Author's note: The next chapter will close this war. A bonus chapter today, as thanks for the 17k views!
The noon sun burned mercilessly over the devastated field.
The walls were broken, stones and torn banners scattered, and bodies piled like silent memories of war.
The dust rose in slow whirlwinds, carrying the metallic smell of blood and smoke.
Brianna advanced toward the bronze wall.
The wind made her torn cloak ripple behind her like a living shadow.
Her eyes, white and incandescent, reflected the intense light, tracing lines and circles of energy that seemed to pulse with life itself.
No emotion. No hesitation. Only cold calculation.
As she advanced among the ruins, the sounds of battle mixed with the silence created by her presence — each blade, each step, each scream was registered and processed.
Nothing escaped her attention. She moved like a predator among prey, silent, elegant and deadly. Ahead, the spiritualists held a defensive line near a fallen tower.
Their chants vibrated in an attempt to strengthen fragile seals, but their energy was unstable, desperate.
Brianna stopped. Inhaled slowly.
"Phasmatos… Arcanum Silentium," she whispered, almost inaudible.
From her fingers emerged lines of silvery light, winding through the air until touching the ground, forming filaments of energy that pulsed with ancestral power.
The air still vibrated when Brianna advanced, and the spiritualists stopped, confused, trying to react. But before they could reorganize any defense, she launched herself.
A quick and precise gesture, and the first fell, his body crushed by a wave of energy that exploded the defense he still tried to sustain.
The second tried to retreat, but a blade of silvery light cut through the air, hitting the throat with deadly precision.
The third raised his hands in supplication, but Brianna was already upon him, driving her elbow into his chest and throwing him backward.
Each of her movements was too fast for human eyes, a lethal choreography that left bodies scattered on the ground.
The nearby soldiers realized what was happening — and fear spread instantly.
They shouted orders, raised weapons and advanced, but Brianna didn't lose a moment.
She slid among the ruins, each step calculated, eyes fixed, pulsing with the energy of the light lines that still shimmered around.
And then, with the speed of a predator, she launched herself at the first soldier of the line.
He raised his spear, ready to attack, and in the next instant she was already climbing over the debris, driving her elbow into his neck.
A dry snap, and the body was thrown to the ground, inert.
Another tried to react, but Brianna spun, rolled on the ground and pushed him against a broken wall.
Each movement was fast, lethal, as if her own body reacted by itself, forgetting pain and fatigue.
The previous wounds burned, but didn't stop her — she moved with superhuman precision, a deadly choreography of strikes and dodges.
A third raised a sword. Brianna jumped, dodging the first attack and grabbed the blade with enough strength to twist it and throw it away.
In a continuous motion, she struck a quick blow on the side of the enemy's neck, knocking him down without a scream, before launching herself at the next.
Her body, marked by cuts and bruises, seemed to forget pain.
Every muscle vibrated with absolute control, every gesture charged with strength and precision. It was pure lethality — almost supernatural.
As she advanced through the corridor of stones and debris, the soldiers instinctively retreated, feeling the terror that emanated from her.
It was not only skill. It was presence.
Every step, every jump, every blow conveyed a clear message: no one would survive if they dared cross her path.
The soldiers began to shout, raised weapons and advanced against her immediately.
Some headed for the second wall, dodging the waves of destruction caused by the Count, while others turned, realizing the enemy that had arisen behind them.
Brianna noticed the encirclement closing around her. A cold smile appeared on her lips.
In an almost imperceptible movement, she turned on her heels and raised her hands.
"Phasmatos… Imperium Aegis," she whispered, with a calm and lethal voice.
The lines of silvery light that before pulsed around her fingers now expanded through her body, rippling like a living aura.
The energy seemed to detach from her, forming an invisible barrier that prevented any soldier from approaching.
Weapons collided against the invisible force and ricocheted, throwing sparks of light into the air.
Without wasting time, Brianna lifted her arms in a wide arc. The energy concentrated in the incandescent circles of her hands rose like a beam toward the sky.
The air around crackled, vibrating with ancestral power, and dark clouds began to form above the battlefield.
"Phasmatos… Caelum Obscura!" she ordered.
A silvery lightning tore the sky, illuminating every stone, every ruin and every soldier within reach.
The impact was followed by a wave of energy that knocked down the nearest enemies, as if the storm itself obeyed her will.
The rain began to fall, heavy, extinguishing the flames that still burned inside the marquisate and covering the corpses and wreckage with a veil of water.
Each drop reflected Brianna's silvery light, and the sound of the rain hitting the ground, the stones and the bodies echoed like a war drum.
The tide of soldiers was struck by the force and terror of her presence: advancing was impossible, retreating too dangerous.
Brianna kept a firm stance, eyes shining, body wrapped in filaments of light that danced to the rhythm of the storm she herself had summoned.
Every soldier who dared to approach would be met by a burst of energy, an invisible blade that cut the air with deadly precision.
The entire scenery seemed to bend to her will: the ruins, the rainwater and the fallen soldiers were mere instruments of her living and lethal presence.
Her incandescent eyes scanned each line of enemy soldiers, assessing every movement. Each of her steps was precise, calculated, almost supernatural.
A group advanced through the stone corridor, trying to get closer.
Brianna spun around herself, as if dancing, and the filaments of light that emerged from her hands extended into invisible cutting blades.
Soldiers were struck down before even getting close, their weapons torn from their hands or thrown away by waves of concentrated energy.
She jumped over a fallen column, leaned on it and drove her elbow into the chest of an approaching enemy, throwing him against the wreckage.
Another raised a sword; she spun, dodging, grabbing the blade with precision, twisting and throwing it meters away before landing a lethal blow on the next soldier's neck.
Each movement was fluid, deadly, and the rain seemed to heighten the drama of the spectacle — the light reflections danced on the soaked ground, turning the scene into a field of living energy.
The soldiers tried to regroup, but Brianna moved with superhuman speed, running through the ruined terrain, sliding, rolling and attacking as if she were in several places at once.
Each blow and each jump spread terror, and the enemy tide began to retreat, not only from physical force, but from the pure fear that emanated from her.
She raised her arms again, concentrating all the energy around.
A silvery lightning cut the sky, hitting the ground and exploding in a wave that knocked down the nearest soldiers, tearing them from the ground with the force of the storm she controlled.
The rain now fell heavier, extinguishing the last flames that still burned in the ruins.
Brianna remained in the center of the storm she had created, motionless for just an instant, observing.
Every drop of rain, every thread of light, every fallen soldier was proof of her absolute dominion over the place.
She was predator and storm at once, lethal and majestic.
And then, on the horizon, she felt the energy change. A shiver ran through the air — an ancient and brutal force was rising, breaking through the tide of soldiers.
The Count's presence made itself felt, and Brianna smiled slightly, eyes shining with the promise of confrontation.
Brianna advanced, leaving a trail of lightning across the ground, striking down any soldier who dared to approach.
Each wave of energy threw men to the ground, weapons exploding in sparks, debris spinning through the air.
The enemies retreated, swallowed by terror.
Then, she saw Karna, leaning against rubble, breathing with difficulty, and the Prince being lifted by the Count.
An involuntary tightening went through her chest, and for an instant, the world seemed to compress.
The air around trembled, obeying her will.
In an instant, stones, columns and fragments rose from the ground, spinning and cutting through the air before falling upon the Count and the Prince like a furious storm.
The impact swept everything around, throwing them several meters away.
Dust, newly formed rainwater and debris swallowed the sound of the explosion, leaving only the roar of the storm.
As the dust settled, Brianna ran to Karna, still protected by the filaments of light that rippled around her body, pulsing like life itself.
"Run to the walls," she said now, her voice firm, but charged with real concern. "I'll handle it from here."
The remaining soldiers, haunted, hesitated before the barrier of light and the storm she controlled.
Each of Brianna's steps was measured, charged with energy, emanating a silent threat.
She lifted her head and saw the Count and the Prince slowly recovering, both regaining their balance.
The Count's cold smile cut through the air, full of sarcasm.
"Impressive…" he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Destroying common men is easy. But against one who truly knows death?"
Each of his steps was calculated, firm, as if measuring each of Brianna's muscles, each reaction, each hesitation.
The air carried tension, and even under the heavy rain, the silence between them seemed to pulse, vibrate with expectation.
Brianna remained motionless, letting each second weigh over the field.
The drops of the storm ran down her cloak, the lines of light around her hands danced like serpents ready to strike, reflecting on the soaked rubble and the scattered bodies.
"Sorry…" her voice sounded calm, but sharp, charged with determination "but this war ends here."
She channeled energy into her hands, feeling each filament pulsing with increasing intensity, the air around compressing slightly, as if the storm itself awaited the final command.
The Count smiled again, and in an almost instant movement was already behind her, each step silent, each breath controlled.
Brianna felt the shift of energy — the danger, the approach, the imminent attack — and her body reacted even before thought.
Before she could move, the Prince launched himself, landing a precise kick that pushed the Count away with force.
The impact reverberated through the earth, lifting water and debris.
The Count regained balance with a sharp look, staring at the Prince.
Brianna, firm, stayed alert, observing every movement.
The heavy silence of the ruins was only the prelude to the chaos yet to come.