Behind every great power, there is often an equal and opposite cost.
The Gravisheath carried a particularly heavy price: to manipulate gravity with that level of intensity, the weapon demanded blood from its wielder. It was a parasitic blade.
In the history of Le Wolfe Black Institute, very few had ever been able to sate the scythe's hunger without being consumed by it. Irene Urzaiz was a rare exception, though her success wasn't due to willpower alone.
"This Pure Stellar Lux... it's thirsty," Irene smirked, her eyes glowing with a feral hunger. "I think I'll take a little bit of yours to keep it happy."
She took a combat stance, the air around her vibrating with a bone-chilling killing intent. The atmosphere in the street turned brittle.
Haruki Aizawa didn't flinch. His expression shifted from boredom to a sharp, clinical focus. His right hand came to rest on the hilt of Onikiri.
If Haruki drew his blade, blood was going to spill—and given his current level, it would likely be Irene's. However, such an escalation would almost certainly get him disqualified from the Phoenix Festa, or worse, trigger a diplomatic incident between the academies.
Just as the situation reached the point of no return, a voice cut through the tension—one that sounded completely out of place in a street brawl.
"Sister! Stop it! You're picking fights in public again?! I told you to behave yourself! Honestly!"
A girl with hair the same shade as Irene's and a strikingly similar face burst through the crowd. She was wearing the same Le Wolfe uniform, but her aura was soft, frantic, and genuinely annoyed.
The moment she arrived, Irene's aggressive posture collapsed. She looked like a delinquent caught by her mother.
"P-Priscilla... what are you doing here?!"
"I could ask you the same thing! I turn my back for one second and you're trying to start a war in the middle of a shopping district! Give me one good reason, sister!"
"I... I wasn't... I was just..."
The girl, Priscilla Urzaiz, ignored Irene's stammering and turned toward Haruki and Julis, bowing deeply. "I am so sorry! My sister has a very short fuse. Please, forgive her for causing you trouble!"
"Oh... uh, it's fine," Julis said, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone.
Haruki remained steady. "Apology accepted."
"What?! Why are you apologizing to him?!" Irene shrieked, pointing at Haruki.
Priscilla grabbed Irene's arm and yanked her down into a bow. "Apologize, Irene. Now."
"But I—!"
"Now."
Under her sister's iron-clad scolding, the 'Vampire Princess' looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole. She let out a muffled, reluctant groan. "S-Sorry... I guess..."
"I think you could be a bit more sincere than that," Haruki noted.
To anyone else, it would have sounded like he was looking for a fight. But Haruki said it with such a flat, matter-of-fact tone that it didn't feel like a taunt.
"You're absolutely right," Priscilla nodded. "I'm very sorry, Aizawa-san. I'll make sure she reflects on this properly tonight."
"You know my name?" Haruki asked, his curiosity finally piqued.
"Of course," Priscilla smiled. "You're our next opponents, after all."
"Opponents? Wait... you're a combatant too?" Julis asked.
"I'm her partner," Priscilla said, gesturing to the sulking Irene.
Haruki watched the sisters walk away. He had only sensed Irene's explosive energy before; he hadn't even noticed the girl standing right behind her. That meant Priscilla was either a non-combatant support type or she was suppressing her presence to an expert degree.
"That scythe..." Haruki muttered as they continued toward the Sirius Dome. "It reminds me of my Darkin blade. It hungers for blood to sustain its power. It's an interesting concept."
Julis looked at him, worried. "Irene is no joke, Haruki. I really hope we don't draw them early. We need more time to sync our styles."
"The stronger the foe, the better the training," Haruki replied.
They reached the Sirius Dome and entered the main hall for the formal bracket drawing. After the chaos of the prelims, only the elite remained—the Round of 32.
As the digital lottery spun on the massive overhead screens, the pairs were matched one by one. The crowd roared as favorites were pitted against each other. Finally, the screen flashed the names for Seidokan's primary seed.
Julis stared at the monitor, her face going pale.
"You have to be kidding me," she whispered.
Matched against Haruki Aizawa and Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld for the first round of the main tournament: Irene and Priscilla Urzaiz.
The schedule for the Phoenix Festa main tournament was brutal. Unlike the prelims, which were spread over days, the final brackets moved with lightning speed. The Round of 32 began almost immediately.
The stadium was packed to the rafters. Thousands of fans, corporate scouts, and journalists had descended on the central arena. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and expectation.
"Alright, it's our turn," Haruki said, standing up.
Julis adjusted her coat, her hands trembling slightly. She wasn't just facing a rival; she was facing a girl she had known for years—one who had always been a thorn in her side.
"Haruki," Julis said, her voice serious. "Don't underestimate the Gravisheath. If she lands one hit, she can pin you to the floor with ten times your body weight. Speed won't matter if you can't lift your feet."
"I don't plan on letting her hit me," Haruki replied.
He walked onto the stage with his usual detached calm. While the announcers whipped the crowd into a frenzy, Haruki simply closed his eyes and began his meditation. He didn't even draw Onikiri yet.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We have arrived at the match of the night! Seidokan's new Number One, Haruki Aizawa, and the Glühen Rose, Julis-Alexia von Riessfeld, take on the Vampire Princess of Le Wolfe, Irene Urzaiz and her sister Priscilla! Who will advance to the Sweet Sixteen?!"
The stadium lights dimmed, replaced by spotlight beams that converged on the four fighters.
Irene held the Gravisheath, the massive scythe glowing with a menacing purple light. "I told you, Aizawa! I'm going to make sure you never leave this arena on your own two feet!"
"I'm looking forward to it," Haruki said. Even through the taunts, his expression didn't ripple.
Across the field, Priscilla stood in the rear, her hands folded primly. She looked like a spectator, but Haruki's Sense of Fluctuation detected a strange, passive flow of mana coming from her.
"Phoenix Festa Round of 32—BEGIN!"
Julis moved first.
"—Bloom! Red Circle Scorching Slash!"
A storm of fire discs erupted from her, circling around Irene like a cage of heat. But Irene simply swung her scythe in a lazy arc.
VROOOM—
A shockwave of gravitational force flattened the flames instantly, crushing them into the arena floor.
"Useless!" Irene roared, charging Haruki.
Julis didn't retreat. She lunged forward, her blade wreathed in fire. To Irene's shock, Julis didn't back off to use long-range spells; she engaged in a flurry of high-speed sword strikes.
Kirin Toudou's training was showing. Julis's footwork was rhythmic and precise. She parried the heavy scythe, using the momentum of the fire to bridge the gap in their physical stats.
"You've been practicing, Princess," Irene sneered, pushing Julis back with a burst of gravity. "But your little toys won't help you against this!"
Irene raised the scythe, and a pool of dark purple energy began to spread across the ground. Haruki watched, realizing that Irene was actively siphoning mana from the environment—and from the blood she had spilled in her previous matches.
"Haruki! Now!" Julis yelled.
Haruki finally moved. He didn't use a special move. He simply walked through the gravitational field as if the extra pressure didn't exist. He reached for the black hilt on his back.
"Fine," Haruki said, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "Let's see how much weight your 'God-Weapon' can actually carry."
He drew Onikiri, the dark Varanium blade humming in anticipation. The real battle was just starting.
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