Temoshí stood tall and resolute before the monstrous figure of Zharroth, flanked closely by Phoebe, Stitch, Chiaki, and Fioren. Despite the crushing weight of the ocean depths around them, not one among them faltered. Determination radiated from their eyes—they had come too far to back down now.
Across the battlefield, Razor's eyes snapped wide open, the whites around her pupils twitching with a manic glint. Her long, slimy tongue slithered out between her jagged teeth as a crazed, toothy grin overtook her face. Her tentacle arms writhed in anticipation, twitching with adrenaline and bloodlust.
"I'm about to tear them apart!" she shrieked, giggling with a high-pitched, unhinged glee. "Come on, fishies! Let's make a stew out of guts and shattered bones! I wanna see muscle rip, skin stretch, and hear that sweet little scream when it all breaks apart!"
Gripping the hilt of her massive saw with twitching tentacles, she coiled back and launched forward like a torpedo, slicing through the sea with terrifying speed. As a Vorean—one of the ocean's most feared predator races—Razor moved like a living missile underwater.
"I'm taking the punk girl!" she screeched, her voice rasping like nails across glass. "You ever seen someone flinch before their ribs crack open? I'll carve her into ribbons—twist her up like calamari on a platter!"
Stitch barely had time to react. The resistance of the water made her sluggish, while Razor tore through it like a predator built for one purpose—destruction. Stitch threw her needle-like arms up in a guarded cross, but Razor's saw-tipped tentacle slammed straight into her abdomen.
The force of the impact was brutal—bone-shattering. Stitch gagged, releasing bubbles and saliva into the water, her body flung backward by the sheer pressure and velocity. It was like being hit by a cannonball underwater.
Razor howled with joy, tongue flailing as she followed. "That all you got?! I thought you'd last longer! I wanna see more pain—more cracks, more crunch! Keep swimming, little needle girl, or I'm gonna rip those limbs off one by one and play jump rope with your spine!"
Stitch recovered from the strike, drifting along the sandy ocean floor. She skidded backward through the murky water, one hand clutching her aching stomach, her eyes locked onto Razor with disbelief.
"What the hell…?" she muttered between breaths. "She moves like a damn shark—but she's got the body of an octopus. How do you even fight an underwater predator in their own hunting grounds?"
Before she could collect her thoughts, Razor had already rocketed forward in a crazed blur of motion. Her wild, unpredictable swimming left rippling trails all across the water as she zipped in and out of sight, weaving in chaotic patterns like a deranged torpedo with no sense of direction—only bloodlust.
Then, without warning, Razor reappeared behind Stitch's frozen form, her eyes wide and glowing with mania, her jagged saw already swinging in a downward arc meant to cleave Stitch in two.
"I can't dodge it!" Stitch panicked, watching the silhouette of the spinning blade cut diagonally toward her like a nightmare made real—only for the attack to halt mid-strike.
Razor let out a strained growl, her body suddenly halted, suspended mid-motion by a violet pressure and tight, glowing ropes wrapping around her tentacle limbs.
"Wha—? What the hell is this?!" she screeched in outrage, her body thrashing violently against the hold. "You tryin' to cage me?! You wanna leash a beast and think it won't bite your head off?!"
The ropes tightened with a shimmer of magic as Phoebe made her entrance, floating a short distance away with a confident grin. Her hands were wrapped around the lasso's handles, her eyes calm but unflinching.
"You look like someone who's desperate for a little attention," she said smoothly. "Mind if I cut in and join the party?"
With a sharp yank of her wrists, Phoebe dragged Razor across the water toward her, spinning the lasso in a controlled motion. Razor's thrashing form was hurled through the water like a meteor before Phoebe redirected her trajectory, slamming her into the side of a submerged tower with brutal force. The impact echoed through the currents. Razor's body rebounded off the wall, and Phoebe expertly recoiled the lasso, wrapping it back around her arms with precision.
Stitch let out a shaky exhale, relieved she had been spared Razor's devastating strike. Her eyes turned toward the wreckage—and out of the swirling dust and bubbles, Razor emerged.
Blood trickled from a cut above her brow, her shark-like teeth shining with twisted delight in the glowing ocean light. Her eyes were wild, twitching slightly, and her tongue ran along her jagged teeth like she was savoring a meal.
"Oooohh, baby… that actually stung a bit," Razor muttered with a broken giggle. "I like you... Both of you. The squirmy little doll and the rodeo queen. You're fun. You make me wanna rip my skin off and see what happens next!"
She raised her saw again, laughing as if she were high on adrenaline and chaos. "Don't hold back now! Show me more pain! I wanna feel my bones crack and my heart skip! Let's make this a dance of dismemberment!"
Zharroth glanced over at the female Vorean who was more complete in form, her limbs whole and functional. "Nayliin. Take that other girl. I'll make sure their leader doesn't set foot in our town again."
Nayliin's presence was striking, a living embodiment of the sea's beauty and power. Her scales shimmered with hues of turquoise and gold, catching the sunlight like the sea at dawn. Her flowing, seafoam-colored hair swirled freely with the wind and water, seeming to dance as one with the currents. Her eyes gleamed with a youthful mischief, reflecting both the sky above and the hidden mysteries of the depths below.
She wore a combination of elegance and practicality. Golden armor pieces shaped like waves and coral adorned her upper body, while her lower half was defined by a powerful mermaid-like tail. The tail sliced through water with the grace of a blade, glowing faintly with ancient energy. Her attire, a perfect balance of beauty and agility, allowed her to move fluidly through both land and sea.
"No problem, Zharroth," Nayliin replied, her voice thick with confidence. "I'll show that little girl exactly what real power feels like. I'm not gonna pull back any punches just because she looks cute. In fact, I think we can make that pretty face even more interesting with a little… adjustment." Her eyes gleamed with playful menace as she cracked her knuckles, the sound echoing like the distant roar of the ocean. She strode forward, her movements deliberate and slow, each step carving into the sandy ground as she approached.
Chiaki stood unfazed, her gaze locked on Nayliin's every movement, calculating and calm. Her body remained poised, her feet steady in the shifting sand beneath her. "Alright... I'm not going easy either," Chiaki called out, her tone cool and focused. She dropped into a battle stance, every muscle tensed and ready. The air around them seemed to still as she held her ground, prepared to meet Nayliin's fury with her own. The quiet intensity between them was palpable, as both women stood in silent anticipation, the tension building.
To be continued...