>>6157014>>6157021>Critical Hit!>>6157017>Success!You feel that pull — the air folding around yourself, it’s like falling towards something, like your body is being pulled by invisible strings. Your heart beats against your chest as the world slows down, following the arc of your swing. It’s too high. Your sword will miss.
The other’s weapon, instead, grows closer and closer. Your instincts, honed by years of fighting with Master, tell you that you won’t be able to escape it.
It will strike you.
You wince, fear rising to choke your stomach, but you don’t stop. At this point, what happens is not up to you. And you heard Her voice, when you decided to do so.
That voice that told you — <span class="mu-s">Silla, ane ga.</span>. Like that time in the Well, the words carry a meaning past their sound.
The summoned knight’s weapon glances against your armour as you keep pushing, following Her voice. Her command.
<span class="mu-s">Pierce.</span>
And then the pulling sensation snaps.
With a scream, you push through it, like striking a pane of glass with a maul — it shatters in a thousand fragments, like those mirrors in the Well.
She has spoken.
And Her word is truth.
Your sword, its hungry white keen, eats through the metallic armour, piercing its shimmering bulk. A spiderweb of cracks glints through its form, breaking it, shattering it. It creaks like a twisted branch and it falls to the obsidian ground, its pieces skittering about, raising echoes of a crashing note, losing itself in flute-like noises, ephemeral and caught by the wind.
[cont.]
