The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet streets of Fuyuki City. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of fresh bread and vegetables from the small, local market. It had been an unexpectedly calm day, and Ren Tsukihara found himself walking beside Jeanne Alter, who had agreed to accompany him on a simple errand to grab some groceries for Shirou's dinner.
Ren had insisted on going to the market alone at first, thinking it was a simple task. However, Jeanne, ever the protector, had insisted on accompanying him, even though it clearly wasn't her idea of an exciting activity.
"Really, a market run?" Jeanne muttered, her brows furrowed. "I never thought I'd be doing something so mundane in the middle of a war."
Ren chuckled. "It's better than fighting.
Jeanne shot him an irritated glance, but it lacked her usual biting edge. Despite her obvious discomfort with the situation, she was clearly willing to humor him. As they reached the grocery store, she huffed and muttered, "I'll just be over there, Ren. Find what you need, and I'll take a look around the food stands.
Jeanne practically skips over to a section of the store dedicated to free samples.
The grocery store's fluorescent lights buzzed softly as Ren made his way down the narrow aisles.
The day had been relatively uneventful up until now. There had been no signs of danger, no new threats to worry about, just the quiet hum of an ordinary evening. Ren sighed, feeling slightly out of place in the peaceful atmosphere. For a brief moment, he longed for the chaotic life of a Magus, where things never felt so... normal.
After grabbing, and putting the necessary food and ingredients in his cart, Ren took it all to the cashier at the front then paid for it. Ren then waited at the front of the store for Jeanne, and it turns out she was determined to eat EVERY free sample in the store. So Ren decided to just go outside and wait nearby.
The late evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the quiet alley behind the grocery store. The scent of fresh produce and warm bread still clung to Ren's clothes as he stepped out into the open lot, holding a paper bag full of vegetables and canned goods. He glanced over his shoulder toward the storefront.
"Jeanne sure is taking her time..." he muttered, scratching the back of his head.
The street behind the store was quiet—eerily quiet. He was used to the usual buzz of cars passing in the distance, distant conversations, the flutter of birds settling in for the night.
Now? Nothing.
No wind rustled the nearby trees.
No footsteps echoed down the narrow side street that led back toward the main road.
Ren stopped walking.
Something felt off.
A subtle tug.
It wasn't pain, exactly—but a pressure, a strange weight in the center of his chest. It made his breath catch for just a second. He looked around.
"Jeanne?" he called out.
No answer.
He pulled out his phone—no signal. His brows furrowed.
That's weird. The reception here was always fine.
Then it hit him.
The sounds weren't gone.
They were being blocked.
His instincts screamed at him, and he dropped the grocery bag without a second thought. His hand dove into his jacket, fingers gripping the pistol at his side. His other hand flexed unconsciously, adjusting the flow of magical energy through his circuits. The wind around him stirred faintly, reacting to his presence.
But no amount of preparation could stop the voice that came next.
Soft. Sweet. Like honey stirred into tea. And yet—
—so utterly unhinged.
"There you are, Anchin."
Ren's body tensed as he turned toward the source.
She stood at the mouth of the alley, bathed in the warm orange glow of a flickering streetlight. A girl in an elegant blue kimono adorned with floral patterns, her long aqua-blue hair cascading down her back. Two white horns curved from her head, subtle but unmistakable. Her golden eyes glowed with a feverish light as they locked onto his.
Ren had never seen her before in his life. That much was certainly obvious, unless she was a cosplayer.
But her smile—
It was like a porcelain mask on the edge of cracking.
"I've finally found you again," she whispered, stepping toward him with graceful poise.
Ren instinctively stepped back. "I don't know who you are, but you've got the wrong guy."
Her smile didn't falter. "You always say such cruel things. Even now... after everything we shared."
Her sandals padded softly against the asphalt as she moved forward, every step deliberate, measured. Controlled madness. Her kimono rustled with each motion, revealing glimpses of the pale skin beneath.
He was in a Bounded Field.
Isolated.
Trapped.
"Sorry miss but my name ain't Anchin, ya got the wrong guy." he asked sharply, pistol aimed low—not threatening, but ready.
"You said it to me. Over and over." Her head tilted slightly, eyes glowing brighter now. "When you screamed my name. When you begged me to stay by your side."
Her voice cracked.
Not with sadness.
With joy.
"I'll never forget it. Not even if you run away again."
Ren felt the air shift.
It was so subtle that a normal person wouldn't have noticed it—the way the pressure dropped by a hair's breadth, how the flow of oxygen seemed to stall for the barest moment.
But he noticed.
Instinctive Combat Adaptation kicked in.
A split second before it happened.
She moved.
Ren threw himself to the side just as a wall of flame erupted where he'd stood.
The fire rolled down the alley like a wave, consuming cardboard boxes and scorching the sides of the building. He hit the ground hard, rolled, and sprang to his feet, gun raised.
"What the hell?!"
She turned slowly, the flames painting her pale face with an eerie orange hue. Her expression hadn't changed.
"You're still trying to run..." she whispered. "Even after all this time... why?"
Her nails sharpened before his eyes—twisting into claw-like tips. Her entire body shimmered with magical energy now, radiating heat.
This wasn't just madness.
This was obsession turned into violence.
She took another step forward, her foot melting a patch of concrete beneath her.
Ren fired.
One, two, three shots—quick, precise.
She swayed.
Literally danced between the bullets like a wraith, spinning in an almost balletic motion as if each movement was choreographed in her delusion. One round clipped her shoulder, but she didn't even flinch.
She only smiled wider.
"You're struggling again. But it's okay... I'll fix everything."
She lunged.
Ren's eyes widened.
Too fast—
The wind responded, whipping around him in a spiraling burst. He twisted his body, guided by the faint ripples of air pressure, just barely slipping past her outstretched claws. Her hand grazed his side, slicing through fabric and skin with unnatural ease.
He stumbled back, hissing through clenched teeth.
Threshold Limit... not yet.
Threshold Limit is one of Ren's abilities. Ren temporarily overrides his body's natural pain response, letting him fight even with severe injuries. Instead of healing, his body ignores damage for a short time, allowing him to move even when he should be collapsing. The trade-off? Once the effect wears off, he feels all the pain at once.
He couldn't afford to use it too early. Not with her that close. If he misjudged the timing, it would be over in an instant.
"You're bleeding..." she whispered, eyes glowing with rapture. "Just like before..."
Ren gritted his teeth and kept his stance low.
His pistol trembled slightly in his grip—not from fear, but from the strain of pushing magical energy through it. The wind gathered again, this time spiraling outward in wide arcs. He could feel the currents now—her movements, her breath, the flick of her fingers.
"You're not getting close again," he muttered under his breath.
She smiled.
"Let's dance, then."
He didn't need to think—the air told him what was coming.
The girl in the blue kimono moved with frightening grace, leaping into the air with a shrill laugh, her long hair trailing like ribbons behind her. Fire gushed from her mouth mid-descent, a serpentine stream of orange and red that raced toward him.
Ren's instincts flared.
He dove left, the world tilting as he hit the ground and rolled, wind bursting outward from his core to carry him faster than his legs ever could. The flames crashed where he had stood, the heat blistering even from several feet away.
His jacket caught fire at the edge.
He threw it off with one motion and came up into a crouch, pistol raised, eyes scanning.
But she was already there.
Too fast—!
She was right behind him, her claws lashing toward his neck.
His perception warped in an instant.
Instinctive Combat Adaptation turned the air around her into a map of danger. He felt the flicker of heat against his skin, the shift of pressure at his back—
He ducked.
The claws passed inches from his scalp.
Instinctive Combat Adaptation is another one of Ren's magecraft. Since he uses wind magic to enhance his combat, he develops an almost sixth sense for movement in battle. Subtle changes in air pressure let him predict incoming attacks and react a split second faster than normal humans.
He kicked backward instinctively, striking her in the stomach. The force wasn't enough to injure, but it bought him distance—barely.
She stumbled back a step, but instead of anger, her golden eyes sparkled with delight.
"You still remember our dance, Anchin," she breathed, swaying slightly, her sleeves fluttering like butterfly wings.
Ren landed hard and skidded against the pavement, the soles of his shoes scraping for purchase. The air tasted like ash and iron. His side throbbed from where her claws had grazed him earlier—warm blood soaking into his undershirt.
She stepped toward him again. Slowly.
Relentlessly.
"Stop calling me that," Ren snapped, wiping the blood from his chin. "I don't know who the hell you think I am, but I'm not him!"
A soft, disbelieving giggle escaped her lips.
"Always denying me. But your scent... your voice... it's the same."
Fire swirled around her fingers now, licking up her arms and forming a halo around her body. Her smile turned molten.
"I'll burn away your lies. Then you'll remember."
She opened her mouth—
And breathed.
A massive cone of flame roared toward him like a dragon's breath.
This time, he didn't dodge.
He charged.
His circuits lit up like wildfire, flooding his limbs with reinforcement magecraft. The pain in his side vanished under a white-hot rush of adrenaline and purpose. Wind spiraled around him, shielding his body in a turbulent shell.
The fire hit—
And shattered across his barrier.
The heat licked at his skin, but the wind deflected most of it, sending jets of fire spiraling harmlessly into the sky. He burst through the wall of flames, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.
Her eyes widened in surprise—just for a moment.
Ren then drove his foot into her stomach, causing her to lose her footing.
She staggered, coughing, the fire in her hands flickering for a second.
Ren didn't stop.
He pivoted, twisting low, and fired twice point-blank into her torso.
The rounds struck true—but she didn't fall.
She didn't even scream.
Blood trickled down the front of her kimono, but she reached for him with a trembling, ecstatic expression, as if the pain was a love letter.
"You're touching me again..." she whispered.
Ren recoiled, heart hammering.
She grabbed his arm with inhuman strength, claws digging into his wrist. He shouted in pain, struggling to pull free—but she held on, her expression half-sane, half-savage.
"Even if you kill me... I'll never let go again."
CRACK!
He twisted his body violently, wind blasting between them. The sudden pressure drop broke her grip just enough for him to wrench his arm away.
His wrist bled.
His vision blurred.
He stumbled back—
Then the pain in his side spiked.
Threshold Limit... It's time.
He activated it without hesitation.
A jolt of static exploded through his body.
The pain disappeared.
Blood stopped flowing.
His heartbeat became thunder.
Muscles that should've failed surged with strength. His perception expanded—he felt everything. Every twitch of her fingers. Every shift in the air. The warping heat of her body preparing another flame burst.
"Let's finish this," he growled.
She ran toward him, arms wide.
A lover's embrace turned into a killing blow.
He ducked beneath her swipe, and followed with a uppercut to her chin that snapped her head back. She stumbled, flames sputtering.
He aimed his gun—
But she caught his arm again, this time dragging him into a searing hug.
"You'll never leave me again," she whispered, mouth against his ear. "We'll be together... forever... in the fire."
And then—
She ignited.
Her entire body exploded in a pillar of flame.
Ren screamed, trying to wrench away, the heat baking his skin. Her claws sank into his back.
Threshold Limit dulled the pain—but his body knew how close he was to dying.
And then—
A burst of golden light cut through the flames.
"REN!"
Her voice.
Jeanne.
A brilliant flash of black flames struck Kiyohime from the side, blasting her off of Ren in an instant. She was thrown across the alley, crashing into a pile of metal crates with a hiss and a cry of frustration.
Ren hit the ground hard, smoke curling from his jacket, his hair singed at the ends. His pistol clattered beside him.
He coughed, barely conscious.
Jeanne stood in front of him now—clad in casual clothes no longer, but now dressed in her black armor, her pale golden hair shimmering in the radiant aura of her flames.
Her voice was steel.
"Touch him again, and I'll burn you to ash."
Jeanne Alter stood between her Master and death, black armor gleaming, her hellfire-wreathed banner pointed toward the crazed figure before her.
"You dare touch him?" she snarled, her voice low and furious, vibrating with restrained power.
Kiyohime's yellow eyes widened as they met Jeanne's. Her breath hitched, her frame trembling—not with fear, but with a twisted fusion of adoration and hatred. The air crackled.
"Anchin... y-you called for help?" she whispered, voice laced with delirium, twisting her head as though trying to understand why her "beloved" would summon a woman like this. "No... no! This witch! She's trying to take you from me!"
Without another word, she lunged, fingers extending into sharp claws, mouth wide as smoke trailed from her lips—preparing to exhale another blast of dragonfire.
But Jeanne moved first.
She didn't teleport. She didn't shout. She simply stepped forward—and swung.
The impact rang like thunder. Her black flag cracked across Kiyohime's body, sending the Berserker flying through a wall with a bone-crunching thud. The ground trembled beneath the shock.
After being sent through the wall the fight is now taking place in a park besides the grocery store.
"You're not even close to my level," Jeanne muttered, walking slowly toward the rising silhouette.
Kiyohime snarled as she stood, kimono torn, white horns catching the light of distant flames. Smoke fumed from her nostrils. "You're lying! You're tricking him! He's MINE!"
Jeanne didn't dignify the madness with a reply. Instead, she surged forward in a flash of hellish red and black. Her flag lashed like a whip, smashing into Kiyohime's side—then again across her back—then a final overhead strike that cratered the ground beneath her.
Each blow was deliberate, controlled. Jeanne wasn't just winning—she was sending a message.
"You're nothing but a rabid beast," she hissed. "And I'll put you down if I must."
Blood dripped from Kiyohime's lips as she rose again, laugh warbling. "You want to see what I really am? Then don't look away." A sudden, violent surge of magical energy erupted from her body.
Her skin shimmered, her limbs extended. Her voice turned guttural. Veins of molten energy rippled across her arms. White horns elongated, eyes glowing like molten gold. Blue fire exploded around her, shaking the bounded field itself.
"
"
But before the transformation could complete, the air shuddered. She began to start to glow and seem to disappear.
Her eyes widened.
"NO! NO! I can still fight! I'm not done—Master, please—!"
The spell activated.
Kiyohime vanished in a burst of white energy, her rage filled scream echoing into the empty night.
Silence fell.
Jeanne stood motionless for a beat, her flag lowered. Her shoulders slowly relaxed, though the fire in her eyes remained.
Behind her, Ren stirred.
She turned quickly and knelt beside him. "Idiot," she muttered, her voice tight. "You could've died."
Ren coughed weakly, smiling through the blood. "Yeah, but I didn't. You showed up."
She looked at him for a long second, then shook her head.
"I always will."