Lilith's threads twisted and fused, each strand hardening into blade-sharp edges as they wove together. The fragmented shards of Soulreaver aligned in perfect formation—dozens of gleaming black swords hovering behind her like a phantom army.
"Can you match this?"
Celine's lips curled into a thin, cold smile. She spat to the side, a dismissive gesture, and settled into a low stance. Her blade shifted, the crimson edge catching the dim light as she adjusted her grip. A thin, wispy aura began to seep from her body like heat rising from sun-baked stone. It curled around her limbs, her blade, her very breath, and she let out a slow, steadying exhale.
"Don't underestimate me."
Celine's stance tightened, her muscles coiling like a spring as she planted her feet. A thin, sharp smile curled her lips.
"White Demonic Step."
She shot forward. Her blade carving a straight, brutal line toward Lilith's chest.
