The first sound was the tearing of air.

  Sarya’s spear passed so close to Fabrício’s face that it ripped skin and dragged a roar out of him.

  The ground beneath them shattered into a mosaic of cracks.

  Dried leaves rose in a spiral, and the wind of Autumn whispered through them as if singing the path of death.

  The number 1 in the Semi-Disaster’s eyes shook, glowing dark red.

  Every heartbeat was a thunder trapped inside his chest.

  Every breath spewed black vapor — old, rotten mana burning through the flesh that held it.

  Sarya no longer saw an enemy.

  She saw a heart trying to keep existing by force.

  And as every hunter of the Autumn knows, nothing fights harder — or dies uglier — than something that refuses to die.

  “The sound turned ugly,” she murmured, spinning her spear.

  “You’re out of rhythm.”

  Fabrício roared, his voice scraping the air like stone grinding against iron.

  “You think… you can hear me?”

  “I feel your heart, Number One.”

  “And it’s screaming.”

  He attacked.

  Not with technique — but with raw animal instinct, all weight and rage.

  His strike carved the stone street like butter.

  Sarya didn’t dodge by reflex — she dodged by reading.

  Her movement was measured, exact; she knew where the blow would land before it even began.

  Her spear slashed through the air and cut his forearm.

  Black, boiling blood sprayed out, smelling of burnt iron and storm.

  He howled. The ground trembled.

  Sarya’s face did not even twitch.

  She locked her stance, used the force of his swing to anchor her spear, and with her free dagger sliced open the side of his neck.

  The cut didn’t kill — it only stole his air.

  The Semi-Disaster stumbled back, swaying.

  His black veins pulsed wildly.

  Mana lines crawled up his neck, trying to stitch the damage, but his regeneration stuttered — crooked, wrong.

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  The flesh tried to close, but the body no longer remembered how.

  “You…” he gasped. “You’re… listening to my heart, aren’t you?”

  Sarya didn’t answer.

  She simply advanced.

  One step.

  Two.

  On the third, she spun the spear and struck beneath his ribs.

  The impact was muffled — but the vibration spread through the entire battlefield.

  Fabrício’s body folded.

  The number in his eyes flickered, as if its glow faltered.

  Then came the first crack.

  His heart beat out of rhythm.

  Once, twice, three times — then skipped.

  His body panicked and forced more mana.

  Red light burst through his veins, racing into his arms, shoulders, chest.

  Sarya slid half a step back.

  The wind brought the smell of ozone — and burning mana.

  “You’re tearing yourself apart,” she whispered.

  “That’s not strength. That’s suicide.”

  But Fabrício didn’t hear.

  He opened his arms, chest expanding — and roared.

  The ground exploded beneath him.

  Each heartbeat was a detonation.

  Mana poured out of his pores, lighting his blood, staining the night with sick crimson.

  Sarya leveled her spear.

  The wind pressed against her; leaves spiraled; dust stung her eyes —

  But her amber gaze didn’t waver.

  His heartbeat was now so loud it echoed like war drums.

  But the sound wasn’t coming from inside —

  It was ricocheting through his veins, desperately holding him upright.

  “Your heart is… trying to flee your body,” she murmured.

  “It’s beating too much.”

  Fabrício charged again in blind fury.

  His right claw lifted, left arm burning —

  And mid-movement, something inside his chest ruptured.

  A spurt of black blood shot out in an arc, glowing mana mixed into the spray.

  He still swung,

  but the strength died before impact.

  His claw cut empty air — and Sarya stepped in.

  One step.

  Two.

  The third… was the last.

  She spun her spear with a precision no human could reach.

  The blade traced a half-circle of golden light under the moon

  and pierced straight through his chest, staking the heart.

  The number 1 in his eyes pulsed violently, as if refusing to let the body die.

  But Sarya pushed deeper, unwavering.

  “I told you I’d stop you.”

  Fabrício opened his mouth — but no voice came.

  Only the sound of his heart shattering.

  Sarya withdrew the spear. The body fell.

  His chest smoked; the black veins shrank like ropes burning away.

  She looked at the corpse, expression empty.

  And then, as if the wind wished to mark the moment,

  leaves began falling gently around her.

  “The heart… stopped,” she whispered.

  But the ground vibrated.

  Sarya’s eyes widened. She lifted her spear again.

  The thump-thump echoed one more time.

  Fabrício’s body had not accepted death.

  End of Chapter 46