"Shouldn't be a minute," Celia said, her voice cool and confident as she rose to her feet atop the icy ledge.
Every guard in the compound spotted her instantly. Shouts echoed. Movements triggered. Weapons raised.
They pointed. They barked.
Dozens of alien eyes locked onto her.
"Wait a minu—" Haru began, instinctively reaching out.
Too late.
She turned and winked — a mischievous, radiant glint in her violet eyes that stopped him cold mid-sentence.
And then she jumped.
Her figure dropped like a descending star, cloak fluttering behind her, the air wrapping around her like she was born from it — as if gravity itself dared not touch her.
The guards didn't hesitate.
A storm of blue flame erupted from cryospears — dozens of beams streaking toward her as she descended through the night sky.
But Celia was already singing.
A single, haunting note left her lips — pure, piercing, and divine.
In that instant, a shimmering, translucent barrier bloomed in front of her like a crystalline flower of violet energy.
The blue fire clashed into the shield, fizzing and scattering like fireworks against indestructible glass. The heat and pressure curved outward, repelled in ripples of sound and force.
And then—
She landed.
Boots thudding into the snow with a graceful, practiced stomp. She slid back half a step, adjusted her stance, and rose tall with effortless balance, steam flaring out behind her as steam curled around her in a halo.
Amidst the crackling silence, glowing eyes narrowed and focused on her —
She looked like a goddess in the snow.
And every soul in that base knew exactly who the threat was.
She snapped her fingers — a crisp, effortless sound.
And in that single motion, they appeared.
Seven shimmering violet shards — shaped like crystalline guitar picks — burst to life, spinning around her fingers before spiraling down her wrist in perfect sync.
Haru's eyes widened.
Each pick crackled with a musical hum, thrumming with energy like charged notes plucked from the strings of the universe itself.
Then she flicked her wrist.
The picks shot out like sound-guided missiles, streaking across the battlefield and embedding themselves in the icy ground — each one landing at a different vector across the enemy's formation.
A heartbeat passed—
BOOM.
Each pick detonated with a pulse of raw, vibrational force — deep, percussive blasts that slammed into the ground like thunderclaps, sending up snow, energy, and soldiers in every direction. The sound hit Haru's chest like a subwoofer on full blast.
At least ten guards were hurled through the air, limbs flailing before they crashed into the snow like ragdolls.
"Whoa…" Haru muttered, stunned.
Celia didn't even flinch.
She pivoted with a flourish, heels crunching over snow, summoning more picks into orbit around her as she walked — no, strutted — across the field.
Every flick of her hand was a note.
Every crystal blast, a beat.
She was composing violence.
Each pick fired like a bullet of bass, striking one enemy after another with the timing of a virtuoso. She clicked them from her fingers like a metronome — a rhythm of destruction in 4/4 time.
Fire blazed down toward her from behind — a full barrage of cryospear flame.
She didn't even look.
Celia spun on her heel, planted her foot hard — and stomped.
A shockwave burst out from her boot, distorting the air itself. The fire veered off course like it hit a wall of sound, scattering harmlessly into the night.
She was a concert in motion —
A pop idol forged in Manna and war,
A symphony with legs and lips and glowing violet eyes.
And Haru was witnessing the opening act.
With the battlefield as her stage and the snow as her spotlight, Celia kept moving — hips swaying, steps light, her violet eyes glowing like amethysts set on fire.
A soldier charged her from the left, spear raised. She let him get close.
"Wrong girl," she said with a smirk — and tossed a single pick upward like a coin.
It hovered above her head for a split second, then detonated with a bass drop that sent the soldier flying backward in a spiral, crashing into two others like bowling pins.
"Strike," she said, spinning on her heel and pointing finger guns at the pile-up.
Another pair came at her from the front.
Celia reached out and clapped once.
The sound bent the air, forming a dome of harmonic resonance that caught both men mid-run — they froze for a second, bodies vibrating like glass — then collapsed face-first into the snow, unconscious from the sheer overload of sensory pressure.
"You guys really need to get in sync," she muttered, stepping over them.
A spear was hurled from the rear — fast, glowing red with heat.
She turned, humming, and let out a single high note.
The soundwave warped into a violet wall in front of her, catching the spear mid-air. It sizzled, hissed… then flung back like it was nothing.
She flicked another pick behind her without looking. It hit a soldier right in the chest with a melodic ding, exploded midair, and spun him like a top before he fell unconscious.
Celia kept her rhythm.
Snap. Flick. Blast.
Each movement flowed into the next, like she was dancing through a battlefield rather than fighting on one. Her boots kicked snow with every stomp, her hair whipped like a stage banner, and her magic sang for her like a live band.
One soldier tried to outflank her with a wide swing. Celia slid beneath his strike, popped up behind him, tapped his shoulder, and blew him a kiss.
He turned.
Big mistake.
She shoved a pick into his stomach and grinned. "Hold this."
Boom.
The blast sent him flying into the air like a rocket, smoke trailing from his boots as he spun offscreen.
"Man," she said, catching her breath with her hands on her hips. "I should start charging for tickets."
Another cryospear lit up nearby — glowing red, ready to fire.
Before he could pull the trigger, Celia twirled in place, raised both hands, and brought them together in one dramatic clap.
A massive vibrational wave burst out from her like a chorus drop — snow exploded, sound pulsed outward, and every remaining enemy within range hit the ground groaning or unconscious.
Silence fell on that final beat.
The battlefield was empty for now.
Her chest rose and fell gently as steam lifted from the snow around her.
She popped her neck to the side with a sigh.
"…And that's the opening act," she said softly.
"Your turn, Haru."
She heard the sirens blare — sharp, shrill, echoing through the icy night. More troops were coming.
"All soldiers converging on your location," Abel said. "Brace."
Celia didn't flinch. In fact, she grinned.
"Time to get the show started!" she called out, spinning in place as violet light spiraled around her wrists like bracelets made of energy.
Fourteen picks. Seven on each arm. Ready to sing.
The enemy surged in from all sides — snow crunching underfoot, cryospears lit and aimed, their shouts lost in the roar of approaching reinforcements.
Celia stood calm at the center, like a performer waiting for the cue.
She gave them a few more seconds.
Then she opened her mouth and let out a single high note — a ringing, crystalline sound that cut through the chaos like a bell slicing silence.
Haru heard it from his perch.
The signal.
A split-second later, one of Celia's picks blasted through the left-side entrance, the weak point — unlocked and wide open — exploding in a burst of vibrant purple energy. Bodies flew, the shockwave rattling the snowy terrain.
Haru didn't waste a moment.
"That's my cue," he muttered with a grin, sliding down the icy incline like a shadow on a mission.
He darted along the battlefield's edge, hugging blind spots, ducking low. From the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of Celia — holding off dozens like it was just another Tuesday.
Graceful. Fearless. Precise.
She wasn't just fighting. She was performing. Every movement was a beat, every blast a note. Her enemies didn't stand a chance — they were just background noise to her melody.
Haru clenched his fists. If he was gonna keep up, he'd need to find his rhythm too.
He reached the side entrance, still steaming from Celia's blast, and slipped through the smoke and flame. Inside was dark, narrow, and silent — a stark contrast from the battlefield behind him.
He shut the door behind him with a metallic bang.
"Time to get to work," Abel's voice echoed in his head, calm and focused.
Haru grinned.
It was time to get the job done.