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Erin almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Of all things, of all enemies, it would have to be the Aerysians. Of all time, it had to be now. She began to contemplate on their objective. Why were they here? If it’s for Aedan, then how did they know? Was someone secretly tailing them and giving away their whereabouts to everyone that might have quarrels with them? Erin didn’t know. As always, there were too many questions but no answers.

“This is curious,” Marc mused. “I assumed it was your reinforcement but going by your expression, it is not. A different faction but of the same motif. Who could they be?”

“Another hassle,” Erin said and lunged at Marc like a snake ambushing its prey.

Marc swayed to the side and Erin’s sword cut apart the empty air. The sharp ring left in its wake gave Marc a shudder. It had been quite some time since he last felt such uncertainty. His ability to bend reality was a power that far too few could oppose. Even then, not once had he faced such a threat to his life after becoming the Apostle of Pride. He had met the other Apostles of Nyx and not one of them was his match. He thought he was the strongest Apostle among the seven. Evidently, he was not. No one was, he realised.

Erin put the Aerysians in the back of her mind and focused on defeating Marc first. She wagered there was still a few minutes before the Dragon arrived. Within this period, she would need to deal with Marc. The ability to twist reality to his wishes was nothing against her Mystic Blade. But that wasn’t to say her victory was assured. It only became a possibility.

Marc leapt back as the greatsword split apart and rippled the air in front of him. The shockwave touched him lightly and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Even if it didn’t cut him, it was horrifying enough to imagine it. The power to cut anything, even of things without a corporeal form, was a power he never expected anyone to have. Knowing Nyx, he wouldn’t put it behind him that she chose Erin because of this ability.

Erin was on the offensive. With every swing or cut, Marc would back away a few steps. Before he knew it, Erin was constantly advancing and he was constantly retreating away from her blade.

As the two battled, the zealots watched, both the Rust and the Skinwalkers. They had been fighting one another but they stopped when they saw the two clashing. Not because they were awed but because they were cautious. They feared they would be caught as accidental collateral in their clashes. There were a few Rust zealots who tried to get the drop on Erin but she cut them down without giving them so much as a glance as if she was just unconsciously reacting to their hostile intent.

Marc was also unforgiving to those that tried to be optimistic but he went a step further. He crushed even those that didn’t block his path. They were his victims as long as they trod too close to him, be it the Rust or the Skinwalkers.

“Marc, what are you doing?” one of the Rust zealots shouted in a panic as he witnessed his peers being ripped apart by an unseen force.

Marc ignored the alarmed question. His focus was devoted to Erin. A single lapse of judgement would cost him his life. What was even more precarious was Erin’s ever-increasing ferocity. He planned to wait for her to exhaust herself but he had underestimated the Apostle of Lust. The Aspect of Lust wasn’t just the carnal aspect but also the lust for battle.

Erin took a peak at her stats and was surprised to learn that they had more than tripled, an amount that she didn’t think was possible. Strangely enough, she still retained much of her sanity, though she could feel it slipping as the battle went on.

“Don’t force my hand,” Marc warned as he dodged a cut that threatened to lop his head off.

“You have already forced mine,” Erin retorted. “You only need to return Aedan back to me and all will be forgiven. But no, you chose violence.”

“He will be returned after the seal is undone. Stop this.”

Erin snorted. “Then I’ll stop after I cut you in half. How about that?”

“You are as uncouth as I heard and twice as unreasonable.”

“I have been reasonable. I only wished for me and my companions to be left alone. Sadly, that seems to be too much to ask for. Your hand isn’t the only one being forced. It is mine.”

Marc tittered, as sinisterly as the smile he made. “I stay my hand for the sake of our bonds as brother and sister of the same faith. Now, you shall reap what you sow. You will suffer for your impertinence.”

“I sure haven’t heard that before.”

“I can see the rumours aren’t being exaggerated about your… barbed tongue. So be it, dear sister.” Marc raised his hand and pointed straight at Erin. “Pain,” he uttered.

A torrent of agony suddenly assaulted Erin from seemingly nowhere. She screamed and fell to her knees, curling into her belly as the pain spread and intensified.

The onlookers all gasped in shock. Terror wrought their faces. They couldn’t comprehend what just happened but they knew who made it happen. They turned to Marc. The Skinwalkers paled in horror while the Rust had smiles of relief. For the latter, many still believed Marc to be on their side even though they just witnessed him slaughtering their own allies.

“Kill her,” Marc ordered.

The Rust zealots looked at one another, each waiting for the other to respond.

“Kill her now or you will be the one to suffer.”

Though they were still unsure, they didn’t wish to suffer Marc’s wrath. They steeled their nerves and slowly approached the writhing Erin. The closer they got to Erin, the slower they were.

“Off with it!” Marc shouted.

Stirred by the prospect of being cursed with some inconceivable agony, the zealots quickened their movements. They readied their weapons as they got within a few feet of Erin. As they raised their weapon, Erin stopped writhing. The zealots stopped too.

Suddenly, violet mist exploded radially with Erin as the epicentre.

Marc immediately leapt away from the mist but the others weren’t so fortunate. The mist spread and enveloped all those who were too slow. They shuddered for a while before going limp and their faces turning blank.

“You’re quick,” Erin grumbled as she slowly rose to her feet.

“You were faking it?”

“Not entirely. It did hurt like a bitch but… pain is an old friend.” After all, one does not obtain the title of Sword Saint so easily, especially without suffering a lot. She briefly reminisced about the past where she trained until every inch of her body broke down. Honing her swordsmanship was not a relaxing journey. “Now, my turn.”

“Your turn?”

Erin grinned and pointed at Marc with her sword. “Kill him,” she commanded.

“At once, my lady!!” shouted all the ones who were engulfed by the violet mist she emanated. “For Lady Erynthea!!”

It wasn’t just the men but the women too. The females were also shouting and cheering fervently for Lady Erynthea.

Marc was shocked but he knew he shouldn’t be. The previous Apostle of Lust could do something like this too. Since he didn’t see or hear Erin ever using this ability, he assumed she couldn’t. But now, it was clear that she simply chose not to use it, probably due to her honour as a swordswoman.

The effect of a Sin ability would corrode one’s mind with the depravity of the corresponding Sin. The intensity only increases with the number of usage. However, the corrosion was limited by one’s body and physique. The user could die from overusing their Divine Gift, or worse. Erin looked frail. Marc anticipated that she would quickly reach her limit but she only ended up surprising him more and more.

“Outworlders sure are different,” Marc muttered as the zealots charged at him. With a wave of his hand, more than half of them were turned into pulps of flesh. Normally, that would deter anyone, or at least make anyone hesitate to proceed. However, not the ones who were affected by Lust.

“Don’t fear! The disappointment of Lady Erynthea is even worse. For Lady Erynthea!!” someone shouted at the top of his lungs.

“For Lady Erynthea!” The zealots cheered and continued in their charge.

“Damn it!” Marc cursed under his breath. He was reminded of his dislike for the previous Apostle of Lust. She had only been a simple maiden, a daughter of a merchant when she was anointed as Nyx’s Apostle. From then on, she quickly devolved into a harlot. After taking over her father’s business, she led an army of men who were all blindly loyal to her. Unfortunately for her, she was eventually assassinated by a rival business due to her arrogance and recklessness. Still, her control over an army of men who would die for her without an ounce of hesitation was something that still shook him.

The zealots cried and cheered as they swarmed Marc from all sides. Even after seeing the others dying a gruesome death, they were not deterred. If anything, it only further motivated them as there would be less competition for Erynthea’s favour. This was all of the zealots’ current mindsets. Even after losing an arm or a leg, or both, they persisted in their killing attempt.

Witnessing the zealot’s fearless and careless fervour, Erin felt nothing. The safety of Aedan was all that reigned in her head. She wanted to see Marc dead but Aedan’s wellbeing came first. Seeing Marc was occupied with the zealots, Erin rushed towards the hill.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Marc rolled as she appeared in front of Erin, blocking her advance. “You have made a fool out of me. You sicced those bastards on me as if I'm a lowly prey of mongrels.”

Erin glanced to her side and saw a scatter of wretched corpses.

“You are nothing but a greenhorn,” Marc growled. “I am your elder. Your superior! And you dare to make a fool out of me with your cheap and cowardly tricks!?”

“Then, just rod and die, dear elder,” Erin spat.

“Die!!” Marc bellowed with a finger pointed straight at Erin as if intending to instil death upon her

It would have done just that if Erin didn’t roll out of the way. The patch of grass where she had been standing withered in an instant. Erin rushed at Marc without a moment to lose.

“Away!” Marc snarled.

An invisible force struck Erin and sent her flying away. She employed Arcane Aegis as her foothold to stop herself from being thrown too far. Kicking off the same foothold, she launched herself towards Marc.

“Disappear!” Marc yelled.

Erin changed her course by using Lightning Rush. She veered away from the area where the piece of reality was being altered.

“Perished!”

Erin coiled around the effect. The brief glance of the ground crumbling into nothing gave her the shivers.

“Die!” Marc shouted with bloodshot eyes.

Erin couldn’t see “death” coming, but she could feel it. The moment her Sixth Sense blared the loudest, she swung her sword. The air seemed to ripply in front of her and something inexplicable appeared to fall apart and dissipate into nothing.

Impossible, Marc wanted to scream but the words that came out were different. “I won’t lose! Not to you! I will not lose!” Marc bawled as Erin’s blade closed in on his neck—

— and the blade bounced right off Marc’s neck.

Marc chortled. “Do you see that!? Do you realise how futile it is!? I am the strongest Apostle of Nyx! You cannot kill me!” Marc bellowed, glaring at Erin with all the indignation he had accumulated till this point. “I am better than you! I can’t be killed! I will never lose to you!”

Erin came at him again, unperturbed by all of Marc’s words. She dispelled her greatsword and brandished a different sword, one that was wrapped in a piece of cloth. The cloth flew off as she swung the sword down at Marc.

“You cannot win against me as long as I will. You cannot—”

And then came the sudden silence from Marc. The feeling of something warm and wet trickling down his neck was the last thing he felt as his world suddenly overturned and darkened. His head had fallen off of his neck—

—and the very same thing happened to Erin. Her head also slid off of her body and rolled to the ground.