742: Story 742: The Widow’s Bite 742: Story 742: The Widow’s Bite Kruger’s blade sliced through the air, aiming for Selene’s throat.
But she was faster.
With a flick of her wrist, shadows coiled around his arm, yanking him backward.
The montary surge of defiance crumbled as the venom in his veins pulsed, turning his strength into dead weight.
“Tsk, tsk.” Selene’s voice dripped with amusent.
“Still fighting?
Even as your body betrays you?”
She stepped closer, her darkened lips parting in mock sympathy.
Kruger struggled, his breath shallow.
His vision blurred at the edges, the plague working its way through his bloodstream.
Selene kneeled beside him, her gloved fingers brushing against his cheek.
“Poor Kruger… always so righteous.
So stubborn.” She traced a cold line down his jaw, her touch laced with the sting of necrotic energy.
“But righteousness won’t save you.
It never does.”
He tried to will his limbs to move, but the venom held him like a corpse in rigor.
Selene chuckled, standing.
“I want you to watch, hunter.
Watch as I unravel your very being.”
She reached into the folds of her cloak, producing a vial of pulsating green ichor.
“You know what this is, don’t you?” she purred.
Kruger’s jaw clenched.
He recognized the substance imdiately.
The Widow’s Bite.
A plague-born venom, crafted from the darkest alchemy.
It didn’t just kill—it transford.
Flesh blackened, bones twisted, the infected turning into hollow thralls of Selene’s will.
“I could let you die,” she mused, twirling the vial between her fingers.
“Or…”
She kneeled again, bringing the vial to his lips.
“I could make you mine.”
Kruger jerked away, but his body was failing.
Selene’s smile widened.
“Oh, don’t fight it.
You’ll be so much more useful as a creature of the Rotting Cathedral.”
She pried his lips apart, the vial tilting—
Then—BOOM.
The cathedral shook violently.
A wave of pure white fire erupted through the stained-glass windows, scorching through the air like a cleansing inferno.
Selene hissed, recoiling.
Holy fire.
Kruger gasped as the venom’s hold on him weakened, the purifying flas pushing back her corruption.
A **figure erged through the smoke—**cloaked in silver, wielding a warhamr crackling with divine energy.
“Enough, Selene.”
Selene’s eyes narrowed.
“You….”
Kruger forced himself to look up, his vision still swimming.
The Paladin of Aetheris.
A relentless force of light.
One of the few capable of challenging the Pale Widow.
Selene’s expression twisted into a sneer, her golden eyes flashing.
“You’re ddling in my affairs, Paladin.”
The figure raised his warhamr.
“And you’ve overplayed your hand, Widow.”
The air crackled with divine power.
Selene smirked.
“Then let’s see which of us burns first.”
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