SLASH!
Amelia's blade cut through Cheryl's back. A bone-deep gash appeared as liters of blood sprayed from it.
The blade had been coated in Ashe, that of a professional assassin. She had been ready to deal a fatal blow.
"Arrrghhhh!" Cheryl screamed, stumbling forward.
Amelia's energy rampaged in her, damaging her internal organs and spiritual veins.
She planted her foot on the floor, stopping herself from falling. She spun, attempting to localize the threat.
But Amelia was already gone. She reformed five feet away, quietly observing Cheryl.
Cheryl's breath came ragged. Blood dripped like a fountain from her back, her spine visible.
Things are bad. What to do? she thought, her teeth gritted, her breath shallow.
I cannot win, not like this.
Her vision blurred, but she struggled. Her eyelids could not shut. She had to know their situation.
She threw a glance at Bol. Maybe she would not have to do it if he could manage.
But her heart trembled after looking at them.
...
