The temple wall exploded like thunder in the night's silence.
Aisha was hurled brutally into the courtyard but landed perfectly, her bare feet sliding smoothly over the broken stones. The sword in her hand was already in pieces. Her eyes, covered by blood-soaked bandages, could not see—but she felt. Every presence. Every breath. Every murderous intent around her.
Her body was a portrait of war: dried and fresh blood covered her skin, mixed with that of the enemies who had already fallen. In the center of the vast courtyard, she stood. Alone. And surrounded.
The Reapers occupied every point of the walls around her. Ahead of her, walking through the debris of the destroyed wall, came the Captains. Her siblings.
Saraya was the first to laugh, the sound sharp as steel.
— Is that all you have, Empress? What a pathetic joke...
Kabel, a giant of muscle and arrogance, mocked:
— And to think you took pride in close combat... You can barely stand.
Zouden, with his red blade pulsing with bloodlust, walked slowly, his eyes fixed on her—eyes that were once a brother's, now filled with hate.
Beside him, the twins Miran and Krow watched her with disdain.
Myrrha, the dominator of demonic chains, moved away from the group with an icy smile, guiding her horrors.
Krow began molding possessed stone dolls.
Miran conjured flaming beasts in the shadows.
And in the middle of them all, Aisha—motionless. Untouchable.
She lifted her chin.
— Truly... weaklings together can be noisy. But it won't help.
The aura around her crackled.
It started as a whisper and then roared—a spiritual poison emerging like a gigantic, ethereal, greenish serpent that enveloped the entire courtyard. The speed was absurd. Within seconds, all the summoned demons turned to dust. The creatures that once threatened were now mere ashes at the Empress's feet.
The Captains shuddered. Not just physically—but in their souls.
They felt as if the poison were injected directly into their spirits. Techniques vanished. Strength fled.
The lesser Reapers on the flanks collapsed unconscious.
Aisha snarled:
— I don't have time. Let's finish this quickly.
She opened her arms, blood dripping from her fingertips.
— Come. Embrace me, my dear family... your eldest sister awaits.
Zouden was the first to advance.
His cursed blade, studded with pain, had already wounded Aisha inside the temple. But the effect was temporary. He needed one more strike. A single cut, and he would become resistant—for moments—to her poisonous aura.
He charged, striking with ferocity.
Aisha dodged each attack with supernatural fluidity. And then, the opening.
She murmured:
— Here, my little brother. Your embrace...
With a swift spin, she crossed her arm with his and struck his face with a devastating punch. The impact hurled him against the nearest wall like a stone.
Myrrha appeared behind.
Saraya summoned dozens of crimson scythes.
The pincer attack began.
But Aisha danced between the attacks as if the world around her were in slow motion.
She leaped, slid, spun along the walls, while explosions erupted behind her every movement.
Kabel waited in the center. A titan.
Aisha faced him and leaped directly at him.
— You said my close combat was weak, right?
She concentrated all her spiritual energy into a single point: her fist.
The energy oscillated in violent waves.
The shift in position, balance, and spiritual tension fused into a single blow.
When their fists collided, Kabel's arm cracked like broken glass.
Aisha didn't stop. Her aura poisoned him from within, making his movements slow, pathetic.
She struck his face relentlessly—each punch broke bones, shattered teeth, crushed his jaw.
— Say it again, please. I can't hear you.
Kabel was destroyed.
Saraya launched more slashes from the sky.
Aisha used Kabel as a shield, holding him as if he were light as a feather.
Then she threw him to the ground—and vanished.
Within seconds, she reappeared above, spinning the chains Kabel carried.
She threw them at Saraya, who was floating. Bound her.
Pulled hard and hurled her to the ground.
Saraya fell face-first, bleeding, screaming.
Aisha dragged her across the courtyard like a sack of meat, then threw her with precision against Zouden's body.
Myrrha, hidden in the shadows, saw it all.
Felt fear for the first time.
She broke her own seal.
She surrendered to the demon inhabiting her body. She was no longer human.
The other Captains did the same.
Demonic powers intensified, except for Kabel, who was already dead.
But not even hell was a match for the Empress's aura.
Aisha spread her arms and shouted:
— MORE!
She was learning, understanding her own power and form in this fight.
She ran like a hurricane.
Faster than light.
Saraya, even wounded, summoned a rain of blood.
Blades plummeted from the sky.
Zouden plunged his sword into the ground, and red corruption spread like poison.
Cursed fissures took over the courtyard.
A pact was sealed.
Aisha's wounds multiplied.
The pain... was as if her bones were melting.
As if the very air were on fire.
But she had already been reborn from hell. Nothing compared to what she had endured.
Even staggering, she sensed the source of the spell.
Myrrha.
She advanced—and fell into the demonic seals scattered across the ground.
She was trapped in mirrored dimensions.
The distorted reality blinded her, paralyzed her. But Aisha felt.
Every crack. Every fissure. Every opening.
She exploded her spiritual energy with violence, shattering all barriers as if they were glass.
The ethereal shards floated in the air.
Aisha reappeared.
Myrrha barely had time to see.
She tried to conjure something, but in the blink of an eye, her head was rolling on the ground.
Zouden. Red eyes, black veins.
He had completed the requirements for his technique—he had cut Aisha four times, the necessary number: three times inside the temple and once now outside with his last strike.
But he needed more time to activate it—time he was not given.
Aisha grabbed him and smashed his skull against the wall. Once, twice, three times—until nothing remained.
Saraya tried to flee, flying in desperation.
But Aisha focused her aura on her.
The air vanished. Saraya suffocated. Her demon too.
She fell. The impact was brutal. Silence.
Aisha then looked at the two youngest siblings: Miran and Krow.
They did not move.
The fear was explicit.
Merely looking at her made them fall to their knees—and faint.
The slaughter was complete.
Aisha's once white and angelic clothes were now soaked in blood.
Wounds covered her body, but she remained standing.
A whisper escaped her lips:
— I... destroyed.
She looked around. Bodies. Blood. Ruins.
A broken courtyard. A shattered history.
And in the center of it all...
Aisha.
The Empress of Poisons.
Azaroth... You're next.
To be continued…