[Johanna — POV ]
As Shigeo and Dante moved toward their respective fronts, a sudden ripple tore through the space above them.
A flash of blue light erupted before them—a translucent barrier, iridescent with celestial energy, stopped the gravitational wave dead in its tracks.
— "You really thought I wouldn’t be watching your backs ?" a woman’s voice thundered.
Johanna hovered at rooftop height, surrounded by a sacred halo.
Her combat armor, polished to perfection, glead with golden light. Intricate patterns adorned the silver plates on her shoulders and the length of her semi-transparent cape.
Her chestplate bore the sacred insignia of lania, goddess of war and strategy.
In her hands, she held a sword of pure energy—not forged of steel, but a concentrated stream of divine essence.
Its hilt was encrusted with blessed manite crystals.
This was the Knightly Mode—a sacred state activated through the Blessing of lania, goddess of righteous conflict.
Her blue eyes locked unflinchingly onto the airborne enemy before her.
The assailant wore a long black cloak, slit at the sides. In one hand, he held a scepter, its tip curved like a scythe.
He smiled, as if entertained by the mont, his bleached white hair floating around a face far too young for the blood he’d spilled.
Olivier Oberon.
The disgraced forr heir of House Oberon.
And one of the most feared assassins on the continent.
— "Johanna Beatrice Don Quixotte," he murmured with syrupy irony. "Still playing the noble knight in the age of missiles and gacorporation ?"
She replied calmly, without lowering her guard.
— "Olivier Oberon. You should’ve never left your house."
He gave a low chuckle, twirling his scepter between his fingers.
— "Oh? Has the Saint co to drag ho? Adorable. Too bad I love the sound of bones breaking far too much to go quietly."
— "You don’t deserve death," she said coldly. "You deserve a trial. To watch your pride rot in a cell where no one rembers your na."
Olivier’s smile twitched. A shadow of rage crossed his face.
— "Enough... YOU’RE UNDERESTIMATING ?! Holding back?! Because you spread your legs for the Church?! Because you still believe in forgiveness and peace?!"
He slamd his scepter into the ground.
An invisible vortex erupted, warping the air. Shards of gravity ripped debris from the ground, swirling like blades.
Dos of crushing pressure surged around Johanna, keeping her at bay.
GRAVITY ARTS : ORBITAL COLLAPSE
Pillars of stone were uprooted and launched at her like massive missiles.
But she did not flinch. She turned, drawing a circle with her foot.
— "Celestial Guard : Blue Shield !"
Three energy shields materialized instantly, forming a triangular defense.
The projectiles either bounced off or shattered into glowing fragnts.
With a sweep of her arm, she unleashed a cutting wave that tore through the gravitational curtain in front of her.
Another. And another. She advanced with every strike.
— "You can’t keep at a distance forever, Olivier."
Olivier narrowed his eyes.
— "You’re cute when you’re pissed. It turns on." He snapped his fingers.
GRAVITY ARTS : TONNE
A reverse gravitational pulse exploded beneath her.
Johanna was flung into the air, her heavy armor suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand tons.
Her limbs were pulled in opposite directions, away from the earth. She fought the urge to panic.
— "Tch... That bastard..."
She spun midair, then raised her blade in a flash.
HOLY SWORD ARTS : RAIN OF EOS
From the tip of her sword, a dozen blades of condensed divine energy erupted.
They cut through the gravitational currents, fracturing space and forcing Olivier to widen his manipulation zone, burning through more power.
He bent the waves back around himself, forming a protective cocoon.
— "Wanna play ranged ? Fine. Let’s see if you can keep up."
GRAVITY ARTS : SINGULAR BLADE
He extended two fingers. Between them, a thin black blade shimred into existence—no thicker than a hair, yet sharp enough to slice steel like butter. He launched it at supersonic speed.
Johanna twisted, narrowly dodging. The blade grazed her shoulder, slicing a piece of her cape.
She landed heavily, the tal platform cracking beneath her boots.
— "He’s fast... and unpredictable."
But she wasn’t about to let him control the tempo.
She surged forward, sword trailing behind her, charging straight into the distorted waves.
HOLY SWORD ARTS : GUARDIAN’S LANT
A golden aura burst from her back, forming wing-like patterns.
Her blade ignited with a reddish glow—and she struck.
A colossal vertical slash, cleaving the air and crushing the gravitational field around her.
The local gravity collapsed under the sheer force of the blow.
Olivier backstepped, but the blade clipped his cloak—leaving a thin cut on his cheek.
His smirk vanished.
— "You... you actually cut ... You sanctimonious bitch."
Rage boiled over, and the night sky seed to darken further.
GRAVITY ARTS – ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE LEVEL 01 : GRAVITON TYRANT
Four black spheres appeared around him—miniature black holes, devouring light and threatening to collapse everything nearby.
He hurled them forward in formation, creating an unstable field—impossible to cross.
But Johanna didn’t move back an inch. She placed two fingers against her blade and whispered a prayer.
HOLY SWORD – FINAL ARTS : KEY OF VICTORY
Her sword blazed into pure light. She leapt, her entire body glowing with blessed power.
The gravitational spheres popped like soap bubbles at her passing.
She sliced through the air, a trail of divine lightning behind her, and brought her blade down right in the heart of the gravity field.
A burst of radiant energy detonated on impact.
— "AAAAAAAH...!" A scream of fury, to release pain and effort.
Drained and low on energy, Olivier fell back on the basic techniques taught to Oberon novices.
He used Oblique Tide, a destabilizing wave that flipped space itself—up beca down, down beca up.
Johanna was disoriented for a mont but she had trained for such aberrations.
Her feet found stability on a platform of light. She leapt—and struck again.
The wave shattered a portion of Olivier’s false sky.
— "You never understood... I am light-years beyond your cheap tricks. Surrender before you worsen your fate. I don’t want to destroy you." she said, voice firm, gaze proud.
— "You still look down on . You’re a saint, sure, but still just another arrogant noble."
— "Motherlania granted the right to walk above nations. I say this without doubt : my strength cos from my mother—and therefore, it has no limit."
— "And yet... everyone knows that it is a mythology invented a few years ago to feel protected."
— "Say that again, heretic!"
They clashed, faster and harder than before.
Olivier hurled gravitational micro-spheres like mines.
Johanna carved through space itself with her blade.
But he was too fast. Always retreating, attacking from range.
Every ti she advanced, a new wave knocked her back.
It was like a duel between an archer on a tower and a knight too heavy to climb it.
So she changed tactics.
She summoned multiple copies of herself, made from blessed energy—each one firing beams of light to overwhelm the battlefield.
Olivier panicked. He tried to implode them—but in that instant of distraction, she charged, gathering all her strength into one final strike.
Just before impact... a sigil of steel erupted from the ground.
— "HALT."
Figures dressed in white appeared all around him.
Inquisitors—dispatched only in the most extre cases.
Their bare arms were tattooed with seals, their eyes cold as they looked upon Olivier like vermin.
One of them raised a hand.
— "Na : Olivier Oberon. Charges : High treason, murder, terrorism, unauthorized use of hereditary Oberon power. You are under arrest."
Olivier crashed to the ground, golden chains beginning to bind his limbs.
He tried to raise his scepter one last ti. A seal exploded across his chest. He scread, writhing.
One by one, his gravitational rings vanished, absorbed by a nullification field.
He collapsed to his knees, rage trembling on his lips.
Johanna descended slowly. She was panting, drenched in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead.
Olivier tried to get back on his feet, his eyes wild.
— "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO LOCK UP?! I’M OF LYTHERIAN NOBILITY! MY PARENTS WILL POST BAIL, YOU CORRUPT BAST—!"
A wave of spiritual energy slamd him back to the ground.
— "Shut up. Your breath reeks." one of the Inquisitors snapped.
Still gasping, Johanna drove her sword into the platform.
— "It’s over, Olivier. This ti, you’ll face judgnt."
The Inquisitors kneeled to honor her.
— "Thank you, Lady Johanna. Your intervention prevented a massacre. You may stand down now. We’ll handle the rest."
She nodded. Gave Olivier one last look.
He stared back at her with burning hatred.
— "You haven’t won anything..."
She replied softly, almost sorrowfully :
— "I have. I stopped one more death."
She walked toward the evacuation helicopters.
Short of breath, armor cracked, blood on her cheek... but still standing.
The Holy Knight had prevailed—not by killing, but by fighting to the end so justice could be done.
For justice does not always need blood to strike.
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