When the glaring sunlight streamed through the window and fell across Airi's face, she slowly opened her eyes, sat up, then turned to look beside her.
At her side, Sendou Yuma lay in a deep sleep, tears lingering at the corners of her eyes. Her clothes were disheveled, her shoulder strap had been torn down to her forearm, and several bright red marks lined her arm. If there had been a cigarette in her hand and one leg crossed over the other, it would have been the perfect aftermath scene of a thug ravishing an innocent girl.
Of course, it was not all that far from the truth.
Last night, Airi and Yuma had fought a fierce battle. Naturally, neither had used magic. Instead, they had used humanity's most primal method: hand-to-hand combat.
Yuma had desperately tried to struggle, but Airi had given her no chance, grabbing her and drinking her blood with all her might. For a witch like Yuma, blood was not merely the energy of life—it was also the source of magical power. The more blood she lost, the less magic she had. And even Yuma was ultimately only human, not a Vampire or a beastman. That meant she could not endure beyond human limits.
For example, hemorrhagic shock.
Naturally, Airi had not bitten her that viciously, but she had still easily drained nearly a thousand milliliters of Yuma's blood, sending her straight into the abyss of unconsciousness. After this, Yuma's body would remain weak for the next several days. After all, substantial blood loss required a long period of recovery. In Yuma's current state, continuing the prison break plan was absolutely impossible. Forget anything else—she could not even mobilize her magic to fight, which effectively rendered her helpless.
This was the preparation Airi had made specifically