The blinding light finally faded, allowing Cruxia to see her surroundings clearly again. She had been forced to hit around her blindly and only trust her hearing and instincts. It was hard to rely on hearing alone since there were many noise sources around her. People were screaming in anger and pain and were shouting commands; the clashing of steel, the rattling of armour, the buzzing of magic and many more battle noises could be constantly heard. It was like a never-ending song. A battle song. A song of pain, death, loss and victory.
Cruxia hoped she had not hit any of her allies while lashing out. She was sure she had hit a few creatures and was certain she had heard metallic clanks whenever she hit anyone. Her people wore armour, but not all did, while each Tenarian soldier wore armour. The chances were much higher that she had hit her enemies. Not to mention, there was no reason for her allies to come close to her.
She let her gaze wander swiftly, hoping to get a quick overview of the current battle situation. She saw dozens of her people around her fighting Tenarians. Most Yxals were not familiar to her, so she assumed they must have been reinforcements who had just joined the battle. Her sister was nowhere to be seen. She could only hope Karilla was alright, but there was at least one person she knew.
Sonder the Sunderer just pulled his axe out of the head of the bulky Anxoyal leader with whom he had gotten into a fight. The Anxoyal still wore his helmet, meaning Sonder's axe had pierced through the material. Sonder's swing must have been pretty powerful to achieve that; from what she knew, Tenarian armour was very sturdy, and the helmets were no exception.
The double blades of the Sunderer's axe were drenched in blood from not only the leader but also the Tenarians he slew before him. And Sonder would not stop with him. He had already found his next target, a female Tenarian who was not fighting with a weapon but casting spells instead. Spells woven out of shining light whose mere touch made the skins of her people burn.
Her gaze wandered to the dead, bulky Anxoyal, wondering how the fight must have gone. Did Sonder the Sunderer manage to avoid getting blinded by the radiating light? Was he somehow immune to it? Or did he manage to beat the Anxoyal without having been able to see him? Each of these possibilities was really impressive. She had no doubt that the fight had not been easy for Sonder, but he was victorious nevertheless. It was a good sign for the eventual outcome of the battle.
With their leader gone, she expected the Tenarians to feel much less confident and motivated. From all the battles she had attended and heard of, she knew the death of the leader of one side usually turned the battle to the other side. Soldiers who had just lost their leader were more than often demoralised and might even drop their weapons and flee.
Cruxia had at least expected a good portion of them to run, but they didn't. She could see irritation, worry, and even anger in many eyes, but so far, they kept fighting. She wondered what or who made them keep going. There must be another Tenarian leading them, another one whom her people had to kill to be victorious. She wondered who it was and where they were. She was hoping to meet them so she could fight and even kill them.
It turned out Cruxia was able to meet them sooner than expected. From all the Anxoyal she had seen since the battle's beginning, the one who had just come into her view wore the most impressive armour, counting out the massive Anxoyal Sonder had just slain. The heavy armour shimmered silver and radiated a sense of majesty and intimidation; the helmet was fully enclosed, and its spiked, horn-like extensions that rose from the top resembled a blazing crown. It gave her the impression that this Anxoyal belonged to the Tenarian leadership. Taking him down would be much more satisfying, but she couldn't achieve that as long as he remained in the air above her.
But perhaps it was not her task to take them down. The Anxoyal had caught the Sunderer's attention; she had no doubt Sonder could handle another one of those winged freaks. All she had to do was to assist those Yxal around her. And she just got right to that as she charged at the nearest Tenarian soldier, bashing her head with a forceful swing from above. The soldier had not worn a helmet, so the lack of protection resulted in a crushed head.
She turned to the next enemy, but they were already dispatched by a pitch-black-skinned soldier with short greenish hair. He had two chains attached to his bracers, which he swung at his enemies. A ball with spikes was attached to each chain.
Cruxia jumped to the side to avoid a blast of golden energy at the very last moment. She had been hit by Tenarian spells a few times in the past years to know first-hand that getting hit would have been pretty painful. They had to get rid of the Tenarian sorcerers as fast as possible.
She set herself in motion and sprinted towards the nearest sorcerer but never reached her destination. Something exploded next to her and threw her backwards. The motionless body of a dead Tenarian soldier landed on top of her; it didn't hurt her much, but it prevented her from getting up on her own.
Since her strong left arm was trapped beneath the corpse, she was unable to shove it off her. The corpse, and especially its armour, was too heavy. She was in a disadvantageous position. Any Tenarian could finish her off without her being able to do much. There were enemy soldiers near her, but only one was moving towards her.
Cruxia pushed, shoved and did everything in her power to get free, but she was unable to do so. If she didn't come up with something, she would end up being as dead as the soldier on top of her. All her muscles proved useless in her current situation. If she had been able to use both arms, she would have managed to get free, but it was impossible with only one arm.
All she could do was cry out for help. She was not the person to ask for help unless there was no other way. So far, she had survived all battles without ever asking for help. She hated doing that, but she had no choice. There was always a first time for everything.
Fortunately, her shouts for help were heard. It was the pitch-black-skinned chain swinger who made his way towards her. He wrapped one of his thick chains around the Tenarian's neck, choking him. The soldier was fighting back, but the Yxal managed to avoid all of their attempts while putting more pressure on the soldier's neck. Her brethren got hit once, but otherwise, he remained uninjured while the Tenarian soldier ended up dead on the filthy ground.
The green-haired man didn't hesitate to make his way over to her. His figure was slimmer than hers; he had visible muscles that were not as pronounced as hers. Nevertheless, she could get the dead soldier off her with his effort and the effort of another pitch-black-skinned Yxal, most likely from the same clan as him.
"Thank you," she said as she took the hand he offered and allowed him to help her up.
"You are welcome."
"We should get rid of the spellcasters quickly. They are pretty annoying," the pink-skinned woman said in return.
"They are," the man replied. "And deadly, too."
"Unfortunately, they are."
"I'm Deamoen, by the way."
"My name is Cruxia. Let's not waste any time and fuck up those bastards."
The man smirked. "I like the sound of that."
---
She blinked once, then twice, and even after a third time, the creature ahead of her was still standing in front of the statue. Unfortunately, she had not imagined him. He was not dead as she had wished for; he stood there in the flesh. He was real. She had hoped for his demise but wasn't granted that favour.
"Missed me?" the man asked, a broad, provoking grin could be seen on his pitch-black lips.
Cruxia sneered at him but held back a sharp comment. She regarded the man from head to toe, realising he had not changed in the slightest over the past decades. Shadow-like veins pulsated under his skin, appearing like dark energy was flowing through them. He was half a head shorter than her, but his horns were much more significant than hers, appearing oversized in relation to his whole body.
His ominously green glowing eyes were regarding her. "It has been some time since last we saw each other, my dear," he said; his high-pitched voice was hardly bearable. Cruxia had neither missed seeing nor hearing him. The nickname he just said made her flinch. There had been a time when she hadn't minded him calling her that, but that was long ago. She was no longer his dear and will never be again. Not after what he had done to her.
"I had hoped you would have just vanished from this world," Cruxia replied sharply.
The male Yxal chuckled. "You won't get rid of me so easily."
"I will be rid of you once I kill you. Remember, this is a duel to the death."
The male chuckled again. "That won't happen. You never managed to beat me before." The way he stood upright and grinned at her, his posture and everything else about him reflected self-confidence. He did not expect to lose against her. That would make a victory against him much sweeter.
She had to kill him for her own survival but also for the well-being of Celeste. If she dies, Celeste would fall into the hands of the warlords, which would only end in pain and death for her. She wanted to spare Celeste that fate. She couldn't explain why she had somehow grown fond of the shorter woman.
He was right that she never managed to beat him, but he had never managed to beat her, either. They had always sparred together and always ended up with a draw. Neither of them had given up despite being exhausted, so their sparring matches had always ended without a winner. But there had to be a winner this time. Only one of them will stand at the end.
Cruxia regarded her opponent once again. He wore no armour but linen and leather clothes instead. He wanted to be swift enough to avoid any weapons and spells aimed at him. Meanwhile, Cruxia wore her regular battle armour. She would be slower than him. Since she had fought alongside him and against him before, she knew about his fighting style. He would try to keep her at a distance while slashing around with the chains connected to his bracers. The end of each chain was split into three thinner ones, and at the end of each was a big and sharp saw blade.
Cruxia's body was mostly covered by armour, except her head and neck. The armour on the back of her knees was much thinner, and her armpits were not protected at all. The linen shirt she wore underneath her armour offered little protection.
Her armour had weak points, and she had no doubt her opponent knew about them and would make use of them. Not to mention that with enough blows on the same spot, even her torso armour, made of black steel, would give in at some point. She had to avoid getting hit in general.
She couldn't allow herself to underestimate her enemy. She wouldn't. She knew how dangerous he was. Like her, he had survived years of war, numerous battles and much more. Nevertheless, she was confident she could defeat him. She had no other choice but to.
She regarded him one more time before letting her gaze wander to Lilithra. She had to wait for their signal first. The trial couldn't start without the formalities.
"We have come here to witness the trial of Cruxia Darkborne. The accused stands before us, her fate in the hands of Verrakhaal, the mighty God of Justice. He will bless her and give her the strength to win if he deems her innocent of her accusations. Her opponent is Deamoen of the Shadowfell Clan. If the accused prevails, they shall be declared free of guilt, for none may condemn one blessed with Verrakhaal's favour. If Cruxia falls, her soul will be tormented for all eternity in the deepest and darkest corners of Verrakhaal's realm."
Lilithra paused and raised her hand above her head, pointing at where the statue's head had once been. "I ask the mighty Verrakhaal to judge the accused now and grant her your blessing or condemn her for all eternity." She paused again for nearly a minute. She moved her arm down quickly as if cutting through the air swiftly. "One shall stand, one shall fall. The trial begins now."
Cruxia didn't sprint forward heedlessly. Her eyes were glued on Deamoen, who regarded her as well. None of them made the first move. Cruxia knew she had to be extremely careful. Any of the saw blades hitting her could mean her head. If Deamoen moved precisely enough, it would be hard for her to dodge all six saw blades simultaneously. She would have to block them with her armour or mace; she could even shatter one of the links.
The links of the chains connected to his bracers were thick, but the chains to which the saw blades were connected had thinner links. They were the weak points. If Cruxia could crush the links and separate the saw blades from the big chains, Deamoen would be less dangerous.
She would have to wait for the right moment to charge forward. Perhaps while her opponent was already swinging his chains, so that she could predict them much easier. Or she could wait until her opponent over-exerted himself so his movement would be much slower. That was not her style; she preferred to swiftly overwhelm her opponent. But since she would have trouble reaching him without getting harmed, exhausting him was her best option.
"Coward!" Deamoen spat as he pushed forward, throwing his arms in her direction. The chains and saws whooshed through the air, but Cruxia avoided them by swiftly stepping backwards. He swung his arms again, one after the other, so the chains wouldn't collide. Cruxia avoided the attack again by making a leap backwards.
She could do that one more time until she would reach the stairs. The warlords had not restricted the fighting area or prohibited them from leaving the circular area. They were allowed to move around without restrictions. The warlords just had to make sure they wouldn't get caught in the crossfire.
For now, it was Cruxia's plan to get to know Deamoen's attack and movement pattern so she could figure out an opening window to attack. Destroying the chains would be her first goal. He would be much easier to deal with once she had disarmed him.
The pink-skinned woman avoided another of Deamoen's attempts, but it had been much closer this time. The sharp edges of one saw barely missed her face by an inch. As expected, Deamoen was much faster than her. She wouldn't be able to keep him at a distance forever. She had to come up with something because she had yet to figure out his attack pattern.
He drove her up the stairs, but the saw blades hit the stairs occasionally, giving Cruxia the idea of keeping him right there. It wasn't exactly to her advantage because she couldn't predict where the blades would go once they bounced off the ground, but at least it would reduce the power with which the blades would hit her.
Deamoen was getting closer and closer; she would have to act fast if she didn't want to be sliced by his sharp saw blades. She waited for the right moment when the chains attached to his right arm flew past her, and she jumped forward, swinging her mace. The swing was weakened by the left chain attached to his left bracer; the mace's head might not have reached her opponent, but it still served a purpose. One of the three thinner chains broke, and the saw blade hurtled away, missing Cruxia's right arm by an inch. It bounced off the stairs and slithered over the smooth surface, leaving scratches on the floor.
Deamoen's face showed no sign of anger. His expression was tense, but he showed no emotions at all. Neither positive nor negative. He swung his right arm again, but Cruxia ducked beneath the chains and aimed a blow at his right knee. Unfortunately, Deamoen quickly moved out of the way, sparing himself the shattering of his kneecap.
They exchanged swings again; the edge of one saw blade graced Cruxia's cheek and left a long cut in it. Deamoen spilt the first blood, but Cruxia didn't feel the pain. The adrenaline rushing through her body was drowning it out. She knew she would feel the cut much later if she would still be alive until then to feel any sort of pain.
Their weapons cut through the air again, the saw blades scratched over her upper body armour and even her right upper arm, but the metal protected her this time. She had no doubt her armour was damaged in the process. She had no idea how many hits the metal could take before it would give in. She did not plan on getting hit again, but dodging or blocking her opponent's attack proved harder than expected.
Deamoen was a very capable warrior. She had known that before; unfortunately, the past decades had not weakened him. On the contrary, he appeared to be stronger and faster than ever. The thick chains weren't light at all; swinging them again and again required a large amount of strength. He didn't seem to tire, and neither did Cruxia.
Cruxia got hit a few more times, but except for a cut on the other cheek, she remained unharmed. On the other hand, the chain swinger didn't get hit a single time, but he lost two more saw blades, leaving him with one connected to his left arm and two to his right arm.
They charged at each other again; Cruxia avoided his blades again and managed to grab the left chain, pulling on it without hesitation. She actually managed to yank her opponent forward, having caught him on an unsecured foot in the middle of a movement, and hit his face with the elbow of her other arm. She had aimed to smash his head with her mace, but Deamoen had managed to duck beneath her weapon at the very last moment. Her ears caught the painful sound that escaped his lips, but she didn't react to it. The situation was too tense to allow her to smile or grin.
Deamoen pulled himself together much quicker than she had hoped for. Before she could execute her next move, he had already acted. His clenched fist connected with her nose, and the sound of breaking bones, followed by a painful cry, sounded through the air. The pain stunned her for a short moment and caused her grip on his chains to weaken. This allowed him to free it from her grip, but he received a forceful kick in the stomach right after. He couldn't prevent a painful sound from escaping his lips either.
Cruxia swung her mace again, breaking another one of those thin chains. This left him with two saw blades connected to his right arm, but he still had the thick chain connected to his left one. He could still swing it to hit her; it was just less deadly than before but still effective.
She expected him to keep pressing on and put her under more pressure, but he moved away from her. She had not expected him to pause to talk to her in the middle of the fight. She was wondering if he was buying time to gather his strength. He was breathing much faster and louder than before, and sweat was running down his face, but he didn't seem to be exhausted.
"You are better than expected," the pitch-black-skinned Yxal told her. "Much better than I remember, at least."
"I was much younger when last we met. I had plenty of time to train," Cruxia replied, taking advantage of the pause just like him. She had spent a lot of energy during the past minutes; she was not close to exhaustion yet, but it didn't hurt to take a short pause to not only give her body a brief rest but also take the time to devise a plan in their minds to defeat their opponent.
He had only two saw blades left, meaning avoiding them was a lot easier than before. She still had to be extremely careful, and her movement had to be more precise than ever. Every step, every move, and every second mattered.
"Your training proved fruitful; I must grant you that, my dear."
"Don't call me that," Cruxia spat back.
A mischievous grin could be seen on his lips. "Why not? You said you loved me. Why can't I call you that then?"
"That was long ago, and I no longer have those feelings for you."
"That's too bad," Deamoen replied.
A mix of annoyance and confusion appeared on Cruxia's battered face. She assumed he was saying this to mess with her. What he was saying didn't make sense in a situation like this. She wondered what he was trying to achieve.
"What are you talking about?"
"I still love you," Deamoen replied; his grin became even broader.
"You can't be serious."
Deamoen chuckled. "Oh, I am serious, my dear."
Cruxia shook her head. "You cannot. You are trying to mess with me. If you loved me, you would have never agreed to duel me to the death. You don't make sense at all. You just want to confuse me and buy time for whatever purpose."
The grin on Deamoen's face became much wider than it already was. "You are right about that, my dear. I was buying time. I may not have changed appearance-wise, not in this form, at least. But that doesn't mean I'm still the same man you were together with all those years ago. I have changed for the better. I became much stronger; I gained powers you can only imagine."
"So far, I have seen none of these powers or the additional strength you gained," Cruxia replied, walking towards Deamoen and readying herself to finish him.
Dark laughter escaped his lips as his eyes started to glow brightly. His voice was suddenly the complete opposite of what it had been before. It was deep, distorted and warped.
Before she had the chance to do something, his body already started to change. Within mere seconds, his linen, leather armour was torn apart by his body, which grew in size rapidly. The creature that now stood not far from her was almost two heads taller than her; its muscular chest had a sickly green colour, while the rest of his body was as black as the night. He had very thick upper thighs and backward bend lower legs, giving her the impression he was ready to jump at her.
From the distance, it was hard to tell whether he had a mouth or not. Cruxia was at least sure he had no nose. She only spotted two tiny holes where his nose was supposed to be. Vein-like black lines ran over his chest muscles and toned abs.
"Are you impressed?" he asked, flexing his thick upper arms. Cruxia had the impression he really had no mouth because she didn't see any movement in his face when he spoke.
"You look terrible," she replied shortly, earning another dark laugh from him.
Deamoen raised one of his spiked lower arms. The long fingernails of his claws appeared to be as sharp as those spikes. But they were not the only weapon Deamoen's new form provided. A long, thick tail covered in spikes protruded from his back. Its pointy could also be considered a weapon, like his horns, which were even thicker and more significant now. Overall, he seemed to be much deadlier than before.
Cruxia knew it wouldn't be any easier from now on. The transformation had happened so quickly that she had only managed to cover half the distance between them, meaning she was still a few feet away from him. Nevertheless, she didn't stop charging at him and swung her mace, wondering how he would react.
Deamoen jumped over her as if it was the easiest thing in the world and landed behind her. Before she could stop in her movement and turn around, his tail had already hit her in the back, forcefully sending her to the ground. She lost hold of her weapon, which slithered over the floor in the process. The pain in her back was immense, but it didn't stop her from getting up again. She stumbled over to her weapon and picked it up, turning towards her opponent whose sickly greenish glowing eyes regarded her with interest.
"What have you become?" This time, Cruxia tried to trap her opponent in a discussion to buy time. She had to pass the time until the pain in her back diminished.
"I am the next step in the Yxal evolution," her ex proclaimed.
"Your whole twisted form reeks of corruption. Whatever you are, this isn't natural," Cruxia argued. She could feel the sinister aura coming from him. There was something ancient but also hideous and evil about it.
"I never claimed to be natural. Sometimes, you must do unimaginable things for the greater good."
"For the greater good, what do you mean by that? And what things are you even talking about?" It was smart for her to ask two questions at the same time so Deamoen had more to talk about. As she knew him, he loved to talk, especially about himself and how great he was. That had always been the most annoying thing about him.
"I found a way to change us for the better. A way for our people to become much stronger. If more of us become like me, we can finally fight back and reduce Tenaria to ashes."
Cruxia let her gaze wander over to the spectators, curious to discover what they were thinking about Deamoen's transformation. Lilithra, the only representative of the Deathchanter clan present, was disgusted by his twisted form. Cestra seemed to be impressed, and Yart seemed conflicted about the change. The opinions of the soldiers who accompanied the warlords seemed to be divided. Most reacted like Lilithra. Some were conflicted, and even a few were impressed.
Her gaze fell on Celeste, who looked a little anxious. She wondered if it was because a Yxal could transform into this monstrosity or because she worried for her life and her own at the same time. Maybe a bit of both. But it was not the time to worry about how Celeste felt. She had to beat her opponent first, then she could talk to her and figure that out.
If she turns out to be the victor.
For now, she knew the fight would be much more challenging than before. Especially since Deamoen could cover great distances so quickly.
"You look more like a monster than a saviour," Cruxia replied; her eyes didn't leave him.
A dark chuckle could be heard, but Cruxia could not figure out where it came from. It couldn't have left his mouth because it didn't exist. "I will achieve that which Sonder the Sunderer could not. I will rally our people and crush those poultries."
"I doubt they will follow a freak like you."
Another dark chuckle left his body. "They will once I demonstrate how powerful I am. Although you grew up in the smallest clan, you are a respected fighter. A lot of people know the name Cruxia Darkborne. They know you fought alongside Sonder the Sunderer against the brood of the first Anxoyal. You were the last one to see Sonder, and you were with him when Inferion murdered him. You may not know it, but our people look up to you, even those who belong to other clans. You are a hero in their eyes."
"And killing their hero will convince them to follow you? Is that your master plan?" Cruxia asked, a questioning look decorating her face. "Sounds stupid to me."
"They will look up to me because they realise how powerful I have become. They will realise how powerful they can become and what we can achieve together. They will worship me once I leave Tenaria in ruins and present them Inferion's head on a spike."
"As much I would like to see that bastard die, I cannot agree with you. Whatever you did to become like this, it isn't right. Every single fibre in my body tells me this is wrong. You were toying with a power you do not understand," the light-purple-haired woman replied.
Deamoen tilted his head. "YOU are the one that cannot understand this power. How could you? You are too dumb to realise what this gift will mean for us. But what do I expect from a bastard-born woman? Your father should have killed your mother after he raped her and not allowed her to give birth to you. You are a waste of life. But I'm glad he didn't. At least your life has a purpose now. By killing you, I will set a statement."
"Try it!" Cruxia spat, gripping her mace tightly.
"You are the last member of your clan, aren't you? At least that way, you won't disappoint anyone when you lose this battle."
"I will end this corruption right now!" Cruxia shouted and charged at him, swinging her mace at him. She expected him to jump over her again, so she swung her mace from above, hoping to hit him in the middle of his movement, but he did not do that. He jumped to the side and executed a swift kick at the same time that hit her hard in the stomach, causing all her air to escape her lungs.
The pain she felt was so intense it made her upper body numb for a few moments, taking her ability to move her arms and torso. She was unable to attack, defend herself or get away from him. She could not prevent the following haymaker, which hit her directly on the left side of her face. It felt as if something exploded right against her cheek; her vision became blurry, and a high-pitched buzzing echoed through her left ear canal.
A scream escaped Celeste's lips as she saw Cruxia crash onto the ground. It was loud and shrill enough to cause several Yxal around her to turn to look at her with mixed expressions on their faces. Some were annoyed, some were impassive, while others were surprised, shocked or even excited. The spectators had mixed feelings about the scene in front of them.
Celeste was shocked, worried and scared at the same time. She feared for the other woman's life and her own at the same time. The punch the monstrous creature landed had looked heavy. She was not sure if Cruxia could recover from this. She knew Cruxia was a tough warrioress, but this hit had just felt different. She had almost felt the impact of his fist on Cruxia's body as if a slight shockwave had been set free. This creature, she believed Deamoen was his name, had punched Cruxia very severely.
"Please get up. Please, please, please!" Celeste whispered. Her heart was racing, threatening to explode the very next moment; her skin was crawling, and an ill feeling settled into her stomach. She felt sick. She prayed to the Lady of Light that the monstrous creature had not knocked Cruxia out. The punch had already made Cruxia lose at least two of her teeth, from what Celeste had seen, so she hoped it would not cost her life as well.
Despite her prayers, Cruxia didn't get up. She lay motionless on the floor, not even trying to get up or move her body in the slightest. Celeste was not the only one who had underestimated Deamoen's power. Most Yxals were as shocked as she was.
Even as the massive creature stomped on her left shin, the sound of crushing bones was enough to let Celeste know Cruxia would be unable to move it if she regained consciousness. Cruxia didn't cry out in pain or move at all. It seemed Celeste's fears had come true. Deamoen had knocked her out cold.
Sheer panic was written all over Theodar's face, and Chesa was close to tears as Deamoen picked Cruxia up and raised her to the level of his head so he could regard her closely. Only at this very moment, Celeste could see Cruxia's chest barely rising. She was not dead and not unconscious either. The area around her left eye had already turned red; it remained closed while her other eye was semi-open. She was in bad shape, but at least she was alive and more or less conscious.
Cruxia was looking at her opponent, who had closed his claw around her throat. "I expected more of the one who slew Coldheart on her own. I expected this to be a much more entertaining fight. You disappoint me."
"You are pathetic," Cruxia managed to say weakly; her bottom lip was burst, and her teeth were bloody. Deamoen's fist was almost as big as her head; it was no surprise it managed to disfigure her face.
Celeste wanted to sprint to Cruxia to save her, but she couldn't do anything for her. Not as long as the damned bracelet was still around her wrist. She may not have a weapon, but she could take Cruxia and drag her away if she could only summon her wings. Unfortunately, she could not do that in her current situation. Once again, she felt powerless, and she hated that feeling. She hated being useless and being unable to do anything to defend herself or the other woman.
She could try to snatch a weapon from any of those Yxal standing there and doing nothing but spectating. But she knew it was pointless. She would be dead before she could even reach that Deamoen. Not even Cruxia's relatives were doing anything. They either knew it was hopeless, or they valued their people's traditions over their niece's life. It didn't matter what the reason was. They were not planning to do anything to save their flesh and blood.
"No, you are," Deamoen replied to Cruxia. Celeste had no idea why they were speaking Tenarian all of a sudden. The whole time they spoke their native language, Cruxia suddenly switched to Tenarian. Perhaps she had done that subconsciously since she had spoken a lot of Tenarian in the past months. Probably more than she had ever done in her entire life. No matter the reason, Celeste could now understand what they were saying, but it didn't make a difference because she still couldn't do anything.
Celeste hated the way the monster regarded Cruxia from head to toe. It made her stomach twist even more. There was a certain coldness in Deamoen's eyes. And even signs of disgust.
"I might have spared you if you didn't do what you did back then. We all reap what we sow."
"Go fuck yourself!" Cruxia spat. She didn't even try to fight him. She didn't struggle, punch or kick around wildly. Deamoen held her far enough to be out of her reach.
"Are those your last words?" The black-greenish Yxal asked.
"I hope Inferion tears your skull from your body just as he did with your bastard of a father."
The high-pitched screech that sounded through the air was not what Celeste had expected to hear from him. It was the opposite of his deep voice and didn't suit his corrupted appearance at all.
A similar sounding noise Celeste's lips as the tip of Deamoen's tail pierced through Cruxia's armour and wormed its way into her right hip. The Tenarian woman wished that Deamoen's angry shriek would have taken her hearing away for a few moments so she would not have to hear the painful scream that escaped Cruxia's lips.
She also had to hear the loud thud when Deamoen dropped Cruxia on the ground. Her heart ached as she saw Deamoen lift his claw above his head, demonstrating that he was about to execute the finishing strike.
Celeste could no longer stand there and do nothing. She could no longer be idle. She could not do much, but she had to do something. She set herself in motion, pushing the two Yxals in front of her aside. She didn't miss the mix of surprise and anger on their faces, but she didn't care. She didn't care if what she was about to do would kill her. She had to do something. She could not let Cruxia die.
"NOW YOU DIE LIKE YOUR WHORE MOTHER AND YOUR BASTARD FATHER BEFORE YOU!" Deamoen screamed. He intended to slit her throat with his claws, but he never finished his move.
The spear that landed right in front of his feet made him stop. Confusion appeared in his sickly green, glowing eyes as he regarded the weapon for a short moment. He turned around immediately, searching the surroundings.
Celeste could have sworn she saw confusion turn to anger in his eyes, which then turned to excitement within a second. The tone in his voice almost made him appear happy about the presence of the creature that had just seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. If Deamoen had a mouth, he would have been smiling widely.
"My old enemy," he said to the winged creature hovering in the air not far from him.