35

"Why did you never run away?"

"The consequences of my own actions." Tanya shifts, looking at the ceiling. "But mainly... resources. Civilization. Does peace really count if you don't get to enjoy the fruits of your labor? I couldn't hole up somewhere and become a hermit. Not an option."

"But it is now, isn't it?" Shuna straddles her waist and leans down, her face hovering just above Tanya's own.

"Hm?"

"You have the option, right? Those resources... power... civilization..." Shuna cups Tanya's face. "There's no need to fight anymore. We can put that behind us. We could run away, you know."

Tanya reaches up, pressing her comparatively rougher palm against her lover's cheek. "...do you want to run away so badly?"

Shuna leans into the touch, eyes closing.

"Not alone."

-=-

"Here."

Warmth traces along the tops of Shuna's arms. Slightly larger, slightly rougher hands overlay her own, brushing along, tugging quietly. Tanya is close, her warm breath tracing Shuna's skin.

"Kyūdō is more my area of expertise, admittedly. I was captain of my- well, that's not important."

It is important. To me.

Shuna thinks this, but tucks it away for now, remaining quiet, attentive.

"But then, the art isn't exclusive. It's simply a matter of translating the mentality onto another form." Her hands shift Shuna's into a better position. "Now, here. Brace. Feel that? Now, pull. Not too quickly. Breathe."

Tanya adjusts where necessary, then backs away, her warmth disappearing as well. Shuna smothers the spark of disappointment at that, smoothly holding onto the drawstring.

"Be in line with your target. Feel the weight of the bow, the heft of the arrow. Adjust for distance, focus small, and… sha. Or rather, shoot."

Shuna releases.

A burst of wind circles her shot, her arrow. Even as a princess and generally nonfighter, her physical strength is nothing to scoff at. And magic helps.

That being said…

Her arrows thunks into the target. Closer to the edge than the center, by a long shot.

"Good shot."

Shuna sighs, bemused. "It was a terrible shot."

"You hit the target this time, but you missed last time. That means you improved." Tanya nods. She steps closer, closer than expected actually, and tilts Shuna's face up with a finger under her chin. "I'll take advantage of that fact." She leans down, her lips lightly brushing Shuna's. They linger, for a heart stopping moment, then pull away. "If you'd prefer, I will appropriately reward subsequent… improvements, as well."

Shuna became one of the best archers in the Jura Tempest Federation within weeks.

-=-

"I've always looked after myself. That's how it's always been. It's not bravery to protect yourself, it's just common sense."

"Do you call this…" Shuna leans forward, her finger just barely tilting her lover's chin for a kiss. They fit together perfectly; she doesn't want to pull away. "…looking after yourself?"

"… no, I…" Uncharacteristically, Tanya is caught off guard. "I don't think…"

"Then don't think." Shuna kisses her, then kisses her again. Again and again, until they're breathless. "I never met this selfish person. I only know you."

-=-

"So? Is that a no?"

"Your bedroom talk needs work." Tanya sighs, rolling on her back, putting her hands behind her head, and staring at the ceiling.

Shuna rolls as well, to her side.

"...I don't know." Tanya admits, as if confessing. "Rarely did any of us actually die. That idiot. That sort of sentimentality has no place on the battlefield."

"Did you dislike him?"

"Not at all. But, I'd like to think he was smart enough to do anything better than some self-sacrificial nonsense." Tanya scoffs, though there is no heat behind it. "Throwing your life away, and for what? There were better options. There had to be."

"I don't imagine he was thinking." Shuna trails her fingertips lightly across Tanya's arm, tracing the space between bicep and tricep. "Had no reason at all..."

Tanya is quiet. Then, almost as if Shuna imagined it, she murmurs, "…He must have been terrified."

"Hm?" Shuna glances up at her face.

"Hm." Tanya allows her to touch for a moment longer, before rolling over, until she was atop Shuna once more. "Enough."

"Oh?" Shuna smiles, and she feels Tanya shift at her tone. "And how will you stop me?"

-=-

"I don't want to lead. I'm done with that. Any desire to tell others what to do has… I don't want to control anything. Except my life. This life."

Tanya closes her eyes, her voice slowly growing more and more faint.

"All I wanted for the longest time was… this… peaceful life."

-=-

"Well, if you were ever so insistent on putting yourself in harm's way… I'd just have to save you, wouldn't I?"

-=-

"Shuna..." Tanya leans over, one hand supporting her on the futon, boxing in her lover below. "You're..."

Horns, cheeks, hair... they're all so beautiful. She is so beautiful now, in this moment. And in the next, and the next. This is real. This is-

"...beautiful." Her thumb caresses Shuna's cheek, drawing a line of fire along the flushed skin. The pink Kijin meets her warm gaze, arms stretched above her head. "Your eyes are very pretty. More than jewels or stars. I..."

She wants to say it. She can't say it. 

Shuna, body and soul bared fully, looks up at her beloved and smiles. A wanting, heady smile. Flush covers her cheeks, and ears, and her collarbone is splotched with desire.

"Do you want..." Shuna huffs a quiet, breathless laugh. She tilts her head, and oh, Tanya wants to say it so badly. She wants her to know. She wants her more than anything. "...your future child to have them, too?"

.

.

.

.

.

Tell me… were those memories precious to you, too?

-=-=-=-

The truth of the matter is this: Octavius had been a juggernaut. Capable of regeneration not just magically, but physically through his own blood manipulation, his power drew both on his Demon Lord Seed's strength and his inability to die easily. Such a battle could only last a long time.

But in relatively ordinary circumstances, battles did not occur over glorious lengths of time.

Contrary to popular belief, a battle between two knights, or peasants, or soldiers, often ends within one of two strikes. A fist fight, only a few seconds.

Yet, at the highest possible level and outside what would be described as "human", this is rarely the case. Regeneration, supernatural reflexes, literal resurrection, high level magical barriers, magical enhancements and reinforcements against all but the most devastating blows.

It goes without saying that these are far from "relatively ordinary" circumstances. If there are any.

From the outside, there is little to be seen.

The sounds of cutting wind, snapping, and cracking pavement, crunching. To blurs move in sync, against each other. A rolling maelstrom, great swells of power rising, falling, crashing crushing crashing-

Flashing spots of fiery light, of clustered steel and golden steel smashing across one another, ripping atomic pieces free and sizzling in the air.

Tanya and Drake appear, for a moment, then they blur, and clash again and again. Spinning, twisting, stabbing. It is tug of war. Push and pull.

Drake advances, thrusting, spearing. Tanya retreats, slashing, deflecting. He stabs forward with two hands; if she stays near the point, he will carve her open. If she steps too far away, he gains.

But, if he overextends, he dies. Drake does not overextend. He does not move into her space. He maintains his distance, and she maintains hers.

Tanya advances, and he calmly retreats. Reversal. The cycle continues.

Naturally, this is all happening much faster than mere words on a page can describe.

If Octavius was a juggernaut, then Drake is an assassin. He is swift where Octavius was brutish, a smooth stream against roaring rapids, David's stone to Sodom's meteor.

In this sense, he is a far better match for her. He flows, and his moves are not telegraphed so much as they move from one to the other, a constant rhythm without obvious tells like movement hitches or twitching muscles.

Drake slashes low, forcing her to dance out of range or be bisected by his follow up vertical cut. He advances in the open space, left hand placed firmly several hand widths below the spear point, making use of the handle to protect his torso from any of her counterattacks.

Tanya meets him halfway, darting low and cutting at his knees. Drake pulls back, deflecting, and she steps, half a dash, her blade following him, wrenched from the pavement into a diagonal arc upward.

CLASH!

Sparks fly. Drake steps back, readjusts, then stabs forward. Tanya retreats back a step, swiping up defensively and scorching the air with yet more metallic cinders.

Drake pulls back as well.

He is not telegraphed, like Octavius, but he has patterns.

Tanya is not flowing but rather in alternating flux. Shifting, observing, attacking, retreating. She is not naturally gifted, as a prodigy, but rather recognizes the world on a fundamental level and applies herself in ways that may in fact seem prodigious. It is not genetic talent or lucky brain wiring that rose her to new heights, but rather cumulative experience, consistent hard work, a capacity to learn and a willingness to apply that learning everywhere.

Remember this: Tanya von Degurechaff earned her Silver Wings Assault Medal before acquiring the Type 95. A world before that, she had been next in line for the Head of Human Resources at a very large, very successful modern company, despite being several decades younger than the other departmental Heads.

Tanya had once lamented the inherent unfairness of the world, and then she immediately worked to undermine that fairness for her own advancement. Sneer at the guidelines despite being bound by them. Who cares if your classmate wins a mathlete competition? Who cares if they have higher test scores?

Make your own advantages. Let others settle for greatness.

Move forward, ever forward. Strive to be superior in your own way.

Early on in her blood-soaked second career, she'd observed that the best option in combat was to end it before it could begin. If she blitzed her opponents, set the pace of the fight so ungodly high that only she could react, then there was no danger at all. Then, when her opponents grew smarter, and warier, and more powerful, Tanya became trickier. Illusions, unavoidable attacks, forced collateral, physics and physical strain from altitude.

No matter what, I am better than the person in front of me. And if not, I will be.

…is the idea, at least.

Because that's what it takes. Because that's what she needs to be. 

Drake lunges, his spear piercing. Tanya steps back, another stab tracking her like a bloodhound. Tanya ducks into his guard, only to sidestep and dance back as he spun his spear, butt-end carving a gash where she'd previously been.

Another lunge, she slashes up, deflects, steps back, stab, a downward cut, swipe, duck, stab, sparks and scorching steel. Again and again. 

They are the waves in the storm. Rather, they are the storm.

Tanya retreats, and Drake follows.

Tanya advances, and Drake fills the space, forcing her to retreat again.

The problem is range and skill. His spear keeps her at a distance, and her lack of skill with a katana prevents her from creating and attacking the angles and openings she is used to.

Her options, then, are to sacrifice the extra range offered by Hakurou's blade and swap to her combat knives, thereby closing the skill gap, or to continue using the katana and wait for an opening that doesn't seem to be coming.

Still, she can't help but feel... no, not feel, but logically, he should have more. There's no way he came here for a simple brawl. Too much is at stake here, and he's certainly put in too much effort for such simplicity. The next logical assumption, then, is he doesn't want to use whatever is up his sleeve. Whether from pride or fear, it doesn't really matter. 

She just has to find an opening before he gets frustrated enough to play his true hand. In this case, her choice is obvious, really.

Play to her own strengths. 

Tanya fills her lungs, holds her breath, and waits.

Drake spins his spear, bringing it around in an upward slash. It rips apart the air, the wind ruffling her bangs. 

As before, he spaces his attack so only the tip is near her, leaving himself just enough room to react aggressively or defensively.

If she moves to the left, his right, he slashes down, or bashes with the shaft. If she goes forward, into his guard, he brings the handle down and shoves. If she goes to his left, he spins to face her, cutting down and retreating.

Tanya quicksteps to his left, then steps back.

Drake cuts, moving back.

As soon as his foot leaves the ground, Tanya strikes. Like a javelin, she snaps Hakurou's katana in his direction, dashing as soon as it leaves her hand.

Eyes widening, Drake yanks his head to the side, the blade missing his cheek but the wind of it cutting him all the same. Behind him, Hakurou's katana buries itself halfway to the hilt in the wooden support beam of a burning storefront's awning.

"You fucking-!" Drake grunts, then cuts himself off, flipping his spear horizontally and bashing it into Tanya's chest, her knife close enough to make him go cross-eyed. Instead of flinching, Tanya takes the hit, one arm wrapping around his spear.

Unable to reach him, and lacking the leverage to force him back before he could escape, she kicks out straight, knocking the air from his lungs and the spear from his hands as he jerks backward, crashing through that same support beam into the inferno of storefront itself.

Tanya stumbles, golden spear glinting poisonously in the firelight. Without hesitating, she whips her arm up, tossing it above her.

A blink later, Drake slams into the ground, right where she'd previously been standing.

Shock paints his face, able to react only enough to recognize what had happened.

Tanya knew about his teleportation. She's-

Right behind me.

He spins, desperately slicing at the air, but he only catches the tip of her ponytail on his blade. She darts in, and he forces his arms down, trying to smash her into the pavement.

"Argh!"

In between the barest gap, the bare minimum space he'd allowed her, she strikes. She dodges inside, underneath, slipping past him and slicing his side in the same motion. The tan, sleeveless tunic hugging him rips open, splotches of crimson and a sizzling purple staining his side.

Her knife sizzles with the same colors.

One step, two steps, she's behind him again, knife raised underhanded, ready to stab backwards, sever his spine.

Tanya flexes her abdominals, rotating and stabbing down-

"CAWWW!!!"

Her knife sinks into something firm, but bouncy. Like ballistic gelatin.

The bird!

It crows at her fiercely, the massive bird-like creature forming from the shadows along Drake's underarms. Her knife glints along slimy, slithering shadows, buried to the hilt in its glinting, feathered chest.

In the space her knife stopping and the lack of death from either the creature or Drake himself, Tanya attempts to force her knife through the rest of the creature, into Drake's spine.

But by then it's too late. The lapse has cost her.

Drake falls forward and spins on a heel, whirling with his spear.

Tanya yanks her knife free and drops back, the razor-sharp tip just a hair's width away from the bridge of her nose.

"Enough!" Drake snarls, a golden disaster gouging the air. The metallic blur in his hands hums, and Tanya can taste what's coming.

It is thunder and lightning, how he crashes down on her. The ground cracks, wind shunts away like bats out of hell.

He crashes again, and again, and again. In the spaces between these, that crow or raven – or whatever bird-like creature it could claim to be called – swooped in, clawing and beating desperate wings.

He puts her on the defensive and keeps her there.

She is faster, and stronger. It is because she is faster and stronger that she is still alive, despite his onslaught. Fighting against a Demon Lord Seed level individual and his modified Lesser Spirit with nothing more than a combat knife, while forced to fight off the effects of two barriers… yet here we are.

Tanya's chest burns. Her expression twists in silent irritation, reopening the cut on her cheek, and she forces herself to move faster. Her knife is a blur, chipping away and playing championship level defense. It should win an award.

She has other knives, of course, but now isn't exactly the time to-

"SCRAAAW!"

That goddamn fucking-

The bird – a hawk? – dives yet again, clawing at her face. She ducks, then bends awkwardly on her heels, narrowly avoiding being skewered through her eye socket. Her hand latches onto the handle, just underneath the spear point. Drake yanks on his spear, dragging her up.

He lashes out with a boot, and Tanya lets go, taking the attack straight on and letting it launch her back, pushing off at the same time. She needs space, and in his fury, he is all too happy to create it.

To his own detriment. Because in the space between one attack and the next…

"CRAWWW!"

The damn thing is perfectly content to attack in spurts, in between waves of nonstop motion.

It's likely it can't keep up with the two of them, so it waits. Or it's been ordered to fill in space. The capability or lack thereof for autonomous thought in the creature is not a primary concern.

Tanya lands on her feet and slides back, just in time for the damn thing to catch up to her, Drake trailing several meters behind.

Finally.

Before Drake can reach them, Tanya blurs. Swapping her knife to an overhanded grip, she slashes diagonal, a metallic arc carving through the bird's claws. Then, her other hand shoots up, snatching it out of midair by the neck.

Tetra Breaker: Extension.

Across the Spirit's body, a grid pattern of glowing teal alights. Tanya tightens her grip further and further, until, with one last startled crow, it disintegrates into energy, shifting multicolored particles absorbing into her palm.

I can use this.

Across from her, Drake stops.

In fact, they both pause here, each catching their breath. Each, taking a moment. To think, to observe. They are remarkably similar, aren't they?

What a pain! They think at the same time, with mutual looks of disgust and irritation. Tanya's with the situation, and Drake's with himself.

Drake grips his side, roughly squeezing until bleeding stops.

She's too quick with those knives. Skill… equal? She outmatches me in strength, speed, reflexes. Her acceleration, I've never seen anything like it. She surpasses Octavius by a great margin. Can she go higher? How much is she holding back? Or rather, what else is up her sleeve? More knives, for certain. She's smart, resourceful, avoids unnecessary movement. Her attacks are always aimed to kill, and her superior speed forces me to dedicate my attention to all of them. But that's only in a fair fight. I've only warped once. Astel is still hidden. She's clearly affected by the barriers.

He calms down, breathing evening out.

As long as I keep her in my range and out of her own, nothing she does matters.

"If only you'd joined Scylla back then. Even under these circumstances, you're still alive." Drake settles into a low stance, golden spear along his arms, hands under its head and near its end respectively. He's tense, but in the way of a coiled spring, brimming with potential energy. "But what's done is done. I will kill you. Then, I will raze everything you've worked for to the ground, until nothing beside remains."

On the wind, the smell of smoke carries to them. Flames crackle, though quietly, as if a captive audience.

…No. Tanya's expression darkens, her eyes flashing uncharacteristically.

"…I hate to admit this, but you've pissed me off." She hates it. She hates this. It's too unfamiliar. It's too important. Her heart is pounding, beating, burning. "Let me engrain this into your fucking skull."

The smart decision would be to run. To step away from a disadvantaged situation, to prioritize herself as she always had. That's what the salaryman believed. That's what Tanya von Degurechaff would do. Be selfish. Look after yourself. 

"You have every right to kill me. Come and kill me, Drake of Scylla! But as long as you're a threat to my home-"

Survive. More than anything, survive.

As long as it takes.

Her eyes spark, magnetic, electric teal. Something cracks out of frame, not physical but spacial. At the base of her neck, near between her shoulder blades, a thrum of power trickles warmth into her chest.

"I'm not going to die!"

-=-=-=-

The city burns in spurts. The only sound is the crackle and pop of spark and flame, the crashing of wood and metal into obstructing heaps.

It seems, in lieu of mortal damage, those great, righteous, human knights turned to property damage. Loss of home, of commerce, of orderly convenience and modern comfort.

It's petty. It's horrific.

But it could be worse.

It could still be worse.

The shelters are packed full. To the brim, bursting at the seams, it seems. But intact. Full of life. The assembly hall is much the same, though more desperately aligned. The worst of the injured, a thankfully small but still painful number, are here, having limped or been carried however possible.

Haruna, and her Goblina assistants, along with the dwarf Garm and the dryad sisters Trya and Doreth, work with haste. The first group does their best distributing the small stock of potions kept within the Hall or towels, bandages, and further to soothe and calm. In the worst cases, such as those with space-attribute magic infecting the wound, the dryads prevent deadly blood loss, whilst Garm stitches them shut best he can.

This impromptu infirmary tries their hardest under such extenuating circumstances.

As it is, they are missing key solutions to their problems. Hakurou, Gobta, Gobzo need constant, intensive care. Not even Shuna's great healing prowess – albeit, limited heavily by the barriers overhead – could revert their injuries. 

Without intervention from a greater power, they would die within a week.

Rimuru could save them. But he isn't here right now.

Tanya almost certainly could save them. But she can't be here right now.

They would die within a week without Rimuru or Tanya's intervention. But they would die today if Tanya were not elsewhere, bearing the city's burden alone.

It hurts. There's nothing more that can be done within the Assembly Hall, other than work, wait, hope.

Just try to stop me.

A pink and blue blur darts through cindered alleyways. Borrowed boots pound the cobbled street, maroon hakama fabric shifting and protecting from scalding debris. A silvery metal glints in a crescent over her back, brief flashes of blue and green fabric underneath shadowed by the flames and smoke.

Me? What about you?

A wooden beam falls from the half-ash husk of a building on her left. She ducks under it, reaching to steady the quiver at her hip.

"Do you think risking your own life for someone else's makes everything okay?"

Of course, Tanya doesn't have a savior complex. They both know that. Shuna only said that back then out of anger. Out of rightful concern.

At her core, Tanya von Degurechaff is a rational, logic-based individual. She hates religion, tolerates the childish antics of some of her coworkers, loves tasty food, enjoys working out and sex. These are all reasonable qualities to have for a relatively ordinary, peaceful life. Her main goal in her previous life was to enjoy such a peaceful life away from the machinations of a god-like figure.

"If you were ever so intent on putting yourself in harm's way…"

She's very open about her approach to life, and her approach to achieving such a life. Tanya cared about her own state of affairs first, and the affairs of others would always be secondary to herself. A selfish, though not inherently wrong, point of view. She would always look after herself, and prioritize her own self, her own survival, her future, before anyone or anything else.

From the moment Tanya arrived in Tempest, it's never been a problem. As long as Tanya's goals aligned with Tempest, both sides would greatly benefit from each other's own ways of thinking. Tanya would always work for the betterment of Tempest, because in turn it would better her own status.

That's common sense.

"I knew enough about the situation, and I knew there wouldn't be any issue! Why would I risk my own life without thought?"

That's the problem.

I know that! I know you weighed your options, debated the pros and cons, checked the cost-benefit… that's exactly why I'm worried!

Shuna stumbles, hot fire pulsing in her chest. Maintaining her existence is simple enough, even in a Prison Field. But expending energy outside of that is different. Just running a couple city blocks is labor intensive, far more than before.

Tanya is the least affected by the barriers. That's true.

But how long has she been out here? What exactly has she been putting herself through?

It's this thought that spurs her on. Shuna keeps moving, ignoring the scratchy ache along her throat, a weakness similar to hunger yet everywhere all at once.

I can't just stand there and watch you-!

Because Tanya doesn't need to achieve anything anymore. She made it. There's no meddling god here. She reached her goal, with a prestigious position in a powerful nation, more genuine friends than ever before, a lover that might as well be her future wife-

When someone who's accustomed to merely surviving for herself finally learns what it feels like to live, to love…

Shuna's knees hit the pavement, and she snarls, furious with herself for the weakness, even while one of her lungs attempts to jump out of her throat. One hand braces against the ground, the other covering her wretched coughing.

…huh…?

After several heart-stopping seconds, the coughing fit fades to a mere irritation. Shuna pushes herself to her feet, looks up with a steely glint to her eye, and continues running.

…are they getting closer to…?

-=-=-=-

It is unfortunate that Drake is not an idiot, like Nin Gen or Octavius Valentin. Neither of those two utilized their abilities to the utmost, whether out of lack of practice or disuse from age.

That golden spear rockets towards her.

Tanya tilts her body, letting it fly past, then spins in the other direction, underhanded knife stabbing out behind her.

Drake stops her wrist with the shaft of his spear, flesh and bone smashing into magisteel. His arms shudder violently, and her wrist creaks, and both of their expressions twist painfully.

They disengage, then reengage, their movements a blur as Tanya stabs, cuts, moves closer, and Drake deflects, dodges, keeps her away. He spins his spear, deadly gold in the air, and his movements hesitate, as if off balance.

Tanya forces herself to back up, avoid the bait.

He is not predictable. But she is learning his style. All of it.

Though, if she could just get her hands on that spear again, Tetra Breaker should be able to nullify-

Drake steps and thrusts up that shining point at her throat, and Tanya steps to her left, her body on the opposite side of the spear's shaft than his. And then, in less than the blink of an eye and a faint flash along the edge of her senses, he's on the same side, one hand holding his spear and the other on a beeline for her face.

Tanya blocks it with her forearm, letting it force her back.

Right. Teleportation.

It's not just that Drake can teleport to his spear. It's that he can teleport to any point and angle along his spear, from the tip of the spearpoint to the rounded pommel at its end.

The cut on her cheek from earlier, now reaching across her cheekbone now and trailing blood down her jawline, is evidence of this. As are the multiple sour spots across her forearms.

Enhancement and reinforcement are great and all, but at some point, your body starts to give in. Maybe the first couple didn't hurt, but now?

Everyone else gets the OP shit.

Worse though, and a major contributing factor, is that…

His spear has the spatial attribute. Tanya glares, trying to ignore the blaze building in her chest. Just like that boy's Unique Skill. I have enough Full Potion in my hip flask to heal anything one time, but it's not the amount that's the problem. I don't have any time…

Tetra Breaker should be able to dissipate the spatial effect, but that would require a level of mental concentration she can't afford right now.

No, she can definitely do it, just like she broke down one of his corrupted spirits, and just like she will disrupt whatever spirit-based magic in his spear allowed him to teleport. The problem really is time. It would take more than a second, and at this level a single second can be a very long time.

Right now, Tetra Breaker is only effective inside my body… or whatever I'm touching, if I touch it long enough. That leaves me with reinforcement, enhancement, pain-nullification formulae... fucking nothing, basically. I could boost my hormone production, would have killed for that two worlds ago… fantastic.

Never has Tanya faced a foe this skilled in his craft.

Ironically, one of the closest comparisons is of a man with the last name of Drake in her previous world. But the current Drake dwarfs even that man's ability with the rifle and bayonet.

If she were on onlooker, rather than at the pointy end, she'd marvel at it. Tanya is far from a weapons enthusiast. But it would be impossible to observe such fantastic skill without some level of appreciative shock and awe.

It is the depth of his technique. The singular track of his spear carving through the air, always taking the bare minimum distance necessary. The pure mastery of a simplistic form, with little to no unnecessary flourishes. It is less a style of attack and more a ruthless one-track killing kata, with every movement utilized with fatal intent.

Indeed... the most dangerous part is not the spear itself, but the man behind it. The intent, the singular focus, the mastery of mindfulness and focus on her and only her.

But that spear…

Tanya is faster, and stronger, and her reflexes and instincts surpass his by a near insurmountable margin.

On a regular day, under ordinary circumstances, she would defeat him. Of this there can be no doubt.

But there is no doubt in her mind that he is better, in this instance. In the months separating their last encounter and now, he has handily surpassed the level of Octavius.

A great improvement, but she had been at Octavius's level back then. Even taking into consideration Drake's clearly absurd training regimen, the benefit of the absorbed Demon Lord Seed and the evolution of her Skill set Tanya's level well above his. It shouldn't matter how much better he's gotten.

These are not ordinary circumstances. Not even close.

Why is it so hard to-?

Something dark in the back of her mind whispers, you know why...

A flurry of thrusts like a downpour. Tanya is a blur just the same. Her knife clashes, scraping, marking the gaps, her blade dulling his own. Her chest still burns.

He's smart. His footwork is immaculate. Tanya can't help but respect his discipline, even in this scenario. No thrust is too powerful. Not once does he overextend. Combined with teleportation, range, and this odd weight on her shoulders and lungs-

He steps in, underhand thrust to her chest. Dodge. Can't counterattack.

He pulls his right foot back, and his spear, then thrusts again, overhanded.

Sparks sizzling in slow motion. Deflection. Gain distance. Try to catch your breath.

His arms remain flexed, not fully extending, putting pressure on her without sacrificing ground.

Tanya moves under a thrust, trying to sneak under his guard. He backsteps immediately, and Tanya is forced away as he brings the shaft of his spear down. Again.

They are back to zero. Stuck in a rhythm.

Something has to change.

Deflect. Quicken. Crash. Blurs of magisteel and form.

What can change? He has her in a corner, with every advantage on his side, and he's playing to these advantages to the best of his ability. It's only her superior physical ability that has kept her alive so far.

Well, not only that.

It's only natural, but…

Tanya's not been an idle combatant, either.

That one. Step, hands shift, then-

She dodges, quicker than before.

Force him into a rhythm of her own choosing. Give him expectations.

He has every advantage, it seems.

He'll thrust-

There!

Tanya preempts it, quickstepping into range. Drake tries to adjust, and nearly succeeds. The tip of his spear slices her cheek, the left side of her face now a bloody X before-

She's inside his guard.

Next, he'll-

Instead of taking another step, Tanya drops her knife, then reaches up with both hands.

The shaft of the spear comes to an abrupt halt, slamming into her palms. Before Drake can pull away, she's holding on tighter than he ever could, and yanking.

They're practically intertwined now. Close range, breath to breath, and this is exactly to Tanya's advantage. She rips her arms up, and back, and at the same time slams her boot into Drake's ribs.

There's a crack, and he hunches over, spear torn from his hands.

Tanya has the spear. Drake can teleport to it at any time, at any angle. It's hardly an advantage.

You thought I wouldn't notice, but I did.

But he won't do that. Not immediately, not with a cracked rib, not while his brain is briefly – for barely more than a second, really – overwhelmed by pain. There's a short moment between registering the situation, choosing what to do, and acting on it. It's not instinctual.

Tetra Breaker!

In this briefest of windows, Tanya acts. She splits her focus, one hand going to her belt, and the other glowing teal just under the skin, reflecting against and infecting that poisonous golden magisteel.

Half a second.

Underhanded, in slow motion and as if on autopilot, she throws one of her knives. Drake's back foot hits the ground, steadying himself. His jaw is clenched, pain fading, recognition dawning on his face.

One second.

There's a connection between Drake and his spear, like a tendril. Spirit magic. Space-attribute. Of course.

Tetra Breaker breaks down the energy into numbers for her, the magic becoming formulaic in structure, and thus understandable. Manipulatable. She recognizes the connection, sees the form it takes, how its energy connects and intertwines in a very particular twist of reality.

In a sense, it's similar to an aspect of Mary's Unique Skill, though Tanya's manipulation of energy is limited. Whereas Mary can manipulate, categorize, and forcibly shut down the powers of others with her own Unique energy, Tanya must actually manipulate the energy with her own, be it magicules or aura or otherwise. The latter of which she couldn't normally use, and the former of which could not reach outside her body in this situation.

Just great.

At another time, Tanya might note that Tetra Breaker's analytical ability actually surpasses what she'd already expected and tested. Then, she'd further recognize and understand her own odd proficiency with space-attribute magic. A proficiency that allowed her to create a pocket dimension similar to one Rimuru Tempest's with nothing more than a glance, a conversation, and a couple days of magical experimentation.

How interesting.

Right now, Tanya focuses on the connection between this spear and Drake, a spirit magic tendril that rested just under the fabric of ordinary reality. They're too intertwined to unravel completely, the magic- no, not the magicules, the spiritrons far too ingrained. In the approximately two seconds before Drake can react and teleport to stop her, Tanya only has time to fudge the numbers a bit.

Taking too long-!

Her own magical energy, only usable in this manner thanks to direct contact between herself and the spear preventing any leakage, pours through the gaps. Like glue filling in the joints, preventing-

Around her on the paved road, a smoky teal and black ring of energy burns into existence.

Tanya's eyes widen.

BRRRRRM!

The earth cracks, then craters. The street falls silent, except for the crackle of flames in the distance and the hum of something electrical, popping sparks on the smoky air.

Drake coughs, reaching up from his now uninjured ribs. He runs his hand across his mouth roughly, then looks at it, a red smear covering his calloused palm.

"I won't fault you. I would have done the same. This spear is my greatest weapon, after all, and surely removing it from play is the most logical option."

He steps forward, until his boots rest just outside the burning ring of blue and black. Inside it, Tanya glares at him.

From the flickering colors at their feet, wide yet impossibly thin black "ribbons" connect to every limb. They wrap around her arms and legs like a mummy's wrappings, with more ensnaring her torso and neck. A fitting comparison.

"Your only mistake was assuming you had any options. Out of respect for Octavius, I only wish I could having avoided such a targeted trick and won by my merits alone. But... I'll get over it."

They're shaped like ribbons, wide from one angle yet thinner than a hair, but they're stronger than anything she'd ever felt. They don't go limp, and they can't be pulled on. Further, it's as though the air around her body is… heavier. Weighing her down.

She is locked in place, completely unable to move.

"No matter what I did, no matter how hard I trained or whatever debilitating energy fields we could put you under, I knew you would be stronger than me. I knew you would be faster than me."

She attempts to move anyway, boosting her enhancement as high as it can go without absolutely draining her reserves. The "ribbons" hum threateningly.

Nothing. Not even a centimeter of movement. The only indication that she'd tried was the ribbons themselves, the abyssal black tinted more and more smoky blue, the hum growing louder the more force she used against them.

"Don't bother. The more you struggle, the stronger the gravitational well will force you still. The more force applied against them, the more force will be returned. A self-sufficient, single target prison, physically impossible to escape. Amazing what a single Greater Spirit can do if you break it enough."

Like Non-Newtonian fluid? Tanya's mind races. The ribbons hum, a smoky blue tinge along star-speckled gossamer black. Tetra Breaker-

"Oh, and of course it also does this." Drake snaps his fingers.

"GAH-!!!"

BZZZZRRRTTTT!

Blue electricity arcs across her form, jagged volts ripping through her. Muscles jerking, heaving. She can't move, she can't move, zapping, searing-

BZZZZZZZZ-!

Drake snaps his fingers.

Tanya's head drops, hiding her face. Every other part of her is forcibly held in the same standing position, smoke curling through scarce gaps in the ribbons.

The faint electrical hum of those pitch-black ribbons settles, for a moment. Desperate inhales and exhales, forced tight and shallow by the immovable pressure all around. Then, a blue tint spreads across the ribbons, the hum growing in intensity. Under Tanya's bangs, a faint teal glow-

Drake snaps his fingers.

BZZZZRRRRRRR-

The light dances across his face, broken shadows and uneven flares highlighting blank features. Here he is, staring at the object of his hate as countless bolts rip and broil her alive.

Drake watches. Longer than last time.

BRRRRRRZZZZZZZZ-!

It's… not how he expected to feel about this. He frowns, snapping his fingers once more.

There's more smoke, this time. A burning smell. Remnants of electrical current arc and curl along reddened fingertips, bloodied skin, static-y hair. Her muscles must be twitching as well, forced to flex and tighten, or at least, he assumes so.

"I'm not going to let you try to break them, either." He says drily. "That'd be wholly irrational."

Drake's spear, still grasped impossibly tight in Tanya's left hand, glows lightly, sparks and crackles of energy trailing its golden form.

Tanya's rough, irregular gasps for air are the only sound, next to the faint hum of her restraints.

"Hm." Drake reaches inside the ring, completely unaffected, and grabs his spear from her hand. The ribbons responding to his will, loosening around her fingers for just a second, and he yanks it free.

Then, he grips her chin, fingernails digging into the skin, and jerks her head up.

"I told you how this would end." He looms over her, a phantom. His rough hand shifts, lower, to her throat, keeping her head tilted up. With his other hand, he points that razor-sharp spearpoint at her sternum, the ribbons there shifting ever so slightly. "Yes, it's a fool's errand to bring emotion to the battlefield… but I don't mind that look in your eyes, if nothing else. The realization. My vindication. There is no version of this story in which I do not kill you, Tanya. When I escaped Xerxes, I swore I would avenge my Scylla, my son. And now-"

She spits on him.

The shadows around his booted feet writhe, then settle.

Drake lets go, stepping back. He wipes his spittle-covered cheek, and part of his beard, then scrubs his palm across his torn, black pants. All the while, he maintains eye contact. He notes her disheveled breathing, the scalding Lichtenburg figures trailing up her neck and onto her bloodied face.

Most of all, he notices the sardonic, mocking smirk on her face, in spite of it all.

"Cry… some more." She spits, less literally this time, her voice rough and dry. Around her stomach, one of the ribbons slackens, just the tiniest bit.

Drake doesn't notice. His heart is pounding in his ears.

He raises his hand. Snaps his fingers.

BRRRRRZZZZZZZZZ-

He snaps them again, quicker than before. Tanya slumps.

After a couple seconds… snap.

BZZZZZZZTTTT!

Zigzagging jolts sizzle in the air.

He snaps again. Off… then again.

On. Waiting until it burns. Until he can feel it in the air.

A snap of his fingers.

"Don't misunderstand me." Drake closes in, grabbing her chin. "I'm mostly asking this out of curiosity, rather than concern. Where does that confidence come from? It's irritating. Is this amusing to you, somehow? Is this false bravado? Why? You must have some sort of masochistic side to you. That, or…"

Drake pauses, the rage quietly draining out of him.

Another ribbon, over her hip this time, loosens ever so slightly.

"…you're terrified, clearly. You don't want to die. Anything is better than that. We're the same, so I understand that perfectly. No matter how painful it is, all that matters is surviving. So, why haven't you broken free yet?"

Tanya's expression remains blank, but he can see it now. The faintest glow in her eyes.

Another ribbon.

Drake stabs his spear forward, that razor-sharp point slicing through the button on her formerly white button-up, just barely breaking the skin over her sternum before stopping. She can't suppress her flinch, nor the ragged gasp torn from her throat.

"Either you can't escape, Tanya… or you can't yet."

Another ribbon.

"I won't be denied. An eye for an eye." He presses harder. "That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

Another ribbon.

Another-

Almost-!

There's more blue than black on her restraints now. That electric hum rattles down to her bones, just as Drake's spearpoint digs deep enough to-

"Gah-!"

A gout of crimson splatters the battered street.

Drake stumbles back, clutching at his right shoulder, an arrow sticking proudly out of the flesh. In a blur, he swaps his spear to his other hand, turning and slashing it up in front of him, deflecting two more arrows.

The familiar fletching, a pinkish red color, clues Tanya in, even through splotchy, blurry vision and an incessant ringing in her ears. Shock clears away some of the fog, and she cranes her neck to her left. To the nearest alley, where…

What is she doing here-!?!

"Enough!" Drake ribs the arrow from his shoulder, ignoring how it soaks into the top of his tunic. "I've waited long enough! Far too long to let it be ruined by convenient timing!"

He snaps his fingers, and Tanya knows only pain… and formulae.

BZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRR-

Intense flashes of heat, followed by icy waves, her nerves screaming, fire crawling, stabbing across her skin, muscle spasming, bolts arching along her fingers, along the jaded, blazing electrical aura sinking in, forcing the breath from her lungs, forcing her thoughts elsewhere, anywhere else, internal, Tetra-

"Enjoy the brief seconds survival has gifted you, Tanya!" Drake snarls at her. A golden blur slices through the next arrow, and he turns his attention away from her sparks and burns.

He turns his attention to the alley. To Shuna.

Who isn't backing down. Who is still aiming her magisteel-reinforced bow, still shooting at the avatar of demise facing her down.

"To come and save you like this..."

The only thing she should be able to hear is the electricity popping, sizzling, her bones creaking, heart pounding, skipping… but she can hear him, too.

"I wonder… how much does she mean to you?"

And then, Drake is gone. A blur. Heading straight for-

"I've seen it so many times. People, overwhelmed with emotion. Losing themselves to it."

The ribbons are blue, taut. That deafening electrical hum shrieks.

"And yet, despite everything, I…"

"SHUNA!!!"

-=-=-=-=-=-

Known Skills List

Tanya:

Common Skill: Thought Communication

Extra Skill: Flames of Babylon

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra Skill: Voice of the World Communication

Unique Skill: Tetra Breaker

Mary:

Common Skill: Thought Communication

Extra Skill: Magic Sense

Extra Skill: Magic Aura

Extra/Intrinsic Skill: Physical Enhancement

Unique Skill: Ability Severance