With the female Devil finding it hard to resist the pressure, Selvira didn't hesitate. She moved with a speed and force almost impossible to replicate for a Domain Forging Cultivator. In mere seconds, from activation to execution, she appeared in front of the Devil.
SHK!
SHK!
SHK!
SHK!
A barrage of sword strikes rained down on the Devil from all angles. With each connection, Selvira felt her battle prowess steadily rising. With the final blow, the Devil was sent flying, crashing into the warships as her black blood sprayed across the void.
"Sh-shit! I can't keep going on like th—" The Devil's words were cut short as she recovered herself.
BOOOOM!
Appearing high above the warship, Selvira unleashed a massive sword arc that cleaved through the ship and everything on it.
The Female Devil was the only one left, but her condition was far from good. She was on her last legs... quite literal
Standing—no, floating—motionless in the void, the female Devil lacked any sense of consciousness. Her current state was one of absolute pity. Both of her arms were gone, her hair was a tangled mess, and she had only one leg left.
This was the price of underestimating someone like Selvira... a dominator.
When Selvira fought, it wasn't just about the battle. No, she fought to dominate from start to finish.
Seeing the Devil in such a state, Selvira's eyes flashed with cold determination before she moved in to finish the job.
And just like that, in mere minutes, Selvira dispatched her opponent. Her gaze swept across the battlefield, landing on Ary, who was beating her opponent into a pulp. Her precision and balance were far beyond those of others at her rank.
Then, her eyes shifted to the youngest princess, Nyssari Neryu, one of the most talented of the Neyru.
Nyssari Neyru was the youngest of the family—well, that was before Ash, of course. At just 120 years old, she stood in the same realm as her older siblings. This alone was a testament to her extraordinary talent. The third princess was different from her two sisters. While Ary focused on balance and precision, and Selvira on dominance and relentlessness, Nyssari's philosophy was simpler—but no less deadly.
She focused on one thing.
Killing.
It was blunt, savage, and primal—but it was the heart of wielding a sword. To most, swords were tools of destruction, instruments of slaughter. But to Nyssari, that was where they were wrong. She didn't see her sword as a weapon. No. She was the weapon. The blade wasn't her tool; it was an extension of her, a part of her very being.
With a playful grin on her lips, she eyed her opponent—a male devil with a burly build. The two had just clashed for the first time, and it was clear who held the upper hand.
To Nyssari, it didn't even look like she'd broken a sweat. Her opponent, on the other hand, was covered in cuts—head to toe, literally. His blood dripped, staining the void around them.
"Heh. I truly wonder what made you think attacking us was a good idea. I mean, just look at you," Nyssari taunted, her voice dripping with mockery.
The Devil growled, his fury evident.
"Don't regret your—"
WHOOSH!
SHK!
BOOM!
Nyssari's blade sliced through the air with surgical precision, cutting the Devil's words short. She appeared behind him in the blink of an eye, her movement fluid and effortless. The sword arc she unleashed sent him flying into a mass of debris, the force of the strike throwing him into the cold void.
"Shhh," Nyssari murmured, her tone almost playful. "I didn't ask you to waste my time with useless words."