The moment the boulder hit, a plume of ice and snow erupted skyward, momentarily masking Reika in a blizzard of debris.
But she wasn't dead.
Through the haze, a flash of movement—her silhouette sliding across the ground, katana digging into the ice to slow her momentum. Her body ached, ribs screaming from the near-miss, but she forced herself up. No time to breathe.
Another Shikiban leapt from behind the wall—this one slimmer, female, with long hair that shimmered like icicles under the pale light. No words, no smirk, just cold focus. Her hands lifted, and dozens of spears formed midair in an instant.
Reika's heart pounded. Her body moved on instinct, dashing left as the first wave came.
SHH-SHH-SHHK!
The spears drilled into the ground behind her, ice shattering like glass as she zig-zagged forward, boots slipping but never falling. A surge of pressure built around her as she ducked under the final barrage. Her blade screamed from its sheath, cutting a path upward—metal met spear with a jarring CLANG, the impact vibrating down to her bones.
But she didn't stop.
She threw herself into the air, twisting her body mid-leap. The male Shikiban returned—his footwork fast, sharp, grounded like a martial artist. He caught her in midair with a single strike to the stomach—THUD—and sent her spiraling.
She crashed. Again.
Skidding on her back, Reika rolled until she hit a mound of snow. She gasped for air, coughing blood into her glove. Her vision wavered, but she still had her sword. That mattered.
She wiped her mouth, planting the blade into the ground to steady herself.
"You're trying too hard," the male Shikiban called out, his tone casual—like he wasn't even trying. "We're built to kill. You're built to die."
Reika didn't respond. She stood.
Even when the pain numbed her legs, even when her fingers barely gripped the hilt, she stood.
Meanwhile, the trio faced their own nightmare.
Daigo, Ishigo, and Yeaga were moving—no longer walking, but running, boots slamming into the ice with each step as the three figures behind them closed in.
The Kageshiki weren't running—they were gliding. Shadows moving in silence. Each one different—one tall with blades instead of hands, another hunched over like a broken doll, and the third… a child-like shape with pitch-black eyes and a twitching smile.
"They're playing with us," Daigo snapped, not turning his head, scanning the terrain ahead. "Don't stop moving."
Ishigo was barely keeping up, the terror in his chest mixing with something darker—self-hatred. Every time he stumbled, Yeaga reached out to steady him, and every time, Ishigo flinched like dead weight.
"This is wrong," Ishigo muttered through chattering teeth. "We should've never come here. We weren't ready for this."
"No one's ready," Daigo replied coldly, eyes narrowing as he spotted a jagged ridge ahead. "But we adapt, or we get left behind."
Suddenly, the hunched Kageshiki behind them shrieked—a horrible, scraping sound like metal grinding against bone. It leapt.
WHUMP!
It landed behind Yeaga, fast—too fast.
Yeaga spun just in time, swinging his axe in a wide arc. The creature ducked low, skidding across the ice on all fours like an insect. It reached for him with elongated fingers.
CLANG!
Daigo intervened. His blade struck down like thunder, forcing the thing back. Its arm flew off in a mist of black blood, but it didn't scream—it just smiled wider.
"Keep your guard up!" Daigo barked, already turning to face the others. "They don't feel pain!"
The child-like Kageshiki appeared right in front of Ishigo.
Too fast.
Its eyes locked with his—and for a moment, Ishigo felt like he was drowning. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Just the sound of his heartbeat—thump-thump-thump—echoing in a vacuum of terror.
Then Yeaga slammed into it from the side, taking both himself and the creature into a heap of snow. They rolled, and Yeaga slammed his fist into its face again and again until the skin broke like thin porcelain.
He stood, bloodied and shaking. "They can die. Not easily. But they can."
Daigo nodded slightly. "Then we fight."
The moment was cut short.
The tall Shikiban—the one with blade arms—descended like a shadow. With one clean motion, it swiped horizontally, forcing all three of them to dive in different directions.
CLANK—SKRRR!
The blade hit Daigo's shoulder but didn't dig deep—his coat took the brunt. He retaliated instantly, pivoting and stabbing forward.
The Shikiban parried with its arm, twisting unnaturally. Steel clashed with steel again and again—Daigo didn't flinch. His expression was pure calm, focused calculation as his movements blurred—strike, counter, spin, feint.
But even he was sweating now.
"They're not low-level," he muttered under his breath. "These are elite Shikiban. Maybe Level 4-grade."
Ishigo heard that and almost lost his mind. "Level 4?!" he shouted. "We're dead! We're actually going to die here!"
Daigo ignored him. "Yeaga. You keep the thin one off us. Ishigo, follow my lead—if you run again, you're dead. Understand?"
Ishigo's legs trembled, but he nodded. He had no choice.
And then—everything broke into chaos.
Back with Reika, the second round had begun.
The female Shikiban raised both arms. Behind her, dozens of hovering hexagons of frost materialized, each a glowing sigil. They rotated in place, humming with raw power.
"She's casting something," Reika muttered, low to herself. Her grip tightened.
She dashed forward, forcing her aching body to comply. Her blade carved through the mist, but the Shikiban was ready.
The sigils ignited. From each, a blast of razor-sharp wind shot out, faster than sound.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
Reika deflected one, rolled past the next, but the third clipped her leg.
She collapsed with a scream, the limb freezing over with instant frostbite.
"DAMN IT!"
She bit down on her lip so hard it bled, but she didn't scream again. She stood. Limped forward.
"Still moving?" the male Shikiban asked, stepping forward now, intrigued.
Reika smiled through the pain. "Your mistake... was not killing me the first time."
With a roar, she lunged again.
The battle wasn't over. It had just begun.