Astensia's gauntlet closed around the Blessed Blade's hilt and she drew the sword in one clean stroke. The sound it made was like a choir's song.
"We must intervene now," she said.
Lancet agreed with that sentiment. "You're right. The Gloom is still thick over there, but if we fly above where Spectra and the Purgatory Demons are fighting, we'll face the Demon Commander and his forces head-on. We protect her."
Thor was already rolling her shoulders, arcs of blue-white electricity jumping between the plates of her armour. "Then there's no time to waste."
Lancet looked at her, and despite the chaos unfolding in the middle distance, he smiled. "You've come a long way from wanting to kill her. Spectra is a Demoness, you know."
Thor's eyes narrowed as she watched the distant figure of Spectra, still tearing through the last of the Purgatory Demons with savage, draining swings of her Hellstaff.
