Rose eyed the monster in front of her carefully. It wasn't moving. Rather, it was holding its sword in the air, as if in some sort of martial art greeting. The blade swayed softly in invitation but Rose didn't answer it yet. Her eyes were on the bits of corrupted burns she had healed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “I could try healing you, just one more time. Can you understand me?”

The monster, no, the knight, did not answer. He just held the sword up in the air—waiting. But Rose could feel the answer in his gaze. No, this would end in battle.

So, Rose decided to take a moment to examine her sword. True, the demon had been the one holding it, but the sword was made of metal. It had to have come from the dungeon. It was a good sturdy steel, a sword that would hold out as long as one took proper care of it.

It felt balanced in her hand, although not as balanced as her leaf blades had felt. But they were forged from her own blood, so who could expect any other blade to match the synergy? And... Rose eyed the knight in front of her. An aura of martial strength radiated from him, completely unlike the animal rage that had permeated his previous monstrous form.

I think I'll need all the blood to speed my body up for this one, she thought.

For a second, all was still.

A gust of wind blew through the courtyard.

The bell atop the temple rang.

And Rose moved.

She bolted at the knight, sword ready, mind focusing on her blood sense. Rose had stopped holding the monster's blood in for a long time already, so this time instead she searched for those same wounds to latch on to and siphon from. But to her shock, she found none.

Does he have some sort of natural healing ability? Had her aid been enough of a swing to help him completely close all the wounds? Trying to take advantage of me, are you? So much for that spirit of chivalry I sensed for a moment there.

But still, she had options. Rose brought her sword forward, the knight blocking it easily, but only half her mind was in it. The rest of her was still in that blood sense, reaching out.

The demon's corpse, which was still bleeding heavily from a decapitated head, forming a deep crimson pool into the broken fountain's basin was her target. She was tapping into that well and pulling.

But suddenly, the knight started up a blazingly fast barrage of attacks, and the half of Rose's mind that was trying to manipulate the blood was pulled right back into the moment as she blocked desperately, backing away. She couldn't face this foe with only half a mind. Curses, he's actually good.

As an acolyte of her order, Rose had been trained in the sword very very thoroughly indeed. She knew how the blade should move, she could remember the myriad sword forms, beaten into her body through rigorous training. But it was nowhere near enough to face this foe.

He's experienced. It wasn't just the monstrous strength granted by the corrupted body, but he was also moving like a trained warrior, one who had been through a hundred battles. And though Rose's training at the temple had been ferocious, she hadn't ever tested her sword in true battle.

With a clang, her sword was smacked down from her hand, onto the ground behind her. Rose jumped back instantly, ready to dodge out of the way of a killing strike, but—

None came. What? Looking forward, Rose saw that the knight was not advancing. He was waiting. Noticing Rose's gaze, he gestured towards the sword on the ground. Rose narrowed her eyes.

He wants a proper sword fight, then? She could have bolted for the demon's corpse, gathering a pool of blood to use, to send forth as forms and petals to tear at the bits between the boss’s armor, but she decided against it. I guess you did help me in eliminating that party.

“Fine—I'll play your game,” Rose said, walking to pick up her sword.

She took the blade up, taking a second to think through her mistakes in the prior exchange. The way of fighting I've been taught won't work here. I can move so much faster than before, and the proper forms are just slowing me down.

And they weren't making any use of her new powers. How should a blood goddess fight?

Rose looked forward, readied her sword, and dashed. She was on the knight in a flash, hacking at him wildly—and at this time she was sure. Just now, when she had dodged backward after dropping her sword, she had moved much faster than she had thought she would be able to. And now jumping at the knight too.

I can focus the blood in my body into one limb, temporarily making it much stronger! So far, she had only done it on instinct. Could she do it on command too?

The knight parried an attack from Rose, then stepped forward to push her back, and that was when she tried it. Now this attack—there!

Focusing on the blood inside of her, Rose tried to send as much into her arms as possible. It was a strange sensation—blood pressure momentarily spiking in her arms, under falling in the rest of her body. She almost stumbled. But when her strike came down on the knight—

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It was strong.

The knight had been going for a block just like any other, its huge great sword easily swatting away Rose's smaller blade. But this time Rose's strength matched his. And he wasn't ready for it.

Knocking his sword off balance for just a moment, Rose got through the knight's guard—but only hit armor. Her sword glanced right off the knight's breastplate. But Rose wasn't dismayed.

For a moment she had matched the boss's monstrous strength. I can do this, she thought.

Rose caught herself, smoothly moving into her next strike, this time at her normal strength. The knight struck high then low, weaving a complex web of attacks that forced Rose into constant retreat.

But this time it wasn't without purpose. The boss was harrying Rose, gradually boxing her in towards the courtyard's wall. But every now and then, Rose struck forward too. Suddenly empowered by more focused blood, her blade would lash out like a snake from hiding in the grass, forcing the knight into an awkward dodge.

But it still wasn't enough. She had to fall back 10 steps for every one she could take forward. Neither side was scoring proper hits, but eventually Rose would move suboptimally, and the knight would take the lead. I lose in a stalemate.

But she didn't want to give up the sword fight just yet. Because Rose felt she was on the cusp of something—just one moment of realization away from reaching the start of that path. How should a blood goddess fight?

Then, almost backed up against the wall, Rose's eyes suddenly flashed with insight.

A blood goddess should bleed.

When next the boss brought its sword forward in a lunging attack, Rose did not block it with her sword nor did she jump back. She moved just a bit forward and to the side—as much as she could really, and let the sword's edge graze her midsection.

She felt the sting of pain, but did not think of it, instead continuing forward and stabbing her sword into a crack in the knight's armor. Her blade pierced flesh and then just as quick as it had happened—

She jumped back.

The knight now had a wound right by his armpit, and it was much shallower than the one Rose had taken herself. And the knight's wound was bleeding. Rose’s was not—only thin film of blood was visible on the surface, coagulating unnaturally fast.

The fight was now on a timer. And to the knight knew it too—he even gave Rose something akin to a nod of respect. He appreciates that I managed to wound him?

“You really are a strange fellow, aren't you?”

He had no answer but his blade. The knight dashed forward, call mom fury and his step suddenly, trying to end the fight as fast as he could.

Rose only activated her blood siphon, then brought her sword up to guard.

Blood began to flow.

First it was drops, one drop and then another, as Rose hacked at the knight and the knight hacked at her—both scoring wounds. But the knight's injuries were getting worse, even with the healing component of his powers, while Rose was constantly absorbing his blood to heal herself.

But even if Rose's wounds did not bleed, they still hampered her. A hit to the shoulder made her every attack send searing pain into her bones. A stab on the thigh set her limping, and she had to increase the blood in her foot to compensate, weakening the rest of her body.

But even though she was weakening, rose was learning more and more about the fighting style she should employ with every strike. The shifting of the blood concentration grew more automatic, instinctual. She barely had to focus on her blood siphon at all as it grew into a background process in her mind.

Then finally—as the apex of the fight came—Rose had one more flash of inspiration. A vision of who she should be. She wouldn't just be a blood goddess.

She would be the blooming blood goddess.

Rose brought a stream of blood into her hand, then fused it upon her blade to form a thin coating of blood. It wasn't to empower the blade itself—the blood was just blood, a liquid no sharper than water.

But when in the next exchange of blows rose’s sword bits into the knight’s flesh—it sent a spray of flower petals flying. Sharp, biting flower petals. Only a handful of smaller ones, but they followed after the blade shredding countless tiny paper cuts in a trail that followed the main strike.

It was as if Rose wielded a blade of flowers that sent out an arc of roses with each strike.

Streams turned to rivers. The boss was faltering, to weakened from the loss of blood to keep up its furious approach. And Rose could finally dedicate some of her mental capacity to the battlefield around her.

She forced her foe forward, into one of the rapidly forming puddles of blood, then called forth thorns to pierce into its feet.

The knight jumped back, but Rose was already upon him and her blade scored even more gashes, sending even more blood out to cover the battlefield, until every pathway of escape was blocked.

Rose needed no walls to box in her opponent. If he tried to back away, Rose called up razor-sharp grass and biting thorns. If he tried to advance on her, Rose took a glancing blow and then answered with one of her own. And all the while more and more blood was flowing.

This fight is already won. Rose knew it in her heart. She could simply walk away, keep out of the boss's range while continuing to siphon out blood, and she would eventually win. But that wouldn't be righteous.

Why do I even care about being righteous? Rose asked herself, somewhat opposed to the idea. But it was something in that intense gaze she felt through that visor—something in how the boss had recovered at least some of its sanity, only to demand a duel by sword.

Oddly, Rose felt she should honor what the boss wanted.

So she did not run. She did not throw away her sword and drown her opponent in a storm of petals. In fact, she even stopped waiting for the boss to weaken further.

Rose looked the boss in the eye, and saw he knew it too. This final blow would be the last.

The boss mustered up the last of its strength into our vicious overhead blow. The giant great sword came down like an executioner's axe—and Rose concentrated blood into her left foot pushing herself just enough forward and to the side to escape it. Her blade came up with her step lancing straight up through the knight's visor.

She pierced through deep into the head, and a storm of petals flooded the helmet. The boss collapsed.

And Rose stepped back giving him an appreciative nod.

“It was a good fight.”

Then Rose looked up, searching for that invisible something in the sky, that she knew was waiting.

Dungeon boss of Passlamm shrine defeated!

Assigning rewards...

With her divine sense, Rose felt a potential begin to gather around the arena. An invisible field she hadn't even realized that had permeated the dungeon began to coalesce.

But then she waited, waited and waited some more. Until a creeping question finally climbed up her spine. She looked at that message again, which was patiently waiting in her field of view.

Assigning rewards...

Rose felt at the gathered potential sitting in the air, as if waiting for someone to take hold of it. So who exactly would do the assigning?