The Titans’ advance had stalled. Rei watched each failed strike and felt dread coil in her gut. She’s toying with us… Every blast of fire, every gust of wind, every burst of lightning dissolved into Suzu’s writhing blood-barriers as though the mage were merely swatting at insects. Just when frustration tipped toward despair, Shunjiro stepped past the line of battered fighters. His cheery grin was gone; in its place was a steady calm that cut through the noise of shrieking wind and splashing blood. “Let me try,” he said. His heart hammered, but his voice never wavered. If he could buy even a few seconds, maybe they could turn this. Suzu’s cruel laugh rolled across the broken plaza. She pivoted, crimson scythe humming. “And what rank are you, little hero?” she sneered, eyes bright with mock amusement. “A child pretending at war?” “I’m Rank C,” Shunjiro answered plainly. He met her stare without flinching. “But I won’t go down without a fight.” The laughter sharpened. “Then I can defeat you easily.” She raised a hand; invisible threads of her power slipped toward him, seeking to seize the blood in his veins and freeze it solid. A heartbeat passed, then Suzu’s smile faltered. “What…? There’s no blood flow in your body?” Genuine shock cracked her voice. She took a slow step back, eyes narrowing. Shunjiro blinked. “What do you mean? Of course there is.” A ripple of unease chased down his spine. What is she talking about? Suzu peered closer, almost fascinated. “Have you ever bled in your life?” she asked, curiosity replacing mockery. Around them even the storm of battle seemed to hush. Shunjiro sifted through memories, scraped knees, training bruises, yet no image of blood came. “I… can’t remember if I have,” he admitted, voice low. Before the mystery could deepen, Suzu’s gaze iced over again. She flicked her scythe; a whip of blood slammed Rei across the torso and hurled the Titan leader into a shattered wall. “No!” Yoshinori cried, racing to Rei’s side. Lightning danced over his fists, fury sparking in his eyes. This ends now! Aiko flashed in beside him, swapping places with a fallen stone to avoid stray debris, then helped prop Rei up. Hiroki planted himself in front of them, flames swirling, ready to shield. Despite the crimson soaking Rei’s tunic, she forced a tight smile. “Focus, finish this,” she rasped. Suzu studied them, her injured sister, the enraged protectors, and the inexplicable boy who did not bleed. “Fascinating,” she murmured. What are you, boy? The strongest and the Titans pulled together, battered yet unbroken. With Suzu’s interest momentarily split, they sensed a final, fragile opening. The sky-high barrier pulsed a deep red overhead, as if keeping time with their hearts. Outnumbered and nearly spent, they set their feet, ready for one more charge. Because if they failed here, there would be no second chance. The Mars Guild: regrouping beyond the fight Sora, Yuki, Lars, and Ryota had pulled back to the broken shell of a fish-market, just outside the circle of the blood-soaked ground where Suzu and the main guilds still clashed. Wind howled through missing roof beams, carrying the sharp smell of salt and smoke. Sora sat against a splintered post, his right hand split from wrist to knuckles where a stray sliver of blood-steel had clipped him. Yuki knelt beside him, palms glowing a pale blue. “Hold still,” she murmured. Frost crystals crept over the wound, sealing the gash and dulling the pain. Sora clenched his teeth, then let out a breath as the numbing cold spread. “Thanks, Ice Queen,” he joked weakly. “Still got all my fingers, right?” “For now,” Yuki answered, forcing a small smile. The moment passed, and her eyes drifted to the worst of their group. Lars lay on a makeshift bed of canvas sacks, breathing in short, ragged pulls. Blood soaked the bandage around his ribs where Suzu’s blood-disc carved through his chest. Yuki had layered ice over the wound to slow the bleeding, but even she knew it was only a stop-gap. “He needs a first-class healer,” she whispered. “And fast.” Ryota knelt at Lars’s side, one arm in a sling from a deep cut across his shoulder. The swagger he usually wore was gone; worry etched every line of his face. “Hang on, big guy,” he muttered. “Once this barrier drops, we’ll get you back to Radiance.” Yuki’s hands trembled. I should be out there helping… but if I leave them, they’ll die. Her gaze slid to the far end of the square where the blood pillar still jutted like a crimson spear. A little earlier she had climbed that spike, her shoes digging in, just to free Hikari’s small form. Hikari’s flames had guttered out by then; no heartbeat, no breath. The dwarf warrior who joked louder than anyone was gone. Yuki had carried the body down, and whispered a shaky prayer. Now she listened to the distant crash of Daichi’s wind and the crackle of Yoshinori’s lightning, wishing she could do more than freeze cuts and hold pressure. Tears stung her eyes, quickly turning to tiny ice drops on her lashes. Sora pushed himself upright, wincing. “When this is over,” he said, voice low but steady, “we help bury a Titan and then we train until nobody can make us spectators again.” Ryota managed a nod. Lars exhaled something that might have been agreement. Yuki squeezed Sora’s uninjured hand, icy determination settling behind her sadness. Outside, the red barrier still throbbed, and Suzu’s laughter echoed like a bell of doom. The Mars Guild could only watch, wait, and pray their friends on the front line survived long enough for help to reach them, and long enough for Lars to keep breathing.