Noirette's decision settled like a spark igniting dry tinder—quick, inevitable, and laced with that reckless thrill she hadn't felt since her days surviving in Fathomi as an individual, not a Living Deity.
The air thrummed with the chaos of battle, the serpentine hiss of the five-headed Voidling's venom spraying in arcs that melted stone and flesh alike, the frantic twang of crossbows loosing bolts that embedded harmlessly in its entropic scales, the guttural shouts of the Void Hunters as they dodged tails that whipped like flails forged from shadow and spite.
When looked closer, the beast was a nightmare made manifest, each head a writhing coil of obsidian muscle banded with voids that drank light, its eyes glowing with the cold hunger of entropy.
But it was pale in comparison to many things that Noirette had faced before.
