The sound of gravel fell into the silence of the ruined city. Just one step. That was all it should have been. But that single step changed the atmosphere of the entire battlefield. Aira stepped forward. The Demon King's black eyes caught the movement. The next surge of magical power was being compressed—that sensation pierced through her skin like a needle. The air of the ruined city grew heavy. The density of atmospheric mana—the magical essence drifting through the air—spiked sharply, and with each breath, the inside of her lungs ached. It's coming. The moment Aira braced her feet, the third wave arrived. This time it was a straight line. Compressed force narrowed to a single point, striking Aira's left leg from the side. Her knee buckled. She dropped to one knee on the gravel, her right hand pressing against the ground. Fragments of shattered stone bit into her palm. Before the pain came the sensation. —It was cold. Dry. That feeling of the ruined city's gravel. Aira lifted