Part Ninety-Two — The Prophecy Blade

　Her blade found me twice more in quick succession, clean, precise hits that shouldn't have landed given how carefully I'd been reading her movements.

That's not natural skill. That's something else entirely.

　"What kind of blade is that," I said, genuinely asking rather than simply making conversation, backing off enough to actually study the weapon properly.

"It is known as a Prophecy Blade," Anti-Subconsciousness supplied. "It allows the wielder's strikes to pierce slightly into the future — landing where the target will be, rather than where they currently are."

That's cool. That's genuinely, deeply unfair, and also cool.

　"That's... impressive," I said, out loud, mostly to buy myself another half-second to think. "Still on edge about it, though."

　She didn't respond to that, already closing the distance again, faster this time. I got my blade up in time, barely, only for hers to somehow bypass the block entirely and land clean against my side, drawing blood in a line I felt considerably more than I wanted to admit.

Okay. Being on edge isn't cutting it. Need to actually do something about this gap.

"I would suggest releasing ten percent of your current limiter," Anti-Subconsciousness said, calm despite the urgency underneath it, "if you intend to survive this engagement with any margin for error remaining."

A limiter. I have a limiter?

Doesn't matter right now. Do it.

　"Alright," I said, out loud. "Do it."

　The moment it released, the entire battlefield around us shifted color — every visible surface bleeding faintly into the same red-purple hue my own aura carried, a wave of pressure rolling outward that I felt even from the inside of it.

　Sophia felt it too. I watched it register on her face, plain and unmistakable — and watched her show absolutely no fear in response to it at all.

Respect. Genuine respect, for that.

　My blade began to vibrate faintly in my hand, something new settling into its edge that hadn't been there a moment before.

　She moved again, and this time the strike came fast enough that even the light in the clearing seemed to lag half a beat behind it — silent, absolute, the kind of motion that shouldn't have been visible to track at all.

　I blocked it.

　Clean. Solid. No blood, no bypass, just steel meeting steel exactly where it needed to.

There it is. Even.

　The fight that followed stretched considerably longer than anything I'd faced since Ignivar first tested me at Horizoncrest's edge — her Prophecy Blade meeting my own vibrating edge in exchange after exchange, holy magic and spirit magic threading through her strikes in patterns I had to actually work to read rather than simply overpower.

She's throwing everything she's got at this. Every technique, every trick that blade actually offers her. And it's still not quite enough.

　The difference, in the end, wasn't skill. I want to be honest about that, because she deserved better than losing to simple attrition after fighting this well. It was endurance — my own reserves simply didn't run dry the way hers eventually had to, however masterfully she'd managed to stretch them.

　Her blade finally slipped from an exhausted grip, clattering against the broken ground, and she sank to one knee, breathing hard, spent in a way that had nothing left to hide behind.

　I lowered my own blade, letting the fight actually end rather than pressing an advantage that had stopped being necessary.

　"You're very strong," I said, meaning it fully. "It'd be a shame to end someone this powerful. We'll meet again — on good terms, I hope, next time."

　Something shifted in her expression at that — surprise, maybe, or the beginning of something that wasn't quite trust yet, but wasn't hostility either.

　Then a voice cut across the field, and everything about that moment shattered instantly.

　"There won't be a next time."