The wind continued to blow, though without its previous violence, and the mountain seemed to have regained a dense, almost compact silence. Her steps sank steadily into the white surface, producing only a muted sound.
After several minutes, an anomaly caught her attention. At first she saw nothing distinct—no shape, no movement—but a persistent sensation anchored itself in her mind. Something in the distance seemed to disturb the balance of the nocturnal landscape. She slowed slightly without stopping, focusing her perception on that irregularity.
A faint unease settled in her chest. It was neither a surge of mana nor a clear killing intent. It was colder than that, more neutral—like an invisible gaze resting upon her at the exact moment she observed it.
She took another step.
The ground gave way without warning.
The snow collapsed beneath her weight, revealing a carefully concealed cavity. Her body pitched forward, and the moment seemed to stretch as the white surface vanished below her. She caught a brief glimpse of the sharp edge of the opening before gravity pulled her down.
The fall was long.
The walls rushed past at high speed, revealing layers of rock carved with deliberate method. This was not a natural collapse. Side tunnels appeared at regular intervals, each wide enough to shelter a massive creature. The trap had not been improvised. It had been maintained.
During her descent, her gaze crossed a silhouette gliding within one of the cavities.
A colossal serpent, nearly ten meters long, its scales blue-black with a dull metallic sheen. Two thick horns framed its elongated skull, and its violet eyes fixed upon her without agitation. It showed neither surprise nor haste. When their gazes met, she clearly perceived the absence of tension.
It knew.
The Néanthelyn turned its head and withdrew into the darkness of the tunnel, likely descending toward the bottom of the abyss. It had no need to pursue her. She was already committed.
The fall continued for several dozen meters before the ground rose sharply toward her. Anastasia adjusted her posture midair, bent her knees, and absorbed the impact with precision. The rock cracked slightly beneath her feet, but her body remained stable.
She straightened at once and surveyed her surroundings.
A vast underground cavern stretched before her, supported by thick natural pillars. Pools of stagnant water occupied certain areas, reflecting the faint glow of pale violet crystals embedded in the walls. Secondary tunnels formed an organized network, suggesting structured territory rather than a simple den.
Magnificent.
The thought was not aesthetic but strategic. The place had been shaped to trap, isolate, and control. She briefly lifted her gaze toward the opening through which she had fallen, measuring the distance and the configuration of the walls.
Should I climb back up?
The question was evaluated without urgency. Leaving her opponent's territory would have been rational, yet something in the atmosphere held her in place.
A sharp chill traced along the back of her neck.
She turned slowly.
The Néanthelyn emerged from a side tunnel with controlled slowness. Its body undulated effortlessly, scales catching the violet glow of the crystals. Its dark tongue flicked out with a brief hiss—assertive, but not aggressive. It did not charge. It was settling in.
Its body gradually formed a wide arc, blocking several natural exits of the cavern. There was no haste in its movements, no unnecessary display of strength. Only a cold assurance—the certainty of a predator within its own domain.
Anastasia held its gaze without looking away.
"To what extent must you be strong… to make my body shiver?"
Her hand rested calmly on the hilt of Tenkōsetsu, without drawing it yet. The shiver she felt was not uncontrolled fear. It was an instinctive response—rare—and she was already analyzing it.
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
The Néanthelyn did not allow the silence to linger. Its body contracted slightly before launching forward with a brutal acceleration that contrasted sharply with its previous slowness. Its mass tore through the cavern air, and the ground trembled beneath the force.
Anastasia drew Tenkōsetsu in one fluid motion.
She did not fully free the blade, keeping part of it sheathed to anchor her stance, and intercepted the charge at an angle. The impact was violent. The rock beneath her feet fractured outward in a web pattern, and a shockwave rippled across the cavern floor. She absorbed the force by bending slightly at the knees, her free hand pressing against the serpent's flank to redirect its trajectory.
The power was considerable.
The Néanthelyn pivoted immediately, using its momentum to lash its tail in a wide arc. The massive body of scaled flesh whistled through the air before striking the space she had occupied a fraction of a second earlier. Anastasia had already slid aside with precision, allowing the tail to pulverize a natural pillar.
The stone column collapsed under the blow.
Massive fragments crashed to the ground, and the ceiling vibrated dangerously. Shards of rock fell around her as she repositioned, evaluating the true range of her opponent. The serpent did not fight only with its fangs. It used the environment as an extension of its body.
The Néanthelyn opened its jaws.
A dense stream of venom shot toward her under heavy pressure. The substance struck the wall behind her as she sidestepped, and the rock immediately began to boil. The surface eroded within seconds, eaten away by corrosive force.
The venom was not decorative.
It destroyed.
Anastasia advanced, closing the distance to prevent a second projection. The serpent lowered its head with calculated precision and attempted to seize her between its fangs. She intercepted the upper jaw with the partially drawn blade of Tenkōsetsu, while her left hand pressed against the lower jaw to block its closure.
The fangs stopped mere centimeters from her face.
The pressure increased.
Her arms tensed as her muscles absorbed the serpent's mounting force. Scales grated against the divine blade with a dull scraping sound. She held her ground without trembling, observing the angle, the tension, the rhythm of the creature's breathing.
The serpent abruptly withdrew and coiled around her.
The loops closed with violent force, compressing the space between them. Pressure mounted rapidly, the rock beneath them cracking under the strain. Anastasia felt her ribs protest under the sheer strength of the constriction.
She did not panic.
Her free hand slid between two segments of scales, locating a structural weakness in the muscular layering. She pushed sharply, creating minimal breathing space. Then she used Tenkōsetsu as leverage, inserting the blade between two coils to prevent complete closure.
The Néanthelyn tightened further.
Stones fell from the ceiling as vibrations intensified, some crashing just meters away. The cavern echoed with the struggle. The serpent was not seeking an immediate kill. It was exhausting her. Testing her limits.
Anastasia concentrated her strength into her arms and forcefully pushed one of the coils outward. The gap created was sufficient for her to rotate free, sliding beneath the serpent's body before it could seal the hold again.
She landed in a low stance, the blade still only partially drawn.
The Néanthelyn pivoted with unsettling fluidity, destroying a second pillar with a tail strike aimed at the space she had occupied seconds before. The cavern was losing stability. Cracks spread along sections of the ceiling.
The serpent exploited the terrain fully.
It circled her in a wide arc, reducing the available space and forcing her to remain in motion. Every attempted strike was immediately followed by counterpressure or a tail sweep. It sought to restrict her angles, gradually confining her within a shrinking volume.
Anastasia continued to evade, her movements precise and calculated, never wasteful. She blocked another bite with the flat of the blade, redirected the serpent's head toward the ground, and shifted laterally before a jet of venom crossed the space she had just vacated.
She still did not attack at full force.
She measured.
Every impact against Tenkōsetsu revealed the density of its scales. Every movement of the serpent defined its maximum amplitude. Every tremor of the ground outlined the structural limits of the cavern.
The Néanthelyn did not slow.
It struck again, faster this time, combining a bite with a rotational surge. Anastasia raised both hands to intercept the head, her feet sliding slightly across the damp stone under the pressure. The collision vibrated through her entire skeleton, and for a brief moment she felt the serpent's full mass pressing against her.
A faint smile crossed her lips.
The strength was real.
The danger as well.
She shoved the serpent's head aside with a sharp motion, retreated in a controlled leap, and straightened, the blade still half drawn, its tip aligned toward her opponent.
The pressure of the battle did not ease. Despite the serpent's power, Anastasia felt a new tension settling within her. It was neither anger nor pride. It was a controlled excitement—an increasing interest in this brutal exchange where a single mistake could prove fatal. The serpent was powerful, methodical, perfectly adapted to its territory.
The cavern would not endure much longer.
The destroyed pillars had weakened the structure, and cracks now ran along the ceiling. Blocks of stone fell intermittently, crashing against the floor with heavy resonance. She noted it with a peripheral glance.
It was time to end this.
She stepped back, creating clear distance between them. Then, in a deliberate motion, she fully drew Tenkōsetsu from its sheath. The blade emerged into the cavern air, and an intense blue radiance burst from it—pure, sharp, almost unreal against the violet gloom.
She raised the weapon with one hand.
A stream of blue mana flowed from her body without visible strain, drawn toward the blade as if by natural attraction. The metal vibrated faintly beneath the influx, its glow deepening and concentrating. This was not uncontrolled release. It was methodical feeding.
The blade seemed to absorb.
As the mana condensed within it, its brilliance intensified. A thin crystalline layer spread across the steel, as if frost were forming from within its structure.
The Néanthelyn sensed the danger.
Its body tensed, and it lifted its head, aligning its horns toward her. Between them, a sphere of dark mana began to form. Unlike Anastasia's blue light, this energy was dense, nearly black at its core, compressed with unsettling precision.
The sphere grew visibly.
The air warped under its pressure. Fragments of rock rose slightly before being pulled toward its center. The serpent maintained the compression without trembling, channeling its entire strength into that single point.
This was the decisive strike.
No feints. No prolongation. One of them would fall.
The sphere reached critical density and then collapsed forward into a massive beam. A column of compact energy tore through the cavern, obliterating the remaining pillars in its path. Rock melted, fractured, and disintegrated under the force.
The beam came straight at her.
Anastasia did not move.
She lowered her center of gravity slightly, steadied her breath, and murmured calmly,
"Descending strike."
Her blade fell.
The motion was simple and vertical, without flourish. Yet the instant Tenkōsetsu cut through the air, a glacial wave erupted along its path. It was not chaotic. It was precise—a structured line of absolute cold.
The serpent's beam split cleanly in two.
The energy parted, each half detonating laterally against the weakened cavern walls. The freezing wave did not stop there. It continued forward, striking the Néanthelyn with the same implacable precision.
The serpent was cut.
No immediate spray of blood followed. The strike passed silently through its mass, dividing the body into two clean sections before gravity intervened. Its scales fractured under instantaneous frost, and a layer of ice spread outward from the line of impact.
The entire cavern froze.
The walls, the stagnant water, the violet crystals, even suspended fragments of rock were seized by frost. The floor crystallized beneath her feet, and a dense, frozen silence imposed itself over the space.
The two halves of the serpent collapsed heavily.
No convulsion.
No final movement.
Anastasia kept the blade lowered for several seconds, observing the trace of her strike. The mana gradually dissipated from Tenkōsetsu, though the frost remained.
She raised the weapon slightly.
"So this… is the power of a divine blade."
Her voice echoed faintly within the frozen cavern.
The icy silence lasted only seconds.
A crack split across the cavern ceiling, then another. The extreme cold had weakened the already damaged structure. Entire sections of rock began to break loose, crashing to the floor in heavy, resonant impacts.
The cavern was collapsing.
Anastasia looked up toward the circular opening through which she had fallen. The distance remained significant, but the walls offered enough irregularities. She sheathed Tenkōsetsu in one smooth motion and pushed off from the frozen ground.
Then she leapt.
Her body rose in a single surge, and her hand drove deep into the rock wall. The stone gave slightly under her fingers, offering purchase. She propelled herself to the opposite side, driving her other hand into the facing wall just before a massive slab crashed down where she had been moments earlier.
Her ascent became rhythmic.
Each hold fractured the rock, leaving deep impressions in the wall. Debris rained around her, some fragments brushing past as the shaft filled with dust and falling stone. She did not slow.
The distance shrank.
The roar behind her intensified as a large portion of the ceiling collapsed inward. She accelerated again, her movements precise despite the instability.
At last, the sky appeared.
A black strip above her, stark against the subterranean darkness. She made one final push, seized the rim of the pit, and launched herself outward just as the structure beneath caved in completely with a muffled thunder.
She landed on the snow.
The ground still trembled faintly from the collapse, but the open air felt calm by comparison. She straightened, leaving behind the cavity that had sealed over the Néanthelyn's remains. The night had grown silent once more, the black sky stretching above the mountains.
Then—
An impact.
A crushing force struck her from behind before she could turn. The air was ripped from her lungs, and her body left the ground as if weightless. She tore across the snow for dozens of meters, thrown without control, the white surface exploding beneath her passage.
Her back hit rock.
The collision cracked the stone behind her and sent shards flying in every direction. Her body rebounded and rolled again before finally coming to rest in a deep furrow carved through snow and stone.
Silence returned.
Anastasia remained motionless, struggling to breathe, unable to understand what had just happened.