Meta's hesitation lasted a heavy moment, blinking himself out of his thoughts and faltering. He lowered Galaxia, looking upon the face of an old friend. There was a whirlwind of emotions blowing through his chest.
"Velka?" he said in a near whisper. Her deep indigo eyes locked onto his, a flicker of reluctance and pain crossing her features. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still, the chaos of the battle fading into the background.
Her expression swiftly hardened, the moment is replaced by a fierce determination. She lunged at him with a shrill shriek, her feathered wings beating hard to pick up speed. Meta was too rattled to react. His grip on Galaxia tightened, but his reactions were sluggish, clouded by the sudden flood of memories.
He brought his sword up late, her blade connecting with his breastplate with a resounding clang. The force of the blow knocked him onto the ground, the air driven from his lungs. Meta struggled to regain his footing, his mind racing. This couldn't be her… the frail girl that could barely wield a training sword. But that was her face and the moments between the flickering flames in her eyes made him believe it really was.
"Velka, please! Get off me!" He cried, attempting to push her off with his only free hand, the other pinned under her knee.
Velka stabbed at his armor, denting the silver steel with each strike. Almost desperate to force her way through with brute force instead of attempting anything wiser. Her eyes blazed with intensity.
"You left me," she hissed, her voice laced with bitterness. "You forgot me!"
His heart ached at those words. He knew they were true. Meta struggled, finally knocking her back to free his hand and pushing her off of him, snatching his sword from the ground and stepping back. Her potential could have achieved all of this on her own, but this strength and power she possessed was ill-gotten. Meta was furious about that before. Now he was just disappointed.
"You could have become a Star Warrior on your own," he insisted.
"Don't lie to me. All you've done is lie," Velka shot into the air, cold air swirling and becoming large chunks of ice behind her, "I hate it!" The ice was flung down on him, too thick for him to possibly cut through. He gritted his teeth, tucking his wings into his cap and wrapping himself up in it, vanishing just as the ice hit the arena and shattered.
He appeared out of the dimensional cape in the air, his wings snapping back out in the open. That unnerving, steady, and unwavering glare met him as soon as he reappeared. He had to focus, had to find a way to reach her. As Velka launched herself at him, he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a lethal strike.
"You didn't have to take this path," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.
"I did. If I wanted to catch up, I had to." Velka retorted in a sharp hiss, baring her teeth. Despite the conflict in her eyes, she spoke like she was resolved. Like this was the only other option she had.
Their swords clattered and clashed, the metal striking metal loudly, ringing through the arena. Velka's ice spires gathered and flew whenever they threw each other back. A relentless assault to give Meta little room to breathe. He was battered with everything she had.
Meta's movements were precise and calculated, swinging Galaxia with the goal of knocking her out of the air. But Velka's ferocity was nearly feral, her strikes wild and purposeful, driven by a deep anger. But there were hiccups in her strikes that threw them just off enough to keep from being lethal. Whether she was aware of it or not was unknown.
She summoned a barrage of ice spires, the sharp crystals hurtling towards Meta with deadly accuracy. He dodged and deflected as many as he could, but a few found their mark, grazing his armor and cutting into his flesh. Pain shot through him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the fight. He had to sail to the floor to keep from damaging his wings in the fight.
Velka's wings flared, sending her into a spiraling dive towards Meta. He raised Galaxia to block her attack, their blades locking together. The force of the impact pushed him back, his feet sliding across the cold, metallic floor.
"What about your hero, Velka?" Meta grunted, straining against her strength. "Sir Arthur would be disappointed to see you like this."
Her eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you use him against me!" she shouted, pushing him back and breaking the lock. She leapt into the air, conjuring a massive ice spear and hurling it down at him.
Meta rolled to the side, the spear shattering the ground where he had stood moments before. He rose quickly, using his wings to propel himself forward, closing the distance between them. His sword flashed, aiming for her weapon, trying to disarm her.
Velka parried, her own blade spinning in a blur. She summoned another wave of ice that exploded outward, forcing Meta to shield himself. He launched himself at her again, their swords meeting in a rapid exchange of strikes and parries. Each clash sent sparks flying, illuminating the intense expressions on their faces.
Velka suddenly changed tactics, slamming her palm into the ground. Ice erupted around Meta, forming a cage of jagged spikes. He leapt upward, wings beating furiously to carry him above the trap. But Velka was ready, racing towards him with incredible speed.
They met in mid-air, swords clashing once more. Meta felt the impact reverberate through his arms, but he held firm. "Velka, listen to me," he pleaded between strikes.
"No!" she screamed, pushing him back and following up with a flurry of slashes. "There's nothing you can say to change anything. You're too late."
Meta blocked her attacks, feeling the strain in his muscles. With a sudden burst of energy, he parried her blade hard, creating an opening. He moved in close, grabbing her wrist and twisting her arm, forcing her to drop her weapon.
They landed heavily on the ground, Meta pinning her down. "Stop!" he shouted, his voice filled with urgency. "This isn't you. The Velka I knew wouldn't give in to this darkness."
She struggled beneath him, her eyes wild and desperate. For a moment, he saw a glimmer of the woman he once knew, hidden beneath layers of pain and anger. But then the hardness returned, and she snarled at him, snapping her teeth as if she could simply rip his throat. "The Velka you knew is dead! She was nothing!"
Meta held her firm, Galaxia piercing the ground beside him to ensure they didn't move. His armor was battered and bruised from the ordeal, his chest heaving. "I don't want to hurt you," he said, his voice steady but sad. "But I will do what I must to stop you."
Velka's expression was cold and determined. "Then you'll have to kill me," she replied, her voice a chilling whisper.
"Why? Why must I kill you?" Meta shook his head, his grip on Galaxia tightening. "You can make things right… It's never too late."
"It is too late for me, Meta," it was said with a bite, like the rest of her retorts, but there was something sincerely upset beneath it. She closed her eyes tightly, fighting the anger that boiled up inside and forcing her voice to stay steady. "Velka is gone."
Meta was taken aback to hear the solemness in her voice. The sincerity that finally broke through. He leaned down, his hold on her loosening some. He wouldn't argue with that. Seeing what she had become, it was almost certain that Velka was no more. Meta couldn't let this lucidity go to waste. "Why?"
Velka sighed, a jolt of energy making her tense and her hands clench into tight fists. She needed a moment to work past it before she could continue. "I wanted to be like you… you were so talented, nothing held you back. I just… wanted to be a Star Warrior too."
His brows pinched and he looked aside, a mix of confusion and empathy crossing his features. "Velka, you always had the potential. I believed in you."
"And look what good that did me," she huffed, more in disappointment than frustration.
Meta felt a pang of guilt. He had never realized how much she had compared herself to him. "I never wanted you to feel like you were inferior. I admired your perseverance. You were—"
"A failure," she interrupted, her voice hardening. "I was a failure, and you know it. And when I still couldn't measure up… I turned to other means." She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I sought power, no matter the cost. The Velka you knew died the moment I accepted Nightmare's power. I became Arcta Knight, and there's no going back."
Meta's heart sank. He had lost a friend to the darkness, and it was partly his fault. His grip faltered just as hers did. The indigo of her eyes was fully smothered by the glowing violet, her softened, remorseful gaze replaced with nothing but violence and hate. She thrashed and writhed, the air swirling around them as she attempted to gather her magic once more. The chill radiated around them, soaking into his limbs.
He grabbed the Galaxia, a defensive measure that he was reluctant to pursue. "P-please, keep a hold of yourself, Velka." He pressed down on her shoulders, readjusting how she was pinned to ensure she stayed in place. He struggled to keep her down with her thrashing.
"Shut up! I'll kill you! I swear it!" She barked and gnashed her teeth, the cold growing more intense, snowflakes floating up into the air.
He fought the shudder that threatened to rattle him, silently raising his sword, his arms trembling. Velka was gone for good, the reluctance, the memories, they no longer resided in those eyes. Meta took a deep breath, stinging with the cold, and shut his eyes tightly as he plunged the blade into her throat.
The gathering chill flashed in a sudden wintery white, several rings of jagged ice spread from her body in the last effort of her magic to do something, anything, to protect her. The ice traveled up Galaxia and crusted Meta's arms.
His eyes remained shut. He couldn't bring himself to look at what he'd done.