Alice looked little better. The blood-red current that had swirled around body was gone, frame shrunken back to its usual breadth. She stood bruised and caked in gore, breaths ragged, yet still stood.
“Corin, you’ve lost,” rasped, pride gleaming through the ruin of voice. Corin’s answer was a silent, bitter stare, could only accept the verdict etched across the battlefield.
Disciples from the Sword Sect rushed in, steadying Corin with trembling arms. Rage blazed in their eyes, but despair weighed down every gesture, they all knew that if their master had fallen, their blades were nothing more than offerings to death.
Alice’s gaze swept past them and locked onto Jared, sprawled amid broken masonry. Murder flashed behind pupils.
“Time to finish the last loose thread…”
She took one deliberate step, then another, toward the wounded man. Lyra stumbled into path, knees knocking, but spine held straight. “Y-You can’t touch him!”
Alice barked a laugh. “Out of my way, child…”
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