Chapter 206: Tragic Injuries
“BOOM—!!”
The shockwave from the impact swept out like an invisible ripple.
In the blink of an eye, the violent clash ended.
Wilbur staggered back a few meters, his boots plowing two deep furrows into the floor.
The Scarred Woman, however, was flung backward like a ragdoll.
“CRASH!”
She smashed through a massive glass display window on the second floor. Countless crystal shards danced in the air, refracting the dim light.
Immediately after,
“THUD!”
She slammed into the thick load-bearing wall behind her. The impact shook the whole structure, raining down dust.
Wilbur didn’t pursue.
He lowered his head, his gaze fixed on his left hand—the one covered in that grotesque carapace.
His cold eyes widened in shock.
On his clenched fist, a deep gouge had appeared.
The sword wound was… ghastly.
The iron-hard pus-armor, capable of deflecting shrapnel, had been sliced open like cheap leather.
The skin and fascia beneath were pierced.
Even deeper, the finger bones and metacarpals were cleaved open, the cut running all the way to his wrist.
In other words…
That single strike had nearly sliced his palm in half!
Just a hair more, and half his hand would have been gone!
How could a sword have that much power?!
Was she really just a Second-Rank?!
How is that possible?!
..................
On the other side of the second floor.
Amidst the ruins, glass shards were scattered everywhere.
Pandora moved with difficulty.
She had taken the punch, bolstered by Elsa’s power. It was all she could do to hold her ground.
It was bad. Tragic, even.
In her hand, the scarlet greatsword—Elsa’s true body—now bore a deep, alarming crack.
Though it was a “living” weapon that could heal itself, it meant Elsa had taken a massive hit, a world of pain.
But even more tragic than the sword was Pandora herself.
Her chest, just left of her heart, was caved in.
Her ribs had snapped. Her sternum was crushed under a force that exceeded her limits. Though her clothes and skin hid the worst of it, the reality was a disaster.
The terrifying shockwave had traveled through the sword and her arms into her whole body. The bones in both arms were severely fractured.
If you could see inside her, you’d find a skeleton covered in hairline cracks, like shattered porcelain.
Furthermore,
the impact of smashing through the glass and into the wall had done secondary damage.
Sharp shards of glass had pierced her skin, embedding deep in her flesh.
Bright red, shocking wounds covered her small body, making her look like a broken, blood-soaked doll.
“Cough...”
Pandora leaned against the wall, pushing herself up inch by inch.
Every movement brought a pain that threatened to tear her consciousness apart.
She assessed her body and sighed.
The power of the Third Rank was not to be underestimated. The gap between ranks was massive. Fundamental.
Even before merging with Elsa, she was a top-tier Second-Rank. After, she was nearly unstoppable.
But…
facing a Third-Rank…
Even Wilbur, a new Third-Rank weakened by old injuries…
was still on another level.
His power was greater than she’d predicted.
Or maybe she’d overestimated herself.
However,
though her injuries looked tragic, as if she could die at any moment…
as the one who was hurt, Pandora knew the damage wasn’t as bad as it looked.
Her heart beat steady and strong.
Her vital organs, though rattled by the shockwave, hadn’t taken fatal, irreparable damage.
Her sternum and ribs were shattered. Her arms were useless for fighting…
But she had…
resisted an attack that would have instantly killed a normal Second-Rank.
The weakness from massive trauma and blood loss never came.
Quite the opposite.
Pandora was surprised to feel that as the pain intensified, a power deep in her bloodline, something ancient, stirred.
It was a gentle but potent force, carrying an arcane aura. It pulsed from her heart, flowing rapidly through her veins to every corner of her body.
Instead of feeling weak, her mind felt sharper than ever.
That power had already spread through her.
It was like a team of combat engineers getting to work.
They contained the wounds that looked terrible but hadn’t hit her core.
Only the faint, wet sounds of “squelch” could be heard.
Her muscles twitched, squeezing glass shards from the wounds. They clattered to the floor one by one.
Immediately after, muscle fibers writhed and squirmed like countless tiny tentacles, weaving themselves back together.
The bleeding wounds sealed, scabbing over at a visible speed.
Even some of the blood she’d just lost was reabsorbed, her body, with the ancient Witch’s bloodline, drinking it back in like a sponge.
If Wilbur could have seen this, he would have gone mad with jealousy.
Even a Third-Rank Corpse-Plague Acolyte like him couldn’t heal that fast. That clean.