Beyond the back door lay the Saluzzo family's private arena.
It was a circular stone enclosure ringed with tiered seating, now lit by torches that cast a flickering glow over the sand-covered ground at its center.
One by one, the guests took their seats, buzzing with eager conversation.
Salvadore pulled Texas into a seat in the front row. She looked at Lappland standing at the edge of the arena, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
In a low voice, Salvadore said, "Watch carefully, Cellinia. This is Siracusa."
Texas nodded, thoughtful.
Alberto stood at the highest point of the stands, looking down at his daughter from above.
Then he waved a hand.
On the opposite side of the arena, an iron gate slowly rose. From the dark tunnel beyond came a guttural growl and the grating scrape of claws against stone.
A young ripper-beast stalked out.
It stood half a head taller than Lappland, quick on its feet, with sharp fangs and wicked claws.
It stared at the little girl before it, a low rumble vibrating in its throat as its forepaws dug into the sand.
Quiet whispers rippled through the stands.
"A ripper-beast? This isn't child's play."
"It's only a juvenile. If they really meant to kill her, they wouldn't go this far."
"Wouldn't go that far? Look at that thing's eyes. It doesn't care whether it's still young."
Su An's gaze turned cold.
This was not the kind of performance he wanted to see.
Lappland stood in the middle of the arena with nothing in her hand but a short sword.
The beast did not pounce immediately. Instead, it circled her, searching for an opening, growling low in its throat as a warning.
Lappland tightened her grip on the blade and lowered her center of gravity slightly.
Floating beside her, Su An said softly, "Its left hind leg has an old injury. It doesn't dare put too much weight on it when it walks. Draw it toward that side, then when it lunges, dodge right and stab for the neck."
Lappland's ears twitched once, showing she had heard him.
The beast stopped circling.
It lowered its head. Its shoulder blades rose.
A sign it was about to spring.
Lappland gripped the hilt tighter.
The next second, it charged.
It was unbelievably fast, hurtling straight at her.
Lappland moved right just as Su An had told her to, but midway through the leap, the beast twisted its body by force and lashed out with a sweeping foreclaw.
Lappland raised her sword to block, but the impact was so great that it sent her flying backward. She crashed hard into the sand, and the short sword flew from her hand, landing several meters away.
For a moment, the stands fell silent.
Lappland had nothing within reach now.
The beast landed, turned, and sprang again.
There was no time to retrieve the sword. Lappland could only roll away, but she failed to avoid it completely.
The beast's claws grazed her face, tearing a gash above her right eye. Blood welled up at once, streaming down her cheek and dripping into the sand.
She staggered backward, nearly losing her footing.
Lappland quickly widened the distance, trying to edge toward the short sword, but the blood from her right eye blurred her vision.
The beast landed, turned back, and licked the blood from its claw.
It had tasted it.
Its eyes gleamed brighter.
Now it knew this prey could bleed.
Now it knew this prey was no longer a threat.
The stands were deathly still.
Texas stood in a corner of the spectator seats, watching Lappland in the sand.
She thought of the grape from earlier, sour enough to make anyone wince. She thought of that inexplicable burst of laughter. She thought of how often Lappland had glanced toward her side before.
She did not know what Lappland had been looking at.
But she knew what Lappland needed now.
"A weapon..." she murmured, fists tightening instinctively. "She needs a weapon."
The short sword stood embedded in the sand a few meters away.
The beast had seen it too.
It shifted a step toward the blade, blocking Lappland's path. It was not stupid. It would not let its prey reclaim a weapon.
Lappland stood where she was, blood still pouring down her face.
No one in the stands spoke.
No one entered the arena.
No one helped.
This was the Saluzzo family's display. It was none of their concern.
The beast adjusted itself, bared its fangs, and lunged at Lappland again.
Some of the guests cried out. Some shot to their feet. Some turned their heads away.
But Alberto remained in his seat, unmoving.
Su An's voice rang by her ear, more serious than ever before.
"Lappland!"
"Today is your birthday. You can make a wish to me."
Lappland looked at the beast hurtling toward her, and at the voice sounding beside her.
All this time, she had thought Su An was only a hallucination.
After all, these past few days, all he had done was talk to her. He had never done anything else.
But now there was no time to think.
"Kill it for me."
"Done," Su An answered at once.
The wish-power born of a desperate desire to survive had always been abundant.
The instant the words fell, Lappland felt the world go silent.
She felt as though her body no longer belonged to her.
And then... she stood up.
No—
It was not that she had stood up.
Her body had moved on its own.
For the first time in years, Su An felt what it meant to have a body again.
He had drifted for so long that he had forgotten the sensation of weight, of warmth, of a heartbeat.
Now, borrowing Lappland's body to stand, all those long-lost sensations came flooding back in a torrent.
Heavy. Burning. Exhilarating.
The beast's fangs were already right in front of him.
The short sword was several meters away.
The beast was in front of him.
There was no time to pick up the sword.
No time to dodge.
Then—
Don't dodge.
The beast lunged, jaws opening wide, its fangs less than half a foot from his throat. Instead of retreating, Su An surged forward, thrusting his left hand directly into its mouth.
A chorus of shocked cries erupted from the stands—
"Has she gone mad?!"
"She's throwing away her hand?!"
Alberto's eyes narrowed sharply.
The beast's jaws snapped shut, sinking through Lappland's arm. Blood gushed out, splattering across the sand—more than before, brighter red than before.
But Su An did not stop.
That arm drove straight into the beast's throat. His fingers pierced through soft flesh, groped for something, seized it, and yanked—
Slipped.
He failed to tear it free.
But the beast's roar turned into a strangled whine. Its throat convulsed in agony, and it gagged in place.
Seizing the opening, Su An snatched up the short sword from the ground, leapt, and drove the blade in through the beast's left ear—downward at an angle, straight into the brain.
The blade twisted.
Then it came out.
A second strike followed, slashing across the throat.
The motions flowed one into another, smooth and absolute.
Blood burst from the beast's neck, spraying across his face.
Then the huge body crashed to the ground, convulsed twice, and lay still.
The arena went silent.
The entire courtyard was as still as a grave.
That blood-soaked girl stood beside the beast's corpse, half her face smeared red, but the one eye still visible froze everyone in place.
What terrifying ferocity.
Among the guests, even the family heads who had witnessed countless killings could not hide their shock.
"My God... she's only ten..."
"How did she do that? Those movements—some adults couldn't manage them!"
The guests stared at one another, and someone muttered, "Th-This... this is the bloodline of the Saluzzo family?"
Texas stood rooted in place, lips slightly parted, unable to say a word.
So this is... Siracusa?
From his place high above, Alberto showed a real expression for the first time.
Shock.
Then wild delight.
He looked at his blood-drenched daughter standing over the beast's corpse, gripping a short sword that still dripped blood, her eyes filled with killing intent.
It was a look he had never seen in his daughter before.
That was not the gaze of a ten-year-old child.
That was...
the gaze of a wolf.
Su An looked at him.
He looked at Alberto Saluzzo.
The father of this body.
The man who had thrown the rabbit with the broken neck at his daughter's feet.
The man who had sent his ten-year-old daughter into an arena.
There was still a little wish-power left.
Enough for one more thing.
In his heart, he shouted:
Lappland, make a wish. Kill him.
There was no response.
Silence.
He could feel that power—the power to interfere with reality—rapidly fading. If Lappland wished it, he could act at once.
The sword was already in hand.
The distance was close enough.
If he added just a little more of his own power as a stake, he was one hundred percent certain that before the strength vanished, he could make Alberto's blood splash across the arena floor.
Kill him.
He said it again in his heart.
If that's what you want.
The power weakened more and more, draining from his body little by little until it disappeared completely.
Su An turned back into that transparent, intangible ghost, unable to touch anything.
He lowered his head and looked at his hand.
It was gone again.
Lappland regained control of her own body. She stood there in place, covered in blood, breathing hard—
but still standing.
"Why didn't you make the wish?"
Lappland did not answer him.
At last, applause broke out from the stands.
First one or two people.
Then a dozen.
Then the whole arena.
"As expected of the Saluzzo family's daughter!"
"Well done!"
"This is the future of Siracusa!"
Alberto descended from the stands, walking step by step toward his daughter.
He stopped in front of her and looked down at the child bathed in blood, at the short sword clenched in her hand.
Then he smiled.
A truly satisfied smile.
"Very good."
He reached out, intending to pat his daughter on the head.
Lappland shifted slightly aside and avoided it.
Alberto's hand changed course smoothly, settling instead on her shoulder.
He pressed hard.
Su An could see Lappland's body trembling faintly.
"Go back. Have a physician treat your wounds."
Alberto turned and walked toward the guests crowding in to congratulate him, his face once more covered with false smiles.
Lappland remained where she was, motionless.
Su An floated beside her, watching.
Her face showed no expression at all. Blood still ran from her wounds, yet she seemed unable—or unwilling—to feel any of it.
"Why didn't you—"
He stopped halfway through the question.
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