—Year 400 before the Ascension of the Celestial Monarch—
Blood gushed like a fountain from a woman's head, while her naked body was pierced by a blade for the last time. The last expression her face emitted was one of ecstasy.
Her body was severed; her four limbs, torn off at the root. But her expression was not of pain, it was madness; a madness that Korelia had only seen once in her life, when the crowns and the men who wore them fell beneath the flames of the...
"What a waste," Korelia murmured to herself as she frowned. That woman had died recently, which in itself was dangerous; her killer was probably close. Maybe too close.
And time would prove her right.
The sound of something crawling and regurgitating was heard behind her, the sound of something dead being twisted and desecrated.
Suddenly, where the corpse of the unknown woman had been before, a deformed and fierce figure emerged. That figure was none other than the same woman who had died before, but now transformed into something different.
"What evil sorcery is this?" Korelia growled to herself as she immediately materialized a wall of water that trapped the dancing figure of the undead woman.
And then she realized that her appearance had changed. Her jaw had lengthened slightly, while reddish fur now covered her features. The human traits of most mortals she had seen no longer remained, despite the different races, but the face of a beast.
Of a fox.
"Evohe, evohe, oh Bromius!" exclaimed in an ecstatic tone the woman, who now had the appearance of a fox but the body of a woman.
As she collected her own blood from the ground with her hands, she drank it as if it were wine, while dancing ecstatically and drunk with ecstasy.
Her body, as if it were a force that ignored the elements, rejected the water blocking her path; and when Korelia shot needles or spears of water at her, she rejected them in the same way. She seemed impervious to the elements as she shouted an unknown name in tongues.
"That power is not something a mortal can evoke," Korelia cursed as she retreated.
Her gifts came from her will and her own body. She had restricted herself to using only the water element, because she knew there was someone watching the spectacle from the top: the Magister Elektrim named Varega. And she didn't want to alert him.
After all, her spiritual root was more than abnormal, since it was what allowed her to change her appearance freely. While her ability to manipulate the laws of nature came from her own domain; she called it in a specific way: Star Soul. It was different from the spiritual root, as she felt that, although she had been born with the Star Soul, it didn't awaken until she finally came into contact with her subconscious.
"Damn it, she's too fast," she growled to herself as she backed away.
In an instant, the fox woman had arrived before her and struck in her direction with bare fists.
Korelia transformed in an instant into a swallow escaping the woman's reach, to return to her normal appearance and strike her with a water saber in the back.
"What?" Dazed, she saw how suddenly the apparently weak creature shattered dozens of tiles on the floor despite shattering her own arm. At the same time, the saber shattered her spine.
But even so, a supernatural force gave her energy to turn around and run in her direction again like a mindless beast. Every chaotic movement seemed like a dance seeking to kill her and shed blood for her goddess.
"What ridiculousness, damn it."
She decided to momentarily abandon precautions and, suddenly, behind her conglomerated dozens, if not hundreds, of water particles that materialized into dozens of flying swords.
"Quo me in siluam uenatum uocas?" The fox woman murmured those words in a questioning tone.
Before being pierced simultaneously by dozens of swords.
When the scene had ended, no trace remained of the pitiful woman, and Korelia only felt terrible disgust and absolute pain as she held back nausea.
Killing a warrior was different from killing a woman in an unknown state; and that probably wouldn't be the last time. That thought only caused her more disgust as she looked away from the scene.
"Interesting," growled an unknown voice.
Suddenly a new figure emerged from the corners of the arena passing through one of the passageways; a figure escorted in turn by two figures exactly like the ones she had killed. But the one leading maintained her human appearance, although she was totally naked. Her body was covered in red paint that barely hid her parts, but her fire-red hair seemed to burn not with flames, but with desire and madness; emotions and not energy. A presence that infused madness not into the bodies of mortals, but into their souls and minds.
"You are a Maenad," said Korelia surprised upon understanding the nature of her power.
It was said that the Cult of the Maenads was an ancient cult that used profane powers; it had originated in the west but had spread to the southern continent and then to the east. She had heard rumors about them: women who practiced orgies and bloody rites of sacrifice and mutilation. Now she truly was a witness to it. And then the scarlet-haired figure revealed her appearance causing in turn a distortion in the very air, while the same madness that had invaded the minds of her cultists was trying to make its way into Korelia's own mind.
...
The battle cries and spilled blood could be seen with visceral and almost overexposed clarity in the image projections floating in front of the stands of the different boxes of the huge circus.
And in the highest and most luxurious box, where the most powerful lords of Maeve or their equivalents had the right to enter, the Lord of Maeve himself, Garou Aime, was absent.
Replacing him was none other than another existence; an existence that for many nobles of Maeve was even more terrifying than the rebellious Hegemon in Tara himself.
"That girl will die," Varega said with a tone full of disdain, while maintaining his regal bearing and arrogance even though these were not his domains.
But he had the philosophy that ostentation made the king, not the title; a philosophy that worked relatively well with the rich and fearful aristocrats of Maeve. After all, the Feynir were famous for being wise and austere, but sometimes wisdom could be confused with cowardice, or vice versa.
"Yes, my lord," said one of the nobles; his wheat-gold hair and blue eyes stood out among the multitude of Feynirs of different shades of green. "That pissed-on brat will die at the hands of the Cult of Byzantium before the day ends."
Laughter accompanied those words while Varega smiled. He laughed in a dignified way, as if trying to act with decorum even though no one seemed interested in having it. But everyone watched the combat of the two lethal women with inexplicable curiosity; everyone attentive, everyone with their gaze fixed on the person whose life would be claimed in sacrifice to the circus. Even if there were no longer gods to make sacrifices to.
But then everyone fell silent. Everyone overwhelmed by the tempestuousness of the combat. The figure that had attacked was none other than a figure with bright scarlet hair and skin of a light olive hue, the appearance one would imagine of a member of the blood race.
Her nakedness and ferocity attracted the gaze of everyone present, even Varega and other curious existences within the continent itself.
Her name was Neo Patria.
A committee of the Sacred Clans of the northern continent watched the exchange with severe eyes, just like another mysterious figure that even Varega did not dare to provoke.
It was a woman covered in a red mantle over her head that hid her face, dressed in a golden-white ceremonial robe. She was sitting with her head bowed as if meditating, but that hidden existence emitted such oppression that even a mortal lord like Varega couldn't help but feel absolutely insignificant before her. Even if she didn't even pay attention to him.
While her opponent... Well, there wasn't much to say about her. The combat had had an initial resistance, but the unknown one, the dark horse of those desperate for a quick profit, was being overcome.
Her weapon, an ice spear she had materialized using her gifts, was shattered by one of Neo Patria's swift blades. But it wasn't her only weapon: dozens of flying ice swords surrounded the cultist as if they were a multitude of swordsmen and shot toward her.
They were fast, but Neo Patria was faster. Varega could see her movements with some difficulty, but they were perfect: each one destroyed every attack no matter where it came from, doing flips and acrobatics in the air while moving her blades bathed in blood of previous victims.
Her speed was absolute. In an instant, the blade had disappeared into the body of the girl with bright crimson hair to reappear on the other side of her collarbone.
Blood gushed from the wound staining the girl's clothes; a frozen blood sword suddenly emerged from the same wound in the direction of the bloodthirsty woman. But she quickly dodged it and retreated to a safe distance in a few moments.
The confrontation had lasted less than ten breaths, but it was enough so that even some nobles lacking combat experience couldn't react. Neo Patria smiled and said a few words before turning around with a gesture of leaving, despising her opponent.
"That girl..." suddenly murmured the voice of the hooded figure behind the mantle. She had stood up. "I want her."
And without anyone understanding the meaning of her words, they saw her simply shake the palm of her hand slightly. And then she sat back down, as if nothing had happened.