Attracted?
"So... you were attracted to ?"
I didn’t press her on how she arrived at that conclusion, or when the thought first took root in that unreadable head of hers, or what exact mont flipped that switch. I didn’t even try. I just stared at her for a second, maybe long enough for the silence to stretch very thin and taut, like a wire ready to snap.
"And how exactly," I asked, keeping my voice steady, "did this attraction of yours lead you to believe that Lilith’s resurrection is inevitable?"
She didn’t hesitate.
"I know for a fact that in order for Lilith to be resurrected, you have to copy all the skills the other fragnts possess," she said, her tone calm, almost analytical. "Our abilities were originally Lilith’s. Each of us is nothing more than a divided aspect of her power. That ans every skill we wield is fundantally hers. So once you collect them all... once you complete that process... Lilith will be resurrected."
I blinked at her.
I genuinely didn’t expect that level of depth from her. Not that she was incapable—she clearly wasn’t—but the way she laid it out so cleanly as well as so logically, caught off guard. When did she even start thinking about this?
" being attracted to you under such strange conditions," she continued, "is sothing I didn’t even know was possible. It wasn’t natural. I didn’t just fall for you in a conventional way. I beca interested in you through an abnormal trigger."
Her gaze didn’t waver.
"Do you think that’s a coincidence?" she asked quietly. "No. I don’t."
There was sothing unsettling about how sure she sounded.
"You could argue that it’s natural because this outco was inevitable. As if sothing—fate, perhaps—is guiding us closer together. I don’t believe I need to elaborate further." She paused, then added, "And considering that all the fragnts besides you are won, it’s reasonable to assu this was the plan from the beginning. Lilith, our creator, likely intended for us to unite with you. To beco whole again. To resurrect her."
For the most part... she wasn’t wrong.
"My attraction to you simply occurred," she said. "It wasn’t gradual. It wasn’t earned in the traditional sense. It manifested."
She wrapped her arms around herself then, fingers pressing lightly against her own shoulders as if trying to hold in sothing simring beneath her skin. It was a strange gesture. It was almost intimate and almost protective. A faint flush spread across her cheeks, though her expression remained mostly neutral. If you didn’t look closely, you’d miss it.
"When I was injured," she went on, voice quieter now, "I felt a burning pain powerful enough to send flying backward. It should have been unbearable. But at the sa ti... it was pleasurable."
She swallowed.
"I had never experienced injury before. That sensation was new and intense. It was overwhelming, in a sense."
I stared at her.
Was she a masochist?
Because that would explain a lot.
It was hard to tell. Her face, as always, was a mask. She was calm and have a very controlled expression. Almost clinical. anwhile, she was casually admitting that getting hurt by sparked sothing inside her. I didn’t know whether to feel flattered or concerned.
"I have no doubt," she continued, "that the two of us will eventually reach a stage where we must beco one."
There was no embarrassnt in her tone. Just certainty.
"As for when... I believe it will happen soon."
Then she raised her sword.
The air shifted.
"But for now," she said, a faint glimr in her eyes, "shall we take the pleasure of dancing once more?"
I exhaled slowly.
Well. That was one hell of a philosophical detour in the middle of a battlefield.
Guess it was ti to get back to what we actually ca here for.
I raised my sword.
The atmosphere snapped tight.
She moved first.
Her blade carved through the air with violent precision, releasing a slash so powerful it generated a visible shockwave. The ground beneath us trembled as the compressed air tore forward, ripping toward like an invisible wall of force. At the sa ti, she launched herself forward, her body blurring as she closed the distance in a heartbeat.
Two attacks. One ranged. One closed-quarters.
That fighting style was very efficient and sotis effective.
I stepped into the incoming shockwave and swung.
Steel t compressed force, and with a sharp crack, I split the shockwave clean down the middle. The impact rattled through my arms, but I didn’t let it slow . The mont the divided force dissipated, I felt her presence shift—
Behind .
I pivoted instantly, raising my blade just in ti to block her descending strike. The clash rang out, tal grinding against tal as sparks burst between us.
We locked swords.
Up close, her eyes were steady and very focused.
Then, without warning, she gathered magic in her free hand.
At point-blank range.
A tight, compressed sphere of fire ford beside us, humming with mana. And before I could comnt on how reckless that was, she fired it.
Usually, that kind of move would hurt her more than . Close-range magic explosions aren’t exactly selective. But she didn’t flinch and didn’t hesitate. It was as if she had fully committed to a more aggressive style, abandoning caution entirely.
Honestly? I respected it.
I activated Guardian.
A protective barrier surged outward, enveloping both of us in a translucent do just as the fire magic detonated. The explosion roared against the barrier, flas licking across its surface before dispersing harmlessly.
Heat washed over us, but neither of us moved.
I swung my sword in a wide arc, forcing her back. She slid across the ground—
—and imdiately dashed forward again.
She didn’t pause. And even reset.
She just went into relentless montum.
She poured everything into her speed, her movents slicing through the air like a blade in their own right. To anyone else, she would’ve been untouchable. She was a blur. A streak of silver and steel.
But she already knew.
She couldn’t outpace .
Maybe she was keeping up appearances. Maybe she wanted to show she was giving her all, that this fight wasn’t so half-hearted exchange driven by weird attraction and philosophical doom theories.
Or maybe... she was testing .
This ti, though, I sensed sothing different.
She wasn’t just attacking.
She was being careful with .
Subtle adjustnts in angle. Controlled force in her swings. Enough to threaten, but not to kill.
She ca at mid-slash, her sword cutting down with lethal precision. The blade whistled as it descended, aid cleanly at my shoulder.
I leaned my upper body back, the edge passing inches from my face. I could feel the wind from it brush against my skin.
Her montum carried her into a near one-hundred-eighty-degree rotation.
But she didn’t stop there.
Using the spin, she twisted again—another one-eighty—completing a full three-hundred-sixty-degree rotation. The movent was fluid and almost elegant. And then, harnessing that rotational force, she drove her leg upward in a brutal kick aid straight at my head.
Just like her sword, though, it didn’t connect.
Her foot sliced through empty air where my head had been a fraction of a second earlier.
I caught her leg mid-air.
The impact reverberated through my grip, her montum still pushing forward. For a split second, we were frozen like that with her balanced on one foot, holding the other.
Using all the strength I could muster, I pivoted and hurled her across the field.
Her body arced through the air before she flipped, twisting gracefully to absorb the force of the throw. She skidded along the platform but didn’t collapse.
Within monts, she regained her footing.
Of course she did.
She straightened, sword lowering slightly at her side.
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