In the minds of many of the onlookers, the situation appeared bleak.
Arya and Freya's Ravenblade struggled, trying to force their bodies to stand, but to no avail. They had both taken devastating hits to their chests. Blood streamed from their gritted teeth, each of them fighting through the pain.
Their eyes were fixed on their respective ladies, who were struggling for their lives, their hearts pounding. Both felt an intense shame for failing to protect them.
Arya's hands trembled as she lifted herself off the floor. Her right leg was limp, but she didn't care as she dragged it behind her.
The thought of Anastasia dying in front of her—it was unthinkable. She moved a few steps but soon collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, her body no longer responding despite her best efforts.
'No, no, no, no, no.'
