“Now that was a surprise~! Didn’t expect Arty to get all moody over a little girl but I’m not rusty~” <Girl in Black>
“You know I’m still here you unlucky plague.” <’Arty’>
A girl in a black one piece bent backwards - into an effortless backflip - as a vicious blood red sword intent ripped through the surrounding bush and even shaved the top of a mountain in the background.
It was obviously a casual move as the one who caused it only held a wooden sword for a child in their hand. Casually tapping it on their shoulder. They wore a white shirt and black pants with waist length crimson hair left loose with two pointy crimson fox ears atop his head.
His shirt was baggy with cuffs tapering the shirt at her wrists while also being tucked into the somewhat ‘sharper’ trousers (though still somewhat baggy except for the tapered ends).
A red sash tied around their waist not only kept their pants but seemed lonely with no sword at his waist. Another note on their appearance would be the blood red eyes that came with an unyielding sharpness - most every element of the man could be claimed ‘sharp’ and it wasn’t like his outfit was low quality - more like that of a prince of the sword.
Though to call him a mere ‘prince of the sword’ would be like calling Sohn-Tochter the little miss of a village mayor...
Their stance wasn’t exactly what one would say ‘engaged’ in the duel and the fact the 5 foot girl's hands rested behind her back showed she too wasn’t too bothered. It was more like two old comrades testing their compatriot after a long time.
The girl also had a voluptuous head of hair… That was ‘contained all the colours of the night sky’ to say the least - her open back dress was similar.
“You know fine well the ‘plague’ is my second child… Which makes me very curious as to how she knew about this little game.” <Girl in Black>
“Not my problem.” <Arty>
A sharp response that was followed by a half hearted slash - also it was ‘weak and half-hearted’ to him, many wished they had such ability with a regular sword let alone a toy for a child.
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All Eel could do was barely look up at this outstanding figure; a figure who many overlooked as nothing short of a sidekick to a [Hero] and couldn’t help but mock those people silently in her mind.
<So this is what it’s like when facing the peak of this worlds power? This is what I can accomplish when facing a pillar from the past… If I didn’t awaken my inherited memories I’d never know who this was - {True God of Tribulation - Supreme Sovereign of Storms} and...>
With great difficulty Eel infused her body with the nature around her - it was difficult and she couldn’t say she quite understood what it meant when her inherited memories told her ‘the tribulation lightning from the mortal realm can even shatter meridians’...
But she certainly understood now. A powerful pain that was hard to describe was filling every inch of her body - it was akin to the aching of a wounded organ but it was spiritual not physical!
A link between body and soul being wounded certainly wasn’t a good thing!
In fact, it was questionable if any creature could move with all of their meridians shattering. Why else would people fear the heavens?
However…
“Oh? I didn’t think anyone other than {The Cockroach Jeeves} could move after a wound like that… No, I suppose I am underestimating my Blood Brother’s bloodline too much.” <Sovereign of Storms>
“...” <Eel>
She tried to reply to that emotionless voice but her body refused to listen - after all who would dare speak in the presence of a monarch after being denied the right?
Nonetheless, slowly Eel Jr moved… Slowly was accurate.
<The only reason I’ve been allowed to move is according to her code as a knight making her allow me to struggle as a form of respect… Heh, as expected, I shouldn’t be able to move… This must be [Resilience]?>
Her thoughts became silent as she was only pondering to take away from the unbearable pain.
Some may say it’s a mercy to put her down out of her misery - that would be what most knights also thought - but it seemed {Sovereign of Storms} allowed her the right to die as a warrior.
On her feet…
No matter how long it takes her to get there - of course, part of that respect was to offer no help in standing.
Though - it wasn’t like {Sovereign of Storms} was doing nothing as the screams similar to that of the {Giant Green Lizard} & {Wyvern} were often shortened by booming thunder.
Sometimes even quieter ‘bangs’ could be heard over the thundering tribulations and roars along with the sound of even more menacing roars that Eel simply chose not to worry about.
As such, the seconds turned to minutes and it was almost an hour that had passed before Eel managed to make it to her knees, finally she’d had the chance to fully gaze upon the figure of her killer.
Looking up at the figure who was seemingly floating in a gale of wind a lightning - like an immortal regent held up by the arms of their people - the feeling that overcame any kind of fear or trepidation was awe.
The crimson cape billowed behind her - her rich blue armour seemingly made from tempered scales and on each shoulder would be the blue skull of a dragon and four smaller ones making themselves a guard for her knees and elbows… From the pressure exuding from the materials though; it seems a skilled artisan had in fact used a technique to increase density at the cost of size.
Looking at all the scales that came together to make a mobile yet fully armoured figure a question arose.
<How many dragons far stronger than me has she actually killed?>
A plume of golden feathers, taken from a long extinct species of dragon, adorned the top and bottom of the cape increasing it’s majesty. The gauntlets and boots were shaped like that of a dragon's claws - reminiscent of how Eel’s would look if the scales weren’t peeling off due to being lit up like a lightbulb a while ago.
It may seem strange for a Dragon-Slayer to completely theme their presence after the powerful beasts but when the only creature of somewhat equal standard is a legendary Phoenix…
Well it becomes the best thing to ironically slay dragons with!
Of course, the woman in front of her wasn’t just any {Dragon-Slayer} and in truth she already knew what she was.
The original {Dragon-Slayers} like just about all things in this world - they came in three.
The most famous and widely remembered is the {Dragon-Slaying Blade} who was touted as a god on the battlefield with no equal. A figure one could only call as what one things of when they think of 'a supreme swordsman' - though most of this was found outside of her own inherited memory but instead from books and stories she'd heard since she was a child.
Of course, he was no where as popular as 'Photon' for example.
Mostly forgotten in the shadows but still remembered and feared {Dragon-Slaying Mind} {The Black Cat} Cheshire - the previous ‘True Rogue’ before vanishing - presumably dying in the second war like the Blade.
And ironically, the only one to survive but one all but forgotten on the western side of the world, {Dragon-Slaying Spear} who stole the power of tribulation from the {Divine Ancient Tribulation Dragon Vor} who she now uses to adorn her throne.
The only person to deft the Heaven’s Judgement then proceed to become the Heaven's Judgement!
Of course, [Lightening Tribulation] hardly occurs on this side of the world.
<Apparently this is due to, as my inherited memories (from what I imagine if my second bloodline and not the dragon one) put it, [The Scaleless Bitch]~!>
Bloodline inherited memories is just knowledge passed down so as can be seen in this case… It can be somewhat ‘lacking context’ if something is considered too common sense to be added.
She wouldn’t have even known about the one in front of her if it wasn’t for that knowledge.
But, regardless of any thoughts she had on the figure in front of her, it seemed said figure was her executioner for the day. Nonetheless, Eel rose to her feet. Slowly and shakenly with only the bottom most layer of her skin able to regenerate after hours had passed.
Her insides were also somewhat fixed and surprisingly even her wounded meridians showed signs of recovery…
But after hours it was hardly enough.
To fight?
To escape?
No, to stand up.
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