High above, Korrvein clung desperately to the spider's shuddering shell, arms wrapped tight around a jagged chitinous spine, his face a mask of disbelief and dawning horror. "Stop… stop messing around, Xarachnus! Get her! Destroy her!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with panic. He frantically scrawled jagged, desperate shapes in the air, summoning thick, sticky strands of shimmering web that latched onto Eryndra's arms and waist from multiple directions, trying to ensnare her. Xarachnus reared up, its broken legs scrabbling uselessly, and released a final hiss that reverberated in Roy's chest with sickening intensity. Then, with a guttural sigh, it began to wrap Eryndra in a cocoon of its own silk that conjured themselves from thin air.
Seizing what he thought was an advantage, Korrvein conjured a massive, swirling rune in the sky. The clouds above them turned black as pitch, and a malevolent orb of pure, dark energy began to form overhead. It crackled with an unholy light, radiating a horrifying, screeching hum that made Roy's teeth ache and his vision swim.
Zehrina, her face pale but resolute, frowned, layering still more protective wards around the increasingly terrified audience. Kaelor was actually cowering now, his earlier bravado gone. Roy swallowed hard, his connection to Eryndra's mana flow sputtering erratically. Another tremendous drain hit him, a huge chunk this time, leaving him with roughly half of his vast reserves. Gods, whatever she's doing, it's costing a fortune in mana, he thought, a fresh wave of anxiety washing over him.
Abruptly, Eryndra's outline flickered, her form becoming even more translucent, almost ethereal. She drifted through the sticky, ensnaring webbing as if it were mere water, leaving the clinging strands to collapse harmlessly behind her. Roy watched, utterly spellbound, as she soared straight towards the descending orb of dark magic. She passed through it like a phantom, untouched, unaffected, emerging on the other side with her dead, calm eyes locked solely on Korrvein.
The spider instinctively jerked a broken leg in a futile attempt at defense. Eryndra's intangible figure simply slid through the limb, ignoring it as though it were not even there. Then, with a graceful, almost balletic pivot, she returned to full solidity in midair. Her hand shot forward and clamped around Korrvein's jaw. A sickening, wet pop echoed through the clearing as she applied pressure, the sound of bone and sinew surrendering.
Brask, behind Zehrina's now visibly straining barriers, heaved a frustrated, angry sigh. "Curse it all, I suppose I'll have to save the fool." He tried to step through Zehrina's wards, only to be forcefully, violently repelled, slamming back against the invisible wall with a grunt of pain and surprise. His second attempt earned him an even stronger recoil that shoved him back several feet, his face contorted in a snarl of outrage.
"Don't worry your pretty little 'royal' head about it," Zehrina said coolly, meeting Brask's furious glare with calm, unwavering eyes. She gave a small, almost imperceptible, condescending smile. The barrier stood unyielding. "Eryndra won't kill him. Unless, of course," she added, her voice dropping to a soft, dangerous purr, "I suggest it."
Up in the sky, Eryndra tightened her ethereal grip on Korrvein's jaw, her voice a low, chilling whisper that carried on the wind, thick with unspoken promise. "Forfeit now. Or I won't stop until there's nothing left of you but dust and regret."
A choked, gurgling groan escaped Korrvein's lips. His body trembled violently. He managed to lift a shaking, bloodied hand in a gesture of utter, terrified surrender. "I… I… yield," he managed to spit out, his voice a broken rasp.
Eryndra let him loose, not bothering to ensure a gentle descent, but also not throwing him with lethal speed. He tumbled through the air, landing with a painful thud on one of Xarachnus's bent, broken legs. Then Eryndra sprang away from the spider's lifeless bulk, landing gently, almost silently, near the barrier line. Roy watched, a maelstrom of baffled awe, profound relief, and a healthy dose of terror swirling within him. She wore a broad, triumphant, almost childlike grin.
"Did you see, Roy!? Did you SEE THAT?!" she called out, her voice bright and giddy, the terrifying calm completely gone, replaced by an almost manic exuberance. Her face was aglow with the pure, unadulterated joy of victory. She reached for Zehrina's protective dome, and with a casual, almost dismissive yank, tore the layers of wards apart like they were made of tissue paper. They flickered out of existence with a sound like shattering glass. Nearby, Brask's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dark and unsettled passing through them as he witnessed how easily she destroyed Zehrina's formidable defenses.
"Eryndra! Power down before you accidentally kill someone!" Zehrina's voice, usually so composed, now wavered with genuine, earnest concern.
"Oh, right! Oops!" Eryndra squeezed her eyes shut, and the black, liquid-like substance that had saturated her armor flowed back into hidden compartments within her suit. The vents along her armor hissed closed with a series of soft clicks, returning to their usual, sleek, angled position. Her eyes, when she opened them again, were their normal, vibrant shade, no longer flat and dead.
Before Roy could even begin to process the sheer, terrifying magnitude of what he'd just witnessed, Eryndra bounded over to him, excitement radiating from her like a palpable force. She scooped him up as though he weighed nothing more than a doll, spinning him in a small, giddy circle. His face heated with a familiar flush of acute embarrassment at the very public display of affection, or perhaps, victory.
"H-Hey! Put me down! You nearly drained half my entire mana pool out there, you lunatic!" Roy yelped, though his voice lacked any real anger. He couldn't hide the relieved smile that tugged at his lips, nor the tremor of awe that still ran through him. Eryndra carefully lowered him back to the ground, gently patting his back with a force that nearly sent him stumbling.
"Sorry!" She shrugged, a sheepish, unrepentant grin plastered across her face. "I'm still not quite used to that new form yet. I think I drew a little more power than absolutely required. The box called it 'Ghost Matter Drive: Form Two—Apparition Mode!' It's pretty cool, huh?"
She said the ridiculously long and dramatic title with such infectious, childlike excitement that Roy almost laughed out loud. Before he could reply, Brask strode up, his expression a carefully controlled mask. He eyed the dented, twitching Xarachnus, then Korrvein, who was still lying on one of its bent legs, groaning and nursing his clearly dislocated jaw while he desperately drew runic symbols.
"Truly stunning," Brask said, his voice soft, almost a whisper, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "And if Zehrina is indeed at the same level of power… I doubt I'd stand a chance. At least… not right now." He gripped his own arm, his knuckles white with visible frustration. He turned to Zehrina, a new, calculating glint in his eyes. "Let's do this final match a bit differently, shall we?"
"Giving up so soon, Brask?" Zehrina teased, a slight, challenging tilt to her brow.
Brask's jaw flexed almost imperceptibly at the taunt, but he smoothed his expression almost instantly, his composure returning. "I merely have… something else in mind," he muttered, his voice low and thoughtful. Still wearing that faint, unreadable scowl, he stepped back, his gaze sweeping across the clearing, already planning whatever new twist, whatever desperate gambit, he had in mind.
Meanwhile, Roy let out a long, shaky breath. Eryndra flashed him a confident, triumphant wink, and for a moment, Roy forgot about primeval spiders, swirling orbs of dark forbidden magic, or the uncertain, perilous future of this impromptu tournament. The next round, Brask versus Zehrina, was sure to be the climax of this insane day.
Suddenly, a gigantic rune appeared under Xarachnus and the giant spider shrank to the size of Korvvein's hand. He put it in a small box and layer several healing runes over it before closing it gently.
With the battered clearing as their stage, the last, decisive duel was preparing to unfold. And despite all the chaos, the near-catastrophic displays of raw power, and the lingering scent of ozone and spider ichor, Roy found himself… strangely, inexplicably hopeful. Eryndra's unstoppable, terrifying triumph only left one pressing question hanging heavily in the air: If Zehrina was truly just as strong, what on earth could Brask possibly do to even begin to match her?