Athena moved like a phantom through the battlefield, her every motion precise and deadly.
The demonic beasts charged at her, their corrupted red eyes glowing with bloodlust, but they were no match for her and the ancient sword, Arthivian.
Her first swing severed the neck of a wolf-like creature, its roar dying in a gurgle as the blade cleaved clean through.
As its body crumpled, the crimson glow in its eyes dimmed, and its physical form dissolved into a cloud of shimmering red particles.
These particles coalesced into delicate, glowing butterflies, their ethereal wings glinting in the storm's brief flashes of lightning. One butterfly became two, then dozens.
Arthivian drank greedily from the beast's core, its engravings pulsing with dark energy as if alive, feeding. Its hunger is insatiable.
