"One percent..."
Erza unconsciously repeated the number, staring at Lance in disbelief.
"So you're saying... you weren't even using your true strength just now?"
Lance gave a slight nod.
His indifferent expression already provided Erza with the answer.
Upon receiving his response, Erza clenched her fists tightly.
After a few seconds of silence, her expression beca resolute once again.
A flash of light shimred across her body, and in the next instant, she had switched into her Purgatory Armor, raising her jagged blade as she charged at Lance at full speed.
"If that's the case, then prove it to ! Show what you an!"
Watching Erza rush toward him, Lance let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh.
And then—
Sothing changed.
At first glance, it seed as though nothing had happened.
But that was precisely what made it so unnatural.
Even though Erza was clearly charging toward Lance, the distance between them never shortened in the slightest.
It was as if she were chasing a sun sinking into the horizon—no matter how fast she ran, she could never close the gap.
To describe it more accurately, it was as if Lance was standing in a corridor that had been infinitely stretched by an unknown force, continuously gliding backward, always just out of reach.
Lance's deep violet eyes gazed at Erza with utter indifference—his expression was like that of a god overlooking ants from the highest heavens.
That gaze—Erza had only seen it once before, in that mont from Noel.
It was the look of an absolute, insurmountable existence.
The gaze of a ruler who stood at the pinnacle, holding dominion over life and death.
That gaze alone felt like it was declaring her death sentence, making Erza instinctively want to retreat.
Her subtle movents did not escape Lance's notice.
A faint, indescribable mockery flickered in his eyes.
"How dull."
Suddenly, Erza realized—no matter how much she tried to back away, she couldn't create any distance between them.
It was an incredibly bizarre sensation.
Whether she advanced or retreated, the space between them remained completely unchanged.
Lance's lips curled slightly as he looked at the astonished Erza.
He spoke in a detached, rciless tone:
"Have you ever fought an opponent of equal strength, wagering your very life?"
"...."
The hollow voice was filled with an unfathomable emptiness.
And that emptiness sent a bone-chilling coldness through Erza's entire being.
It was as if she were being dragged into a bottomless abyss of despair—an overwhelming void so deep and dark that it seed inescapable.
Lance was still standing over ten ters away.
Yet Erza could already feel an unbearable pressure, as if a blade had been thrust between her ribs.
A suffocating sensation of despair.
"How enviable..." Lance murmured, his voice dreamlike, as if lost in a distant thought.
His violet eyes rested on Erza.
"I've never experienced it—not once... the so-called 'battle.'"
He spoke as if reminiscing, his tone eerily calm.
"Because no one has ever been able to pose a threat worthy of being called a 'fight.' Not even Tsukiyo could make feel the slightest sense of danger to my life. It's just like this—"
Lance raised his hand.
His fingers were long and pale, almost like a piece of flawless art.
Then, at a distance away from Erza, his five fingers slowly curled inward, as if crushing sothing unseen.
And softly, he whispered a single word—
"Shatter."
The mont that word fell from his lips, Erza's Purgatory Armor—without any warning—began to crack.
Tiny fissures spread across the armor's surface.
And those fractures, the instant they appeared, spread like a virus, multiplying at an uncontrollable rate until they covered the entire set of armor.
Then—
"Crack."
A crisp sound echoed through the rain.
Erza's Purgatory Armor shattered into countless fragnts, scattering into the air like broken glass.
At that mont, Erza's vision darkened.
A searing pain surged through her body, as if her internal organs were being rcilessly torn apart by an invisible force.
The unbearable agony shot straight to her brain.
A mouthful of blood burst from her lips, spilling onto the wet ground, mixing with the rain—
A tragic yet eerily beautiful sight.
Erza's legs lost all strength, and she slowly collapsed to the ground.
Her hollow eyes carried an unmistakable trace of terror.
Blood continued to trickle from the corner of her lips.
(How... is this possible...?)
The sound of footsteps echoed in her ears, growing closer and closer.
Lance had already walked up to her fallen form.
He crouched down beside her, his violet eyes gazing into hers.
After a mont of silence, he spoke softly:
"Still struggling? Why? If you just choose to lose consciousness now, it would feel a lot easier."
"What... did... you... do...?"
A weak, fragnted voice escaped from Erza's lips.
Even uttering those few words felt like an insurmountable effort.
Lance tilted his head slightly, as if mildly intrigued.
"You still haven't given up? Your tenacity is quite impressive. Asking what I did? There's no need to explain it to you. Besides, even if I did, with your level of understanding, you wouldn't be able to comprehend it anyway."
His voice remained indifferent, carrying an almost lazy detachnt.
"This is already holding back as much as possible. Next ti, you will absolutely die."
(Move... I have to move...)
Erza's body trembled as she desperately tried to force herself to move.
But no matter how hard she struggled, she simply couldn't.
The excruciating pain coursing through her body was so intense that she was on the verge of blacking out.
"Always so stubborn... every single one of you..."
Lance's gaze turned sowhat disinterested.
"I've grown utterly tired of people like you. Perhaps it's because, at our core, we are fundantally different beings. That's why I cannot understand your way of thinking. And this inability to comprehend... is precisely what I loathe."
He glanced up slightly, as if sensing the passage of ti.
"There's not much ti left. I should be going."
His voice carried a chilling finality as he continued:
"We are the buriers of the old world... the forgers of the new. The will of our Master shall bring forth a brand-new world. Anyone who dares to stand in their way—no matter who they are—will be eliminated by us, the Seven Thrones, without rcy."
"W-Wait...!"
Erza tried to call out, but before she could finish a sentence, a fresh wave of searing pain surged through her body.
She coughed violently, blood spilling from her lips once more.
Her vision blurred, her body completely drained of strength.
She could no longer move a single inch.
Lance's figure vanished into the dense forest without hesitation.
(Noel... You must stop them... You are the only one... who can...)
That was the last thought in Erza's mind before she lost consciousness.
..............
"Noel, what's wrong?" Lucy asked curiously as she noticed Noel suddenly stop in his tracks.
Noel remained silent for a few seconds before shaking his head.
"No, it's nothing. Let's keep moving. Lucy, help find a place where Master and the others can take shelter from the rain."
With that, he resud walking.
(Was that an illusion? Just now... I think I heard Erza's voice.)
As he moved forward, doubt lingered in Noel's heart.
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