The attacker had moved like a shadow—swift, silent, utterly undetectable.
Even the Crest of the Star etched into Altera's body, normally keen to any threat, failed to warn her until it was already too late.
And through that emblem, she sensed it—pure, lethal intent.
A simple palm, sharpened like a blade—yet the energy concentrated within it could pierce even her divine crest, aimed straight at her heart.
No time to dodge.
No chance to block.
A fatal strike.
So this was it, then.
The voice that had once told her this summoning would bring "answers"…
Had it lied?
Or had she still been too weak to reach them?
Just like before—destroy, destroy, destroy—until the cycle ended only with her death.
But as that thought flickered through her mind, another image rose unbidden:
The soldiers of Uruk, standing behind her.
Frail humans, barely capable of surviving a single blow from her sword, yet still fighting desperately against an endless tide of beasts.
Their strength was small—but their will was absolute.
Her own armies had known only conquest and ruin. Never had she witnessed such unity, such determination to protect rather than destroy.
If nothing else… she could at least win them a brief reprieve.
That single thought filled her mind.
They said one's sense of time stretched infinitely in the instant of death. She hadn't felt it before—but this time, she did.
Her sword was still inverted from her last strike, its hilt pointing behind her.
When she turned toward the attack, the weapon's hilt—by sheer coincidence—aligned with her assailant's approach.
She had no time to aim.
No intuition left to guide her.
Only the concept of destruction woven into the Sword of the War God itself—its power to wound anything it touched.
Even if she couldn't kill the enemy outright, injuring them severely would be enough.
Her life, traded for that wound.
That would be enough.
Light gathered at the sword's base as the palm-blade closed in—and in the next heartbeat, a tri-colored beam burst into the sky, followed by a spray of crimson.
Altera blinked, dazed. The brilliant column of light had pierced the air, but its target wasn't her.
The hand that had been moments from her chest was now severed, spinning away in a trail of blood—and Altera herself was suddenly yanked backward by a sharp, overwhelming force.
A second explosion shook the ground as the attacker's body was kicked clear across the clearing by a figure in black robes.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the forest.
"You alright?"
The voice was cool, level.
Only then did Altera regain her senses.
"Yes… Thank you."
Detached as ever, though the faint unease in her eyes betrayed her shaken calm.
Ophis gave a small nod, glancing at the severed hand on the ground. Her expression shifted—just slightly.
With the crunch of soil collapsing, the white-robed attacker rose again.
Ophis recognized that figure instantly.
She had spent countless nights beside that face.
But now, she pushed down the flicker of emotion in her chest and met it with a calm, icy stare.
"I didn't expect you to come in person."
"Enkidu" pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, the other regrowing the lost arm from flowing earth. Her voice was cold, but strained.
"Do all so-called kings have this much leisure to meddle?"
Ophis tilted her head.
That one kick shouldn't have caused such a reaction. Yet Enkidu looked… disturbed.
"Damn it… Why are there so many errors…!?"
She sounded genuinely enraged—confused, even.
Why… why did her body react this way just by seeing her?
Forcing the feeling down, "Enkidu" turned toward Altera, eyes flashing.
"Woman! Answer me! Why does the power of Marduk appear in your hands!?"
Altera blinked once, head tilting in faint puzzlement.
"I… don't know who Marduk is."
Her honesty only deepened the other's scowl.
"Tch…"
A woman wielding Marduk's power was an unacceptable threat to Mother—and had to die.
But the presence of that black-robed king threw her into chaos.
Ophis took advantage of that hesitation.
"Altera. Leave."
Altera hesitated briefly, glancing between them.
"I'll handle Enkidu. Go back to Merlin."
Hearing the finality in Ophis's tone, Altera obeyed without question.
Looking in the direction Ophis indicated, she saw Merlin waving cheerfully from a distant ridge.
…Come to think of it, wasn't he supposed to be preventing disruptions from reaching the battlefield?
Then how had this one gotten through?
But Altera wasn't the type to overthink. She turned and left, heading toward the magus.
This was bad.
Watching her opponent retreat, "Enkidu" gritted her teeth, struggling to contain the errors flooding her system.
She wanted to chase, to kill—but Ophis's presence paralyzed her more than she cared to admit.
And besides… if Ophis fell here, Uruk would collapse soon after. That, too, was not acceptable.
The woman wielding Marduk's power could be eliminated later.
For now—
Target confirmed.
"I'll kill you."
Her emerald eyes locked on Ophis as she crouched low.
A heartbeat later, her form vanished into a blur.
"A mere weapon dares speak so boldly."
Ophis didn't even bother to track the motion. She simply raised her hand beside her ear—and caught the incoming kick with perfect precision, as though she had predicted it all along.
Boom!
The ground cracked under the pressure, yet Ophis didn't move an inch.
"Enkidu could never defeat me," she said flatly. "I am invincible."
Unsurprised by the failure, "Enkidu" flipped backward into the air.
With a flick of her sleeve, she unleashed several spears that detonated around Ophis in violent bursts, engulfing her in flame.
A moment later, the inferno scattered—blown away by Ophis's surge of magic.
A golden spear streaked through the haze straight toward her forehead, its tip blazing with divine power—one imbued with the concept of dragon-slaying.
Of course.
Spears were Enkidu's true domain, next to her chains.
"Still… since it's you," Ophis murmured, a faint smile curving her lips, "I suppose I can afford to get a little serious."
As the radiant spear descended, the night air split apart with a thunderous crack.
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