The sky over London was no longer the same.
Black clouds crawled like starving serpents, gathering above London Bridge with a supernatural weight. The air was saturated with energy, as if the very world was holding its breath. Mana sensors — or "Arcane Detectors," as they were called — were going haywire in all directions... each one emitting alerts ranging from "Rank-S Portal Threat" to "Rank-S Portal Breach."
Connie Parker and Vixen Rose stood face to face.
Two absolute presences. Two calamities dressed in flesh and hatred.
Vixen stepped back, her eyes blazing. Her aura was like perfume — sweet, seductive, and lethal. A dark pink mist swirled around her body like a deadly dance, made of charms and broken promises. She spread her arms with a smile dripping with venom.
"Wanna take me out? Then come, darling…" she said, her voice as soft as a sharpened dagger. "But remember… once this starts… one of us dies."
Connie didn't answer. She vanished.
In an instant, the air around Vixen imploded… then exploded.
Connie appeared behind her, unleashing a shockwave with the force of her movement. The ground cracked in a starburst pattern, nearby buildings trembled, and streetlights erupted in sparks.
Vixen turned at the last second, blocking with a wave of purple energy that took the form of a dancing fan. But the impact sent her skidding backward several meters.
A crater formed where they had stood.
The first strike… was only a warning.
The entire city felt it.
Magical alarms rang out in Westminster, Camden, and even parts of Soho. Hunter response teams rushed into formation… but the moment they felt the pressure, many stopped. Others fell to their knees. One or two bled from the eyes just from trying to analyze Connie's energy.
Inside the headquarters of the British Hunters Association, the city's monitoring panels began to flash red.
"Two confirmed S-Ranks. Catastrophic impact imminent."
Alexander Ghuthar stood with arms crossed before the holographic projection. The magical map overlaid with the image of London Bridge showed reality distorting, as if the very structure of the world was being torn apart. Lines of energy pulsed in crimson — portals seemed to be opening in multiple directions, but there were no portals.
It was just their auras.
The pressure radiating from the combatants was so intense, it was confusing even the Association's most advanced sensors. The analysts around him were drenched in cold sweat, their eyes locked on readings that bordered on the impossible.
Alexander let out a heavy breath, his eyes still fixed on the flickering image of the bridge. His voice came out firm, sharp, like tempered steel...
"I want the perimeter evacuated immediately… And please… stay out of their way."It wasn't a request. It was an order that demanded obedience.
He drew in another breath before throwing the question into the room...
"How many Rank-S hunters are currently in London?"
One of the subordinates swallowed hard, staring at the screen as if it were about to devour him.
"A-Only one, sir..." the subordinate stammered.
"Who?" Alexander turned, locking eyes with him.
"T-The... succubus..."
For a moment, silence swallowed the room. Then Alexander sighed — not with ordinary frustration, but with the kind of exhaustion only someone who had already expected the worst could feel.
"There are over forty Rank-S hunters in Europe... and there's only one in the damn London territory?" he said in disbelief.
"S-Sir... most are inside Rank-A portals. We would have twelve available, but... some were redeployed to rifts in other EU countries... As you know... we've been overwhelmed since the dual awakening. Too many portals emerging at once — we don't have enough Rank-Ss to go around..." the subordinate explained quickly, as if fearing he'd be blamed for it.
Alexander narrowed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Damn it... we're stuck with that lunatic…"Before he could finish the thought, something happened.
Everything stopped.
The screen flickered.
The readings... vanished.
No signs of either entity. No energy. No image. No sound. The chaos dominating the monitors dissipated like smoke. The once-pulsing lines were dead.
"...What the hell...?" Alexander muttered, stepping forward.
The hologram rebooted — but there was nothing.
No aura. No movement. No bridge.
It was as if the entire battle had simply ceased to exist.
"Verify the combat zone's reality layer. Now," he ordered.
"S-Sir... it looks like..." The young technician choked on his words, then looked at Alexander with wide, horrified eyes. "It's over..."
Alexander frowned. "Over? What do you mean, just... over?"
"It's like... nothing ever happened... the mana detectors are... completely normal..."
"...What happened out there?..."
[Moments earlier]
"He vanished!" Connie shouted, her eyes blazing with fury. A bolt of pure lightning launched like a javelin from the storm, ripping through the air — only to be redirected with a fluid motion of Vixen's hand, the attack veering off course with a lazy flick.
The explosion struck the side of the guild building, disintegrating an entire wall into dust and smoldering debris.
Vixen Rose's power had never been easy to understand — not even for herself. Her gift didn't come from grimoires or arcane formulas. It was born from something far more unstable: raw emotion.
She could shape her mana through memories, desires, revulsions. If she loved something — a shape, a weapon, a feeling — she could recreate it with magical precision and wield it as an extension of herself. But if she hated it… she couldn't even summon it. Not from lack of power, but from existential repulsion.
A power shaped by will.
By emotion.
By instability.
That magic, fused with her physical nature, made her an even more unpredictable combatant. Despite her sensual, almost provocative appearance, Vixen was no long-range caster.
She was a close-combat fighter, battle-forged, fierce as a storm wrapped in perfume.
"You really think I would do something like that?" her voice was a venomous whisper in Connie's ear as she appeared at point-blank range, crossing the distance in a single mana-enhanced leap.
A magical fan — its edges like razors, glowing with a violet aura — materialized in her hand, slicing straight for Connie's throat like a guillotine.
But Connie Parker was no less dangerous.
She wasn't just a swordswoman. She was a living conduit of electricity — a warrior who fused her body with the brute force of the storm.
Before the blade could touch her, she raised her hand — and the energy around her converged into a saber of pure lightning, forged in an instant, crackling with heat and precision.
The clash was devastating.Sparks exploded into the air.The impact hurled Vixen backward like a dancing shadow through detonations, her body twisting midair before she landed in a predator's crouch, a graceful spin kicking up rubble.
But she didn't stop.She smiled.
"So you want to play with sabers..." she murmured, her eyes gleaming with amusement and tightly held rage.
Out of nowhere, a second fan appeared in her other hand — twin blades now, mirrored and sharp as her will.
They locked eyes... and charged.
The sound of their collision wasn't just a boom.
It was a roar.
The clash between Connie Parker's will and Vixen Rose's raging fury created a shockwave that tore through the Black Rose building like an invisible blade. Walls split. Glass shattered. The ground itself trembled — as if London was being shaken by the screams of two warring goddesses.
And then—
BOOM.
Both were blasted out of the Black Rose headquarters like living projectiles, crashing through windows, concrete, and stone arches. The already-weakened structure groaned under the force. Shards of energy and debris rained onto the street below.
Vixen twisted midair with a savage grunt, her twin fans slicing through the wind like demonic wings. She landed on one knee, a crater forming beneath her feet from the impact.
Connie flew through the chaos wrapped in crimson sparks, her saber still in hand. She spun once before slamming her boots into the ground, sliding for meters and carving a trail of destruction across the enchanted cobblestone street.
Parked cars flipped. Traffic lights toppled. Magical alarms erupted into a chaotic symphony.
People fled. The evacuation perimeter was already underway — but the collision had outpaced any plan.
The air between them still crackled with electricity and the twisted scent of mana.
Both stood up at the same time.
Vixen's eyes were half-lidded, her hair flowing like a living flame, twin fans glowing in pulsating shades of amethyst.
"Are you really willing to keep going, Connie?" Vixen growled, spitting blood onto the ground before flashing a feline smile.
Connie answered with silence. Her eyes still burned with infernal red light. The saber in her hand trembled under the weight of her will, lightning dripping from it like serpents starving for blood.
"It's not about being willing..." Her voice was low, like thunder forming on the horizon. "It's about not letting you live... like I promised. Hours have passed, and he's still gone. That's on you."
The ground quaked with the weight of that decision.
In an instant, they launched at each other — like two storms colliding in open skies.
Vixen charged forward with impossible speed, her fans dancing in her hands like extensions of her will. Each slash left trails of cutting mana in the air, vibrating like blades tearing at reality itself.
Connie, on the other hand, vanished in a flash of crimson lightning, appearing and disappearing in violent sparks. Her lightning-forged saber clashed against the fans with crackling bursts that could make ears bleed, as if gods themselves were trading cosmic slaps for vengeance.
The world responded.
Nearby buildings cracked and groaned, windows exploded, street poles snapped in half, and the city's arcane alarms screamed in agony. The asphalt split like eggshell under the shockwaves of their clash.
They were a blur — muscle, magic, and raw fury condensed.
Every blocked strike was followed by a kick, a dodge, a vicious counter. Their movements were so fast, all that could be seen was the flash of collision: amethyst versus crimson, aura against aura, resolve versus guilt.
The air burned. The city shook.
And then… silence.
In the middle of the ruined street, both figures appeared — standing on opposite ends, backs to each other.
Time seemed to freeze.
They were untouched.
No new wounds. No blood. Not a single blow had landed.
Vixen panted, sweat dripping down her forehead, her chest rising and falling like a beast freshly unchained.
Connie closed her eyes for a moment, saber still crackling but unmoving, her jaw clenched in sheer frustration.
"Not a scratch…" Vixen muttered, rolling her neck until a crack echoed.
"You got slow," Connie replied, cold as ice.
"Or maybe you just got better at reading me," Vixen shot back, a tight smile tugging at her lips.
The air vibrated.
They both charged — will turned to blade, aura forged into judgment.
Vixen screamed something lost in the sound of mana ripping through the world. Her fans doubled in size, forming a deadly arc, spinning in a spiral of amethyst promising to split mountains.
Connie raised her saber, now more a bolt of lightning shaped into a blade, sparks exploding all around. Her eyes glowed with no hesitation, no fear — only focus.
They struck at the same time, the final clash promising the end of an era... or a friendship. The ground beneath them gave way before the impact. The world seemed to bend to their will.
And then—
Seth appeared.
Right at the center of the strike.
Like a shadow deciding to become real, he emerged from the guild building's dark outline — Vixen's own shadow.
Her fans stopped less than three centimeters from his throat, slicing the air so close that the pressure alone trimmed strands of hair from his neck.
Connie's saber hovered a breath away from piercing his abdomen, the heat from the lightning already scorching the fabric of the shirt he wasn't wearing... Yes, he was still shirtless, marked with dried blood and sand.
Silence.
A deafening silence.
Vixen's eyes widened, frozen in place. Her aura vanished completely, like it had been sucked into a void of embarrassment and survival instinct.
Connie stood like a statue for a moment... then the energy in her blade unraveled into the air, dissolving in a wave of red smoke.
Seth glanced at both of them with a single arched brow, chewing slowly.
"...Are you two done?" he asked, voice so casual it felt like a slap in the face of the tension choking the area.
The scent of burned mana still lingered. The ground was cracked, nearby buildings ruined, and the city held its breath.
But now... everything was still.
Vixen stepped back first, sealing her fans and avoiding Seth's gaze.
Connie lowered her saber and turned her face away, fists clenched, trying to hide the adrenaline-induced tremble. "You have a lot to explain," she said, her voice tight with emotion. She didn't let him see her face… not the tear that had slipped down.
Vixen noticed — and didn't waste the opportunity.
She quickly grabbed his arm, pressing it between her breasts. "Yes, you do have a lot to explain... and you definitely need to take responsibility," she said with a sultry grin, her rose-colored eyes shimmering with two fluttering hearts.
"Ah..." Seth let out a long sigh, sweat sliding down his temple. "I almost died," he said with a half-laugh.
'Stupid Master…' Bastet growled from his shadow.