She was stronger than before.
Not by a little.
Her speed had risen sharply, and the cold around her carried a much heavier force than before. Every step she took seemed to drag winter behind it, and every swing of her lance left death in clean, merciless shapes.
Below on the path, Shiina glanced up in the middle of her own fight and let out a low whistle.
"Oh," she said with a grin as she cut through another of Mitsuhide's puppet like guards, "I like her already."
Nathan allowed himself the smallest smile.
Yukihime drove her lance forward, piercing straight through one armored knight and lifting him from the ground before flinging him into two others hard enough to break bone beneath steel. She did not pause. She did not waste movement. Her beauty remained untouched even in slaughter, cold and terrible and almost unreal.
A final soldier came at her from the side, sword raised for her neck.
