A sharp whistle tore from above, closing in on Sylvester in less than a breath.

Clang.

The katana connected with the shield, sending a metallic chime that travelled through the air till it covered the entire battlefield.

Sylvester’s knees buckled under the weight the person was applying, but he held on.

The person jumped back, rotating mid-air as they landed on the floor a few meters away.

She stared at Sylvester with scorn, one that made it feel like both of them had past grudges.

Sylvester rose from his knee, straightening his back as he stared at the lady.

Boom.

The earth blew into rubble, caving in as both sides flooded their bodies with aether.

Without saying any other words, they lunged.

The strength behind the push was enough to push nearby fighters back.

The gap between them was erased like it had never existed or altered in the first place.

Sylvester swung his sword in a wide horizontal arc towards her neck.

The lady caught it with the back of her blade, then pushed Sylvester back a foot, before driving her katana towards his chest with a quick thrust.

Sylvester staggered backward, but he caught himself quickly.

His eyes caught the katana ripping towards his chest, and he acted. He brought his shield up, catching the attack before it could connect.

A tremor rose through the lady’s arms as metal collided, but she ignored it completely.

She pulled her katana back, then pivoted to the side, creating just enough gap for Sylvester’s sword to pass without harming her.

Sylvester turned to the side, where the lady had stepped to.

She was gone.

"Crimson Dance."

Those words echoed in his ears from behind.

Sylvester turned back, raising his shield up to block whatever attack was coming.

The lady did not care; she lunged towards Sylvester.

A meter away, Sylvester gripped his shield tighter.

Splash.

The lady’s body dissolved into a pool of blood.

Sylvester frowned.

The lady swung upward from behind, the blood in front of Sylvester surging towards her blade as they completed the arc together.

Rip.

Flesh parted as blood sprayed into the air.

Sylvester’s eyes widened as the pain hit him.

His body jolted backward on instinct, avoiding the lady’s katana aimed for his nape.

He turned to look at the lady.

She was calm, as though Sylvester was completely beneath her.

"Root of Reconnection," Sylvester said as he touched his back.

The wound was deep and long, stretching from his waist to the back of his neck.

Aether surged along his palm. Then, green roots began to coil out of his palm, entering the wound and stitching it from within.

The lady furrowed her brows, then lunged.

She was not about to sit back and watch Sylvester heal.

Sylvester watched as she closed in.

"Inferno," he yelled.

The space above her warped lightly.

The lady’s eyes widened, her foot faltering for a fraction of a second.

That was all Sylvester needed.

From the sky above, a massive beam of flames shot down, incinerating even the air till it reached the lady.

The charred smell of flesh filled the air as the flames swallowed the lady whole.

Sylvester’s body healed fully at the same time, the bones and flesh stitched together as though they had never been cut before.

His eyes were fixed on the flames as they began to disperse.

A sharp glint entered his eyes, closing in faster than he could track.

His body moved faster than his mind could follow, bringing his shield over his head to block the attack.

He skidded backward, his feet caving into the earth beneath as he was pushed back by the strength behind the thrust.

The lady came down, backflipped a few meters away, then lunged again.

Sylvester sidestepped, narrowly avoiding her blade.

Before the lady could withdraw, Sylvester drove his foot into her stomach.

Her body folded inward before it got hurled through the air till it collided with the ship’s walls.

Sylvester heaved heavily as he looked at her.

The lady staggered up, still holding her katana with her left hand.

Her right arm was no longer there, even the wound was burnt black, a testament to the flames that had consumed it.

Blood trickled down her forehead till it reached her jaw.

"Why can’t you just stay down?" Sylvester sighed, his grip tightening over his sword and shield.

The lady slashed at thin air, then looked into Sylvester’s eyes.

Sylvester pushed forward, destroying the earth beneath him as he lunged.

"Boreal Shield," he yelled as he positioned his shield in front of him.

Aether surged out from his core like a tide, everything collapsing into the surface of his shield.

The impact made him slow down in his tracks before he continued at his previous pace.

Layers of rotating icy winds formed over the shield.

The lady’s hands lurched forward, smashing against the shield’s surface.

A thunderous explosion spread from the point of impact.

Then came the sound of metal cracking before it finally exploded into fragments.

The layer of icy wind over Sylvester’s shield broke into aether that merged with the atmosphere instantly.

The lady looked at her broken sword, then leapt backward, just enough to avoid Sylvester’s attack.

Her head snapped upward, then aether began to roll out.

"Thousand Red Blossoms."

The words came out of her lips. They lacked any emotion expected of a human.

The sword in her hand dissolved.

Sylvester frowned. "Is she ditching her weapon mid-fight?"

His response came very fast.

Blood began to rise into the space near the lady.

They began to reform, transforming into petals with edges that gleamed under the dim light.

"How sharp are those things?" Sylvester wondered aloud.

But he was not given time to think.

The petals began to rotate forward, slicing through the air as they approached Sylvester.

Sylvester’s face dropped.

He did not need to think about it; unless he tapped into every reserve he had, there was no escaping the attack.

Swoosh.

The petals froze mid-air, the blood fizzling uncontrollably till they burst.

They did not land on the floor. They shot through the air, towards a certain person, with speed too fast for Sylvester to even follow.

He did not need to follow the blood.

In that split second given to him, he thrust his sword forward, piercing through the lady’s forehead like butter against a hot knife.