🌐 Language / 言語
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🇯🇵 [日本語版]
The sky ignited, a brilliance so blinding it seemed to burn the twilight away. Then came the roar—the agonized scream of a beast that sounded like a mountain collapsing into the sea.
Galfiz, a veteran of countless battlefields, knew that light instantly: the Heaven-Fell, the ultimate strike of Holy Queen Vyzoa.
In that same heartbeat, the “Holy Devil” Linkaje faltered. The psychic backlash from the annihilation of Managloa—the beast she had bound through forbidden thrall-arts—struck her like a physical blow. Galfiz did not waste the opening. She brought her pitch-black greatsword down in a devastating diagonal cleave.
The dark blade bit deep into Linkaje’s shoulder, severing the collarbone. A geyser of crimson sprayed the air.
“Ghh… aaugh!”
Linkaje had worn no armor, her absolute confidence in her power serving as her only protection. Now, that pride had become her downfall.
“It’s over,”
Galfiz declared, pulling her blade back into a ready stance, certain of her victory. “Surrender now, and you may yet live.”
But then, a faint, sickly smoke began to rise from Linkaje’s wound. The flesh began to knit together, the bone snapping back into place.
“What in the… it’s healing? Is she a damn Beast-Devil herself?” Werezia spat. Even with her vast experience, she had never seen a Maiden capable of such grotesque, instantaneous regeneration.
Linkaje stepped back slowly. Even with her overwhelming Aether, she could not sustain a battle against multiple elite Maidens while gravely wounded. If Vyzoa and her squad arrived, she would be hunted down. Furthermore, the Divine Pulse infused into Galfiz’s blade was actively poisoning her system, slowing her unnatural recovery to a crawl.
“I will withdraw for now,” Linkaje hissed, clutching her gore-stained shoulder. “Give me your name, warrior.”
“Galfiz. And do you truly believe you’re in a position to walk away?” The black greatsword hummed a menacing vibrato in response. Yet, Galfiz’s breathing was heavy, her shoulders heaving. She was near the end of her Aetheric reserves.
“The fight’s only getting started, isn’t it?” Werezia added, bracing her feet as she readjusted her shield. But the shield was a wreck—mangled and warped by Linkaje’s relentless strikes. It wouldn’t survive another few blows.
“Next time, I will kill you. Remember that.”
With those venomous words, Linkaje kicked off the ground and surged into the air. As Galfiz and Werezia looked up, four gold-inlaid greatswords rained down upon them like divine judgment.
“Wait, you—! Whoa!”
The force of the descending blades had lost none of its lethality. Werezia desperately parried the overhead assault, her shield reduced to half its original size by the impact. Galfiz tried to give chase, but was forced to focus entirely on defending herself from the falling steel.
Linkaje spared them one last, icy glance before calling her blades back to her side. She vanished toward the darkening horizon, her silhouette shrinking into a black speck until it was swallowed by the night.
“Tch. She got away,” Werezia muttered, before her legs finally gave out and she collapsed onto her knees. “I’ll… let her off with a warning… today.”