In the eastern part of the city, Lexy let out a low whistle as she morphed back into her most used appearance. "If we've been counting kills, I think you've killed more than me by, like, two times," she remarked with a smirk, wiping streaks of demon blood from her arm. Zeva flicked the blood off her sword with a sharp motion, exhaling through her nose. "I haven't been keeping count, but probably yes, I killed more than you," she replied simply. Lexy chuckled and gestured to the streets around them—hundreds of demon corpses sprawled across the stone, most cut cleanly in half or left in unrecognizable heaps. "Don't play coy. You can be prideful about killing all these demons, you know~?" she teased, but Zeva only shook her head. "Not being coy, just telling the truth," she said, though a faint smile briefly touched her lips before fading again. "Come on. This area seems clear now—let's head somewhere else." Lexy sighed dramatically. "Yes, yes, whatever you say, Ms. Serious," she muttered, rolling her eyes as they started walking—only to freeze mid-step.
Both of them felt it. The air thickened, pulsing with power—an overwhelming pressure that made even the blood-soaked streets seem to darken. Then came the voice. "I was wondering why this side of the city felt massacred," a calm, almost tired tone said behind them. "Was it you two?"
Zeva turned before Lexy could even react. The ground cracked beneath her feet as she shot forward, a streak of color bursting across the street. Every fiber in her body surged with mana, each muscle, bone, and organ reinforced until she reached the fifth stage of enhancement. Her hair flared from vibrant orange to cherry pink, her irises glowing the same hue, and her sword blazed bright—its edge so radiant it looked carved from pure light. Her hereditary ability surged through her veins, magnifying her body's output fivefold, her every motion near weightless, her blade capable of cleaving through anything.
She struck faster than sound. Six movements, one flowing into the next with seamless precision. The first slash came in low from the right, her momentum twisting her hips to drag the blade in a wide horizontal arc meant to shear through his side. The second followed instantly—she pivoted off her back foot, reversing the slash upward, blade singing as it spun into a diagonal cut that curved toward his neck. The third attack came as a thrust; she pushed off the cracked pavement, her entire body lunging forward in a blur, driving her sword straight for his chest.
Without pause, her wrist rolled the sword into a reverse grip for the fourth strike, turning her own momentum against itself as she spun, dragging the blade behind her in a sweeping slash toward his legs. The fifth flowed from that same spin, her body flipping the grip back mid-motion to slice horizontally across where his ribs would be. The sixth and final attack came as she launched upward, twisting midair to deliver a vertical drop of pure force aimed at his head—each movement folding into the next like a storm of petals spiraling in violent rhythm.
Arkanis didn't flinch. His staff moved in precise circles, turning each time her blade came near. When she swung low, he dropped the staff's end, tilting it to deflect the cut aside with a sharp metallic clang. When she thrust, his upper hand turned the staff, redirecting her strike just enough that the blade flashed past his robe without touching him. Her upward slashes met the spinning center of his staff, its rotations catching the sword's momentum and twisting it away before she could pull it back.
Her blade blurred, a streak of pink light, yet his defense stayed measured—efficient, silent, almost lazy. "Somewhat impressive," he murmured, his magenta eyes narrowing slightly as he tracked her movements. "I like the colors... Reminds me of home."
Zeva pressed harder. She feinted high with a flick of her wrist, then snapped the sword down, twisting her whole body to spin through her next swing—a Blossom strike, flowing and unpredictable, each flourish hiding another attack behind it. She stepped in close, changing rhythm, the edge of her sword curving upward in a deceptive flourish meant to force an opening in his stance. He parried every motion, reading her like a map, his staff intercepting each strike before it even reached him. The weapon's ends turned with perfect timing, always just enough—never more—to nullify her assault.
"Sadly, not going to work," he said simply.
Zeva leapt into an overhead strike, putting her full strength into the downward blow. Arkanis angled his staff up, meeting her sword at its midpoint and halting it dead. "The generational difference between us is too much. You're from the Fifth Generation, while I'm from the Third. That gap isn't one that can be crossed easily." Before she could recoil, he stepped in—his free hand driving forward in a short, brutal palm strike to her stomach. The air cracked. The impact reverberated through her metal-hardened skin, the shockwave knocking her enhancement out entirely.
She flew back, the world spinning. To Lexy, Zeva simply vanished—gone in a flash of pink light—before an explosion of dust erupted down the street. Then her body came hurtling back toward her. "Zeva!" Lexy shouted, her legs morphing into tiger limbs, bracing herself as the ground split under her stance. She caught Zeva mid-flight, but the force drove them both into a wall, the stone collapsing under the impact.
Lexy coughed, shaking off rubble, and looked down at the woman in her arms. "Zeva! Are you alright!?" Zeva's color had faded; her body trembled. Blood spilled from her mouth as she tried to breathe through the pain, her expression tightening so sharply it almost broke into tears.
"She'll live," Arkanis said, his tone calm—almost disinterested—as he lowered his hand. "I held back so I wouldn't kill her instantly." His magenta eyes flicked upward an instant before an arrow whistled through the air, missing his head by mere centimeters. Without pause, he tilted his head slightly, the movement fluid, unhurried, before the arrow curved back and came for him again. He turned with it, staff sweeping out in a precise motion that knocked it away—only for the arrow to twist midair and dart toward him once more.
"Well, that's frustrating," he muttered under his breath. His gaze returned to the two women as if brushing off the attack entirely. "Anyway, you kids should get out of here. I prefer not to kill people unless I am ordered to do so, if it can be avoided." With a single motion, he drove the butt of his staff into the ground. A pulse of energy rippled outward, and before Lexy could blink, Arkanis vanished—leaving only a faint distortion in the air where he had stood. The arrow shot upward again, then veered sharply into the sky, chasing after him until it disappeared from sight.
Lexy stood frozen, her chest heaving. The air still carried the weight of his presence—dense and suffocating. She didn't know what had just happened, only that the man who'd effortlessly beaten this years champion had chosen to spare them. That was all that mattered. "Don't worry," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she looked down at Zeva's unconscious form. "I'll get you back to safety."
Zeva's body was limp in her arms, her breathing shallow but steady. Lexy shifted her grip, gathering her close before morphing her legs once more for speed and power. Dust and blood swirled around her feet as she pushed off the ground, sprinting toward the coliseum—toward safety for them both.