Outside the steel walls of med-bay, an alarm klaxon's howling could be faintly heard, providing the slightest ounce of noise for Aiko to register from within a dimly-lit room. With an overbed table currently placed over her lap, Aiko remained slumped over the deployed platform, her golden eyes blankly staring onto a provided tray of food. Medical wraps no longer covered the lying arms at her sides. Aiko's daily medicine laid disorganized atop the bedside drawer and the monochrome scarf she initially found comfort in now hung across the bed's metal railing. As the room's lone light source came from a lamp in the distant corner, Aiko's meal set turned colder and colder from each passing second.
The daze in the silver-haired woman's pupils finally waned when a small rumbling occurred within Aiko's stomach. Although only partially convinced that she desired anything after spending multiple hours staining her pillow with relentless teardrops, Aiko managed to grasp one of the tray's accompanying metal spoons before slowly scooping up a chunk of sustenance. The provided dish itself appeared unremarkable compared to the meals she had become accustomed to. Noticing it to be almost identical to the meal they had prepared when she first woke up in this underwater vessel, Aiko stared at the minced meat which sloshed around in her spoon, and subconsciously pursed her quivering lips together.
The longer her eyes laid their attention on the contents of her utensil, the sooner her mind began comparing it to gore-drenched roads she once marched upon, the ruptured concrete beneath her armoured boots completely-stained with all the lives she had butchered during the global attack.
Sensing a visceral reflex immediately rising from within her abdomen's depths, Aiko dropped her spoon onto the food tray and desperately clasped a pair of hands over her mouth.
The emergency gesture ended up doing nothing to hold back the expulsion of whatever that was already sitting inside her stomach.
While the lingering remnants of Aiko's appetite disappeared into the abyss, the silver-haired woman gave herself several seconds worth of laboured breaths, letting the pounding in her ribcage slow down until she could gaze upon on a tray's ruined contents.
What was initially a perfectly-good meal now reeked of the same bile which stained Aiko's trembling fingertips. But such a problem felt miniscule in the grand scheme of the world, because no matter how hard she attempted to deny it, Aiko now held a fragment of a single truth she had initially decided to never remember. A truth that could never be erased even if she sought to burn it from her mind.
The worldwide massacre of nearly fifty-thousand innocent souls over a single night turned out to be an act which Shinonome Aiko had personally contributed to. Cynthia Jiang Kai-Ming, younger sibling of Cassandra Jiang Lanfen - the very Symphogear-Wielder who would end up rescuing Aiko from certain death within a dark forest - had been denied a life beyond eighteen years all because of Aiko's own forgotten actions. The weight of such a loss fell upon her shoulders and hers alone. And in spite of Aiko's wordless pleas to undo it all, none of the extinguished lives she took would ever come back. She could only bathe in the realization of having deprived Lanfen of her remaining family before spending all this time trying to grasp on to her now-emptied hand.
Even if this hazy fragment was the lone piece of memory Aiko had managed to uncover thus far, it felt like the only confirmation she required to realize how S.O.N.G. had made a mistake when they willingly chose to bring her in. It was a decision borne of pure good-will, and yet, it only led to the organization's subsequent harbouring of an individual who directly participated in a global bloodbath. Aiko's initial desire to help defend this world like everyone else mattered none. The same could be said of her previous decision to move on without her past memories. And in the end, Aiko's longing to help Lanfen find closure felt like a foolish wish simultaneously created out of conceit and naivety.
It was only a matter of time until she needed to inform everyone of what she now knew. Deep within Aiko's chest, an implant of otherworldly-origin laid dormant with increasing moments of stirring power, possibly necessitating the placement of any restraints whatsoever before any harm could arise from her returning memories.
Noticing the abrupt cessation of the alarm klaxons outside the room, Aiko took one more exhausted glance at her bile-stained hands, prompting her to slide out of bed so she could drag her feet over to the nearby bathroom. Aiko faced little issue physically cleaning herself up underneath a sink's running waters. But no amount of cleansing could ever erase the proverbial blood that marked her hands. Nevertheless, once Aiko had stepped out of the bathroom, the silver-haired woman soon found herself tilting her head to one side at the advent of a ringing notification.
The sudden noise from the room's entrance was then followed up by a mundane knock on the door and a muffled voice. "Aiko." It was Yuki. "Is this... an alright time...?"
Using any lingering energy which still flowed through her body, Aiko pulled on her usual expression of utmost calm, ignoring the obvious tearstains beneath her reddish eyes. As the silver-haired woman slid back into her bed, she inputted a command into a holographic interface on her right, adjusting the overbed table above her lap until the platform's arm lowered it to the bedside. The last thing Aiko wanted to be seen of all things was a tray of her own filth. "You may enter, Yuki," she tentatively announced with a downward glance at her now-dried hands.
The room door slid open with a low hiss. Aiko held her expression from faltering even in the slightest. Taking care as to not physically give away anything outright, she pressed the tips of her fingers together before slowly turning her attention towards the room's entrance. Aiko honestly almost could not recognize her teammate from an initial glance. Underneath the door-frame, Yuki stood with a noticeable hunch in her posture and one hand stuffed inside her uniform's pockets. Her typical, easy-going smile was absent. Yuki's eyes were barely half-open. Her ponytail had also been undone, leaving Yuki's hair fully loose while it trailed down the back of a navy-blue jacket.
Aiko's arriving teammate only stepped inside after Yuki had placed her remaining hand inside her pockets. Once the entrance closed itself shut behind the tall woman, she placed herself roughly halfway between the door and Aiko's bed, providing few words other than a sentence that was too quiet for Aiko to hear even with the surrounding silence. Of course, Aiko herself perfectly understood the sudden alterations in Yuki's conduct. Ayano Komichi was no longer with them, after all. Another lost soul due in part to Aiko's own rising incompetence. A shining life taken far sooner than Komichi actually deserved. Not even the slow return of Aiko's memories dulled the sting of missing the opportunity to bid someone a simple farewell.
Mustering the will to shatter the dimly-lit quiet around them, Aiko maintained her polite smile before directing a simple question of concern towards her friend. "How are... you feeling, Yuki?" Any sensible person would criticize her choice of words in light of recent events. Even so, Aiko desired to provide even the smallest moments of calm for Yuki. It was the least she could do for all the sins she now carried to the knowledge of nobody here but herself.
"... I'm alright." Yuki's response felt almost like a reflection of the same phrase a certain crowned warrior often utilized. Although just as much believability could be found in her words, Aiko gave zero comment on it, and instead allowed Yuki to wordlessly lean against the nearest wall with her hands still stuffed inside her pockets.
Several teardrops were noticeably wiped away by Yuki's navy-blue sleeve while Aiko attempted again to carry some level of conversation. "Yuki," she began, unsure if her teammate currently even wanted to hear any mention at all about Komichi's passing, "is there... an ongoing emergency?" The awkward syllables left Aiko at a snail's pace. The only topic which felt even remotely discussible right now were the silent alarm klaxons beyond the room's metal walls.
Rubbing her eyes again with the rear of one palm, Yuki stared down on the room's pristine flooring, and finally spoke up in a clear but low voice. "The Distortions are back." Aiko needed to prevent herself from flinching at the mention of the battle automata she once fought alongside with. "The Commander wants both you and I to stay put for now," Yuki added with a scoff. "And, of course, 'Fen is out there... fighting." A defeated shrug of the shoulders came afterwards, keeping Yuki from noticing the way Aiko's trembling fingers tightly curled around one another. "I guess sittin' around on our asses is all we're good for now, eh?" Yuki sardonically remarked.
With a hint of trepidation in her motions, Aiko glanced aside to purse her lips at the black-and-white scarf she had loosely draped over the bed's metal railing. Her neck grew cold without its monochrome cloth's embrace. But now that Aiko held even the smallest understanding of who she really was, the silver-haired woman felt utterly undeserving of Lanfen's gift, let alone the items both Komichi and Yuki had eagerly provided merely a day ago. Their aforementioned presents were better kept inside the room's bedside drawer in the meantime. A monster like her also held no right to be suddenly worried for a woman she had horribly wronged, she firmly said to herself in the back of her mind.
"Yuki?" Aiko tentatively began again, now huddling her legs close to her chest underneath the warm blankets, "just what would you say if I ever-?" Her grasp over linguistics faltered for just a foolish moment. Repeating the question required a momentary clearing of her throat. "What would you say if I ever began remembering who I once was?"
Yuki's head perked up ever so slightly. She stayed silent for about a full second before carefully replying, "Already startin' to piece things together?"
A distinct ache ran through Aiko's sternum the moment she attempted to lie directly to her own friend's face. "Not at all," Aiko insisted without pausing, still maintaining a perfect mask of utmost serenity. "I simply wished to hear your opinion, that's all." She subsequently cupped her cheek in one hand out of habit and forced herself to give away nothing obvious across her expression. "My apologies if I created any sudden concerns," Aiko added with an empty giggle. "Things have certainly been... awful lately, haven't they?"
As a silver-haired woman's stream of incoherent words floated around the dimly-lit room, Yuki continued gazing at Aiko for a moment until she kicked her leaning body back onto proper footing. An impossible quiet accompanied the woman's footsteps while she approached the foot-end of Aiko's bed. Reaching one hand into the inner pockets of her uniform's coat, Yuki briefly rummaged through it until she finally pulled out a palm-sized container within her grasp. "Whatever's going on with your memories, you can talk to me or 'Fen about it once things settle down, alright?" Yuki quietly advised her, placing the retrieved item on top of the bed's blankets. "Just focus on restin' up till then."
Unsure of what to think about Yuki's sudden gesture, Aiko leaned forward in her seat before taking the provided container into her own hands. The quick press of a side-button showcased its contents: A wrist device. A replacement for the one Aiko had lost during the joint-operation against the Illuminati. She honestly found it difficult to smile at the sight of the requested tool when it was the theft of her previous device which had indirectly led to Komichi's death. "I shall s-say the same to you, Yuki." It was strangely becoming difficult for Aiko to speak without a shaky syllable in her speech. "It would certainly be for the best if we stayed out of everyone's business for now, wouldn't it?"
Yuki provided no actual response other than an obviously-forced chuckle and a small clap on Aiko's shoulder. If she had any actual words to say, they only ended up going unspoken, as an arriving notification on Yuki's wrist device proceeded to catch her attention. It was an incoming audio transmission from a Clan Hida operative. Aiko gave the woman permission to take the call outside through a brief nod of the head. Once Yuki had quietly dismissed herself with a brief, two-fingered salute, she left the room in a hurry, leaving Aiko to remain seated on her bed while she strapped on her substitute wrist device. A flurry of memorized inputs established her equipment's settings within minutes.
With her newest device now readied, Aiko directed a blurring gaze towards the room's ceiling, wondering just when the ideal opportunity would be to turn herself in. It was an act that required absolutely ideal timing, because there was no turning back once everyone's viewpoint of her was broken beyond repair.
The proverbial fires in Lanfen's pupils swirled to the point of deeming everything irrelevant save for the darting form of Lancelot du Lac. As pounding drumbeats and howling saxophones blasted from the speakers situated around an Adaptor's body, Lanfen grinded the Sword of Damocles against an armament of immaculate silver, composing searing sparks that would illuminate the memorial through each repeated clash of metal. Electro-swing jazz drowned out their clanking footfalls underneath resonating pianos. Snowfall descended from the skies to explode against their speeding bodies. Paying no heed to the diminishing finesse in her own assault, Lanfen's Armed Gear met only complete failure towards landing any blow whatsoever on her mono-eyed opponent.
"I don't know who I am, and that's okay! But what's going to happen today?!" Lyrics originating from the depths of an Adaptor's soul ushered every thirsting swing she made beneath the surrounding marble plaques. "My brain burns like it'll explode! Begging for it to not implode!" Propelling herself forward once more into a relentless charge, Lanfen threw her entire weight into a blinding hurricane, desperate to deprive Lancelot of even a moment's breath. "Can I fly before rolling out the die! Am I allowed to cry, before I finally try?!"
The blinding haste of Lancelot's own armament defied its heft. Neither did her obsidian armour restrict any of her movements. While Lancelot's two-handed blade effortlessly sent back every strike an Armed Gear attempted to produce a meager scratch, the helmeted knight exhibited the extent of her distress by weaving pass several thrusts with acrobatic artistry, evading Lanfen's closest blows through a display of flamboyant flips and spectacular twirls. The unspoken arrogance in Lancelot's dance-like motions only stoked the proverbial inferno in the Adaptor's eyes, further transforming Lanfen's barrage into a complete gamble for drawn blood.
"My brain is on fire, I'll never understand! I'm going to tire, blazed from every demand!" Sliding forward underneath a decapitating strike, Lanfen thrusted the Sword of Damocles across Lancelot's leather-bound wrists, lacerating the pale-white skin underneath with an anticipated spillage of ichor. The sheer momentum of Lanfen's attack forced a two-handed sword out of Lancelot's grasp. The Adaptor smirked as fresh droplets drizzled onto her scarred cheek. Utilizing the free hand she withheld behind her back, Lanfen curled up its aching fingers right before bludgeoning the side of Lancelot's crowned helm with a knuckle-flavoured kiss.
A bell-like clang heralded its ringing impact alongside a distorted whisper from Lancelot herself. "Is that it?"
A now-unoccupied hand imprisoned the Adaptor's thrown arm within a claw-like grip. Before Lanfen could even react, Lancelot rocketed her own blood-gushing forearm directly towards the Wielder's abdomen, bulldozing through her Symphogear's protective barriers until its fist hammered into Lanfen's monochrome fibers with a sickening crunch.
Warm ichor spewed out of the Adaptor's mouth. System alerts blared within her black-and-white headphones. Piano keys still resonating in the air, Lanfen felt her crumpling body soaring backwards across the monument. What little protection her Symphogear could reform shielded Lanfen instantly from the countless plaques her back collided with, provoking further warnings across her armour while fragments of hard marble showered onto the floor. Fastening her grip around the Sword of Damocles, the Adaptor desperately drove her Armed Gear into the ground, carving a lang gash over its surface until the makeshift anchor depleted Lanfen's hurled form of its unwanted propulsion.
Stomping her boots back onto the concrete flooring, Lanfen coughed up a thick glob of coppery ichor before she yanked the Sword of Damocles out of the ruined ground. The Adaptor soon forced herself back into an unsteady combat stance, completely ignoring the patch of crimson which was steadily blossoming over her stomach. System alarms in Lanfen's headphones rang nonstop. Her armoured legs were but a slip away from giving out underneath her weight. On the far end of the memorial, Lancelot could be seen casually hoisting her two-handed armament back into her grasp. The wounds on the knight's gushing wrists earned nothing more than an amused roll of her plated shoulders.
Their bloody festivities resumed when Lancelot mockingly brandished her armament in the exact same fashion Lanfen would always perform in the face of a Distortion rift. "Are you incapable of showing me a good time?!"
The insistent aching in Lanfen's sword-hand demanded nothing less than decapitation. "I-I want to be under the tree in my dreams! To breathe c-clean air above the depths!" With the suppressed agony that was blooming within her ruptured abdomen, the Adaptor found it impossible to do anything more than maintain her uneasy stance. "I won't let my b-burns be my theme!" Adrenaline pumped through every inch of Lanfen's aching muscles. The pained gaze she ran over the fragmented names which now laid at her feet lasted just long enough for Lanfen to be appalled at just how many lives their duel was sullying. "A-All I have to do is climb the s-steps!"
Saxophone howls pierced the air. Black-and-white flashed before her eyes. The steel letters in her vision slammed onto a cracking chessboard, declaring the attack maneuver, "Bishop Barrage."
Lanfen's pounding heart matched the rushing drumbeats coming out from her speakers. Ornate, crimson markings flashed across the length of her Armed Gear's thick blade. Drawing only one step forward in the direction of her opponent, Lanfen swung the Sword of Damocles in a wide arc, commanding a dozen floating, glowing replicas of her blade to manifest from her unspoken will. Five whole rows of summoned weapons appeared in unison on both of the Adaptor's sides and directed their tips in one direction.
A subsequent flick of Lanfen's wrist sent the translucent blades shooting towards Lancelot.
The knight's glowing mono-eye acknowledged the incoming barrage as a somatic gesture from Lancelot's own hand transfigured her two-handed armament into flickering, azure particles. "Getting serious, are we? Good." Charging head-on towards Lanfen's soaring swords, an unarmed Lancelot twirled past the first two blades that reached her, letting the manifested weapons graze over casted obsidian before both weapons were snatched out of the air by their respective handles.
Having seized an energy sword in both hands, the black knight turned towards the remaining volley and spun herself into a dance of blinding extravagance.
Her obsidian form delicately waltzed between the translucent projectiles while their attack runs sung through the air. Wielding the stolen weapons in her grasp, Lancelot emphasized her performance with unmatched footwork as she deflected every incoming missile. Each time the black knight struck away a soaring blade through a swing of her appropriated swords, the deflected weapons would careen into the nearby plaques, smashing apart the monument's marble and Lanfen's translucent projectiles. No amount of direct mental guidance from the Adaptor made it plausible for their sharpened tips to connect a single blow. The pain-stricken Lanfen could only grit her bloodied teeth at the continued defilement of her sister's resting place.
Once the last of her soaring blades had been swatted aside into a marble plaque, Lancelot tossed her pilfered weapons onto the snow-covered flooring and stomped them into a thousand crackling shards underneath her boot. "More," she demanded, elegantly wringing her bloodstained wrists. "I know you can do better, Cassandra Jiang Lanfen."
"I'll b-breathe with no ashes in my lungs. N-Not knowing what I have begun." A report from Lanfen's life support systems requested precisely one additional minute for it to completely mend her abdominal injury. But the sword-hand at her side was already pleading to throw herself back into action. "I'll ignite the fire that burns so loudly, my torch won't stop... shining... brightly!"
Black-and-white flashed before her eyes again. Excited pianos accompanied a loud clicking from her right gauntlet.
The steel letters slammed onto the chessboard to now spell out the words, "Knight Knuckle."
The gauntlet on Lanfen's right forearm expanded tremendously with multiple, sliding layers of kinetic-absorbing armour. Its built-in harpoon retracted itself into the depths of her growing plating, replaced by a thick block of explosives which was stationed over the giant knuckle that promptly encased the Adaptor's clenching fist. Rocket thrusters sprouted from the sides of her gauntlet to form a hissing quartet. A holographic targeting reticle projected over Lanfen's burning glare. When her Symphogear's calculating systems confirmed her attack's firing solution, Lanfen felt a palm-size switch slide into the grasp of her enclosed hand.
Another somatic gesture from Lancelot manifested her two-handed armament back into her possession.
Cheered on by the roaring trumpets from her speakers, the Adaptor dug her heels into the floor and squeezed her thumb down on the detonator. The targeting reticle over her eyes dismissed itself. Flames belched forth from four synchronized thrusters. The locks linking Lanfen's arm to her colossal gauntlet snapped open. Her braided hair fluttered wildly behind her. While the Adaptor's monochrome headphones shielded her eardrums from the earthshaking ignition of rocket exhaust, a titanic mass of black-and-white steel launched itself out from her forearm, sending its explosive payload rumbling towards a mono-eyed knight on the opposing end of the memorial.
Lancelot drew no move to evade in the slightest.
"How exciting."
The screeching of ripping metal drowned out Lanfen's electro-swing tunes.
The Adaptor clicked her tongue right as a replacement gauntlet formed itself over her right forearm.
Swifter than even Lanfen's enhanced senses could perceive, the Symphogear-Wielder bore witness to a two-handed armament making its way through the air, slicing every inch of descending snow in a downward trajectory so its immaculate silver could cleave into Lanfen's rocketing gauntlet, completely bisecting it down the middle until its severed halves haphazardly soared by an unharmed knight of midnight black. While a dull droning resounded from the crimson orb on Lancelot's faceplate, the bifurcated segments of Lanfen's attack maneuver spiraled uncontrollably into the neighbouring riverbank, calling forth its icy waters to shower upon the monument once their submerged payloads detonated within the river.
An auditory report from Lanfen's systems announced the accomplished mending of her abdominal wound. The Adaptor confirmed its results by immediately launching herself into a direct assault towards her opponent. Caring little for the momentary rain which fell upon her face, the proverbial fires in Lanfen's eyes narrowed their focus on nothing but the mono-eyed knight who was casually running a bloodstained hand over her armour's raised gorget.
Black-and-white permeated the Adaptor's vision.
Roaring saxophones heralded a readied ace-in-the-hole.
The steel letters pinned themselves onto the cracking chessboard, finally declaring Lanfen's trump card, "Queen Quicksilver."
Armour slid forth from her headphones' casings, forming a sleek mask over her face with a circular pair of compound eyes. "I want to be under the tree in my dreams! To breathe clean air above the depths!" Lanfen's face-shield then docked itself with her three-point crown, providing the cue for the Queen chess-piece on her right shoulder to begin thrumming with life. "I won't let my burns be my theme!" As waves of revitalizing energies surged throughout Lanfen's screaming muscles, Lancelot released her armour's neck-guard and regarded the Adaptor through a helmet's glowing, orb-shaped eye. "All I have to do... is climb the steps!"
Descending snow halted all around them. Falling river droplets slowed to a crawl mid-air. Seconds turned to entire minutes. Unable to perceive her own ongoing tunes as anything else other than drawn-out discord during her accelerated state, Lanfen began keeping track on the holographic timer that subsequently projected itself in the corner of her vision.
Ten seconds.
Sustained by the desire to end this prolonged duel once and for all, the Adaptor dove towards the frozen Lancelot, and drove the Sword of Damocles into a strike meant to conclude the entire Distortion conflict. Revenge for Kai-Ming. Revenge for Komichi. Revenge for a thousand other innocents. Neither of them demanded anything more from Lanfen beyond taking her first ever life. The life of a sentient being. A candle which could never shine again once it had been extinguished. Ultimately, any second thoughts about forever staining her hands were suspended the moment an azure glow started emanating from Lancelot's chest-mounted diamond.
Swift, slender silver crashed against an Armed Gear's killing edge before it could even come close to beheading Lancelot.
Straining metal resounded beyond Lanfen's protective headphones. Her purple eyes went wide underneath a face-shield's compound lenses. Sensing her blade suddenly locking itself with an unrelenting obstruction, the Adaptor gazed upon Lancelot's chest-embroidery while its azure radiance turned aside the surrounding shadows, eliminating them entirely until Lanfen could fully confirm through her own perception that the black knight was truly moving at the exact same paranormal haste as her accelerated body.
"I'll gladly keep up with you all night, my dear Valkyrie."
Lancelot's distorted gloating stoked the proverbial inferno within Lanfen's compound lenses. Every bit of initial shock in the Wielder's mind transformed into a simmering bloodlust beneath the carmine gaze of a glowing mono-eye. Unfazed by her Armed Gear's thwarted conclusion, Lanfen leaped backwards for a lung's worth of energy before immediately unleashing a bombardment of thirsting steel, guiding each and every attack purely through the cinders in her pupils. The Adaptor needed to end it all now. Her limbs were throbbing and any remaining discipline in her form had vanished. Within these ten extensive seconds, Cassandra Jiang Lanfen intended to finish this farce of a duel.
Eight seconds.
The black knight's attacks proudly met her blow-for-blow. Strike-for-strike. Thrust-for-thrust. Blessed with the mirroring enhancements of their accelerated speed, the blitzing duo became each other's lone companions in their frozen world. Halted snow and immobile river droplets broke apart from their deadly swings. Sparks from their clashing blades spilled into the skies before freezing still, accumulating searing umbrellas of fiery particles while the rivaling sword-wielders zipped between the remaining plaques which still lined the Mitakihara Disaster Memorial. No music accompanied their ballet, save for their metallic footfalls and the rhythmic blows between two crowned warriors.
Four seconds.
Throwing aside all sense of self-preservation, Lanfen purposefully halted her body in the trajectory of an incoming thrust, positioning herself just right for Lancelot's silvery blade to stab itself wholly past her barriers and into her waist. The flames in the Adaptor's eyes suppressed any cries her body attempted to release. Lancelot's mono-eye flickered as her two-handed armament's entire blade-length erupted out of Lanfen's back. Even so, once Lanfen felt its cross-guard pushing itself against her bloodied flesh, she took the manufactured opportunity to seize the armament's hilt in one hand, all while Lanfen directed the Sword of Damocles for one last attempt at a decisive strike.
"Impressive."
A hungering Armed Gear lunged towards Lancelot's throat.
The restrained, two-handed armament in the black knight's grasp transfigured itself into clouds of harmless azure.
Drawing the slightest shift of her head, the Sword of Damocles scraped past the side of Lancelot's crowned helm, spilling one last hail of hot sparks onto the paralyzed world around them. "But it's still not enough."
By the time Lancelot's distorted remark even reached Lanfen's ears, the front of the Adaptor's skull was already ringing underneath the knuckles of a black knight's leathery fists, disrupting every strategic thought Lanfen could fall back on. Fresh ichor spilled out from the growing gaps in her crumbling face-shield. Its compound lenses cracked like they were but fragile window glass. Her Symphogear's protective barriers approached their limits. System alerts became the only thing Lanfen could hear within her headphones. And yet, even when pain flooded all five of her waking senses, the proverbial fires in Lanfen's reddening vision provided her the remaining strength she required just to hold on to her Armed Gear, keeping it secured in her sword-hand while Lancelot's fists savaged her face through repeated, bare-handed, concussive force.
Zero seconds.
A thundering blow to Lanfen's mended abdomen sent her flying across the monument.
All forms of music from the Adaptor's speakers turned dead-silent.
Falling river water continued to shower the marble-littered flooring. Descending snow resumed their slow paths. A rain of accumulated sparks splashed upon Lancelot's armour and spilled blood splattered across the pure snow.
Still grasping on to the Sword of Damocles, Lanfen's body tumbled pathetically across the ground, staining the frozen white beneath her with deep crimson before coming to a stop underneath a half-destroyed plaque's shadow. Simply breathing conjured pain. Agonizing red was all she could perceive through her right eye. As the loud humming in the Adaptor's chess-piece shoulder pauldron died out, Lanfen retracted what remained of her battered face-shield back into her headphones, revealing a downpour of blood and sweat on her face. The expected wave of weariness that washed over her as an effect of using Queen Quicksilver could not even be felt amidst everything else her body was undergoing.
Clanking footfalls resounded from nearby.
Lanfen immediately rose up on one knee despite the sheer anguish her forced movements conjured up. Ignoring the constant warnings inside her headphones, Lanfen glared at an approaching Lancelot, hot steam now hissing from the joints in her obsidian armour while an azure light faded away from the strolling knight's chest-mounted diamond gem. She could end it all here if she won, Lanfen repeated over and over in her mind, fastening a stubborn hold over her Armed Gear's handle. Losing only half of her eyesight was not about to faze her in the face of a sworn enemy.
"Come now," Lancelot sweetly whispered underneath a crowned helmet, studying the battered Symphogear-Wielder with her crimson mono-eye, "don't you have one last trick up your sleeve, Cassandra Jiang Lanfen?"
Lanfen confirmed her distorted question by grasping her chest's converter unit.
The Sword of Damocles procedurally opened up a glowing slot situated right in the middle of its golden cross-guard.
Even when blind in one eye and wracked with barely-suppressed pain, the Adaptor fully stood again on her armoured boots, earning herself a brief clap of the hands from Lancelot before the black knight's own two-handed armament manifested back into her possession.
But right as Lancelot shifted her armoured form into an eager combat stance, she abruptly stepped backwards from Lanfen, seemingly out of simultaneous reflex and obvious confusion. Her converter unit still grasped between two numb fingertips, Lanfen hesitantly followed the shifting gaze of Lancelot's single eye, and slowly looked towards the ground to see a flickering ring of emerald particles faintly dancing around her.
Arcs of blistering lightning surged all over Lanfen. Enveloped by what felt to be a miniaturized thunderstorm contained purely to where she was standing, the first of Lanfen's screams now escaped her throat. Her Symphogear's reforming barriers broke within seconds. Her life support system failed to flush out any of the ensuing physical torment. Experiencing wave upon wave of scathing electricity, Lanfen's writhing body finally approached the true limits of its endurance. The screaming eventually stopped. Her armour of heretical technology began to crack. And when the raging lashes of lightning ceased, a black-and-white Symphogear crumbled into monochrome particles, leaving its Wielder to collapse onto the ground in her bloodstained civilian clothing.
The ongoing shower of river water stopped.
A ruby-like pendant clattered to the floor and slowly rolled towards Lancelot's boots.
Silence returned to the monument.
While cold winter frost bit deeply into Lanfen's bleeding flesh, her searing body laid across the ground on her chest, her limbs incapable of doing little more than desperately scraping her fingernails over the moist granite. Deprived of a Symphogear's essential pain-suppression systems, the stab wound in her waist rendered her immobile. Lanfen could only force herself to maintain a reddening stare on a now-silent black night.
Lancelot subsequently planted her two-handed armament's blade into the flooring and rolled a diamond-plated shoulder. With an accompanying flash of azure, her obsidian armour dissipated into nothingness along with her large weapon, bringing back Lancelot's diamond-patterned suit, and black, leather shoes. An expression of frustration made itself obvious on her face as Lancelot concealed the azure gem on her left hand by redonning its black glove. "Must you be so brazen to interfere with my duels, Gawain?"
Illumination returned to the tall lamp posts around the monument one-by-one, bringing their dim, yellow lighting back onto the desecrated monument. Without the slightest bit of sound, a second figure made their presence known by stepping out from behind an unharmed marble plaque. Lanfen's half-blinded vision scanned their entire silhouette while they made their way over to Lancelot in a collected stride. Adorned in a hooded, festooned robe unlike anything the Adaptor had ever seen, long hair of gold flowed down the stranger's shoulders as a silky, translucent veil concealed their face, showcasing no features except the spade-shaped symbol which was sewed into its weave. After placing themselves at a dissatisfied Lancelot's side, Gawain brought themselves down on one knee and lowered their head into a submissive bow.
"I apologize for my rudeness, Knight-Commander, for I meant no disrespect," the veiled figure courteously stated, lifting their head back up. "I have sensed enemy forces making their way towards our location. We have little time to spare." Through a somatic wave of their own pale-white hand, emerald particles drizzled out from their fingertips and onto Lancelot's ichor-stained sleeves, causing the still-gushing wounds within them to seal themselves shut without any crimson stains left behind on her suit's fabric.
The never-ending ringing in Lanfen's cranium prevented her from lifting more than two fingers. Lancelot released a hush sigh and retrieved the ruby-like pendant lying right beside her shoe. Delicately picking it up between her gloved fingers, Lancelot presented it over to her robed companion, letting Gawain take it into both of their hands with a ritualistic bow of the head. Lanfen wordlessly screamed at herself to get up. To stand once more and reclaim her weapon, all so she could continue their interrupted exchange of blades. The swirling infernos in Lanfen's pupils latched her attention onto Lancelot. Copper was all she could taste. But even so, Lanfen refused to let her slipping mind lose consciousness.
A three-dimensional construct of transparent vibrancy soon formed between Gawain's open hands. Mimicking the artistic symbol of the suit of spades, Lanfen's stolen pendant remained suspended in the glimmering manifestation, slowly rotating in place while needle-like appendages analytically probed its crimson exterior. Lancelot gave the ethereal process none of her interest. Instead, the suited woman combed her azure hair with one hand again and responded to Lanfen's laborious glare with an impressed raise of a brow. In time, the construct within Gawain's hold concluded its purpose by soundlessly disappearing between their fingertips, leaving an Adaptor's pendant to lightly fall back into Lancelot's outstretched palm.
Gawain then turned their veiled face over to an immobilized Lanfen, calmly inquiring, "What do you propose we do with her now that we have attained what we came for?"
Lancelot regarded the ruby-like object in her hold for one second before declaring a sentence bereaved of any sweetness, "Tie up the loose ends." Stroking her chin once, Lancelot began strutting over to the Adaptor with a slight hint of visible regret. "Tis rather disappointing that our passionate night had to be interrupted, my dear Valkyrie. But since you've shown to still wield the same spark which captured my heart, I shall ensure your departure with a parting gift." She licked her blue lips at the desperate, dagger-like stare that Lanfen flung towards her and placed herself right next to the Adaptor's body.
A sharp, subsequent kick knocked the bleeding woman onto her back as Lanfen coughed out a mouthful of ichor.
"After all... once I'm done, there will be nobody left to awaken your precious Sword of Damocles."
A pair of gloved fingers released the SG-r04's pendant and dropped it right beside Lanfen's ringing head like a useless paperweight. From the inner pockets of Lancelot's diamond-patterned suit, the woman carefully drew out an object of shining chrome, allowing the surrounding lamp posts' warm lighting to bounce off its silver exterior while Lancelot's back faced the ringed moon in the winter skies. Recognition hastily registered within an Adaptor's blurring mind. What Lancelot wielded was the same weapon Lanfen had witnessed from Kagero's attained security footage. A firearm who's bellowing she had once caught within her ears merely a day ago.
The dreaded gun which took Komichi's life.
"Let me also grant you a mystery to solve in the afterlife, Cassandra Jiang Lanfen," Lancelot cooed, proudly straddling the Adaptor's pained body with her standing form. "While I shall take credit for the numerous purged souls around us... there is sadly one particular name I cannot take into account." An ecstatic grin grew across Lancelot's face without any hesitation. "Your sister, Cynthia Jiang Kai-Ming." Lancelot's sheer gall to suddenly utter such a name intensified the proverbial flames within Lanfen's pupils. And yet, no amount of ire could force a transformation chant out of her faltering lungs. "You want to know where your sister's murderer has been this entire time, don't you?"
A distinct clicking announced a firearm's undone safety. Its chrome barrel pointed downwards on Lanfen and held her twitching form within the sights of a gun's business end.
"Luckily for you, she's always been standing right by your side."
A single gunshot echoed throughout the rift-plagued skies, heralding the dark curtain that soon overtook Lanfen's vision.