One blink.
That’s all it took.
One mont, I was standing over the prince’s broken form, my breath steady, my aura still humming low and cold. The next, the world folded.
Space twisted, collapsed, and spat out at the far edge of the training grounds. My boots skidded through dust as my vision warped back into focus.
Then ca the sound.
A deafening crack, like the heavens splitting open. A shockwave rippled from where I’d been standing, so fast, so violent, it turned the air white.
I threw up my arms out of instinct. It didn’t matter. The blast hit a heartbeat later, hurling across the shattered tiles.
My boots skidded against the ground, and when the ringing in my ears finally dulled, I saw her.
Belle.
Standing exactly where I’d been a mont ago, one arm outstretched, her palm locked against sothing invisible. The air around her warped and scread, as if reality itself was trying to run away.
The impact point shimred, crushed light, dense and trembling. The backlash from it tore through the ground, splitting the arena in two. Pillars toppled like dice, walls caved in, dust and debris rising in a storm.
Sowhere beneath that chaos, the prince disappeared under a falling column.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself upright, vision swimming through the haze. The pressure in the air was monstrous, thicker than mana, heavier than gravity. Even from here, it pressed down on my lungs.
Whatever she was colliding with... it wasn’t sothing a normal human could see.
And she was winning.
The shockwave finally thinned enough for to see what Belle was clashing against.
At first, it was just a distortion, like heat rising off the ground. Then, the haze peeled away, and the shape took form.
A knight.
He was wrapped head to toe in armor the color of midnight steel, streaked with faint blue veins. A visor hid his face completely. And on his chest...
A mark.
A circle intertwined with several others, looping infinitely into itself, an emblem that belonged to only one organization.
My stomach went cold.
The Order of Nowhere.
Heretics. Murderers dressed as saviors.A cult of self-proclaid "heroes" who claid the world’s suffering ca from those in power—and that it was their duty to tear them down. Kings, guildmasters, nobles—anyone who ruled or protected order.
They didn’t build. They only destroyed.
Delusional fools who thought anarchy was freedom.
My mind raced. What the hell are they doing here?
Before I could answer that thought, Belle moved.
Her head turned toward slowly, too slowly. And when her gaze locked onto mine, her aura exploded outward.
The air convulsed. The entire field dimd as her death mana blanketed everything like a storm.
It washed over harmlessly cold, familiar, but the others weren’t so lucky.
Hmm others?
A faint sound behind , boots scraping stone. I turned my head just slightly.
Four more figures stood around . Sa armor. Sa insignia. Swords pressed against my neck, trembling.
Not steady. Not confident.
Terrified.
Their blades shook as the edges grazed my skin, and through the slits of their helts I could see their eyes—wide, frantic, flicking between and Belle like cornered animals.
The fear wasn’t from her alone.
It was from both of us. Why ? I had no idea.
I let my hand fall to my side, fingers brushing the hilt of my sword. The air between us tightened, heavy with the stench of death and dread.
"Easy there," I said, tilting my head slightly, feeling the edge of a sword follow the motion. "You’ll cut if you keep shaking like that."
Belle moved.
Slowly.
Her steps were soundless, but each one felt like it echoed through the bones of the world. The air warped around her, heavy enough to make the stones beneath her feet crack and bow. The closer she ca, the harder it beca to breathe, not from fear, but from pressure alone.
The four knights surrounding stiffened, the trembling in their blades turning to full-body shivers. I could hear their armor creak under the weight of her aura, the faint whimper of tal straining to hold itself together.
Belle’s eyes never left the one standing directly in front of . Her expression didn’t change. Cold. Empty. Absolute.
One of the knights finally broke. His voice ca out high and panicked, distorted by the helt.
"D-Don’t co any closer! I’ll—I’ll kill him!"
He pressed the blade harder against my throat. I didn’t move.
Belle didn’t stop either.
She just tilted her head a fraction, as if the words hadn’t even reached her. And then, without a gesture, without a whisper, her aura shifted.
The air scread.
The knight didn’t.
There was no ti for that. His armor crumpled inward with a wet crunch, like tin being crushed by an unseen hand. His body folded with it, flesh, bone, and steel collapsing into itself until there was nothing left but a sar of red vapor suspended in the air.
Even that vanished, erased, forgotten as though he’d never stood there at all.
The other three stumbled back, their swords clattering against the ground as they shook uncontrollably. One fell to his knees. Another let out a broken sob, muffled through the helt.
Belle kept walking.
Each step made the ground quake softly, a heartbeat in the earth. Her aura pressed tighter, heavier, until even I could feel the edge of it gnawing at the corners of my soul, a reminder of what true Death felt like.
The knights knew it too.
And in that mont, I saw it in their movents—panic without purpose, the kind of terror that stripped away reason.
They weren’t soldiers anymore.
They were prey.
Belle stopped right in front of .
The air around us was still trembling, thick with the lingering residue of her aura. The three remaining knights didn’t dare move; they didn’t even breathe.
Belle didn’t look at them. Not once.
Her focus was entirely on .
"Are you hurt?" she asked quietly.
Her voice was soft, almost gentle, so at odds with the monstrous pressure that had just erased a man from existence.
Before I could answer, she sank to one knee in front of , the motion slow and deliberate. Her black dress brushed the cracked stone, soaking up dirt and dust, the hem sared with mud. She didn’t seem to care.
Her hands moved with careful precision, brushing across my arms, chest, and shoulder as if checking for wounds. Cold mana humd faintly beneath her fingertips, tracing over like a scan. Her blindfold tilted slightly as she looked up at , if you could call it that.
"I said I’m fine," I replied, forcing a smirk. "It takes more than a little spatial detonation to scratch , you know."
It ca out arrogant, the way I intended.
But it didn’t fool either of us.
Because for just a second, I felt it, that flicker of warmth under her calm, the subtle relief in the way her fingers stilled once she was sure I wasn’t hurt.
And sothing about that... got to .
I wasn’t used to people checking if I was okay. In my old world, no one cared unless it benefited them.
Here, I had soone who could crush armies without blinking, kneeling in front of , dirtying a dress worth more than most people make in a year, just to make sure I was still breathing.
I looked down at her and let my grin widen. "You know," I said lightly, "you really should save that kind of concern for soone weaker. Makes look bad."
She didn’t answer, looked at , that faint, unreadable smile flickering at the edge of her lips.
Still, the thought lingered in my head.
Having soone like her at your back... it’s not just reassuring. It’s intoxicating.
The knights still hadn’t moved.And I didn’t feel the need to look at them.
I already knew how this would end.
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