Meeting at the Catacombs (Part 2)

"Quite the interesting witch you are." Hugo hummed. "You'd make for an intriguing captive. I'd love to know all your little secrets."

He slowly circled Jenny, his sabre pointed outstretched at her. Jenny swiped in a cross-cut, but he simply voided and lunged, which Jenny parried with a hanging guard and counter cut, leading to a quick exchange of parries and ripostes. Neither side got the upper hand, and they both withdrew, sabers held at the ready.

"Excellent form," Hugo noted with grudging respect.

Jenny turned her scepter wand into a scepter staff, intending to utilize it as a parrying staff. "I'm only getting warmed up," She said with a thrust that turned out to be a feint for a snap cut to the wrist. Hugo quickly had to pull his arm away, but the false edge still managed to nick him. Blood seeped from his new wound.

Hugo hissed from the pain, "That was lucky." Slightly shaken he threw a vertical cut which Jenny met with a cocky smile. A deadly blur of steel unfolded as the two went at each other with lethal intent. 

"Lucky? Hardly," Jenny shot back as a lull in the exchange occurred. "I'm just that good."

"I've met plenty of overconfident people, Ms. Seris," Hugo chuckled darkly with narrowed eyes. "They always fall the hardest." He circled her again. "What is it that drives someone like you?" He mused. "I see a lot of conflicting emotions in your eyes, but it's hate isn't it? Hate consumes you."

"It's none of your business," Jenny snapped, launching a thrust. Hugo anticipated the move, deflecting her blade offline and slicing her waist. She managed to pull away at the last second, clutching the fresh wound as warm blood coated her hand.

Hugo gave her an amused look. "Careful now. It looks like you're getting off balance by a few words." His grin turned sadistic. "So tell me, what motivates your burning hatred? Is it perhaps the loss of a loved one?"

The question struck a nerve. Memories of her mother's execution flooded Jenny's mind, momentarily breaking her focus. Hugo lunged, exploiting her distraction, and put another small cut in her upper arm. She hissed in pain, stumbling back. 

Jenny felt something magical in his voice—it was as though he could manipulate people by speaking to them, exploiting their emotions. She couldn't let the Inquisitor shake her; if she did, she would lose this fight.

She had never tried this before, but desperation drove her to act. Closing her eyes, she called upon the darkness around her. There was something purifying about the shadows—a stillness, a peace, a calm like no other. They soothed her troubled mind, encasing it in a cold, protective blanket. She was no longer the little girl who had watched her mother burn at the stake. She was a powerful witch now, driven by vengeance.

Opening her eyes, Jenny refocused on Hugo with renewed determination. Steeling herself, she launched into a relentless assault, each strike fueled by years of pent-up rage and grief. Feints, unrelenting swings, varied pacing, and endless forward momentum defined her attack. The blades rang out as steel met steel, sparks flying in the dim light.

Jenny danced forward, slipping behind Hugo. He barely had time to react before her sword struck him, slicing across his side despite his last-second block. Grimacing, he stumbled backward, but Jenny did not relent. Her attacks grew more powerful, forcing him onto the defensive. Soon, he tripped over his own footing, falling hard onto the cobblestones.

Before he could recover, Jenny loomed over him, her blade poised to strike. Hugo scrambled backward, fear flashing in his eyes. With a swift motion, she stabbed into his thigh, drawing a howling scream from him.

"How does it feel to be helpless and alone?" she hissed, pulling her Dussack free.

Before she could press her advantage, a radiant beam struck her from behind. The force sent her flying through the air, slamming her against a nearby building. Pain exploded through her body as she crumpled to the ground, briefly losing consciousness.

Conrad had rushed back as soon as he heard the scream. He had used his remaining divine power to unleash a second radiant blast from his amulet. 

His expression was grim as he observed the bleeding Inquisitor on the ground. Rushing toward his dropped pepperbox, he aimed to finish off the witch with a fatal shot.

Groaning, Jenny regained consciousness, her vision swimming. As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw Conrad levelling the pepperbox at her. Panic surged through her veins. Summoning every ounce of strength, she scrambled to her feet and dodged to the side as a shot tore through the night. More shots followed, narrowly missing her as she grabbed her saber and wand. Gasping for breath, she fled into the dark streets of Bramholt, her battered body protesting every step.

The pain returned in waves, and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her. Stumbling half-conscious, she made her way toward the waiting carriage. She collapsed inside just as her vision faded, finally succumbing to unconsciousness.