Shakily, Lyric rose to her feet a second time, with wisps of thunder accompanying her ascent. The enemy found an abhorrent humor in her determination; Leyenda had cracked devilish grin.

"I would advise against resisting further. An executioner has no right to inflict unjust pain—"

"Put a sock in it! I'm not goin' down 'til—!"

Before Lyric could even finish her sentence, their opponent dashed forward. With brutal precision, she landed a wicked forearm strike in the same place her target was kicked moments before. Once more, the girl was sent tumbling into the earth.

"I wasn't finished."

Still, Kyoya was screaming in agonizing silence. The Miscreant had been condemned to helplessly spectate what could only lead to the completion of Leyenda's objective.

Lyric lay motionless outside of breathing for a moment... but she was soon forcing herself back up with a single free arm yet again. "Your persistence is utterly revolting, Hope."

She walked to the girl's front and knelt down, then held her up by a fistful of hair. Lyric's hands gripped the woman's arm as tightly as they could manage, but no amount of struggling seemed to bring about a result.

The desperation in Lyric's grasp, nearly held off the ground by a remorseless foe...

Kyoya's thousand-yard stare took in every last detail.

His palms throbbed in aching pain; he saw himself desperately prying Oberon's vice from around his neck. His heart's pulse had become explosive, fueled by concentrated adrenaline.

"I've been out of that hell hole for five years!" He was the only audience to his words, and yet they were callous enough to have been roars of defiance. "How did somebody like her catch up so fast—!?"

Gravity began to weigh even heavier on his back; it had become a colossal burden, far too sudden to shoulder. The force broke his stance to waver even further, but against it, his resistance continued. "I didn't drag myself out of Teleo just to get cleaned up by a hired gun!"

The Miscreant didn't even notice his hands slowly curling into fists. It was a crackling sensation that gave him the first clue he was nearing a breaking point.

The Seraph's eyes found him as he slowly regained feeling. Soon, a resentful fury started to cloud any presence of reason. His vision grew fogged—a pulsing haze of deepened blue actively prevented clear sight.

All he could sense was indescribable ire—complete and total outrage—toward she who would dare give them the illusion of a fighting chance.

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"You bitch."

One hand broke free after the first. Then came his torso, and after that, his legs. Any remnants of energy he had were burned away in his escape... and yet, even through the brutal fatigue, his heart managed to race far faster than before.

In suit, the meager azure aura flickered back to life.

Kyoya stood as though he hadn't a drop of life left in him; his once-steady stance now rocked and swayed in the gentle wind. It would've taken no more than a gentle nudge to topple him over...

However, it was the presence of his blistering identity that made any and all aware of the opposite. At last, fiery claws enveloped the boy's hands as his defiance took form. His eyes gleamed their radiant cyan in response to the beacon of crimson tyranny before him.

During the duel, his flame burned in a fashion far more refined. It was uniform, keened by practice and experience... Now, though, it roared with something like reckless abandon—a stark, searing contrast. This blaze was completely untamed; it danced in tandem with a smoldering serenade that sought only to sate this newfound fury.

Lyric's stare quickly fell upon him again. The shift prompted the enemy to pass a glance behind them.

Of course, this was much too late a reaction.

Kyoya's limit had finally been exceeded. With a breakneck dash-step, he threw his fist into Leyenda's form. She let loose a gasp; the shock on her face nearly startled the Miscreant out of his charge, but determination kept him on target.

She was forced to release his partner and bring her sword into a blocking stance. Even managing to endure the blow, she still saw herself on the receiving end of a shockwave—one that nearly blew her away. Kyoya shook out his newly bruised knuckles and stared something vicious at the enemy.

A savage crack, running straight through the weapon's center, had been carved into the blade.

"Perhaps there was some weight to the rumors, after all," Leyenda huffed. She rose from her kneeling block and cracked a crooked sneer. "I simply cannot recall the last time I was taken by surprise."

The target of her stupor didn't even offer her the courtesy of a reply. He barely stood upright; a wavering mix of desperation and contempt was the only thing keeping his feet kept on the ground. Soon, they locked eyes once again.

She looked down upon him with a cruel curiosity; it was one far too insincere for his liking. In return, he cast a glare fit to defy even a hundred enemies' stares.

Lyric finally found her full height. She, too, suffered from a terribly feeble stance; even staying on her feet was visibly taxing. Before she could walk toward their target, hesitation found its place in her demeanor.

She cornered a glance to the Miscreant. Together, they sent a look of mutual readiness back and forth.

For whatever reason, Leyenda jabbed her sword into the ground and leaned on it. She stood in mocking relaxation while the pair made their exchange.

"Blue, I'll be fine—but I'm in no shape to scrap. Mind playing the hero for a bit?"

Kyoya's reply was delayed, awfully slackened, but determined nonetheless.

"You've bailed me out once already; it's only right that I return the favor."

Before the pair could offer one another anything more, the Executioner knocked on her blade's metal. It wrenched their attention to her, front and center.

"Right, then, Reclaimers," she announced, "I hope you've settled your matters." One arm tore the broadsword from its earthen sheathe as she entered a ready stance. "Unfortunatlely, you've exhausted my patience."