Maris stood her ground, sweat beading on her forehead as the vines continued to lash out at her. The air was thick with the scent of earth and vegetation, and each time the woman struck, the labyrinth itself seemed to pulse in rhythm with her movements, lending her more power.
The woman's smile was cold, unwavering, as if she had all the time in the world to toy with Maris. Yet, despite the relentless assault, Maris didn't show fear. If anything, her resolve grew stronger.
She could feel the labyrinth working against her. The plants, the vines, even the tiny insects buzzing around—all seemed to answer to the woman's call. She wasn't just controlling the surroundings; she was one with them, and they obeyed her unconditionally.
But Maris wasn't the Saint for nothing. With a deep breath, she focused on her reality-bending ability. If the labyrinth is her ally, then it should be my ally too.
