you think you're doing!?"
A sharp, authoritative voice rang out behind him.
Kujou Sara strode forward, her gaze cold as steel. "Put her down. Now."
As a general of the Tenryou Commission, she couldn't possibly ignore such a public disturbance.
Normally, she would have handled such incidents with complete composure. But seeing Lucas held so tightly by another woman stirred something strangely unpleasant in her chest.
"I'd love to," Lucas said helplessly. "But look at her—she's clinging to me like a sloth. I can't get her off."
Without another word, Kujou Sara seized Dehya's wrist.
Thanks to her Tengu bloodline, her strength was naturally overwhelming. Even Shenhe might not have been a match for her—let alone a drunken Dehya. The lioness frowned faintly as she was pried loose, then slumped into deep sleep.
The stench of liquor on her breath made Sara wrinkle her nose. She signaled to the waiting medics, who quickly came to carry Dehya away.
"Phew." Lucas exhaled in relief. "Finally free."
"Free?" Sara said coolly. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself."
She wasn't wrong—if he had really wanted to break free, he could have easily done so. But perhaps… he hadn't tried very hard.
He opened his mouth to explain, but another familiar voice cut through the air.
"The next match is about to begin. Are you two planning to stand there chatting all day?"
The speaker approached, her tone calm and detached—Raiden Mai.
Because of the mask she wore, her appearance was altered. Otherwise, Kujou Sara would have immediately recognized her—for Mai's features were nearly identical to the Raiden Shogun's.
Yes. The next round was between Kujou Sara and Raiden Mai.
Even with her face concealed, Sara couldn't shake the strange feeling of familiarity emanating from the woman before her.
On the arena stage, the air grew tense.
Neither of them was talkative by nature. Words were unnecessary; a single glance was enough to communicate intent.
Both drew their weapons at once—Raiden Mai unsheathing a katana, while Kujou Sara, instead of her bow, drew a blade of her own.
"So," Mai murmured, "what should I do?"
She wasn't asking anyone present. The question was meant for the Raiden Shogun, deep within her consciousness.
Since her "system upgrade," her strength had skyrocketed—her swordsmanship especially. If it came down to pure technique, she was confident she could defeat Kujou Sara.
But Sara was the Shogun's loyal retainer, and Mai awaited her creator's guidance.
The reply came swiftly. "Fight as you wish. But you are not to win."
It was no surprise. Even as two creations of the same hand, there was still favoritism. She—the one who had been discarded and stolen away—would never stand equal to the beloved attendant who remained by her side.
"I understand."
Mai severed the mental link, her gaze steady on the Tengu before her.
"Tell me," she said quietly, "for what reason do you draw your blade?"
Kujou Sara blinked, taken aback by the abrupt question. After a brief pause, she straightened her posture and replied seriously, "I have no obsession with victory or defeat. I stand here simply to fulfill the Shogun's command."
Although it had been Yae Miko who nominated her for the tournament, the Raiden Shogun had voiced no objection—implying silent approval. And since that was the case, Sara naturally treated it as an order from her lord.
"How nice," Raiden Mai said with a faint smile. "Then fight with all your strength. Don't let her down."
"Of course." Sara nodded once. "Let's begin."
The spectators were eager for this match. After all, one of the competitors was none other than General Kujou Sara herself—a well-known figure across Inazuma.
Her unmatched skill in combat, her unyielding sense of justice, and the figure hidden beneath that disciplined uniform had long been a favorite subject of gossip among Inazuma's men.
Though she lacked Yae Miko's alluring grace and didn't possess Lady Kamisato's celebrity status, she had her own passionate following.
And the recent headlines—reporting her public kiss with a man—had left countless admirers heartbroken.
"Go, Lady Kujou!"
"Don't lose to a foreigner!"
"We'll always support you!"
The cheers from the stands were almost entirely for Sara. The fair and steadfast general clearly had the people's respect.
In truth, Raiden Mai's swordsmanship was above Sara's. But at that moment, Mai's spirit was hollow. Everything she did felt meaningless, and for an instant, she thought it might be easier to simply concede.
So she held back, not once countering. Before long, she was driven to the edge of the arena—one more step, and she would fall, defeated.
"Hey! What are you doing up there!?"
A familiar voice rang out, snapping her from her daze.
Lucas stood at the edge of the stage, shouting with all his might. "Come on, Mai! Get it together!"
That's right… I'm not alone.
Just as Sara's blade arced downward, Mai moved—her katana flashing sideways to parry the strike. Sparks flew as she followed with a flurry of blows, each one sharp as thunder, forcing Sara back several meters.
"So you've finally decided to fight me seriously?" Sara said coolly, though she'd clearly sensed the shift. "What spell does that man have over you?"
"Who knows?" A faint smile tugged at Mai's lips. "But he cheered for me. So… I can't lose here."
"Tch."
A spark of anger flashed through Sara's eyes—whether from irritation at being underestimated, or jealousy that Lucas had cheered for Mai instead of her, she couldn't tell.
But it wasn't hard to understand. Lucas had known Raiden Mai far longer than he'd known her. And with how one-sided the match had seemed before, of course he'd cheer for Mai.
Now, Raiden Mai was like a completely different person. Her movements turned aggressive, her strikes unpredictable—swift, fluid, almost mechanical in their precision. Sara found herself on the defensive, struggling to keep up as the battle reversed in an instant.
Sara was an expert archer; her close-quarters combat, while formidable, wasn't her greatest strength. And her opponent's swordsmanship—refined through endless optimization, like a perfect algorithm—was impossible to read.
High above, the Raiden Shogun's brows furrowed. She tried to issue a command through the link, ordering Mai to stand down. But Mai ignored her completely.
"What's wrong?" Yae Miko, sitting nearby, gave a knowing smile. "Your little puppet misbehaving again?"
The word again was deliberate. After all, this wasn't the first puppet the Shogun had created that had turned rebellious.
"Why is this happening?" The Shogun's tone was troubled. "By design, the puppets should obey my every command without question."
"Maybe," Yae Miko said softly, "it's because they've grown up. You may be a fine general, Ei—but you've never been a good mother."
At that moment, a harsh metallic screech cut through the air. Kujou Sara was thrown to the ground, barely managing to brace her blade against Mai's descending strike.
"This ends here."
The Raiden Shogun's voice echoed in Mai's mind once more. "Do you intend to disobey your master's order?"
"I have only one master."
In the void of her consciousness, Raiden Mai—kneeling until now—rose to her feet for the first time. Her eyes met the Shogun's directly.
"His name is Lucas."
As those words fell, the Shogun's presence vanished from her mind entirely.
From that moment on, Raiden Mai was no longer anyone's puppet.
"Do you know why I draw my blade?" she asked quietly, looking down at Kujou Sara beneath her. "This time… I draw it for myself."
With a sharp crack, Mai's katana struck down, splitting Sara's blade clean in half. The broken edge gleamed coldly against Sara's pale throat.
"You've lost," Mai said evenly.
"I won't admit defeat," Sara replied, voice steady. "Do it."
Mai's eyes chilled. She no longer feared the Shogun—and if she wished, she could strike down her favored retainer without hesitation.
But before the blade fell, the Raiden Shogun stood abruptly from her seat. "That's enough," she commanded. "This is a match, not a duel to the death. Her life still has its uses."
Sara bit her lip, then exhaled slowly. "I… concede."
Her quiet words sent a ripple of disbelief through the audience. No one had expected the mighty Kujou Sara to fall so quickly—to lose in the very first round.
Under the weight of countless eyes—some confused, some disappointed, others pitying—Sara silently stepped down from the stage.
Waiting below, she spotted Lucas standing there, as if he'd been waiting just for her.
"You're standing in the wrong place," she said, her throat tightening as her vision blurred. Still, she forced a small smile. "The one you should be waiting for… is on the other side."
"I was waiting for you," Lucas said softly. He took a small porcelain vial from his pocket, poured a bit of medicine into his palm, and carefully applied it to the cut on Kujou Sara's neck. "This wound should be treated right away."
That simple gesture shattered what little composure Sara had left. Her tightly held emotions broke free, and tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
For as long as she could remember, she had lived as the Raiden Shogun's right hand—disciplined, unwavering, held to the highest of standards. Failure was something she had never allowed herself. Yet today, she had lost completely, and worse, right in front of the Shogun she revered above all.
"Why…" she whispered through trembling lips. "Why didn't you cheer for me?"
Lucas sighed. "Because… there are plenty of people standing behind you. But behind her… there's only me."
Sara turned her head sharply. In the crowd, countless voices were still calling her name—many of them her own subordinates from the Tenryou Commission, shouting encouragement with unshaken faith.
And on the other side of the arena, the victorious Raiden Mai walked alone, stepping down from the stage without a word. She looked utterly out of place, as if the world itself had no place for her.
"I understand." Sara wiped the tears from her eyes and steadied her voice. "Go to her. She needs you now more than I do. And… tell her something for me."
"What?" Lucas asked, puzzled.
"Tell her to wait for me." Sara's lips curved into a small, determined smile. "I'll train harder—and one day, I'll surpass her."
"That's the Sara I know." Lucas smiled, patting her shoulder. "I'll make sure she gets the message."
Her face flushed crimson. Under her breath, she muttered, "Don't say my name out loud in front of so many people…"
She returned to the elevated platform where the Shogun waited. Before the Electro Archon could even speak, Sara had already dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, my Shogun. I have… failed your expectations."
But Raiden Shogun showed no anger. Her voice was calm. "Victory and defeat are part of battle. Remember this, Sara—whether in competition or on the battlefield, never abandon your life. It doesn't belong to you alone."
"So what she means," Yae Miko interjected with a sly smile, "is that she can't bear to see you die."
A rare flush colored the Shogun's cheeks. "Enough nonsense."
Sara's eyes sparkled with emotion. "Thank you, my Shogun, for your kindness!"
And right then and there, she secretly resolved that when the limited-edition lacquered Raiden Shogun figure released next month, she'd buy ten of them to keep at home.
...
"The seventh match: Thoma versus La Signora."
Watching two utterly mismatched opponents step onto the stage, Lucas couldn't help but feel something strange stir inside him.
For Thoma, advancing through the preliminaries had been easy—his resourcefulness and skill more than enough to secure victory, even without his "powerful" teammate Arataki Itto.
But now, facing the woman before him, the usually confident fixer from Ritou looked uncharacteristically tense.
"How dull," La Signora said, her tone ice-cold. "They really matched me with someone this weak?"
Most men would've bristled at such an insult. Thoma only smiled faintly. "You're right—I'm not as strong as you. That's why I've decided… to surrender."
The crowd erupted in disbelief.
La Signora's identity as a Fatui Harbinger wasn't widely known in Inazuma, but Thoma's was. A local celebrity surrendering before the fight even began? It was… embarrassing, to say the least.
"You're giving up already?" La Signora frowned. "Some man you are. No spine at all."
Thoma only laughed. "A man's strength isn't measured by how hard he fights."
"Pretty words," she sneered. "If you don't care to fight, then why enter the tournament at all?"
He shrugged casually. "Just following orders. My lady wanted me to help someone pass the preliminaries. Now that person's made it this far, there's no reason for me to keep fighting."
La Signora went quiet, her voice softening slightly. "To give everything for another person… do you really think that's worth it?"
"It's worth it." Thoma nodded. "If you ever meet someone like that—someone worth giving everything for—you'll make the same choice."
With that, he turned and walked off the stage, easy and unbothered, like a man who had never known defeat.
La Signora stood motionless, murmuring, "But I already have…"
As Thoma stepped down, Lucas smiled and said encouragingly, "Good thing you surrendered. You have no idea how strong that woman is—"
Before he could finish, Thoma suddenly stumbled, and Lucas reached out to steady him—only to find his palm slick with sweat.
"Of course I know," Thoma sighed. "I'm just a housekeeper. Why would I risk my life over something like this?"
Lucas could only stare speechlessly.
...
"The eighth match: Shenhe versus Eula."
At last, the final battle of the first round began—and no one expected these two rivals to face each other so soon.
"What a pity," Eula said, spinning her massive claymore with a grin. "Looks like someone's going to be out in round one."
"The same words apply to you," Shenhe replied coolly. "I won't use my Vision, nor the adeptal arts my master taught me. As for you… do whatever you want. It makes no difference to me."
"I won't use my Vision either." Eula frowned. "You dare underestimate me? Fine. Vengeance will be mine!"
"It's Miss Eula!"
From the stands, Klee shouted at the top of her lungs, "Go, Miss Eula! You can do it!"
Even Jean, normally calm and composed, smiled and waved to her in support.
Neither of them was from Inazuma, so hearing their cheers in a foreign land warmed Eula's heart more than she could say.
Lucas was just debating whether he should cheer for Shenhe too when, all of a sudden, a row of towering men in black suits and slicked-back hair stood up in unison from the audience seats nearby.