The angel fixed Chihiro with a cold, accusing stare, then rose to her feet like a statue coming to life—wings unfurling slow and deliberate as faint, holy light shimmered off each feather. She kept her eyes locked on Chihiro, every line of her face tight with contempt.
"I don't have any idea how you pulled that off," the angel said, voice clipped and sharp. "But you've definitely done something very wrong. Well—considering you're a demon, I suppose that's par for the course." Her tone was clinical, almost bored, but the edge was there. "Hmm?"
Something in the air shifted. The angel's expression faltered as she registered it.
"Oh? Your aura—" she began, tilting her head, squinting as if trying to read invisible runes. "—it's different than before. I don't know what trick you used to power up all of a sudden, but don't get cocky. That won't be enough to beat me."
"How about this?" came a voice—sharp, sudden.
