Vines and twisting thorns appeared in the path of Cassarae’s blade. She was sent flying backward, all of her forward momentum coming to a grinding halt in the same instant.
It only now became obvious from the corpses that littered the ground, and the spirits drifting off to the underworld, that Cassarae hadn’t taken a single step back this entire time. As though an arrow peeling through the air, shattering the winds and splitting the clouds, she had flown straight and true…
Until now.
Matriarch Valeria gripped the armrests of her wheelchair so tightly that it seemed a miracle in itself that it didn’t explode. There was a pulsing in the air, but when she tried to call on her Aether, she coughed up a mouthful of blood, her body shuddering down to its very soul.
Her body almost seemed to shrivel up, and the blood she spat out came in a rusted color that dried up almost instantly, flaking like the broken metal pieces of a steel bar left to the elements for too long.
This was a woman well and truly on her last legs. But as Cassarae skidded across the ground in the distance—her body jumping, rebounding, and her scales leaving less-than-graceful marks along the ground as they chipped off—it was clear that a broken D-Grade was still very much a D-Grade.
However, even so, as her momentum trailed to a slow, Cassarae managed to find her footing with a flip to the tips of her toes, her claws leaving trailing marks and flying sparks as the marble she grazed across broke and chipped.
One would have thought that Cassarae’s eyes would show the slightest bit of clarity now—just a hint of realization toward the kind of bear she was poking at, the sort of monster she was facing.
But instead, it was the exact opposite.
She could finally feel something other than the fury in her heart, the inferiority set deep within her bones.
A fiery Will pulsed within her, revolving around a madness that had set deep within her own soul. She burned bright, and every time it seemed that she had burned all there was to give, more came—and then more after it.
This was exactly what she needed. An impossible opponent.
Wasn’t this what Sylas did all the time? Wasn’t it the sort of burden he carried on his own?
If he could kill his way to the top of this universe with no help but his own, then why couldn’t she do the same?
Was Sylas truly alone? No. But in Cassarae’s mind, she couldn’t see it as anything else.
He was almost deified in her mind, but rather than allowing that inferiority to sprout, to grow and fester, she wanted to do what she did best.
To cut it out.
On Earth, her blade had been her tongue.
In this world, it would be this longsword in the bloody palms of her hands that became the song of her fury.
Her Executioner’s Blade.
Pulsing waves of radiant sapphire blue came from her body as her hair danced in the air, her horns curling and growing even as she opened her mouth to unleash another roar.
BANG!
She shot ahead, her sword dancing not with elegance, but with sheer, unbridled violence. The core of her very being poured out, one slash after another taking shape as she fought through the storm of vines Matriarch Valeria was forming.
Her ankle was suddenly caught, and she swept a blade down toward it, severing it—only for her neck to be restrained next.
Scales chipped and blood leaked between them, but Cassarae’s canines flashed, biting through the vine and suffering the puncture wounds of the thorns without the slightest fluctuation in her furious expression.
She ripped her head to the side, tearing it to shreds, then swept out her long blade again.
Hacking and slashing, blood spilling from her mouth and over her jaw, she stomped, clawed, and bit.
At that moment, she tapped into a Will that Sylas would have found very familiar—an attunement with the skies above that wasn’t in favor of what was occurring, but instead wanted to press her down.
At least, that was how Sylas would feel.
The All-Seeing Eye and Cassarae, however… they had a vastly different perspective on things.
Vastly.
There was a flash in the skies, and the illusory outline of the All-Seeing Eye appeared, its blue irises reflecting the world below. But it didn’t fully manifest, nor did it take true shape.
It seemed to be watching, observing, looking for something, as though it was close… and yet not quite there.
Then, it shook—and slowly vanished.
But Cassarae herself didn’t even notice it. With her necklace dancing on her neck, and her arms not knowing fatigue, she advanced step after step, her Will only becoming more refined, more savage, more unforgiving.
There was only one thought in her mind, and that was to Kill.
But within that simple thought were the complexities of the matters of her heart—the desire to not stop a single time for fear of what that might mean, the guts of a bear, and the fleshy pulp of a lion’s life’s blood.
Cassarae raised her sword, and it seemed to become a beacon of blue. Its size might have remained the same, but there was an encasement of Will over it so large and so commanding that it grew into a pillar that almost pierced the skies themselves, shattering the roof of the palace and nearly bringing the entire place down.
Matriarch Valeria coughed up another mouthful of blood, ready to raise her hand to block—but then she felt that Will descend onto her.
—
[Executioner (Comprehension) (Bronze)]
[The Will of the Executioner is a lonely path, one fraught with pain and suffering and the Luck of Demons and Devils. To take the Path of Executioner is to be cold in your judgment and unfeeling in your approach, to command the laws of the world to obey your Will—not for the sake of logic, or grace, or the greater good—but instead to satisfy your own vanity.]
[+500% Physical]
[+200% Will]
Cassarae’s blade slashed down from above.
