The tunnel's end crept into view as they charged forward. Lyric maintained her position in the front, covering her own flanks while Kyoya prevented any assault from the rear.

"Seraphim, what's the plan when we break through?"

"Just don't give them any room; the sooner we face up, the less time they have to keep us bottlenecked!"

The Miscreant nodded and kept up his pace, as they made it through their home stretch and burst out of the grove's exit. They'd run onto a grassy beachfront, vacant for all but seagulls merrily navigating the sandbar.

That same silence followed them out, hanging overhead just as the trees had before, but was soon erased as a silhouette emerged from the forest's edge.

Almost too leisurely, a glimpse of red was the first to unmask itself.

This article was quickly identified as cloth, accompanied by metal equipment of a similar hue. Finally, their form was revealed to be that of a black-haired woman, whose lightweight frame and minimalist armor completely explained how pursuit through thick foliage was so easily manageable.

Yet, this was then immediately betrayed by the massive sword that was slung onto her back.

The enormous, grey and maroon claymore easily outshone even Altar's wingspan, and possessed width fit to eclipse that of any broadsword. Inscribed onto both the hilt and blade were roman numerals, counting up to at least five-hundred.

She rivaled Kyoya's height, hair flowing to roughly her shoulders, but her apparent age he projected well into the twenties. In spite of that, though, a permanent expression of disgust seemed etched into her face, with dagger-sharp, mint-hued eyes casting an especially foul glare to Lyric, who gladly returned the gesture.

Though, Kyoya found a similar disgust in the particular form of red that adorned her equipment.

A loathsome, unjustifiable crimson, baring gnarled fangs of mockery at any semblance of righteousness...

A sadistic hue; one which he'd come to condemn to the title of Vermillion.

"To think, that you'd not only survive my ruse, but destroy it? What a troublesome pair you've turned out to be."

Her voice was completely and utterly arid, devoid of any emotion that wasn't contempt.

However, elation found her upon finally passing a glance to Kyoya. "My, my... You must be the reject I've seen so much about! Oh, how marvelous is she, Takera, for allowing my honorable soul such an opportunity!"

A delirious bliss instantly overwrote the woman's previous monotony, unruly trepidation having taken up residence amongst her stare.

"The introduction's a damn while past overdue, lady!" Lyric rose from her stance, but buckled to the ground after a single step. "Wait, what in the...?" She was straining against something, and it was clear that whatever it was had some ability to render her immobile.

It took him a moment, but thinking back to her being cut by those wires, the cause behind her affliction quickly became clear.

Cursing under his breath, and now forced to divide his attention, Kyoya shot back to the opposition.

"Well?"

"Leyenda Asesina Vali: executioner, named the Guillotine of Teleo. What a privileged occasion it is to meet you both, Lyric Seraphim and Kyoya Miskrit." She stood valiant before them, almost as if knowing that they were far past any fighting shape.

In reality, Kyoya knew this was the case.

Lyric's condition was deteriorating by the second, now hardly able to hold herself up, and they were surrounded by water. Fleeing back into the forest would be impossible if he'd have to carry her, and without anyone in earshot to call for help, he was effectively the only thing standing between this enemy and her apparent goal. "Well, I suppose if not both of you, infecting this operation's primary target with the threads is certainly an improvement from none."

Inch by grueling inch, the Seraph pulled herself to a sitting position.

"I-... hate to do this to you, Blue, but she's right... I can hardly move-"

"I'll buy time. Just try to get your feel back." Kyoya whispered after crouching down to her level.

He found himself staring back to Leyenda once again, a blistering lump forming at the back of his throat. "So what's this opportunity you keep mouthin' off about?"

That expression of disgust shone through for a moment, until she found another sudden rush of euphoria in uttering her duties.

"Why, the opportunity to please the honorable lord Oberon, of course! If not for him, then what purpose do any of us serve-"

A sudden urge overran the boy's instincts.

It beckoned for him to drive every last shred of her wretched being to extinction.

"Lord who?"

Crookedness came about the executioner's glare.

"The honorable lord Oberon, whose holy form you tarnished five years ago. Words cannot describe the gratefulness I feel, my humble soul being the one chosen by Fate to eliminate both a member of the Defiant and an international criminal!"

His focus had to be divided once more so to prevent himself from being thrown into a reckless assault. Losing composure here would cost plenty more than a few bumps and bruises.

"He took something from me, so it's only right that I took something back."

Kyoya scowled and flashed his sharpened tooth. "That lousy Lord of yours is about as honorable as the grime on my boots."

The Miscreant may as well have spat on the pride of whatever it was that she found purpose within. Leyenda eyed him with unbound spite, clenching her fists so tightly that even the metal of her gauntlets began to crumple and creak.

"You..." She trembled, an odd spark of realization forming in her eyes, "...You poor lamb, clearly led astray by worldly temptation... While you may have forsook our Lord's generosity once before, I'm certain that he would be delighted to see how you've evolved..."

"...Evolved?"

Leyenda frowned and took several steps forward.

Though, suddenly, he couldn't move in response.

Kyoya stood rooted in place before the Seraph, whose expression immediately plummeted upon the realization of something else being amiss.

"Stand down, defector." Commanded the woman.

He stood his ground.

"So be it, then. Enthrall."

Leyenda locked eyes with him, and in that instant, a blitzing jolt of pain far greater than any before tore his mind asunder and knocked him to a kneel. "Now, step aside."

It had come and gone in an instant, but without so much as a second thought, Kyoya wrenched himself from his position in front of Lyric, sidelined as the enemy cast a predatory leer over his partner.

"...B-Blue? Hey!"

Words found their way to his mouth, but his voice wouldn't cooperate, leaving him to mouth hollowed replies that would never reach her.

"My name is Leyenda Asesina Vali, and the objective delegated to my identity is to seek out and exterminate the supposed vermin that compose the reincarnated Defiant."

She drew her blade from its oversized scabbard, using only one arm to hold its shearing edge over the crippled Seraph. "While such a flame as the Hope's would be one I'd much rather not have to extinguish, the potential of reclaiming such a glorious lamb does plenty to affirm my actions here; the bastard pupil of our honorable Lord, claiming to possess the latent strength of a Dragon of old, who brought the wrath of Demons upon his cherished home and slew his own sister in the wake of his failure..."

She glanced back to the petrified Miscreant, only his eyes capable of their own action. "...How delightful."

Lyric had finally begun to find her feet, but stood feeble and trembling, looking as though so little as a breeze could put her back on the ground.

"I don't know what you did to my partner, but... we're not your everyday-"

"Oh, spare me." Leyenda raised a foot and kicked Lyric square in the chest, knocking any breath clean out of her, and sending the girl right back to the dirt from which she'd worked so tirelessly to rise. "I believe this concludes the introduction you requested."

Even like this, the Seraph's determination seemed boundless. Clutching her torso, the sparks and static of her signature aura flared in and out of being. Yet, Kyoya struggled to even clench his fist.

The reality of their difference in strength had never been so apparent.