The entire area trembled as if the land itself feared what was coming. The very magic in the air screamed, a high-pitched, keening sound recoiling violently from the rift.
Harry could feel it, the world's mana seemed to shrink back like prey before a predator, the ambient magical energy dissolving into a sterile void around the tear in reality.
The sky darkened, shifting from the afternoon clear blue to starless black, and the sea began to bubble and boil, from the wave of heat that suddenly hit the surrounding area, followed by an oppressive sense of unease, a cold weight that seemed to crush the joy from the world, leaving behind only the scent of iron and ash.
Then came the weight, like an invisible hand pressing down, trying to force him to kneel, to submit. His body screamed at him to bow, to find immediate, instinctual comfort in submission to a higher power.
But No. It felt like an insult to his very being to kneel to someone else.
Jaw clenched until his teeth ached, back straight as he stood. he had forced himself to remain standing. This stubborn posture was the only rebellion he could manage against the cosmic pressure. His eyes, intently focused, remained locked on the rift so as not to miss a single, critical detail.
And he didn't.
What emerged was no beast of shadow, no formless void, but a woman, beautiful in a way that was terrible and divine. She was breathtaking, amazing. For a heartbeat, Harry felt his mind slip, drawn toward her.
He shook his head sharply, shaking off the mental haze that had clouded his mind. What was that? It felt like he was being sucked in, mentally and magically, his awareness momentarily consumed by her terrifying charisma. He cleared his head and focused solely on the heretic god.
She wore a loincloth laced with bones at the waist, her chest bound tightly in dark fur and steel, with armored pauldrons upon her shoulders, and bracers wrapped tight around her arms.
In one hand gleamed a long, cruel sword that seemed to drink the light, its surface shifting from silver to absolute black. Black hair like a starless night spilled down her back, thick and untamed, crowned by a bird's skull helm with dark feathers flaring dramatically outward, like a battle banner.
It was a weird getup for a god, looking like someone who came right out of a DnD campaign, but it fit her so well for some reason.
The rift sealed behind her with a sound like a thousand iron doors slamming shut, leaving a shimmering ghost of energy hanging in the air. Her eyes, the color of storm clouds and the sea after a hurricane, found his, and she offered a cold, predatory smile.
"You are finally here, little God-slayer," she spoke, her voice soft and feminine yet laced with a chorus of shrieks echoing behind every word, the ghostly resonance of a thousand lost souls she commanded. "I have waited years for this battle."
Harry's internal pause was immediate, chilling. 'Excuse me. Years? What is she talking about?' Surely she meant Campiones in general? Yet his gut instinct was telling him otherwise.
He forced the feeling down, forcing his lips to stretch into a defiant smile. "You wouldn't be here just for sightseeing, would you? The view here isn't all that great anyway."
Her lips pulled back into a savage grin, one that promised violence and ecstasy in equal measure. "I'm afraid I'm here for more than just the sights… HARRY POTTER." She finished, slowly drawing out his full name as if tasting the word on her tongue.
A sudden chill ran up his spine. 'How did she—' "How did I know you?" she purred, tilting her head as though reading his thoughts. "I told you. I have been waiting for this fight for years… and I will not wait any longer."
Before he could process the statement, she launched herself from her position in the sky, a dive-bombing streak of silver and shadow, her sword screaming down in a flash of silver-black. She wasn't going to give him time to think.
Harry raised his hands, summoning his dagger just in time to meet her strike. Steel clashed against enchanted steel with a shockwave that cleared the area around them, uprooting trees, shattering stones, and tearing the very earth away, leaving a fresh, raw crater nearly fifty feet wide. God and God-slayer met in the center, power crashing outward, the sound deafening.
She twisted, breaking his guard with frightening ease. Her blade bit into the ground as she used it to pivot, an anchor point of perfect balance, then her boot slammed into his chest, launching him like a ragdoll. Arrgg.
The impact jarred every bone and muscle, it felt like a collapsing mountain. His arms felt numb. He hit the ground hard, falling backwards and rolling a little before barely managing to set himself upright, raising his dagger just as her sword descended again.
Weapons ground together, sparks flying out, and as she pushed down, he was forced onto his right knee. Letting out a scream of effort, he shoved her back. He flung her away and immediately rushed her, but she was not unbalanced by the push back. She simply mimicked him, rushing him head-on with flawless speed.
They battled it out, sword versus dagger. Harry knew he was strong, quick, and skilled, but only skilled by human standards. He had realized that when he fought the Hound of Ulster.
Cú Chulainn had shown him that yes, he was powerful, but not skilled. He remembered the chilling clarity of Cú Chulainn's movements, and this Goddess was an order of magnitude higher. That was why he trained nearly all the time, but it seemed all that effort was for nothing as he was getting cut apart here by a master swordsman.
He grimaced when he felt another cut on his right side, the blade slicing through the skin and muscle like wet paper. He winced and moved to block the next strike with his dagger, but the way she moved, the grace she moved with as she turned and twisted her sword, dodging him and evading his blade to her's made him miss the block. Her blade slashed upwards, cutting him deep in a diagonal line across his torso, the pain sharp and blinding.
He jumped back, staggering, and put distance between them. A glance down revealed his tunic was soaked in crimson, the sheer volume of blood alarming.
This time, she didn't give chase. She only stood there, watching him with that savage grin, a silent taunt. She was allowing him to bleed and to have his time so that the fight could continue.
'This is bad,' Harry thought to himself, breath hitching in his chest. They had just been playing around, but I know just from that that I might actually die here today if I'm not careful.'
She was as strong and as fast as him, she was better skilled, and worst of all, she hadn't used her Authority as a god yet, just matching him in skills like a human. He hadn't either, but... he sighed, 'it won't matter anyway. My best Authority for raw damage is the Rend, and if she's this fast, it'll be tough to land.'
The most important thing when fighting a Heretic God was knowing who they were, it would give him clues. But he had no clue who this woman was, and that was bad news.
To be perfectly frank, he was expecting Thanatos or someone like that, a god of death. The crow motif, the shrieking voices... it suggested a war or death deity, he was sure she was a death god, but not one he could immediately name. He was sure there were clues in her appearance, but he didn't really have time for that now, did he?
They went at it again, but this time it was worse. It seemed like she was making sure to carve the way of her sword into his body, not just to wound, but to teach him a lesson, deliberate and cruel. She was tracing patterns of agony, shallow cuts on his biceps, a sharp slice across his thigh.
They battled for a while before Harry took a chance, nearly getting impaled, but he caught her hand that thrust the sword. He didn't just grab it, he crushed it with his enhanced grip, flicker of victory over the perfect goddess.
She took the instant of his fleeting joy to execute her counter. Before his mind could register the success, she released the sword, grabbed him by the collar of his blood-soaked shirt, and slammed him down into the ground like a piece of refuse, the impact cracking the earth beneath his head.
She stepped on him, slamming her foot onto his chest, right over his bruised ribs, earning a cry of pain from him as the air exploded from his lungs. Then, in a puff of black, acrid smoke, she vanished, only to reappear instantly above him, coming down in a final, killing sword slash with the reclaimed weapon.
He blocked with the dagger, but that seemed like bad news as the enchanted steel of the blade cracked down its center line. The stress of the blow sent him flying due to the pressure. He rolled away and stared at the hilt of the blade, which was all that remained. It had served him well, at least. He sent the remaining pieces back into his hammer space, a fleeting thought of replacement already forming in his battle-scarred mind.
Okay, he had to get serious. It was time to switch from defense to overwhelming offense. He drew upon the primal, brutal strength of the Great Wolf, his voice raw with pain and fury as he focused the Authority of the Rend:
"I am the Great Predator unchained, whose jaw knows no limit and fears no binding! I demand the weapon that cleaves the invisible and fractures the absolute! By the iron teeth of the World-Eater, let Law be broken, let Form be nullified, and let all Reality beneath my strike be Rend!"
Fenririan Rend. His claws sharpened into wickedly long, midnight-black talons, and his fangs grew slightly, his eyes taking on a predatory yellow gleam. He rushed her like the beast he was, a terrifying, low-to-the-ground blur.
He sent slashes that didn't just cut air, but left shimmering, dissolving trails in space, momentarily revealing the unmaking of the conceptual barrier that holds reality together. He kept slashing as she dodged everything with effortless grace, forcing him to keep his distance.
He sent one fast slash, then he slammed his hands into the ground, creating a tremor and shockwave that unbalanced her for a split second. He then impaled her with his claws, sinking them deep into her torso, and took an immediate bite out of her to try to end it quickly before she decided to take things seriously. He pinned her to the ground and for a second thought he won. For a second.
But before he could finish her off, her body burst apart into a swirling flock of black crows, escaping the crushing grip of his Authority. The explosion was dissolving his feathers.
Harry's eyes widened. The phantom birds scattered into the air, feathers raining down as her voice echoed from the murder of wings, carrying a mocking, feminine lilt that was utterly dismissive of his effort.
"Did you think it would be so easy, little God-slayer? To pin a warrior goddess with a simple trick of the earth?"
Harry froze, then let out a breathless laugh despite the blood dripping down his chin.
"...Did I just get Itachi'ed?
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