Many times, Vis had to admit—whatever trouble you fear most, that’s exactly what comes for you.
Viswood’s voice was clear and sharp, laced with undisguised disgust.
She stood ramrod straight, the longbow in her hand still radiating a faint magical afterglow.
The officer’s massive body, which had swollen to three meters tall, was now visibly shrinking by the second. Muscles and bones groaned under the unbearable strain, until he reverted to his original form.
He was stark naked, save for a few scraps of cloth clinging to his body, gasping for air, sweat mixed with blood running down his skin.
The burden of Berserker Transformation on the body was immense—he was utterly spent.
Viswood’s gaze swept over the scene.
Attendant guards rolling on the ground, an unconscious battle mage with a sunken chest, and the officer collapsed in a heap, unable even to stand.
At last, her eyes locked onto Fiya, who was completely unscathed.
In her eyes, this was nothing more than another brazen act of brute-force mercenaries, openly challenging the dignity of the Empire’s army.
“Looks like you lot haven’t learned your lesson yet.”
With a cold snort, she tossed the longbow to the squad leader soldier who had hurried over, and, in one smooth motion, drew a knight’s longsword from her waist.
The blade was slender and gleamed with a chilling, frosty light. Paired with her close-fitting leather armor designed for agility, it gave off an aura of sharp competence.
“Even if this is a refugee camp, it is still Imperial ground. It’s not a place for money-grubbing mercenaries like you to run wild.”
Before she finished speaking, Viswood’s figure suddenly blurred.
The ground trembled lightly under her feet as she became a streak of blue light, shooting straight toward Fiya.
Her speed far surpassed that of the soldiers before.
A hint of gravity finally appeared in Fiya’s eyes.
This female knight wasn’t all talk—her skill matched her arrogance.
No longer treating her like the officer, Fiya turned her wrist, her sword tracing a perfect arc before her as she met the blue streak head-on.
“Clang—!”
The clash of metal exploded in a piercing shriek, louder than any previous blow.
At the point where their swords met, a shockwave burst forth, kicking up clouds of dust.
Imperial soldiers all around were driven back by the blast, their faces full of horror.
Missing her first strike, Viswood’s assault did not pause for even a heartbeat.
Her swordplay became a raging storm, swift and unrelenting.
Each blow carried a faint blue magical glow, the wind element boosting her sword speed until only afterimages could be seen.
Her blade ripped through the air, shrieking as it struck, her attacks vicious and precise, every move aimed at Fiya’s vitals.
Fiya weaved through the airtight web of swords.
Her movements remained elegant, but no longer unhurried.
The sword in her hand became an unbreakable black barrier, intercepting every strike with pinpoint accuracy.
The clangs and crashes of their swords blended into a single relentless cacophony, sparks flying like dazzling fireworks in the night.
Viswood’s brows drew tighter and tighter.
She hadn’t expected this black-haired female mercenary to be so formidable.
Her own sword skills were among the best in the Reconnaissance Knights, and with wind element magic to boost her speed, few could match her rhythm.
But this woman not only kept up—she seemed almost at ease.
“Not bad, but it’s still not enough!”
With a sharp cry, Viswood’s magical aura surged higher.
Her knight’s longsword blazed with blue light, the air around the blade warping.
In the next instant, she drove her sword down—not at Fiya, but straight into the ground at her feet.
“Geyara’s Gale Blessing—‘Gale Bind!’”
Centered on the sword, a complex blue magic array unfurled instantly across the ground. Countless wind blades shot forth from the formation, creating a storm cage with no gaps, sealing Fiya within.
Vis’s heart leapt into his throat.
This was no longer just a capture attempt, but a deadly kill strike.
Yet Fiya simply faced it calmly.
At the moment the storm was about to close in, her sword erupted with a brilliance never seen before.
Condensed magic rose, turning into the purest sword aura imaginable.
Anyone who had seen it would recognize it instantly.
The martial secret art of the Heinetion Shuu family—“Crownbreaker.”
Its amplified force shook the surroundings, the dense magic twisting the air.
Fiya’s form vanished from where she stood, reappearing in the next instant outside the storm cage.
The prison of wind blades, as if crushed by an invisible hand, shattered with a roar into a rain of blue fragments.
Viswood’s pupils contracted, her face showing disbelief for the first time.
Her proud magic sword technique had been brushed aside as if it were nothing.
A dodge that meant, “You can’t even touch me,”
And the ensuing counter told her, “Not only can you not hit me—I can strike back.”
Before Viswood could recover from her shock,
Fiya’s retort had already arrived.
This time, the roles were completely reversed.
The swordswoman’s blade was no longer only for defense—it became a bolt of lightning under the power of “Crownbreaker.”
Each swing slashed with space-rending might.
Viswood defended with all her strength, but was forced back step by step.
Fiya’s sword was too fast, too heavy.
The force transmitted through that slender blade made Viswood’s arms go numb, the skin splitting at her grip, blood running down the hilt.
In the center of their duel, the ground split apart, stones tossed skyward by sword auras only to be shredded midair.
Makeshift tents, flagpoles, and even the brush at the camp’s edge all shattered under the shockwaves, dust and debris flying.
It felt less like a battle than a natural disaster.
(We’re doomed—if this keeps up, it’ll never end, will it?)
Vis was about to reach into his coat for his watch,
He wasn’t sure if he could stop them, but at least he could try to make them stop fighting…
But before that—
“Enough. All of you, stop.”
A calm voice, yet clear and commanding enough to reach every ear.
There was authority and overwhelming magical might in that tone, as if a hammer had smashed through the frenzy of battle.
Fiya and Viswood, locked in combat, halted as one, leaping apart to put distance between themselves.
“Lord Kryonka…”
“Lord Kryonka is here!”
Among the soldiers who turned first, one couldn’t help but blurt out the name in awe, followed by a spontaneous wave of salutes.
Kryonka strode in full armor, steps steady. His gaze swept over the chaotic scene—officer and guards in disarray, Viswood and Fiya facing off, breath unsteady.
“Viswood, what exactly is going on here?”