Having just parted ways with Juvia, Erza was swiftly making her way through the dense forest.
Though she felt uneasy about leaving Juvia alone to face one of the Seven Kin of Purgatory, redy, Erza knew she had sothing she absolutely had to do.
The Seven Kin of Purgatory were by no ans ordinary opponents—aside from the redy she had just encountered, there were reportedly six more of them.
She couldn't allow them to rampage unchecked on Tenrou Island.
Suddenly, Erza felt sothing—her instincts flared.
She stopped in her tracks, her gaze turning serious as she looked into the distance.
Through the hazy curtain of rain, a figure slowly walked past not too far from her.
It was a young man with long, white hair cascading down to his shoulders, with only the tips on the right side dyed a faint purple.
His pale yet strikingly handso face was adorned with a pair of deep athyst-colored eyes, as if they were carved from pure crystal.
His slender fra made him seem fragile, almost delicate.
But the most unsettling thing was that, despite the torrential downpour, not a single drop of water touched him.
The falling rain seed to freeze unnaturally the mont it neared his body, defying all logic, before splitting and falling away to either side.
As she laid eyes on the young man, Erza felt an inexplicable chill wrap around her entire body.
It was a warning—one that ca not from reason, but from the instincts honed through countless battles.
This person is dangerous.
Extrely dangerous.
In an instant, Erza made her judgnt—if she wasn't careful, she would be killed in a single instant.
Without a mont of hesitation, Erza imdiately switched into her armor and raised her sword.
"You there—who are you?"
The white-haired boy seed to hear her voice, and he slowly ca to a stop.
Tilting his head slightly, his refined athyst eyes t Erza's gaze as he responded in a calm voice, "Are you... speaking to ?"
"Are you one of the Seven Kin of Purgatory from Grimoire Heart?"
"The Seven Kin of Purgatory...?" The white-haired boy paused for a mont, then lightly shook his head.
"I've heard of them, but I don't know them."
Then, he said sothing that left Erza stunned.
"You should run while you still can. If you escape now, you might have a sliver of a chance to survive. And... unless necessary, I have no interest in aningless slaughter."
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Erza imdiately felt insulted, her proud and determined face now tinged with unmistakable anger.
"Do you think saying sothing like that will make back down?"
Even in the face of Erza's fury, the white-haired boy remained calm.
"If my choice of words gave you the wrong impression, then I apologize. I didn't an to insult you. I simply dislike fighting. And... I imagine you wouldn't want to throw your life away in vain, either."
"What do you an by that?"
"This war was already decided the mont we arrived," the white-haired boy said.
"Whether demons or fairies, they will all beco sustenance for the gods. You should run while you still can—before the slaughter spreads."
With those words, he turned and prepared to leave.
"Wait!!"
Erza dashed forward, reaching out in an attempt to grab the white-haired boy.
But the mont her hand was about to touch him, an unbearable pain suddenly surged through her wrist.
The next instant, an invisible force sent her flying backward.
She crashed hard against a tree, the impact making it groan with a sharp cracking sound.
The white-haired boy, seemingly unaware that he had just struck Erza, took a few more steps forward before noticing sothing amiss.
He stopped, turned his head, and looked at her.
"Why are you so stubborn? I already warned you not to co near ."
Ignoring her injuries, Erza imdiately stood up.
A flash of light shimred around her as she switched into her Heaven's Wheel Armor, her expression serious as she stared at the boy.
"So, you really are my enemy, then? In that case, I won't hold back. State your na."
"This is exactly why I dislike humans. So stubborn, so reckless, always rushing toward death," the white-haired boy sighed, shaking his head in mild exasperation.
Then, as if coming to a decision, he said, "Fine. Everyone on this island is dood anyway. Even if you tried to escape now, your chances of survival would be almost nonexistent. So... I might as well just kill you here and now."
The once peaceful athyst eyes instantly sharpened like razor-sharp blades.
The white-haired boy's entire deanor shifted—his presence turning as cold and rciless as ice.
Just a single glance at him sent a chilling sensation down one's spine, as if being plunged into a frozen abyss.
"In the na of the Seven Thrones of the Demon God's Soul—I, Lance Crest, accept your challenge," he declared, his voice carrying an unshakable weight.
"If you have the resolve to face hell itself, then raise your blade and strike. You will only have one chance."
A crushing sense of fear surged into Erza's heart almost instantly.
Her heartbeat pounded so violently it felt as though it might burst.
Even breathing beca thick and heavy, as if the air itself had turned viscous.
A bone-chilling cold crept up her spine, and before she could even process it, her body trembled involuntarily—completely frozen in place, unable to move.
(Move, my body!!! Move now!)
Erza scread in her mind, and at last, her stiffened limbs began to respond again.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stay calm, channeling her magic into her Heaven's Wheel Armor.
Swords materialized around her, their sharp edges aid straight at Lance.
Her instincts scread—she had only one chance.
If this attack failed to put pressure on him, then the one who would die... would be her.
The storm of swords rained down upon Lance like a violent tempest.
Yet Lance didn't move.
Not a single expression crossed his face.
He remained utterly still, without any sign of magic overflowing from his body—there wasn't even a magic circle forming.
However, the mont Erza's swords neared him, an unseen force suddenly struck them, snapping them cleanly in half before they clattered to the ground.
There was no ti to stop and wonder what had happened.
In an instant, Erza had already completed another Requip, switching from Heaven's Wheel Armor to a new form—"Flight Armor."
The mont the Flight Armor was donned, Erza's speed surged dramatically.
Her footwork shifted, altering her trajectory as she rapidly closed the distance.
Twin swords glead with a dazzling arc of light as they slashed toward Lance.
And yet, Lance remained utterly unbothered, showing not even the slightest reaction—like a man watching a scene unfold before him, as if the incoming attack simply had nothing to do with him at all.
Crack.
A soft sound echoed through the air.
At the very mont Erza's twin swords were about to strike Lance, they suddenly, without warning, snapped cleanly in half—reduced to nothing more than scraps of broken steel.
"What?? Was my attack not strong enough??"
Erza's eyes narrowed slightly as she swiftly retreated a few steps.
A flash of light enveloped her as she imdiately switched armors—this ti, into Black Wing Armor.
With her jet-black wings spread wide, Erza raised her longsword, making no attempt to evade or hold back.
She charged straight at Lance, her figure transforming into a black streak of light as she lunged forward to strike.
Boom!
A sharp cry of pain escaped her lips as her body was violently rebounded—sent flying back at an even greater speed than her initial charge.
In an instant, her Black Wing Armor shattered into nothing but dust. Deep wounds appeared across her body.
(What... just happened?)
Erza desperately tried to stand, but the searing pain that wracked her body made every movent sluggish and agonizing.
She struggled to make sense of what had just occurred.
The mont she charged forward, an unknown force had struck her.
No—rather than being hit, it felt as if her own body had been forcibly driven backward by so incomprehensible power, sending her flying.
The sheer strength of this force was overwhelming—so much so that her Black Wing Armor had been destroyed in an instant, offering no resistance whatsoever.
This wasn't an external attack.
It was sothing far more unfathomable than that.
Looking at Erza, whose body was already covered in wounds, Lance's previously calm expression finally changed.
It was an expression that seed to say, "I knew this would happen, yet I still couldn't help but hold onto a sliver of hope... But in the end, nothing changed."
With undisguised disappointnt, he murmured softly, "Is this really all you're capable of?"
Erza finally managed to stand, albeit with difficulty.
She stared at Lance.
(He's strong... but... there's still a chance. If I can just figure out what his ability is... then I might still have a way to win!)
"One percent..."
Just as Erza was analyzing the situation, Lance suddenly spoke.
"What?"
Lance's voice remained soft as he said, "Just now... I was only using one percent of my power."
Erza's expression froze.
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