‘From me, to you, now and in the future.’

Kokuri stared, with her pitch-black eyes, at the Formulae Magic she had written.

The immortal, being the last one standing and having more than ample free time, was confirming the exactness of the Formulae Magic she had written with the one she had memorized. She had gone this far, and she would rather not mess this up. She had viewed it from many angles; each time, they were the same. Except, the written one had a whimsical tweak that she had added.

Regardless, the Formulae Magic was completed and finished.

All that’s left, Kokuri thought, is to wait.

When everything is truly done, I’ll have what I want.

Her hand wandered to her chest, grasping the collar of her kimono where her name was embroidered inside.

‘It’s symbolic!’ Even now, Kokuri could hear inside her mind what the mage, the kimono giver, had said to her, ‘I had embroidered your name at a collar near your heart. That way, it remains with and within you!’

The immortal let out a soft smile.

‘…’

Her thoughts were disturbed; Kokuri sensed a presence behind. She glanced over her shoulder only to see the violet-haired swordswoman, still unconscious. The presence she had felt was simply a feeling, but she didn’t doubt her instinct. Though, it wasn’t the swordswoman’s presence which Kokuri had sensed, but someone—something else.

‘… What are you?’

***

…

She can sense me, she thought.

The young woman with violet hair and amethyst eyes—stood between the fallen swordswoman and the immortal. She was there; at the same time, she was not there. Ori—short for original, a name she was referred to—did not know what she was.

Perhaps, I’m now a mere wandering soul, she thought.

However, she glanced at the immortal’s pitch-black eyes, stared into that deep void, that’s not the answer you seek, isn’t it?

‘Perhaps, the same as you,’ Ori answered.

Ori stood there, had her arms folded whilst she waited for a response. However, what passed after a short while was only a silence of two parts, of the harsh blowing wind and of the heavy rattling rain.

She was there; at the same time, she was not there.

Ori shrugged.

Our conversation is not meant to be. I wasn’t here to talk with you, but to see how destiny unfolds. A spectator, not a player. Ori turned away from the immortal and toward the unconscious swordswoman.

Seeing her always felt like staring at a warped mirror: a reflection that showed the same person; but very much different. She was a shadow unbounded by the boundaries, capable to freely wander about; a personality who—unlike her—would move to challenge destiny.

I’d say, Ori thought, destiny finally took matters into its own hands and finally decided to end your journey here.

She stared at the sword that she held, at what remained:

just a hilt with a shattered blade.

***

‘Why won’t you die?!!’ the immortal had screamed.

Freya had—barely—evaded Kokuri’s attack. When she had swung her kunai at her, Freya only managed to dodge because she had intercepted her opponent’s hand with her free hand, altering the course of the attack.

She wasn’t unscathed; part of the darkness had nicked her cheek, but that was it.

‘I’m not dying here,’ Freya had said.

As she rose from her sway, she had raised her sword, Celeste, along. At the time, feeling the need to end the fight, for her stamina wouldn’t last a prolonged battle, Freya had to deliver a slash that Kokuri wouldn’t be able to regenerate from.

Her right hand grabbed hold of the hilt; she swung Celeste with both hands, adding more “sharpness”.

Kokuri couldn’t react to and dodge this counterattack on time.

As the blade edged toward the immortal, travelling slow; yet fast, its precise and accurate movement left a trace behind, seemingly like a bright ephemeral tail of a shooting star. This slash would inflict a cut that the immortal wouldn’t be able to regenerate from, and who the winner and the defeated would be had already been clear.

Kokuri had nothing she could do to defend herself against this, and Freya’s slash would surely connect.

A grin surfaced on the immortal’s expression.

Then, there was that sound:

Crack.

A cruel sound, one signaling that the definite outcome that had been apparent—was nothing more than an illusion.

It was the sound of Celeste breaking.

Before the slash could ever connect, Celeste’s blade had lost its form, couldn’t withstand the sharpness of Freya’s swing, and shattered into countless pieces. The damage that the sword had sustained and accumulated over the journey with Freya had finally taken its toll—at the very worst moment.

Freya’s swing had gone empty, and Kokuri was never hit by the slash.

Her victory was lost, and her defeat was avoided.

In that instant, Freya jumped backward to gain distance; Kokuri coated her kunai with Darkness Elemental Magic and threw it toward her.

Freya, having expected this approach, was able to catch the kunai by the handle and dispelled most of the darkness. She had managed to avoid being swallowed whole by the Darkness Elemental Magic; however, the impact from the magic remained, and Freya was blown backwards by a numbing, breaking force.

Her feet were lifted from the ground, and she was blown further and further from her opponent.

Wham!

Finally, her back hit the wall of the sanctum. The forceful stopping had shaken her body wholly, sending a shocking, stinging pain, that ricocheted throughout inside. Then, she slid down. Her feet touched the ground, but her knees had no strength to support her weight. She slid further, landing with her bottom, and her head would’ve touched the ground if her back didn’t lean onto the wall for support.

In her grip, she could feel the hilt of her sword, knew that her partner was still with her. However, that hardly mattered, for it was no longer fully a sword.

Freya’s amethyst eyes stared at her enemy: the immortal Kokuri, standing under the three statues. That was the last scene she last saw before her eyelids involuntarily closed and her consciousness slipped away.

***

When Freya opened her eyes—she was in a world of white, thick fog prevailing whichever direction she glanced to.

She placed a hand on her shoulder.

Here again…