It happened in an instant.
By now, Alice had realized that ordinary strikes wouldn't be enough to bring me down. Anyone else facing her would have already been lying dead on the floor—or broken enough to beg for mercy.
But I wasn't "anyone."
I was the demon, the Faceless Imposter. Well, not really… but in her eyes, that's exactly what I was. And I wasn't about to fall so easily.
That was why she shifted her approach.
—Swoosh!
The aura surrounding her sword wavered, no longer steady, but fluctuating wildly. My instincts screamed.
'What's this? Aura release? Or… deliberate overload?'
Then it happened.
"Haap!"
Her aura burst forth from the blade—detaching completely. The shimmering light twisted midair, convulsing like a living thing, until it condensed into the unmistakable form of a sword.
—Swish!
My eyes widened. "This…!"
A technique I had never seen before. Not in our sparring, not in the fragments of game knowledge I carried. It meant one thing only:
