Raze had been locked in a cycle of attack, retreat, and forced improvisation, his mind working through every possibility as he searched for even the slightest advantage. Gizin's overwhelming presence left him with the sinking feeling that each option he considered was either too weak or too slow. He had fought his share of impossible battles, but this one felt uniquely suffocating, like trying to find air while drowning beneath the weight of divine power.

Then, without warning, a shape burst into the space between him and the advancing clones, swift, decisive, and radiating with light so sharp that for a heartbeat Raze thought the fight itself had split open. Long, familiar hair swept behind her, and Raze's eyes widened in instant recognition.

"Safa!" Raze's voice cracked through the chaos. He hadn't been expecting anyone to intervene, certainly not her, not here, not against this kind of foe.

Instinct tugged at him, urging him to shout at her to retreat. Memories surged unbidden: the desperate fight with the Behemoth Clan, the moment he thought she might die, the helpless fear overshadowing every calculated decision. He didn't want to see that again. Not from her. Not now.

But Safa cut through those thoughts before he could voice them.

"I know what you're thinking, Raze!" she called back, her tone steady, carrying none of the uncertainty he felt. "But I'm here to help!"

With a pivot that demonstrated far more control than she once had, Safa twirled her spear overhead. Light gathered instantly along its length, condensing until the air around it vibrated. Her footwork was sharp, grounded in the confidence of someone who finally understood her own strength. She thrust the spear forward, unleashing a razor-thin beam of compressed energy.

It pierced one of the Gizin bodies.

All the clones reacted at once, recoiling in unison as if struck by the same wound. They didn't stagger far, but it was enough to jolt both Raze and Gizin out of their rhythm.

"What, ?" Raze blinked, his posture tightening as he processed what he had just witnessed.

He wasn't the only one thrown off. Gizin's expression twitched with confusion, his divine composure cracking for the first time. He turned sharply toward Safa, studying her with a frown that bordered on disbelief.

"All of them may look exactly the same," Safa explained, her eyes glowing with the familiar, piercing brilliance of the God Eyes, "but there is only one true body. The place where all the magic originates. If I strike him, the rest react. I can see what you can't."

Raze absorbed her words quickly. The God Eyes had always allowed her to perceive things others would never register, even after years of study, he knew he could never match that clarity. She wasn't merely guessing; she was identifying the source of Gizin's magic in real time.

But there had to be more. Her attacks weren't just locating him, the beam had actually hurt Gizin. That alone made no sense. Raze's strongest strikes had barely irritated the Grand Magus, yet Safa's precision blow had caused genuine disruption.

He didn't have long to dwell on it. More clones surged toward her, forming a tightening ring of danger.

Raze stepped in immediately. Lightning snapped around him as he cut through the space with his Eclipse Strike, dark Qi and magic carving across the field. Several clones dissolved under the force of the blow, though more reformed just as quickly.

Behind him, Safa drove her spear into the ground, casting a dome-like barrier of light that absorbed incoming strikes. The clones' attacks splashed against it like waves against stone, rippling outward in distorted patterns. Safa placed her other hand forward, guiding threads of light like a conductor shaping the flow of sound.

"I know you're confused," she said, her voice steady even as the barrier vibrated around them, "but because of these eyes, I can guide my magic exactly where I want it. Light interacts with itself differently than other forms of energy. When two light spells collide, there's a moment, a tiny one, where they connect, almost like they latch onto each other."

Her control was razor-focused. Raze could see it now: she wasn't merely deflecting Gizin's magic; she was redirecting it.

"With that moment of connection, I can pull the magic back to me or turn it aside," Safa continued. "And if I hit the source, even a little, I can break apart the light he's using. Bit by bit."

She breathed lightly, but her stance remained firm.

"I fought one of those Cerberus members before this, someone whose body was just like his. That's how I learned. This Grand Magus is much stronger, but I can hurt him. I can take his light magic away."

Raze's chest tightened, not with fear this time, but with something quieter, steadier. She wasn't the same girl who once stood behind him, struggling to find her place. He could see that clearly now.

"Raze…" Safa said softly, even as the battlefield roared around them, "I know you worry. But I'm stronger now. I can help you. So trust me. And if you're really worried… then protect me, while we take him out, together."

Gizin had overheard. His jaw tensed. He had dismissed Raze's efforts for most of this fight, but Safa's presence was different. The moment her attack had struck, he had felt a sliver of his magic peel away, an unfamiliar sensation for someone who considered himself untouchable.

"Someone with God Eyes… and strong enough to use them properly?" Gizin muttered. "Other than Idore, I thought he was the only one. How did the Dark Magus find someone like you?"

For the first time since the battle began, genuine fear crept into his voice.

All his remaining clones retreated, clustering around him like a defensive formation, a wall of bodies meant to keep her out. Gizin hadn't expected to change tactics, but Safa had forced his hand.

Raze looked at her again. In the faint glow of her spear, he saw not the shadow of Sabrina, though that memory still echoed in him, but Safa as she was now: determined, capable, moving forward under her own power.

Subtle warmth settled in his expression.

"Alright," Raze said quietly, a rare smile forming. "Let's take him out."

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