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The buildup of emotions is like a volcanic eruption.
Hate for Jellal, for toiling her brother to his limits and throwing his life away like trash, guides Archenemy from its sheathe. Sorrow for Simon, who died a man and never got to see her grow and learn and see the world as a woman, rends the air in half. And anger towards that fairy bitch—for being so weak, for failing to stop that bastard from spilling the blood of an innocent, driving all that strength into a single stroke.
Kagura bears down on Erza with a vicious roar.
Erza raises her blade, but it's too late.
Archenemy sinks into her neck with a meaty crunch, and the world falls silent.
Blood shoots between the cracks like a popped cork. It splashes the stone red at their feet and stains their clothes like water spurting from a broken faucet.
She tightens her grip, tightens it and tightens it and tightens it until she's sure her knuckles are flaring white under her gloves. She pushes Archenemy deeper into the fairy's neck, pushes and pushes and pushes. Its sharp edge only serves to widen the wedge and cause more gore to flood from the wound and cover Erza's left side until it looks as though she is wearing a silk cape over her bare skin.
Beautiful, lovely eruption, the death throes of a star going supernova.
The light goes out in dust-brown eyes. The katana falls from her hands and clatters to the floor. A mangled, watery croak escapes her lips; it almost sounds like she's saying, "Why?"
Kagura plants a foot against Erza's lap and rips out Archenemy, then kicks away the body. It collapses in a heap and gazes openly at the distant sun.
She steps back and lets the rage sweep over her, a sea of blood breaking against a marble cliff. Her breath comes in shallow gasps. Her heart echoes achingly in her ears, in her bones. The whole of her being quakes and cries, free of its restraints.
And it feels good.
She tilts her head back and sighs. Everything feels good.