In that brief, tense moment when Yasmin unleashed a fiery explosion, Paola had a single heartbeat to breathe before the trio—Ayla, Yucca, and Nathor—closed in again. Her mind raced as she felt the rising tension of the space around her. Time seemed to stretch and distort. And in that strange stillness, her thoughts turned to the one thing from her past life she had never let go of, her Cosmic Bunny Slippers.
Summoning them felt surreal. Paola hadn’t worn them since her first days in this world, back when she was still clinging to pieces of who she’d been on Earth, when she still thought she could go back. They were bright pink, fluffy beyond reason, with bunny ears that stood upright when she slipped her feet inside. They were warm and ridiculously soft. It was more than nostalgia—they grounded her, tethered her to a time before she became Void Borne, a life that felt like a dream now.
But there was no mistaking their power. Diamond-tier gear was nearly mythical in Udanara, hunted, stolen, prized beyond all else. So rare was gear of this level that only the highest nobles or royalty typically held such treasures. Every Void Borne who arrived was a beacon for these items, their strength drawing the scavengers and hunters of this world, preying on those too young, too inexperienced, or simply unlucky enough to survive. And now, here she was, wearing them, and realizing too late that she’d never even visited the Grove of Echos to upgrade them.
The slippers’ enchantments shimmered in her mind’s eye, a flood of cosmic abilities she could feel sparking to life beneath her feet:
Meteor Speed: Unleashed in an instant, pushing her movements to meteoric levels.
Agility of the Rabbit: Heightened agility, her balance and reactions razor-sharp.
Rabbit's Foot: Her luck felt tangible, sharpening her instincts.
Nimble Escape: Short teleportation that would leave even Nathor guessing.
Celestial Protection: A protective aura blanketed her, reducing incoming damage.
This was no ordinary piece of gear. They were everything she needed, yet, in an odd way, they made her feel like the most poorly scripted superhero in the universe. She felt almost absurd as her feet slipped into the oversized pink fuzz, the weight of it both empowering and strange. Her claws tore the remnants of her dress, freeing her limbs for the fight, activating her Nudist Trait—a fitting, rebellious addition to this chaotic scene. She pulled her WebWeave cloak around her, its deep black a striking contrast, silver web-like patterns gleaming faintly, framing her with a predatory elegance.
With a single deep breath, Paola prepared to meet them.
The explosion from Yasmin had sent a shockwave through the room, halting Nathor and Ayla for only a heartbeat. Then they were charging again, a relentless, deadly trio in perfect sync. Ayla lunged, her broadsword flaming with the brutal force of her Flame’s Cross ability. She slashed downward, the fire trailing from her blade casting ghostly shadows on the walls, but Paola moved with newfound speed, slipping to the side, the pink blur of her slippers leaving trails of cosmic energy behind her.
Her vision pulsed, each movement of her enemies highlighted in clarity. She could feel Starry Night Vision shift her sight, making every corner of the dim cathedral bright. Ayla’s second slash, infused with Frost Step, sent shards of ice trailing after her as she rushed forward. Paola twisted out of the way just as the ice spread across the floor, covering it in slick, jagged spikes.
“Paola, stop!” Ayla’s voice cracked, almost desperate, but her movements betrayed no hesitation, every swing coming down with lethal intent.
Paola’s heart twisted, seeing Ayla’s vacant gaze. This wasn’t her Ayla. The will she had known, that fierce loyalty, had been ripped away, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. Paola dodged, weaving through Nathor’s and Yucca’s simultaneous attacks. Nathor’s Obsidian Winged Blitz loomed from the shadows as he fired dark blasts that rattled the walls, his movements heavy, each step slower but more calculated than Ayla’s frantic attacks.
Paola teleported in a burst of cosmic energy, appearing behind Yucca, who twisted midair, sending shards from her Mirror Shard Armory flying towards her. Paola leapt, the slippers’ Moonlit Leap lifting her with ease, higher than she had ever jumped before, her body cutting through the air as if gravity barely touched her. She landed beside Ayla, who swung without a second thought, the broadsword carving the air where Paola’s head had been an instant before.
She gritted her teeth, her heart aching, but there was no time to think. She dodged again, using Meteor Speed to dart to the other side of the room. The thrill of her agility fueled her movements, keeping her barely a breath ahead of Ayla’s unyielding onslaught.
Yucca was faster than she expected, though, her expression a mask of calm determination. She raised her hand, sending a Scalding Sandstorm hurtling toward Paola. Heat enveloped her as grains of burning sand scratched her skin, forcing her to leap again. The sound of Nathor’s wings beating filled the space, and Paola barely teleported away in time as he swooped in, his wings grazing her arm, leaving a stinging line of dark energy in their wake.
This dance continued, the three of them moving like the world’s deadliest predators. But Paola was still just one against three, and every movement was drawing her closer to exhaustion. She slipped in and out of their attacks, her Nimble Escape teleporting her just far enough each time to keep her from Ayla’s broadsword, Yucca’s glass shards, and Nathor’s wings.
With a feral growl, Nathor unleashed his Soul Rend—shadow tendrils erupted from his arms, reaching out to ensnare Paola. She evaded with Ethereal Step, scaling the cathedral’s wall as if it were a flat plane, running vertically up to evade the assault. The ground beneath her cracked, dark tendrils reaching up as Nathor’s wings beat, lifting him higher. He followed her, and she knew that without the slippers, she would have been a smear against the wall by now.
As she reached the top, Yucca launched Shatter Bolts that exploded near her, shards grazing her face and shoulders. Paola rolled forward, twisting around as she leapt down from the height, narrowly avoiding another blast from Ayla’s Flame’s Cross. She was barely holding them off, but each evasion, each burst of speed and teleportation, brought her closer to the edge.
Paola’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body teetering on the edge of exhaustion. Nathor, Ayla, and Yucca had her cornered, their eyes empty of reason or mercy, advancing with deadly purpose. She had unintentionally maneuvered herself into a tight space, trapped between their lethal intent and the cold, unyielding stone wall behind her. Ayla’s broadsword was drawn back, poised for a devastating strike, Yucca’s glass shards floated around her like a hovering executioner’s blade, and Nathor’s dark wings loomed, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow any hope of escape.
“Paola! Get down!” Yasmin’s voice cut through the chaos like a beacon.
Without a moment’s thought, Paola summoned her Nimble Escape, teleporting just as Ayla’s blade sliced through the air where she’d been standing a heartbeat before. She reappeared in a flash of cosmic light, landing hard at Yasmin’s feet, her body hitting the ground with a jolt.
Above her, Yasmin stood tall, her face set in fierce concentration as she held her hands aloft, magic pooling around her like a gathering storm. The air vibrated, charged with a potency Paola had never seen before. Yasmin’s entire form seemed to glow, her amber eyes blazing with determination as she summoned her most powerful spell.
With a guttural roar, Yasmin unleashed Bloom Blossom in all its devastating glory.
The explosion was like nothing Paola had ever witnessed. A massive, fiery blossom burst forth, radiating outwards in an unfathomably wide and deadly arc. Each petal of fire and thunder expanded, forming a blooming cascade of flames and energy that roared toward Nathor, Ayla, and Yucca, who had been closing in on Paola’s former position. The shockwave struck first, sending them stumbling back, but the blast was merciless, swallowing them in its radiant, unrelenting fury.
The flames spread, filling the corner of the cathedral with blinding light and thunderous sound, as if the very heart of a star had erupted within those stone walls. The heat was suffocating, blistering even at a distance, and Paola instinctively shielded her face, feeling the intense warmth scorch the air. The pressure was immense, and the sheer force of the explosion reverberated through her bones, rattling the entire cathedral.
Yasmin’s magic swelled, expanding far beyond Paola’s expectations, igniting the cathedral’s corner in a column of fire that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. The stone walls buckled and cracked, unable to withstand the onslaught. Massive chunks of stone and marble splintered off, and with an earth-shaking rumble, the entire corner of the building gave way, a deafening roar echoing as the walls and ceiling collapsed.
Paola’s eyes widened as the section of the cathedral she’d just barely escaped was consumed by the inferno, chunks of stone and beams crashing down, shattering into the ground below. Dust and ash filled the air, the whole room trembling under the force of Yasmin’s unleashed power. For a split second, everything was engulfed in a blinding, all-consuming blaze, the heat pressing in from all sides.
And then, as the flames finally began to die down, silence fell. Paola lay at Yasmin’s feet, her heart pounding in her chest, surrounded by the remnants of Yasmin’s spell. The corner of the cathedral was gone, replaced by a gaping hole that led into the open night beyond, debris tumbling and smoke rising into the sky.
The blast had left a smoldering, gaping wound in the cathedral wall, opening it to the night sky. Rubble and debris scattered across the ground, smoke curling in eerie patterns around the fractured remains of ancient stone. Outside, the air was alive with tension, as if the world itself had drawn a breath, waiting to see what might unfold next.
Paola’s eyes darted across the ruins, spotting Ayla and Yucca struggling to their feet amidst the smoking aftermath of Yasmin’s explosive spell. Their forms were battered, clothes singed and torn, bruises blooming across their skin, and blood streaking down their faces. Yucca clutched her side, blood seeping through her fingers, while Ayla leaned heavily on her sword, her breaths coming in pained gasps. But standing behind them, in the glow of Yasmin’s destruction, was Nathor. His wings, tattered and dark, stretched protectively around Ayla and Yucca like a canopy of shadows, revealing cracks and charred feathers from the impact.
Paola, catching her breath, glanced over at Yasmin, who was leaning heavily against a pillar, her face pale from the intense mana she’d just expended. Poca was at her side immediately, her healing threads weaving into Yasmin’s arm and shoulder, stitching away the damage in delicate, glowing lines.
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“Yasmin, you’re too reckless!” Poca muttered under her breath, concentrating on her healing magic with a furrowed brow.
Yasmin managed a weak grin, gesturing with a shaky hand toward her sister, who still stood, coughing up blood and barely steady on her feet. “Hey, this is the only way I can get through to her, clearly,” she joked, though the effort left her voice breathless.
Paola’s gaze flicked toward Lady Marcelline, who was still standing tall and unscathed amidst the chaos, her gaze cold and calculating. “We need to take her down,” Paola said, her voice low and determined. She knew as long as Marcelline held control, they would continue to face this unending assault.
Yasmin let out a frustrated groan. “Take her down? Yeah, sure, just as soon as we find a way to survive these three! They’ll tear you apart the second any of us slip up.”
Paola clenched her fists, trying to focus past the chaos. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, Nathor surged forward, his crimson eyes dark and hungry, honing in on Paola like a predator on prey. His wings billowed, shedding dark feathers as he raised his hand, black tendrils of shadow twisting from his fingers, ready to strike.
But just as Nathor lunged, Selene moved with impossible speed, meeting him head-on at the opening Yasmin had created. Her mithralite arm gleamed in the moonlight as she threw a punch, sending Nathor stumbling back. She didn’t hesitate, throwing a flurry of strikes that kept him occupied and forced him out through the broken wall into the open.
“Paola, you’re not letting me handle this alone!” Selene shouted back, her voice a fierce demand.
Without missing a beat, Paola sprang forward, urging Yasmin to follow. Yasmin groaned, but a determined spark ignited in her eyes, and she pushed herself to her feet. Together, they moved through the wreckage, stepping out into the night, only to be confronted by their separated adversaries.
Nathor had regained his balance, his wings spread wide as he faced Selene, his expression twisted into something raw and pained. A crackle of darkness pulsed around him, but Selene matched his energy, her void fists glowing as she readied for battle. Their stances mirrored each other’s, each a grim promise of the fated rematch that would unfold.
Paola’s attention was stolen by Ayla, who stepped forward, her broadsword glinting under the moonlight, her mismatched gaze locked on Paola with a haunting emptiness. The love and pain they had shared now turned into a chasm between them. Paola’s heart twisted painfully, but she tightened her grip on her dagger and readied her claws, feeling a surge of fierce resolve rise within her. This battle was inevitable.
And to the side, Yasmin found herself once more facing her sister, Yucca, who wiped the blood from her mouth, her glass shards glinting with a deadly resolve. Yasmin’s face hardened, but there was a deep sadness in her eyes, a pain that mirrored her sister’s. They stood still, the air heavy with unspoken words, until Yucca’s glass shards began to circle her again, the faint glow of her sand magic illuminating the battlefield like fragments of a shattered mirror.
Paola took a deep breath, steadying herself. This battle wasn’t just about defeating the ones they faced—it was about surviving, enduring, and somehow breaking free from Marcelline’s grip.
Selene darted forward, her mithralite arm gleaming as she threw a rapid, punishing series of strikes at Nathor. His wings curled protectively around him, casting deep, shifting shadows that seemed to grow from his very essence. Nathor moved with an almost haunting lethargy, like a being weary of the world, and yet each swipe of his obsidian-tipped wings held deadly precision, aiming to cut Selene down in one clean strike.
Selene narrowly dodged, her movements nimble and calculated, her void-enhanced punches landing with increasing strength against Nathor’s shield of feathers. With each impact, Nathor’s weary eyes met hers, a flicker of something unspoken in his gaze, as if he recognized her—but the will to destroy her overpowered whatever memory lingered in him.
“You were supposed to be dead,” Selene spat, her voice both pained and accusing. Her fists glowed with void energy, striking hard and fast.
Nathor’s voice, hollow and slow, reached her ears. “I am… as good as dead.”
With that, he lashed out, his wing slashing through the air like a blade. Selene threw herself to the side, narrowly missing the edge of his wing, but Nathor anticipated her move, his hand following through with a burst of shadow that struck her squarely in the chest. She stumbled back, breathless, clutching her side as the dark energy crackled through her.
“You’re fighting a ghost, Selene,” he murmured. “A shell.”
Yasmin and Yucca’s battle danced through the sky, their butterfly-like wings beating against the night air, creating a mesmerizing, dangerous rhythm of fire, glass, and sand. Yasmin launched a flurry of fire-tinged blasts, the orange and gold flaring in quick succession, illuminating her face, fierce and resolute. Yucca’s glass shards sliced through the flames with precision, forming intricate patterns as they whirled around her, deflecting her sister’s attacks with eerie calm.
“Yucca, stop!” Yasmin’s voice broke as she evaded another storm of glass, her movements fierce but her expression laced with desperation. “You’re my sister! You have to remember who we are!”
Yucca’s eyes, hard and unyielding, narrowed, and she sent another wave of shards spiraling toward Yasmin, sand swirling around them like a lethal desert storm. “I remember perfectly,” Yucca replied, her voice as cold as the glass she wielded. “But this isn’t about us, Yasmin. You made your choice when you chose them.”
Yasmin deflected the shards with a crescent wave of flame, the heat igniting the air between them in a blinding flash. She flinched as she watched Yucca move through the flames with calculated steps, unharmed. The tension in Yasmin’s eyes shifted, her playful confidence faltering.
“Yucca, please,” Yasmin choked out, her fiery energy wavering for the briefest moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t,” Yucca replied sharply, her glass shards hovering around her like a halo of blades, her expression unreadable. “But if you stand in my way, Yasmin, I’ll do what needs to be done.”
Below, Paola’s feet hit the ground in a blur as she leaped back, narrowly avoiding Ayla’s broadsword that sliced down with deadly precision, gouging a scar into the earth where she had just been standing. Ayla’s attacks came relentless, an unbroken rhythm of fire and ice that ignited the very air around them, each swing infused with the furious strength that had once been reserved for protecting Paola, not trying to destroy her.
“Ayla, please!” Paola’s voice cracked as she threw herself into another teleport, the bright shimmer of her Cosmic Bunny Slippers leaving trails of cosmic dust as she flickered out of Ayla’s range, reappearing several feet away, her breath ragged. “This isn’t you—this is Marcelline’s doing!”
But Ayla’s face remained a stoic mask, her mismatched eyes devoid of warmth, a tragic contrast to the intensity of her attacks. She lunged forward, her broadsword ablaze with searing flame, her footsteps leaving icy trails in the grass as she closed in on Paola once more.
Each time Paola teleported, she barely gained any advantage—Ayla’s experience and sheer force rendered her movements predictable, and each strike brought Ayla closer, chipping away at Paola’s defenses. A growl of frustration escaped Paola’s throat as she tried to keep up, darting around Ayla and attempting to strike from the side, but Ayla blocked her with ease, swinging her broadsword up in a wide arc that sent Paola sprawling backward.
Desperation clawed at Paola’s chest as Ayla advanced, her broadsword glowing with a deadly combination of fire and frost. The relentless look in Ayla’s eyes was a terrifying reminder of her skill, her merciless training, and the fact that, for Ayla, there was no backing down from this fight. Paola scrambled to her feet, gripping her dagger tightly, a fresh wave of determination swelling in her chest.
Selene ducked beneath another vicious strike from Nathor’s wings, her breath heaving as she moved, her void energy dimming slightly as she began to wear down. But Nathor was weakening too, his movements slower, the weight of his own form taking a toll on him.
With a fierce determination, Selene used his brief hesitation, throwing herself into his space and delivering a series of sharp, punishing blows with her mithralite arm. Nathor staggered back, a flicker of surprise in his dark eyes, but his voice remained calm, almost resigned.
“Still fighting, Selene?” he murmured, his tone tainted with a hint of bitterness. “For what? For a life I can no longer remember?”
Selene’s eyes blazed with a fierce resolve, her fists clenched as she squared off against him. “I’m fighting for the chance to bring you back,” she said through gritted teeth, lunging forward with a force that shook the ground beneath them. Her strikes came swift and unyielding, and for the first time, she saw Nathor’s stance falter.
Up above, Yasmin twisted mid-air, narrowly dodging another glass shard that sliced through the night air, a sliver of it catching her cheek and drawing a thin line of blood. She hissed, the sting snapping her focus back as she looked across the open air to where Yucca hovered, her glass shards glinting like stars in a galaxy of darkness.
“Yucca, you don’t have to do this!” Yasmin pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of desperation. She felt the fire in her core waning, every fiber of her being resisting the need to hurt her sister. “We’re family—this isn’t who you are.”
Yucca’s face remained cold, unyielding. “Family?” she echoed, her voice laced with an icy disdain. “If that’s true, then why didn’t you choose me?”
Yasmin’s face contorted with pain, but before she could respond, Yucca unleashed another storm of glass shards, each one slicing through the air like deadly missiles aimed directly at Yasmin’s heart. With a surge of frustration, Yasmin retaliated, her hands alight with explosive energy as she released a barrage of fireballs, each one bursting into a vivid bloom of flame that collided with the glass shards mid-air, the explosion lighting up the sky in a brilliant, fiery spectacle.
The two sisters remained locked in a stalemate, neither willing to give an inch, but each strike tearing away at the love and trust that had once bound them. The battlefield above was a chaotic blend of fire and glass, but despite the ferocity of their attacks, an unspoken agony lingered between them, a painful echo of the bond they were forced to sever.
Paola’s breaths came in ragged gasps as Ayla’s sword struck down once more, narrowly missing her and sending a blast of searing heat and chilling frost across the ground. Paola tried to teleport again, but Ayla anticipated her move, swinging her broadsword in a brutal arc that forced Paola to abandon her evasion, skidding backward across the earth.
Ayla’s relentless strikes were wearing her down, each swing of her sword carrying the weight of someone who had spent a lifetime honing her craft. Paola’s cosmic bunny slippers granted her speed and agility, but Ayla’s skill outmatched them, her every move precise and calculated. It was a dance of brutal efficiency, and Paola was losing.
“Please, Ayla,” Paola whispered, her voice breaking. She dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a slice that would have severed her arm. “I know you’re still in there.”
But Ayla’s face remained emotionless, her eyes cold and unseeing. Her blade flashed in the moonlight as she struck again, this time with a vertical slash that grazed Paola’s cheek, leaving a deep cut beneath her eye. Pain flared in Paola’s vision, the sting of the wound a cruel reminder of the distance that had grown between them.
Ayla lunged forward, her broadsword poised to deliver a killing blow, but Paola managed to teleport away at the last second, reappearing several feet behind Ayla, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
Selene, with a burst of void energy, sent Nathor stumbling backward, her strikes landing with brutal precision, leaving him momentarily disoriented. She pressed the advantage, her void fists connecting with his side, each hit forcing Nathor to stagger back, his wings faltering. His expression flickered, a look of recognition briefly crossing his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.
Nathor’s wings spread wide, gathering dark energy that surged forward in a devastating wave. Selene braced herself, her arm raised to shield against the oncoming attack, her teeth gritted as the force struck her. But she held her ground, her resolve unwavering.
Above, Yasmin and Yucca’s fight remained in a brutal stalemate, their respective powers colliding in brilliant, chaotic flashes of flame and glass. Yasmin’s face was streaked with ash and blood, her breaths coming in heavy, ragged bursts, but she held her ground, her gaze locked on her sister.
“Yucca… you know this isn’t right,” Yasmin said, her voice trembling as she deflected another shard. “I can see it in your eyes. You don’t want this any more than I do.”
Yucca’s face twisted, her hand trembling as she held another shard at the ready, but her gaze flickered, her steely resolve momentarily breaking. She looked at Yasmin, a hint of pain flashing across her features, but her voice was steady as she replied.
“This is what I have to do.”
On the ground below, Paola stumbled back, her strength waning as Ayla advanced, her face still devoid of any trace of the woman Paola had loved. Blood trickled from the wound beneath Paola’s eye, her vision blurred and hazy, and despite her best efforts, she could feel her stamina fading. Each step Ayla took toward her felt like a march toward the inevitable, a crushing reminder of just how outmatched she was.