Ashrik had battled head-on with Helena a few times in the past.
A persistent pest, that was his impression of her. They were on the same rank before, until he advanced to the seventh level.
During those fights, Ashrik had almost thrown Helena across Death's door twice. And twice, she had successfully tricked him by sacrificing her minions.
"Maybe, you're the one who will die this time."
Helena's voice was low, trembling with a manic fury that scraped like a broken glass against metal. Her reddish hair was wind-tossed. Her wild eyes were fixed entirely on the ice wielder.
Ashrik narrowed his eyes, racking his brain for Helena's possible schemes this time. No matter what kind of tricks she had up her sleeves, he couldn't afford to be fooled.
The clearing around them crackled with leftover flames and ice. The ground was scarred as the espers on both sides had halted fighting, cautiously watching their leaders facing one another.
