Seventy-Two: Endgame

“Bang!”

A white dragon’s tail, wrapped in gray Taint, swung like a meteor hammer through rain. Tumors and bone spurs made it a natural weapon. It smashed into Eve’s face. The black Demon took it head-on, her charge toward Lilith broken like a snapped bowstring.

Dazed, Eve tasted iron in the storm. Her long blade skittered in the wet, almost slipping from her fingers like a fish.

She clenched the hilt, knuckles pale as bone. Voids bloomed behind her like dark blossoms. The Demon gripped a small, dark-violet vortex. A blaze flowered in her palm. Before Lilith moved, Eve cast:

“Flame Ray.”

Scorching fire lanced from the violet vortex. Rays burst from the hovering Voids like shooting stars, all aimed at Lilith.

The Little White Dragon found herself locked by too many spells to dodge. She leveled her broad greatsword, wings flaring. Against the burning rain, she pushed toward Eve inch by inch, like a swan forcing through a gale.

Lilith gathered the last of her Star Energy. Frost skimmed her greatsword, a breath of winter hissing across steel. She cleaved Eve’s sea of fire, wings pounding. Then she shot forward like a cannon shell and hacked down before Eve.

“This—back to you!”

She carved a deep sword mark across Eve’s chest, as Eve once did to her. Only this time, there was no Holy Cloak to take the next blow.

Lilith locked both hands on the bone-forged, dark-red greatsword. She drove it forward. The keen edge slid through Eve’s belly like a hot blade through butter. The black Demon was pierced through.

The bone-carved tip punched out through Eve’s back. The Demon coughed blood; her long knife fell like a broken feather. Skewered, Eve hugged the greatsword and tried to wrench it free. It held fast, nailed in place like a cross.

Lilith kicked her hard, a thunderclap of impact. She wrenched the greatsword up and across. Eve’s body tore like wet paper before the blade. Flesh burst; crimson sprayed. Even the rain turned red in the air.

“It’s over. The next strike takes your life! Eve, meet your end!” Lilith raised her greatsword. She opened her wings. The Little White Dragon’s body drew into a taut bow; her sword became a razor-sharp arrow. Eve stood as the battered prey. One more shot, and the Demon’s life would be taken.

“Arrogant!” the black-haired Demon roared, wild as stormfire. “This won’t stop my stride!”

She lifted her hand. Five Voids flared behind her, like dark stars. Eve lowered her body, heedless as her wings and half a shin sank into the Voids. She didn’t notice, only stared at Lilith with fever-bright eyes and trembled with glee.

“I offer up my own flesh—mine, the great mine—to myself. I beg myself to grant me power to slay dragonkind.” Eve laughed, rapt as a worshiper. The Voids behind her flashed bright violet. The already broken Demon came apart further. Wings vanished into nothing. Her lower leg was hacked away. Blood sprayed like rain.

Her presence did not fade. Instead, it surged.

Eve’s body swelled like a storm-fed river. Blood streamed away, her frame riddled and torn by Lilith’s blows. Limbs were half carved off. A hole gaped in her gut, showing the world beyond. Yet her power climbed higher, step by step, like a rising tide.

Lilith knew this move. The Little White Dragon had seen it before—used it, once—to rip open a rift in the Other-Space and flee back to Morris.

Not this time. She would cut Eve’s last struggle head-on.

“Lilith! You can’t withstand me. There’s nowhere to run. You’ll die in my hand!” Eve howled, gathering every Void before her like a black stormfront. Mutilation and blood loss blurred her mind. Her words spun without sense. Lilith let silence answer and lifted her blade.

“Come—let me grant you a grand death!” Eve poured all her strength into the Voids. A crimson orb condensed, swelled, then—

It burst into flood-thick beams, a river crashing down toward Lilith.

“You’re the one who dies!” Lilith answered with a roar. She let her greatsword fall. Black phantoms rose around her like shadows at dusk.

A black swordsman. A shield-bearing captain of knights. A witch whose wisdom was vast. An archer whose sight was sharper than any.

Her companions from the road took form behind her. Lilith clenched her right hand.

She would end it with the first skill she learned as a dragon—and the last gift from that small blue figure who walked beside her for three years.

Lilith closed her eyes. The rushing red beams became distant thunder. She remembered the clash with the Red Dragon. Then she let instinct guide muscle and nerve—body moving where thought would only slow.

Taint coiled her right claw like black ivy. The Little White Dragon turned into a falling star, ripped apart Eve’s beams, and cut through the storm.

The black-haired Demon stared, empty, as her final counterattack was erased. The Little White Dragon pierced her chest with uncatchable speed and plucked her heart from the cage of bone.

“Demon-Dragon Claw.”

Lilith’s calm voice arrived like late rain, announcing the result.

The White Dragon claimed the fruit of victory.