Lavla's face had gone paler, bloody sweat beading along her forehead as she struggled to maintain her constructs.
Blood surged up from the arena floor, forming giant crimson fists and blades, but Iris remained untouched.
Steam hissed violently as vaporized blood sprayed across the arena. Iris's nose was covered again, and she twisted away with a disgusted glare.
"Pathetic," she spat. "Filthy."
The arena floor was now a battlefield of blood, fire, and vapor, slick and chaotic. Iris hovered above on a sword, her wings beating furiously to keep her in a safe zone away from any stray drops and odour.
She commanded her swords without batting an eye.
She'd reduced them to three: One sword sliced through a massive blood tentacle; another deflected a barrage of whips; a third spun in a protective arc around her, vaporizing the smallest threats before they could reach her.
Lavla was being pushed to use up all she could, her pride preventing her from throwing in the towel.
