Click.
The sharp, tallic hiss of steel leaving its sheath sliced through the air like a warning bell.
Nova turned her head slowly, her lips curling into a smile that was anything but warm. Cold, bloodthirsty her expression sent a chill into the bones of anyone who happened to glimpse it. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, reflected the sword in her hand as though the blade itself had been waiting for this exact mont.
Across from her, Marcella did not intervene this ti. She rely stood with a calm smile playing at her lips, though her eyes betrayed a strange glimr, a flash of light that flickered behind them. She already knew. She had already presud what was about to happen.
Her silence was permission enough.
And that was all Nova needed.
Without another word, Nova’s body blurred. One mont she was standing at Marcella’s side, and the next, she was gone. Air collapsed in her wake with a sharp pop as her figure vanished entirely, reappearing within the arena grounds as though space itself had folded to let her through.
She passed by Razeal’s shoulder in the process, so close that the faint edge of her killing intent brushed against him. Yet Razeal trained, battle-hardened didn’t even notice until it was too late. His perception lagged. His senses felt like they had been shackled, as though ti itself had slowed in her presence. He could do nothing but blink, heart lurching as the impossible unfolded before him.
The platinum do that protected the arena, said to withstand the combined might of Sylva and Razeal at full power, cracked the instant Nova touched it. Her body grazed its surface, and the mighty enchantnts of Celestia spells that should have been unbreakable shattered like fragile glass.
A hairline crack spread outward.
Crkk
The do splintered.
And then it broke entirely, collapsing inward with the sound of a thousand panes of glass shattering at once behind her.
Nova’s eyes flicked toward the spirits circling above S-ranked beings, embodints of power and arrogance. She tilted her sword ever so slightly, and then she moved.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
Her blade carved through the air, each stroke fluid, unstoppable. She did not hesitate, did not slow, every motion perfectly aligned with her intent. She beca a blur of violet steel, a cannonball of death aid directly at Sylva.
BOOOOM!
A sonic boom detonated as the atmosphere itself tore apart under her speed.
Whoooosh!
Air scread in her wake as she descended like a falling star.
And in the very next heartbeat
Sylva was already on the ground.
Her body sprawled across the stone floor, blood pooling around her. Both arms and both legs were gone, severed cleanly from her shoulders and hips. The agony struck her all at once, an unending wave crashing over her nerves.
"Arghhh ahhh! No! What is this!?"
Sylva’s scream tore through the arena, raw and panicked. For the first ti in her pampered life, she felt real pain and not a scratch, not a wound, but the agony of her body torn apart. Her limbs were gone before and now again this ti. Both arms. Both legs. Severed cleanly at the shoulders and hips.
Blood spilled freely across the stone, each pulse of it carrying fire through her nerves. Pain devoured her whole body, searing from her neck to her fingertips, from her hips down to where her legs once were.
She writhed helplessly, eyes wide, tears spilling as she turned her head frantically.
Her spirits. Where were her spirits?
The guardians who had always promised to protect her not to be seen. Useless. Gone.
Her mind reeled. What just happened? When had she fallen? How had her limbs vanished? How had this monster appeared above her without her even seeing?
Above her, Nova pressed her boot harder into Sylva’s throat. Her gaze was steady, expression unbothered, her eyes alight with wild delight.
"Forty thousand tis the pain, wasn’t it?" Nova’s voice dripped with mockery, her lips curving into a cold smile. "Let show you... what real pain feels like."
Unflinching, she raised her sword.
The steel trembled in her grip, dark ripples of violet light coursing across the blade. The very air around it warped as if recoiling from the power she summoned.
"Mind Arts..." she whispered, her grin stretching wider, madder.
Her sword vibrated violently, purple ripples flowing outward like waves through a pond. The arena floor beneath Sylva cracked beneath the weight of the technique’s presence.
"Mind Break."
She brought the sword down.
Shunk.
The sound of steel sliding through flesh was wet, chilling. The blade sank directly into Sylva’s chest, piercing through muscle, bone, and heart in one unrelenting thrust.
Sylva’s scream tore through the air, high-pitched and raw, carrying with it the sound of a mind beginning to shatter.
Her world fragnted. Pain consud her body, but the true terror ca from within her thoughts splintering, collapsing in on themselves as Nova’s technique invaded her very psyche. mories blurred. Emotions twisted. Identity itself began to erode.
The heiress of a Duke’s house, the girl who had been pampered, arrogant, untouchable, now lay broken beneath the boot.
She scread again, but the sound turned into pitiful sobs, the cries of a child stripped of all protection.
Nova only watched. Calm. Detached. Her lips curled into a smile as if she were enjoying the sound.
She didn’t care.
Not about the blood soaking into the earth.
Not about the thousands of horrified eyes fixed on her.
Not about the consequences that would ripple across the empire for harming a Duke’s heir.
Why should she?
Her mother had given her permission.
She was the princess of Virelans.
Consequences were for other people. Not her.
If she wished to play, she would play. If she wished to kill, she would kill. If she wished to ruin a noble’s mind forever with an art forbidden for her age, she would.
Even if Sylva’s mind fractured beyond repair, even if she was reduced to a hollow shell of her forr self none of it mattered to Nova.
Because this mont wasn’t about politics, houses, or titles.
It was about a bitch daring harm her brother and most daring part.. in front of her eyes? The Audacity.
The pleasure of turning pain back onto the one who had inflicted onto him. The pleasure of hearing arrogant screams twist into pitiful cries. The pleasure of taking revenge and able to take out all her anger?
Her sword twisted inside Sylva’s chest with a slow, deliberate motion.
Sylva’s pupils dilated, her voice reduced to pitiful whimpers as the last fragnts of her consciousness slipping away.
Nova leaned down, her smile sharp and rciless.
"You touched soone you shouldn’t have."
Her words dripped with cruel satisfaction, sealing the fate of the once-proud heiress.
Honestly
Sylva hadn’t even hurt Razeal that badly.
But that didn’t matter.
For Nova, it was as if every ounce of frustration, every buried sorrow, every piece of anger she had swallowed until now all of it ca flooding out in that one instant. And Sylva... Sylva was simply unlucky enough to be standing in her path.
It was unreasonable. It was cruel.
But Nova didn’t care.
Nova knew exactly what her skill did.
Mind Break wasn’t simply a cut, a wound, or even a spell that damaged flesh. It was worse.
It forced the brain and the consciousness into a prison of endless agony. The victim would feel as though they were being tortured every second, every heartbeat. For their mind, a single minute under the skill stretched into an eternity of unending tornt.
There were nine levels of Mind Arts. Even though Nova had only used the fourth rank, it was more than enough. For soone without a mind barrier, or without the willpower to withstand the illusions, the technique shattered them. Their identity would unravel, their sanity dissolve, their soul break.
And that was exactly what was happening to Sylva.
A sadistic grin spread across Nova’s flawless face sharp, cruel, and triumphant. Blood streaked her cheek, her boot pressed firmly against Sylva’s throat. Every scream from the writhing heiress only widened her grin, feeding the dark thrill burning in her violet eyes.
She pushed the sword deeper, giving it a slow twist, grinding the blade inside Sylva’s chest.
"Wasn’t this what you wanted?" Nova’s voice was soft, mocking, but her words struck like knives. "Trying to hurt my brother. What now? Are you enjoying it?"
Pain radiated from Sylva’s body, but her mind was drowning in sothing far worse. She writhed on the ground like a fish out of water, her limbs thrashing uselessly, her body pinned beneath Nova’s boot. Every movent only tore her flesh further around the sword lodged in her heart.
And yet green and gold light flickered from the wound.
Her body was healing. The powerful regeneration granted by her spirits was already at work, her severed limbs reforming, her chest stitching itself together beneath the steel.
But it didn’t matter.
Because the pain didn’t lessen. The agony in her mind only grew sharper, deeper. The illusions of tornt devoured her sanity, and for the first ti in her life Sylva thought of escape, thought of ending it herself, thought of smashing her own head against the stone just to make it stop.
Her mouth foad with broken sobs, her eyes rolling wildly as she tried to crawl away, to run from a prison that existed only inside her skull.
And then
"Stay away from her, you disgusting bitch!"
A shrill, furious voice split the air. One of Sylva’s spirits hurled itself forward, wings torn and mangled, half its body covered in gashes remnants of Nova’s earlier strike. Despite its wounds, it surged toward the girl with reckless fury.
Wind gathered in its outstretched hand, spinning into a dense spiral.
"Wind Tornado Bullet!"
Two more spirits appeared beside it, their bodies marked with deep sword scars, but their voices rang out strong, resolute.
"Earth rcy!"
"Nature’s Fury!"
Three spells launched at once sharp, focused, and precise, designed to strike Nova without harming Sylva, who still lay beneath her boot. The force of their combined magic cracked the arena floor, their power undeniable even in their battered state.
Nova only laughed.
Schliiice
The sound of steel scraping free echoed as she pulled her sword from Sylva’s chest, the motion slow and deliberate. Blood sprayed across the floor as she brought the blade up, holding it before her body.
The attacks slamd into her. Wind howled. Stone burst. Roots lashed.
The force hurled her backward, her body twisting mid-air. She landed lightly, boots skidding across the cracked stone, a mad smile still fixed on her face.
"Fuck..." Razeal spat as his eyes fell on Sylva, writhing in blood on the arena floor. Of course... that psychopath sister of mine.
But then again, the strength of this woman was unreal.
How the hell did she break my perception? Even through the Flow, I only felt her ripple so late. Just how fast is she? Razeal wondered, but then again
He didn’t have the luxury to think it through.
Because at that mont, three SS-ranked spirits launched themselves at Nova, their power surging, their attacks already tearing across the battlefield.
"Fuck," he spat again, his pulse spiking. He spun on his heel, running backward fast, his instincts screaming.
Shit’s about to get bad. I don’t have ti. I’ll have to do what I planned already.
His decision was instant. No hesitation.
Razeal stopped, putting distance between himself and the chaos. The ground beneath his boots cracked as he forced himself to steady, his chest heaving. He lowered his head, closed his eyes.
"I need to do it now... before anyone can stop ," he whispered.
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