The Mirror’s Mirror

"Hah... hah... ugh..."

Yumemaru remained in the center of the plaza, his legs trembling slightly as his boots sank into the auric dust on the ground.

"Ghh... kh-he..."

His right hand, numb and bloodied, clung to the hilt of Split Moon with a strength that no longer came from his muscles, but from a survival instinct that screamed in the face of death.

"Koff... ghak...!"

His breath was an irregular, agonizing whistle—a constant wheeze that filled the air with the scent of his own blood.

"Dammit..."

Before him, Sirael’s figure remained impassive; her presence was like a concrete slab crushing his shoulders.

(This... is looking very bad...)

Yumemaru watched her and, for the first time in centuries, felt the weight of despair as he realized he would be unable to defeat her.

(She is still a monster...)

In that precarious situation, he recalled their first encounter and their first duel...

(Honestly... I can't think of a way to win... But...)

In that first meeting, Yumemaru had unleashed his most sacred techniques; strikes that should have torn through the very fabric of reality.

(I cannot give in!)

However, back then, Sirael had only smiled, filled with excitement and a manic curiosity; she let the blades cut her skin just to understand their trajectory, laughing as the blood spurted out, as if it were the best thing in the world.

(I must buy time...)

Back then, experiencing the pain was enough for her to learn the logic behind every slash. After a few minutes, she learned by imitating Yumemaru’s movements with overflowing emotion, enhancing them with a raw strength born of her anomalous nature.

(I must buy as much time as I can!)

But the most terrifying part was that she didn't seek victory; instead, she only sought to learn and enjoy the thrill of battle.

"Yes, yes, yes! That look is the best!"

Sirael increased her level as she fought because she devoured the martial knowledge of her opponents with the enthusiasm of an infant learning to read—adapting and clashing against her adversary in a deadly dance, just so the "game" wouldn't end too quickly.

"Have they ever told you that you are a monster...?"

That was why fighting her was like trying to stop a hurricane that laughed while it tore off your arms just to observe what was inside.

"Hey, hey!"

As if responding to Yumemaru’s direct question, Sirael tilted her head, and her ocean-blue eye sparkled with a spark of childish enthusiasm at the sight of the killing intent emanating from her opponent.

"You can still move, right?! That last technique you used was amazing! Teach me more! Let me see how that strike feels again! Don't die yet, please, please! I'm only just starting to have fun, and there are still so many things I want to learn from your sword before you break completely!"

In response to that exalted declaration of excitement...

"Dammit!"

Yumemaru roared with a raspy voice, tearing through the air filled with determination.

"If you want a show, I'll give you one!"

And with a fury born of desperation, Yumemaru flung his body forward.

"Mangetsu!"

At his words, Split Moon ignited with a silvery glow, tracing a deadly arc aimed at the neck of his young opponent.

"Yessssss!"

Sirael responded with a manic smile, her eyes shining with feverish excitement as she summoned her silver sword. It rose to intercept the blow, as she pushed off the ground with absurd force, closing the distance in a blink.

(¡¡¡KRRR-KRAAAASH!!!)

Their collision caused a deafening clash that resonated throughout the plaza, generating a shockwave of raw force that made the air vibrate, sending debris and dust flying everywhere.

(¡¡¡SHING-CLANG-SHIN-CLANG-SHING!!!)

But there was no pause. At the instant of collision, both warriors bounced off one another, propelling themselves forward again with dizzying speed, thus beginning their dance.

(TZIN! SHING!)

Yumemaru, wounded and exhausted, moved with the fluidity of a specter; his sword wove a silver web with every one of his slashes, attacking with millimetric precision, seeking the weak points in the armor and trying to compensate for his physical disadvantage with millennia of experience.

"Schhh... ffff...!"

His body was a whirlwind of defenses and counterattacks, dodging Sirael’s strikes by a fraction of a millimeter while the wind from her attacks disarrayed his platinum hair.

(CLANG! TZIN! SHING! SHING! K-CHAK! FWOO-SHIN! CLANG! CLING! SHING! KRR-SHAK!)

On the other hand, however, Sirael continued to learn at a speed that defied logic.

"Ahahahahahahaha!!"

With every exchange, Sirael’s movements became more fluid, more elegant, more... refined.

"I love this!!"

What at first seemed like a playful slash, in the next second transformed into a thrust of surgical precision that Yumemaru barely managed to deflect.

"Heh... Heh-heh... Hahajahaha! HAA-HAHAHAHAHA!"

The girl’s laughter, clear and melodious like that of a child at play, contrasted eerily with the technical sophistication she was demonstrating.

"K-hahahahaha! Gyahahahaha!!"

Her feet barely touched the ground, moving in deadly ballet steps that left Yumemaru with no angles to attack.

(CLANG! SHIN-SHIN-SHING! KRA-TAK! CLING! FWOOSH! SHAAK! CLANG! CLANG! BOOM! TZIN! KRRRR-SHAK! SHING! SHING! BANG! CLANG!)

In this manner, the battle swept across the plaza at dizzying speed.

"Tsk!"

Yumemaru unleashed high-level techniques, but Sirael absorbed them with a single look.

(TZING!!)

By the second clash, she had already corrected Yumemaru’s posture, executing the same move with superior efficiency, eliminating any unnecessary motion.

"MORE, MORE, LET’S FIGHT SO MUCH MORE!!"

It was as if she were sculpting a perfect combat form, using Yumemaru as her block of marble.

(CRACK-K-BOOM-SHING-CLANG-CLANG!!!)

In an instant, Yumemaru seized a breath of an opening to lunge with a thrust at Sirael's face.

"Oooh! That was exciting!"

Unfortunately, she reacted by tilting her head at just the right angle so that the blade only opened a thin line across her cheek.

"I see how the angle works now! Look, look! Is this how it's done? No, this way is better!"

Upon feeling the blood, her smile widened, but her technique did not crumble; on the contrary, it became even more polished as her sword traced an arc of pure silver in a movement so perfect it seemed like a law of nature.

(SLASH!!)

Despite that, however, Yumemaru was able to avoid it, feeling his heart race.

(DAMN IT!!)

Sirael wasn't hitting him with raw strength; she was attacking him with a version of his own technique that was deadlier, faster, and more refined than anything he had ever achieved in centuries of training.

(CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!!!)

Every time their blades collided, Yumemaru felt the weight of death grow denser.

(At this rate...)

His feet retreated as both moved across the structure of the clock tower where they were now clashing.

(She will kill me in less than two minutes!)

Stone and giant gears collapsed beneath them, disintegrating into a rain of debris as their plunging attacks turned the air into a void of sparks and metal.

(I can't allow it...!)

But what truly chilled his blood was not his own death, but what would come after.

(Shija is not yet ready for this kind of madness.)

He looked at Sirael’s manic laughter and understood that once he broke, she would seek a new "toy."

(In order to persevere!)

Then, Yumemaru closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, concentrating every fiber of his being.

(To fulfill my duty...!!)

There was only one way out...

(I must... EVOLVE!!)

If she was using his style as a textbook, he would do the same.

(SHING!!!)

He had before him the finest example of martial perfection that this lunatic world could offer.

(CLANG!!)

Their swords clashed once more atop a beam falling into the void.

"If you're going to use my sword for your fun, then I'll use yours to survive!"

Yumemaru did not back down. His eyes flashed with a savage determination that, for a moment, matched the girl's madness.

"I am going to devour every single one of your moves!"

In that instant, Yumemaru’s stance shifted.

"You're going to devour?!"

His style, once orthodox and ancient, began to distort, integrating Sirael’s impossible angles and supernatural refinement.

"That's the spirit!!"

He was no longer fighting against her; he was fighting like her, stealing the fluidity of her steps and the elegance of her thrusts.

"Hajajajaja! HAA-HAHAHAHAHA!"

The hunter was becoming the mirror’s mirror, initiating a spiral of mutual learning where whoever stopped evolving first would simply cease to exist.