Vyzen had brought offense.
For that, he could not be forgiven... not by the leader of Sol Invictus.
...nor by the gods.
So be it.
He would not bow his head. His rebellion would continue.
He would bring death to Sol Invictus... and take out his frustrations on his sister's body.
The White-Armored man moved to acknowledge Vyzen's resolve.
He lowered his stance, one arm in front, the other beside his head... hands pointed forward.
A... magic spell?
Impossible.
According to the Wizard's files, the only Sol Invictus Caster of worth remained in City Archangel.
Could it be... a martial art?
No other possibility remained. Tychon was a Martialist. And in his hands...
Fiery mana of hate and discontent swelled up around him. They manifested as servants at his feet, dancing with joy, screeching with fury...
His control was... godlike. There was so much light... so much -- yet trees a dozen yalms away did not blaze.
Vyzen fought the urge to turn away. If not for his bloodline, he'd have been blinded.
The flames... were a promise.
The result... was an attack capable of disintegrating an Iron-Rank physique to ash.
To a Gold-Rank like Vyzen, it would cause death or grave injury.
Concerning its range and potential... there was no third option.
But... that made no sense!
Tychon was Sol Invictus! Sol Invictus was a Guild of gladiators!
But this... with this Skill, there would be no battle! There would be no contest of strength or will!
And... upon the attack's release, it was impossible for the woman to survive.
Vyzen's concentration had waned.
His body was trembling... grasped tightly by the fear his mind so vehemently denied.
That white-armored man... was throwing away his humanity-- had he any.
The woman... Vyzen thought Tychon had come to protect her.
He was wrong.
When Sol Invictus arrived... when he saw the woman's clothes torn, mounted by an familiar man...
--she... was already dead in his heart.
Tychon did not come to save.
He came to avenge.
"NOOOOOO!!!!!" Vyzen flapped his wings, speeding forward, "I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!!!"
A burst of light and sound came from behind.
A trap? Chantless casting? Vyzen did not have the time to discern the attack's nature.
His left wing... he could no longer feel it. He swiveled in the air, adjusting his mana to remain in flight.
A wall of flame blocked his path. He broke through with his fist, with strength bestowed upon him by the heavens.
His entire body was alight, the protective runes inscribed on his flesh beginning to wear away.
The pain was immense... profane power searing through immortal flesh.
He risked everything. To risk less against a Gold-Rank was folly.
He smashed through a second flame barrier. It shattered like glass, cutting into his skin.
Each shard and fragment was voracious... insatiable... They fed upon his mana-- sucking on the putrefied edges of his soul essence.
He felt the wetness of blood running down his skin.
The runes were beginning to crack and fail, bleeding him further... his skin dark and hardened, char-black.
Vyzen powered a kick into the third barrier. It swayed and shook, the force dispersed.
"GRARRRGHHHH!!!!!"
He pointed his fingers forward and sharpened his mana to pierce through.
Again, it was useless!
He slammed both arms against the wall. He kicked with his knee until he felt his bones crumble.
He spun around, his alacrity blessed by ⌈Wings of the Cloud Goddess,⌋ and he broke his elbow into the wall.
Everything... useless!!
"⌈Rune of the All-Seeing: RELEASE!!!⌋"
Clarity filled Vyzen's eyes and mind... illuminating the nature of the barrier spell.
It was... more complex than he could have imagined. His skull numbed upon seeing dozens and hundreds of interwoven mana plates... but its secrets were revealed!
Vyzen sliced through the barrier formation with a swipe of his mana wires... sacrificing the fingers of his right hand to the superheated flames.
And finally... he faced Sol Invictus.
The man stared back at him... two unblinking eyes through the white, emotionless helmet.
Vyzen plunged what was left of his arm through Tychon's white armor.
"I... am the VICTOR!!" He screamed.
pαndα noνɐ1,сoМ ...His body was badly burnt.
...His protective runes were all but destroyed.
A river of blood drained from his injuries... and his life force was all but spent.
His left wing needed to be restored with magic.
The damage to his right... was more problematic.
Vyzen was drastically injured... his constitution, near the levels of a human.
Another fight... with even a Bronze-Rank could prove fatal for him.
But... there was no one left. He'd sacrificed his sword arm to plunge it through the heart of Sol Invictus.
No one else would dare oppose him or his sister.
The mana in Tychon's armor began to wane.
Starting with the head... the helmet wisped away.
Vyzen's eyes widened in horror... not at the face of the dying-- but at a young, blonde wearing a black mask.
"Who? You're-- you're not Tychon ...No, that's-- but I..."
That person... they smiled.
It was a cruel smile.
Moments ago, Vyzen wore the same.
And... *she* spoke.
"You shoulda gone for the head."
...
⊰ burn? ⊱
"Mhmmm," Coraline Heartsong nodded.
⊰ 'kay ⊱
It shouldn't have taken more than two seconds for Beatrice to burn that angel loser into ashes and dust.
She took her time.
...She must have been really upset.
Coraline couldn't blame her. It was almost embarrassing, how bad the two of them got beat up.
Bleigh.
With her 'armor' indisposed, her full attention on overcooking a giant toothbird, Coraline plopped down onto the sand.
Even though her familiar did all the heavy lifting, she was dead tired.
She looked down at the hole in her stomach. Her flesh was slowly knitting closed thanks to the scalding-hot magic of Chases-Butterfly's ebony mask.
--or rather... *her* mask.
The process was fascinating... and it was the first time seeing squishy insides belonging to her rather than someone else.
...It was a little gross, too. There was so much blood but... on the inside, it looked like there was... less?
But... the hole just existing meant that it wasn't a dream.
The fact that she was alive meant that the enemy wasn't.
Coraline had won.
"...Seven hecks, I'm gonna be so pissed if this leaves a scar."
",
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