Rachamah saw herself staring down the castle, it strangely enough felt as though she was being given the princess treatment. There was no fighting at first, just sitting back and watching as the cannons laid waste to the alraune unfortunate enough to be pinned out in the open.
The fighting had only truly begun once the castle walls came into range. It was then that some of them murmured, "Hey… why did the commander order an attack from here? The cannons don't really have much of a target-"
Rachamah picks out a cannonball, yet she doesn't seem all to happy either. Arata… The whole plan for this part just amounts to figuring it out yourself? Jerk.
To vent out the frustration of having no wall breaching plan, Rachamah begins to pelt at the walls with cannonballs. One by one, they carve their way into the frame, penetrating deeper through the first layer. From there, it was one more good through and the building would be breached.
Rachamah's cannonball barrels through the air into the much thinner, brittle interior walls and their glass windows. It all shatters as Rachamah lets out a command.
"Alright, he hasn't shown his face yet but I don't wanna go inside, we're going to keep shooting until his position is revealed or he comes out himself."
The castle's throne room was in the back. We came in from the… the-
Rachamah shapes her two hands into Ls, peering down at them.
"Alright, tilt the cannons to the right, blast through those walls until we see the throne room! Once we see them, you guys retreat."
Soon, the final wall is opened up, a vile air wafts over the men. They shake in fear, some of them vomit, whispering groans of deceased elves murmur across the castle, all wailing in a cacophony reflexive of theErlking's madness.
The elf cackles, "Oh! Arata, how long has my curiosity of thy presence remain unsated!"
Rachamah approaches, Magurokiri drawn in anticipation of an attack. Meanwhile, theErlking's face is painted over by a new, disappointed color.
"Who the fuck are you-"
His polymer adjacent skin contorts into the shape of a smile, "You're the one who made poor Beel look so sorry. Oh, how funny it is, the most Arata can do to face me is send a kid in his stead. It might be even funnier with how that is optimal, wouldn't you concur?"
Instead of a response, Rachamah slings a cannonball right between his eyes.
A hand of the dead rises from the ground, saber in hand it cleaves the sphere in two.
An inversion of elven will. They lost their pride in being homogenized into the Erlking's regalia. No wonder he's lonely when being with him is considered abandoning your pride according to the soul.
Will he be degrading to eat? Rachamah leaps at the Erlking, Magurokiri swings down against the Erlking's regalia.
The two foes are left in the bind, yet creepy hands attempt to crawl up Rachamah's legs, she is quickly held down for a spear to impale her. Yet before it can even be seen, Rachamah's feet leave the ground.
Soaring serpent acceleration, thrust. *A gust of wind shoots Rachamah upwards, inversely, a crushing force downwards destroys theErlking's hands.
The Erlking seems puzzled, "What is it? A sixth sense."
It was met by silence, a silence that really started to piss the Erlking off. From someone who loves a good banter, he had to fight a girl who would never waste effort on words.
Much less did she want to give away anything.
The Erlking's nothing like Beelzebub, he prioritizes defense. Maybe its form is more brittle. I revealed one of the four souls… this amounts to a battle of information, yet I have a head start.
Rachamah wasn't here to rely on reflexes against an opponent like the Erlking. Especially not when the subtle tilt of the elf's eyes told her everything.
Rachamah finds herself high in the air, almost reaching the ceiling and ready to come back down.
He's anticipating catching me when I land. Rachamah raises her sword, hooking it between the chandelier above to hold on. It begins to swing like a pendulum as Rachamah climbs on top.
Winged sea serpent soul, Kraken soul, gargoyle soul and sacred camel soul. The camel's soul has most of its stored fat. Rachamah is hesitant to waste most of her power. First, she needed to see proof that the Erlking could die by such means.
The Erlking himself is stalemated, not yet because he's powerless, but rather because he's far too pissed to think straight.
Soon, the corpses of elven knights begin to rise from the ground, others lower from the ceiling, from the hands of those spawn the legs of another piece of the regalia. The inverted pillar of the dead reaches Rachamah first, Rachamah leaping from the chandelier fires a pressured arrow of water, past the hundreds of hands into the ceiling above.
The structure collapsed, something strange happened, "Gaaaah fuck!!!"
The Erlking's right foot was skewered, the flying fish's rotational acceleration spinning the stream of water right back towards the Erlking.
The foot's shameful red gore was exposed to Rachamah's eyes, sure the Erlking had some capacity to regenerate the wound but it was pitiful. It merely allowed him to walk on it.
The Erlking could die, that was the only good news. Rachamah made a severe mistake, she didn't want to risk defeat on a gamble of how much damage he would take despite her inferences.
She could've ended the fight, just like against Beelzebub, there was a recurring weakness. Once she failed the initial kill on Beelzebub, that one weakness was patched, allowing him to escape.
The Erlking had acquired fear, not only Rachamah, the Erlking too learned he could die.
Being a hunter, Rachamah knew the issue. For beasts, once they felt fear, they would follow a path based on instinct. Yet more advanced consciousness acted on fear with anticipation and rationality.
Rachamah threw away her chance when she still knew most variables. She would now begin to fight with uncertainties: how would the Erlking adapt to fear?
The second Rachamah landed, seven swords from each direction came out of the ground at her. Seven became fourteen, fourteen became twenty-eight.
Not enough space to dodge, too many angles to block. Ten percent fat, muscle enhancement.
Rachamah's body began letting off steam and sweat with Pestle in one hand and Magurokiri in the other. Covering both her sides, she swung.
*Crash*