The fire still surged up her arm when the decision was made.
There was no hesitation, no prolonged calculation—just a clean, brutal, and definitive movement. The short blade emerged from her remaining hand, and before any attempt at restraint could be made, it descended upon her own shoulder.
The cut was precise.
Absolute.
The arm severed from her body as if it were just another obstacle in the way.
For an instant, the world seemed to slow down. The limb, still engulfed in white flames, fell spinning slowly through the air, consumed from the inside out by that energy that was not confined to matter, while the rest of her body recoiled with a dry impulse, forcefully creating distance.
Strax didn't pursue her.
He merely watched.
His eyes followed the arm's fall for a second before returning to her, his expression unchanged, as if it were nothing surprising—just another piece of data being recorded.
And then—
The regeneration began.
It wasn't subtle. It wasn't slow.
