A memory surfaced—Nailah, seated in an easy pose on the training grounds where she first learned the Arcane Arts. Across from her, Ayao reclined lazily on a chair as she was reading a book. Ayao suddenly sat up. "So…"

  A playful smirk spread across her lips. "What’s your power?"

  Nailah straightened her back, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I can transmute liquids into strings!"

  Ayao gave a small nod, seemingly pleased. "Looks like you’re a Converter. That’s a good power, even though it might take a lot of finesse."

  Nailah tilted her head slightly. "Really?"

  Ayao waved a hand dismissively. "Yes. To be honest, any power can be great when used right." Then, raising a single finger to the sky, she added, "Oh, and one more thing—you don’t want to expose your power too much."

  Nailah’s curiosity was piqued. "Why?"

  Ayao sighed, her eyes drifting closed as she leaned back. "Because it’s illegal, and it will attract knights. And secondly… if your enemy knows your power, you could be at a disadvantage."

  Back in the present, Nailah stood on the train’s rooftop, gripping nearly invisible strings that extended from her fingers. The threads were attached to Bors’s arm—he had been mere inches from striking down Harlow, who now lay weakly on the floor.

  Nailah gritted her teeth. She had transformed her sweat into strings. Now let’s finish this quickly! She thought

  She yanked the threads.

  Bors’s eyes widened in shock as he felt himself being pulled toward her. What?! She’s an Arcanist!?

  In a swift motion, the massive knight was lifted into the air, his body twisting like a kite caught in a storm. Nailah took advantage of the momentum and slammed him down with all her strength.

  "This is payback for earlier!" she declared as Bors crashed into the train’s roof with a deafening impact.

  Zeke, lying injured on the floor, could only watch in stunned silence. Even Harlow, barely conscious, was left gaping at the display of power.

  Bors’ legs stuck out awkwardly from the roof’s dented surface.

  But the moment of triumph was short-lived.

  With a low, guttural groan, Bors rose to his feet. He dusted himself off, rolling his shoulders before locking eyes with Nailah.

  "A witch, huh?" His voice was laced with disdain.

  Reaching behind his back, he grasped the hilt of his greatsword and unsheathed it in one fluid motion. The steel gleamed under the moonlight.

  Bors took a firm stance. "Then I won’t hold back anymore."

  Nailah looked at her hands as fresh blood trickled down her palms from the cuts. Taking a deep breath, she pressed them together, the blood weaving between her fingers to form new strings.

  She smirked. "Bring it on, big guy."

  Bors charged.

  Nailah met him halfway, sprinting forward with equal resolve.

  The knight swung his massive sword in a downward arc, aiming to cleave her in two. But before the blade could reach her, red strings shot out from her hands and coiled around the weapon, halting its descent.

  Bors clenched his teeth, both frustrated and surprised. This witch… She blocked my strike before I could even put power into it!

  Nailah wasted no time, she twisted her fingers, manipulating the strings to wrap around the sword’s handle. Using the tension, she deflected the blade aside and leaped into a spin, aiming a kick straight at Bors’s ribs.

  The force should have sent him flying. But instead, Bors barely budged, having blocked the attack with his forearm.

  Nailah landed lightly, frowning. "You just won’t go down, huh?"

  Bors straightened, his expression dark. "As if I’d let your witchcraft take me down."

  Nailah rolled her shoulders, flexing her fingers. "We’ll see about that."

  With a flick of her wrists, Nailah’s fingers danced like a puppeteer’s, commanding razor-thin threads through the air.

  "Sanguine Thread Lash!"

  The sharp threads weaved erratically through the air, snapping and lashing like severed electric cables, yet each movement carried lethal precision. They cut through the air and carved deep gouges into the train roof as they closed in on Bors.

  His instincts kicked in. He dodged, twisting and weaving to avoid the incoming strands. But he wasn’t fast enough.

  A few strings snapped around his wrist and the hilt of his greatsword. His armor saved him—without it, his hand might have been severed.

  His eyes widened in realization. "What—?!"

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  Nailah grinned and pulled hard.

  Bors resisted, gripping his sword tighter. "I’m not going to fall for the same trick twice!"

  With a powerful yank, he reversed the situation, pulling her toward him instead.

  "What?!" Nailah gasped as she was dragged forward against her will.

  Bors readied his sword for a devastating swing, prepared to cleave her in half.

  Panic set in.

  This is bad—really bad!

  At the last moment, she let go of the strings, dropping low as Bors's blade whooshed overhead. In a desperate move, she slid under him with the agility of a dancer, narrowly evading death.

  Zeke, still sprawled on the floor, watched the battle unfold with wide eyes. His heart pounded.

  What’s that? he thought. She’s evenly matched with the knight!

  But then, his expression darkened.

  …but…

  His gaze fell on Nailah. Her breathing was ragged, her movements slowing ever so slightly. She was pushing herself too hard.

  Why does she look so drained?

  Nailah gritted her teeth. Sweat mixed with the blood trickling down her hands. Too much blood and sweat… I can’t keep this up…

  Zeke clenched his fist.

  Then, his face twisted in frustration, anger directed at himself.

  She’s at her limit. We all are… It’s over… We were too greedy…

  Nailah’s chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. Blood dripped from her fingertips, staining the strings still connected to her hands. Across from her, Bors stood tall, his massive sword resting against his shoulder, a smirk stretching across his lips.

  “You look tired, witch,” he taunted, rolling his shoulders as though warming up for the finishing blow.

  A surge of Vistra swirled around him, its icy blue aura chilling the air. He shifted his stance, eyes narrowing in focus. “Worry not. I’ll put you to rest.”

  Nailah swallowed hard, her body screaming in protest. Her hands trembled, her arms ached, but she forced herself to stay upright. This attack would be devastating, she could feel it.

  Focus! She closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. The faint, flickering glow of her own lifeforce enveloped her battered form.

  Bors raised his greatsword high, the blade gleaming with Vistra. Then, with a swift, forceful swing, a razor-sharp arc of Vistra cut through the air, racing toward Nailah at blistering speed. “Tundra Style: Ice Slasher!”

  Nailah’s eyes snapped open, now glowing an eerie blue. Her fingers twitched, strings forming a protective cocoon around her. “Sanguine Cocoon Sanctuary!” she cried out.

  The slash met the crimson webbing in an explosion of force. Crackling energy sparked around them as the cocoon absorbed the impact, but it wasn’t enough. Fractures formed in the barrier, growing wider with each passing second.

  No… No! Nailah pushed harder as she wove new strings, desperately trying to mend the barrier, but that only bought her fragile moments of resistance as the structure shattered under the relentless force. The attack tore through.

  The impact erupted in a blast of Vistra and dust, the force ripping through the night as the wind carried the haze down the length of the speeding train.

  Bors smirked, certain of his victory, while Zeke’s stomach twisted with dread. "Nailah…!" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

  That attack wasn’t just powerful—it was meant to kill. He wasn’t wondering if she had survived, but whether anything of her remained at all.

  As the dust and smoke streamed away into the rushing wind, shock hit Zeke a second time, this time laced with relief. Bors, on the other hand, was frozen in disbelief.

  Nailah was still standing.

  Barely.

  Nailah’s arms stretched out in front of her, shaking with the strain. Her sleeves were torn, revealing deep cuts. But between her fingers, glowing strings remained. A last defense. A web of scarlet strands held strong, the only thing stopping her defeat.

  “How is this possible?” Bors muttered, his smirk fading into a look of grudging respect.

  Nailah had reached her limit. She had used up almost all her blood and vistra to block Bors' attack, and now she collapsed to her knees, drained and barely holding on. Realizing the fight was over, Bors sighed, regaining his composure while resting his sword against his shoulder once more. “Well… It doesn’t matter. You can’t move anymore.”

  He strode toward her, his boots clicking against the metal floor. “I acknowledge your strength, but this is the end for you.”

  From the ground, Zeke crawled toward her and whispered hoarsely, “Psst! Naine! Let’s forget about the gold, let’s take Harlow and run!”

  But Nailah didn’t look at him. Her eyes remained locked on Bors, her jaw clenched. She didn’t care about his words—if anything, though she didn’t show it, she was disappointed. She had expected more from him and Harlow.

  But none of that mattered at this moment. Right now, all she cared about was finding an opening, a way to turn this fight around before it was too late. “I’ve got bigger things to do! If you want to crawl back to that slum, go! But don’t expect me to follow!”

  Zeke flinched at her words, something clicking into place in his mind. So, it wasn’t just strength behind her power… it was drive.

  Bors finally stopped before her, towering over her kneeling form. “It’s over…”

  Nailah met his gaze, her icy blue eyes burning with defiance.

  Then, slowly, she forced herself to stand.

  Her legs wobbled, her body screamed in protest, but she refused to fall. She clenched her fists, lifting her chin with unshaken pride. “I’m not dying here… and don’t you dare look down on me.”

  Bors let out a short laugh. “You’re one prideful witch.”

  Nailah gritted her teeth. Move! Move! She willed her body to respond, but her limbs felt like lead.

  Bors sighed, shaking his head. “Ridiculous.” His grip on his sword tightened, preparing to end it. He swung.

  Then, in a blur of movement, two figures shot forward.

  A loud crack echoed through the train as Zeke’s fist smashed into Bors’ face, sending the knight staggering back. At the same time, Harlow’s foot connected with his stomach, forcing him back even further.

  Bors barely managed to catch his footing, his eyes narrowing as he faced his new attackers.

  Zeke and Harlow stood in front of Nailah, shoulders squared, their posture firm with determination.

  Harlow stretched her arms, cracking her knuckles with a smirk. “That felt good.”

  Zeke grinned. “You’re right! We’re leaving here with the gold!”

  Nailah blinked at them in shock. “You guys…?”

  Then she felt it. The air around them had shifted. She could see the Vistra surrounding their bodies, flowing like mist, an aura swirling around them.

  Wait… She stared at them, realization dawning. They’ve awakened their Vistra… How?!