----Chapter 33----
Faetalis appeared suddenly, her presence like a thunderclap. The Trinity of the Abyss and the Apostles froze mid-motion. The battlefield stilled for a brief heartbeat, as if the village itself held its breath.
Her ancient battleaxe, worn but unbroken, dripped with fresh wyvern blood. The blade shimmered faintly under the scattered moonlight, humming with a quiet, savage fury.
Every drop of blood that fell seemed to echo like a drumbeat against the cracked earth, promising vengeance.
In the distance, the screams of villagers and the clang of steel sounded like a chorus of desperation. Faetalis's presence cut through it all like the edge of her axe.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size!"
Faetalis roared, her voice ringing clear and raw across the square. It was not just a challenge but a condemnation.
Her gaze was a spear, sharp and unflinching, pinning down the villains who ravaged the innocent as though they were vermin beneath their boots.
The blatant disregard for life reignited a fire within her—a bitter, familiar anger that refused to die.
The hooded boy gasped and stepped back. "Damn it… that was close," he muttered, pulling his hood up and disappearing into the shadows.
A hooded woman's voice, smooth and mocking, cut through the air. "Oh, what do we have here?"
Dark rune stones, glowing softly, were set just above her chest. She spoke with a slow, cruel purr, her eyes narrowing like a predator. Her voice was cold and sharp, her gaze locked on Azre with cruel amusement.
Then, Gobura turned. He was massive, a wall of muscle and steel, his silhouette blotting out the light of burning homes behind him. He held his swords with brutal ease, his gaze sharp and cold.
When his eyes found Faetalis, recognition dawned. She was his prey now, and the hunger in his expression was animalistic.
The village around them burned and bled. Roofs collapsed under fire, children wailed as their parents pulled them toward safety, and the air thickened with smoke and dust.
Through the carnage, Azre and Enix appeared, their expressions grim. Azre's eyes swept over the battlefield with soldierly precision, her hand instinctively falling to the hilt of her sword. Enix's shoulders carried the weight of command as he herded terrified villagers past him.
Among the chaos, Gorak the insect handler snarled like a caged beast. He swiped at the air, his swarm scattering into a haze of wings and mandibles, his single eye burning with rabid obsession.
"Where is she?" His voice cracked with desperation and hate. "Where is that damn pirate?" His scream tore through the clash of battle. He saw Brooke's face in every shadow, felt the phantom sting of his lost eye with every blink. His rage was not just vengeance; it was madness that consumed every breath.
Then Anon appeared, moving like smoke in the flickering light. He grabbed Tharen's hood, pulling the boy close.
"Come," he whispered, his voice low but commanding, leaving no room for argument. "You too, Gorak. We have other things to do."
Gorak spat, the glob landing with a wet thud in the dust. His glare darted between Anon and the battlefield. "Who are you to order me?" he snarled, but despite his words, he followed. His voice dropped to a poisonous mutter. "When Daath returns, I'll have power enough to carve your arrogance into your skull."
The three melted into the forest shadows, leaving behind the wreckage.
That left Gobura to face Faetalis, while the rune-covered woman seemed to take a predatory interest in Azre. With slow, theatrical grace, she threw aside her cloak. It fluttered down into the blood-soaked mud, as discarded as a shed skin.
Her body was covered with runes, intricate and ancient, glowing with a sickly pulse. The energy within them seemed restless, vibrating with a promise of unleashed destruction.
Her calm mask cracked and shifted into something manic; her lips peeled back into a grin that showed far too much teeth, her eyes wide with a deranged gleam. Slowly, deliberately, she licked the blackened points of her nails, savoring the anticipation.
"Are you ready to meet your terrible fate, my sweet Valkyrie?" she crooned, her voice dripping with psychotic glee, her eyes locked on Azre.
Azre's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword. A cold dread washed over her. This woman radiated a dark power unlike anything she had ever faced.
A power that threatened to unravel everything she held dear. She knew, with chilling certainty, that this fight would push her to her absolute limit.
And then, before Faetalis could fully assess the situation, Gobura lunged. The ground cracked beneath his weight as he launched himself skyward. His two swords arced through the night in a deadly cross, black aura streaming from the blades like tendrils of smoke.
The attack tore the air itself, a violent slash that sought to devour Faetalis whole. But she moved with the reflexes of a warrior who had danced with death countless times.
She leapt back, her battleaxe firm in her grip, her body a blur. The blades missed by the breadth of a whisper, slicing a line through the air that left behind an unnatural chill.
"Is that all you've got?" Faetalis called, her voice filled with mockery.
Gobura grinned, a flash of sharp teeth in the firelight. He feinted with his swords, then unleashed a brutal kick, connecting squarely with Faetalis's gut.
The force of the blow sent her flying backward, crashing through the remnants of a ruined house. Debris rained down around her as she landed hard, gasping for air.
Before either could move, a thunderous explosion shattered the battlefield. One side of the village erupted in fire and debris, houses collapsing like brittle twigs.
The roar drowned out screams as dust blotted out the sun, plunging the world into a choking haze.
From the heart of destruction, Faetalis emerged. She was battered, her armor dented and scorched, her face smeared with grime and blood. Yet she stood unbroken, her axe in hand, her eyes fierce and blazing.
The sight alone made Gobura's heart pound with something between fear and exhilaration.
"This is it!" Gobura bellowed, his voice cracking with manic joy. "Finally, a warrior worth my steel!" His tone dropped, reverent now. "Show me your true strength, hornless one. Give me the fight I've been craving!"
Faetalis dropped to her knees, gripping her axe with both hands. The runes carved along its blade glowed faintly, then brighter, pulsing with golden light.
She fed it with her very essence, her breath shuddering as the weapon absorbed her life force. Her whole body vibrated with the resonance of power.
High above, as the moon bathed the chaos in silver, Astares and Roc soared. Their sharp eyes caught sight of three cloaked figures slipping toward the caves. Danger prickled along Astares's skin. She looked at Roc, her decision instant.
"Go to Mister, little one," she urged, her voice grave. "I'll handle the cave."
Roc rumbled, lowering his head against her with affection, as if to say, Take care. Astares's face softened for a moment, her eyes sparkling like a child's as she hugged him tight.
Then, in an instant, her expression hardened again, her aura flaring with terrifying resolve. She descended toward the caves, a storm in her gaze.