Chapter 72: Is there an abyss in the abyss ? - 7
Nyxsha slammed into the angel from the side with enough force to collapse a hill, her massive claws digging deep into its twisted wing, tearing through pustules and tendrils with a wet, ripping sound.
The angel grunted—the first sign of pain—its divine eye widening.
"You won’t touch him, he is mine," Nyxsha snarled, her massive form heaving, blood streaming from her back, her violet flames flaring defiantly despite the mist’s hunger.
Then—a spear of dark mist exploded from the angel’s chest, piercing straight through Nyxsha’s shoulder with a sickening crunch, black radiance spilling like ink.
"NYXSHA!" Azareel screamed, his voice raw, his silver eyes wide with horror as she staggered, her massive form trembling.
Virelya moved, her remaining heads striking with venomous fury, tendrils lashing to bind the angel’s limbs.
Sylvara raged, her thorned branches surging upward, flowers blooming with screaming faces that released clouds of crimson pollen, burning through the mist.
The battlefield became a blur of monstrous limbs, black tendrils, shattered earth, and roaring pain, the women fighting with a ferocity born of love and desperation.
But the mist thickened, moving with a will of its own, swallowing every flower Sylvara bloomed, every scent Virelya chased leading to ghosts, every swipe Nyxsha struck landing on air or met with punishing counterstrikes.
They were strong, monsters forged in the Abyss’s crucible, but the angel was something worse—an echo of divine failure, twisted by centuries of abandonment, its light corrupted into a weapon of despair.
By the end of the battle’s first wave, Nyxsha was bleeding heavily, one leg trembling, her violet flames dimming.
Virelya’s hydra heads numbered four, her coils slick with blood and venom.