She fought in three directions at the same time.
With a sword in her hand and whips in the air and portals on the ground and along the walls of the dirt mounds, creating angles of attack that had no fixed logic and were therefore difficult to anticipate.
But she was exhausted.
That was visible too. Her movements were still precise, but the intervals between them were growing longer.
The sword weighed more than it had at the beginning, or at least that was what the way her shoulders carried it suggested. Her feet found the ground with less certainty.
Freja waited.
She did not attack when she could have attacked. She observed Inori's rhythm, the pattern of her portals, the moment when her attention focused on Evelyne and the moment when it split toward Seraphine. She waited until she found the interval she was looking for.
Then her three tentacles shot forward at the same time.
