Serafall returned to the training area without haste, but also without losing focus. The journey there was mostly silent, interrupted only by the constant sound of the carriage wheels against the ground and the slight swaying of the structure as they moved forward. Beside her, Charlotte carried a rigid suitcase, closed with metal latches and protected as if its contents were more important than anything around it. It wasn’t light, but she showed no difficulty. Her gaze remained attentive, assessing the surroundings even before they actually reached the main gate.

The entrance to the training area should already have been visible at that point, but even before they reached a direct line of sight, it was clear that something was different. The sound came first. Voices. Many. It wasn’t a common conversation, nor a group training session. It was confusion. Disorganized movement. A kind of tumult that didn’t fit the rigid pattern of that place. Serafall narrowed her eyes slightly, adjusting her posture as her gaze became more focused. Charlotte also noticed, slowing her pace for a moment before following the change.

When they finally reached the open field of vision of the entrance, the reason became clear. People were gathered haphazardly, some further away, others clearly hesitant to approach. It wasn’t ordinary fear. It was caution. The kind of reaction that arises when someone who shouldn’t be there... is.

The carriage ahead immediately caught their attention. It wasn’t just any carriage, and it definitely wasn’t something that would go unnoticed in that environment. The door was open.

And then she stepped out.

Rakshasa.

The movement was natural, unhurried, like someone who saw no need to accelerate or adapt to the environment. Her foot touched the ground lightly, and the rest of her body followed with the same controlled calm. Her posture wasn’t defensive, nor aggressive. It was comfortable. As if she were arriving at a place where she already had the right to be.

Her eyes moved slowly around the environment, passing over the people around her without really lingering on any of them. Until she found...

Serafall.

Eye contact occurred the instant Rakshasa tilted her face slightly, and a smile appeared. It wasn’t exaggerated. It wasn’t forced. It was... too natural. Too confident. Captivating in the most dangerous way.

And completely misinterpreted.

Serafall didn’t hesitate.

Her body reacted before the thought had even finished forming. The presence around her shifted immediately, the aura compressing the space with heavy, direct pressure. The ground beneath her feet cracked slightly at the point of impact, and the next instant she was gone.

The advance was swift.

Brutal.

Without warning.

Rakshasa was still finishing the movement of completely exiting the chariot when the pressure arrived. There was no visible surprise, but there was a response. Her body moved in perfect time, slightly rotating her torso while her hand moved with absurd precision.

The blade appeared.

There was no visible summoning, no lengthy preparation. She was simply there, aligned with the movement, positioned exactly where she needed to be.

The impact came the next instant.

Serafall’s fist and Rakshasa’s blade collided in the space between them, and the sound that came out wasn’t metallic. It was something heavier. Deeper. Like two forces compressing the very air around them until it gave way.

The pressure exploded outward.

The ground around them gave way in short waves, cracks spreading in irregular patterns. The air was violently pushed, creating a distortion visible for a second before dissipating. And above them—

The sky opened.

Not like a slow phenomenon. It was direct. The cloud layer was torn apart by the impact wave, pushed away in a wide circle, as if something had pushed the weather itself out of the way.

The silence that followed lasted less than a second.

But it was enough.

Serafall kept her fist pressed against the blade, her arm firm, her muscles tense. Her gaze was fixed on Rakshasa, making no attempt to conceal her intention.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she growled.

Her voice was low, but heavy. There was no doubt in her tone. It wasn’t a neutral question.

Rakshasa didn’t flinch.

The blade remained in place, withstanding the impact without visible tremor. Her body was stable, balanced, as if the shock hadn’t required any real effort.

She tilted her head slightly.

The smile was still there.

"Solving some problems," she replied, as if that were enough. The tone was too light for the situation, almost disinterested.

She looked away for a moment, as if assessing the space around her, before returning to Serafall.

"But I’m curious... why exactly are you attacking me?" she continued, with a slight hint of mockery in her voice. "I didn’t even do anything."

The air around Serafall grew heavier.

Not subtly.

Directly.

The pressure increased, compressing the space between them almost visibly. The ground beneath her feet gave way a little more, the cracks deepening.

"You spoke to my son in private," Serafall said.

Each word came out heavier than the last.

"That alone makes me want to exterminate you."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was charged.

Rakshasa didn’t lose her smile.

In fact, it changed slightly.

It became more interesting.

Her eyes analyzed Serafall more directly now, as if she had finally found something that truly caught her attention.

"Your son," she repeated, as if savoring the term.

The blade rotated slightly, shifting the point of contact without breaking its balance. It wasn’t a retreat. It was an adjustment.

"So that’s how you see it," she continued, unhurriedly.

Serafall didn’t back down.

Not an inch.

The pressure increased a little more.

"Don’t try to reverse the situation," she said. "You invited him while I was away, spoke to him without permission, and now you show up here as if nothing happened."

Rakshasa let out a small sound through her nose, something close to a suppressed laugh.

"Possessive, huh," she mocked. She looked around for a moment, assessing the space as if considering the word literally.

"Interesting choice of words," she said.

Her gaze returned to Serafall.

"But you’re wrong about some things."

The blade moved again, this time with more intent. It wasn’t a direct attack, but a displacement that forced Serafall’s arm to adjust its position to maintain contact.

"I didn’t need permission," Rakshasa continued. "And he didn’t seem particularly bothered, we even gave each other a goodbye kiss when he left"—she paused briefly—"The feeling of his lips... was so good..." her gaze was full of lust, which of course... only worsened the situation.

Serafall reacted instantly.

The force in her arm increased, pushing the blade back an inch, enough to show intent.

"I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!!" Serafall’s scream was more than just sound. It came with the release of power that had been compressed since the first impact. The surrounding air finally gave way, and what had previously been mere pressure became execution.

Cuts began to form in the air, not from a visible blade, but projected directly by her intention. They appeared in sequence, too fast to be followed precisely, cutting through everything around them indiscriminately.

Stone, wood, metal, and even the nearby vampires were struck.

The chariot behind Rakshasa was torn apart in seconds, its structure crumbling into irregular pieces, without any clean pattern. The ground was marked by dozens of deep lines, and the air itself seemed fragmented into layers.

Rakshasa didn’t move.

The cuts simply didn’t reach her. Not because she actively dodged them all, but because, somehow, the space around her seemed... out of reach. The blades passed close by, some near enough to dislodge her hair, others striking the ground beside her, but none truly connected. She merely watched, her blade still positioned, her body steady, her gaze fixed on Serafall without any sign of urgency.

Serafall took a step forward, and the cuts intensified. The pattern became denser, more chaotic, less restrained. This was no longer a refined technique. It was pure vengeance. The intent to kill was explicit, direct, unfiltered. Those nearby had already retreated as far as possible, some wounded, others merely trying to leave the area before being caught in the middle.

It was at this moment that Charlotte moved.

She didn’t run in the opposite direction. She didn’t try to protect herself. She didn’t hesitate.

She moved forward.

The movement was direct, without calculation of survival, only decision. She crossed the space between Serafall and Rakshasa at the exact moment another set of cuts formed. There was no way she could keep up with the speed of it. There was no way to react after putting herself there.

She simply stepped into line.

Serafall saw it.

Not as a secondary detail, but as an absolute priority. Her body reacted before the thought was even finished, abruptly canceling the flow of attacks. The pattern of cuts disappeared mid-execution, creating a slight distortion in the air, as if something had been forcibly interrupted.

"Charlotte—" The word wasn’t even finished.

Serafall was already in front of her.

The movement was short, but enough to reposition her body between Charlotte and any direct threat. Her arm moved instinctively, pulling her slightly back while the other already adjusted to block.

And it was in that minimal interval— that Rakshasa attacked.

There was no warning. There was no visible increase in intent before the strike. The blade simply advanced into the space that opened the moment Serafall shifted focus. The movement was clean, direct, without waste.

The sword pierced the improvised defense.

The impact wasn’t explosive like the first clash, but it was solid. The blade struck Serafall from the side, cutting through the protection she hastily raised. Her body absorbed the blow, her foot taking a half-step back for stability, her arm tensing to stop the blade from advancing further.

Blood appeared.

Little, but visible.

Charlotte froze for a second behind her, her body rigid, her gaze fixed on the blade that had passed inches from where she had been a moment before.

Serafall didn’t react to the wound immediately. Her focus was elsewhere. The arm holding Charlotte pulled her further back, moving her out of the direct line of defense, while her gaze returned to Rakshasa, now colder than before.

The blade was withdrawn slowly.

Rakshasa took a small step back, repositioning her body with the same calm as before, as if that blow hadn’t been a real effort, just a natural response to the opening created.

"I didn’t come here to fight," she said.

The tone didn’t change.

It remained light.

Almost disinterested.

Serafall didn’t respond immediately. Her body was still in a defensive position, her breathing controlled, but heavy enough to show that this hadn’t been trivial. The blood on her side was starting to trickle a little more, but she didn’t look away.

"Funny," she finally replied. "Because you just attacked me."

Rakshasa tilted her head slightly.

"You’re still a crazy bitch, you attacked me first, you idiot," she said simply. "Stop playing the victim, you’re the one to blame."

Charlotte finally managed to react, taking a deep breath once, as if recovering the air she had unconsciously held. Her gaze alternated between the two, but remained behind Serafall, without trying to advance again.

’Crazy bitches!! I risked my life!’ Charlotte screamed internally.

Serafall ignored the comment.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Direct.

No beating around the bush.

Her aura was still active, but more subdued now. There were no more cuts being fired, but the pressure in the air remained heavy, constant.

Rakshasa spun the blade slightly before dissipating it, the object simply ceasing to exist without any exaggerated visual effect. Her hands were free, her shoulders relaxed a little, as if she were in fact ending any immediate combat stance.

"I came to warn you," she said.

Serafall narrowed her eyes.

"Warn you about what?"

Rakshasa didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze briefly swept over Charlotte, assessing her, before returning to Serafall.

"There are people moving," she continued. "People who shouldn’t be moving yet."

A short pause.

"And the focus... is your son."

The silence that followed was heavier than any previous impact.

Serafall didn’t change her posture, but her gaze sharpened.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Rakshasa took a small step to the side, as if repositioning her own space, completely at ease there despite everything that had just happened.

"Like I said," she replied, "there are some disgusting people wanting to know about him."

The tone wasn’t angry.

It was... evaluative.

Like someone observing something they haven’t yet decided whether it’s worth eliminating or not.

Serafall kept her gaze fixed.

"Who?"

Rakshasa shrugged slightly.

"The same as always," she said. "People who think they can get their hands on anything that attracts attention." She paused briefly, just enough to let the information sink in. "And he is attracting attention."

Charlotte frowned slightly behind Serafall, but didn’t interrupt. Her focus was more on her friend’s reaction than on the words themselves.

Serafall took a deep breath, controlling the immediate impulse to react violently again. The information was too important to ignore.

"And that’s why you came here?" she asked.

Rakshasa nodded slightly.

"Partly." Her gaze shifted for a second, as if calculating something. "I also came to see him," she continued.

Serafall didn’t like that.

It was obvious.

The pressure around them increased a little again, but not to the point of turning into an attack.

"You won’t see him alone," she said.

Rakshasa smiled slightly.

"I didn’t expect you to." The tone had a hint of provocation, but it wasn’t direct enough to justify another immediate attack.

"You can come along," she added as if she owned Serafall’s right to come and go as she pleased.

Charlotte finally spoke, her voice lower, but firm enough to join the conversation.

"I think we all came to see him... but he’s in training," she said. "For months."

Rakshasa looked at her this time with a little more attention. "I know, but it seems he stopped this week, I received a report," she replied, adding, "I believe you know that, right?"

Charlotte looked away. ’Damn it, she already knew. Bitch.’

Serafall sighed, "Whatever. If he wants to see you, he’ll see you anyway. Let’s go."

Rakshasa smiled, "Finally~"