The moment after the declarations was unbearable.
No one in the courtyard spoke. No one dared to breathe. The sound of the wind faded until only the low hum of compressed energy filled the space—two storms ready to break loose.
The barrier around the arena was shaking. Cracks ran through the crystallized walls like veins of lightning, bleeding light. Stipo's face twisted as he pressed both palms against the crystal.
"Damn it—this won't hold long!" he barked. "I need more Solidifiers, now!"
A handful of clan members rushed to his side, hands already glowing red as they sliced their palms open. The air thickened with blood scent. The barrier pulsed, layers of hardened blood stacking like glass plates. Still, every vibration from inside sent a visible ripple across the surface.
Inside the cage of crimson light, two general moved.
Nene and Hiroki were gone from human perception—just streaks of blue and red colliding, separating, blurring again. Each impact sent fountains of sand spiraling upward, twisting into miniature storms.
Then, suddenly, the blue arc cut deep.
Hiroki staggered—Nene's taiaha had pierced through his thigh.
The azure weapon hummed, crystalline edges vibrating as the energy pulsed down its shaft.
For a second, it looked like victory.
But generals don't falter.
With a snarl, Hiroki twisted his body, the red tachi flashing upward in a savage counterstroke. Nene tried to pivot away—but too late.
The blade bit through her left arm, just above the elbow.
The sound was wet and sharp.
Her taiaha dropped, half buried in the sand.
A collective cry rippled through the spectators. Sheshy clutched her chest, eyes wide in horror. "Sensei!"
Abel's voice joined hers, trembling, "She—she lost her arm!"
Nene didn't scream. She didn't even flinch.
Her expression remained composed, though her lips were pale. The blood from her severed limb didn't spill freely—it floated, shimmering faintly as her energy instinctively contain it.
But containment wasn't enough.
Hiroki was already moving again, dragging his wounded leg, fury burning in his gaze. "You should have retired, old woman!"
His aura flared—a burning red corona that distorted the air. Sand melted beneath his feet. He dashed forward, faster than before, faster than anything mortal.
Nene's eyes—those divine white eyes—closed for half a heartbeat.
When they reopened, something else lived inside them.
She extended her remaining hand. The golden knuckleduster quivered in her remaining hand. Energy surged through it, expanding outward—pure energy made visible.
The air screamed. The weapon grew, not in size, but in reach: the golden edge of the knuckleduster blade extended in a shimmering field of blue light, about one and a quarter meters past its physical form. The aura rippled like heat over ice, an extension of her will.
Outside, Stipo swore loudly. "She's expanding the weapon! Idiot, you'll break the arena!... will she be able to use so much energy?"
The barrier cracked again, glowing red cracks splintering across its surface. He clenched his bleeding hands tighter, forcing the blood to crystalize harder. "Reinforce the southern flank! Now!"
Inside, Nene's aura collided with Hiroki's like colliding storms.
His red aura extended farther—1.4 meters, his energy burning like molten steel. The clash of invisible edges carved trenches in the ground.
The sound wasn't like metal—it was like thunder, layered with voices.
Each strike carried echoes of willpower.
Abel covered his ears; even from afar, the resonance hurt.
He couldn't follow their movements, only the explosions of light—red arcs, blue flashes, and the faint sound of Nene's calm breathing amid chaos.
Sheshy's tears streamed silently. "She's bleeding too much… she won't make it…"
Her voice broke. Stipo didn't answer—he was too busy, his arms trembling as the barrier pulsed with strain. "Hold it—hold it, damn you!"
Another explosion of force shook the courtyard.
From the dust, Hiroki's figure emerged—cut across his chest, but smiling.
"You can't win, Nene," he spat, "you're too damn old!"
Nene's face softened—not in defeat, but pity.
"Old, yes," she murmured, her voice calm despite the chaos. "But not weak."
She stepped forward—slowly, deliberately.
Each movement of her weapon seemed to bend the air, curving Hiroki's attacks before they landed. Her affinity perception went beyond sight; she felt the futureof his intent, even the one he yet have to decide, his killing instinct. Her weapon danced along them like fingers plucking a harp.
Hiroki roared in frustration and brought his sword down in a vertical slash that cracked the arena floor. Nene slid sideways, her right hand trembling as she blocked with the aura edge of her blade. The red and blue energies collided—vibrating like clashing bells.
Then both weapons shattered their limits.
A wave of energy erupted outward, flattening the sand into glass.
The barrier screamed under the pressure.
Stipo shouted orders, voice raw. "All units—focus everything! "If this thing breaks, all the apprentices and soldiers will die!"
Blood trickled from his mouth as he forced more energy through his palms. The other Solidifiers mirrored him, veins bulging, faces pale, some of them collapsing.
Cracks raced across the crystalline dome like fire.
Abel grabbed the railing, heart pounding. "Stipo—it's breaking!"
"I know!" he barked. "If they don't stop in a few seconds, I'll—"
He never finished.
A blinding flash filled the arena. The light was so bright it turned everything white, shadows and people alike.
Inside, Nene and Hiroki were locked together.
Her left side hung limp, blood staining the sand beneath her feet. His thigh wound gushed freely, but he pushed forward anyway, every muscle screaming in defiance.
Their auras collided again—red flame against blue light, searing through the air like colliding suns.
For a heartbeat, they were still.
Then Hiroki's sword cracked. The red tachi split down the middle, sparks of molten energy bursting out.
He froze—just for a breath.
And that was enough.
Nene's sword, wrapped in shimmering energy, slid under his guard and drove upward through his ribs. The point erupted from his back in a halo of azure light.
The shockwave hit the barrier like a hurricane.
Cracks spidered everywhere, and with a final groan, the crimson dome shattered—exploding into shards of crystallized blood that rained across the courtyard.
The noise was deafening. The ground trembled.
When the dust began to settle, Stipo was on one knee, coughing blood, eyes wide. "Damn it… she did it…"
Abel's ears rang. He blinked through the haze, trying to see.
The arena was half-destroyed, the sand fused into molten glass.
At its center, two figures stood locked together.
Hiroki's body leaned forward, impaled. His golden-ash eyes were wide with disbelief.
Nene held him upright, her weapon buried in his chest.
He coughed blood, lips curling into a faint, pained grin. "Guess… you still had it… old woman…"
Nene's breath was ragged. Her white eyes glowed faintly as she whispered, "And you… still had spirit, child."
For a moment, they looked almost at peace—two warriors bound by mutual respect, even through hate.
Then something changed.
Hiroki's eyes narrowed—not fading, but focusing.
The faint hum of energy rose again, soft but sharp.
His hand—still gripping the half-broken tachi—twitched.
A line of crimson light traced up from his chest to his shoulder.
He shifted, just slightly—and Nene's serene expression froze.
The red blade, glowing faintly with residual aura, pushed upward.
It pierced Nene's neck—not deep, but enough. Enough to end everything.
Sheshy gasped. "No… no…"
Her body jerked once. The light in her eyes dimmed, flickering like a dying flame.
Hiroki's hand fell limp immediately after, the tachi slipping from his grasp as his knees gave way.
But Nene was already gone before he hit the ground.
Her knuckleduster clattered beside her, the glow fading into silence.
She collapsed backward, her white hair spreading like snow over the scorched sand.
"Sensei!" Sheshy screamed, sprinting toward her.
Stipo didn't move. He just stared, silent, jaw clenched.
Abel stumbled forward, the world spinning.
He couldn't understand it—she had won, hadn't she? The blade had gone through him. She had—
But there she lay.
Still. Peaceful. A faint smile on her lips, as if she had seen something beautiful right before the end.
Stipo finally spoke, his voice low, shaking.
"She… she let him land the final blow... no, that's not it, she was probably tiered..."
Sheshy fell to her knees beside Nene, hands trembling as she pressed against the wound, though she knew it was useless.
"Please… please stay with me…"
For a moment, the blue energy flickered one last time around Nene's body—gentle, like a breeze—and then vanished completely.
The sky above the courtyard grew dark, clouds coiling like mourning veils.
No one spoke. Even the wind held its breath.
Hiroki lay on his side, half-conscious, blood pooling beneath him.
His eyes turned toward her body, and for the first time, there was no hatred left in them. Only something heavy. Regret, maybe.
He whispered, voice fading, "You were always… like a aunt to me so why... why did you have to do it."
Then silence...