‘Wait for the signal,’ Vod ordered his squad to remain. ‘Stay out of the way until then.’ He then unsheathed his sword and pointed the blade at Kokuri the immortal.

Kokuri could see it.

Inside that monastery, standing beside the standing corpse of a man she had killed, was an expressionless swordsman. Just when despair had set in on that battle, this particular swordsman brought back hope to the Zenist. His appearance was a speck of light in a never-ending darkness. He showed not confidence, or pride, or bravery, or fear, or despair. Against her, he pointed his blade with a sharp; practiced motion, holding the blade up with both hands.

The swordsman stance was the same as the sword saint Kokuri had killed.

Just as she was underestimating him, he stepped in quickly. Within a blink of an eye, Kokuri was within his sword’s range. With a perfect swing that seemed able to cut through reality itself, he slashed.

Silence.

Then comes the rain.

Kokuri was once again in the open space inside the alleyway of Lune. The swordsman had just swung his sword and she had dodged by ducking down. With a kunai in her hand, she enshrouded the weapon with Elemental Magic, darkness, and thrusted it toward him.

He caught her hand with his; and the darkness which was supposed to swallow him was dispelled. Annoying, Kokuri thought.

She freed her hand from his grasp, dodging another sword swing; with a backstep this time. As she distanced herself from him, she enshrouded her kunai with darkness and threw it. When the kunai touched the sword however, the darkness was dispelled and he deflected the kunai.

Why don’t you let me kill you? Kokuri thought. The battle would have already been over if he allowed her to kill him. You can’t kill me.

***

Vod, the swordsman, felt his blade connecting to the immortal.

After deflecting her kunai, he could see her bleeding. His previous attack had grazed her cheek and it was bleeding.

The wind blew harder and the rain fell heavier. Drops of water fell on his opponent’s face, washing the blood on her cheek away, revealing a smooth skin without any trace of it ever being cut. Vod was able to make her bleed, but it seemed that he wasn’t able to give her a wound she couldn’t recover from.

Seeing that wound heal didn’t frustrate him. Instead, he carefully assessed the situation.

The leader of monster worshipper was writing on the ground with the blood of a dead man. Vod couldn’t tell what he was doing, but he could assume that was their objective. Vod could have ignored Kokuri for a while and slashed the leader, but the spearman guarding him wouldn’t allow that. He could tell that he was strong.

They would complete their objective if nothing was done.

… I can’t kill her, Vod thought as he looked at his opponent. But I can win this battle.

***

Freya stood at a pier’s platform.

The wind blew fierce and she could hardly stand her ground. Droplets of water hitting her skin was blown by a force that made them felt like tiny little punches. Standing there was physically painful, but she had herself a reason to be there. Her violet eyes gazed at the faraway storm which had come from the horizon. Only upon seeing its sight did she now realize that the rain wasn’t rain. It was oceanwater thrown away by the violent wind.

Now she understood why everyone feared the skystorm.

The skystorm was a fierce tempest that carried destruction. That swirl of violent winds soared up toward the sky, piercing a hole through the clouds. A tall, looming tempest.

‘Pretty ain’t it?’ a short man with crumpled hair said beside her, he had to shout so he could be heard in that loud wind. He offered her a jug of fire wine.

‘No thank you,’ Freya declined. Her voice might not be heard, but at least her hand gesture conveyed it for her.

He shrugged and chugged down the jug.

Seeing how the ocean quaked at the presence of the skystorm, no ship would survive through it. The sailors weren’t exaggerating when they said that her only destination would be the bottom of the sea. A ship would be powerless against that; the winds would ruin their sails, the waves would sink their ship, and the passengers could only hope for a miracle. An impossibility stood between Freya and Malegonia.

Freya should feel frustrated. Her departure was stalled by this skystorm and time was not on her side. Yet, she grinned at the sight of the skystorm. Oddly, now that she had seen the storm with her very own eyes, she felt able to go against it. They say that half the battle was to recognize the enemy; and now Freya recognized it. Impossible as it might be, Freya felt that there must be a method to go through it. Mayhap this feeling was imaginary and was her own way to cope with defeat: by convincing herself that there was hope. Mayhap… there was indeed hope.

The situation was bleak, but Freya would not give up. This was a battle she couldn’t yield.

‘It’s hard calling that destruction pretty,’ she raised her voice to speak to Drizzle.

‘That’s why is pretty, lass.’

‘It’ll be pretty when I conquer it.’

‘Ha!’ he snorted, thinking that she had made a joke. Upon looking at her face however, he knew she was serious. He still laughed, but a different kind, not of mocking but of respect. ‘Ya really wanna conquer that?’

‘I will have to.’ The wind made way for her voice and the words reached Drizzle. His expression portrayed surprise and… jealousy?

‘Try the sanctum, lass,’ he said, throwing his jug of wine to the sea, as if finding determination. ‘They’ve ship for storms.’

***

Vod’s sword shattered after he swung it.

It wasn’t that his opponent had broken his sword; but rather, the sword couldn’t handle the slashes he threw and broke after a few swings. This was a weakness he couldn’t get rid of.

The immortal has waited for this, Vod thought. In his previous battle with her in the monastery, he had broken a number of swords—he even had to take the sword that the Hawk squad leader’s corpse was leaning on—and she must be familiar with his weakness by now.

Kokuri the immortal didn’t waste this opportunity and lunged at Vod, each hand holding a kunai enshrouded with darkness. He could hardly fight without a sword—most Zenists were. But, at the face of Kokuri the immortal trying to kill him, he remained unfazed and still. In his mind, he called out a name, but nothing happened.

Thus, he stretched his hand toward his squad and waited. When he did, Vod could see the immortal’s pitch-black eyes glancing at his hand, she knew what was about to happen.

Vod couldn’t find himself a sword that wouldn’t break in his grip. Instead, he found someone who could toss him a sword at a perfect timing for him. Before the immortal’s kunai could reach her, the hand he stretched toward his squad felt a hilt of a sword. Her kunai was closer to him than his new sword was to her; but, in terms of speed, Vod knew what he was capable of.

Acknowledging his skills, Kokuri retreated, resigning her attack, and dodged his diagonal slash with a step to the side. She’s good at dodging.

Each side paused to reassess the situation. She’s figuring out how to kill me, Vod thought. He glanced away from the immortal to see the leader of monster worshipper still writing on the ground with blood. Feeling the wind’s blow, he could also tell that the skystorm would force him to suspend the fight.

The monster worshipper could win this battle by stalling the fight.

Vod couldn’t tell what the monster worshipper’s objective was for, hence he couldn’t allow them to win this battle, not when he couldn’t tell if he could afford accepting defeat. Not having much choice, Vod had to risk losing some of his squad member’s life. He lifted a hand to give the signa—

A sword jutted out from Kokuri’s chest. This caught everyone by surprise, including the immortal herself; but she regarded the stab with a sigh.

Vod had yet to give a signal to his squad. He focused his sight through the surging rain to see a man behind her. A man without a white uniform whose face looked familiar to Vod. ‘This is for Kadas!’ he shouted with rage.

Kadas… Vod thought. The Hawk squad’s leader. Last he heard of them, they couldn’t bear the loss of their leader and was spent as drunks. He didn’t expect one of them here, but… This is perfect.

Vod lifted his hand and gave his squad a signal: to attack the leader of monster worshipper. Vod would not waste this window of opportunity. He dashed toward the spearman, planning to occupy him so that his squad could get the leader. Responding to his dash, he thrusted his spear at Vod. He tilted his head and the spear grazed his ear, a calculated risk: a small wound in exchange for a slash.

He thought he had him, but the spearman retracted his weapon in a flash. Thrusting the spear again at Vod. This time, he couldn’t dodge.

Vod grabbed the shaft of the spear and held onto it tight. Had he not, the blade of the spear would have stabbed him on the eye and through his skull. He then let the force of the blow threw him backward.

Vod rolled on the ground with his back and regained his posture.

He looked forward to see that the spearman wasn’t allowing anyone from his squad to reach his leader. In fact, someone was already stabbed on the leg. The immortal on the other hand had freed herself from the hawk squad’s member and was pulling the sword out by herself.

‘Done!’ the leader shouted, raising his bloody hands toward the air in victory. A grin surfaced on his face.

Vod’s haste at the spearman had caused him failure. He had failed to stop the monster worshippers from gaining their objective, but he could still kill the leader.

A kunai came at him from the side. Vod pulled his head back to dodge. The immortal had recovered from the wound on her chest and was back into the battle.

***

After swinging her kunai, Kokuri turned her head to see the spearman carrying the leader on his shoulder; retreating from the Zenist. No more reason to stay, she thought. She too made a run for it, for she was not interested in a prolonged battle with the swordsman. And, as expected, he was chasing her.

‘Choose,’ she said to him. A kunai in each hand, Kokuri threw the weapon enshrouded with darkness at 2 different directions. One was at the squad who was still focused on the running spearman, another at the person who had stabbed her and was on the ground.

The swordsman ran toward his squad’s direction, dispelled the darkness, and deflected the kunai.

They failed to die, Kokuri thought. How unfortunate…

She looked to the direction of the man who had stabbed her, expecting a beautiful corpse lying lifelessly on the ground. To her disappointment however, a person had defended the man. Someone with leather armor. A knight.

He glared at her ferociously. However, she didn’t pay him any mind, nor did she bother remembering his face. She knew from a glance.

You can’t kill me.