"Ahhh!" A pained cry tore through the forest as Anna woke with a start, clutching her abdomen. Her breathing came ragged and shallow, her complexion drained of color as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. She opened her eyes to a deep blue sky scattered with stars, the familiar twin moons suspended above like silent witnesses.
"What... what happened?" Her voice emerged hoarse, barely above a whisper.
"You tried to kill me,"
The reply startled her into sudden movement. She tried to sit up, to stand, but her body refused. Too weak. Gritting her teeth, she turned her gaze and found a young man in an odd position—knees raised, elbows propped against them, his face cradled in his hands.
"...It's you!"
Recognition flooded back, and with it came rage. Her eyes blazed. She raised her hand forward, trembling with fury. "Why won't you just die already?!"
A magic circle erupted from her palm. Ice formed—a massive shard, gleaming and vicious, tearing through the air with impossible speed. The circle expanded, reality warping around its edges.
The ground trembled beneath her as she forced herself to standing, pouring everything into this single attack—everything she had left.
Azalea simply stood, quiet and indifferent, watching as though observing a play while his life hung in the balance. The tattoo on his hand had long since stopped glowing, had vanished entirely, yet he didn't waver for a single second.
"I'm warning you for the last time, Annabella," he said, carefully rising to his feet. The gales of wind from her attack buffeted against him, trying to push him back, but he held his ground. His bloodied, torn clothes fluttered in the intense breeze. "You don't want to do this." He slotted his hands into his pockets and stood directly before the colossal shard of ice, which seemed to be freezing everything in its path.
"DIE, YOU BASTARD! JUST DIE!!!"
Puuuuum!
The enormous shard shot forward at blinding speed. He simply sighed and remained standing, hands buried in his pockets.
Whooosh!
Trees snapped like twigs. Bushes tore from the earth. The force was so overwhelming that even Anna couldn't withstand it—she tumbled backward, her body crashing hard against the trunk of a massive tree. The impact drove the air from her lungs.
"Haaah... haaah... haaah..." Her breathing came in ragged gasps as she pressed a trembling hand against her abdomen, staring at the devastation she'd wrought.
"That should do it," she muttered through gritted teeth, her voice tight with pain. She placed her other hand on the ground and forced herself upward, using the tree trunk as an anchor. Slowly, painfully, she managed to stand, though she remained entirely dependent on it to keep from collapsing. "Haaah... haaah... haaah..." She panted, her eyes fixed on the destruction ahead.
"Argh." A groan escaped her as she shifted her weight, adjusting her stance. "I got careless. I should have finished him from the start," she said, her voice edged with frustration and regret.
The mist began to clear.
And then—
"I warned you, didn't I?" His voice cut through the dissipating haze, and her eyes snapped wide with horror.
"How is this possible?" The words came out as barely a breath.
The mist parted completely, revealing him standing there with his hands still buried in the remnants of his trouser pockets, his figure silhouetted against the pale moonlight. He tilted his head, and she heard the satisfying crack of his neck as he worked his hands along both sides.
"Now," he said, his voice soft and absolutely final, "kneel."
"KYAAHHH!" The cry that tore from her throat was visceral. Her body crumpled to the ground as though every bone had suddenly turned to water, her muscles seizing in response to the sheer force of his command. She was helpless against it—a puppet with invisible strings.
"You bastard! Ahhhh!" She tried to fight, tried to push back against whatever force was consuming her, but the more she struggled, the more apparent her powerlessness became. Something was fundamentally wrong.
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Her roar of agony echoed through the forest, raw and desperate. Blood seeped from every pore of her body, running hot and wet across her skin, but Azalea made no move at all. He simply stood there, watching in silence.
"Please... please stop! Ahhhh! Please!" Her pleas came between gasps, her voice breaking as her body continued to betray her. She had finally understood what was happening—she had lost her free will.
But even as she broke, piece by piece, Azalea made no move. He merely stood in the wreckage of the battlefield, silent and impassive, as though watching the inevitable unfolding of something he'd already foreseen.