The storm was seen first.
It was not wind.
Air rolled upward in a single mass, pushing the ground aside,
and from within, a white form burst forth.
Beneath the full moon,
a white weasel.
It was Miryeong.
Rina fixed her feet to the ground.
Immediately, her armor rang out.
The metal shuddered as if resonating,
and her breath followed a half-beat behind.
This was not the sensation of wind cutting her cheeks,
but pressure that threatened to push her entire body away.
The Miryeong in her memories had been sharp.
Fast and precise.
But
the Miryeong before her now was different.
It was simply a colossal storm.
Rina pressed her toes into the dirt once more.
Before raising her sword,
the habit of first planting her body.
She lowered the armor’s weight to fix her center.
But the air shook first.
No—
it did not shake. It was pushed.
In that instant, Rina realized.
Here, it was not the wind,
but her very position that could be pushed away.
Her calculations had not ended at distance.
Even the things beyond that distance
had already entered the battlefield.
Rina gritted her teeth.
She had known.
On the night of the full moon,
their power—
that which the Empire called "magic"—grew stronger.
She had certainly prepared.
She had even measured the distance.
Yet
she had not thought it would be to this extent.
Even so, Rina did not retreat.
Idrin was already drawn up to its limit.
Vitality pulsed like a heartbeat from within the armor.
She raised her sword,
aiming at the form boring in from the front.
And the storm reached her first.
The air surged forward.
Pure pressure, not wind.
Her armor shuddered,
and the dirt beneath her feet split open.
From within,
Miryeong’s body burst forth.
A foot was visible.
A trajectory aimed precisely at her chest.
Rina raised her sword to meet it.
She anticipated the moment metal and foot would collide.
But—
before they touched, she was pushed back.
An invisible layer existed before her eyes first.
The air hardened,
and along the foot’s trajectory, it pressed into her.
With her sword raised, Rina waited for the moment of contact.
If metal met metal,
the impact would stop at her wrist.
The armor would absorb it; her bones would endure.
But this time was different.
Before contact,
the air became the strike itself.
Neither shield nor sword,
an invisible plane pushed against her chest.
A sensation not of breath entering inward, but being forced outward.
Her heels slipped.
Her sword had clearly succeeded in defending,
yet the impact had already dug its way inside her armor.
It was not a storm.
Space itself was colliding.
Rina gritted her teeth and endured.
In that brief gap, she glanced aside.
To the right.
The positions of the two knights who had stood with her were empty.
Broken branches swayed between the trees,
and the dull sound of armor striking wood followed belatedly.
A storm.
Rina looked to the front again.
Tonight’s calculations
had been off from the very beginning.
Rina exhaled evenly.
She suppressed her trembling.
She organized her senses
and measured the distance anew.
The storm was fierce,
but it undeniably had a center.
Pierce that one point, and the flow would collapse.
Her pride was speed.
Short, rapid thrusts.
A preemptive strike entering half a beat before her opponent’s movement.
Rina lowered her body and plunged straight in.
Her sword shot out.
But the trajectory wavered.
Her arm had moved with certainty.
Her gaze, her timing—neither was wrong.
Yet
before the blade tip arrived, the air surged in first.
Pressure seeped in diagonally,
deflecting the tip to the side.
The thrust could not extend straight.
Rina gritted her teeth and pushed the sword in once more.
A gap created by twisting her wrist.
But the line of the sword did not trace the straight path she intended.
As if cutting through water,
strong resistance clung to it relentlessly.
The storm was no simple defense.
Space itself was flowing.
Rina’s sword
no longer moved according to her will.
Miryeong’s eyes narrowed.
“Futile.”
The words were as brief as a breath.
The next instant,
her body dug in deeper.
Strikes that would normally have flowed in continuous succession stopped.
They did not flow.
Instead,
her center fixed.
The moment her foot touched the ground,
the wind wrapping around her changed direction.
It did not scatter.
It gathered.
And the storm contracted.
Miryeong’s fist extended forward.
Along that trajectory,
the wind raging from all directions was sucked into a single point.
The air converged as if tearing apart,
and the pressure condensed to a razor edge.
This time, Rina’s sword could not block.
Compressed wind erupted following the fist.
Her armor rang,
and the impact pierced straight through her body.
Enduring it was, quite literally, impossible.
Rina’s body lifted into the air
and flew backward violently.
Her back struck a tree first.
With a dull impact, the trunk split from its center.
The wood burst open as if exploding,
and fragments flew in all directions.
But her speed had not yet decreased.
A second tree shattered in her wake.
Roots shook, and dirt burst upward.
Rina passed straight through that impact.
Only at the third collision was her momentum broken.
A thick trunk bent deeply and held,
and Rina’s body came to a halt as if snagged upon it.
Broken branches fell slowly.
The forest fell quiet for a moment.
Rina stopped, leaning against the tree as if held upright by it.
“Keugh—”
Her breath burst out as if severed.
Something hot rose up her throat.
Her mouth filled with the taste of metal.
Rina’s bloody cough fell to the dirt.
The moment she inhaled,
her right ribs rang deep.
Cracked,
or already dislocated.
Strength would not enter her right arm.
The hand gripping the sword trembled faintly.
Sensation spread dully.
Her left leg could no longer properly bear her weight.
Perhaps it was broken.
But Rina did not close her eyes.
She merely hung her head and gasped for breath.
Blood ran down her throat.
Pain as if her lungs were tearing cut off her breath.
She could not flee.
She was a knight.
With that thought, she drew Idrin up even further.
Her heart beat fiercely.
Vitality forced its way upward, and her split ribs blazed with heat.
Sensation returned faintly to her right arm.
Along with even greater pain.
But now she could move.
Rina gritted her teeth and raised her body.
She put strength into her left leg.
A creaking sound echoed from within the armor.
Her balance wavered,
but she did not collapse.
Her breath was already ragged.
But her eyes did not blur.
She raised her sword again.
Beyond the storm, Miryeong was visible.
Rina exhaled low.
“Not yet.”
Miryeong slowly moved her steps.
The storm still wrapped around her body,
but it no longer rampaged as wildly as before.
Before her eyes stood Rina.
Battered.
Blood-stained armor,
a sword held in a crooked posture.
That sight overlapped.
With Melanie’s face, standing as blood flowed from her chest.
That moment was brief.
Miryeong did not blink.
Soon the overlap faded.
What now stood before her was Rina.
Rina pushed her sword toward Miryeong, squeezing out her last strength.
Her posture was broken.
Her arm would not fully extend,
her legs could no longer properly support her.
Even so, the sword tip aimed precisely at Miryeong’s heart.
Miryeong stepped aside.
The back of her hand moved lightly,
flicking Rina’s sword away.
The blade spun through empty air,
and soon the brief ring of metal hitting the ground echoed.
The next instant,
Miryeong’s foot shot in.
The impact was concise.
Rina’s body flew backward once more.
Striking a tree, her breastplate rang,
and a thick trunk split.
Broken branches fell, stirring up dust.
Rina lay collapsed, gasping for breath.
Blood flowed from the corner of her mouth.
“Kill me.”
Her words were short and rough.
She merely raised her head and glared at Miryeong.
Miryeong slowly approached.
The storm had already subsided.
The surrounding air sank heavily,
and only her footsteps rang clear.
She stopped before Rina.
The silver ornament fixed to Rina’s breastplate gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
Pibulla.
The symbol bestowed at a knight’s inauguration ceremony.
Miryeong knew of it.
Rina’s breath trembled roughly.
Miryeong raised her gaze to meet Rina’s eyes.
A brief silence flowed, as if time had stopped.
“No.”
Miryeong spoke flatly.
And the moment Miryeong’s gaze touched the Pibulla,
Rina understood.
This fight had moved beyond a matter of life and death;
it was crossing into a matter of having her very self stolen away.
Miryeong’s hand moved.
The clear sound of metal being torn away rang out.
As the securing pin came free, a small shock spread across the breastplate.
The Pibulla came to rest in Miryeong’s hand.
That ornament was not mere metal.
It was not simply a small decoration embedded in armor,
but the very confirmation and honor of *you are a knight*.
For a brief moment, the memory of receiving it at her inauguration ceremony brushed past the nape of Rina’s neck.
A hand—not a blade—pressing upon her shoulder.
Its weight.
It was because of that weight that Rina still could not flee even now.
And so her breath grew even rougher.
Not blood,
but something broken rose up her throat.
Rina’s eyes changed.
“...Give it back.”
It was a hoarse voice.
The following words were no longer a request.
“Give it back.”
For the first time, a different emotion was mixed within them.
Miryeong did not answer.
“Just... kill me...”
Rina’s voice cracked.
Miryeong looked no longer at her.
She turned away.
Beneath the moonlight,
nothing remained upon the breastplate.
“Please...”
Rina tried to reach out her hand,
but she could move no longer.
All she could do was stare at the empty space where Miryeong had disappeared,
and gasp roughly for breath.