Meanwhile, Cattaleya was a storm unto herself. She put aside her Greatsword changing it for a new set of weapons. As strong as the raw power of the Greatsword was, she was also slower with it.
In a fight like this, she needed speed more than just strength.
"This is more suited to bigger numbers." She smirked.
Twin glaives spun in her hands as her aura blazed like molten gold. The Sixth and Seventh Tribulation Stage cultists came at her together, blades and spells intertwining to tear her apart. But Cattaleya did not falter. She met them head-on, her glaives moving in arcs that left burning trails.
"Come then!" she roared, her voice a whip that cut through the chaos. "Duskthorn Style: Dance of the Twin Glaives!"
One glaive met a hammer, shattering it into fragments, while the other swung low, cleaving through a shield and the arm behind it. Her attacks weren't just brute force — every movement was imbued with rhythm and precision, a dance honed through years of battles and wars.
