Kael forced his head up.

Sage lay on the ground. Motionless. Her clothes were charred rags. Her golden fur was blackened in patches. Smoke rose from her body in thin, lazy streams. The fox halo was gone—extinguished.

But she was breathing.

The halo had done its job. No deep tissue damage. No scars. Second-degree burns at worst—painful, debilitating, but survivable. Her beast-kin healing factor was already working, visible as a faint golden glow beneath the scorched fur.

Unconscious, not dead.

Mira raised both hands.

Ice and fire spiraled toward Seraphine—twin columns of opposing elements converging into a single point directly at the flame goddess’s back.

Seraphine didn’t turn.

She simply waved one hand backward.

A curtain of fire erupted between her and Mira’s attack. The ice portion shattered on contact—steam hissing into the night air. The fire portion was absorbed into the curtain, adding to its intensity.

Then the curtain surged toward Mira.

A tsunami of divine fire rolling across the street with the inevitability of a natural disaster.

Mira’s eyes widened behind her glasses.

She couldn’t dodge. She didn’t have the speed. The fire was too fast, too wide, too absolute—

Something appeared in front of her.

Green mask. Green eyes. Short black hair. Dark clothing that seemed to drink the firelight rather than reflect it.

Miss Beauty.

The fire wave hit her.

And stopped.

The flames pressed against her body like water against a dam—wrapping around her, flowing over her, seeping into the fabric of her clothing—

And disappearing.

Absorbed.

Every trace of fire that touched her simply vanished, pulled into her body like water into sand.

Mira stared.

Seraphine stared.

The fire wave collapsed—deprived of its fuel, its energy, its very existence. What had been a tsunami of divine flame became nothing more than a wisp of smoke trailing from Miss Beauty’s shoulders.

Then the smoke reversed.

It gathered. Compressed. Turned from gray to orange to brilliant gold. And exploded outward—not toward Miss Beauty, but back toward its source.

Seraphine’s eyes widened.

BOOM.

The reflected fire hit her dead center. The impact lifted her off her feet and sent her flying backward like a rag doll hurled by a giant’s hand. She crashed through the wall of a building fifty meters away. Bricks exploded. Dust billowed. A Seraphine-shaped hole marked her entry point.

Silence.

Kael spat blood. His vision was swimming—gray edges, dark center, the world tilting at angles that didn’t make sense. But he could see Miss Beauty standing in front of Mira. Could see the faint shimmer of absorbed energy dissipating from her body.

He grinned.

"Miss beauty."

Miss Beauty’s green eyes snapped toward him.

"Who are you calling miss beauty?"

Thorne took a step back.

Kael’s Essence Trace—still blazing despite everything—finally managed to parse what he was looking at. Miss Beauty’s signature wasn’t just strong. It was layered, complex, dense in ways that shouldn’t be possible.

Mana Heart. Rank 3.

A solid, stable, terrifying Rank 3.

She’s stronger than Seraphine, Kael realized. Significantly.

A groan echoed from the building Seraphine had crashed through. Rubble shifted. Bricks fell. And the flame goddess emerged—robes torn, hair disheveled, a thin line of blood running from her lip where something had cut her inside the building.

But she was alive. Still burning. Still dangerous.

"What did you just do?" Seraphine’s voice was strained. Controlled fury barely leashing something hotter.

Miss Beauty turned to face her. Indifferent. Almost bored.

"Why would I tell you that?"

Seraphine’s eyes narrowed.

Fire gathered in her palm—smaller this time, controlled, deliberate. A test. She lobbed it toward Miss Beauty like a pitch.

The fireball moved slowly. Obviously slowly. A fraction of Seraphine’s actual power.

It hit Miss Beauty’s outstretched hand.

Absorbed.

The energy spiraled up her arm—visible as a brief flash of golden light beneath her skin—and then erupted from her palm in a torrent twice as powerful as what Seraphine had thrown.

Seraphine raised a shield.

BANG.

The reflected attack slammed into her barrier and cracked it. Not shattered—cracked. A hairline fracture running through the divine fire like a fault line through stone.

Seraphine’s eyes went cold.

"So your ability allows you to reflect any attack fired at you," she said slowly. "Then all I have to do is not attack. Avoid direct confrontation. Wear you down from a—"

"How foolish."

Miss Beauty’s voice cut through the night like a blade.

"Do you think I will just stand here?"

She vanished.

No sound. No flash. One moment she stood fifty meters from Seraphine. The next she didn’t exist in that space at all.

Seraphine’s head snapped to the left.

Too late.

Miss Beauty’s fist connected with her back.

CRACK.

The sound was unmistakable. Bone breaking—not ribs, something deeper, something structural. Seraphine’s spine bent at an angle that spines weren’t designed to bend.

She screamed.

The first sound Seraphine had made that wasn’t composed of absolute authority. Pain stripped away the divinity and left only something human underneath.

Miss Beauty didn’t let her recover.

Seraphine’s flames erupted instinctively—a desperate barrier of fire surrounding her on all sides, trying to create distance, trying to buy time.

The fire touched Miss Beauty’s skin.

Absorbed.

And returned.

CRACK.

This punch caught Seraphine in the face. Her barrier shattered. Her head snapped sideways. Blood and teeth sprayed from her mouth as she flew backward—not into a building this time, but skidding across the ground, tearing furrows in the concrete, leaving a trail of divine fire and crimson behind her.

She didn’t get up immediately.

Miss Beauty stood in the center of the street. Green mask unreadable. Green eyes calm. Not even breathing hard.

Kael watched from his position against the wall.

His body was wrecked. His mana was low. His vision kept fading in and out. But his mind was still working—still cataloguing, still analyzing, still searching for advantages.

Miss Beauty’s ability wasn’t just reflection. It was absorption and redirection. She took attacks into her body, processed them somehow, and sent them back with increased power. The weakness Seraphine had identified—don’t attack—was only half correct.

You could avoid attacking her directly.

But she could still hit you.

And she was fast enough to ensure you couldn’t run.

Kael pushed himself upright. Every muscle screamed. Every wound wept. But he moved—staggering toward Sage’s unconscious form, scooping her limp body into his arms, carrying her to where Mira stood frozen behind her glasses.

"Take her," he said.

Mira caught Sage without a word. Adjusted her glasses. Looked at Kael like he’d lost his mind.

"What are you—"

"Get Sage somewhere safe. Don’t come back until this is over."

"But—"

"Mira."

His voice stopped her.

Kael turned.

Thorne stood alone in the middle of the street. Seraphine was still down—groaning, trying to rise, but clearly out of the fight for now. The Rank 9’s attention was split between Miss Beauty and Kael, his wind signature fluctuating with what might have been uncertainty.

"Hey," Kael said softly. "Your turn."