The wind shifted. Dust and ash from the destroyed building swirled between them like a veil, and for a single, drawn-out moment, the street was silent save for the distant sound of Grog's men hammering on doors and the cracking of flames eating through timber.
"Round two?" Vexes looked at Oreon with what appeared to be curiosity. "Round two implies that the first round ended," Vexes said with certainty. "What occurred moments ago was not a round. It was showing you your place."
Oreon gritted his teeth at the comment as Eilist chuckled from behind Vexes. "He's not wrong, you know," Eilist offered, taking on a conversational tone. "Grunk here hasn't even used a fraction of his full strength. I haven't even scratched the surface of the magic I could use to defeat you. And—" Eilist glanced over at Vexes. "Vexes hasn't even drawn his weapon yet. Face it, human, you are clearly outmatched. Our species alone is biologically superior to yours. Your chances of walking out of this at all are nonexistent."
"They're not wrong. Me coming out of this is a long shot." Oreon thought to himself. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to run. He knew just by the brief display that these three had the strength to end him in seconds. Had it not been for their mission, they probably would have. "Maybe I can stall them a bit, give Celestia and Sylvanie some time to wrap up." His mind was racing, searching for an option.
"Well, that much is true," Oreon replied. "It's a born fact that most non-humans are stronger than humans. I don't think I need a lesson on where I stand at this point in terms of strength." Oreon replied smartly, still holding his fighting stance as he glared at the three Elves in front of him.
Vexes tilted his head in a slow, deliberate motion. "And yet you still stand there," he observed. "Weapons drawn, when you just openly admitted that you're facing opponents you cannot beat."
"I didn't openly admit anything." Oreon corrected. "I just said I don't need a lecture on something that was already obvious." Oreon's slight smirk appeared across Oreon's face. "But then again, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Every elf I met so far loves to hear themselves talk. I'm thinking it's a complex thing you guys' ha—"
Oreon didn't have time to finish as Grunk was already on top of him, causing Oreon's eyes to widen quickly in shock before he leaped backwards out of harm's way.
Grunk's fist cratered the ground where Oreon had been standing a heartbeat before. Shards of stone erupted outward like shrapnel, peppering Oreon's forearms as he shielded his face mid-leap. The massive dark elf quickly dug his hand in and grabbed a chunk of the stone, and tossed it at Oreon.
Oreon landed on his feet, just in time to see mini chunks of the ground being hurled at him. "Seriously!" Oreon exclaimed as he jumped and dodged each boulder that crashed and disintegrated on impact, some of them hitting the empty buildings behind him. "Since when can an elf throw the ground at you!" Oreon dodged another boulder by sliding under it and dashed towards Grunk.
Grunk watched him come with that same dead-eyed expression. The massive dark elf planted his feet and swung a backhand that could have caved in a horse's ribcage, but Oreon ducked. The wind from Grunk's arm passed over his scalp, close enough to ruffle his hair as Oreon quickly swiped up, slashing his chest with one of the daggers, causing black and purple ooze that resembled blood to spill out, but the large elf looked unaffected.
"What!" Oreon gasped. "That was a clean cut!"
Grunk looked down at the wound on his chest—a clean, diagonal slash that wept thick rivulets of dark ichor—with the same dispassionate expression one might give a mosquito bite. The corrupted flesh around the cut was already knitting itself together with tendrils that looked similar to Sylvanie's, but in a dark gray color, and began automatically stitching the wound shut.
"Clean." Grunk echoed. "Not deep." He raised both his fists over his head, ready to bash Oreon.
"And they can regenerate!" Oreon shouted as he jumped back out of Grunk's range, his hands coming crashing down into the ground again. "Just what in the hell am I dealing with?"
"Evolution, boy," Eilist smirked, his pupils shining through his glasses. "You see, the corruption that flows through Grunk isn't merely some disease or curse. It's an advancement. The old blood of our kind, refined, distilled, and pushed beyond its natural limitations." Eilist continued to explain as Oreon gritted his teeth and leaped out of the way of another one of Grunk's attacks. "The corruption feeds on damage. Every wound you inflict accelerates the regenerative process. Your basic weapons and human abilities are nothing, just feeding his body." He watched Oreon dodge another attack and slash Grunk's arm, but with the same effect.
"Every attack, every cut and swipe. It does nothing but feed the body." Oreon's breath came in ragged bursts as he rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding Grunk's knee as the massive elf drove it into the wall, caving it in.
"So, cutting him is pointless. Stabbing him is pointless. So, what the hell do I do?" Oreon's thoughts were interrupted as Grunk's massive hand quickly grabbed him by the back of his shirt, catching Oreon as he tried to dodge again and slung him through a glass window of another building.
Glass fragments rained down on Oreon as he fell through the window and landed in a former restaurant. His back struck a wooden table, snapping it in half, and he rolled across the floor through scattered chairs and debris before slamming into the far wall.
Pain lanced through every inch of Oreon's body. His vision swam—ceiling beams doubling, tripling, before slowly merging back into one. He shook his head, trying to shake the dizziness before he forced himself to one knee, his ribs screaming in protest.
"Well, I'm still alive at least." He thought to himself as glass crunched beneath his palm as he braced himself against the floor. Blood trickled from a dozen shallow cuts along his arms and neck. "Ok, think." He continued. "I can't cut him. I can't stab him. His wounds heal. So, physical damage is a no-go with these guys, at least whatever I do." He lifted himself but stumbled back down to one knee. "Crap, this isn't good." He breathed. "Not good at all."
Heavy footsteps crunched through the broken glass outside. Slow. Deliberate footsteps that Grunk made as he walked. Each footfall sent a tremor through the floorboards beneath Oreon's knees, a metronome counting down what little time he had left to think.
Through the shattered window frame, Oreon could see Eilist leaning casually against a lamppost, arms folded, watching the scene unfold. Vexes stood further back, utterly still, his corrupted eyes tracking everything with that same unsettling patience.
"They're not even worried. Not even a little." Oreon's mind raced as the Doorframe of the restaurant exploded inward, and Grunk simply walked through the wall rather than bothering with the entrance. Brick and plaster cascaded around his shoulders like water off a boulder.
"Come out, human. We're not done." Clenching his teeth in frustration, he finally got to his feet, let out a war cry, and charged at the huge, corrupted elf.
Meanwhile, Sylvanie's body slid backwards, her feet sliding against the ground as Yvonne came down on top of her, her blade wheel colliding with Sylvanie's scythe as she blocked the incoming attack and quickly twirled it to block another strike from Yvonne.
"What's wrong, Sylvie?" Yvonne taunted. "Your little human pet isn't doing so well." She slashed at her again, only for Sylvanie to block and counter with a wide swing of her own, but Yvonne leaped backwards out of her range, landing on her feet in a crouch. "You might want to speed this up if you're going to save him."
Sylvanie's eyes quickly flickered toward the sound of glass shattering. The distant echo of Oreon's war cry reached her ears, muffled but unmistakable.
"Eyes on me, Sylvie!" Yvonne's bladed wheel sliced through the air in a dangerous, horizontal sweep. Sylvanie quickly snapped her attention back just in time, bringing the shaft of her scythe up to catch the spinning edge. Metal shrieked against metal, sparks erupting between them. The force of the impact drove Sylvanie's heels into the ground, carving shallow grooves as she slid back another half meter. "It's not like you to get distracted. What's wrong? Since when did you get so soft and start caring about a human!" Yvonne broke the struggle by quickly spinning to her right and roundhouse kicking Sylvanie in her exposed side, knocking her through a building herself.
Sylvanie burst through the wooden wall, sending splinters and dust flying, and landed in what used to be a house. The dining table broke apart under her weight, and the chairs were flung around as she slid across the floor. However, unlike Oreon. Sylvanie was quick to recover.
"This bitch." She hissed under her breath, her scythe still in her hand as she stood up.
Her eyes narrowed as Yvonne's silhouette appeared in the hole she'd made, leaning against the jagged edge of the broken wall with one hip cocked, her bladed wheel resting lazily against her shoulder.
"Oh, good. You're already up." Yvonne stepped through the debris, her boots crunching precious household items that broke during the wall's collapse. "For a second there, I thought I'd actually hurt you. That would have been boring."
Sylvanie rolled her neck, a sharp crack echoing through the ruined home. She fixed her gaze on Yvonne, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then, she took a deep breath and momentarily closed her eyes. "Boring, huh?" She reopened her eyes, and the second she did, her eyes were now glowing. Her crimson eyes were shining with power. "Allow me to show you something."
She quickly vanished and reappeared in front of Yvonne, who quickly tried to block a scythe strike, but it was a feint as Sylvanie's image blurred as it passed through her, catching Yvonne by surprise, causing her to drop her guard for a moment before the curved part of her scythe catching Yvonne in the midsection, causing her to fly through the same hole she sent Sylvanie through.
Sylvanie, on the other hand, didn't let up. She quickly vanished again, showcasing her speed as she reappeared above her as her body was in mid-flight. Scythe arched back. "Is this fun enough for you!" The scythe came down, its blade whistling through the air with lethal intent. Yvonne's eyes widened—just barely—before she twisted her body mid-flight, bringing her bladed wheel up in a desperate parry.
Metal screamed against metal. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through both weapons, and Yvonne was driven downward like a falling star, crashing into the cobblestone streets below with enough force to crater the street.
Dust and debris erupted upward in a plume. Sylvanie landed a few meters away, her scythe spinning once before she planted its base against the ground. Her breathing was controlled and measured, but her glowing red eyes never left the settling cloud of dust.
"Get up," Sylvanie said, her tone cold. "I know that wasn't enough."
The dust settled slowly, revealing Yvonne lying in the small crater, her body motionless for a long, drawn-out moment. Then—a laugh, low at first, bubbling up before it erupted from her throat. "Now that's the Sylvie I remember." Her body smoothly elevated, and she stood up with minimal exertion. "So aggressive, so hostile, so violent, so—"
Sylvanie quickly appeared in front of Yvonne again, the arc of her scythe swinging with full precision, aiming for her opponent's neck. "…Annoying," Sylvanie spoke coldly as she pressed forward with her swing, but at the last second, Yvonne leaned her head back, almost like she was in the matrix, but she didn't lean back that far and avoided the scythe completely. Next, she quickly used her right foot and kicked upward towards Sylvanie's jaw, but the purple-haired elf side-stepped and spun around so that her back was facing Yvonne, and tried to elbow her in the face.
However, Yvonne caught her elbow with her free palm and quickly kicked her leg up, knocking Sylvanie's legs from underneath her, causing her to fall backward until her back hit the ground, but it was only there for a second. Yvonne tried to bring down her blade wheel on top of Sylvanie's face, but before Yvonne could follow through, Sylvanie had already twisted her body into a spinning kick that forced Yvonne to take a step back. Quickly, resetting on one knee, Sylvanie pressed her palm into the ground again, sending another three shadow tendrils towards Yvonne, shooting out of the ground towards her.
Yvonne's reaction was instantaneous. She leaped, her body corkscrewing through the air as the first tendril snapped shut where her stomach had been a heartbeat prior. The second one she deflected with a spinning slash of her blade wheel, severing it cleanly—but the severed end didn't fall. It split into two smaller tendrils that immediately redirected toward her.
"Oh, that's new." She landed on the ground; blade wheel gripped tightly as the two mini tendrils shot towards her, splitting apart to flank her from both sides. Yvonne's grin didn't falter—if anything, it widened. She dropped low, letting both tendrils collide above her head where they tangled into each other momentarily before separating again. But the third original tendril, the one she'd dodged first, had circled behind her. It caught her ankle.
"Tch--!"
The surprise flickered across Yvonne's face for barely a fraction of a second before—"
"Eyes on me…Yvonne." Sylvanie regurgitated Yvonne's earlier words back at her as Yvonne looked up just in time to see Sylvanie coming down towards her, scythe in mid-swing, as the tendril held her ankle in place. However, Yvonne quickly countered by summoning another wheel blade in her free hand, deflecting Sylvanie's attack scythe upward, then, in the same motion, using her other wheel blade to sever the tendril that trapped her ankle.
"Don't underestimate Sylvie!" Yvonne spun around, now her eyes glowing red but with the Order's insignia flashing in her pupils, which caught Sylvanie off guard for a moment, allowing Yvonne to deliver a hard spin kick to Sylvanie's midsection, sending her crashing into another building hard.
The impact rattled Sylvanie's bones. Her back hit a support beam that buckled under the force. Her body bounced off, only to be driven through it by Yvonne as she drove her knee down on Sylvanie, pushing her through the beam and causing the small building to collapse around them.
A moment later, Yvonne could be seen leaping out of the rubble, standing there with her hand on her hip, her head slightly cocked to the side as dust and debris cascaded off Sylvanie's shoulders as she rose from the wreckage, a line of blood trailing from the corner of her lip. Her scythe was still in her grip—she hadn't let go, not even for a second. Her breathing was heavier now, but controlled for the most part.
"And now…you're using the power they gave you?" She gritted her teeth. "You never could really do anything on your own."
Still leaning her head to the side. "And this is coming from the princess who hid behind her big sister's skirt her entire life." She shrugged her shoulders. "You just don't get it, do you?" Yvonne straightened up. "We were never going to get stronger being held down the way we were. That blasted excuse for a king was going to get us all killed. We had to do what we had to survive. We had to adapt. I had to—"
"You didn't have to do anything." Sylvanie glared at her. "You didn't have to join them. You didn't have to turn your back on everything. …everything that we stood for. You, me, my sister. My mother. Everyone who ever gave their life for a better way in our kingdom, and now look at you. Your eyes, walking around with the Orders sigil engraved in your soul." She twirled her scythe in her hands, stabbing it into the ground, but hard enough to break the surface. "You must be proud of yourself right now. Gloating about the power that those zealots gave you…and you call yourself a dark elf, a Jaeger!"
Yvonne's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare lecture me about my choices." She spat lowly. "Especially when all you did was live a naïve life behind a man who never cared about our kind. A man who did nothing but lie and manipulate his way around the throne, fooling everyone from commoner to noble about how just his actions were. How we were progressing but steadily falling backwards and losing our way with each passing day." She took a step forward. "You made your choice to stand behind that liar just as much as I made my choice to stand by the people that gave me power."
"You don't get to speak on my fath—"
"Your father was a joke!" Yvonne yelled, her eyes glowing a bit brighter as her anger rose. "The so-called king of Vel'Andria. The scheming con artist who did nothing but implode the Elven nation from within! Sea Elves, Scorch Elves, Dark Elves, Wood Elves. It's as Vexes said! Your father played his role in people's faces. Shaking hands in some grand gesture, only to have us take their lives before the next sunrise. Your father…No, that tyrant tried to take a page out of the Order's playbook. A shame that he was playing way out of his league."
Sylvanie's grip tightened on her scythe as she glared at her opponent. "Yvonne, I won't say it again…" She gritted her teeth.
"Oh? Did I hit a nerve?" Yvonne tilted her head, a cruel smile playing at her lips. "You know I'm right deep down, you've probably always known. Then again, you were the daughter always chasing after a father's love that was never meant for you."
Sylvanie's scythe slammed into the ground, the blade biting deep into the stone beneath her. "Shut up…just shut up." She growled at her. "…I'm sick…I'm sick of hearing every excuse in the book about why you had to do what you did. I don't want to hear it." She took a step forward. "I don't care what your reasons are! I don't care what you think my father did! You abandoned us! You abandoned our people and, worst of all, as my best friend." She pointed her scythe at Yvonne. "You abandoned me. The only true friend I had in the kingdom outside of my sister. So, save it. I don't want to hear your excuses. Right now, you're just another enemy. Another enemy with excuses who were too weak to stand up for what they believed. Too weak to fight against someone who threatened the very place you rested your head. So, do me a favor. Die." She gritted her teeth as she got into her fighting stance and charged at her. "Die, being the weak bitch you've always been!"
Sylvanie vanished. Not a blur. Not a flicker. She simply ceased to exist in one spot and materialized directly in front of Yvonne, scythe already mid-swing. The blade moved so fast it left a visible trail of shadow energy in its wake, aimed straight for Yvonne's neck.
Yvonne barely managed to bring both blade wheels up in cross guard—causing a loud clang to echo throughout the streets. The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, shattering every window within a ten-meter radius. Yvonne's boots skidded backward, carving deep grooves into the stone street as the sheer force behind the strike drove her back.
Sylvanie pressed forward, her scythe a whirlwind of lethal arcs. Each swing was faster than the last, each strike heavier and more precise. Yvonne deflected, parried, and dodged, but for the first time in their fight, she was being pushed back.
She quickly disengaged, suddenly spinning low and sweeping her scythe in a wide arc aimed at Yvonne's legs. Yvonne jumped, but Sylvanie anticipated it. Trusting her hand forward, a shadow tendril erupted from the ground beneath her, wrapping around Yvonne's waist mid-leap.
"Wha--!"
Sylvanie yanked downward with brutal force, slamming Yvonne face-first into the cobblestones. Before the dust could even settle, Sylvanie was already above her, scythe raised high, the curved blade gleaming with dark energy.
"You want to talk about my father." Sylvanie's voice came out low. "About choices?" She brought her scythe down.
Yvonne rolled at the last possible moment. The blade bit deep into the stone where her head had been, sending chunks of rock flying. But Sylvanie didn't stop. Couldn't stop. She wrenched her weapon free and pressed forward relentlessly.
"You had everything!" Another swing. "A home!" A thrust. "People who cared about you!" A spinning strike that forced Yvonne to backflip away. "And you threw it all away for…For what?!"
Yvonne landed hard on her feet, breathing heavier now. Her usual smirk faded as it was her turn to tighten the grip on her blade wheels. "For survival!" She shouted back, and for the first time, there was genuine anger in her voice. "For a real chance to live beyond the next war! Beyond the next betrayal! Beyond the next lie your father fed us!" Yvonne got back into her own fighting stance, her eyes blazing now. "I got power to fight back, power to protect myself. To protect the things that matter to me! I don't know about you, but out of all of that. I'm alive! Standing here stronger than I was before!"
Sylvanie's eyes narrowed dangerously as she vanished and reappeared again, this time on the left side of Yvonne. "Then let me fix that mistake." She said, swinging her scythe with all the strength she had as the blade drew closer to Yvonne's head.
"No…I don't think you will." Yvonne simply lifted her right arm, her wheel blade blocking Sylvanie's strike cold; this time, it seemed like she barely put in any effort to stop her attack.
"Wha…What." Sylvanie's eyes widened slightly—not from the block itself, but at the ease of it. The impact should have forced Yvonne back, should have made her arms tremble under the weight of her anger, her fury. Instead…Nothing.
Yvonne stood there, arm raised casually, her blade wheel catching Sylvanie's scythe like it weighed nothing at all. The Order's insignia in her pupils pulsed brighter now, casting an eerie crimson glow across her features.
"You feel that, don't you?" Yvonne's voice dropped, almost pitying her former friend. "The difference between us?" Her pupils were glowing brighter as she smirked at Sylvanie.
Meanwhile, Celestia dodged another claw attack from Divia. Ducking an overhead claw attack and pushing her palm out, striking Divia once again, but it barely fazed her as she reached for another attack. Celestia twisted sharply to the side, narrowly avoiding the clawed hand that raked through the air where her shoulder had been the moment before. Her breathing was controlled, but there was a tightness in her chest now. Divia wasn't slowing down. If anything, she was getting faster.
"You're persistent," Celestia murmured, her eyes tracking every movement. "I've never seen you operate up close, but I can tell my father was very particular when he picked you for the jaegers."
Divia's lips curled into a feral grin, her claws glinting in the sunlight as she circled Celestia like a predator sizing up its prey. "Flattery won't save you, Princess." She lunged again, this time feinting left before pivoting right, her claws aimed directly at Celestia's ribs.
Celestia's hand glowed with light as she intercepted the strike, her palm meeting Divia's wrist. The impact sent a shockwave of holy energy rippling outward, forcing Divia to leap back.
"You're good," Divia admitted, rotating her wrist. "But you're holding back. I can feel it. You're not giving this your all. What's wrong?" She tilted her head. "Afraid you'll hurt me? Is the delicate little flower that your mother groomed you to be still a sheltered little house pet? A trophy daughter?" She chuckled a bit, using one of her nails to move some of her silver hair out of her face. "And you thought you would be good enough to take the throne." She lowered herself a bit. "Don't make me laugh!" She charged forward again.
Celestia's jaw tightened, but she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she centered herself, drawing upon the light within. As Divia closed the distance between them, Celestia's hands moved in fluid arcs, weaving barriers of golden luminescence that shimmered into existence just as Divia's claws struck.
Sounds echo as the deadly duel between the two continued. Divia was moving, circling Celestia as she tried to slash at whatever opening Celestia might have had, but every swipe was met with a light barrier of defense.
However, Celestia's barriers held, but each impact sent tremors up her arms. She could feel the strain building, the constant defense wearing her down bit by bit. Divia noticed it too. The slight delay in Celestia's movements, the way her barrier would appear at the right moment, but slightly off before it vanishes away.
"There it is…" She whispered, her eyes narrowing as she pressed harder. "That little crack in your perfect composure." She attacked again, but this time with a different pattern—three quick slashes followed by a sudden drop and sweep kick. Celestia blocked the first two strikes, but the third caught the edge of her barrier, sending a ripple through the golden light. The sweep kick came too fast, causing Celestia to stumble backward, her footing momentarily lost as Divia closed in.
With another burst of speed, Divia feinted right before striking from the right, her claws slicing through Celestia's sleeve and drawing a thin line of blood. Celestia winced but countered immediately, a burst of golden light erupted from her palm that sent Divia skidding backward with a chuckle as she lazily stood back up, hand on her hip.
"First blood goes to me, Princess." Divia taunted, licking her lips as she admired the crimson stain on her nails.
Celestia pressed her free hand against the wound, feeling the warmth of her own blood seeping through her fingers. The cut wasn't deep—superficial at best—but the sting reminded her that she couldn't afford to be careless.
"You seem pleased with yourself," Celestia said calmly, her eyes never leaving Divia's. "Drawing blood from someone who isn't trying to kill you."
"Oh? And whose fault is that?" Divia's grin widened. "Here we are in a fight with an outcome that determines whether you get to walk away with your little human pet or not at all, and you're trying to be merciful." She shook her head disappointedly. "You high elves were always so presumptuous. Always thinking you're better than everyone else, and you. The pinnacle of all this. The daughter of the Elven king, who took up the throne once her mother passed away, was brought to her knees in chains and forced to face the reality…" She crouched down again. "The reality that you're just a helpless little girl in a battle too big for you!" With a sudden burst of speed, Divia lunged forward, her form shifting mid-attack. Her hair darkened to violet, her eyes flashing crimson—Sylvanie's face now sneering at Celestia as she stretched her clawed hand toward her chest."
Celestia's breath caught in her throat. For a fraction of a second, the world tilted. The face before her wasn't Divia's anymore; it was Sylvanie's. Her body froze.
"Sylvanie—"
The clawed hand pierced through her barrier like it was made of paper, striking directly toward her chest. At the last possible moment, instinct overrode hesitation. Celestia twisted sharply to the side, the claws grazing her ribs instead of puncturing her heart. Clutching her side, she stumbled backward, a sudden, intense pain shooting through her.
The illusion shattered. Divia's face returned, her grin wider than ever.
"Gotcha," She purred, licking the blood from her claws again. "You really are soft, aren't you?" All I had to do was show you your precious little sister's face and you just…froze." A soft, taunting laugh escaped her. "Pathetic." She spat out as her face changed back into Sylvanie.
"Sister, help me. The orders got me. Help, sister, help!" She spoke in Sylvanie's voice, maintaining her form as she smirked at Celestia. "Sister, they're too strong. I can't do it alone. Sister, where are you?"
Celestia's hand pressed harder against her side, blood seeping between her fingers as light glowed in her palm, healing the wound. However, the effects were still there. Her breathing was shallow now, her vision momentarily blurred by pain—but it wasn't the physical wound that hurt the most. It was the voice. The face. The cruel mockery of her sister.
"Stop it," Celestia spoke in a hushed tone.
Divia—still wearing Sylvanie's face—tilted her head mockingly, her red eyes gleaming in delight. "Stop what? This?" she gestured to herself, to the perfect replica of Sylvanie's features. "You want to try something different? Alright then, imitating your sister isn't really the point I wanted to get across to you anyway." Her form started changing. "How about we go with something that I'm sure you're more familiar with. Something, you decided to lock in the back of your mind as a mere memory and nothing more…Daddy's…little…Girl." She said as her face turned into Celestia's, except colder, heartless. Her blue eyes registered without a shred of mercy in them. Her hairstyle was the same. Ponytail and all, but the color was silver. Covering her body was a slim suit of armor that she wore during the few times she was on the battlefield. "Does this remind you of anything? Princess."
Celestia's breath hitched, her heart stuttering painfully in her chest. The face before her wasn't just familiar—it was hers. The same eyes, the look of disdain she held when she held her sword. It was like staring into a mirror that reflected everything she feared becoming.
"Remember this, Princess?" Divia asked, but now in Celestia's heartless voice. "Before your mother came and rescued you from the bloodshed that your father was ensuring? Remember how you looked down on those beneath you and cut them down without a second thought?" She cocked her head to the side, her heartless eyes glancing over at Oreon as he was still fighting to stay alive. "Does the human know? How elves really treated anyone outside of our race, especially humans." She turned her gaze back towards her. "Does he know that if this were the version of you he found, his life would have been snuffed out before he could have uttered a single word?"
Celestia's hands trembled at her sides. The wound in her ribs throbbed dully, but it was nothing compared to the cold spreading through her chest. That face. Her face. The silver hair that she used to have, the armor…the emptiness in those blue eyes.
"That's not…" She could barely get out. "That's not who I am anymore…"
"Anymore?" Divia-as-Celestia laughed—a hollow, cruel sound that echoed off the ruined buildings around them. "Oh, how convenient. So, you shed your skin like a snake and pretend the old scales never existed." She took a slow step forward. "But we both know the truth, don't we? The blood on your hands didn't wash away just because you put your sword away. Here, allow me to remind you who you really are!" Divia quickly unsheathed an imitation of Celestia's old sword and charged at her.
Celestia's eyes widened as Divia closed the distance in an instant. The sight of it, the weight of seeing herself charging forward with murderous intent, froze her in place.
"Move. Move!" But her body wouldn't listen.
The blade came down in a vicious arc, aimed directly at her shoulder. At the last possible second, instinct kicked in. Celestia threw up a barrier of light, but it was weaker than before—fragile, flickering. The sword struck the barrier and shattered it like glass, the force of the impact sending Celestia stumbling backward, her sandals scraping against the ground.
"Pathetic," Divia sneered in Celestia's voice. "Is this what you've become?" She slashes again, breaking her barrier and rushing, delivering a hard side kick to Celestia's stomach, driving her into a wall of a building. Celestia's body bounced off the wall with force, but she didn't have time to recover as Divia, still posing as her, drove her knee into her stomach and backhand with the fist that was holding the blade, sending her through a wall into a building that served as a small grocery store for the town.
Celestia's body crashed through wooden shelves and scattered produce, rolling to a stop amidst shattered glass and splintered wood. Dust filled her lungs as she coughed, struggling to push herself up on trembling arms.
Through the hole in the wall, Divia stepped through slowly, deliberately. Still wearing Celestia's face. Still holding that cursed sword, staring down at her. "It's over, Princess, for you, your sister…And the human."