"Cease fire, fall back now!" Just as the soldiers were retreating, they suddenly saw two flashes of cold light dart past them. Focusing their eyes, they realized it was their guides.
They knew the guides carried strange large swords, even Kid had somehow gotten one himself. But they had never actually seen those swords used and didn't know how heavy they truly were.
Leaping out into battle, the Awakened Beings noticed too. They growled in hoarse, guttural voices, surprised: "Claymores?!"
Their attention instantly shifted from the human soldiers to the Claymores. When they saw only two of them, they sneered. "Two foolish Claymores."
"Hmph!" Luciela let out a cold snort. She crossed the 100-meter distance in a flash. Her blade swung, and a surge of icy light erupted.
"Ahhh—!" The crowd only heard a horrifying shriek as purple blood splattered through the air, painting the scorched earth like an ink wash.
"No way!" The Earth soldiers were stunned. Even the Awakened couldn't believe it.
A Claymore had actually cleaved through an Awakened with a single strike? Impossible. That clearly wasn't some special technique—it was just a normal swing.
Luciela thought, 'Looks like my Abyssal power is still there. These Awakened aren't getting out of here alive today.'
God-Eye Galatea felt one of the powerful Awakened vanish from her sensing field, then a second, then a third. She couldn't detect any other youki. 'Are they killing each other?'
But in reality, it was the two restored Claymores launching a massacre. By the time the Awakened realized something was wrong, it was already too late. Luciela and Ophelia had split them apart with precision.
Someone finally recognized her. "You're Luciela… how—" She wanted to say, Aren't you supposed to be dead? but didn't dare finish. She was afraid of provoking her.
How could Luciela be this strong? She wasn't even in her full Awakened form. She was just holding a Claymore, yet the power was unreal—it made no sense. Everyone knew incomplete Awakened couldn't fight at full strength. There were no exceptions.
"It feels amazing. No hunger, but all the power of an Abyssal One. I'm perfect now." Luciela practically purred in delight. "The South is still my land. All of you are going to die here." With her blade drawn horizontally, she sprang out again—faster than a bullet.
The Earth soldiers were dumbfounded. Who were these guides Kid had found? Why were they so ridiculously strong? On a planet with twice Earth's gravity, even walking wore them out. But the Claymore girls moved like superheroes, flying across the battlefield. It was hard to believe.
Clearly, Kid didn't just pick random people to be his guides. These women were insanely strong—too strong. But finally, Earth had its own superheroes. The soldiers quickly adapted to the idea, then started doing what Earth folks always did—spectate.
Just like when heroes fight villains, watching was inevitable. The soldiers suddenly relaxed, standing around to gawk. Seems like for Earthlings, even in this universe, that was just how things worked.
Kid didn't know whether to laugh or cry. A minute ago they were screaming in terror, now they were standing around like it was a live show.
The Awakened were stunned by the restored Claymores' strength and speed. Two more were killed in the blink of an eye. Only two remained.
Victory was near.
"They're too strong?!" one Awakened shouted. "What the hell are you?! I can't sense your youki at all!" Were they new creations from the Organization? Had even the Southern Abyssal One been transformed?
As thoughts raced through her mind, Luciela had already sliced off her enemy's arm at supersonic speed. In the past, only her Awakened body parts could move that fast. But now, her whole body could attack at that speed—it was unbelievable.
Her Claymore sword dragged a trail of purple blood as it drained her opponent's life.
No mercy. That was how Claymores dealt with yoma.
"Impossible… You clearly haven't Awakened. Who the hell are you?!"
"You already know, don't you? I'm the master of the South—Luciela." She finished speaking and swung, severing the Awakened's head clean off.
That Awakened died with disbelief still frozen on his face.
Ophelia's side wasn't going quite as effortlessly. As an Awakened herself, her strength was on par with the enemies. Their speed and power matched. Earlier kills had been easy because the enemies let their guard down. The yoma and even Claymores on this planet lacked the mentality of real warriors.
They only fought because it was their job—or because they were hungry.
Yoma were parasites, infected by parasitic cells. Devouring human organs was actually part of a parasitic transfer. The hunger was a trigger to drive them to search for new hosts. That's why yoma could copy their victims' appearance, memories, and habits. But the truth was, it was the parasitic cells doing the killing. And they could only mimic one person at a time—the latest victim. They couldn't go back and copy someone previously consumed.
Claymores were different. They suppressed the parasitic cells while borrowing their power. Awakening was the process of those cells eroding a Claymore's sanity. Unlike yoma, Claymores didn't need to transfer into new hosts, but the hunger remained. That hunger drove Awakened Beings to eat organs, again and again.
It was a symbiotic relationship between Claymores and their parasitic cells.
Of course, not everything should be blamed on the parasite. Like the West Abyssal One's abuse of Claymores—those cells had nothing to do with that.
Parasitic cells just wanted to survive. Eating organs was brutal, but it was biological instinct. They didn't force their hosts to torture prey. That kind of sadism came from the yoma themselves.
Same with Claymores. After Awakening, they ate organs because of the cells' influence—but the desire to torture was something else entirely.
It was the same moral question in the human world—do you kill to eat, or do you kill for fun because there's a beast in your heart?
So when Claymores fought Awakened Beings, there was no chivalry. Each strike was aimed to kill. Either their blades drank purple blood, or they died themselves—no in-between.
Ophelia didn't have the overwhelming strength to crush these single-digit Awakened, but now that she wasn't using any youki, they couldn't sense her. That gave her a chance.
Her long sword sped through the air, stirring a gentle breeze. The treetops swayed. Somewhere inside, a bird may have been hiding.
A single leaf fluttered down into the web of her sword and instantly turned to powder. Ripple Sword—Ophelia's signature move. Unlike the High-Speed Sword, Ripple Sword had smaller movements and tighter control. It didn't rely on wide, sweeping strikes.
The key was in the wrist. If the High-Speed Sword was a cannonball—powerful but blunt—then Ripple Sword was a grenade, unpredictable and deadly.
Its strength lay in escalation. Each swing was stronger than the last, like waves pushing waves.
The Awakened didn't notice right away. Soon, cuts appeared all over his body. As he moved, more slashes covered him, spreading fast. Ophelia's Ripple Sword had no name because few lived to speak of it. People called her the 'Bloodstained Berserker'.
Die.
Every stroke of Ripple Sword built up more power. The last few were fatal strikes.
That Awakened died miserably, hacked into large chunks. His eyes remained open, confused by why those last few swings were so devastating.
The battle ended.
The restored Claymores had won—completely.