To be frank, the disparity in power between Kara and Aife wasn't as pronounced as one might expect. In fact, after facing down two gods, Kara might have even surpassed her in strength. Furthermore, the words spoken by Cú Chulainn earlier had clearly unsettled her, leaving her vulnerable when Kara suddenly closed in and unleashed a Noble Phantasm, severing her arm.
With an expression of utter shock, Aife could only watch as my fist drove toward her.
"Iron Fist Judgment!"
The speed exceeded human reaction time. I appeared before her, a faint cyan trail marking my movement as I delivered a powerful uppercut aimed directly at her chin. Stunned and missing her right arm, Aife was forced to defend herself with her remaining left hand, meeting my fist with a fierce clash. The faint sound of bones cracking echoed through the air.
Her expression shifted instantly, and she tried to pivot on her right foot to deflect the force. But I pressed forward before she could react, charging in for an unyielding collision. My strike hit her like a battering ram, showing no mercy. Her chest distorted from the impact, and a shockwave rippled out from behind her.
Before she could be thrown back by the force, I grabbed her remaining arm and, with a swift shoulder throw, slammed her into the ground. The impact was quiet but left a deep imprint, a silhouette of her body etched into the earth. Cracks radiated outward from where she landed, and a heartbeat later, the ground exploded with a violent burst, scattering debris in all directions.
"Do you understand now?" I asked, looking down at her. "This is the gap between us!"
I didn't rely on intricate techniques or Soul Synchronization; I was fighting purely with the raw physical power from my recent transformation. I hadn't fully grasped the extent of my new abilities since my battle with Hades, but I knew that my body and strength now matched—perhaps even surpassed—Aife's, rivalling those of Heroic Spirits. I was now stronger than most of them.
Though Aife's spear techniques were nearly on par with Scáthach's, and their strengths comparable, in sheer combat lethality, Aife held an edge. After all, she was renowned as the world's most ruthless female warrior. But it seemed I was willing to embrace a similar ruthlessness. Amid this blood-stained battlefield, my innocent smile stood out as an odd contrast. There was no one quite like me.
"Well, are you still so resolute in your desire to fight? Bear in mind, I possess powers that even I find daunting when pushed to the brink of madness!"
Despite everything, Aife was still my mentor's sister, and though I felt compelled to correct her or set her straight, I refrained from excessive harshness. As for Scáthach and Aife's tangled narrative, I only grasped a rough outline, having pieced it together from Ashe's recounting. It seemed like a tale woven with both love and enmity.
No response emerged from the chaos.
Amid the haze of dust and smoke, crimson spear lights flashed like lightning, forming countless spear shadows that branched out, sealing every possible escape route. This complex barrage was beyond the endurance of most Seekers of Heroes. Yet I stood my ground, my smile fading into a calm, vacant expression as I gazed down at the rain of spears descending. Slowly raising my hand, I became shrouded in both light and shadow.
From the haze, Aife emerged, blood trickling from her lips, her face twisted in scorn as she let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "You're far too arrogant. Combat isn't as simple as you seem to think."
Her words had barely escaped her lips when her crimson light spears halted midair, scattering outward like dandelion seeds caught in a fierce wind. The atmosphere roared with the dispersal, yet, despite being ensnared, I tore through the encirclement with my fists. I repelled blows powerful enough to wound gods, relying solely on my physical strength. Aife could only watch, stunned.
As her disbelief took hold, I closed the distance with a few quick strides, lifting my foot to strike her knee. The crack of shattering bones rang out, bone fragments tearing through flesh and visible in the air. As she began to crumple to her knees, I drove my knee into her abdomen, forcing the air from her lungs. Blood sprayed from her lips.
"Cough..."
Aife's body convulsed in pain, her gasps interspersed with blood and fragments of her organs. Her insides had been utterly destroyed, and she was left without her left hand or leg. She realized her defeat with agonizing clarity. Yet, with me, rather than Scáthach, as her opponent, she was unwilling to yield. Even as she struggled to rise, her breaths shallow and labored, she summoned her magic spear. But I had no intention of showing mercy. My hand sliced through the air like a blade, delivering a nearly severing blow to her shoulder.
In truth, there was little satisfaction in this lopsided conflict. It barely qualified as a battle—it was more of a merciless domination on my part.
"Yield. You can't match my strength."
I gripped her by the neck, keeping her from collapsing, my gaze fixed intensely on her as I warned, "Accept your defeat with dignity. That is the mark of a warrior from the Land of Shadows. To continue like this is only to invite humiliation."
Aife's smirk persisted, even as the specter of death loomed closer. "So, can you really kill me?"
"I've slain gods—Hades, Poseidon. Why would I hesitate to end you?"
A glint of red flickered in Kara's eyes as the dark, intricate magic circle of her Mystic Eyes took form, encircling Aife in its ominous glow. The sinister crimson radiance filled her gaze, striking a distant chord within her. Although different in appearance, the feeling was unmistakable. These were Mystic Eyes akin Balor's—a power she had witnessed only once before, wielded by Scáthach to vanquish the formidable Balor himself. Now, facing it once again, Aife felt a chill she hadn't known in ages. She realized that Hades hadn't been banished by mere mortal means. Kara had killed him with her Mystic Eyes—a power capable of taking the life of a god.
"So, perhaps my end is finally here," Aife thought.
"Then do it—finish me!" she spat, her voice defiant. Even staring into the face of death, she clung to her pride. To die here, like this, didn't feel as bitter as she'd imagined. Would it be such a failure? Even if it meant she'd never have her vengeance, never slay her sister… could she truly bring herself to do so?
The words of Cú Chulainn echoed in her mind, reminding her of her relentless pursuit of power. She had chased strength, likely forsaking pieces of herself along the way, while Scáthach had soared far beyond her reach. The truth was, she had the power to curse her sister, to leave her helpless in combat. But would Scáthach even resist, or would she, too, find release in death at her sister's hand?
A deluge of memories flooded Aife's mind, like a torrent forcing her to confront long-buried desires and forgotten rebellions. In that moment, she understood: all she had ever wanted was to ease her sister's burden, to keep Scáthach by her side in a world that wasn't dying, to be held once more as she had in the past. She wanted that warmth again.
"But now... that wish felt like nothing more than a fading memory. So, is this it, then? Is this my end?" Aife murmured, her voice laced with despair. "As long as the Mystic Eyes lock onto me, death is certain. And now, with her staring so intently... there's no escape. Only death..." Her voice softened to a whisper, "Sister..."
Unaware of Aife's inner turmoil, I saw only a sudden, haunted look on her face, her eyes filled with an unspoken, lingering sadness. I frowned, puzzled. "What's going on? Did I hit her head too hard by accident? Or... did she suddenly lose it?"
The silence grew uncomfortably thick.
"Uh... you do realize you're in the wrong here, don't you?" I muttered, feeling an odd, unshakable awkwardness settle over the scene. Scratching my head, I started to wonder if maybe killing her wasn't the answer. I'd have to think this one through.
"Huh? What nonsense are you spouting?" Aife snapped, her tone full of shock. She had braced herself for instant death from the girl's Mystic Eyes, even feeling a wave of memories like a final farewell. And yet, here Kara was, awkwardly asking if she knew she was in the wrong? The blonde's bashful expression seemed to only fuel her indignation.
"Don't joke around, you jerk!" she spat, her initial shock flaring into anger. She let out a guttural growl and tried to lunge forward, aiming to headbutt me. But I simply raised my hand, catching her with ease, then delivered a light slap across her face. She spun in mid-air, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees before landing dazed on the ground.
"Willfulness is one thing, but there's a limit to how far you can take it without a hint of gentleness," I chided, my tone impassive. A strange fondness softened my gaze as I looked at her. Despite her ageless face, there was a petulant, almost childlike quality to her, like someone who'd never quite grown up. After a moment of thought, I sighed, feeling a quiet empathy.
"Listen, Aife. I get it—the weight of guilt you've carried, the terror of death, the drive to survive at any cost. But your situation is different. You were her only family. The remorse you feel is why you sought an end at her hands."
Aife's face was a picture of disbelief, her eyes reflecting a startled realization, as though she couldn't quite believe what I was saying. I sat down beside her, my voice softening. "Didn't you used to rest in her arms? Maybe it's because our personalities are similar, but during my time in the Land of Shadows, she treated me almost as if I were you. I'd hear her wake from nightmares, calling your name. Honestly, I've never known anyone who's touched the realm of gods and still wrestles with nightmares."
A look of confusion, mixed with a deep, painful sorrow, washed over Aife's face. She bit her lip, her voice cracking as she shouted, "That's impossible! She wouldn't… she couldn't possibly feel that way!"
I silently mocked her. "Of course, that's impossible. It's always been me who has nightmares. Everything I said was just me making things up."
"I despise her! I'm determined to seek revenge against her!" Aife exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of fury and heartache.
"Revenge my ass! Why did you initiate a rebellion in the first place?" I retorted, the words heavy with frustration. "Is this woman blind?" Crossed my mind, but in that moment, a realization struck me: doesn't this feel a bit like Mordred and Artoria's story? If Mordred's rebellion was ultimately about gaining Artoria's recognition, then Aife's rebellion... seems to stem from not getting enough of Scáthach's affection. It's as if she wanted to do something to draw Scáthach's attention but went a bit too far, spreading conflict across the entire Land of Shadows. It led to Scáthach having to banish her. Hey! So this is the story of being obsessively attached to one's sister until death?
"She... but she killed me!" Aife's voice cracked, the anguish bubbling to the surface.
"You went a little too far. Your sister's final decision was to step in and shield the denizens of the Land of Shadows. Sigh, no one has a roadmap to life; there are unforeseeable turns around every corner."
I extended my hand, my touch as gentle as a breeze, soothing Aife's swollen cheek. "Aife, it's important to try to see things from her perspective. While I understand that discussing these matters might not instantly erase years of resentment, you two are all the family each other has. Would it truly bring you happiness if your sister's life ended at your hands due to her guilt? Perhaps, just like your sister, you might be holding onto a desire for your own demise." The words hung in the air, weighted with a truth I hoped would reach her.
Confusion flickered across Aife's face. Truth be told, her resolve had begun to fracture long ago. The defenses she had meticulously constructed for who knows how long were now on the verge of crumbling, yet her stubbornness hindered her from finding a viable resolution.
"Aife, please listen to me."
I sensed the genuine uncertainty in her demeanor. Drawing closer, I spoke in a hushed tone. After a moment, I dispelled the bounded field I had erected. Scáthach's anxious voice reached us, but even before it could fully register, my telekinesis propelled Aife toward her.
Before Scáthach stood Aife, teetering on the brink of death. With unwavering determination etched onto my face, I approached, my magic spear held aloft, ready to end a life. The tension in the air was palpable as I spoke, 'Aife, since death seems to be your wish, so be it!' My words were cold and matter-of-factly.
The magic spear, spinning with immense magical energy, shot toward Aife like a swift beam of light. Weakened and vulnerable, evading such an attack felt impossible for her; she could only watch as the spear raced closer. But just before it would have struck her throat, Aife felt a shift in her body and suddenly found herself cradled in warm, familiar arms.
Amidst a spray of blood, Scáthach held Aife, the magic spear impaling her right chest. Almost instinctively, Aife cried out, "Sister!"
I retracted the magic spear swiftly, my brow furrowing in confusion. "Teach, what are you doing?"
"I…"
Suppressing the emotions that threatened to erupt, Scáthach's form quivered subtly. Her bowed head revealed a private expression, one that only Aife could discern—a blend of relief for having saved her and sorrow. It was a moment where past grievances hung in the balance, the bond of sisterhood tested yet unbroken.
Finally, Scáthach spoke in a soft voice, "I'm sorry, Aife…"
"No, there's no need to apologize. It's me who should be apologizing. If I hadn't been so obstinate, we wouldn't have arrived at this juncture." A hint of a smile tinged with tears, crossed Aife's lips as she clung to Scáthach, a long-lost sense of happiness rekindling within her.
My expression remained inscrutable as I lifted the bewildered Cú Chulainn, who struggled to comprehend the unfolding situation, and began making my way toward the exit.
"Kara, wait. Can you please explain what's happening here?"
"It's a rather dramatic turn of events. I'll clarify later. For now, let's offer support on the other fronts. These conflicted sisters can handle this place."
"Wait, won't the teacher be at risk? That bitch is incredibly powerful."
"Aife has a sister complex. Trust me!"
"And don't go around calling women bitches unless you want me to start calling you blue dog again!"