Everything since before they arrived had been planned.
The underperformance. The staged chaos. The disrespectful soldiers. All of it was carefully orchestrated—a trap designed to attract Yurei to their base so they could implement their real scheme.
The girls' scent of enhancers had been purposefully planted. A calculated misdirection to make Yurei think the squad relied on illegal drugs, to make her assume they would cheat during the fight with enhancers.
But that was just a smoke screen.
The real trump card was Beatrice's Buster Knuckles—an illegal Imperial Gear that multiplied punching force by five.
Only three-star soldiers could officially use Imperial Gear in the army. The rest had to rely on their blessings alone. But using her underground connections—contacts from her crime lord days—Beatrice had gotten her hands on one.
All in preparation for this fight.
This will teach those bitches to look down on us, Beatrice thought, closing in on Yurei.
She released a massive barrage of punches—left, right, left, right—each one sending shockwaves through the air. Yurei dodged, but barely. The knuckles weren't just increasing force; they were creating concussive bursts with every swing.
"Five times multiplier," Yurei calculated under her breath, weaving between fists. "Plus her blessing. She's hitting with the force of a small bomb."
But it wasn't just the power that made the Buster Knuckles dangerous.
After every punch, the knuckles released a small shockwave—a burst of invisible force that threw her off balance just long enough for the next punch to come. It was a rhythm. A pattern.
Once I win this, Beatrice thought, her fists flying, I will show everyone that we aren't just a bunch of useless delinquents.
Images flashed through her mind. The sneers from other units. The way officers looked at her soldiers like they were already convicts. The whispers.
"Criminal unit."
"Should have stayed in prison."
"Can't trust them."
Her jaw tightened.
It's all going to change once I become a Princess and get Big Sis back.
---
Yurei's back hit the edge of the crowd.
She had nowhere left to dodge.
Soldiers pressed behind her—a wall of bodies and jeers. No escape.
Beatrice grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Nowhere to run, Princess."
She pulled her fist back.
This is it.
Beatrice's next punch came in low—aimed at Yurei's ribs. A body blow meant to end the fight.
But instead of dodging—
Yurei stepped into the blow.
*CRACK. *
The impact was brutal. Pain exploded through her side. She felt something give—a rib, maybe two. The crowd gasped.
But she didn't fall.
She grabbed Beatrice's arm.
Beatrice's eyes widened. "What—"
Yurei twisted.
Not Beatrice's arm—her momentum. Using the larger woman's own strength against her, Yurei redirected the punch, sending Beatrice stumbling past her. The brass knuckles sparked uselessly against empty air.
Beatrice caught herself, spinning around. Her chest heaved. Sweat dripped down her temple.
"You're insane." She stared at Yurei's side, where the princess's uniform was already darkening with bruising. "I just broke your rib."
Yurei's breathing was shallow. Controlled. "I've had worse."
She raised Longinus.
Not to strike.
To observe.
The golden blade caught the fading sunlight, reflecting it directly into Beatrice's eyes. The larger woman flinched, raising an arm to shield her face.
That moment of blindness was all Yurei needed.
She swept Longinus low—the shaft, not the blade—knocking Beatrice's legs out from under her.
*THUD. *
Beatrice crashed to the ground, dust exploding around her. Before she could move, Yurei was on her—one knee on her chest, the tip of Longinus at her throat.
The crowd fell silent.
"Strength without honor," Yurei said quietly, her voice carrying across the courtyard, "is just violence."
Beatrice struggled, but Yurei's weight held her down. The spear's tip pressed against her skin—not enough to draw blood, but enough to make her point.
"And violence…" Yurei leaned closer. "...can be redirected."
Beatrice stopped struggling.
Her chest heaved. Sweat and dust smeared her face. Her eyes were wide—not with fear, but with something else. Something like understanding.
"Illegal Imperial Gear won't make you strong." Yurei's voice was calm, almost gentle. "It makes you over-dependent. And over-dependence is weakness."
She stood.
Then she offered her hand.
Beatrice stared at it. At the princess who had just beaten her. At the spear still glowing faintly in the afternoon light.
"You're not going to report me?"
"Would that help you?"
"No."
"Then what's the point?" Yurei's expression softened—just slightly. "I'm not here to punish you, Beatrice. I'm here to help you. But I can't do that if you keep hiding behind your crutches and schemes."
Beatrice looked down at her brass knuckles—still on her hands, still glowing faintly with illegal Aether.
Crutches, she thought. That's exactly what they are.
Slowly, she pulled them off.
The runes dimmed. The glow faded. The weight in her hands suddenly felt heavier—not physically, but morally.
She held them out to Yurei.
"Take them."
Yurei took them. "They'll be destroyed."
"Good."
Beatrice took Yurei's hand.
The princess pulled her to her feet.
---
Across the arena, the other fight was still raging.
But something had changed.
Beatrice looked at Yurei—really looked at her. Not as an enemy. Not as a symbol of everything she hated.
Just as a woman who had offered her a second chance.
"Now," Beatrice said, releasing her hand, "let's go watch our slaves pummel each other. I believe your's currently losing to mine."
Yurei snorted. "Hiro's not losing. He's... strategizing."
"Strategizing?"
"Okay, he's losing."
For the first time since the fight began, Beatrice smiled—not a smirk, not a grin. Just a small, tired, genuine smile.
"Fine. Let's go."