Chapter 64: The Shadow of Silent Grief, III
The silence shattered.
Thread Light flared. Shadow sharpened.
Every motion between Clara and Sayo carried weight—not just the force of combat, but the weight of memory. The space between them wasn't battlefield, it was reckoning. And in that moment. We all felt it. This was no longer just survival. It was consequence.
Sayo darted forward again, blade carving a wide arc through the pale field. Clara caught it on her forearm—threadlight surged, pushing back—but Sayo pivoted, cutting low. Clara leapt, flipped, landed hard.
The two separated—then crashed together again. Dust rose in waves. The world bent under their speed.
Erich muttered, "They're beyond us."
I said nothing.
Clara was fighting without hesitation. Every movement looked like instinct—guided by something deeper than thought. Not revenge. Not anger.
And Sayo answered it in kind.
They mirrored one another in opposition—like same-kin born from different times.
Clara twisted as Sayo lunged, pushing against the side of the blade with her bare hand. Threadlight shimmered along her skin but didn't burn. Her pulse detonated at the point of contact—force met force, and they both slid away.