"W-what is this?" Viola stammered, unable to believe her blades hadn't even scratched the chain.
"This is celestial power in its purest form, Viola," Tabatha replied, her voice calm but filled with unyielding strength. "My magic may not be as flashy, but it's enough to counter a demon's touch." She took a step forward, her aura glowing stronger as she channeled the divine energy flowing through her.
Viola's face contorted with rage and fear. She struggled against the shackle, summoning every ounce of her power, but it was no use. The divine restraint sapped her strength with each movement, like an anchor binding her to the ground.
"Let me go, you old hag!" Viola snarled, her voice desperate. "You don't understand—I am not someone you can simply restrain!"
"Oh, I understand perfectly," Tabatha replied, her tone colder now, as though finally revealing her true ruthlessness. "You wanted my grandchildren as trophies for the slave markets. You thought you'd find them easy prey, that I would be an easy mark." She leaned closer, her voice lowering to a fierce whisper. "But you underestimated my resolve, Viola. I have spent my life protecting those I love, and I will not let a mercenary like you jeopardize them."
With that, Tabatha raised her hand, summoning a sphere of silver light that glowed like a miniature sun. Viola's eyes widened in terror, recognizing the energy as pure celestial force.
"Stop! No!" Viola screamed, struggling against the shackle with renewed desperation. But it was no use. The Divine Shackles tightened, draining her strength further with every second.
Viola's screams echoed through the chamber as the divine energy in the shackles seared her flesh, her demonic body unable to withstand the purity of its force. She writhed, her voice breaking under the strain as burns bloomed across her skin. Desperation filled her eyes as she looked at Tabatha.
"Stopppp!!" Viola scremead in terror.
"Oh, you want to talk now?" Tabatha's voice was cold, edged with satisfaction as she watched Viola's defiance crumble.
"Please," Viola rasped, her voice hoarse with pain. "Let me go. I'll change. I'll devote myself to redemption… to serve the weak. I'll do anything."
Tabatha regarded her with a hard gaze.
"*Valkyrie's Judgment,*"
she chanted, her voice ringing with authority. Instantly, more chains materialized, binding Viola's arms and legs, lifting her until she hung helpless in midair. Behind her, a spectral figure emerged—a Valkyrie, radiant and otherworldly. With a disturbingly tender gesture, the Valkyrie wrapped her left arm around Viola's waist, her chin resting close to Viola's, as though in an intimate embrace. But in her right hand, she held a massive, gleaming sword poised at Viola's neck, ready to strike at Tabatha's command.
Panic filled Viola's face as she twisted against the restraints. She tried to process what she was seeing. *How could Tabatha summon a Valkyrie—an actual Valkyrie—with a simple manifestation spell?* A terrifying thought crossed her mind. *Just who is this woman?*
"Please," Viola gasped, her tone desperate, remorseful. "I'll atone, I swear. I'll dedicate my life to undoing the harm I've done."
"Regretting things now, are we?" Tabatha leaned in close, scrutinizing Viola's expression. With the Valkyrie's presence, she could peer into Viola's heart, sensing the truth—or falsehood—of her words. "Your words sound convincing enough."
Tabatha's eyes softened slightly as she glimpsed into Viola's history: a commoner born into poverty, sold as a slave, molded into a killer, and eventually commanding fear as a captain. "Quite the story you have, Viola," she murmured. "A child who clawed her way out of the dirt, only to become a weapon for others."
Viola's eyes glistened as Tabatha spoke, something like hope stirring in her chest.
"Maybe I can use you somehow," Tabatha mused aloud. "Are you truly willing to change?"
"Yes," Viola said, her voice steady with a newfound resolve. "Absolutely, I am."
Tabatha watched her intently, as though weighing something. Viola held her breath, clinging to the hope that maybe—just maybe—she would be granted mercy.
"Looks convincing enough," Tabatha said thoughtfully.
Viola sagged in relief, closing her eyes, nodding. But the relief was short-lived.
In a single step, Tabatha backed away, snapping her fingers.
The Valkyrie's face twisted into a cold, eerie smile as she drew her blade across Viola's throat in one swift, clean motion. *Slash.*
Blood sprayed from Viola's neck, her eyes widening in shock as the life began to drain from her body.
"But I still can't risk it,"
Tabatha murmured, her tone almost regretful. She turned her back on the scene as the Valkyrie lifted Viola's limp form with her, cradling it with a gentleness at odds with her violent act, before ascending into the darkness and vanishing.
"I do not like lose ends. Plus this is more convenient."
"Rest in peace, child," Tabatha whispered softly, a flicker of sorrow in her voice as she walked away from the empty, blood-stained chamber.
"Now, what do I do next?" Tabatha mused, her mind wandering as she walked through the wreckage of the church.
"This old age is really getting to me, huh," she thought with a wry smile. Despite the chaos she'd orchestrated, there was a moment of reflection. *Was it the years catching up to her? Or the weight of the secrets she carried?*
Her gaze swept the burning ruins. "Now that Viola is taken care of, I have to deal with her subordinates. Hopefully, they've finished the massacre," she muttered to herself.
The devastation around her was staggering, and the fire was consuming the last remnants of the church. The bloodshed had been swift. Her enemies were gone, and her goal was nearly complete.
She made her way toward the church's treasury. Her instincts told her the mercenaries would have gone there to plunder what was left. As she approached, she could already see the smoke rising from the charred records—the detailed accounts of the awakening process. Most of the important documents had been destroyed in the fire.
"Did Viola mention our deal to any of her subordinates?" Tabatha wondered aloud. She had doubts. But even so, she trusted that Viola hadn't betrayed her—after all, the woman had been a mere pawn. *And she never knew my true form,* Tabatha mused. *No one knows it. I still hold the advantage.*
By the time Tabatha reached the treasury, it was clear the mercenaries had already helped themselves. She scowled at the sight of the looted shelves. Not even the faintest trace of integrity remained in the criminals who had followed Viola's lead.
Her face hardened, and she immediately decided on her next course of action. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned her divine chains. They shot out and wrapped around the mercenaries, pulling them violently into the fire. Screams filled the air for a brief moment, but they were quickly drowned by the crackling flames.
With the mercenaries dispatched, Tabatha turned her attention to the treasury's contents. She carefully gathered as much wealth as she could—enough to carry in a single load. Gold, jewels, rare artifacts, all for herself.
"Perfect," she murmured as she examined her spoils. She knew exactly how to turn the situation to her advantage. *Now, with Viola gone, she'll be blamed for keeping all the loot to herself and abandoning her crew.* Tabatha couldn't help but feel a fleeting sense of satisfaction. The narrative would play out exactly as she intended.
But then, she heard the distant sound of approaching guards. Her sharp senses picked up the clatter of armor and the rhythmic footfalls of the local patrols. A faint sense of urgency crept into her chest.
"Time to leave," she whispered to herself, slipping into the shadows. She observed the guards from a distance, watching the last remnants of the church burn.
"Ashes to ashes," Tabatha said quietly, her tone neutral.
As the fire continued to rage, she walked away from the scene. The chaos was left behind, and she turned her focus back to her grandchildren. The day had gone as planned. And with a final glance at the church, she disappeared into the night, her mind already moving to the next step in her long, dangerous game.