It was time to take command.
"Go, now!" Aster yelled as soon as Miklan ordered his attack. "Get to cover!"
The only one who hesitated in following her order was Edelgard, but even she quickly caught up to the others. Lysithea lagged behind due to her short stature, but Aster quickly grabbed a hold of her and forced her to keep up.
They couldn't stay on this ledge. With the Lance of Ruin in play, they couldn't afford to have a prolonged engagement, at least not in line of sight of Miklan. One throw from that weapon would vaporize them, if done properly.
Aster didn't know how well the Lance would take to Miklan—as according to the Church's reports, he was crestless—but Aster wasn't going to take that chance.
Many of the students were below already, dashing for the wall separating the two levels, but the mages were already launching their spells and at least two axemen were coming with Hand Axes at the ready. "Caspar!" Aster called below. The boy turned just in time to see Aster shove Lysithea off of the ledge, where he was ready to catch her. Aster drew her sword and deflected both Hand Axes before doing the same to the first Fire spell sent her way.
The second spell caught her, blasting her back into the wall and singeing her lose cape-coat. Since she couldn't brace herself for it, the impact sent her vision reeling. Aster landed on her feet, barely. She ended up stumbling off the side herself, which might have saved her life as the Hand Axes returned before she would've been ready.
No one was there to catch her, though both Caspar and Petra tried. In the end, they just ended up exposing themselves. Petra was nimble enough to get back, but the archers ahead of them managed to get an arrow into Caspar's leg—a miracle shot—through his armor. He cried out, and half-hobbled half-dragged himself back to cover.
Aster could barely process what had happened as she recovered from her own fall. Arrowheads lined up with her prone body as she struggled to make some sense in the world. Sothis above! She should've been able to deal with all of that ranged nonsense!
By the time she got up, arrows had fired. However, a wall erupted out of a dark pool in the ground, shielding her. Aster looked, and saw Hubert curtly nod to her. Well, it's a start, she thought to herself.
She shoved herself to her feet and rushed over to the other students, who had been shielded in a similar way from both above and from down the spiral path.
"Professor, we need to retreat," Linhardt said, struggling to heal Caspar's new wound.
"Yeah, I doubt even you could beat a Hero's Relic," the blue-haired noble agreed.
"Dashing as you are, Professor, I have to agree," Dorothea said, aiding in the healing.
"You've tried it before," Ferdinand reminded her. A bitter memory of a bitter loss.
"I know I can't beat it," Aster said aloud. "Ferdinand, cover our flank," he nodded and moved to do so, lance ready to skewer any who would try and get past their wall. "But getting back up to that exit isn't going to go well either."
"But Miklan doesn't have a crest," Edelgard said. "He shouldn't even be able to use it. Without the proper crest, Hero's Relics amount to heavy, bulky liabilities."
"They can be forced into working for you with enough resonance," Aster corrected, her thoughts moving at a mile a minute to figure out some way out of this mess. It shouldn't be practical to do that, though...
It was true that attacking Miklan was foolish, but it would be equally stupid to just try and escape. They had at least half a dozen ranged fighters that would love the opportunity to shoot them in the back, and Aster knew she couldn't protect everyone. Even if Hubert made walls for them, they were liable to get weaker and weaker as he tried, and then the mages would have no problem blasting them apart and then proceeding with the shooting.
If they were to escape, they would need to thin out the ranged fighters, but with Miklan and the Lance of Ruin watching their every step…
Honestly, it was surprising that he didn't strike at them already, but Aster wasn't going to count on that lasting. She had her plan.
"I'll fight Miklan," she announced. "You all need to take out as many of the Horde as you can to get to me. When you've cleared the path, you run for it," she said, seeing the objections forming on their lips even as she said it. "I'll be right behind you. When we get back up there, we're going to seal them inside. Without mages, and if I can tire Miklan enough, they should be stuck down here for a good long while. That should give Rhea enough time to get the proper Knights in here to finish him off. Understood?"
Despite their reservations, they snapped to attention. "Yes, Professor!"
"Hubert, launch me up with a wall."
He nodded, and as Aster took a running start, she vaulted up as the magical wall sprung from beneath her.
She landed in a crouch, quickly surveying her situation. Most of his guards were rounding around the spiral to engage the students, which made Aster's job easier. Two axe fighters stood between her and Miklan, who seemed surprised by her appearance. The Lance of Ruin was held in his grip, and a black mist enveloped the hand—up to the elbow—that gripped it.
A good sign: the Lance was trying to reject him. If she could push him enough, it would rebound.
With a rough plan in her head, Aster's crest flared to life, and she dashed forward.
xxxXXXxxx
Edelgard knew that Byleth was lying. She knew that their Professor would never leave that battle. If the threat was of Miklan throwing the Lance like a javelin, then that would persist no matter how much she 'tired him out'. Unless she beat him, which she lacked the strength to do, she would keep fighting.
Byleth had sacrificed herself for the Black Eagles.
The students took up Byleth's usual formation without prompting anyway, which annoyed Edelgard. She should've ordered it, to make it official. To have them do so instinctually told her that they were acting more akin to a broken horse than the soldiers that rode them.
Still, for the sake of the mission, Edelgard fell in as well.
She hated her position in the formation; at the back, left to let her lessers do the fighting. She understood that this is what they were for; soldiers fought while rulers ruled, but then, Edelgard wasn't ruling this band of students. She was lumped in with them. It was degrading. If anything, she would want to be right at the front, because at least she'd be able to let her mind go as she hacked and slashed through lowborn bandits.
All she was doing at the back of the formation was worrying. Worrying about if they needed her help at the front, worrying about Byleth fighting for her life against an opponent that Edelgard knew she couldn't win against.
Having heard stories of Miklan, before he was fully disowned, told her of a man with supreme skill with a lance, said to be able to match former King Lambert at a mere twenty years of age. Byleth was good, but Miklan was born good. As for their relative skills, it would be hard to say, as Edelgard had only heard stories about the disowned Gautier, but it didn't matter in the end; Miklan had the Lance of Ruin, and Byleth had a mere silver sword.
This was wrong. Edelgard von Hresvelg didn't hide away at the back of the line. By now, they'd cut through the two Hand Axemen, a swordsman, and a mage, and were approaching the northern side of the spiral, yet over half of the total forces they'd seen down here still lay ahead, making their progress closer to a third done rather than about half as distance would indicate.
"We shouldn't be here," Edelgard whispered to Hubert, having had the Vestra heir cast a 'Isolate Voice' spell on them both before they even entered the underground tunnel.
"Where else would you have us, Your Majesty?" he questioned back. Edelgard frowned. Was that...scorn? Maybe it was Edelgard's adrenaline-filled imagination. "I would have us safely outside the tower myself."
Edelgard grit her teeth. Sarcasm? It had definitely been scorn, then; a kind of mocking indignation. Whatever the Professor's intentions had been, she had turned Hubert against his lord. But how? Was it because she hadn't defended him during his and the Professor's fight? Surely he would know that if she spoke out, she herself would have been reprimanded? Byleth had put a sword to her jugular for Sothis' sake!
With great effort, Edelgard forced her rising anger at his tone to simmer and not boil over into action. "Every moment we waste down here, the Professor could die."
"Or you," he reminded her. "Would you risk your life more than absolutely necessary to save her?"
If Edelgard were thinking practically, the answer would be no. The woman was a major liability, and a danger to their plans. Specifically, her crest ensured that she would become, at best, a complication.
But she was the one that stayed up with Edelgard after her nightmares. She was the one that listened. Dimitri, bless his heart, only half-paid attention. He was materialistic in that way; he would lend an ear to a problem, but tended to zone out if he couldn't immediately go fix it. Idiot: he, of all people, should understand her pain.
Well, he wasn't the only one that might understand. Not anymore.
Lysithea had been saved by the Professor too, from her despair. It had been a horrific sight to see a once-confident individual—irritating though she was—break down into tears like that. Yet, afterward, she seemed happier, or at least better put together than before.
Then there were the other Black Eagles that Byleth had helped. They were...better people, all of them, to the man. It was remarkable. Edelgard wanted to be able to do that. She should be able to do that, to everyone. She would be the Empress of the Adrestian Empire: it should be the easiest thing to stand tall and inspire others.
Yet she continually failed to garner obedience, let alone inspire her subjects. She needed to figure out why, perhaps for the sake of all of her people. For this, she was willing to deal with the complication.
"Yes," Edelgard answered finally, as the group was engaging the next wave. It would be precious minutes before help arrived for the mercenary, and it had already been precious more to get this far. Edelgard looked up, seeing light flash from their battle, alongside grunts and screams and battle cries. "She needs my help."
Hubert remained silent for a moment, and then nodded. "If you wish it, Your Majesty."
xxxXXXxxx
Aster was glad she invested in forging her silver sword. After the debacle with dueling Catherine, she had become slightly paranoid about her weapons breaking again, and at the moment, was glad she had become so.
Though she felt the full brunt of the Lance's power—and it was a lot of power—the metal held. But with this power differential, Aster saw no way to achieve her goal.
Miklan, with a regular lance, might have matched Aster in skill, but though the Lance of Ruin was unwieldy with its raw size and awkward weight distribution, it's power was enough to make up for that. With her fearing for her life with each thrust, Aster couldn't focus at all on attacking back. The most she could muster was some token jabs, but those proved ineffective, as even with an unfamiliar weapon, Miklan's battle instincts were sharpened to a razor.
She wouldn't use a Full Release. Even with the increased power, she wasn't sure if it would be enough of one for enough time to either disarm the Gautier son or kill him. Even if she could guarantee that, there was still the problem of her students being separated from her. All it would take was one word and Miklan's troops could come back and skewer her when she was weak, never mind if she had killed him. If this was just some random bandit horde, she might have been able to rely on them not even knowing what a Full Release was, and so she might have been able to bluff after it ended. But no, this was Miklan Anschutz Gautier.
She backed up from an engagement, teeth bared and snarling to show him that she still had fight left in her. Best to show that she was able, rather than reveal her quickly failing morale. How long would she have to hold out like this? How many more of the Horde did her students have to kill before they could escape?
Miklan charged again and Aster met him, deflecting his thrust and being pushed back from the weapon's might.
Aster's one advantage in this battle was that the Lance was trying to reject Miklan. It was fighting him, making him slower and more predictable. Being able to block him indefinitely wouldn't be the issue, it would be having the strength to actually take the attacks.
He lunged forward, attempting a high sweep before twirling it above his head and bringing it back for a low sweep. Aster saw her chance, sliding under the high and vaulting right over Miklan's hair as he swept low, landing behind him.
She whirled around, sword ready to sever his arm—and that disgusting black mist with it—but she was parried. Miklan was slowed from the Lance's rejection, but he was still fast. He bashed her stomach with the butt of the Lance, shooting her across the arena and into two of the candle holders. That much force, from a simple prodding. It almost made Aster wonder if Catherine had been going easy on her during their bout.
But no...no, something was wrong with that.
Aster got up in time to see Miklan flinching, holding the Lance closer to his chest, as if it was hurting him. That was the secret: Miklan was in pain when using the Lance of Ruin. It hated him. It was his resonance alone that was making it function like it was, and with it rejecting him it was more likely that the Lance was using one-hundred percent of its power in an effort to make Miklan overextend, to snap, and to allow a rebound.
The amount of resonance control needed to wield it under those circumstances boggled Aster's mind. It was a shame that such a talent had to die, but then, that was the teacher talking, wasn't it?
Regardless, that information didn't help Aster as the Gautier son charged at her again, this time staying in close for a more prolonged flurry. Aster took each blow, near crumpling under the pressure each time. Her crest did little to help; she didn't need its increased reaction time to read his labored attacks. A thrust into a side swipe, into another thrust, draw back to thrust again. It was almost too elementary to believe it came from such a starkly battle-ready warrior. But goddess above! Each hit was agony to endure.
Eventually, her muscles refused to take it.
She crumpled from a strong swipe aimed at her head. She took it with her blade, which then flew out of her hands. She tumbled along the ground a good fifteen feet, body numb from taking so many harsh impacts. In the time it took for Miklan to get to her, she had barely gotten to one knee, though she at least managed to draw her sword whip, unextended, to make a token effort to defend herself.
Miklan reared back the Lance to strike at her heart, which she could only pray she could deflect in time, and by some miracle feel a surge of strength to get back to her feet.
Only for pure white light to shower her vision.
Edelgard grunted as she wrenched her axe up, alight with her Crest of Seiros. Its power, coupled with Miklan's surprise, was enough to let her deflect it and then kick Miklan away from them, halfway across the arena even. "I won't let you throw away your life like this, Professor!" the princess exclaimed. Aster blinked. Was her lie so obvious? Edelgard knelt down, eyes full of worry. "Are you alright?"
"Fine," Aster answered, forcing herself to appear calm. "But he hits harder than you'd think."
"A joke? Now? From you?" Edelgard's eyes widened with surprise, only to then lower in annoyance. "Caspar?"
Aster thought about her influences, and then nodded. "Caspar."
The hit seemed to damage Miklan. Instead of attacking the two of them immediately, he had dropped to a knee and started crying out. The black mist spread up to his shoulders as he gripped the Lance with both hands. His eyes were closed painfully tight, tears leaking from their corners as he writhed, as if trying to let go of the Lance. When they opened, they were no longer Miklan's. White, blank eyes gazed at them as he cried out. The sound was less in agony and more of madness, as could be seen by those who broke.
Aster knew those eyes well.
He charged, no longer exhibiting the expert form he'd used up to now. Now, he fought like an animal.
He dashed toward the two women, who leapt away from each other to avoid it. He landed, and the impact made a small crater around him.
"The Lance is affecting his mind!" Edelgard called to Aster. "He is no longer himself!"
"We can't beat him!" Aster returned, as Miklan singled her out. She avoided him as best she could, but he was faster now, no longer resisting the Lance's urges. That, or he had simply evolved beyond them at the cost of his sanity. Either way, his wild movements were harder to read than any proper form. Aster barely raised her sword whip in time to take a hit, sending her once against sprawled on the ground.
Edelgard came to her aid, though she was unable to replicate her previous feat. When she tried to parry an oncoming blow directly, she was knocked away instead. Aster rolled backwards, narrowly avoiding a stab toward the ground—that once again created a crater—before launching her whip toward Miklan.
It latched around and got caught in the ridges of the Lance, just as Aster had wanted. Edelgard figured out the plan quickly, and rushed over to provide her crest's strength. Both women pulled with all of their might, Aster's crest strengthening the sword whip, Edelgard's crest strengthening their pull, but no matter how hard they tried, Miklan's hands wouldn't let go of the Lance. In fact, it almost seemed stuck to him now.
It wasn't long before Miklan had enough of their tug-of-war. He yanked toward him, flinging both women right over his head, and landing hard on their backs. Aster rolled to a stand immediately, but Edelgard was slower, and that was who he targeted.
Aster broke into a run and desperately tackled Miklan to the ground, sending them both tumbling. Somehow gaining the advantage of landing on top of him, Aster stabbed her sword through his arm and impaled it into the ground. She then drew her knife and tried to do the same to his other arm, only to have him maneuver the Lance into the knife's path.
It blasted her away—pulling the sword whip free as she still had a grip on it—violently rejecting her as it tried to reject him. Edelgard caught her, and the two readied themselves as Miklan staggered to his feet. "Edelgard…" Aster heaved out a ragged breath. "We can't win like this."
"Agreed…"
Aster looked to her student. "I...only have one idea left."
xxxXXXxxx
Hubert and the others were almost there, just a few more moments. The bandits were just as worried about their leader as Edelgard seemed to have been over the Professor. Goddess, but that woman had completely taken over Her Majesty's life.
But in the end, Hubert could only resign himself. It wasn't his place to question his lord's wishes, only to see them carried out. Edelgard wanted to help Byleth, and so Hubert did what he could to make that happen, leaving only defending Edelgard herself as his responsibility.
So why was there this...sudden animosity? Hubert hated to hate Edelgard, yet she had done nothing to aid him in any of that damned mercenary's games. Should he really be following a girl who so lacked a spine?
The answer, of course, was yes. He'd always follow her, for he believed in her goals as much as she did. Yet, thanks to that damned Byleth, there was a sliver of doubt. A sliver of...insubordination. A want to be his own man, if for no other reason than to be able to want to kill her. It felt good, to want something, truly, as his own desire, not simply as an extension of his lord's desire. He craved more of it.
For that, he supposed, he should thank her, for this feeling that he'd never experienced.
He downed one of the mage reinforcements that arrived from a hidden passageway. Almost a dozen more were ready to come out as well, on their way through the passage even, but a call-out and a particularly powerful 'Thoron' spell from the songstress sealed the tunnel up, preventing further distractions. Though she would like never admit it outright, the ditsy girl had far more resonance—and was frankly more adept at using it—than even someone with a crest like Linhardt or Bernadetta.
The others were fighting well. Hubert would admit that much. They fought well, and they made this job easier. An enemy downed here would be an enemy that couldn't kill the Lady Edelgard.
Ferdinand, Caspar, and Petra took the front, as a break from their usual formation, as they were the best close-quarters fighters they had. Then came Bernadetta and Dorothea, then Lysithea and Linhardt, and finally Hubert, whom the others trusted—for a reason he didn't understand—to protect their rear. His walls weren't unbreakable, for Fódlan's sake. Each one cost no insignificant amount of resonance, and they would only grow weaker with time.
He sent down a 'Mire' spell onto the approaching cabal of axe fighters, scattering them for easy pickings by Bernadetta and their frontline fighters.
Lysithea wasn't doing the same with her magic. Instead, she was using her newly-learned levitation spells. They weren't made for combat, yet she did so anyway. Thanks to the copious amounts of rope the bandits had used for temporary settlement, she could yank away the Horde's weapons with mild regularity, helping with the battle more than Hubert would have expected from the slight girl.
And then, she stopped and turned to him. "What are you still doing here?" she questioned in her usual irritating way. "You're the princess' retainer, so why are you here with us?"
"I am clearing a path for her escape," Hubert growled, continuing to launch spells as they spoke.
"We can clear a path. You can trust us on that," she insisted.
"So you claim…"
"I'm sending you up there," Lysithea said. "You have resonance to spare, and they're going to need all the help they can get if they're going to fight against a Hero's Relic."
"What are you-"
"Warp!" her voice momentarily took on a greater power, like a booming echo, and then Hubert's vision flashed white. When it cleared, he was actually glad she'd done what she did.
The two women looked about to collapse. Miklan had been reduced to a rabid animal from the prolonged rejection of the Lance, and was attacking them relentlessly. Thankfully, Hubert did have resonance to spare, and a lot of it.
And he knew just the spell.
xxxXXXxxx
Edelgard panted as she stuck her axe into the ground as a brace. Her arms and legs felt like pudding, and her head was absolutely swimming. Where was she? Why was she in so much pain? When would this nightmare finish? This wasn't how it was supposed to end!
A dark teal blur shot across her vision as Byleth took another strike for her. Goddess, but she'd been fighting longer than Edelgard had! How did she have that much energy? How could she compete with this overwhelming force when Edelgard could barely stay conscious?
Edelgard continued to come up short. This woman was a commoner and a sellsword, and yet here she was, contending with this Hero's Relic while Edelgard could barely stand. Even worse, she was protecting Edelgard, when she had come up here specifically to do the opposite. How humiliating…
"Get up!" Byleth's uncharacteristically harsh voice rung in the snow princess' ears, and she shoved herself to her feet, knees quaking with fatigue. Her crest flickered, resonance all but spent just enduring this wild thing's attacks. "Edelgard!"
"I can't!" she called back, forcing her axe into the proper grip as Miklan charged at her. She managed to read his movements well enough, getting off with mere cuts before being swatted away again. She rolled, somehow stopping and getting to her hands and knees. "I refuse! I can't do it!"
"You can!" Goddess, but the Professor's voice sounded so distant now. "You can and you will, or we're going to die!"
This woman had taken everything from her. She'd taken Edelgard's rank: to this sellsword, Edelgard was a mere student, of no more import than any of the others. She'd taken Edelgard's pride: each of her techniques were the acts of a novice compared to Byleth's prowess with the blade. She'd taken Edelgard's retainer: Hubert had never questioned her orders, had never talked back to her before today, especially not during a serious situation.
Edelgard felt Byleth grab her under the arm and drag her to her feet. She was yelling in Edelgard's face—the disrespectful whore—but Edelgard couldn't make out any of the words. She was...so...tired…
A slap woke her up. Open-palmed, straight to the face, Byleth had slapped the heir to the Adrestian Empire. "We only have one chance!" the words were stark in Edelgard's ears as Byleth pointed to Miklan, who struggled to move as his body was encased in a dark energy. Just beyond him, Hubert struggled to maintain the binding spell. Hubert...when did he get here? Had he come to...to protect her?
That's right, he was her retainer. Her ever-loyal retainer, who had come to protect her. Just as it should be, even through his insubordination.
One chance.
Edelgard steeled herself. Byleth had taken her rank, her pride, and her retainer. It was perhaps poetic that Byleth at last stole her dignity as well. Edelgard nodded to the mercenary, who let out a visible sigh of relief and latched onto the princess' free hand like it was the only real thing left in the world.
"Focus on my breathing. Match your resonance to mine," she repeated the instructions, and repeated them again, until everything fell silent around them. Edelgard's glove had long since been destroyed, ripped from some attack from before. It had been so long since she'd felt the touch of another hand. It had been since...since her brothers and sisters, as they died beside her.
But while those hands were cold, this one was warm. Suddenly, as Edelgard finally let go—willing to do anything to embrace and be embraced by that warmth—light exploded in her vision. The world became engulfed in it as it spiralled around the two of them, rotating through an array of brilliant collors in gradations.
The warmth remained, filling Edelgard from head to toe, motherly and strict, distant and near all at once. This was Byleth's resonance, her soul, her light.
This was her heart, and suddenly, all of Edelgard's reservations vanished. This was someone worth trusting. She was worth fighting for.
Are you ready? Byleth asked. It was more of a thought than a voice, for the woman's mouth didn't move. Instead, they seemed to share thoughts.
Their interlocked fingers slid away from each other, each gripping their weapons with renewed strength. The world came back into focus, and both women were shimmering in the dim underground cavern; a dazzling fusion of red and white. The demon and the princess were as one mind, one soul.
One light.
Miklan broke free of Hubert spell right at that moment, though the powerful experience left Edelgard unsure of how much time had passed. Hubert collapsed onto the ground, having spent much of his strength.
Meanwhile, Byleth and Edelgard moved to strike, finally achieving Resonance with each other.
It greatly enhanced their strength. It gave them clearer sight, sturdier bones, and greater speed than any one measly crest could grant. Edelgard easily parried Miklan's stab, and Byleth lunged forward, slashing across his chest, and they continued as such.
With each strike they landed, Miklan attempted to strike back. Each time, Edelgard bashed the Lance of Ruin away like it was made of parchment, and Byleth would rend through their opponent. Over, and over, and over again. One strike nearly severed the man's arm, another his leg, another they saw his organs peaking out of the gash, another cut open his cheek, making a grisly, bleeding tongue hang out limply.
If Miklan didn't appear a monstrosity before, he certainly did now, and yet he continued to fight. The Lance still had power. That would soon change.
The two readied their weapons as one. "Together!" They roared and put all of their resonance into their weapons, spun, and ended the battle with a synchronized cross-slash.
The sheer magnitude of the blow sent ripples through the air, cracking the far wall behind Miklan, and completely shattering the floor in their immediate surroundings.
The Lance of Ruin flew out of Miklan's hands, black mist trailing behind it, and Miklan was sent shooting into a pillar, still covered in the stuff.
In the same instant as they landed from their attack, Byleth ended their Resonance. With it gone, Edelgard's mind raced with the usual questions and concerns of trust. In an instant, all of that warmth had vanished.
But while Edelgard was ready to fall unconscious from fatigue, Byleth rushed away toward incoming bandits, who were engaging the students so close to where Miklan had just fought. Had the Black Eagles really pushed that far? How long did that engagement last? The Resonance, it had been so...intoxicating…
"Someone with a crest, grab that Lance!" Byleth called out to the students, and it was Bernadetta who scrambled out of the formation first. Aster crashed into the wall of bandits from behind, allowing Ferdinand and Caspar to trail close behind the Varley girl, though the chaos of the maneuver let a couple of bandits peel off to pursue them.
Bernadetta snatched up the Lance, a look of utter terror on her face from the black mist rising from it, though she didn't seem to experience any actual pain from holding it. Caspar and Ferdinand took up protective positions in front of her, cutting off the bandits from their prize. The others were engaged with the remaining members of the Gautier Horde. "Edelgard!" Byleth yelled. "Finish Miklan off!"
Numbly, Edelgard moved to obey the order, though there likely wasn't much point. He would have bled out quickly from how many times they gashed him. He looked to barely be breathing, and that black mist that clung to him wasn't doing him any favors.
With a blank look on her face, Edelgard raised her axe to strike into his skull and finish him off, but she hesitated a split second too long. Her axe fell, and the blackness fully engulfed him. When her weapon struck it, the black mist repelled her with an incredible force, shooting her all the way to the opposite pillar, where she hit head-first and finally succumbed to the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.