"Good, good!" She trills, dancing back and away from me. "Was that what killed the minotaur, my dear apprentice?" Six more threads join the fray, lashing out from her hands. Some fly in a curved path towards me, while others dive straight ahead. Unfortunately, I'm beginning to have some respect for the Pioneer of Savagery.

Using [Barrier] to block the threads sounds dangerous, there's no telling whether or not they'll just cut through the things. Deflecting the threads is out of the question - they could tangle around the dagger if I don't cut through them, and I'm not exactly an aura practic-...

What is aura?

I've seen Adeline use it briefly, and I experienced it rather intimately when it came to Josephine. I know the answer - it's energy. Similar to mana, but different. How does it work, then? How can House Cirix harness their energy in order to sharpen their blades and douse them in flames? For the fire, I doubt they're doing anything as needlessly complex as my own spell, and for the sharpness...

I duck down, a thread silently cutting over my head. No, don't get caught up in the details! You've seen it, felt it. You just need to replicate the things that you've experienced, and you've done that more than enough times by now, haven't you? With a sharp breath, I guide some mana up my arm, through my hand, entwining it around Tanascáil.

Just as I sidestep another of those wicked threads, I let the energy concentrate in the dagger's blade, resting at its edges and solidifying. Not just adding to the structure, but honing and sharpening what was there. I had done something similar before, when I unlocked [Mend Wounds]. I used my mana in a way that defied all logic, but it made just enough sense for it to work.

Don't tell me that's all it takes...

Tanascáil glows a brilliant royal blue, flickering as it catches the light. I can hear that familiar chime and see that unearthly box.

[Congratulations! A skill has been unlocked: Enhance Weapon]

It worked. It worked! If my master wasn't trying to turn me into a dozen pieces, I would read the description. But if all goes according to plan, those threads shouldn't be a problem anymore.

Still, it takes an immense amount of faith in yourself, and others, in order to take a swing at a spell that you know was capable of beheading a Pioneer that killed more than a few others. I trust Cairbre immensely, especially his work - the blade may have very well been sharp enough on its own to cut through her threads. I mostly trust in my spellwork, if only because my trick of mana seems to have been acknowledged as legitimate. But still, as a thread barrels toward me, it takes a great deal of convincing for me to attempt to sever it.

[Aesthesia] aids me, and I know exactly where to strike, as if that thread were just another of my limbs. Tanascáil flies through the air, glittering blue and purple as it's ferried along a short thread of [Telekinesis]. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, my body lighter as it prepares itself to deal with the consequences.

And then, the thread is cut. The energy its composed of dispels, and I very nearly shout in my excitement. My dagger hangs loosely in the air, staying close to me. Fortunately, it seems as if the enchantment lasts for a little while. Guided by my magic, it should be able to stop any thread that strays within the radius of [Aesthesia]. So long as they don't get faster, of course.

I continue making a break for my master, Tanascáil cutting down any errant threads that dare to encroach on that circle around me. She seems lost in thought, even as she's continually hopping back away from me.

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"You have a strange way of fighting." She finally says, "I don't mean that in a bad way, of course! No, I would think it'd give you quite the advantage against awakened who don't know any better." She clears her throat, and then smiles. "I wasn't left with much, but I'm going to have to give it all that I've got to defeat you. I understand how you did so well against Josephine, now."

She slams her foot against the grass below her, crushing a few different flowers with her boot. Mana flows out from her, sinking into the earth. She's casting some sort of spell, but she's left herself open.

She'll expect me to attack now, but that's no reason to stop.

I push myself harder, making it my first priority to close the distance between us. I can practically feel the dagger vibrating in the grasp of [Telekinesis], waiting to bear down on any sudden attacks. Mana has seeped into every part of my body, lingering in my skin in order to cast a spell from anywhere, at any given moment. From what I could tell, my master was limited by her limbs - forced to cast through her hands (and sometimes her feet, it would seem.)

The energy in the ground is growing at an alarming rate, and I can only assume that she's casting some sort of ritual. Besides running away, though, my only solution is to put an end to her before the spell activates.

I could wait until she's within the range of [Aesthesia], but I need to be ready to make my move as soon as she is. Before then, I need to expend her defenses - more than anything, I can't have her ready to intercept my attacks with [Barrier] or some other trick up her sleeve. Before long, she's close, just outside of the range of my enhanced senses.

Lifting a finger, I send a bolt of energy flying toward her chest - [Energy Missile]. A moment later, sparks fly as it's stopped harmlessly by one of her barriers. I can feel the remnants of that magical shield finally fading away as she enters the radius of [Aesthesia]. Tanascáil soars toward its target, and I lift both of my hands - firing off [Forcethorn Burst] from either one of them, both aimed to her left and right. If she dodges to the sides, one of them will meet their mark.

My vision blurs a little, and I very nearly stagger from the loss of mana. Pressing on, I continue my charge toward her. If I land a blow point-blank, there won't be a thing in this world that she can do to stop my skill.

Instead of dodging, as I had expected her to - or even blocking, for that matter - my master claps both of her hands together. A ripple of energy rings out, coursing through the earth for about ten meters in any direction. I can't quite make out what's been done, but something has happened. Something is happening.

A moment later, a barrier appears in front of Tanascáil - about the same size as I can make mine on the smallest end. To my own shock, the dagger pierces right through without an issue. My master clicks her tongue, twisting her body and then groaning as the dagger pierces into her chest. It missed its mark - striking between her ribs rather than into her heart.

"Seems I've a penchant for being stabbed here." She laughs, coughing a second afterward. My master raises a hand, just as I finally reach her.

I know the reality of battle against a spellcaster. Those aren't hands, they're weapons.

One of my hands grips down firmly on Tanascáil, the other quickly snatching her wrist. For just a moment, I allow myself the luxury of directly using my skills. Without having to manipulate the mana myself, without having to guide and direct every single detail.

[Flame Generation]

The mana stems from Tanascáil, flames bursting out from the blade just as water seeps up from the ground below. I pull against her, tugging with the dagger to drag it up even as fire spews into her body. Her flesh tears readily, the searing stench of fabric and flesh nearly enough to send me sprawling onto my back. There is nothing that a blade is incapable of desecrating, and even my master's own body feels no different from the monsters I've slain.

Why isn't it different? Why doesn't it feel different?

It's a thought that's beyond sickening.

Everything catches up with me, then and there.

I lost myself in that haze of violence and excitement, and brought myself to cut into the flesh and bone of someone important to me.

A specter, a scrap - that's what she called herself, but does that matter?

I think that I can feel hot tears rolling down my cheeks, I think that I might have stopped standing.

I think that I may have made a mistake.