About fifty miles away, Death Sword and Jagged watched as Purple Night and Fall Night squared off.
Neither Death Sword nor Jagged was surprised by the scene.
"How many moves can he last, Death Sword?"
"Hmm... Hard to say. But I'll say at least two, Jagged."
Death Sword paused for a moment.
"What I care more about is his ability."
"You're no fun, Death Sword. I doubt he'll even last one move against Purple Night."
Death Sword said nothing.
He neither agreed nor disagreed with Jagged.
Instead, he simply continued watching the two figures in the distance.
"Here is my first move, Fall Night."
"Whoa… there, Purple Night," he replied with a crooked grin behind his mask. "What do I get if I survive your moves?"
Purple Night didn't bother answering. Her silence was sharper than any blade. She tapped the pouch on her belt twice—tap, tap—and five talismans slipped into her hand, glowing faintly like embers awaiting air.
With a flick of her wrist, the talismans scattered into the wind. Her hands blurred into a series of precise seals, graceful and cold as moonlight. The air shimmered, and the talismans ignited, forming a small killing array that spun like a viper preparing to strike.
Fall Night's body lowered slightly, his foot sliding forward by only a fraction.
Then he vanished.
The half-step of his [Nine Execution Steps] was nearly invisible. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared at the edge of the array. Energy hissed through the space where he had been standing.
But the array didn't stop.
It chased him as though it were alive.
His blackened eyes flickered with excitement, not fear.
Fast. Adaptive. Beautifully crafted…
But flawed.
He struck.
A wave of dark aura formed into a claw and surged from his arm, slamming into the formation. Cracks spiderwebbed through the light, but they were only shallow.
This was another of Midnight's basic techniques, [Immolation Scar].
Fall Night had mastered the length and density of this mid-range projection.
Purple Night smirked beneath her mask, recalling the array with a swirl of her hand.
"Not bad," she murmured.
A heartbeat later, she tapped her pouch again.
Tap, tap.
Twenty talismans rose into the air, their edges shimmering brownish-orange. Her hands danced faster than before, each seal flowing seamlessly into the next.
Her voice cut through the air.
"[Heaven Earth Locked: Burial]!"
The ground groaned.
The talismans anchored themselves, pulling the very earth upward and grinding soil and stone into crushing walls of force.
Fall Night's smirk faded.
"Tch…"
His aura rippled, flaring with wild intensity.
*Something's off with that boy,* Purple Night thought, her heartbeat quickening.
That look in his eyes…
Too calm.
Too hungry.
"Let's see if you can handle this, Purple Night."
He kicked a massive rock, shattering it into dozens of chunks. They spun through the air, whistling toward the talismans.
Purple Night laughed softly.
"Petty tricks—"
But her laughter died as the first stone shattered one of her glyphs, then another.
The formation trembled, absorbing too much impact too quickly. One after another, talismans overloaded and burst apart, their glow flickering out.
She cursed under her breath and recalled what remained.
"Impressive," she hissed. "But let's turn up the heat."
Instead of reaching for her usual pouch, she tapped the larger bag strapped to her leg three times.
A single, slender talisman slid into her fingers, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
"This one's special."
Her tone was laced with challenge—and a hint of thrill.
"A Seeking Talisman imbued with sword qi. Don't die too quickly, Fall Night."
The talisman shot from her hand like a comet.
Fall Night moved before thought could catch up.
His foot shifted in that impossible half-step, and his form blurred into afterimages.
Purple Night's eyes widened.
*That step… I couldn't even follow it.*
But the Seeking Talisman was relentless.
It twisted, curved, and dove after him like a hawk. The sound it made as it sliced through the air was shrill—almost alive.
Thin trails of blood bloomed across Fall Night's arms and shoulder. The cuts weren't deep, but they hurt, each one buzzing with the residual sting of sword qi.
He didn't flinch.
When he appeared again, he was right in front of her.
A palm strike shot out like lightning.
It slammed into her chest, sending shockwaves through her ribs. She gasped and staggered, but before she could counter, another strike swept her legs out from under her like a crashing tide.
Purple Night flipped backward, barely catching herself midair. Her breath came sharply, pain blossoming through her limbs.
Fall Night's gaze met hers.
Cold.
Predatory.
Distant.
It wasn't the gaze of a teammate.
It was the gaze of a beast testing its prey.
Just as he raised his hand again to strike her in midair, the Seeking Talisman howled back toward them, slicing through the air toward his neck.
Sifir twisted aside, sending a kick toward Purple Night's head before sliding back several paces.
When he stopped, he noticed more talismans—seven, maybe more—orbiting Purple Night in protective arcs.
Her breathing was uneven, but her eyes burned with defiance.
She looked down at her chest, saw the bruised imprint of his strike, and frowned.
The pain was sharp.
But the insult was sharper.
That final strike to her head had been both an insult and a declaration.
He was no pushover.
"You did well, Fall Night," she said at last, her voice steady but low. "I'll forgive you… for today. Come. Let's rest. You'll need food if you plan to keep up with me."
Her final words softened slightly.
"Remember this: only strength earns command."
Fall Night didn't answer.
His chest wound oozed faintly, the edges refusing to close. The sword qi still lingered, biting into his flesh like cold fire.
He turned silently toward the Misty Rain Forest, his steps heavy but unwavering.
Purple Night watched him go, the mist curling around his fading figure.
Her expression hardened, but something in her eyes—just for a moment—wasn't cold.
*He's dangerous,* she thought.
*And yet… something about Fall Night's power draws me in.*