The faint knock at the door hung in the air like a phantom.

  Zora tilted his head slightly, ears tuning out the low rumble of the train’s wheels and focusing on the subtle irregularities beyond the cabin. Kita, meanwhile, had gone as rigid as a stone pillar. Her muscles wound so tight he could hear the fabric of her gloves creak under the strain of her grip.

  “Calm yourself,” he murmured, “and be patient.”

  “But—”

  “I know,” he interrupted, twirling his wand between his fingers. “It’s not human. There’s no one else aboard this train but us, and yet…” He trailed off, tilting his head slightly to the right. “We don’t have to leap on it immediately.”

  Her breaths hitched. “How can you just sit there?” she hissed. “That thing spoke to us. It spoke. It… it has to be an Insect God.”

  Zora chuckled softly. “Perhaps.” Then he leaned back in his seat, tapping the table between them lightly with his wand. “But I’m not convinced. My hearing, precise though it is, doesn’t perform its best on a vehicle like this. The train’s speed, the wind, the vibrations… they muddle things. I suppose I don’t like being on fast-moving vehicles after all. You tell me, then: does the aura outside feel like that of an Insect God to you?”

  Kita stiffened further, her focus snapping to the door. He couldn’t see her, of course, but the way her breaths slowed told him she was deliberating, running the weight of the presence outside through her instincts.

  “…No,” she said finally, her voice quieter now. “It doesn’t feel like an Insect God. My common sense would probably be shutting down if I were faced with the killing pressure of one, right?”

  “Quite correct.”

  “But if it’s not an Insect God, how is it talking?”

  “I have a theory,” he said, a wry edge creeping into his tone. “Though let’s approach this slowly and logically. Between the two of us, I am a ‘mage’ better suited for the backlines. I would rather sling spells at my opponents from afar. You, on the other hand, are a frontline warrior, eager to get down in the dirt and mud… noble-blooded as you may be.” He thumbed at the door, smiling slowly. “That bug out there? Definitely a frontline fighter. So, what say I let you take the lead this time, and I’ll support you from behind?”

  He didn’t expect what came next—a sudden burst of pride radiating from her, almost palpable. She shot off her cushion and stood at attention, both hands clasped firmly around the hilt of her blades.

  “I’ll do it,” she said, sounding almost desperate as she gave him a bright, confident smile.

  Zora tilted his head again, the corners of his mouth quirking faintly. It suddenly struck him that this was the first time he’d ‘seen’ her smile like this.

  Is she that happy I’m relying on her?

  The thought lingered for a heartbeat, but before he could delve deeper, Kita was already moving.

  Her twin sawtooth blades ripped free from their sheathes. The rasp of steel and obsidian filled the cabin as she took a step forward. With a single, fluid motion, she slashed in a cross and tore through the door, taking out half the cabin wall behind it as she did. The groan of splintering wood was drowned out by the sudden rush of wind as the outside world roared in, and Zora felt the sting of the cold air whipping against his face, tossing his hair wildly.

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  He would grimace a little, but he was too focused on the clean, wet sound of twin blades striking flesh. The Mutant-Class ant outside never stood a chance. Kita’s strike decapitated it in one swift blow, and its severed head hit the floor with a dull thud.

  She’s a swordswoman through and through.

  And I, on the other hand, am little more than a poser with a wand that can sometimes turn into a blade.

  … But the Mutant’s body didn’t fall.

  Instead, it staggered several steps to the side, backing into the center of the carriage. By the time Kita seemed to realise she hadn’t actually killed it by widening her eyes, its head had already regenerated, popping out of its bloody neck stump with a grotesque efficiency.

  Zora clicked his tongue, unfazed as he remained on his seat. “You may not know this,” he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the wind, “but Mutant-Class and above bugs can only be killed by destroying their hearts. Now, their ‘hearts’ can be anywhere, but typically, they are in the same location as the human heart. You must aim better.”

  “Got it!” Kita called back. She inhaled sharply, steadied herself, and then darted forward again.

  The fight began in earnest this time. Zora stayed seated, his wand resting lightly in his lap, and he listened intently to the clash of steel against chitin. The Mutant-Class ant was two metres tall, clad in black armour from head to toe, and its four arms moved with startling speed. Considering each arm ended in curved, serrated claws that would definitely cleave him in half with a single blow, he wasn’t too inclined to get in melee range—but Kita wasn’t afraid.

  The swishes and slashes of her blades were a blur in his head. Each strike sounded deliberate, her precision honed to a razor’s edge. She weaved through the ant’s attacks, and despite being outnumbered two-to-one in limbs, her speed and strength allowed her to match the ant blow for blow.

  Frankly, his ‘swordsmanship’ was a joke compared to anyone who even had a day of proper training, but he hadn’t quite realised just how good at it she was.

  The ant can’t even find a gap.

  She’s giving it death by a thousand cuts.

  With a sharp kick, she sent the ant skidding back across the carriage, its claws scraping against the wood in a desperate attempt to regain footing. She wasted no time, snapping her twin blades together, and their serrated edges locked into a vicious scissor-like weapon.

  Zora hummed in amusement as he heard the subtle grind of steel meeting steel. What a clever weapon, he thought. She was aiming to shear through the creature’s torso, straight to its heart. Those sawtooth blades are quite the fun invention.

  But then the Mutant changed.

  A sudden pulse of its aura rippled through the air, and his breath caught for just a moment as his ears picked up a shift in the ant’s killing pressure. Its muscles were bulging now. Its eyes were focusing. It’d been hiding its true strength, but no longer—its killing pressure grew thricefold, surging forward like a flood just as Kita started lunging forward.

  For a second, it was faster than her, and it dodged her shearing strike as it prepared to gouge the side of her neck.

  “Swerving strike!” he shouted, whipping his wand to the side. His spell curved through the air, swerved around Kita’s head, and slammed into the ant’s side before its claws could reach her neck. The impact sent the bug hurtling through the window. Glass, wood, and steel splinted as it was launched into the open air, the howl of the wind swallowing its enraged screech.

  While he stood up slowly and patted dust off his trousers, Kita spun on her heel, levelling a glare at him.

  “I had it,” she said curtly.

  “You didn’t,” he said simply. “Watch out.”

  Barely after the words left his mouth, the ant returned. It smashed through the opposite window he’d knocked it out of, its gossamer-thin wings unfurled and buzzing sharply. Kita reacted in an instant, whipping her blades upward in a desperate block—they clashed again. Hard. Metal screeched against chitin as the ant’s claws met her sawtooth scissors, locking them in a vicious struggle.

  Kita gritted her teeth, her muscles straining as she pushed back against the bug’s monstrous strength.

  Zora was about to offer her more support when he picked up something else. A faint rhythm amidst the chaos. A pattern of footsteps thudding against the ceiling above.

  Eleven of them.

  His lips pressed into a thin line.

  “... It’s not alone after all,” he said.

  “What?” Kita growled, still locked in her struggle with the ant.

  “There’s more of them,” he continued, his tone steady. “Eleven sets of footsteps above us. It’s not just one Mutant-Class. There are twelve of them on this train, and I estimate they’re all F to D-Rank..