Adira stood shakingly. Her vision blurred and her mouth tasted metal. The “Mana Strike” brought her on the verge of mana exhaustion. The girl gauged the amount left. Only a quarter of the original pool, not enough to keep up for long. She had to drink a mana potion and reveal her plan for out sustaining the Forgotten King with them.

Her hand reached for the satchel only to find nothing where it was supposed to be. The bag, that was frivolously hanging on her shoulder, got lost while she tumbled on the ground. Most of her potions were thrown around and broke, the shards of glass still trailed through the air. A few that survived rolled too far out of reach. Some must be left in the bag, but Adira would not be able to pick it up during the fight. She had only one option, to fight on the remaining mana and win. Her lips curled in a resigned smile. That was some joke from Goddess of Destiny no less, and she hated to play the main role in it.

Her opponent probably would have enough mana for one or two more dashes of “Sky Crusher”, similar to the last one. The huntress could probably afford an upkeep of “Odium Steps” for some time to dodge it. Everything else would simply empty her mana reserve. The magical exhaustion she had forgotten in the past month peaked its hungry eye from the horizon of her consciousness, sending a notice of its inevitable presence.

Adira’s mind raced from one corner to another, looking for a way out. Her knees trembled indecisively as if resigned to start running away from the monstrosity in front of her. It was just like her childhood again. The girl looked at the beast in front of her, paralyzed with fear. Her mind made hopeful images of her getting a lucky strike that would end it all. She had to suppress these thoughts. An experienced warrior knows how dangerous the false beliefs of the mind driven into a corner might be. That knowledge did not change how paralyzed with fear the huntress was.

King Azalor slowly walked towards her. The golden wings from “Odium Steps” spread out of his heels. The same image upside down reflected in the radiance of his own abilities, mirroring each step. If Adira had enough time, she would surely be stunned by the beautiful image. A butterfly, that the reflection created, had slowly approached her. It was a monster.

He raised his sword, and the “Sky Crusher” thread followed his steps. The Forgotten King’s feet hit the ground, sending a splash of water behind. His sword swung past Adira’s face as she dodged, but all she saw was a monster’s claw that swiped at her.

She remembered the trap and jumped, twisting in the air, her scorched stomach was too fresh of a reminder of what the man was capable of. The flaming wall hit the air just under her back.

As soon as she landed the flurry of swords strikes rained on her head. The shaft of her glaive howled each time it defended its wielder. The thumping of the weapon resounded back into Adira’s head, sending her further and further into despair. The images of her childhood overlapped with the man’s empty face. With each strike he rained on her, the girl saw the arachne clawing through mother’s body. Only primal instincts and her training kept the girl alive.

All her life this image has haunted her. It was ironic that it would be her end. The pain that drove Adira through her life now materialized into this empty room in the middle of the night sky, with the monster that was a reflection of her own power. Skreetha’s smile with its needle-like teeth spread across the sky behind Azalor. A sword passed the glaive and slashed her head. The helmet protected her from the lethal damage. Adira tumbled backwards. The pain and helplessness of the little girl came back, reminding the huntress of her place in life.

However, she was not helpless. This did not define her life. Adira lived fueled by spite and defiance. Fear did not guide her life, and fear would end it. Yes. She was a Godslayer, the Champion of Darkness and even her nightmares became afraid of her. Adira’s heart burned. She swiped her glaive with the newfound resolve that defied not only the difference in skills and experience with King Azalor, but her weakness and terror itself. The images hunting her ran scared. The Forgotten King backed away, weary of this newfound strength.

Adira raised her head to the night sky. She tore the helmet off her head, it was broken after the hit, and the metal pressed into her skull painfully. Blood ran down her neck and across her cheek. Her red hair, now free from the encumbrance splattered across her shoulders. She looked at the night, and for the first time in her life she embraced it, unafraid of the darkness. The girl looked around, King Azalor stood dumbfounded, and every fear he awakened in her now covered and hid away from her gaze.

The fight was not over. Her body already scrapped the barrel trying to find scoops of mana to upkeep the “Odium Steps” for at least a fraction of a moment longer. Yet relieved from fear, Adira started to notice things that were in plain sight. The king's behavior was wild. With his experience and knowledge, he must overpower her in combat. He was not thinking straight. She looked at his ragged, empty eyes. The man in front of her died over 150 years ago, and his body is alive only due to some God’s trick. She was fighting an empty husk of the Forgotten King, and not the warrior that defeated Demigods.

King Azalor stood with his sword raised to the skies. The man did not waste any time, charging magic so powerful it made the sky tremble in fear. Seeing his attacks only made the girl stronger, he reached for his strongest weapon. The stars disappeared, as a black orb gathered at the tip of his blade. Adira did not even need to doubt, it was the level 100 skill, and she had to face it. A radiant sphere appeared on the man’s chest. The blade glowed as a void of darkness and golden radiance of two spheres intertwined from his chest to the tip of his sword.

“I will slay you, Evil champion.” The Azalor’s hoarse voice struggled through the energy bursting at his body. “Open your maw, God Eater!”

A soundless void enveloped everything. Adira could not even hear her thoughts. The newcoming threat stole the attention of the world itself. Sun and void coursing through King Azalor’s body and sword began to radiate the power they contained. The Forgotten King slowly lowered his blade to the side, preparing for a swing. A rupture in space appeared where the tip of the sword was traced. The structure of the world was cut like fabric with a knife. The air began whizzing through the gap. The girl felt like a blade was pressed into her body and tried to force its way through despite the distance between the two. The pressure only grew, multiplying pain from all the wounds she had during her years as if they all opened again. She raised the glaive prepared to face the Godslayer’s best friend, the God Eater.

Was it just a spell? Or a real being stood behind it? Adira did not know, but this ability left no doubts the class title was well deserved. Even a God must be wary to face it. She clenched her grip on the weapon. Azalor was fighting with the instincts drilled in his body, instead of his mind. It was the only advantage she had over him. Her unyielding resolve was put against all-destroying power. Meeting it head-on would be suicide, so instead the girl decided to rely on something she stole from the arachne’s approach. Skreetha was not strong or agile, the monster relied on its cunning. Something that Azalor’s empty mind would not consider in his present state.

The Forgotten King jumped forward, dashing at the Adira with an obvious slash coming. The huntress charged towards him as well. The sword of Godslayer tore the space apart, a huge rift followed the man. The girl thrusted her glaive aiming to catch him while he was in the distance.

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The King stepped to the side, expecting the attack. Now his sword had a direct line to the girl’s neck. Her glaive was not in time to block it.

That was what Adira wanted.

She released a hold of her weapon and stepped into the attack. The sword flew towards her as if at its own will. Powerful magic pressed onto her, denying her approach. The girl screamed, forcing herself closer into a clinch. She activated “Mana Strike” and charged it into her fingers. Her gauntlet, a gift from the Demigod of Darkness, ended with claws pierced into man’s chest. Adira walked right into the Godslayer, closer than a hug, colliding with his charge.

The arm carrying the sword crashed into her face, but the blade moved past. The dull sensation from the magic that she felt cutting into her, now felt as if she was caught in a guillotine’s hack. The same invisible blade cut her armor in two pieces, then left a huge cut across her chest, and a similar one appeared on her back. The girl was slashed even though the sword did not touch her. However, that was not the most dangerous part of the spell.

The God Eater’s maw opened, as the sword ripped the world apart. The collision with Azalor sent Adira flying. She did not have a chance to touch the ground, as she tumbled back. She continued to spin in the air. Falling into the rift between worlds, right into the mouth of the spell. Azalor followed, sucked by the hungry magic into the nothingness. The girl slowly drifted away from the small gap that was leading back onto the platform. Before they fought under the night sky. Now they went beyond it, to the place where stars lived. Into the Eternal night of Infinity beyond Worlds. The place that Gods avoided at all costs now surrounded Adira.

She could not move. Her body felt like it was trying to bloat as if something tried to make its way out of her. No, as if Infinity tried to pull her in all sides, tearing her apart. Severe cold pierced through her skin. Her eyes burned, as her tears were pulled out and vaporized, leaving cold burns around her eyes. Her throat had the same treatment. The girl did not even need to confirm how fast her health pool was draining. She felt it on her skin.

A small vial of healing potion blinked in the starlight. It flew close enough to catch it. That was the only salvation in sight. Adira thrashed in a place like a fish thrown on the sand, trying to spin around and catch it. Slowly but surely, her body rotated. The vial spun past her face. With a numb arm, she barely caught it and quickly pressed it to her lips, but the liquid refused to fall into her mouth. Trying to suck it out also did not help. The pressure from the void around her was stronger. However, the huntress figured to shake the vial, pushing liquid out of it in a small orb that she caught with her mouth. Although, it was impossible to swallow it, as pressure was crushing her throat, just pressing the potion to the walls in her mouth helped. She felt blood stop flowing out of her cuts, and the cold became not as piercing as it was before.

“I sense my blessing here.” A whispering voice reached out towards her. Something wrapped around her, protecting her from the cold embrace of Infinity. An ancient and dominating presence lurked just at the edge of Adira’s consciousness, close enough for her to hear it. “Listen carefully, Champion of the Darkness, because I am your God, Sylverak.”

The intrusion of God was a saving grace. The girl’s body recovered, and blood continued to stream through her limbs. That single moment of protection saved her life. If she had to listen in exchange, she was ready to take whatever came her way.

“I see Salgos is alive. You are… oh.” Sylverak spoke, as he explored the girl’s mind. Something pushed into her body against her will. “Collect my essence. I won’t have another chance to reach my disciple. Remember to pass it to Salgos. I entrust you to help him ascend.”

Magic power of another origin suddenly filled her body. The girl felt she was drifting in a warm stream of water. Such a serene and peaceful feeling. It spread to her body like wildfire and burned all pain and doubt. She felt the essence fill her like an empty vessel. However, it was a false sensation. With one pulse of her heart, all the pain and bleeding returned.

“My days are numbered here. Infinity is not kind to Gods of different domains. Know that the God of Space is planning to overthrow the God of Nature. You are the key to keeping the balance. A new Dark God must come to life. Bring him forth and aid him in his fight. You will decide the destiny of Gods and your world.”

Adira tried to speak but was unable to make a sound. She had to at least know what it all meant. Unfortunately, Gods were not keen to answer questions.

The space around them returned to normal. She and King Azalor fell back onto the platform. Adira lay down exhausted and drained from all the mana she had, barely alive.

She glanced at her opponent. He took it much harder than her. “Mana Strike” and the pressure of the void almost left him dead. That’s right, they were fighting. Somehow Infinity made it seem so distant as if it happened ages ago, instead of seconds. Adira remembered her attack. The “Mana Strike” landed perfectly, dealing damage to the rest of the mana the man had. The King was depleted from mana with all their fighting, the signs of mana exhaustion showed on his face.

Adira got to her knees and crawled towards him. The king watched her approach. He tried to push himself off the floor. As his body lifted, the girl saw the aftermath of her “Mana Strike”. A large vortex was carved on his chest, spreading cracks all over his body, as if his skin was a stone. He fell back onto his chest, unable to lift himself. The girl lost her weapon to Infinity. She did not need one. Primal instinct and cold-contained rage pushed her body forward. Adira would not let this opportunity pass.

The Forgotten King tried to grab her as she approached, feebly swinging his arm at her. Adira slapped it away and grabbed onto the man’s hair. She pulled his head and crushed it into the stone floor.

Once. Twice.

On the third time, he grabbed onto her arm, trying to stop her. But she crushed his skull into the floor despite his resistance. Azalor did not give up. Having gathered enough power, he kicked Adira into her side, twisting on the floor and using her arm to dig the kick into her body. The girl cried in pain, as she heard the snapping sound of her ribs crack. She fell onto the ground holding the pained spot. Her chest wound resumed bleeding that was shortly soothed by the potion.

Azalor crawled over her. She tried to stop him and stand up but was only pushed back to the ground. Her resolve gave her no strength this time. She was as beaten as her opponent, and only the death of one of them would free them from this prison. The Forgotten King grabbed onto her throat with shaking hands.

Only when Adira felt him squeezing her neck did she realize she had to resist. The girl thrashed and struggled, pushed him in the face, and tried to pull his arms apart, it was all for naught. No matter what she did, his grip strengthened. Her first hit him in the chest, but her strikes were weakening with every moment. Her fists thumped into his body wherever they could reach until Adira ran out of power to strike. She simply allowed them to fall, powerless.

No. Not powerless. Never again!

She shouted at the top of her lungs, although only a weak growl escaped her lips. The girl lashed out with the last ounce of power and stabbed her claws into the throat of the Forgotten King. It finally succeeded in pushing him back. The man fell holding onto his bleeding neck. Adira turned to her side and coughed, gasping for air. It was not the time for recovery. She shouted, “Stand up!” to herself, unsure if she managed to cry it out loud, or if it was just in her mind. The girl pushed off the ground, prepared to launch every last bit of her power that her body was capable of.

However, this resolution was unnecessary. She saw the resigned glint in the King’s eyes. He gave up fighting, the girl breathed a sigh of relief. Something more was in his gaze. He looked at her more sentient than before. His consciousness returned to him before the moment of his death.

“Have I lost?” He focused his eyes on Adira. “To such an evil creature. Oh… Rosane, forgive me… I have failed your dreams… Now I failed mine… What failure of a king… had I become?” Azalor's speech escaped with a whistling sound. He breathed painfully in between words. “I won’t grant you the gratification of my death, evil creature… Be cursed to roam the world in the scourge you sow.” The man closed his eyes scowling at the girl till the last breath.

A moment later the world spewed Adira back into reality. She fell on the ashen ground. Wounded, exhausted, on the brisk of death.

And victorious.