Late at night, moonlight poured down like liquid silver, draping Fairy Tail's vast rear training field in a layer of cold, silvery white.
The raucous energy of the earlier banquet had long been swallowed by the night. Most guild members were already deep in their dreams. But this quiet field was anything but peaceful.
Heavy, rhythmic gusts tore through the air again and again, echoing in the stillness.
Following the direction Mirajane had casually pointed out during the day, Hoshino Arashi easily found the scarlet figure that stood out vividly beneath the moonlight.
Erza had shed her ornate armor and now wore a fitted black training outfit designed for movement. Yet over it, she had strapped on an extra set of weight-enhancing metal armor—breastplate and gauntlets—each inscribed with burdening magic arrays that shimmered faintly with magical light beneath the moon.
Her hands gripped a greatsword taller than herself. With absolute focus, she was performing the most fundamental sword swings.
Sweat drenched her bangs, strands clinging to her smooth forehead, tracing down her flawless cheeks. When each bead reached her chin, it paused before falling, scattering crystal light in the moon's reflection.
Every swing she made was full-force, drawing on every ounce of strength in her body.
The heavy blade cleaved the night, and the wind pressure that followed howled violently, sweeping dust and grass into a swirling storm. That raw, unrestrained power was enough to make anyone of weaker will tremble.
Hoshino Arashi did not interrupt.
He stood quietly beneath a nearby tree, arms folded, body shrouded in shadow, watching with a calm, analytic gaze.
He could tell immediately: Erza's swordsmanship foundation was terrifying.
Every motion—every cut—carried the ferocity of a warrior who had fought countless battles for survival, forged in blood and steel. It was the purest form of combat instinct.
But precisely because of that, the flaws within it were all the more glaring.
He watched for nearly ten minutes.
When Erza finally completed a full training sequence, planting her massive sword into the ground and gasping for breath, Arashi stepped out of the shadows.
"Still training, Erza?"
His clear voice echoed across the empty field.
"Hoshino Arashi?"
Erza's crimson eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't sensed another presence at all.
"You haven't gone to rest?"
"I was about to."
Arashi stopped before her, his gaze dropping to the heavy training sword. Without preamble, he spoke plainly.
"I watched you for a while. Your sword carries power."
"Thank you."
At the praise, the tension in Erza's face softened slightly, and a faint smile tugged at her lips—a rare moment of pride and relief at her efforts being acknowledged.
"But your problem is obvious."
His tone suddenly sharpened.
"You're obsessed with raw destruction. To maximize the force of every strike, you overload your stance, your follow-through, even your recovery. That excess movement kills your speed and fluidity in real combat—and worse, it drains your magic unnecessarily with every swing."
Erza's smile froze.
Defiance rose in her eyes—fierce, unyielding.
Her sword was her pride, the very reason she survived through her personal hell.
"My sword exists to crush every enemy that stands in my way," she shot back, her voice edged with iron. "Only overwhelming power leads to victory!"
"Is that so?"
Arashi smiled faintly—an unreadable curve of the lips.
"Then show me. Use that sword of yours and let me experience this 'path of power' you believe in."
"You said it yourself!"
Erza's competitive spirit flared to life.
She tossed aside the heavy training blade. It hit the ground with a deep thud.
Hum!
A brilliant ring of light burst from beneath her feet. Within it, her black outfit vanished, replaced instantly by gleaming silver armor—her most iconic form: Heaven's Wheel Armor.
Two longswords appeared in her hands, both glinting sharply under the moon.
"I won't hold back!"
"Good."
Arashi remained still—unarmed, unguarded.
The next moment, Erza launched forward.
The grass beneath her exploded as she shot forth like a scarlet blur, leaving only the crack of air breaking behind her. That wasn't mere speed—it was speed and strength fused to perfection.
In a heartbeat, she was before him, her twin blades crossing into a killing X aimed at his throat and heart.
But Arashi simply lifted his right hand—calmly, almost lazily.
Hum—!
An invisible force field spread before him.
Erza's blades, carrying the full might of her power, stopped dead less than ten centimeters from his skin—frozen midair, as though striking an unseen wall of absolute solidity. The rebound numbed her hands.
"What—?!"
Her instincts screamed. She twisted her wrists, slashing again from new angles.
Yet no matter how she moved—swift stabs, heavy sweeps, overhead cuts meant to seal off retreat—Arashi countered them effortlessly.
His unseen telekinesis always manifested a fraction of a second before her sword reached him, forming precise barriers that nullified every blow.
He hadn't even moved his feet.
"Your stance gives you away. Each time you gather strength, your shoulder lifts—point-two seconds early. That's a weak point."
"This strike has power, but your weight shifts too far forward. Your recovery's too slow. I could counter from three different angles."
"And that armor change—half a second of magic stagnation and body pause. Fatal in real combat."
Arashi's cool, surgical commentary cut through the night. Each word landed like a scalpel, dissecting Erza's technique and laying bare its flaws.
The more she fought, the tighter her chest felt. Frustration welled up like fire.
Finally, she roared, channeling all her magic into one last desperate thrust.
The sword screamed through the air.
But this time, Arashi didn't just defend.
His telekinetic field twisted—splitting into countless invisible tendrils that wrapped around her sword. With a subtle spiral of force, they redirected her motion entirely.
A jolt ran through her wrist—she lost control.
Not disarmed. Redirected.
Slash!
The blade arced through the air and came to rest at Arashi's throat—its edge hovering less than a centimeter from his skin.
The reflected moonlight gleamed cold and sharp between them, illuminating Erza's crimson eyes—wide with disbelief, confusion, and defeat.
She had lost. Completely.
Hoshino Arashi had demonstrated, with ruthless clarity, the vast gulf between their understanding of battle.
A gap as wide as the heavens themselves.
(End of Chapter)
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