The tunnel's end crept into view as they charged forward. Lyric maintained her position in the front, covering her own flanks, while Kyoya prevented any assault from the rear.

"Seraphim, what's the plan when we break through?"

"Just don't give them any room—the sooner we face up, the less time they have to keep us bottlenecked!"

The Miscreant nodded and kept up his pace. With the passage's end, they made it through their home stretch and burst out of the grove's exit. They'd run onto a grassy beachfront, vacant for all but seagulls, merrily hopping about the sandbar.

That same silence followed them out, strewn overhead just as the trees had before. However, it was soon erased, as a silhouette emerged from the forest's edge.

Almost too leisurely, a glimpse of red was the first to unmask itself.

This article was quickly identified as cloth, accompanied by metal equipment of a similar hue. Finally, their form was revealed to be that of a black-haired woman. Her toned frame and minimalist armor completely explained how pursuit through thick foliage was so easily manageable.

However, the massive sword that was slung onto her back immediately betrayed that notion.

The enormous gray and maroon claymore easily outshone even Altar's wingspan. If that weren't enough, it possessed a width fit to eclipse that of any broadsword. Inscribed onto both the hilt and blade were roman numerals, counting up to at least 500.

She stood comfortably above Kyoya's height, likely around 6'4", with hair straight and flowing to roughly her shoulders. Her apparent age he projected well into the twenties. In spite of that, though, a permanent expression of disgust seemed etched into her face.

Her dagger-sharp, mint-hued eyes cast an especially foul glare at Lyric. The Seraph in question gladly returned the gesture.

Kyoya, however, found a similar disgust in the particular form of red that adorned her equipment.

It was a loathsome, unjustifiable crimson, baring mocking fangs at his very soul. A sadistic hue—one which he'd come to condemn to the title of vermilion.

"To think that you'd not only survive my ruse but destroy it? Such a troublesome pair you've turned out to be."

Her voice was completely and utterly arid, devoid of any emotion that wasn't contempt.

However, elation found her upon finally passing a glance to Kyoya. "My, my... If one of you is who I believe you are," she began, completely shifting gear after staring daggers at the both of them. "What a lovely coincidence!"

A vicious bliss soon overwrote the woman's prior disinterest. Unruly trepidation took up residence amongst her stare.

"The introduction's a while past overdue, lady!" Lyric rose from her stance, but she buckled to the ground after a single step. "Wait, what in the...?" She was straining against something—something that was somehow keeping her from moving.

"Could... could it have been the wires?" Thought the Miscreant. Cursing under his breath, and now forced to divide his attention, Kyoya glared back at the opposition. "Well?"

"Leyenda Asesina Vali: bounty hunter and executioner, named the Wandering Guillotine. What a privileged occasion it is to meet you both, Lyric Seraphim and Kyoya Miskrit." She stood valiantly before them, almost as if knowing that they were far past any fighting shape.

There was no denying it, either.

Lyric's condition was deteriorating by the second; even holding herself up was a visible struggle. They were surrounded by water, save for the only exite route, which was completely blocked by the enemy.

"Going back through the forest is gonna be impossible if I have to carry her, and we're the only ones out here for a good mile..." Kyoya grimaced at the odds of this sudden plight. They were stacked, high and mightily, and completely against them.

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"A shame that you made such quick work of the trap before it could afflict you both—it would've spared us all a great deal of trouble."

Inch by grueling inch, the Seraph pulled herself to a sitting position.

"I-... hate to do this to you, Blue, but she's right... I can hardly move—!"

"I'll buy time. Just try to get your feel back," Kyoya whispered after crouching down to her level.

He found himself staring back at Leyenda once again, a blistering lump forming at the back of his throat; it was an all-too-familiar feeling. "Bounty hunter, huh? What're you doing looking for jobs like that in the capital?"

That expression of disgust shone through for a moment. She tilted her head like an instructor who was making a conscious effort to entertain the gall of her students.

"The setting is irrelevant, given the price on this particular endeavor." From the pocket of her shirt, she retrieved a folded sheet of paper. A tattered, yellow canvas, that once she'd unfolded and faced toward them made his stomach drop in turn. "The ruler of Teleo is awfully frugal with his spending, but I could never be one to complain; his business is always most valued."

A sudden, obscene urge overran the boy's instincts.

"The what?"

Crookedness flowed into the Executioner's glare.

"The ruler of Teleo," she repeated, sporting something of a mocking smirk. "I would certainly hope you haven't forgotten—your list of crimes goes on for an awful while."

His focus had to be divided once more to prevent himself from being thrown into a reckless assault. Losing composure here would cost plenty more than a few bumps and bruises.

"Crimes!?" Kyoya snapped. "Don't tell me he's going around saying—"

"Saying what?" A shrug followed her question, as well as a few steps forward. "Saying that his own pupil, who he nearly threw his life away to preserve, who he forgave for calling Demons to his own home, who fled in shame after conspiring with the Denizen..." Another crooked grin formed on her face.

"Blue?" stammered Lyric. "What's she talking about?"

"She's throwing bullshit—!"

Leyenda raised her blade, pointing its cruel iron dead at him.

"I would recommend managing your tone," Leyenda frowned and took several more steps forward. "Were your ally not here to complicate the matter, you would have fallen where you stand."

Suddenly he couldn't move in response.

Kyoya stood rooted in place before the Seraph. Right in tow, her expression plummeted upon the realization of something else being amiss. "I believe you're sorely mistaken," announced the woman, taking a sharp look at Lyric. "Frankly, those accusations don't concern me. I'm merely here to collect."

She cracked that vicious scowl once more. "Don't make yourself into an obstacle, and I can guarantee your safety."

Through whatever affliction was rooting him, he stood his ground.

"I'll allow time for your last words once we've finished. Enthrall."

Leyenda locked eyes with him, and in that instant, a blitzing jolt knocked him to a kneel. "Now, it may be in poor taste, but I'd like to know—just what could drive someone to such depravity?"

It had come and gone in an instant. Without so much as a second thought, Kyoya wrenched himself from his position in front of Lyric. He stood sidelined as the enemy cast a predatory leer over him.

"...B-Blue? Hey!"

Words found their way to his mouth, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. He was left to mouth hollowed replies that would never reach her.

"A closely-held secret, then?" she sighed. "Of course, I should've figured you wouldn't let go of such a thing without any convincing."

She stepped to the side and drew her blade from its oversized scabbard. A weapon of such weight, and she only used one arm to hold its shearing edge over the immobile Seraph. "I'd certainly rather not jeopardize the Hope..." Her words sauntered off into the beachfront. "...but I'm just so curious. How far would I have to go before you relented your knowledge of the Mad God?"

She glanced back to the petrified Miscreant, only his eyes capable of their own action. "...What a thrill."

Lyric had finally begun to find her feet. However, she stood feeble and trembling, looking as though so little as a breeze could put her back on the ground.

"I don't know what you did to my partner, but... we're not your everyday—"

"Oh, spare me." Leyenda raised a foot and kicked Lyric square in the chest.

Any breath was knocked clean out of her. The girl was sent right back to the dirt from which she'd worked so tirelessly to rise. "I believe this concludes the introduction you requested."

Even like this, the Seraph's determination seemed boundless. Clutching her torso, the sparks and static of her signature aura flared in and out of being. Yet, Kyoya struggled to even clench his fist.

The reality of their difference in strength had never been so apparent.