Lilith’s threads twisted and fused, each strand hardening into blade-sharp edges as they wove together. The fragmented shards of Soulreaver aligned in perfect formation—dozens of gleaming black swords hovering behind her like a phantom army.
"Can you match this?"
Celine’s lips curled into a thin, cold smile. She spat to the side, a dismissive gesture, and settled into a low stance. Her blade shifted, the crimson edge catching the dim light as she adjusted her grip. A thin, wispy aura began to seep from her body like heat rising from sun-baked stone. It curled around her limbs, her blade, her very breath, and she let out a slow, steadying exhale.
"Don’t underestimate me."
Celine’s stance tightened, her muscles coiling like a spring as she planted her feet. A thin, sharp smile curled her lips.
"White Demonic Step."
She shot forward. Her blade carving a straight, brutal line toward Lilith’s chest.
Lilith’s threads snapped into motion, weaving a dense barrier of silver silk between them. The strands pulsed with dark light, reinforced and layered—a wall meant to stop anything short of a siege weapon.
Celine’s blade met the barrier.
And cut through it.
The silk parted like paper, severed by the edge of her crimson blade. Lilith’s eyes widened before she was already moving, her threads yanking her backward, pulling her out of the blade’s reach.
"Tch." Lilith’s voice was light, but there was an edge beneath it now. "You’re faster than you look."
Celine didn’t answer. She pressed forward, her blade becoming a blur of crimson arcs as she carved through the threads that tried to reform around her.
Lilith’s fingers twitched, and the fragmented shards of Soulreaver shot forward—a dozen gleaming black blades streaking toward Celine from every angle. They moved in perfect synchronization, a coordinated storm of steel meant to overwhelm.
Celine’s blade swept up, meeting the first shard with a sharp sound. She deflected it, twisted, and caught the second on the flat of her blade. The third she sidestepped entirely, the black steel passing inches from her ribs.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The shards rained down on her from all sides, but Celine’s blade moved like a living thing, each strike precise, each deflection calculated. She was a dancer in the middle of a storm, her movements fluid and relentless.
One shard slipped past her guard. A thin line of crimson bloomed across her cheek.
Celine didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow down. Her blade carved through two more shards, shattering them into motes of silver light, and her foot shot forward, aimed at Lilith’s exposed side.
Lilith’s threads snapped up to block, but Celine was already shifting, her blade reversing direction in a brutal arc aimed at Lilith’s throat.
Lilith’s eyes narrowed. Her threads coiled around her, forming a cocoon of silver silk just as the blade struck.
CRACK! SHATTER!
The cocoon shattered, but it had done its job. Lilith was propelled backward, landing in a crouch, her threads already reforming around her fingers.
Celine straightened, her blade still raised, a thin line of blood still trickling down her cheek.
"Your luck just ran out."
"My luck? Darling, I don’t rely on luck."
Lilith aura spread through the clearing like poison seeping through water, silent and insidious.It crept into Celine’s awareness, settling behind her eyes, coiling in her chest.
Her hand drifted to her throat, fingers brushing against the skin where the cold had settled. A faint tremor ran through her fingers.
’...Fear? Am I... afraid?’
The thought was absurd. She was the White Demon. She had faced armies, monsters—things that would make lesser beings weep and beg for mercy. And now she was afraid of a woman with silver threads and a mocking smile?
’No.’ Her grip tightened on her blade. ’That’s impossible. I refuse.’
Her aura erupted—crimson and cold, a blazing inferno of will and defiance that pushed back against the suffocating pressure. The cold receded, just slightly, and Celine’s eyes blazed with renewed fury.
"THAT’S NOT POSSIBLE!"
She surged forward, her blade carving a blazing arc through the air aimed at Lilith’s throat. It was fast, furious—a strike born of frustration and denial.
Lilith’s threads shot forward, intercepting the blade with a sharp, ringing sound but she didn’t stop there. Her crimson eyes gleamed, and a wave of psychic pressure slammed into Celine’s mind—a sharp, invasive force that clawed at her thoughts, her memories, her sense of self.
Celine’s steps faltered. Her vision swam. The world around her seemed to twist, the edges of her perception blurring as Lilith’s psychic assault pressed against her consciousness.
’What... is this...?’
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus, to push back against the intrusion. But it was like trying to hold back a flood with her bare hands.
Lilith’s voice drifted through the haze, soft and amused, wrapping around Celine’s thoughts like a whisper from the dark.
"Tell me, demon commander—what does it feel like, to be prey?"
Celine’s body went rigid. Her breath caught. For a moment, the world narrowed to a single point—Lilith’s crimson eyes, gleaming with dark satisfaction.
Then Celine’s aura exploded.
Crimson fire erupted from her body, raw and untamed, a shockwave of pure will that shattered the psychic grip and sent Lilith’s threads scattering. Celine’s chest heaved, her eyes blazing with cold, furious light.
"I am not prey."
She lunged forward, her blade carving a vicious arc through the space around her, a sweeping strike meant to drive her back and break her rhythm.
Lilith’s threads snapped up to intercept, but Celine was already moving, her form a blur of crimson and shadow as she closed the distance.
"White Demonic Step: Phantom Slash!"
The blade swept across the clearing like a crescent of frozen moonlight, carving through the air with a force that made the very ground tremble. The soldiers who had been watching stumbled back, shielding their eyes as the shockwave rippled outward, sending dust and debris spiraling into the air.
Celine’s chest heaved as she lowered her blade, her eyes scanning the haze. The clearing was silent, the weight of her attack still settling like a held breath. She couldn’t sense Lilith’s aura.
A thin, cold smile touched her lips. She straightened, her grip loosening on her blade.
"Hmph. So much for all that talk—"
A whisper of movement behind her. A shadow that hadn’t been there a moment before.
Celine spun, but it was too late. A blade carved a shallow line across her back, drawing blood in a sharp, searing arc. The pain lanced through her, and a raw, unfiltered cry tore from her throat.
"AAAGHHH—!"
She stumbled forward, her hand flying to the wound, her fingers coming away slick with crimson. She turned, her eyes blazing, her breath ragged.
Lilith stood where the shadow had been, her smile sharp and satisfied. She tilted her head, her voice light and mocking.
"Too bad~" she purred, her crimson eyes gleaming. "You missed."
Celine’s jaw tightened, her internal voice a snarl of disbelief and fury.
’Impossible... she dodged my Phantom Slash? I was sure I’d landed it. How is she still standing?!’
Her hand, still pressed against the wound, trembled slightly. She forced herself to straighten, to push the pain to the back of her mind. Her voice came out low, carrying a note of grim resolve.
"...It doesn’t matter. I’ll just strike again."
Lilith’s smile didn’t waver. Her threads stirred around her fingers, dark and eager.
"Actually," she said, her voice dropping to a silken murmur, "I think I’m done playing."
Celine’s eyes narrowed. She shifted her stance, readying herself for another assault—but the movement was slower now, the wound on her back demanding attention.
Lilith raised her hand, and the fragmented shards of Soulreaver hovered in the air around her, their edges gleaming with dark, hungry light.
"Goodbye, demon commander," Lilith said, her voice soft and almost kind.
Her hand swept forward.
The shards shot through the air like a storm of black steel, each one aimed at a different point on Celine’s body—her throat, her heart, her limbs, every gap in her guard. They moved with devastating speed, a swarm of death that left no room for escape.
And then—
CRASH—BOOM!
A massive form slammed into the ground between Lilith and Celine, the impact sending a shockwave of dust and debris billowing outward. The shards struck the figure and stopped, their momentum broken by something far denser than steel.
Lilith’s eyes widened slightly as the dust began to clear.
He was massive—broad-shouldered, thick-limbed, his body a canvas of scars and old wounds that spoke of countless battles.
He let out a low, rumbling breath, his gaze fixed on Lilith with the weight of a mountain.
His head turned slightly, his cold eyes settling on her. His voice was rough, carrying the weight of a man who had long since stopped being impressed by anything.
"I’ve been looking for you at your post. You weren’t there. Do you have any idea what could have happened if someone attacked while you were gone?"
Celine’s lips curved into a slow, relieved smile. She straightened, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
"I didn’t expect to be happy to see you, Lord Deiora."
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