Volume 2, Chapter 29-2 – All Lies

That also led her, through one sleepless night after another, to develop an entirely new combat form belonging to the Valentine family.

Feather Thorn, Armor Thorn, Scale Thorn, Tail Thorn.

Although only Feather Thorn had been completed so far, it was more than enough.

Cheryl lowered her eyes.

She had originally wanted to show it to Stella…

But now was as good a time as any.

The skin on her back split apart in an instant. Scarlet blood gushed out like a fountain, yet instead of dripping to the floor, it obediently followed her will, flowing upward against gravity before condensing and hardening along her back.

Immediately afterward, a pair of enormous butterfly wings formed entirely from blood unfurled.

They were not soft wings, but crimson lotuses assembled from countless razor-sharp blood crystals.

The next second, Cheryl vanished from where she stood and leaped into midair. Her blood butterfly wings merely trembled, and countless blood-crystal fragments shot forward with shrill whistles, crashing head-on into the silver net of light.

Red and silver collided violently in midair.

Silver blades and blood crystals tore through the air and smashed against one another. Blood had barely splattered out before the holy fire turned it into crimson vapor. Shockwaves swept back and forth through the tiered lecture hall. Nothing around them remained intact, and the entire classroom had already become a complete wreck.

“Is this all you’re capable of?”

Cheryl chuckled softly. She flashed through the classroom like a streak of red lightning, never remaining in the same place for more than a second. Every time she landed, deep cracks were left in the walls or floor.

Yet Dorothy merely stood quietly where she was.

Whenever Cheryl tried to close in on Dorothy herself, the mercury-formed Girl in the Mirror would bizarrely emerge from a nearby pane of glass, the silver blade of holy fire in her hand stabbing toward Cheryl’s throat without the slightest warning.

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Illusion and reality intertwined, like flowers in a mirror and the moon upon water.

It was a completely one-sided hunt.

“Tch, what a shameless ability.” Cheryl unwillingly dodged the silver blade. “Once I smash every mirror you have, let’s see how arrogant you can still be.”

“It’s useless…”

Dorothy watched the red figure being forced into one desperate defense after another.

She knew perfectly well that in a direct confrontation, this frail body of hers probably could not even withstand a single finger from Cheryl.

If the red storm so much as brushed against her, she would shatter like a fragile plaster statue.

Yet at this moment, she stood in an unbeatable position.

As long as there was a mirror large enough, as long as the target existed within its reflection, the Girl in the Mirror could stab out from any angle, as fast as an extension of thought itself.

If this were a proper dueling arena, such an unfair ability would probably get her disqualified by the referee on the spot.

But so what?

Did sweeping away dust require fairness? Did wiping away stains require etiquette?

If it was all for the sake of protecting the President’s supreme radiance, then possessing this kind of power, one that could crush filth one-sidedly without the slightest regard for reason…

Was that not itself a form of sacred mercy?

And within the Abyss, no heretic could escape her judgment.

Unless there truly existed some freak in this world capable of bearing purifying light with their flesh and remaining completely unharmed, then within this mirror domain, no one could touch her.

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After the two of them had fought for so long, there was almost not a single intact mirror left in the entire classroom.

But…

Every shattered piece of glass scattered across the floor uniformly reflected Cheryl’s outline. No matter how badly a mirror was broken, a mirror was still a mirror. No matter how fast Cheryl moved, she could never escape the world’s reflection.

Dorothy raised her hand and lightly tapped a finger against empty air.

The instant Cheryl landed, the mirror surfaces beneath her feet began to boil one after another.

Countless silver spikes burst from the mirrors like a forest of thorns, viciously piercing through her ankles and calves as blood poured out in sheets.

“Ugh…!”

Cheryl let out a muffled groan, her body staggering.

Although the wounds on her ankles healed within the span of a breath, the constant evasion had been steadily draining her stamina, and the glow of her blood butterfly wings had also begun to dim.

The explosive form she had newly developed was exceptionally agile, but endurance was a considerable problem.

Cheryl held her mouth open, panting heavily like a beached whale.

This pause was fatal.

“It’s over,” Dorothy said calmly.

She could tell that Cheryl was already at the end of her strength.

Although Cheryl had consciously been using blood crystals to shatter the mirrors this entire time, she had overlooked one thing.

Blood could also hold a reflection.

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With a simple wave of her hand, the Girl in the Mirror climbed out from the mirror surface formed by the pool of blood and stood directly before Cheryl.

“Ha… Are you kidding me?”

Cheryl stared at the blood covering the floor in disbelief.

“All this blood on the ground… counts as your mirrors too?”

“Using the blood I shed to kill me… That’s way too unreasonable, you bastard.”

Dorothy wasted no words. This time, she summoned an execution sword formed from pure holy fire. The Girl in the Mirror slowly drew it, then raised it high overhead.

Cheryl lifted her head, the descending execution sword reflected in her crimson eyes.

She did not dodge.

Or rather, she no longer had the strength to dodge.

“Heh…”

At this point, she actually laughed.

If she died like this… what sort of expression would that idiot Elder Sister make when she saw her in such a miserable state?

Would she cry?

Or would she mock Cheryl for overestimating herself?

“Don’t hold back,” Dorothy’s voice was as cold as if she were reading out a sentence. “Just kill her.”

The execution sword hanging overhead came crashing down.

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The shadow of death enveloped Cheryl’s pale face.

Just as that silver destruction was about to touch her eyelashes.

“Just kill her, is that it?”

A door opened, and the sound of light footsteps stopped not far away.

A breeze swept in through the shattered window, carrying a clear, crystalline voice.

“…I could help you with that.”

The instant Dorothy heard that voice, it was as though she had been struck by lightning. Her mind became a chaotic storm.

The silver execution sword froze instantly.

Because that voice was far too familiar.

So familiar that it had been carved into her very bones.

She stiffly turned her neck and looked toward the classroom doorway.

Against the light stood a familiar figure. Moonlight traced a milky-white outline around her silhouette, while the gently blowing wind brushed across her cheeks and sent her long silver hair fluttering.

“…P-President!?”

Her crisp cry shattered through the air together with the glass.