"You were aware of how this...thing was made."
It wasn't a question, more a statement than anything else. But still nonetheless spoke of a dark promise if the answer he received wasn't to his liking.
"Yes."
Just that simple word was enough to thoroughly undo the patchwork job a series of bright green magical circles pulsating a healing stream into her body. Even as trickles of blood was coughed out, she made sure her answer was heard. After all, with the power this monster showed, it put those previously boastful words in a new light.
"Oh? Really?" Iori quirked a brow as he looked down at the pitiful being, the same expression a haughty child had when a worm was beneath their boot spread across his face. "I think not. At least not completely, if you're really not as foolish as you made me believe."
Another insult struck out with casual disdain, a blow meant to further unravel her pride to being talked down to like a child. But what could she do? That single palm strike was already enough to know she was not his match in any world. He had shown himself to be too strong, too perceptive and much too fast for her. Hell, even if Grayfia were to throw herself at him in a final desperate, suicidal attack she didn't believe it would amount to anything other than the complete annihilation of Devil-kind. If survival meant being insulted, then so be it.
"Back in the day, this was called Saigo no Sashi Kizu or better known as The Final Sting." It seemed like the monster's lecture mode was activated, not that she would complain. The longer he waited, the more time she would have to heal up her injuries to an acceptable degree. "At least this is a variant anyway. The process to produce such a needle is the widdled down Distal Phalanges of a woman who recently miscarried. They say the anguish she must feel is the primary power-source for it's otherworldly abilities. And after treating the newly made needle in a bath of elixirs with some form of genetic material of the target, like hair, finger nails or blood, one must place it in a box until it is absolutely needed. Now you have a needle capable of pointing you in the direction of your target's location forever."
"A technique looked down for it's cruelty, but it was still commonly used by both Orthodox and Unorthodox Sects. The real problems stem from this next part. Tracking was fine but actually dosing the needle in poison was where things went too far even for those two-faced bastards. As you can see," Iori moved the needle slowly in every direction possible and even under the high sun, she could see the needle wriggled in place as it tried to rip itself out of his grip and pierce him. "The needle doesn't stop. So it's a perfect assassination tool for the weak….But it's the poison I'm asking about."
"Distilled Malice is a special ingredient made out of Corpse Ki. In the final moments of a living being, it would always release a flood of Ki holding everything that it experienced in death. Meaning, by making their death as torturous as possible the potency of Corpse Ki would grow. A common tactic for corpse diddlers to create high leveled Undead Puppets. And from this needle, I can 'smell' thousands… If not tens of thousands differing Ki signatures here. All human in fact."
Grayfia only further kept her mouth shut, the silence acting as a clearer answer than words ever could. There was nothing she could say now, having already admitted to being aware of the method to produce that hidden weapon. It wouldn't mean anything for the man to outright kill her here and now. Sure it might spark a war but that was probably something this monster in human skin would relish.
"And with you people having destroyed a majority of the records from the Ancient Era, I can only assume it was my sixth disciple who produce such a thing? Ange always seemed like the corpse diddler type. Don't know where I went wrong with that boy. Maybe not letting him die with his family was a mistake on my part…"
"With that said, I already had my fun." He shrugged and instantly, it was like a mountain was sitting on her chest trying it's best to turn her into nothing more than paste on the ground. The searing hot sensation of her ribs breaking accompanied the snapping sounds echoing through the clearing. All her muscles gave out at once and she just flopped to the ground with sweat pooling down her face, body no longer obeying her orders to move. "Goodbye 'Strongest Queen'."
"Wait." The Devil tried to make her words heard but only a mere whisper came, lungs already beginning to compress despite the rapidly spinning arcane circles working overtime to resist the pressure the best they could. But with the man's senses, he was sure to hear it...Right?
His face still looking innocent, the pressure didn't let up in the slightest. If she had time, she would've been cursing at his shamelessness that hadn't changed in the slightest over the centuries. Death's specter was slowly creeping her way, it's sweet song chipping away at the tempered steel that was her willpower. Grayfia couldn't give up, she knew if things were left the way they were now, this m-no natural disaster would make Devils nothing more than fiction. Their burial grounds would act as his grand entrance back into the world stage and with his brutality, he would cow the other powers in one swift motion.
Iori Yamato would slaughter them all. Every man, woman and child. The sick, old and young. The strong and the weak. The poor and the rich. None of them would safe. Not even her child.
Her sweet, innocent child. Millicas wasn't even a teenager yet. His large, beautiful red eyes still had that naivety untouched by the poisonous world that was politics. He hadn't even had the chance to fall in love yet! If she couldn't find the strength to resist for her kind, then she sure as hell could for her child!
And so with bones visibly breaking, streams of flickering energy churned deep inside her body. Twisting curling, the mass slowly but surely formed a densely packed small magical circle, no larger than a hand, popped into existence right before her. Instead of some final attack to spit futility in this monster's eye, the air warped and a single object came tumbling out. It was a small plaque made of what looked to be simple wood, with a leather strand hanging from the top, the surface etched with a simple string of kanji.
Instantly the pressure vanished just as the plaque hit her chest, lungs expanding suddenly to take in that glorious air. That fog around her thoughts began to fade as she gobbled up everything possible, that giant finally raising it's foot off her neck. There was no feeling of relief that such a thing should've caused, instead only that sensation of loss filled her.
It seems 'that' man was right after all…