"Aren't you supposed to be a demon hunter? You see a demon and hide?"
Part of her meant it as a jab, part as a test.
If he rushed out to attack, she could open the Umbrella and disappear while the demon's attention turned elsewhere.
The thought of using him as a distraction settled coldly in her stomach, but she couldn't ignore the instinct to protect the body she now inhabited.
Darius's jaw tightened as her words struck a nerve.
"Miss Mirror," he replied quietly, "you speak like someone who has never seen true battle. A Skarn over two meters tall is already beyond what common soldiers can handle. This one is more than twice that. Even the full garrison of Drakamor would pay dearly to bring it down. Perhaps the warriors of Cindral could face it, but not men like me. We can hunt small monsters and protect travelers, yes. But throwing oneself at such a demon alone is not bravery. It is foolishness. A dead man saves no one."
His voice held no boast, no false modesty. It only carried an understanding of limits learned the hard way. Nova fell silent, pressing closer to the willow trunk.
Across the street, another presence stepped into view.
A woman this time.
She moved with the casual certainty of someone who did not see herself as prey. Taller than Nova, dressed in a black sleeveless top bound with a golden pouch, and a short skirt that left her long legs bare to the night air. Silver hair streamed down her back, so long it brushed near her heels. And she carried a sword just as long as her hair, which was strapped across her back.
Each step she took toward the Skarn rang softly in the stillness.
The demon's lips peeled back, revealing rows of jagged teeth as its eyes narrowed, recognizing a challenge instead of a fleeing animal.
The woman, however, did not slow. The firm rise and fall of her chest matched her measured breathing, the heavy weapon at her back swaying only slightly with her long strides. Confidence radiated from her in waves, clear enough that Nova could feel it even from her hiding place.
The two figures moved toward each other on the wide street, alone in the hollowed-out city. The Skarn's aura pressed against the night like a storm cloud, and the silver-haired woman's presence cut through it like lightning.
Nova swallowed in tension.
From beneath the willow's hanging branches, Nova watched the silver-haired warrior and the towering demon stand facing one another. The distance between them was not large, only several dozen paces, but it felt wide enough to hold every living fear in the city.
Soon, the Skarn's massive frame hunched slightly as it squared its shoulders, digging into the ground with its claws.
The woman simply stood there, with one hand resting on the hilt of the enormous sword strapped across her back, staring at the demon.
"It seems that woman plans to fight it alone," Darius murmured beside Nova, his voice tight with disbelief as he watched alongside. "Reckless… a bull-headed fool. To face a demon like that with no support… and a woman, no less. She's as good as dead."
His words were muttered in scorn, but underneath the disdain, Nova could hear something else in his voice.
Fear.
Or a subtle respect he did not want to admit.
She kept her eyes on the woman in black, feeling a strange pull she could not explain. There was something in the air around that silver-haired figure...
Nova could not name it, but it pressed against her skin and settled somewhere deep in her chest.
And then at last, the Skarn moved first, letting out a roar.
*Graaaa*
Its roar tore the air apart.
Sound exploded outward in a wave thick enough to feel. Stones rattled along the ground. Dust leapt up from the earth and spiraled through the air just from that roar.
The special cloth flapped wildly against Darius's grip, threatening to tear free. Nova clung to the Umbrella and dug her sandals into the soil, bracing herself as the roar faded into a low, echoing rumble.
Then the demon charged.
Its feet hammered into the street, gouging grooves in the earth with each step.
The ground shuddered under its weight, and clods of dirt broke free and flew in all directions.
At five meters tall, it moved with sickening speed, its hulking form bearing down on the lone woman like a collapsing mountain. For a heartbeat, Nova thought the warrior would simply be crushed where she stood.
Instead, the woman's hand slid smoothly up to the hilt of her sword.
She drew in one fluid motion.
*Swoosh*
The blade emerged from its sheath like a streak of night metal, broad and impossibly heavy. The moment Nova's eyes fell fully upon the runes glowed up on its blade, her heart lurched.
Heat flickered below her ribs.
Her pulse jumped faster, not from fear of the demon but from something else that resonated below thought, as if the blade itself were calling to something hidden inside her.
She could not look away.
The woman then shifted her posture, one slender leg stepping forward, body lowering just slightly as her weight found its anchor. The giant sword rested loosely in her hands, yet it did not wobble or drag. Then, without any warning, she kicked off the ground and soared into the sky.
Her body shot upward, her silhouette clearing the rooftops in an instant.
At the same time, the Skarn stomped hard and launched itself into the air to meet her, its massive bulk rising with frightening power.
As the woman swung the sword, its enormous blade sliced along a perfect curve, and the air hissed around it, parted by force and intent.
A wet sound followed in the next second.
For a heartbeat, nothing made sense.
The demon's body continued forward, huge and unstoppable.
Then Nova saw it clearly.
The creature's upper half hung in front of the woman, arms spread in a grotesque imitation of flight.
Its lower half sailed past her, continuing its former path without a mind to control it.
And then blood burst from the demon's gaping mouth and torn torso, spraying outward into the air like a dark fountain.
Against the bright disk of the moon, it looked like an ink stain spreading across a pale page.
When the pieces fell, the sound was dull and final.
The Skarn did not thrash or struggle. It simply broke apart when it hit the ground, its monstrous strength severed as completely as its body.
"Wha..."
Nova stared, her breath stalled in her throat.
The demon she had seen earlier during the ghost parade had already been terrifying beyond reason, yet this one had been larger, heavier, more vicious.
And it had been ended in a single exchange, one clean strike delivered in midair by a lone woman.
Meanwhile, the warrior landed lightly on the tiled roof of a nearby building, her sword lowering with lazy ease, as if it weighed no more than the Umbrella in Nova's hand.
The cold gleam of her blade and the silent calm in her stance struck Nova harder than any roar.
In that moment, she seemed less like a person and more like some guardian spirit of the night, standing watch over a city that trembled beneath unseen claws.
"So beautiful…" Nova whispered, without realizing the words had escaped.
She could not tear her gaze away.
The image seared itself into her mind, etching the shape of the sword, the curve of the woman's leap, the cold grace of her landing.
It felt as if someone had carved that scene into her heart with a delicate knife.
The awe she felt was not like the admiration she'd held for Alice back in the other world.
This was something harsher and sharper, tinged with a fierce sort of yearning.
A girl.
A girl like her.
Holding power great enough to split a demon in two.
The thought rooted itself deep inside her.
In this strange world where monsters prowled the roofs and ghost parades filled the streets, how much protection could she expect from chance meetings and borrowed kindness?
Rely on the goodwill of strangers?
Hide behind names she barely understood?
Sooner or later, those fragile protections would fail.
And then what?
Become someone's pawn?
Someone's decoration?
Or seek safety by clinging to the side of a powerful man or selling her dignity?
The idea filled her with quiet disgust.
No.
If there was any image she wanted to chase, it was the one before her now: a woman who needed no one to stand between her and danger. A woman whose beauty and strength did not contradict but moved together, bound in steel and motion.
The silver-haired warrior turned away at last, leaping down from the roof with that same effortless control. She disappeared into a more distant stretch of street, heading toward some lonely corner of the night that awaited her.
"Phew..."
Darius then exhaled slowly in relief, wiping off his sweat, as the tension in the air thinned.
He carefully folded the cloth and tucked it back into his pack, his shoulders sagging with relief. Only then did he straighten, his eyes still tracing the place where the demon's body lay split and broken.
"I never thought she would be one of them," he said quietly. "A Blademaster."
He shook his head and gave a rueful, almost bitter-sounding chuckle.
"That sword," he continued, "those strange markings on the blade… they mark her as such. The Blademasters are different from ordinary warriors. Few in number, and feared by both demons and men. Every time the night parade sweeps across the land, strong fighters gather from all corners of the world. Among them, there are those who can defeat giant demons single-handedly, stand against armies of monsters, and alone change the course of a battle. And above even those, the Blademasters stand, gifted and cursed at the same time."
His gaze drifted briefly to Nova, then away again, as if ashamed to have been caught hiding under a cloth while another did the fighting.
"As a man," he muttered, half speaking to himself, "all I could do was crouch behind a tree and watch a girl take down that thing. This world… how much more upside down can it become?"
Nova barely heard him.
Colour had risen to her cheeks, her breathing shallow and quick. Her heart hammered with a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration.
Her body still remembered the tremor of the demon's roar, yet her mind clung stubbornly to the sight of that woman's blade carving through the night.
A Blademaster. A woman bound to a cursed sword, walking the line between human and something else. A warrior whose name alone stirred rumor and unease. Dangerous, rare, and powerful enough to face what others fled.
She had never considered herself brave.
Back when she had been a boy, she was painfully ordinary, hiding in corners, letting life move around him while he clung to quiet interests and silent loves.
Yet now, in this place where the rules of her old world no longer held, something inside her stretched toward that image like a plant toward light.
Could she only watch from the shadows forever?
Could she bear to live as someone who always needed to be shielded, hidden under someone else's cloth, waiting for others to fight?
The answer rose in her with startling clarity.
No.
The admiration she felt twisted slowly into something more focused, more determined.
It felt like thirst.
Not for blood or battle, but for strength.
For the right to stand in front of danger instead of constantly shrinking behind it.
For the ability to protect this borrowed body, and maybe someday, to protect others too.
Under the wavering leaves and the fading scent of demon blood, Nova clenched her hand more tightly around the Umbrella's handle.
In that dark, uncertain night, watching the last trace of the Blademaster vanish into the distance, she made her first true decision in this world.
One day, she would stand like that.
One day, she would take up a blade of her own.
One day, she would become a warrior. A woman warrior whose name did not have to hide behind anyone else's.