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... with frigid darkness, the other with heatless white. The blade balanced between burn and freeze, entropy and stillness.

He didn't try to deflect Reynald's mana arc.

He cut through it.

—SKRRRSH!

The dual flame edge met the compressed wave—

And devoured it.

Not with power. With equilibrium.

The arc unraveled in midair, dispersing in a hiss of golden motes that never reached Lucavion's coat.

Reynald's eyes widened, just a fraction.

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Sitting under the ginkgo tree in leisure time, looking at the dust and clouds in the distance,

Hoe the ground and listen to the sound of springs, forge swords by the fire,

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