The sensation of the taste of iron in his mouth was intense, his breath shaking with each invocation of power he executed as the strength in his legs seemed to fade. How did we get to this? It was the incipient question in Vargas's mind as he fought with all his might against the enemy that was still fighting him without quarter, when the sun began to set over the horizon.
More than 3 hours had passed since the combat had started with that mocking gesture from one of his enemies.
"I had not realized because they are good at hiding their essence, I give them points for that brats. But they must have thought twice when they tried to face the most powerful guardian of the northern region" - Making a little inhalation, the priestess spread her arms backward while firing a blast of energy at one of his opponents.
- "Something as weak as this I can stop with my own ma ... Kyaaaaa"
- "Azami!"
With the grace of an arrow that flies in the sky, the blast of energy faded on the horizon, leaving behind the split body of the impertinent young woman. When the remaining enemies turned in the direction of the priestess, they could clearly see the incredible opponent standing right before her eyes.
Dressed in her spiritual armor radiating a navy blue aura, in her right hand she held a spear shaped like a trident, while in the other, a shield was attached to her forearm, alongside her whitish eyes that reflected the flashes of his imposing aura outlining his sadistic smile.
She was the guardian of the northern seas, the killer sailfish: Spiritual Guardian Vargas.
"Now that there are only 3 of you left, I will give you a chance to choose the order in which you wish to die" - Just when I finished saying those words, the young women burst into uncontrollable laughter as they doubled over from spasms, letting out tears as if they were possessed.
"But what do we have here? Not only is he a mole, but he is also a comedian?" - From the pool of blood that was the body of the first to fall, a series of threads similar to muscle fibers began to intertwine joining the parts of the body that lay on the ground.
"We are not pathetic as you are, we are the four queens of the deck that the devil holds in his hand. We are the minor arcana of Tarot, but our superiors tend to tell us with affection: the zombie queens" - As the old legend of the Haitian folklore, young women long ago that their hearts had stopped beating. Their skin remained intact as the day they died, lifeless dolls forced to retain their souls.
No more than a year ago, the young women found themselves making their lives like any other schoolgirl who enjoyed roaming the shibuya district. Talking about popular artists of the moment or about new fashion trends, enjoying the sweet flower of youth.
Azami, Inoue, Yumi and Aiko, were four young people who were leaving a karaoke late one night happy to have had a good time. But as fragile as the flower in the valley is, the girls' lives were uprooted when a truck lost control, rolling them onto the sidewalk.
The bodies had been crushed to the point of provoking the repulsion of passers-by who leaned to the sides to watch what had happened. As the hours passed, the bodies of the young women had been handed over to their relatives for cremation. But in the burial grounds where they had been intentionally collected, the bodies were turned over to a grim-looking man wearing a black raincoat.
The only thing the four girls could remember when they woke up was that they were on iron plates like the ones usually seen in hospitals. Looking at their surroundings, they could see that the cold air in the room had condensed on the glass of the doors, but the sensation on their skin was far from being felt.
A woman dressed as a nurse and with her face covered entered the room while the young women remained disoriented. Checking her pulse and other vital signs of her, the expression of her in her eyes caught the attention of Azami, who for some reason began to stare directly at her neck.
Suddenly his body began to feel sick, as if an emptiness fell into his stomach. His mouth that until recently was completely dry as if he had spent days in the desert, soon began to overflow an unpleasant salivating look like that of a hungry beast.
Just a few seconds he barely turned his back to check Yumi's condition, Azami rushed violently against the nurse, hitting her face against the ground while he held her with enormous force, breaking her arms.
The screams in the room were deafening, between pleas and calls for help, the defenseless woman desperately tried to escape from that fierce attack. She suffered an almost instantaneous death when Azami sank her bite into her neck, ripping her jugular as her blood flowed furiously.
The other 3 girls, smelling the ferrous aroma in the air, like prey animals pounced on the humanity of the nurse and like a pride of lionesses tore her flesh with diabolical frenzy.
"Did you like the appetizer that my girls sent you?" - From the intercoms that were on the walls, the voice of a woman began a dialogue with the young women who were still immersed in her rage, until they felt her desires satisfied.
That voice informed them that they had officially died and that no one was waiting for them in their homes, their daily lives had ended and now the only way they had was to be destroyed at that moment or join the Tarot.
Azami being the leader of the group, she stepped forward smiling while she wiped the blood with her hand. When she saw her reaction, the other young women followed her and received the mark in their arms that distinguished them as members of the organization.
Unlike the tattoos received by the major arcana, the Roman number two was marked on his arms, accompanied by a crescent symbol. The minor arcana were considered failures in the creation of major arcana, so they were assigned as soldiers to a superior member of the deck.
With freedom of action, but limited to the wishes of their master, the minor arcana could use their powers indiscriminately.
When he finished listening to her account, Vargas took a few steps to Azami as she slowly clapped her hands with a serious expression on her face.
"If I am a mole, you are nothing more than lapdogs tied to the collar that your master put on you" - The fight began with a punch directly to the face of Azami, who maintained his posture by nailing the soles of his feet on the pavement . From the three remaining wingers, the young women lunged at Vargas who began to block the interconnected blows with his arms.
Like a dizzying dance choreography, Vargas kept distance from his enemies while muttering a mantra while drawing symbols with his fingers. When she finished singing the chants, she took hold of the ground and launched herself into the air while her enemies followed her trying to reach her.
"Air vortex!" - Lightning shot from the tip of her fingers against the pavement, causing the air to begin to ionize to the point of forming small gusts of air that soon created a small tornado that trapped three of her pursuers. Throwing them violently against the walls that were stationed at the ends of the street.
Knowing that continuing a fight in that place would only attract attention, the priestess began to flee at full speed in the direction of the temple. The sensation that she had experienced when making contact with the bodies of her adversaries filled him with a fear that she had not felt in a long time.
While it was true that the voids were entities lacking essence or consciousness to limit them, they were vulnerable to attacks no matter how strong they were. When she launched her first attack on Azami, she was sure that the energy had enough spiritual charge to disintegrate the body in midair. But instead, watching that young woman as she stood up as if nothing, it was something that twitched her nerves.
Just fighting one of them was already a headache, but fighting all four of her could push her to her limits if the battle dragged on.
"I'm already close, I just need a little more and I can use all my power against them" - When the lights of the lamps in the exterior corridors began to look close, a hand grabbed Vargas's leg making it fall hard against the floor of the forest surrounding the temple.
The crash with which her body fell broke her branches in her path, causing some splinters to pierce her eyes.
Even with their spiritual armor, the Loa could be injured by physical objects if their spiritual balance were broken. When her leg was held, a strange energy entered her body causing for a few moments her transformation to wane.
"Look at you now little mole girl, the blood that flows from your eyes makes it look like you are crying" - gloating in front of her, Azami kept her arms crossed from her while giving her a proud look, smiling cruelly.
Trying to get up from the ground, Vargas felt her hands being held tightly by Inoue and Aiko, who broke her wrists causing the guardian to give a cry of pain that echoed in the silence of the forest.
"Are we going to kill her yet? Let's have a little fun with her to collect what this bitch did to us" - Playing with her hair while looking at the screen of her cell phone, Yumi said those words without a hint of emotion. Perhaps it was because her hearts had stopped long ago, but the cruelty of those young women was something that she could not conceive of first hand.
Bringing her lips to Vargas's ears, Inoue blew a strong blast of air into the guardian's eardrums. Like a bullet traveling a straight path, that blast of wind passed from side to side through her skull through the pinna.
Even with the finesse of the attack, the blow to her brain caused Vargas to start babbling with a heartbreaking expression on her face. Convulsing on the ground as his enemies giggled cruelly as they stomped on his chest trying to break the spirit armor.
A lifetime since her rebirth, light had been denied her and she was condemned to live in darkness. The only comforting thing for Vargas, was the fact of being able to listen to the world around her to guide himself thanks to her hearing. But now it was not only darkness that covered her, but her premature silence made him feel helpless.
When that feeling of abandonment shook his being, the spiritual balance with which he supported his transformation completely collapsed. Causing his armor to break with the impacts of the blows received by his captors.
"Hitting her here is no fun why don't we throw her into the trees and chase her?" - With a mocking tone, Aiko suggested to Azami that the four of them should hunt down the guardian as if it were a fox hunt. Intoxicated by her bloodlust, they all nodded to her idea and grabbed one of her arms as they dragged her away.
The loose gravel on the ground scraped the skin and dress of the priestess, who still stunned from the impact on her head, clumsily tried to free herself from the cold hand that held her battered wrist. Upon reaching a clearing in the forest, Inoue took one of the guardian's legs and nailed her teeth in a bite that ended up tearing off part of the tissue.
"I know you don't hear me, but I'll say so anyway. Our saliva, well, almost all of our bodily fluids have a strange effect on living things. Some turn into reanimated bodies like zombies in the movies, but in trash of your ilk. the effect only prevents them from being able to heal quickly "- Chewing on that still throbbing piece of meat from Vargas's thigh, Inoue furiously grabbed the priestess's shattered ankle, throwing it over the treetops.
After a brief flight, Vargas's body hit the ground, breaking several of her bones. The inhuman punishment that weighed on her fragile humanity seemed like medieval torture worthy of the holy inquisition.
She couldn't move, her arms and legs were twisted in poses that were impossible to imagine unless your muscles and tendons were ripped. With the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, the young she could barely maintain her lucidity in this trying moment.
"Listen to me well Ofelia, if I dress you as a child, it is not for you to go climbing in the trees with the other children of the ranch" - It was the spring of 1907, the place, the Las Jacarandas farm. A remote cloistered place in the Puebla Valley.
Ofelia was a girl who was no more than ten years old, smiling and happy to live with her grandparents in that idyllic place away from the hustle and bustle of central Mexico City. Her parents had died of smallpox when she was barely five years old, leaving her upbringing from her maternal grandparents to her.
Throughout the country the cries of annoyance against the political regime in turn, gave winds of a latent conflict about to explode. Her grandfather, Mr. Refugio, had already lived through the horrors of what could be a war and her years of experience told him that at any moment everything would get out of control.
Fearing for the safety of her granddaughter, I raise Ofelia as if she were a child, training her in lasso handling, horseback riding, and brandishing her machete. Sow with short jet black hair and pants full of dirt and mud, the girl lived as a boy who trains for the ranchería would.
Happy living with grandmother Eugenia and her grandfather Her refuge, Ofelia felt that her world was perfect even without having her parents. But all that changed when the fire of the revolt ravaged the properties of the landowners.
On the night of February 24, 1913, the news of the death of President Francisco I. Madero arrived a few days later. When it was thought that there would be some national stability, the winds of change had once again fanned the flames of revolution.
Mr. Refugio had already heard of the barbaric acts of the revolutionary armies, where they came to the towns and haciendas taking everything as booty. If someone refused, it did not matter if it was his sole support, he was considered an enemy of the revolution and his neck would end up hanging from a tree.
Far from material things, Mr. Refugio was concerned about the rumors he heard of some travelers who came to the ranch to forage for their horses. The revolutionaries took any young woman, regardless of whether she was a child, taking them as a trophy to satiate her lower instincts or treat them as mere servants.
Snapping his fingers while sitting by the light of an oil lamp on the kitchen table, Refugio could not stop staring at his hunting rifle and, sipping a bottle of tequila, counted the ammunition he had for when the revolutionaries arrived.
Within hours of the army's arrival, he fired his workers, giving them some money to flee for their lives. His wife and granddaughter were in a makeshift cellar near the stables, covering the entrance with hay and dirt so they wouldn't be found.
Ofelia hugged her grandmother tightly, while thinking about what would be Mr. Refugio's last words: "No matter what happens, even when I'm not with your grandmother and with you, rest assured that I will watch over them together with your parents. from heaven my girl "
Like storm clouds that bring a gale, the sound of horse hooves echoed off the clay soil of the ranch. The shouts and harangues of the revolutionaries were accompanied by the detonations of their weapons in the air, while between insults and derisions they sought to intimidate Refugio.
"I won't get out of here alive, but I'm going to take many of you with me to hell, you bastards" - Refugio's heartbreaking shout surpassed the bustle of the revolutionaries, who answered the lead scuffle that the old man sent them from one of the windows of the house.
Being mere bandits with no military experience, many of them failed to hit their enemy, falling from their horses with a bullet in the head or chest.
"Bring me that bottle Ramírez over here" - The platoon leader took a bottle of brandy by putting a cloth on the spout, setting it on fire while throwing it through the windows of the house.
Galloping in circles around the house, the men-at-arms repeated that strategy until everything was engulfed in flames. In the middle of the smoke coming out of the doors, Mr. Refugio appeared covering his nose with a wet cloth while he held a revolver pointed at his adversaries.
That brave act only lasted a few seconds, as due to suffocation from inhaling smoke, the man fell to the ground, barely able to breathe.
"Grab me that son of your fucking mother, don't let him escape" - As soon as they had him within reach, the revolutionaries tied up Mr. it was an old man.
Tying a rope around his wrists, one of them dragged him with his horse across the field in front of the stables, while the others broke bottles as he passed so that the glass would cut into his skin.
The cries of pain of that unfortunate man were like a sound from the grave in the ears of the young Ofelia, who drowned her tears and cries thanks to the fact that her grandmother covered her mouth; powerless before that barbaric punishment, which lasted for more than half an hour against the poor man.
With the arrival of the first rays of light in the morning, the two women emerged from their hiding place in the ashes of what was once a majestic ranch. The bodies of some horses that failed to escape from the stables gave off a foul odor among their charred fur and flesh.
Trying to walk among that paramo of death, Senora Eugenia's gaze moved from one side to the other looking for some trace of what was her husband. Feeling a subtle tug on the hem of her skirt, she turned to see little Ofelia who was trembling as if she had seen the devil himself.
Under the shade of an old elm tree, Mr. Refugio's body was hanging inert from a rope tied around his neck. The rays of light streaming through the gloom of the leaves barely revealed his torture-battered features, but without a doubt, the bloody, dirt-strewn clothing was what he was wearing moments before he hid them in the basement.
A cry of pain and disconsolate crying came from within Eugenia, who put her hands to her chest, falling to her knees before the body of her husband. Ofelia, who had been brought up to behave like a man at all times, was instilled in her that she should never cry no matter what. But seeing the hands of her grandfather with the wounds of the rope, her hands that many times carried her and caressed her head, she could not help but shed her tears next to her grandmother. .
"What is all that screaming?" - At the distance where an old tile was standing, a man came out adjusting the belt of his pants with an appearance as if he had just got up. When Ofelia's eyes made contact with his, that fellow whistled at his comrades in arms by making them run.
There was no doubt that they were men belonging to the revolutionary army, a small contingent compared to the one who had entered the hacienda a few hours ago. Apparently their captain had left them stationed in the place waiting for a vanguard and the shouts of the women made them go into alert.
It was something that neither Ofelia nor her grandmother expected to happen, the enemy they believed had departed, was in front of them like mad dogs looking to kill them. With what little strength they had left, they began to run in the opposite direction trying to escape their pursuers.
As they stumbled across the rough ground, Senora Eugenia thought of all the atrocious things her granddaughter would suffer if those barbarians discovered that she was a woman. Fearing the worst, when she saw a ravine covered with foliage, the old woman did not think twice and she pushed her granddaughter looking for the brush to serve as a hiding place.
The surprise that Ofelia felt at the action of her grandmother was such that he could not take his gaze from her as he fell towards the bushes. Seeing the expression on her face, she could contemplate deep grief and guilt; something that without a doubt, remained stuck in her memory.
As she rolled lost in the overgrown brush on the hillside, she heard the screams of her grandmother who was hit by the sharp edge of the soldiers' machetes. First her grandfather and now her grandmother, the last people who loved her had died at the hands of those men and with them, her small and fragile world was reduced to ashes.
Knowing the danger she faced and appreciating the sacrifice her grandmother made of her for her, she kept quiet without moving through the foliage as the men prowled the place. The leader of her when seeing that they were only wasting time, ordered to set fire to the grass and shoot at the slightest movement that was in it.
The dense smoke that gave off the dry brush caused some hares that had burrows near her to come out terrified, unleashing the blanket of lead, making Ofelia's heart beat as if she were about to burst out of her chest.
Just a few seconds after the fire began to reach where she was, the men decided to retreat, cursing as they spat on the ground. When her eyes could no longer see even their silhouettes, Ofelia ran taking advantage of the sound that the burning litter made.
Tears did not stop streaming from her honey-colored eyes, gnashing her teeth as she clenched her fists with the helplessness of not being able to do anything to end the lives of those individuals.
From that day, five years had already passed, the seasons changed and the blood of greed in the revolutionary army made many heads roll. Those who sought power did not hesitate to betray themselves, loyalties were sworn on a very fragile crystal and with it, mistrust made them lose themselves completely. Leaving the way for Venustiano Carranza, who did not hesitate to use the iron fist to extinguish any threat against his government.
Ofelia had already turned fifteen, of the life of the hacienda only the memory remained. To survive she sought shelter among some friends of her late grandfather, who really held him in low esteem. Making her work in the harsh sun in the orchards, until her delicate hands became rough to the touch of her.
To hide her condition, she used to adjust bandages with great force to hide her chest and when she arrived that day, she would run to the river to wash her clothes without anyone seeing her.
Her days passed in the same way without anything changing, collecting a few pesos as savings in secret, hoping to turn eighteen to flee. Nothing of her tied him to that place anymore, only the feeling of revenge that lay in her heart, that for many nights made her stay awake.
One Sunday morning at Senor Juvencio's hacienda where she worked, her servants gathered at the entrance when they saw a contingent go by on horseback. A little in the distance, she Ofelia watched the landowner's face with a greedy expression while she fixed her gaze on who he was riding on horseback.
A man with a black charro hat, white shirt and riding pants, on his face you could see deep cuts scars, as an unmistakable sign that he had known the horrors of war.
For her Ofelia, that man was indifferent to her, except that a hint of doubt pierced her heart, as if she had already seen him before her.
"What are you doing standing here, a bunch of lazy people? Go back to your work and don't waste your time" - The ranch foreman slammed his whip against the calf of one of the servants, making everyone run back to their work.
When the afternoon was coming in and the day's work was almost over, Ofelia came out of her hut looking around while she held a bundle of bloody garments. That day her period had arrived and as was customary, she sneaked off to the stream to wash them without being seen.
With her sweat covering her entire body, she thought of taking advantage of the fact that everyone on the farm was attending the reception gathering, to go bathe in the cold waters of the body of water.
While she slowly poured the water with her gourd, she was washing her skin while she gazed at her bare chest. Seeing that the bandage marks had become more pronounced, she realized that her plan to flee from her could not wait for her coming of age.
"Just look at what we have here, so pretty and hiding it as if you were a male" - A feeling of fear mixed with hatred ran through Ofelia's body, feeling as if her legs were paralyzed preventing her from running.
That voice of hers was quite familiar to him, being a voice that she had already heard five years ago. By turning her gaze in the direction of that man leaning against a tree, she finally understood who it was.
Without a doubt he was the same, the revolutionary soldier who had given the order to pursue them. That subject was holding his belt by the buckle, with a mocking smile and lascivious eyes that did not take their gaze from the vulnerable figure of Ofelia. She who instinctively covered her chest with her arms, feeling devoured by her gaze.
While she trembled with rage, that man approached her, rattling his spurs against the rocks of the stream, making her react when he felt her chastity threatened by her.
Like an animal that senses that her predator is about to pounce, Ophelia turned and ran, leaving her clothes behind her. While that subject began to chase her along the path of her until he caught up with her and threw her to the ground.
Holding her against the grass, the man put her hand over her mouth as he tried to cover the screams of the unfortunate young woman, who she could not escape from her when she felt him impede her with the weight of her body.
In a desperate attempt to escape her, he grappled with her subject by taking a bite into her hand, only causing her to explode with anger and hit her cheekbone with a sharp blow, leaving her disoriented. What followed after that, was only the cowardly stained virtue, covered by the sound of the verbena that took place only a few meters away in the main building of the hacienda.
When the infamous act was consummated, her Ofelia had a lost look as if her soul had left her body. That man looked at her out of the corner of his eye and only laughed shamelessly as she put her hand to her chin.
The night that had covered it all was the mute witness to Ofelia's pain, who reacting to the trauma of her rape, wept bitterly as she tried to rip her skin off with her nails. The coyotes howled in the forest accompanying her pain, as if they felt sorry for the young woman who barely managed to reach her hut covered in blood from her crotch.
By the next morning, as if it were a dead person, Ofelia's eyes had lost their remaining shine. She doing all her work in a mechanical way, like a marionette in the hands of a puppeteer.
"Hey Vargas, the boss wants to see you" - Mr. Juvencio had thought of doing a charreada at noon on the land near the corrals, so he ordered the foreman to gather the men who had experience as horsemen to make some skirmishes. Being Ofelia known to be good at taming horses, she was asked to participate in the event.
The young woman turned her face in the direction of the foreman, who felt her skin turn to goose bumps when he saw the empty look she had on her. Making him leave the place, he just finished giving him the order of his boss.
When the agreed time arrived, the men that Mr. Juvencio sent for showed up. Everyone except Ophelia, who in the eyes of the foreman, seemed as if she had not paid attention to his orders.
Seated in the main places next to the railings, Mr. Juvencio and his guest watched the riders draw the lots they knew best to give them a show. Enjoying those two, while they drank tequila and laughed as if they were close friends.
When the show was about to end, the neighing of a horse was heard heading to the paddocks. Riding a white mare, the silhouette of a woman in a black dress and her face covered by a bandana, she trotted making her beast draw lots, while wagging a lasso from one end to the other making the mare jump it.
Completely drunk with the stupor of alcohol, the old revolutionary and Mr. Juvencio applauded, not caring that a woman was riding a horse. Completely brutalized by the hubbub, they could not notice when the woman threw her noose around the revolutionary's neck. She hitting the thigh of her mare causing her to start dragging him in circles around the track as he struggled with his hands to free himself from the rope that was suffocating him.
The man's face turned red followed by a purple tone near the lips, while his bloodshot eyes seemed to abandon his life at the same time as the sound of his neck breaking was heard.
Plunged in her madness, Ofelia barely managed to be stopped when the sound of a revolver detonated in the midst of her present, wounding her shoulder making her fall from the mare. Soon those present surrounded her and taking her by her hair, they dragged her to the presence of Mr. Juvencio, who struck her with a strong blow, tearing off the mask with which she covered herself.
"What the hell did you do, Vargas? Why are you dressed like a fucking fagot woman?" - When Ofelia's true identity was discovered, she was taken to the town jail where she was locked up in a small cell until her punishment was decided.
A few days passed since Mr. Juvencio sent a letter to the capital reporting the crime committed by the young woman, who was accused by the farm servants of having committed murder out of jealousy. It was known to all that the owner of the hacienda wanted to compromise her daughter with the revolutionary, and among the gossip that arose in the town, the mean eyes and the sharp tongues took the opportunity to make fun of the poor woman.
On the last day of the month, a contingent of soldiers arrived in town with the sentence handed down by the capital. The gate to Ofelia's cell was opened and a man dressed in her brown uniform took her by the arm, pushing her to a cart.
During her transit through the streets of the town, the inhabitants approached throwing stones at the young woman while the soldiers tried to separate them from her in order to escort her to the place where her execution would take place.
The swaying of the cart wheels hitting the rocks on the road, seemed to indicate that the place where she would take her life from her was one where no one used to travel anymore. The cool air that caressed the leaves of the trees was a refreshing breeze on the battered skin of Ophelia's face. Making her feel nostalgic for the memories that evoked her happy childhood in the company of her grandparents.
When she looked up from her and gazed at her landscape, her pupils widened as she saw the ruins of an old stone gate. Yes, that place was where everything had begun, where the pain of the tragedy ignited the powder of a revenge finally consummated.
As she got off the cart, Ofelia looked in all directions seeing the ruins of what was once her grandparents' farm. Her old elm tree stood indolently, where it seemed that time had stopped that fateful day.
At the time of her execution, her executioner offered to blindfold him. Being rejected by Ofelia, who wanted to see the sky one last time looking up from her.
"Squad, prepare, aim ..." - The few seconds before the fire signal, for Ofelia were eternal moments where her life passed before her eyes. Without regrets, without regrets, her gaze remained fixed on that blue sky while the tears flowed.
Just as the officer lowered his saber to give the fire signal, Ofelia's face turned to them defiantly as she smiled triumphantly. The place where everything had begun, was the same where everything came to an end. And with it, the satisfaction of a young woman who was able to avenge her grandparents.
The sound of gunpowder exploding, she followed the fierce heat of her bullets piercing her chest, knocking her to the ground. In the last seconds of her life, an officer approached to give the coup de grace, being stunned to see how Ofelia continued to smile even when the cold barrel of the revolver touched her temple.
With the sound of the shot at point blank range, Varga's consciousness in the present returned to his senses. Sensing the cold Hokkaido forest, he quickly reacted to the situation he found himself in. His ears seemed to have healed a bit and now he could hear sounds with a slight beeping, instead his legs were still unable to heal completely.
Crawling, sticking his face to the ground at times, he sought to hear the footsteps of his pursuers who were already close to catching him.
Taking a bit of momentum, he leaned against a tree trunk as he concentrated to summon his spirit power once more. "I've already been through something similar, I'm not going to allow them to make fun of me again" - Holding an old locket, Vargas was covered by a resplendent light at the same time that his armor was forming all over his body .
With her pride hurting from her, the guardian continued to pace her a little more firmly thanks to the help of her transformation. Dragging his injured leg, he staggered toward his temple, seeking an open area where the battle could continue to favor him.
Right in the middle of the square in front of the temple entrance, the minor arcana appeared as shadows surrounding her. Panting with blood still running from her lips, Vargas materialized her weapons while maintaining a combat stance covering her injured leg.
One by one, Inoue, Yumi, Azami and Aiko took turns taking turns delivering blows seeking to break the guardian's defense. Who could very barely keep her transformation active in the face of the stabbing pain in her thigh.
"We're not getting anywhere girls, let's hit this bitch all together to finish her off" - Keeping her distance while concentrating energy in her hands, the young women smiled triumphantly when they saw that the priestess could no longer bear her transformation, releasing her armor leaving it exposed to the final blow.
Projecting like a hawk to a mouse in the meadow, the young women lunged forward, projecting their blasts of energy against the guardian. Who got involved in the middle of the explosion.
The smoke and dust made the visibility for the opponents almost zero, waiting to see their victim completely destroyed.
As the smoke thinned, a figure loomed through the rubble walking while holding someone in her arms.
"WINDBREKER!" - Following that scream, a blast of pressurized air dispersed the smoke hitting the young women, who could not resist the pressure, leaving projected against the ground.
"It took you a long time to arrive, street cat" - For the first time since the day they met, Vargas smiled at Yukino, who on his face reflected an expression of fury when he contemplated the condition in which her teacher was .
Walking up to the altar doors, Yukino gently laid Vargas's unconscious body as she knelt reverently before her mentor.
"What do you think you're doing with our damn nosy toy?" - Azami throwing herself full with her fist against Yukino's face, she was easily grabbed and thrown against the trees surrounding the temple.
To the surprise of her enemies, Yukino's spirit energy enveloped her in a glowing shade of jade green, drawing the outline of her spirit armor with each step she took.
The clouds that covered the moon were dissipating, letting her rays completely bathe the presence of the guardian. With her billowing silver hair shining with the reflection of the night star, she reached out her arms at her side, releasing the lumenfang from her.
The minor arcana still did not know why her bodies trembled when they saw him, but with her actions they had awakened the fury of a beast that would not stop until ending her lives.