To start, approximately one thousand obscene and unknown creatures breached the capital city. This was followed by even more foreign creatures erupting all over the city. In a matter of mere seconds, ten thousand unknown creatures plagued the city. The knights of the capital could not respond in time, so the creatures caused mayhem and casualties, which were not severe. Why? Because in under five minutes, every single creature was cut down by one person.
"Ugh, I'm all sticky," Mikoto breathed out, utterly annoyed. Every inch of his armor was full of the black ichor the creatures bled. The foul stench it generated made Mikoto take off his helmet, lest he puke from the smell that engulfed him. "How's it in my hair?"
He impaled Sabre, which was just as covered in the black ichor as he was, in the ground, placing his helmet on the hilt as he studied his form with a scowl on his fine lips. "Should I just splash water on myself?" He pondered but quickly dismissed the idea. The blood was too sticky; he would just end up looking much worse. "I should've learned some cleaning charms."
"Oh, you still look cute all the same," a familiar voice resounded, followed by the clicking of heels. "Rather dirty, though."
"Lyra," Mikoto noted as he took a look around. The section of the city he was in was not that worse for wear. A few buildings toppled over, broken light posts, and pavements, but that was the extent of the damage. "Damn, these Inheritors are frauds. I'm quite literally solely responsible for killing each and every one of those things," he huffed out in annoyance.
"That you are, most impressive, considering you've only utilized the bare minimum of enhancement magic," Lyra commented, though a frown sat on her lips. "But worry not about the civilians. I guided them all to different shelters and made sure the injured were attended to. Still, this irks me. Percival told me he would have an Inheritor on standby to ensure there were no casualties."
Mikoto scoffed, "He's full of shit, it seems. I haven't sensed any significant mana signature acting. But that's beside the point. What the hell are these things anyway? They've got a foreign energy and passive field that makes the average person go insane. They ain't Astrothians, that's for sure."
"You have the right of it," Lyra confirmed. "They're Rhiannon's 'pets'." She started as she gazed at the various corpses of the malformed creatures littering the streets, all cut into pieces or gutted. Their size varied, from as large as a chapel to as small as an average person. "They come from an entirely different realm, one which Rhiannon has conquered single-handedly. She enslaved these things and makes use of their power. Despite her absurd mana and expertise with magic, she often prefers using the obscene and completely confusing power of these creatures."
"Chick sounds more crazy powerful the more I hear about her," Mikoto mused, slicking his hair back. His dirty bangs were beginning to get annoying. "Some friends of mine are fighting her now along with those two Inheritors. I shou-"
"No, I would not recommend it," Lyra quickly interjected, getting a questioning gaze from Mikoto. "You're no doubt proficient in healing magic, so I doubt you feel the least bit exhausted. However, you expended mana."
He furrowed his brows at her reasoning. "You serious? You do know that I have an absurd amount of it, right?"
"I do. But should you battle Rhiannon, then every single speck of mana would count, even the most insignificant portion," Lyra advised, drawing a more confused look from Mikoto. "You cannot take the slightest of chances."
"Relax, Lyra. I'll be fine," Mikoto waved off. "Besides, like I said, I'm prett-"
"No," he blinked in surprise as her usual calm red eyes mustered into a stern stare. He blinked. That look seemed so familiar. Right, whenever he got into fights back in school, his mother would look at him the same way. "Heed my warnings, Mikoto, please."
He frowned at that as he gazed at the distance where the battle was taking place. Agatha and the two Inheritors' mana was steadily decreasing, while Rhiannon's mana had not even changed in the slightest. She was toying around with three Inheritors without even using magic. He reevaluated his thoughts.
("Can I afford to be overconfident here? This Rhiannon woman was able to match Telluris, and if Telluris fought against me seriously, then I would've lost for sure. And Rhiannon beat two other Divine Beasts and matched Octavia, a Goddess. The only advantage I have is Sabre and Harbinger, but even so...") Mikoto heaved a sigh as he rolled his eyes. "Fine, Mom," he drawled sarcastically. Lyra stared at him, shocked for a moment before bursting out with laughter. Genuine laughter that was enough to redden her cheeks. "Huh?"
Her laughter quickly died down, however, as she took a breath. "Apologize, it's just that someone I used to know often said the exact same thing with the same tone. It was always quite endearing. Doesn't help that you look much the same."
"Yeah, you mentioned another spawn of Octavia that I reminded you of," Mikoto reminisced. "Are we really that alike?" he drawled.
"Very much so. Even if you were both spawns of Octavia, you look much the same, eerily so. Big doe-eyes, lush rosy lips, and a button nose with fat still on your cheeks. The only difference was that she was quite the haughty little thing. Though that is a given, seeing as she was a princess," Lyra gave a distant smile.
"A princess of Verdantis?"
"Indeed, some few hundred years ago when Verdantis was still ruled under a king and not a governing body. It was then that the title of court mage was more apparent," she reminisced.
"Were you and the girl close?" Mikoto could not help but probe.
"We were," she confirmed with a small but sad smile. "She was brash and prideful, even before undergoing the 'phase.' But kind all the same, too kind. It was what led her to an early demise," she whispered out. It seemed to be a sore subject, so Mikoto sought to change it.
"So what was Rhiannon's goal? Or was she actually just bored?"
Lyra shook her head. "No, despite her actions, there is always a reason behind them. If I had to venture a guess, it would be to test this era's denizens."
"And she goes about doing that by setting loose abominations that can drive people insane?" Mikoto quirked up a brow at the notion.
"Rhiannon is someone who only cares for strength and what is rightfully earned. Despite the drama between kingdoms, this is a relatively peaceful era. Much is easily gained, and not much is appreciated," Lyra sighed. "I would not venture you to make sense of her. She is a complex individual. But like me, she too had someone she cared for. She is 'humane' in a way despite her actions."
Mikoto made a humming noise at that. Maybe it was true, or maybe Rhiannon was just a crazy woman hell-bent on chaos. Nothing was ever as black and white as it seemed on the surface, but either way, Rhiannon was causing trouble all the same. He watched on in the distance as the battle waged on.
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In a vast expanse of rocky terrain, littered with the remnants of large debris, the ruined terrain stood before them. The biting cold moved through the remnants of the environment.
["Isabella,"] Victoria's internal voice rippled through their heads, ["Focus your energy on enhancing Reynard's strength and speed."] The command thrummed with urgency, and Isabella's fingers moved across the harp's strings, producing resonant chords that vibrated through the air, each tone coaxing with magical energy. As the harp's music enveloped Reynard, a luminous aura circled around him, amplifying his physical attributes to unimaginable heights, pulsing with an intensity that cracked the very ground beneath him.
With a newly acquired vigor, Reynard charged forward, propelled at an astonishing velocity, a blur gliding across the snow. Rhiannon stood poised amidst this, her golden armor gleaming like the sun. With a gesture of her wrist, she gripped her blade and smirked, her voice laced with amusement, "Is this the best you can muster? How adorable!"
As Reynard met Rhiannon in close combat, their movements became a blur for all else, each swing of his spear causing a rumble in the ground. Their strikes echoed through the desolate landscape, chipping away at the ice and breaking down the remnants of stone. Rhiannon easily moved around him, each step almost mocking, her laughter curling in the air. "Try harder, darling. Your speed might be impressive if it weren't so laughably predictable." Amid the array of blows, she found openings, her strikes landing with brutal strength; her sword sliced through the air, grazing Reynard's shoulder and easily slashing through his divine form, drawing fresh crimson against the white backdrop.
["Reynard! Keep your guard up. Utilize your spear's reach to keep her at bay."] Victoria urged, with a quick breath and a flash of a frown beneath his faceplate, Reynard pivoted, using his spear's longer reach to thrust. Yet Rhiannon simply sidestepped with ease, her response cutting like her blade. "I've seen brutes in the past with better technique. Have you trained at all, or are you just playing dress-up?" she mused, brandishing her sword in a taunting flourish.
Yet the battle raged on; snow flurried about them, kicked up violently from the impact of each clash, as Isabella continued to play her harp, threading notes of magic through the storm. The resonance infused the air with an almost palpable tension. As Rhiannon landed another blow, knocking Reynard to one knee and bruising his ribs, Victoria's commanding thoughts echoed once again, ["Isabella, heal him now. We cannot let this fight end on his knees."] The urgency in her tone made Isabella jump as she played her harp with fervor, her melody shifted to a gentle, restorative tune.
With the power of her music cascading through the battlefield, golden light poured from the harp, enveloping Reynard's wounds and mending them with a soothing brilliance. He could feel the warmth travel through him, knitting both flesh and armor. Meanwhile, Rhiannon frowned but kept her guard. "Consider this your last chance, boy. You're merely delaying the inevitable – your defeat," she hissed, her golden aura flickering ominously, as the landscape trembled under the weight of it.
As the dust settled momentarily from the exchanges, Reynard took a step back, breathing heavily, the burn of fatigue creeping into his body despite the recent healing. His gaze flicked to Agatha, who nodded, drawing the battle toward her. In that fleeting instant, he could sense her magic bubbling. Victoria's voice wrapped around them, ["Agatha, now's your time. Take priority, make a creation big enough to keep her at bay while Reynard recovers his stamina."]
With a resolute nod, Agatha stepped forward, her fingers entwining around the air that started to glimmer under her mana. Closing her eyes, she tuned into the rhythm of the world, calling upon the essence of creation itself. The ground rumbled in response, as energy spiraled from her, coiling around the air like a vibrant snake, swirling and pulsating with bright light.
A radiant glow exploded from her palms, pouring forth like molten gold, illuminating the destruction around them. The light sparkled, condensing into a shape, twisting and coiling like tendrils of smoke before bursting into brilliant forms. From the essence, a massive Hydra began to forge itself into existence. Each scale glimmered with hues from emerald to sapphire, forming a colossal base that reached upward. The ground beneath shook as the Hydra's body reared and unfurled, its eight enormous heads bursting forth with a fierce movement that echoed in the hollow landscape.
Each head emerged with force, twisting into the frigid air, serpentine bodies wrapped around one another, glimmering. The world fell silent, save for the crackling spark of creation as flames ignited within each gaping maw, flickering with exuberance and consuming raw energy. The sheer scale of the creation was breathtaking; the Hydra towered above the battlefield, its presence illuminating the snowy expanse.
"Oh, look at that," Rhiannon scoffed, feigning awe as she leveled her gaze at the beast. "A pet? How quaint. What do you expect it to do, pounce adorably?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
As Agatha steadied herself, the coaxing of magic surged through her, and she commanded the Hydra. "Harness the flames!" she shouted, imbued with authority. In an instant, the eight heads tilted back, their mouths stretching wide as torrents of fire erupted forth. The flames arched across the battlefield, a chaotic scene of destructive energy that splintered the air with heat. The fiery torrents splashed against the ground in a consummate display, enveloping everything in its path. Snow turned to steam, the ground crackled.
"Foolish child," Rhiannon's voice cut through the inferno like a blade. She positioned Radiant Dior defensively in front of her. The relentless inferno crashed against her, ravaging through the air like a storm, searing every inch of land, sending crystalline shards from the ruined ground spiraling skyward like debris in a tornado.
As the explosion of fire illuminated the landscape, Isabella, still clutching her harp, sensed an opening. "Agatha, allow me to enhance your creation!" she called out, her fingers resuming their frantic dance across the strings. The notes she crafted melded seamlessly with the chaos, entwining each melody with energy that poured into the Hydra. With each note, the creature's scales shimmered brighter—ultimately doubling the intensity of its attacks, turning the flames into blazing torrents that rippled with devastating force.
Sensing the combined power weaving through the Hydra's form, Agatha focused her will, chanting additional orders that allowed her to bend the nature of the flames themselves. "Let your fires scorch not only flesh but soul!" she declared, the magical words resonating with her spirit. The Hydra's fiery breath transformed into a bitter blue hue, promising to damage the very essence of whatever it touched—a seer's nightmare unleashed.
The destructive presence of the approaching flames surged forward, a torrent directed specifically at Rhiannon, who stood resolute. As the flames bore down upon her with cataclysmic strength, the resulting explosion of light and heat ignited the blizzard around them, creating an awe-inspiring, yet terrifying drift of fire and ice.
Once the chaotic blaze began to settle, and the air cooled, the Hydra receded, its fiery wrath quelled, revealing Rhiannon standing at its center, surprisingly unscathed. Only a flicker of singed gold was evident upon her armor, but she was otherwise untouched as she looked upon the scene with derision. The remnants of their unleashed fury floated around her, evaporating like mist in the sunlight. "Pathetic," she sneered, her voice laced with superiority, "this is all you've got? A mere display of fireworks?"
As the air stilled, Rhiannon's eyes narrowed into a cold gaze, her focus drawn to the Hydra's gargantuan form. With a swift, fluid motion, she launched herself at the creature, Radiant Dior held aloft like a scythe. The golden blade shone with an intensity that seemed to amplify the surrounding light, illuminating the frozen landscape with a glow.
As she approached, the Hydra's heads swung toward her, their fiery breaths crackling. Rhiannon leapt forward, her sword flashing as she struck with a strength that bordered on the impossible. The blade bit deep into the Hydra's scales, sending shards of crystal flying in every direction as it shattered the creature's very essence.
With a series of swift, fast motions, Rhiannon moved around the Hydra, her sword slicing through its serpentine body with a deadly efficiency that was almost hypnotic in an odd way. The sound of clashing steel echoed through the frozen landscape as she worked her way from head to body, each blow landing with power. The Hydra's body began to disintegrate, its components splintering apart as Rhiannon's sword cut through its very being.
The speed and ferocity of her attack left the battlefield stunned into silence. The only sound was the rhythmic clash of steel against scale, and the faint crackling of ice as the frozen ground trembled beneath their feet as chunks of the cleaved Hydra fell.
As Rhiannon finished her strikes, the remains of the Hydra dissipating, Reynard surged forward with newfound energy. Isabella's harp strings sang out once more, imbuing him with an additional burst of power. The spear in his hand seemed to grow longer and heavier, its tip glowing with an intense blue light that pulsed with energy.
With a cry, Reynard charged at Rhiannon, his spear leading the way. The air around him began to distort and ripple as he summoned two enormous water hurricanes to rage across the battlefield. The sheer force of their combined might threatened to engulf everything in their path, sending snow and debris flying in every direction.
Rhiannon's eyes flicked toward the approaching storms, her face calm. She raised Radiant Dior to meet the onslaught, her sword flashing as it absorbed the initial impact of the water hurricanes. The pressure was immense, but she stood firm, her stance unwavering as she weathered the storm.
As the hurricanes raged on, Reynard charged forward once more, his spear crackling with energy as he unleashed waves of intense water pressure against Rhiannon. The air around her seemed to compress and distort under the onslaught, but she remained steadfast, her sword burning with an intensity that seemed to defy reality.
With a single powerful swing of her sword, Rhiannon generated enough pressure to utterly annihilate the two enormous water hurricanes. The air seemed to shatter and splinter around her as she unleashed a blast of pressure that obliterated both storms in a single stroke. The sound of crashing water echoed through the landscape as the waves dissipated into nothingness.
With more adrenaline surging through him, Reynard's focus sharpened as he plunged forward, intent on taking Rhiannon down, his spear one with her elemental energy as he advanced on the seemingly invincible warrior. But as he closed the distance, something in Rhiannon's demeanor shifted—her expression morphed from amusement to utter boredom, as if she were watching ants scuttle in a meaningless patrol.
In a blur that defied thought, Rhiannon dissolved into movement. Her form was a streak of golden light, almost imperceptible to the human eye or any eye really, and in an instant, she reappeared directly in front of Reynard. Time seemed to slow, yet the impact of her presence was immediate. The glint of Radiant Dior caught the moonlight just as it arced through the air with lethal intent.
"Did you really think you could challenge me?" she taunted, her voice dripping with condescension, as the sword tore through the space between them. She swung down hard, her blade slicing through the air with a force of nature, connecting sharply against Reynard's chest.
A surge of pain erupted in Reynard's core, but Rhiannon had tempered the blow—it wasn't a mortal wound, merely a debilitating strike that sent him crumpling to the ground like a rag doll. His eyes beneath his faceplate widened momentarily in shock before darkness swallowed him whole, a glow enveloped his form as it shrunk and morphed back to his original body while the light was shredded away.
Yet, as she loomed over him, the air heavy with the scent of blood and disappointment, a flicker of movement caught her eye—a ripple of energy sparked from Agatha. With a forceful declaration, Agatha channeled her Creation Magic, the energy surrounding her body swelling with purpose. "You will not claim his life!" she commanded.
Her magic surged forth into the air, summoning an endless wave of enormous blades that shimmered into existence. They materialized one after another, thousands upon thousands of them, each crafted with a singular beauty that betrayed their purpose. The blades, infused with Agatha's unique magic, twinkled with the promise of life energy, almost vibrating with the potential to nurture anything caught in their arc.
"Come forth!" she cried, her voice resounding like a powerful hymn as the blades surged forward, filling the air with a singular brilliance. A golden aura enveloped them as they launched themselves in Rhiannon's direction, glistening menacingly while carrying the life-giving essence within them. The blades stretched out like a vast orchestra of death, each acting in perfect harmony, spiraling and darting with absurd speed towards the one who had just bested Reynard.
But Rhiannon, with a flicker of annoyance in her eye, stared down the incoming barrage. As the tornado of blades approached, she shifted her stance and tightened her grip on Radiant Dior. "You think mere blades can threaten me?" she scoffed, reveling in the spectacle of the shimmering onslaught.
With an elegant, almost bored performance, she swung her sword in one fluid motion, the blade whistling through the air like a harbinger of chaos. The ground quaked beneath her feet as the force generated from her swing created a colossal pressure wave, emanating outward with ferocity that rivaled the worst of storms—the waves of kinetic energy rippling through the battlefield with unparalleled might.
The moment her blade made contact with the first of the testing blades, it sent a shockwave through the air, causing an almost translucent distortion that rippled outward. The sheer force was cataclysmic, tearing into the very fabric of the magical energies that Agatha had unleashed. Blades shattered upon impact, the life energy they carried exploding outward but failing to make contact with the destructive force that Rhiannon wielded.
The scene unfurled in a splendor—blades twirling through the air, flashing in the sunlight, then disintegrating into sparks of light in the wake of Rhiannon's swing. The eruption pushed back against Agatha's binding forces, launching the scattered remnants of her creation into the sky as if they were mere confetti.
Amidst this chaos, Isabella moved, her delicate fingers working swiftly as she knelt beside the fallen Reynard, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Stay with me," she whispered, her harp singing a gentle but powerful melody that wrapped around him like a warm embrace. The soothing chords resonated in the air, entwining with the healing energy she summoned, mending the wounds and knitting the fabric of his form back together.
Everything seemed to hang in a delicate balance as Agatha glared at Rhiannon, vulnerability barely concealed beneath the façade she wore.
"While you lot are annoyingly weak, I suppose it can't be helped. You are but young," Rhiannon casually mused as she rested Radiant Dior on her shoulder. "But even while using my clairvoyance to see what you might become, you all are still no match for me. Oh well, I'll still have some fun with you all before you die."
("We really can't win this,") Isabella tried to steady her breath, but fear crept in all the same. Such an overwhelming opponent, what could they even do? Fear and doubt were not a good mix, even after being chosen as an Inheritor, nothing has changed. She was still the same as ever, a scared little girl.