“It was quite pathetic,” Ashton rose to his feet and took out his sword. “The way he died. A small man, never able to see the big picture.” His gaze was cold and calculating. “But what about you?”
“Pathetic indeed,” Elana had to agree. She had wanted to torture the man for longer. But perhaps it was a good thing she hadn’t.
Elana looked around, noting the wide, empty area she had earned. People were looking at her in fear and apprehension. Some looked sick, ready to puke. Even the other powerful fighters had slowed down their battles and paid her attention.
If she had gone further, letting her inner sadist truly show, Elana would have pushed these people away to an unrecoverable degree. She glanced at Catarina, who was smiling but also sending a warning with her gaze – she couldn’t go overboard from now on.
Next to her smaller friend, Elana’s sister was wearing an ecstatic face. Mary was being held back by Cinthia from rushing into the battles. Around the trio, several people from the clergy were forming a group. They were a small island in the sea of chaos. But not the only one.
“Moira,” She called out to her lover. Elana looked at the other peaceful place in the hall. Her girl was finally next to the royals, struggling to get the Lantern, which somehow had fallen into the King’s hands. “It is time.”
“I fucking know!” Moira’s voice barely reached Elana.
“So, how do I deal with you?” Ashton was measuring his fiancee.
Elana glanced at Duke Arkoly, who had driven his opponent into a corner, his wind snuffing out the flames the other noble tried to conjure. Soon, the Duke and his supporters would turn their fangs against the Royal family.
“Funny, I was thinking just the same,” She hefted her sword while measuring how much mana she still had left. The spectacle had used up a lot, but she still had a bit under half of her maximum amount. “What kind of a moron God would bless you?”
Ashton shrugged. “God of Hansomness, clearly.” He flashed a toothy grin. “Wanna see a trick?” His expression didn’t change, but…
Alarms rang in Elana’s head. “Moira!” She pushed a good chunk into forming chunks of ice in front of her.
The impromptu wall exploded, showering everything in powdery ice. Ashton stepped forward – in his arms were two giant hammers he somehow wielded without any strain. “Now. I wonder. Are you a Saintess? If so, which God did bless you.” He raised his hammers again, slamming them into the ice in front of him.
“Moira!” Elana shuddered as her spell was forcefully broken.
“A little busy here!” Moira finally responded.
Elana glanced at her woman and saw her struggling with the King over the possession of the Lantern while the Princess was holding back the guards. “What the fuck?” She couldn’t even fathom what was happening next to the throne.
Under her watch, Moira tumbled to the ground, pulling the old ruler along. The Princes, meanwhile, used her body to valiantly fight the guards, who didn’t know how to deal with the royal breasts in front of them.
It was too stupid to look at. Elana bit down on her tongue, refusing to ask for help. She raised her sword and formed a thick sheet of ice on her other hand, using it as a shield.
And just as soon as she did, Elana was forced to endure a mighty blow against her shield, making her skid backwards. Her body hurt from the impact, and she pulled on the divine energy to soothe it and try to heal the small injuries she sustained from the short encounter.
“Haha,” Ashton was still pushing forward. One of his hammers fell again, crushing the hastily thrown ice in his way. “So! Which God? From how you are, it must have been something cruel.” He chased.
It hurt Elana’s soul to admit it, but she needed help. Her battle experience was nowhere near what Ashton possessed. Each time she had an idea, the infuriating man countered it with brute force.
Elana glanced at the throne again, her dodging growing more desperate. Moira seemed to have won the scuffle, but the Lantern didn’t light up. She looked for help, noticing Bishop Romoly was shouting instructions.
Not finding immediate respite, Elana finally met her opponent’s hammer with her sword. Her full power managed to stop the strike, forcing them into a momentary standstill.
Yet, Elana was losing out in the struggle for pure strength. “Was it a God of Brute Strength?” She heaved while being pushed back.
“Ahaha, no,” Ashton enjoyed their locked state, his muscles building beneath his suit. “It was actually a God of Craftsmanship and Artisans.” He pulled back and struck a pose with his hammers.
“Ridiculous,” Elana rotated her sore arm. She wanted to say it was impossible, but then again, her own God wasn’t exactly known for sadism and a domineering spirit. And those two hammers did look like something a stone mason or sculptor would use.
“Not so. I enjoy crafting my body, you know!” Ashton flexed again, striking several poses. “I guess you can’t tell with my suit on.” He sadly noted. “I wanted to amaze you at our wedding night, but might as well do it here.”
To Elana’s surprise, the Saint began undressing, dropping one piece of clothing after another, revealing an admittedly impressive body. He posed, presenting himself with just his underwear remaining to cover his jewels.
“I will need to slaughter you all for seeing this,” Ashton admitted. “All, but maybe you. You do make my heart beat faster. And your beauty would be a perfect accessory to my handsomeness.”
“Yeah, no,” Elana replied faster than she had wanted. “I am taken.” She shook her head. “Creep.”
The last word had an unexpected impact on Ashton. He shook, suddenly looking ill before his face transformed to that of rage. “Creep? I see. I will kill you all after all.”
Elana prepared for a second round, hoping Moira would finally stop fooling around and do her job.
