Move, She Falls
As she finished speaking, she materialized behind the spider's form, her presence a dark, unsettling reminder of her formidable power.
Bringing down another slash, Celia cried in pain before quickly turning to spill out a torrent of poison at the dragoness. With a giant flap of her wings, Mavislin dispersed the toxic wave with ease while remaining in midair.
"Your Guardian… She's… That's not possible! The only way to have a Guardian is to… You've slain the Monster of Shapeless Isle?! She is a Goddess!" shouted Celia as she began hurling second-rate attacks at the flying dragoness.
"You should have figured out my Guardian's true nature when you locked eyes with me earlier," reveled Mavislin, her tone laced with cold amusement.
"And as for that little poison cloud—don't think it's harmless just because it's not immediately deadly. It might take time to take effect, but it's far from ineffectual. Patience is simply part of the game."
As she finished speaking, she materialized behind the spider's form, her presence a dark, unsettling reminder of her formidable power. Bringing down another slash, Celia cried in pain before quickly turning to spill out a torrent of poison at the dragoness.
With a giant flap of her wings, Mavislin dispersed the toxic wave with ease while remaining in midair.
"Your Guardian… She's… That's not possible! The only way to have a Guardian is to… You've slain the Monster of Shapeless Isle?! She is a Goddess!" shouted Celia as she began hurling second-rate attacks at the flying dragoness.
"She was no longer a Goddess when she ate her sisters. That made her easy to overpower and consume. Even until now, I have no problem in suppressing her but that's because my bloodthirst dominates hers," warned Mavislin as she licked her lips.
"Shall we end this? I tire of charade…" replied the dragoness as she held her blade up high.
"Move," thundered a familiar voice as a single flash of light ran past Mavislin's face.
Before the dragoness could react, the spider before her was sliced into two by the flash of light, clearing the battlefield from the poisonous cloud in an instant.
Mavislin dropped her blade and herself onto the floor as she saw the spider's body slowly disintegrate into the air, leaving only the attacker standing in a pile of dried blood.
Instead of the relief she had anticipated, a fierce surge of anger erupted within Mavislin, her heart pounding like a war drum as she tightened her grip around the hilt of her blade.
The steel felt like an extension of her fury, its edge gleaming with a cold light that mirrored her seething rage.
She stepped forward, her boots thudding against the smooth floor with a determined rhythm, and the air around her seemed to crackle with the intensity of her emotions.
Every stride brought her closer to the overgrown tank, the very one she had pursued for this mission. Her eyes, burning with an unspoken vendetta, locked onto the elusive silhouette that had taken her prey.
Mavislin's breath came in sharp, controlled bursts, her senses heightened as she charged forward. The world around her blurred into insignificance; all that mattered was the figure before her now.
Her blade sang with a promise of reckoning, and with every step, she drew closer to the moment of confrontation she had longed for. The air seemed to hold its breath as if the very fabric of fate was suspended, waiting to see how this clash would unfold.
"Why did you interfere?!" shouted the dragoness as she clashed with the Viceroy's scythe.
"I saved your life and this is how you repay me? After all, you made a fine mess of my garden," yelled Zenos as he swung his blade to the side, making Mavislin fly towards the side.
"Tch! You didn't save me from anything! I could handle things myself!" shouted the dragoness, waving her blade angrily at the blonde.
"As if you could. Just look at yourself, blood dribbling from your lips, barely clinging to life. Not to mention you are slightly hunched over... And that twisted form of yours..."
"You look like you've been practicing handshakes with the Grim Reaper," retorted the Viceroy as he readied his scythe.
Mavislin blinked rapidly as if trying to dispel the haze of fury that had clouded her vision. Slowly, she lowered her blade, the glint of its edge dimming under the weight of her sudden realization.
She had been in this formidable, otherworldly form for what felt like an eternity, her power amplified by one of the Gorgon's ancient spells—a dark enchantment she had wielded against Celia with ruthless precision.
But now, confronted with the Viceroy, the sheer gravity of the situation began to sink in. Mavislin's heart sank as she realized the precarious balance she was walking.