human
Subaru:  "Wha—?" The instant the blade robbed him of his eye, and his life, light surged out—
gpt
Subaru:  The instant he rushed around a demolished house and onto the broken road, the earth shook. "—"
human
Subaru:  The shock wave coursed underfoot; the shudder in the air made it hard to breathe. Then, as Subaru sprinted forward, the delayed flames and wind from the blast followed suit, mowing down everything in front of him. "Whoaaa—!"
gpt
Julius:  "Don’t move! Aro! Iku!" Julius raised an arm before him, calling out to the spirits glowing green and yellow.
human
Julius:  A green blade came to be, and a bulwark of earth and stone rose before them. The wave of heat rushing from ahead was sliced apart before bouncing off the stout wall, protecting the pair from its wrath.
gpt
Subaru:  "What happened? !"
human
Julius:  "I do not know. Just before the explosion, I felt like I saw a human silhouette pass through, but…" As the reverberations of the blast relented, the two rushed past the broken ground toward the center of the blast zone.
gpt
Subaru:  And when Subaru saw who lay at the center of the blast zone, his voice went cold. "Wilhelm…? !" Raising his shaking voice, Subaru rushed over to the white-haired, aged swordsman who was lying curled on the ground. He had sustained grave wounds from blast winds and flames over his entire body; it was almost strange to find his body in one piece. His face was a grimy black; Subaru couldn’t tell if it was from blood, dirt, or burns. But he was faintly breathing.
human
Subaru:  Knowing at least that was true, he let out a long, long breath. "But he’s in big trouble at this rate! We’ve got to get him to Ferris, or—" When Subaru went down on one knee, intending to carry Wilhelm,
gpt
Julius:  "It does not seem things will be quite that simple." Julius stepped beside him.
human
Julius:  Sensing the urgent warning embedded in those words, Subaru lifted his head. Julius swept the tip of his drawn cavalry saber around the area. His reason for doing so was simple: the enemies he was holding in check hailed from several directions, not just one. Carrying cross-shaped swords, Witch Cultists blocked them on each of four sides. But that was not the largest problem. A final person arrived with the four, removing her hood as she appeared. It was a small-statured woman, with short hair the color of black tea. The cultist’s hands were empty; she stood before them seemingly defenseless and wide open. However, her bloodshot eyes and the way she hurt herself, biting her shorn-nailed fingers, were all the proof they needed that she was the most dangerous of all.