“Cassie! That thing is getting closer!"
Out there beyond the calamitous battle, the Flesh of Kanakht had already reached the middle of the lake. The Dream Gate had long vanished, and nothing stood between it and the shattered shore — the titanic horror gazed down, an eerie malice emanating from the dark, bleeding chasms of its empty eye sockets.
Its dislocated jaw swayed, putting strain on the elastic bands of muscle holding it in place.
‘What the hell, damn, why is this thing so creepy!"
Jet retreated from the ghostly blade of the Cursed Wanderer, knowing that she could not escape it much longer. The dwindling formation of the Shadow Legion had been pushed back, retreating all the way to the walls of the Dark Castle — if she took another step back, their defeat would beco inevitable.
[Don't worry about the Titan, Jet. You have enough on your plate!]
Jet smiled.
Cassie was undoubtedly right.
Torrential rain was falling onto the ruins of the Eternal City. The Ivory Island was frozen in the dark sky above the Palace, surrounded by cascading waterfalls. The Palace itself was slowly collapsing in on itself, its tal walls groaning as they bent inward.
Just then, another blinding white flash illuminated the world. This ti, however, it did not dim, only growing brighter — it was as if a sun was rising from behind the crumbling Palace. The Eternal City was welcoming day for the first ti since it sank to the bottom of the Stormsea.
It seed like Nephis was getting serious. ‘It's now or never, I suppose:
Jet glanced at the Cursed Wanderer with cold, calculating malevolence.
Could she do it? Could she not?
The bound soul of the Heart of Kanakht granted her the ability to freeze ti for a single heartbeat... at least that was how the Spell described it. A heartbeat was an unreliable asure of ti, though. Different hearts beat at different rates depending on the circumstances, after all. Jet's heart, for example, did not beat at all at tis.
So, it would be more accurate to say that she would be able to move in the frozen ti for a single mont. Could Jet slay the sinister apparition in a single mont? She did not know.
Worse than that, she did not know if the Cursed Wanderer would remain still when she froze ti. He had usurped the power of the Soul of Kanakht, which ant that he had also usurped its Will. And those who wielded the Will could often resist the powers of those who did not.
As Jet looked at the Cursed Wanderer, her gaze kept being drawn to the ghostly cutlass glowing with an ethereal viridian glow in his hand.
The Soul of Kanakht.
Just then, it flashed with a cold halo of viridian light. The light drowned in the mist, and countless spectral figures suddenly beca visible in it, ready to join the wraith army's assault.
‘Ah, to hell with this‘
She lunged forward.
‘What's the worst that can happen? I'll die?’ Jet could not help but smile at her own joke as she delivered a recklessly powerful downward cut with the Mist Blade. The great wraith avoided it easily by taking a step back.
A mont later, he would regain solid footing and use the opening created by her reckless attack to launch his own... probably delivering her a deadly blow.
But...
Jet reached into the Mist Blade and activated the ability granted to it by the Heart of Kanakht.
That deadly blow would have to co in two seconds, no one.
The flow of ti around her ca to an abrupt halt.
The gigantic, monstrous figure of the Flesh of Kanakht stopped midstep. Drops of rain froze in the air. The mist ceased its swirling advance, suffused with ethereal light. The flood of eerie wraiths beca a motionless canvas; the crumbling phalanx of black shades beca a still painting drawn against its background with ink.
The Soul of Kanakht was slowly swelling with another flash of viridian light.
In the frozen ti, only one thing moved — Jet.
She pulled her sword back up, aiming to pierce the Cursed Wanderer's chest.
But then, the sinister apparition suddenly moved, as well.
Slowly, he shifted his gaze and stared directly at Jet. His torso began to turn, and the hand holding the ghostly cutlass started to move forward.
‘Bastard:
Jet tried to calculate if she would be able to strike him, still.
Would one strike be enough?
The Cursed Wanderer was a Corrupted Devil, which ant that he had four soul cores. Souls usually collapsed long before all of their cores were destroyed... but would the sa hold true for a wraith, a naked soul infused with malevolent will?
‘Can I cut him four tis in one heartbeat?’ Jet felt that she could, even if she was not entirely confident.
But her gaze...
Her gaze kept turning to the Soul of Kanakht.
In the end, she wasted her heartbeat to consider it silently, and then turned into a wraith herself.
Ti resud its flow.
The Flesh of Kanakht took a step. Drops of rain fell to the ground. The mist swirled as it washed over the ferocious violence of the battle between the Shadow Legion and the wraith army.
The ghostly cutlass shot toward Jet's heart. However, it never pierced it.
Because as soon as ti resud its flow, the Mist Blade slashed across the Cursed Wanderer's wrist, severing it.
The sinister apparition's hand — as well as the Soul of Kanakht grasped in it — soared into the air.
Reaching forward, Jet grabbed the hilt of the ghostly cutlass.
As soon as it was in her grasp, she dashed back while holding both swords in her hands.
The Mist Blade in one, the Soul of Kanakht in the other.
Jet created so distance between herself and the Cursed Wanderer, then landed on the ground and glanced at him with a dark smile.
"You did not like that, did you?"
The great wraith silently lunged forward. He was a little bit late, though.
Jet glanced down, at the hand that held the Soul of Kanakht.
Sohow, her hand looked even less substantial than usual. It was rapidly growing blurred, like a wisp of mist being dispelled by the wind...
And drawn into the ominous viridian cutlass.
Jet's smile dimd a little.
"Crap."
In the next mont, she vanished in a flash of ethereal light.
The ghostly cutlass clattered to the broken ground.
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