Siffa breathed in the clean, humid air of Route 212, eyes closed and a look of pure satisfaction on her face. The day was sunny. The Starly were singing. The constant, rushing sound of waterfalls on the right side of the valley eased her mind into a peaceful lull, leaving her body on autopilot as she walked.

To her it was a beautiful day, for all the reasons that Shadi despised it. The pale girl walked ahead of her with hands in her pockets and a rushed pace that made it clear she wanted to reach the next town as soon as possible. However, It was hard to determine if the sour look on her face was due to the hot, humid climate or the unexpected companion still following them.

"This is what you two do all day, then?" asked Ciro, disinterestedly looking up at the sky. "One gawks at nature like it's her first day in this world and the other scurries to the embrace of civilization like a Koffing looking for a good spot to contaminate?"

Siffa chuckled. Shadi shot her an irritated glance as though she'd been the one to make the comment.

"At least one of you has a sense of humor," muttered Ciro. "Come on, Shadi, where's the wit you displayed during our previous battle? Well… wit might be a bit too generous a word, but…"

"I'm going to punch you in the nose," Shadi cut him off. Her voice was deep and firm, like ice. "Twice. Maybe three times. Whatever amount most appropriately represents the pleasure your company has given me these past few hours."

Ciro beamed at the comment and Siffa couldn't help but take in each little piece of his smile, saving it in her memory like gold inside a safe. Gods he was beautiful. That weather-beaten skin, those Hoennian features on his face, the long, stylish dreads reaching down to his shoulders and the bright smile he was always quick to draw, like a gunslinger with his weapon. Not to mention the way his glasses framed those green eyes of his. So vibrant, so full of energy. Nothing like Shadi's, though they were technically the same color. She supposed it was the difference between a lush jungle in summer and a still, frozen forest lake in winter. Siffa would have never said it out loud, but she knew which one she preferred between the two.

She'd never known men like him to be her type. Hell, she didn't even know she had a type until recently, but she guessed she had Shadi to thank for that. If she hadn't forced her to come along in her journey, if she hadn't promised a new life for her…

A new life…

Siffa's smile dropped. Her mind went blank.

Those memories aren't good for you, Shadi had told her. You're no longer the person they belonged to. If they ever try to come back, simply clear your mind and stop thinking. It's not a good solution. It won't fix you. Nothing will, but it's the best option you have.

And so she walked, unable to think, for as long as the memories tried to break into her. She was barely aware of the conversation occurring around her.

"See? I knew you had it in you."

Shadi made a sound that was always, without exception, accompanied by a roll of her eyes.

"Is that why you're still following us?" she asked. "Because I distinctly don't remember inviting you along, and my memory is quite good."

"Humble, are we? But yes, that is one of the reasons I decided to come along." He held the back of his head with his hands, smiling. "I've got a good feeling about you, Dawn. You've got the air of someone who's headed toward interesting places."

"Funny. All the air I'm getting for you is your horrid breath and a general air of irritation."

Ciro scrunched up his nose. "Meh. That was rather weak."

"I'm afraid this… hellish, humid, horrendous fucking route isn't bringing the best in me, so I apologize if I'm not being quite witty enough for you," Shadi spat out, a mix of sarcasm and anger in her voice. "Besides, if what you want is a constant conversation partner then you're barking up the wrong Trevenant. I'm not a sophist. Wit is a tool, one I'd rather use when the time calls for it, not whenever I'm bored and I want to flex my rhetoric muscles at someone."

"I see…"

Siffa came back to herself. She shook her head a bit and looked around as subtly as she could. How much time had passed? Couldn't be much. That one waterfall in the distance was only marginally closer.

"You said I was one of the reasons you decided to come along," said Shadi. "What is the other?"

Shit, what had the first one been? Siffa furrowed her brow, silently cursing her brief episodes of mind blankness. Normally they weren't that much of a problem. When she was with someone other than Shadi, however, they interfered pretty strongly with her ability to carry a conversation.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Ciro. "You fashion yourself a smart woman, Shadi. Give me your best guess."

Shadi stopped walking, forcing them to do the same. She stared ahead with her hands still in her pockets, a deathly serious look on her face.

"You're an assassin."

The casual mood completely shattered. For the first time since they'd known him, Ciro looked completely out of words, as though someone had dumped a bucket of water on him. Siffa's face wasn't much different.

"What?" she asked, voice thin. "Are you serious? Is he…?"

Like me?

Her mind threatened to go blank again but she fought against it, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached. Not now. She had to know…

"I've been rising to the League challenge quite spectacularly. Too much so, in fact." Shadi spoke without cadence or emotion. Her voice was truth and fact. "I haven't lost a single Gym match since I started my journey. A troubling fact, for those in power. I wouldn't be surprised if the Champion, or someone close to her, deemed my skills too dangerous, my expertise in Pokemon training too threatening. I'm sure the Champion doesn't wish to give up her title after such a long time holding it, and if I do end up reaching her…" A minuscule smile spread through her lips. "Then her defeat will be but a formality."

Ciro looked at her with a strange expression, a mix of interest and… pity? Was she seeing that right?

"You… have a rather high opinion of yourself, don't you?" His lips became a pale line. "I'm not sure if I find it admirable or just pathetic."

Shadi looked as though she hadn't heard that. "I'll have you know that Ludwig has already zoned in on your mind waves. Show any sort of killing intent and Midir will swoop in from the sky and gobble you up before you can say anything else witty." She looked over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Go on. Seriously, you being an assassin will give me the perfect excuse to get rid of you."

Her face showed a smile, but even Ciro noticed this was but a mask. Siffa didn't see him shake. However, she could feel the shiver that ran down his spine because she –and many others after her– had been in his spot before. That was the thing with Shadi. By the time you figured out just how in over your head you were, it was already too late.

A sudden cold set in Siffa's stomach. She gulped, whipping around to face Shadi, an odd determination overtaking her.

Not him, she thought, eyes flashing like a storm. Not like...

"He's not an assassin," she said, her voice more confident than she herself was. "I…"

I'd know, wouldn't I?

Her mind tried to go blank again, threatened by memories that would surely shatter the new her. She resisted. She would not give in.

Shadi turned her head, regarding her with a look like that of a Noctowl eyeing a Rattata from high above. Gods, her gaze was chilling.

"You're… serious." Ciro's chest rose as though he were about to chuckle, but he simply spat out a gulp of air. "You really think you're worth the trouble of being assassinated? You?"

A thin line stretched across Shadi's face. Some would have called it a smile. Siffa knew better.

"I would rather be alive and cocky than dead and humble. I'm sure you agree."

Ciro nodded, though the motion seemed unconscious. His eyes were still narrowed, as though he were considering if it was wise to turn around and hightail it as fast as humanly possible. The possibility slid down Siffa's throat and set in her stomach like a swallowed piece of Grimer.

"You…" He formed another one of his easy smiles, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Are one hell of a conceited woman. Now I know following you two isn't a mistake."

Shadi chuckled. She turned to Siffa.

"I'll trust your judgment," she told her. "If he slits my throat in my sleep, you're taking responsibility."

Siffa felt herself smile, a gesture that very few times came naturally to her. A weight had lifted off her shoulders.

"Welcome to the group, then," she said, beaming at Ciro. "Don't fall behind and make sure to keep your wits about you, since Shadi's too full of hers to help you carry any of yours."

"Ha! That was better than anything this sad sack has come up with so far." He glanced at Shadi, laughter clear in his expression. Siffa loved how it looked on him. "You should speak more. Your voice is like sweet ambrosia compared to the sound of Meowth nails on a chalkboard that comes out of this one's mouth."

Oh, gods. She was falling, and falling hard. That was bad, for no particular reason she could think of, but still she felt it in her stomach. Her instincts hadn't ever failed her.

Except for that one time, she thought, hopeful. Maybe…

Shadi sighed. "I thought you said I was one of the reasons you decided to tag along?"

"Yes, well. We all need variety in our lives, don't we? You're amusing in small doses because you remind me of myself, but that's exactly the problem." He shrugged. "If I had to live with another myself all day I'd either go insane or murder the other one. Or both of us. Siffa's company is much more preferable for the moment to moment."

"Hm." Shadi looked up, seemingly lost in thought. "I feel the opposite. If only the world would be full of people like me. Maybe humanity could get stuff done for once."

"Now that's a nightmare right there. An entire world full of you? I shudder to consider it."

"Hm." Shadi nodded absentmindedly. "Well, then? What's the second reason?"

Ciro said nothing. Siffa glimpsed the shadow of a smile on his lips and a moment after he shot a quick glance at her. Nothing more than a look. Still, she could have sworn his right eye twitched in a gesture almost like a wink. She felt her heart flutter.

"You can't choose your heart's desire," he said, shrugging. "Make of that what you will."《

----------------------------------------

Mars smiled as a hundred Gardevoir materialized throughout the forest with a burst like that of a candlewick, wisps of psychic energy coating the outline of their bodies. Each of those pairs of eyes set on her. Red on red. Fitting, Mars thought, for what was to come.

"Simple illusions?" she asked, looking around, hands in her pockets. "Are you trying to lowball me, Asta?"

The short woman flashed her a cold smile, then burst into light, disappearing. Of course. That hadn't been her real body, merely an illusion. The real Asta was most likely hidden somewhere around, her form obscured and her voice carried from shade to shade by her Gardevoir's power.

"One does not use a sledgehammer against a simple nail." Asta's voice reverberated throughout the forest, as though coming from the air itself. "If you think yourself worthy of my full efforts, then prove it."

Mars raised her right arm to the sky, squinting as she stretched lazily. "Mhm? You're sounding a bit, ah… bitter there, no? Be honest. Is it about the murders? It's about the murders, isn't i–?"

All the Gardevoir moved in unison, cupping their hands in front of their chest, light bursting from every one of their pores. Mars stood still, expectant. A hundred swirling balls of pink energy the size of her head were thrown at her fast enough that she barely had a moment to react. She stilled her breathing, eyes forming in the back of her head and the tip of her shoulders, looking around frantically.

There.

She waited until the last possible moment, then transformed her legs into Hitmontop legs and jumped much more suddenly than she would have normally been able to, the real projectile missing her by a hair's width while the others phased through her. The explosion ruffled her hair as she vaulted back and caught herself on the thick branch of a tree with her foot, hanging upside down as a hail of gathered snow fell on her.

Ah. Ten for execution, but six for presentation I'd say.

"How did you know?"

Mars looked down –or up, from her perspective– and let go of the breath she'd been holding. "Shadows. Only one of those Moonblast was casting a real shadow; the rest just glowed for glowing's sake."

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

No response came, but she perfectly imagined the frown on Asta's face. True, that hadn't been all. Gardevoir could have easily made any of the fake attacks switch place with the real one by using Teleport, reason which she'd waited until the last possible moment to dodge. Mars knew that, and it appeared Asta knew that she knew, which meant that Mars knew that Asta knew that she knew and…

"Ugh… headache," she sighed. "Then again, that might be because I'm hanging upside down from a tree. Bad for blood circul–"

Even Mars couldn't help but shiver as every pair of eyes shot up toward her, lighting up with a malicious glow. She felt the attack in her stomach before she could see it. A thousand wisps of pink light spun in a spiral around her, ready to coalesce in a single point and unleash an implosion that would most likely cause her to burst from the inside out. Mars frowned. That wouldn't be a pleasant way to go.

The wisps converged. A pair of wings, black as night, burst from Mars' back, their feathers sharp enough to effortlessly cut a hole in her outfit. There was a burst of light and a flurry of wind and hail imploded from where she was, making the branches above shake violently.

Mars could almost hear the sigh in Asta's voice as the light dissipated yet she was still there, draped from head to toe in that impressive wingspan, covering her like a blanket.

"Mandibuzz wings," observed Asta, a hint of irritation in her voice. "You've gotten better, it seems. You've learned how to imbue the things you create with their intrinsic qualities, like type and their resistances and immunities?"

Despite Asta being the one who said that, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of pride at the comment. It'd been hard, yes. And wings like these were useless other than to shield against psychic attacks –her body too heavy for them to lift her up properly– but still she was glad she'd practiced so hard on making them. There was no real pride in her actions, no, but at the very least the expertise with which she carried them could bring her some amount of satisfaction.

She sucked the wings back into herself and let her foot slip, rolling in mid air before landing with ease. The glares of the Gardevoir were still set on her. Gods were those eyes creepy.

"You say I'm bitter," came Asta's words again, her tone careful and deliberate. "Not likely. Sure, getting out of prison after so long and finding out that my only regular employers were murdered by you was… a nasty surprise at first, but it did end up opening a much bigger window of opportunity soon after." Despite her being nowhere to be seen, Mars could tell she was shrugging. "You took my job from me, I took yours. We're even, as far as I'm concerned."

Mars cocked an eyebrow. "You've got an odd way of showing it."

"A job is a job," said Asta, matter of factly. "This is our way, Siffa. Just because we belonged to the same group, just because you were my pupil, it doesn't mean I'll take it easy on you when time comes to make ends meet."

The Gardevoir shifted again. Mars moved almost automatically, growing one of those black wings again and using it as a shield as a hail of psychic arrows pelted her like bullets.

"Agh… still, you're certainly enthusiastic about this assignment," Mars breathed out, wincing from the impact. "I'm pretty sure I heard you ignore your Poketch ringing a few times already."

There was a short, awkward silence. "Jupiter offered me three of her salaries in exchange for bringing her your head."

Mars couldn't help it. She let laughter rise from her stomach like steam from a kettle, and soon she had to place a hand against her face to stifle it.

"Classic Jupiter. So she is going through with what she promised me, eh? Gods I miss her." She shook her head, breathing out. "Anyway, that's all? Is money really your only motivation in hunting me so thoroughly?"

Another second of silence. Another second bought as Mars tried –as calmly as possible– to come up with a likely way to get out of this alive. All things considered, she probably should have done so when she had the time. Oh well, she'd always been a procrastinator anyway.

"…Of course," Asta finally said. "What other reason could I possibly have?"

Mars' grin widened.

"Oh I am so glad you asked." She clapped her hands, the cheeriness of her voice dissonant to the cruelty in her eyes. "Come here for a moment, will you? I have to show you something."

Asta's hesitation could be felt in the air, in the cold and stillness of the forest and the hundred red-eyed shades littering it, patiently waiting for an order. None came. The sound of snow crunching broke the silence, urging Mars to look up as a dark figure appeared from behind one of the trees at her right, bent and tilted by the sudden curving up of the terrain. Asta stood with one hand pressed against the tree trunk, what little sunlight was left outlining her figure and hiding her face in shadows.

Hook, line and sinker.

This wasn't the real Asta, of course, merely another illusion, but that didn't matter as long as the real one was watching.

"I knew you were tailing me from the beginning," said Mars, crossing her arms. "Not because I was paying attention, mind you. It was all thanks to you." She breathed out, shaking her head. "Have you gotten rusty after all those years in prison? Or was it something else?"

Asta said nothing. The Gardevoir twitched nervously in place, their postures telling her that they were ready to attack at a moment's notice.

"You weren't trying to follow me. You were trying to race me. Beat me to my destination. That's why you hung around in all the, let's say scenes of the crime, even after I left. You were searching for survivors."

Asta scoffed dismissively. "I was studying your methods. Crafting a strategy to…"

"You always wondered, didn't you?" Mars interrupted her. "You asked yourself 'Did she really kill them? There's no body, no signs of struggle, but still… they're gone'. You always harbored at least a little bit of hope. The hope I dangled in front of you like a carrot in a stick." She giggled, looking down at her hand as she played with her fingers. "And then I left that final little reminder for you in Solaceon, with the Galactic grunts. I made sure to be as brutal and to leave as much of a mess as possible. Just for you."

"Was that what you were trying to get across?" asked Asta, voice plain. "I didn't notice."

Mars looked up at her, a grin like a hook on her face. "They were your friends, weren't they?"

"Who?" Asta replied, too fast.

"Back then, I never finished the job. I killed the ones on top, the ones who came up with the idea to turn me and so many other kids into… this." She gesticulated toward herself. "But they weren't the only ones responsible, were they? They funded the project, yes, but they also had to look for people ruthless and qualified enough to train us. People who were skilled enough, but didn't care about the morality of their job as long as they were paid well." She glared at Asta. "You and your friends. Our tutors. You cared about them deeply."

A sudden gust of wind blew through the patch of forest they were in, the grinding sound of the branches as they bent not much different from what Mars imagined Asta grinding her teeth sounded like.

"There is only honor among thieves. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh." Mars made her eyes go wide, shoulders dropping. "Well, how silly of me, then. I guess I was wrong. I guess you won't care one bit to find out I killed every single one of them, then?"

"You're trying to upset me, to make me careless. It won't happen. And besides, as long as you don't have any proof…"

Mars dug into the folds of her jacket and pulled out a closed burlap bag the size of her palm, tied shut with string. Dark red stains accumulated at the bottom.

Asta let out a sound almost like a gasp. "You…"

"Have a look for yourself if you're not convinced."

The bag phased through a few of the fake Gardevoir as it flew, landing at the base of the mound fake Asta stood on. It opened on impact, dozens of small, oblong shapes scattering about in the snow in an unseen pattern, staining red the white under them. They were all roughly the same size. Some thicker, some paler, some with calluses on their tips colorful paint on their nails.

Asta looked down at the dozens of severed fingers and made a sound like stifling a gasp.

"Take your time. Look as carefully as you want," said Mars, hand still extended forward, a malicious gleam in her eyes. "Though if you were as close to them as I presume, I'm sure it'll take you no time to recognize each finger."

As Mars said that, she kept her body tense and her gaze alert, ready to move at a moment's notice. Any moment now…

The copies wavered, like static in a T.V, their eyes gleaming like blazing rubies. Asta's copy took a sudden step forward, a sharp intake of breath resounding through the air, and Mars allowed herself a satisfied smile. Hook, line and sinker indee–

They stopped. There was a second of silence and then the fake Asta vanished, leaving only the multitude of Gardevoir to keep her company. No attack came. Not one of them rushed forward. Mars' smile dropped.

"…Right. You almost had me there."

Mars reacted immediately as the flash of light came, but the attack wasn't aimed at her. The ground at the base of the mound exploded with light, sending splotches of dirt and snow in all directions, as well as the bag and fingers whose outlines were covered in psychic flames. A sharp pain shot through her.

Shit…

In an instant the fingers and bag transformed, losing their shape and turning a soft shade of pink as they retreated back into Mars' body with a slick, disgusting sound like a Grimer being sucked up by a storm drain. She grit her teeth and turned over her arm a bit, examining the parts that had been burned. Steam rose from her skin. It would take a while for it to regenerate.

Asta's voice filled the air. "You transformed some of Ditto's essence into the bag and each individual finger, tying them together with a thread that was the same color as the snow, so I wouldn't notice." Her voice was low and collected, like that of a professor examining her student's project. "With this, plus your goading, you intended me to lose control and order Gardevoir to attack you blindly. Once she got close enough to the bag and fingers, you'd transform them into spikes that would jut out of the ground and skewer her."

Sweat ran down Mar's face. She had to stop herself from swallowing.

"That's why you threw the bag so strongly too, so the fingers would scatter and cover as much ground as possible." There was a hint of respect in Asta's voice. "I admit, I expected much less from you. You've impressed me, Siffa."

Mars leered at where her fake body had previously been, her expression like broken glass. "I don't go by that name anymore."

"Oh, I doubt you'll be going by anything soon. But anyway, because you've impressed me so, I'll give you what you wanted and take this seriously. Sabrina…" The eyes of each Gardevoir gleamed crimson. "…Misty Terrain."

All the illusions vanished in a flash. The real Gardevoir stood at the top of the mound where the fake Asta had previously been, arms drawn to the side, looking down at Mars with a gaze like a red hot knife. She breathed in, then closed her eyes, and the wind stilled. Snow ceased to fall. When she let go of her breath, an entirely new blizzard swept down like a wave of mist crashing against the clearance they were in, tendrils of pale pink converging in spirals and joining one another until even the dark edges of the forest were completely covered.

Mars drew her arms back as they transformed into a pair of comically huge flat hands like those baseball fans made out of styrofoam, only much thicker and with only three fingers. With a grunt, she brought one of the Hariyama hands down. The mists parted in a straight line, then immediately reformed. Gritting her teeth, she spun on the ball of her feet and dragged the other hand in a circle, using every ounce of strength she had to dispel the mist re-forming around her.

Gardevoir didn't wait for her to finish. Her figure appeared as though from nowhere, hovering above Mars as she brought down a swirling ball of energy down on her head. Mars raised her free arm and transformed it back almost to normal, except now a round shield grew from her elbow to the back of her hand, golden and emblazoned with three circles in the shape of a nine in the center. The Moonblast exploded as soon as it came into contact, almost blowing the shield out of her hands. Mars gasped as the back of it crashed against her face, the power of the explosion burying the soles of her shoes a few inches into the snow. Gardevoir vaulted over the blast and readied another attack; sharp, jutting edges of psychic energy forming a blade around her arm, her body falling as elegantly as a feather.

The dizziness left Mars a moment late to react. She threw herself back but the tip of the psychic blade slid under her arm and cut into her side, a few inches above her chest. A trail of cloth and blood was left behind as she jumped away. Back into the mists. Mars swiped at the air once before her feet touched the ground but the small space it created for her was filled less than a second after by the semi-transparent pink tendrils, plunging her into the mists once more. It stuck to her like glue and the thickness of it made it almost impossible to see more than a few inches around her. Not to mention she was pretty sure that Gardevoir could perfectly sense anything that happened within the terrain her mists touched, which posed an additional problem.

Gardevoir wasted no time, jumping off the air itself as she lunged at her once more. Mars instinctively raised the shield but the psychic blade –and the rest of Gardevoir as well– phased through and burst into pink-ish smoke. She froze, then barely reacted as the real blade came from behind her. It grazed the skin under her shoulder and whistled past like an arrow, dissipating along with the rest of the Pokemon's body.

Mars took a sharp breath. Another few drops of blood fell to her feet, swallowed by the mist. She raised her shield again, eyes moving spastically all around, trying to get the barest glimpse of her foe as she flew through the air.

She could have sworn the first attack had been the real Gardevoir. So then she wasn't using the mist just to hide herself; they powered her up, too. Smaller illusions, but more powerful. Not to mention…

Another Moonblast came from above. Mars couldn't, in good conscience, say that she dodged it seeing as she tripped on the root of a tree and fell backwards as the attack exploded in between her feet. The sudden gust of wind helped her stand up; she landed on a small mound at her left, in between two thick pine trees. Almost ran into one of them, as a matter of fact. All because, though she was running, the mists around her didn't feel like they changed at all.

They're moving with me, she thought, smiling a tired smile. So I can't take this fight outside. Great.

"Teacher, I have a question!" she yelled as she moved about, trying to make herself sound calm. "What was I supposed to do when trapped inside a misty cloud with a demented murder-happy Gardevoir chasing me down? I know we covered that in the curriculum at some point!"

Her quip was most graciously rewarded with yet another shower of psychic arrows straight at her face. Mars threw herself to the side. She landed on the palm of her left hand and vaulted over right as Gardevoir materialized under her with a puff of light, her bladed arm slicing the air in an arc toward her wrist. With an exerting grunt, Mars kicked down and spun vertically, the heel of her shoe missing the back of the Pokemon's head by an instant as she blinked away once more.

Her feet touched the ground, leaving her momentarily out of balance. She heard something behind her and spun on the ball of her feet, a moment later realizing that it was simply Asta's voice.

"Didn't I teach you anything, Siffa?" She sounded almost disappointed. "I'm trying to kill you. The least you could do is respect me by taking that seriously."

Mars grinned, extending both arms to the side as they began to bubble and shift. "You said it yourself. It's very likely that you're about to kill me; why on earth would I give you the added satisfaction of watching me squirm and suffer?"

"Hm. A shame. I never was able to drill some of my teachings into you, it seems. Let's see if I can drill something else instead."

Mars heard a sound like whistling. A shift in the mist at her right, the mild glow of something long and sharp. She swiped at the air with her shield, but her eyes went wide as Gardevoir finally came into view; the psychic energy coating her arm was different, less curved and smooth, double edged and with a few spiked depressions at the side. A weapon for stabbing, not slicing.

She held firm, intending to block it. Gardevoir's eyes gleamed just before the impact. The mist coalesced in a spiral at the tip of the blade as though it were a vortex and Mars barely noticed its length disappearing into it before something pierced her from behind. Her face scrunched up in pain and she gasped, a bit of mist getting into her throat and burning her like it was poison. Vision blurred. Her squinted eyes caught another glimpse of movement. A second blade headed for her neck.

A wet, jutting mass of flesh sprouted from Mars' chest, dark and formless, and instinctively pushed against Gardevoir who had no choice but jump back, stopping her attack.

Mars staggered back, her shirt wide open in the middle and the pink mass of flesh retreating once more into her body. Each step was agony. Something… something on her back, beneath her ribs, felt cold and numb. Too painful, too searing. By now she was more than an expert when it came to pain, and knew well how to distinguish between a simple wound and a fatal one. Resigned, she held her breath and concentrated. Some of Ditto's mass stretched toward the wound, closing the skin and repairing the tissue of her pierced liver, imitating the organ's structure.

The pain faded, but some of the shock remained. As used as she was to bodily harm, being stabbed wasn't something you got used to no matter how many times it happened. She breathed in and out, weakly looking around for any more sudden movements in the mist.

"I've been informed…" Asta's voice sprouted from somewhere, directed at her. "…that you can instantly heal your wounds by using Ditto's mass. I was wondering why you hadn't done it the previous two times you were wounded, but I get it now. You were lying just before, weren't you?"

Mars tried to form a smile, though the muscles of her face didn't feel very cooperative at the moment. That cold bitch. She probably thought that Mars would only use Ditto to patch herself up when dealt a very serious injury, nothing less. That was good for her. Unfortunately, it also pissed her right the hell off. How dare she imply that she was taking this seriously?

"You can't beat me, Mars." Her voice was a command, but there was no pride or over-confidence in her voice. She simply stated facts. "I taught you every trick you know, and much more than that. Oh, but don't think I'm saying this as a way to get you to surrender. Please, do continue struggling. You'd disappoint me even more otherwise."

Mars glared at the mist in front of her, spitting to the side. "You weren't my only teacher."

"Yes, of course, that delusion of yours. You would rely on the teachings of a dead girl who betrayed you to beat me, Siffa? The teachings of the ghost of vengeance you so desperately chase?"

"I would rely on anything to win," she snapped back. "Anything but taking things seriously, of course."