Chapter Twenty-Six: An Arsenal Of Viciousness

Valda and Cressa breathed out harshly as they scowled at the woman standing in front of them. 

They've been fighting her for almost an hour. And Valda begrudgingly admitted that this woman was strong. Strong enough to take them on. 

The woman slowly jabbed out her tongue and licked the edge of the blade of her double-bitted axe whilst keeping her feline eyes on them. Valda glared at the labrys in her hand. 

"Already tired?" The woman challenged sweetly, still smiling at them. Valda gnashed her teeth at the pure mockery dancing behind her enemy's eyes. 

Cressa growled. "Quiet down, demon." She spread her hands out, shooting out her horrendous veins at the lady and wresting the axe directly out of her hands. 

"Do it now!" Cressa yelled. 

Valda growled before raising her wooden staff again. With a snarl, she released Gariona onto the unarmed woman. 

The woman simply smiled at them. Valda loathed it. Despised how nonchalant and relaxed she was even while battling against two formidable enemies. 

The outrage fueled her forward and the desire to smash the hard head of Gariona against the woman's temple conquered every sense in her fibre. 

With a raucous cry, she propelled forward and unleashed Gariona onto the still, unarmed woman. 

Valda realized it was too soon to celebrate. Because the labrys floated up in the air, gleaming with magic. Before her Gariona could cause any harm to the woman, the double-bitted axe appeared in front of the woman, immediately warding off Gariona and protecting it's holder. 

"That fucking labrys." Valda cursed under her breath. 

"Tch, tch. Try not to revile the weapon, darling." The woman said, her voice dripping with a honey-like sweetness. "Accuse your weakness." 

Valda's spine immediately locked at that. A familiar voice rang inside her head, carving out those cruel words for her to hear. 

You are weak. 

You are weak. 

You are weak. 

You are weak. 

You are weak. 

She gritted her teeth before throwing herself at the woman, completely disregarding the protests of the Guardian standing beside her. Valda didn't understand what came over her but the desperate urge to prove herself right burned within her. With that very feeling holding her at its mercy, she unleashed herself on the woman, attacking her over and over again. 

Wood clashed with blade, weapon warred with weapon and hearts spoke to each other of cold-blooded murder. 

And Valda couldn't stop. She couldn't think. She felt nothing. 

However, every time the woman dodged or blocked her attacks and grinned at her, those barbarous words in Valda's head grew stronger and louder. It resounded inside her, trying to conquer her wholly and fully. 

But Valda pushed forward, just like she always did. Because she knew that the moment she acknowledged those words, that's when she'll lose. 

She clenched her fists. 

She'd never do that. She'd not fail Ayra. She'd not fail Neslyn. She'd not fail her duty as a warrior. 

With another growl, she continued attacking and attacking and attacking. The woman raised her labrys and brutally swung it against Gariona. Valda slackened her hold on the weapon, immediately sending her wooden staff flying onto the ground. 

The woman licked her lips and grinned sensually before raising her weapon again. 

Veins wrapped itself around her limp body and fiercely pulled her back from the vicious attack. 

"Are you insane?! You could've been killed!" Cressa yelled. "Damn you!" 

Valda didn't answer. She couldn't. She realized she was at fault. She knew that her actions demanded an invitation from death itself. For the first time ever, she was unable to shout back at the viper. 

"Fuck this." Cressa exhaled before closing her eyes. 

Valda tasted the magic before she saw what was happening. The viper breathed in sharply and Valda, in absolute amazement saw thick, poisonous vines flow out of her hands like a venomous cascade. The vines stilled when its tips graced the ground and in a flash, bundled up and molded into the shape of two massive war clubs. Thistles slowly erupted on the surface, oozing with deadly venom that carried the essence of death. 

Valda couldn't believe this. 

They were vines--vines that had just twisted into the shape of those gigantic and heavy weapons--

"How are you even---?" Valda shut her mouth when Cressa glared down at her, challenging her to remark on her creations. 

"They are just vines." The witch breathed out at last.

"I can assure you that these vine-made clubs are better than that twig of yours." Cressa gestured towards Valda's fallen Gariona. 

"Fuck y--" Valda began but the viper cut her off. 

"Stay back and reflect on your actions, witch. I'll take it from here."

Valda was dumbfounded. The woman, their atrocious enemy, who she had assumed to be powerful than them was no match for the Guardian now. 

The viper didn't fight. Instead, she danced. 

She grew tongue-tied and mind blown when the viper slithered away from their enemy's attacks like a serpent. She saw the way the viper moved with those two heavy war clubs made of nothing but solidified veins and toxic thistles. She saw the Guardian's true battling skills. 

Valda was cruelly reminded that she had been holding the Guardian back. 

You are weak. You are useless. You shall never succeed. And you shall make sure of it. 

You are your worst enemy. 

She clenched her eyes shut and frantically attempted to escape those sharp words that etched deep into her mind. But Valda found it rather futile, for it was the words of truth. Truth that was unpleasant and truth that was pitiless to her. 

And Valda hated no one other than herself in that very moment. 

A harsh, loud cry pulled her away from her treacherous thoughts. 

Valda raised her head and all thoughts flew out as she witnessed the scene in front of her. 

The woman knelt down on the ground, harshly holding the side of her bloodied arm and glared up at the Guardian. 

Valda slid her eyes to the viper, who simply looked down at the woman with an expression of cold indifference. 

Cressa Theagen looked more like an assassin than a Guardian now. 

An assassin, Valda shivered. Cressa Theagen was the infamous assassin of the north before all of this. 

The demon snarled, 

"You will not win this. We won't let you win."

Cressa didn't respond, instead, with lethal calm, she simply lifted one of her vein-made clubs high up in the air---as if to attack. Dark, venomous fluid overflowed out from the thorns and streamed to the cold earth. 

The woman didn't move a muscle. She remained kneeling on the ground and gazing deep into the Guardian's eyes. 

Cressa's grip tightened. 

Valda held her breath. 

Something snapped and the earth trembled. 

Valda held her ground and Cressa immediately leapt away from the woman. The tremor stopped after a few seconds. It was short but Valda knew there was a reason behind this disturbance. It was unusual and it seemed to hold a message.

The woman slowly straightened up to her feet. She smiled, a malicious one. And tilted her head at them. 

Valda and Cressa grew alert. 

"You all have failed. It's past the point of no return now." She grinned like a maniac. 

They didn't respond. 

She slowly placed her palms on her chest, fingers open and splayed. With a chuckle, she just said, 

"Die."

And plunged her fingers deep into the flesh and tore it apart. 

Valda, with complete horror, witnessed the woman's chest being ripped apart by her fingers. But what lived inside was not flesh and bone and blood. 

But just a hollow and an empty space embraced by darkness. 

Valda grew sick in the stomach. It was such an inhumane sight. A sight that would haunt her forever. 

Magic surged out in the air and something rippled inside the woman's chest. 

Sharp tips of various weapons began to peek out from that hollow space and made its appearance under the pale light of the quiet moon. 

Valda and Cressa involuntarily took a cautious step back at the horrendous sight breathing before them. 

The woman jerked her head back and began screaming her lungs out. 

And then she abruptly stopped. 

The night grew deadly quiet as if it was anticipating what would occur next. Valda swallowed, slightly dreading the near future. 

When they thought the woman wouldn't move, a sound filled the silent air. Laughter. It was small, soft and almost shy. Like the quiet, bashful one a woman offers to her first love. Like the happy one a child gives after receiving a present. It was innocent. And harmless. 

But Valda realized it was not the case. Because the laughter soon turned wicked. And villainous. 

The woman laughed louder and louder. She cackled like the deadliest witches of the east and harshly snickered like the maniac criminals running inside the dirty sewers of large cities. She laughed and laughed and laughed into the dead night. 

But Valda's eyes didn't stray away from the woman's chest. At the many weapons slowly arousing from her chest. They slowly pulled out of the woman's body and elevated in the air before her. 

The forest grew quiet. 

Valda and Cressa grew icy cold with fear as hundreds of weapons stood before them. War clubs and maces and sledges and axes and arrows and swords and lances and daggers--of all shapes and sizes pointed at them, each one confronting them with a vicious glint under the silent moonlight. 

The woman dropped down to the cold earth after shoving out one last weapon. She doubled over and hurled her guts out. Black liquid spewed out of her mouth and onto the ground. 

When she rose again, she was unhurt. Her arm had healed. And her chest, it looked as if it wasn't ripped apart by her bare fingers and had given birth to an arsenal of weapons. 

The woman, no, the Deminus looked completely alright. 

The woman smiled the same honey-glazed one that coldly licked at Valda's spine. 

"I shall take my leave now, wizards. But fret not, my friends here shall give you company. Here, and, " She smiled and tilted her head. 

"--all the way to your graves."

And she disappeared, just like that.

The weapons slowly neared them. 

"Fuck!" Cressa cursed loudly. 

"Fuck, indeed," Valda replied, eyes not daring to move away from the approaching weapons. 

The night paused for a moment, and then, 

The weapons began their onslaught. 

ווו×

Ayra ran through the labyrinth. 

Her lungs gasped for air and knees begged for some rest. 

But Ayra didn't stop. She couldn't stop. 

So, she ran. And ran and ran. 

Ran towards the direction her wind refused to go. Ran towards the direction where the air was still and the night was dead. 

Ran towards the Ruins of the First Gate. 

She forcefully pushed herself forward and forward, manoeuvering through this large labyrinth with cruel difficulty. 

Ayra was tired. So, so tired. But she didn't allow herself to give up. Everything depended on them. Depended on the success of this mission. And Ayra refused to give up when she was so close to reaching the heart of this deadly mission. 

It was just the beginning. But for Ayra, it seemed like she was nearing the end. 

A dark end. 

She shook her head, grabbing herself away from such thoughts. She had no time for that. 

Ayra rounded another corner that led towards the Ruins but just then, a presence lingered behind her. 

The wind warned her of a very large, very vicious presence. 

She immediately skid to a halt and grabbed the hilt of Arcadius. 

With a loud cry into the quiet night, she whirled around with her weapon in her grip. 

And just like that, tore through the neck of a four-legged Terras. 

A snarl tore through the air next to her and Ayra saw a two-headed Terras lunging for her. She immediately ducked before pivoting around and sending a gust of wind straight through its chest. 

The creature smashed against the wall of the labyrinth. She immediately grabbed two daggers from the inside of her boots and aimed it at the creature's neck. The weapons hit its target and successfully pinned the creature against the cold wall. 

Ayra silently witnessed the creature writhe against the hold of the dagger. With cold indifference, she saw the life escape from its body. 

For a minute, she just stood there. Doing nothing. Feeling nothing. After a moment, she slowly dragged her feet towards the restrained dead body of the Terras. 

Ayra's knees shook as she glared at the unmoving, dead creature lying before her. 

They were all over the place, these Terras. Trying to stop her from reaching the Ruins and acting as a hindrance between her and the demons behind all of this. The closer she got, the more they come. And the more they come, the tougher it gets to move forward. 

She breathed lungfuls of air and closed her eyes. 

That's when it happened. That's when her wind sensed it. And that's when the world heard it. 

A shudder. A shudder so short yet so dangerous. A shudder that reminded her of where she was and what was happening. 

It tore through the earth and tore through her soul. It rattled the ground and rattled her mind. 

It's time, it seemed to tell her. 

It's time, it seemed to warn her. 

They had no time to spare. 

Ayra demanded the remaining kernel of her power to awaken and obey her. She raised her hand and sent a blast of her wind at the wall before her, demanding at her power to break it open for her. 

When a hole opened for her, Ayra ran again. 

She ran now, not through the labyrinth. She ran now, breaking through the labyrinth. 

Ayra grew more and more lifeless with every kernel of power that she forcefully awakened. But she had no choice. She had to be fast. She would do it, even if she would remain powerless and worn out when she faced her enemies. She would do it, even if she was forced to fight with her bare hands. 

Ayra would do it. 

She broke through the walls of the labyrinth. They trembled down at her feet with a groan and allowed her to pass. 

When the last wall came tumbling down by her hands and opened the other side for her, 

Ayra stopped in her tracks. 

A bridge stretched out before her. Timbered. Ancient. Skimming above a sea of mist. 

Beyond it, transcending towards the dark night, sat the Ruins of the First Gate.