Sayo didn't wait.
The moment her footing returned, she lunged—blade first.
I blinked back. Not far. Just enough to breathe.
The blade split the air in front of me. Her follow-through was flawless—no hesitation, no breath wasted.
She pivoted, letting the weight carry into a second swing.
I ducked beneath it, rolled to the side, came up with my arm raised—thread already active.
I didn't attack. Not yet.
She moved like she knew what I would do before I even considered it.
Another lunge. I sidestepped. Her blade caught my coat—ripped fabric, shallow cut.
She didn't stop.
Each motion was efficient. No anger, no noise. Just a storm wrapped in silence.
Erich saw it. He moved in.
She turned, already anticipating him.
He blinked in behind her—his movements sharp, instinctive. He reached out with his hand, aiming to shove or disrupt her stance, body low to drive into her side.
Her body twisted.
Not dodging. Just flowing.
The sword in her hand rose, caught his arm mid-motion, and diverted him cleanly—just enough to send him stumbling back. The impact left a ripple across the pale ground.
They separated—Erich blinking back, sliding into stance beside me.
"She's fast," he muttered. "Too fast."
"It's not just speed," I said. "She's calculated."
Sayo didn't pause. She moved.
This time, she came at both of us.
I blinked sideways to draw her attention. Erich flanked right.
She twisted, adjusted—her eyes never still, never blinking.
She engaged me head-on.
Then her shadow moved.
It detached—not wild, not flailing. Precise. Controlled.
It shaped itself into a form.
Another Erich.
I saw it too late.
As Erich moved in from behind her, the shadow swung—his exact motion, reversed. Their attacks collided. Force cancelled.
The mimic had matched him perfectly.
I shouted, "What the—"
To late.
My back hit the ground. Her heel had struck my chest mid-warning. I rolled, coughing.
Erich blinked again, barely avoiding a downward strike.
"When did she become this powerful?" he spat.
"I don't know," I wheezed. "But we need her."
The mimic faded. Sayo stepped into its place.
She slashed at Erich. He ducked beneath the blade and raised an arm to deflect it with his forearm, gritting his teeth. She drove him back.
Then spun to me.
I blinked again, caught her mid-swing. We clashed. Blade to thread. Sparks of threadlight splintered through the air. Her eyes never shifted. Mine did—toward Clara.
Still seated.
Back still turned.
I tried to hold my ground.
Another swing. I ducked. Another. I sidestepped. Her speed wasn't increasing—but my reactions were slowing.
Erich grunted—knocked back again.
Sayo advanced.
Blow building—fatal.
***
Clara rose.
Slow.
Her movements smooth. Measured.
Her eyes glowed.
Pink and pulsing. Threadlight shimmered at her fingertips.
Sayo stopped moving.
Erich froze. Panting.
Clara walked toward Sayo.
She didn't look at me. Or Erich.
Only Sayo.
Sayo's grip tightened.
She adjusted her stance.
And launched.
The blade came down in a perfect arc—straight toward Clara.
Clara didn't move.
Her hand lifted.
A pulse rippled.
It struck the blade mid-air—redirected it wide. The shockwave cracked the ground beneath their feet.
Sayo spun, unharmed, and landed behind Clara—already swinging again.
Clara met her.
This time with her palm.
Another pulse.
Sayo skidded back.
The field warped.
For the first time since entering this plane—Sayo looked challenged.
Clara stepped forward.
Sayo rushed her.
They met.
Clara ducked under the first strike—threadlight bursting from her hands as she countered with a downward force. The ground buckled. Sayo's feet slid across the surface, catching herself.
A blade swept low.
Clara jumped.
They clashed mid-air.
Pink light against shadow-steel. Impact rippled through the field.
When they landed, both slid backward—feet carving lines in the pale surface.
Sayo's shadow rose again.
Clara's thread pulsed.
They charged.
And the world seemed to pause.
For a single moment—everything converged.
Then time snapped forward.
Sayo struck low. Clara parried.
A pulse rang out—not from Clara, but from the clash. The energy shot into the field, splitting the ground beneath them.
Erich flinched as debris lifted from the shock.
"Is this… really Clara?" he muttered.
I didn't answer. My eyes stayed locked on her—this version of her.
I'd never seen.
She moved like someone who had done this before.
Sayo's blade came high again. Clara met it mid-strike, and the force echoed like thunder. The glow from her eyes didn't fade—it intensified.
The ground buckled beneath their feet. Clara twisted and sent a wave of threadlight from her palm—a direct strike. Sayo's shadow surged up, forming a barrier that cracked under pressure but held.
Sayo leapt forward through the flickering shield. They collided again.
Their silhouettes blurred in motion.
No wasted movement. No restraint.
It wasn't a duel.
It was memory fighting memory.
Pain fighting pain.
Clara slid back, bracing herself with one hand as she skidded to a stop. Her other hand raised—charging another pulse.
Sayo didn't wait. She dashed forward, faster than before. Clara released the blast—Sayo spun through it, shielding with her blade, the threadlight spiraling around her.
She emerged from the glow unscathed.
Clara was ready.
A second pulse struck her directly in the chest.
Sayo flew backward.
Her feet didn't touch the ground.
She caught herself mid-air—thread wrapping around her wrist like a tether—and landed in a crouch.
When she rose, her shadow surged beneath her like a storm building from below.
But she didn't attack.
She waited. For Clara.
They stood, glowing—one pink, one black—each flickering with power.
They weren't done yet.
Their next strike would be different.