Nyx used time rewind magic to save herself and teleport herself.
Nyx stood at the edge of the battlefield, her breath heavy and uneven. The once-controlled rhythm of her teleportation had become erratic, and the strain of continuously bending space was beginning to show in every movement. Her chest heaved as sweat dripped down her face. Every pulse of magic from Maris was a reminder of the precarious situation she found herself in.
She clenched her fists, glancing at Maris, who stood composed at the center of the battlefield. The marionettes, now numbering in the thousands, moved with eerie precision, filling every available inch of the battlefield. Each time Nyx blinked out of existence, a marionette would rise in her place, their wooden bodies crackling with holy energy. She had no room to breathe, no space to retreat.
But Nyx was not one to back down. She would not lose this battle.
