Silence hung over the fortress like a shroud.
If the soldiers had clung to the faintest delusion that the Gifted Knights' power still lay within the bounds of human possibility, that hope was now shattered utterly by reality, ground to dust with no trace left to find. Their vaunted commander had fallen in a single exchange, and even a direct blast from the Mage Cannon had failed to scratch their foe.
This was no human—this was a monster!
Despair etched itself across countless faces, morale plummeting to its lowest ebb. General Celt felt the bitter shift in the air, yet he stood frozen on the walls, helpless, unable to find a single word to say. Sidvie had laid waste to their hopes with unadulterated, untrickery power—*raw strength*, plain and simple.
"Pathetic cowards."
Sidvie lifted her head once more, her cold gaze fixed on the fortress above, a sneer curling her lips.
"All Wester men are nothing but ants. You are not even worthy of being ruled. Hmph—weaklings will always be weak, and you are utterly disgraceful."
"...!!!"
Her unsparing taunts had the soldiers grinding their teeth, their fists clenched tight with rage. They seethed at her words, glancing at one another, praying someone would step forward and put this insolent brat in her place. But no one moved, no one dared refute her.
"You really are…"
Sidvie's brow twitched, and she opened her mouth to speak—when her expression suddenly sharpened, and her petite frame darted backward in a flash!
It was too late.
Two streaks of light, one black and one white, materialized before her in the blink of an eye, exuding an overwhelming aura of killing intent. In that instant, Sidvie finally dropped her disdainful smirk. Facing the onrushing twin lights, the second sword on the left of her back slid free with a sharp *shink*!
*CLANG!!!*
A crisp clash of steel rang out across the silent battlefield. Sidvie's face flickered, her already pale cheeks blanching further. She twisted and leaped back, her two unsheathed swords—still bound to her by leather straps—stabbing deep into the earth to anchor her. Even so, she could not fully dispel the crushing force of the blow; the blades carved two deep gashes a dozen meters long into the ground before finally skidding to a halt, yanking her body to a stop. Her small frame swayed once, then stilled.
The black and white streaks, meanwhile, rebounded from the clash, twirling through the air before merging into a single blur—then splitting apart to reveal two distinct figures.
Two girls.
They wore elegant dresses, one pure white, the other jet black, their faces younger even than Sidvie's, lit up with sweet, innocent smiles. They stood close together, the white-cloaked girl's left hand clasped tight in the black-cloaked girl's right. Her right hand stretched back, gripping a closed white parasol; the black-cloaked girl mirrored her pose exactly. At a glance, they looked like perfect reflections in a mirror, indistinguishable in their movement and bearing.
Then the two girls laughed softly, their clasped hands swinging as they took a graceful step forward, like dancers gliding across a ballroom floor. They raised their parasols in unison, pointing them straight at Sidvie—their movements precise, swift, unwavering.
"Big sister, won't you play with us?"
"Big sister, play with us, okay?"
"Won't you play with Messiah…"
"Won't you play with Semia…"
"…a fun little game?"
"It'll be such an interesting game~"
They exchanged a glance, then let out a tinkling laugh, light as silver bells—as if this was not a battlefield, but a playground where children frolicked and played.
This time, silence fell on *both* armies.
The Wester soldiers knew exactly who these twin sisters were, of course—and they knew the girls were powerful. But never had they imagined seeing them step onto the battlefield. In truth, many had dismissed them outright, their minds refusing to accept the thought of children fighting a war. Such a thing was cruel, immoral—something only the bloodthirsty Sith Empire would stoop to, they had thought.
But now they stared in awe as the two girls not only attacked, but forced Sidvie—*Sidvie*, one of the Sith's Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—to retreat with a single blow.
This was the same Sidvie who had stood her ground against a direct Mage Cannon blast only moments before. And now she had been driven back by two little girls?
Just who *were* these two?
The Sith army was equally dumbfounded. They had heard whispers of the **Doomsday Knights** from their commanders, of course—but those were distant legends, faded memories. The Four Horsemen were real, tangible, standing right beside them. For all their differing talents in warfare, not one of them had ever been forced to retreat in a one-on-one confrontation.
*Never*.
"So these are the Doomsday Knights?"
Lindilot's delicate brows furrowed as she studied the two distant girls. The distance should have made it impossible to see them clearly—but Gifted Knights were far from ordinary, and superhuman eyesight was the least of their gifts.
"Your Highness, should we order Lady Sidvie to fall back?"
The lady-in-waiting at her side's face flashed with unease. She stepped close to the princess, her voice a low whisper.
"No."
Lindilot rejected the suggestion without a moment's hesitation.
"Sidvie knows what she is doing."
*Hmph…!!!*
As if in answer to Lindilot's words, Sidvie let out a cold snarl and straightened her back.
The two swords embedded in the ground shot upward, swirling through the air before crossing and returning to her side, hovering protectively around her petite frame. Sidvie bit her lip so hard it whitened, refusing to make a sound. But no one noticed the silent toll the blow had taken—for while the clash had seemed evenly matched to the onlookers, Sidvie knew she had been dealt a hidden wound.
The difference lay in the basics.
No matter how one looked at it, these sisters had stood by Blake's side longer even than Judy and the others. Their mastery of the Gifted Knight's power had been honed to a razor-sharp perfection, a level of refinement few could match. Sidvie was powerful, yes—but like all modern Gifted Knights on this continent, she knew nothing of the ancient techniques for channeling one's strength. In the split second their blades clashed, she had felt her power slip away, deflected by a strange, unfamiliar skill—while their force had struck her body unimpeded, full and true. That was why she could not speak now; her blood roiled in her chest, and opening her mouth would send her coughing up blood on the spot.
They were not on the same level.
Sidvie understood this now. Two Gifted Knights, each stronger than she was—she could not even guarantee victory against one, let alone both together.
But…
She did not turn her head, yet she felt the faint, anxious gaze on her from behind.
Her elder sister was watching. How could she run?
*Hmph!*
Sidvie took a deep breath, forcing the roiling blood down, her jaw set tight with resolve.
"Come at me!!"
With her low shout, the last two swords on her back slid free in a single, crisp flash!
Four swords, unsheathed at last.
"Then big sister, let's play~"
"Let's play this fun game together~"
At her words, Messiah and Semia broke into bright grins. They stepped apart, their soft hands still clasped for a heartbeat—then released, spinning away like ballroom dancers.
But their movements were faster than lightning.
Their petite frames blurred into streaks of light once more, splitting left and right, arcing in two perfect semicircles around Sidvie—then closing in, pincer-like, to strike.
"…!"
Sidvie gritted her teeth, and the four swords hovering around her roared into action as if commanded by an invisible hand. They split and crossed, sending a shower of steel sparks flying like starlight, forming a protective barrier around her.
If the twin sisters were two raging storms, Sidvie was a tempest of starlight, holding them at bay. The black and white parasols charged forward with unstoppable momentum, the air whirling and roaring around them like a thousand stampeding horses. And waiting for them was a wall of cold steel, a river of starlight that looked beautiful from afar—yet felt like falling into a bottomless abyss, like being pinned under the gaze of a hundred venomous serpents, when faced head-on.
"——!!!"
A shrill, ear-splitting screech of metal on metal rang out.
Strangely enough, the parasols—seeming to be made of silk and lace—clashed with the steel swords with a sound like hardened metal colliding. Two of the four blades slid past the parasols, deflecting their force with a deft twist—while the other two seized the opening, stabbing straight for the twins' bodies.
Their movements were blurring fast, too quick for any but the most skilled to follow—but Blake and Lindilot watched with perfect clarity.
Just as the blades were about to pierce their flesh, the sisters moved as if they had foreseen the strike all along. They twisted their wrists in unison, flipping their parasols to block diagonally before them. The swords struck true—yet a heartbeat too late, clanging against the parasols and bouncing off with a sharp crack. In that same instant, the sisters darted past Sidvie, left and right, their movements identical in every way—they rolled, sprang to their feet, and raised their parasols once more, aiming straight for her.
Perfectly synchronized. Even a single strand of hair fell the same way on both their shoulders, slanting down to frame their faces.
It was a sight beyond all comprehension, a scene that might have belonged only in a dream.
"Huh?"
Ophelia let out a soft, confused gasp at the sight.
"What is it?"
Blake turned to her, asking.
"I… I just wonder why Lady Messiah and Lady Semia aren't using magic? Aren't they masters of magical swordsmanship?"
Having trained under the twins and suffered their lessons countless times, Ophelia knew their fighting style intimately—knew they wielded a unique form of magical swordsmanship. But so far, the battle seemed to be a mere contest of bladework, no magic in sight. It left her utterly perplexed.
"The enemy has not yet unleashed her full power."
Blake turned back to the battlefield, his gaze lazy and unhurried as he spoke.
"So there is no need for us to either. Messiah and Semia said this is just a game, after all."
A proud smile tugged at his lips.
"And what fun is a game if it ends too quickly?"
For the twins, this was indeed nothing more than a game—but for the onlookers, it was a battle that defied all understanding, a display of power far beyond their wildest imaginings.
Messiah and Semia moved as one, their every action perfectly synchronized, no matter how fierce the fight. They weaved and darted past each other, the black and white parasols stirring up gales that threatened to sweep everything in their path away. At the heart of the storm, four venomous serpents charged head-on, twisting and slithering through the chaos like fish in a raging current, striking at every opening, ready to deliver a fatal blow at a moment's notice.
No one had ever seen swordsmanship like this.
A sword was a hard, unyielding thing—no amount of skill could change that fundamental truth. But in Sidvie's grasp, guided by the four leather straps, the hard, sharp blades seemed to turn soft and malleable, their edges coiling and twisting like living things. It was a sight that stretched the limits of belief.
All the while, Sidvie stood perfectly still, letting the four swords defend her. The twins, meanwhile, were bound by an invisible thread, their every move a perfect mirror of the other, only reversed in direction, their attacks coordinated to the millisecond.
For the onlookers, only a few minutes had passed—but for Sidvie, her limits had been reached.
Damn it!
She had known they would be formidable foes from the moment she first saw them, but she had never imagined being pressed so hard, so thoroughly dominated.
How dare they make her look like a fool in front of her elder sister!
The thought filled her with blazing anger—but even so, she remained calm, parrying the relentless storm of blows, her mind racing to find a way out of her predicament.
*Hoo hoo hoo…*
*Hee hee hee…*
The tinkling silver laughter rang out again, and this time, an icy sense of danger pricked at Sidvie's spine for no reason at all.
"Big sister is really strong~"
"So we have to try harder now, okay?"
As the words fell, the raging gales surrounding her vanished in an instant.
The black and white figures came to a stop, standing silent and opposite each other—one before Sidvie, one behind. This time, they raised their parasols straight up, and…
*Snap.*
They opened them at the same time.
"Then let's start, big sister~"
"It's time to end this. Do your best~"
As their voices faded, Sidvie felt two colossal, crushing auras descend upon her, one from the front, one from the back, pinning her in place, robbing her of all movement. Then the wind howled once more.
The black and white streaks blazed forward like shooting stars, straight for the target in the center. But this time, their aura of power far surpassed anything seen before. The ground beneath their charge split open in jagged cracks, dirt and stone flying to the sides in a violent spray.
Nowhere to run.
In that moment, Sidvie finally wanted to flee. She could feel it—this was power she could not hope to counter. The earlier clash had been nothing more than a test, a mere warm-up. These two girls, younger than she was, had finally unleashed their true strength.
But there was no escape.
*Hmph!!! Do you really think I'm easy to bully?!*
In her greatest moment of peril, Sidvie let out a furious roar. And with that roar, the restraint suit that had bound her body split open layer by layer, the delicate arms she had kept hidden behind her back unfurling at last, closing around the four swords hovering at her sides.
At long last, faced with absolute annihilation, Sidvie finally *stuck back* with her own hands!
*BOOM!!!*
A deafening explosion shook the entire battlefield, the force of it making ears ring and heads throb. The black and white shooting stars did not dart past each other this time—they crashed together head-on. A blinding burst of light erupted, accompanied by a thunderous roar, the very fortress walls trembling under the sheer power of the collision.
The onlookers stared, their eyes wide with shock—then saw a sight that defied all belief.
Sidvie's two hands closed around the hilts of two swords, one forward, one back, driving them straight into the black and white parasols. She stopped their advance, cold steel against silk, *dead in its tracks*. And from the four swords, a faint, eerie green light began to glow. Sidvie let out a cold laugh, her voice a furious snarl.
"RETREAT!!!"
She did not move a muscle.
Her hands remained on the four swords, perfectly still—but as the word left her lips, the two parasols were sent flying, as if struck by two invisible giants, spinning away to the side. Messiah and Semia were hurled backward with the force of the blow, their eyes wide with curious surprise, their small brows furrowing slightly.
The open parasols snapped closed again, arcing through the air in an attempt to return to their hands—but in that instant, the swords in Sidvie's grasp shot forward like projectiles.
It seemed to happen in slow motion, yet it was over in the blink of an eye. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, four black streaks shot through the air like venomous serpents, stabbing straight for the two petite bodies suspended in midair.
And this time, Messiah and Semia did not dodge.
The four swords pierced their bodies in an instant, blooming into brilliant red flowers of blood.