Mikhailis charged toward the Goblin Apostle, his feet pounding the broken ground as he dashed forward. The massive creature lood before him, its grotesque figure bathed in the swirling glow of green energy, dark magic and holy light mixed together in an unnatural, chilling way. From a distance, Serelith's spells were already crackling through the air—bolts of black fla and shards of ice. She was doing everything she could to keep the Apostle off-balance, to help Mikhailis land a decisive strike.
But coordinating with Serelith was proving to be much harder than Mikhailis had anticipated. They'd never fought side-by-side like this before, and it quickly beca clear that their styles were worlds apart. Serelith's magic was unpredictable, her spells flowing with an erratic intensity that mirrored her personality—wild, mischievous, powerful. Mikhailis found himself struggling to keep up, to match his movents with the timing of her attacks.
He lunged forward, aiming for the Apostle's exposed side, only to have a bolt of Serelith's fire shoot past him, forcing him to pull back. The Goblin Apostle swung its massive blade, the air around it vibrating with the force of the blow. Mikhailis barely managed to dodge, dropping into a roll and springing back to his feet, his eyes narrowing.
Co on, Serelith, work with here.
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"Hey Goblin, stay on your toes!" Serelith shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos of the battlefield. Her tone was teasing, almost playful, despite the seriousness of the fight. She unleashed another wave of magic, this ti a blast of black ice that crackled as it shot toward the Apostle.
"I'm trying, woman!" Mikhailis yelled back, his voice strained. He darted in again, using the distraction from Serelith's attack to get closer. His knife flashed, aiming for the Apostle's knee, but the creature moved, its monstrous arm swiping down. Mikhailis leaped back just in ti, his feet skidding against the dirt. He could feel his muscles starting to strain, his legs growing heavy.
Coordinating with Serelith was like trying to solve a puzzle while being punched in the face. He had to keep track of her movents, anticipate where her spells would land, and sohow dodge the Apostle's relentless attacks—all at the sa ti. The constant ntal strain was wearing on him, each second feeling like a battle in itself. His eyes darted to Serelith, watching as she twirled her hands, conjuring flas that shot out toward the Apostle.
Okay, I need to figure out her rhythm… Mikhailis thought, his breath coming in quick bursts.
He forced himself to focus, watching the patterns in Serelith's magic. She moved with a strange sort of grace, her spells unpredictable but sohow fluid, almost like a dance. He just had to find the rhythm, to fall in step with her.
He took a deep breath and moved in again, this ti trying to ti his movents with Serelith's attacks. As she fired another burst of ice, Mikhailis darted to the side, positioning himself at the Apostle's flank. The creature turned, its glowing eyes locking onto him, and Mikhailis felt the air shift as it prepared to strike. He ducked low, his knife flashing upward, aiming for the exposed underside of its arm.
The blade bit into flesh, and the Apostle let out a roar, swinging its arm in a wide arc. Mikhailis barely managed to dodge, rolling out of the way just as the massive blade crashed into the ground where he'd been standing. He sprang to his feet, his chest heaving.
"Nice one!" Serelith called out, her eyes glinting with excitent. She raised her hands, her fingers curling as black vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around the Apostle's legs.
Mikhailis nodded, forcing a grin.
"Thanks. Just… keep that up."
But despite their efforts, the Goblin Apostle showed no signs of weakening. Its resilience was staggering—every ti Mikhailis landed a blow, the green energy seed to pulse around it, healing the wound almost instantly. The creature's movents were still powerful, each swing of its weapon forcing Mikhailis to jump back, to keep his distance. Even Serelith's magic, as potent as it was, seed to barely make a dent.
Mikhailis could feel his legs growing heavier, the fatigue setting in. He'd been pushing himself to keep up with Serelith, to match her attacks, but the constant dodging, the ntal strain—it was all starting to take its toll. He could hear his breath coming in ragged gasps, his muscles screaming at him to stop, to rest.
The Apostle swung its weapon in a wide arc, and Mikhailis leaped to the side, barely avoiding the strike. He landed hard, his knees buckling under the impact, his vision blurring for a mont. He blinked, trying to steady himself, to focus.
And then, amidst the chaos, he heard it. A voice, faint at first, but unmistakable.
Mikhailis froze, his eyes widening. He could feel a faint connection in his mind, sothing that felt familiar—and then, the voice grew clearer.
Mikhailis let out a breath, a shaky grin spreading across his face.
"Took you long enough," he muttered under his breath, ducking behind a broken wall for cover as the Apostle's blade swung over his head.
Rodion replied, his tone almost indignant.
Mikhailis blinked, his mind racing.
Elowen's glasses…?
He pictured her, the way she always seed to have them on, and he couldn't help but smile.
"She never takes them off, does she? Except when she's sleeping," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
Rodion said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
Mikhailis's eyes narrowed, his breath coming faster.
"Alright, give it to . What's the plan?"
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