What was the essence of combat? It was a strange question her former master had asked her back in the days when they were training in the abandoned church.

  It wasn't a question her master had expected her to answer, nor did she have the conscience to think of one of her own. But now, as her soul screamed in agony and her blood spilled like dust, she couldn't help but remember the words that shadow had repeated like a mantra.

  'The essence of all combat... is to sy your enemy.'

  A very apt answer, in her opinion, but one that didn't reflect her own perspective, nor that of any of the Children of Nether.

  To her, combat was just another tool. A means to an end. Not a form of enjoyment, not something to be abhorred or admired. Even if your goal was to survive or defeat your enemy, this was the way to achieve that outcome. That's why her own combat style was based on perfect movements with an emphasis on defense. Her focus wasn't on the battle itself, but on the objective for which the fight had begun.

  So, for her, the essence of combat y in fulfilling her mission, her objective, her purpose... whether it meant the death of her enemy or her own.

  She wondered, absentmindedly, how her master would have reacted to her idea. Perhaps he would steal it as his new favorite phrase, or perhaps he would dismiss it without understanding her thinking. Either way, she would have liked to see his reaction.

  A strong impact cut short her thoughts, as pieces of her visor flew off with sparks. She staggered, momentarily unbanced by the impact, but her enemy didn't back down.

  With morbid glee, the creature sshed through the air with its cws, trying to tear out her left eye. But her impatience cost her dearly. Summoning a stiletto from the darkness, Saint drove the sharp point of the weapon right into the elbow joint. The improvised weapon broke instantly, but the impact severely damaged the limb.

  But the creature's drive did not subside. With madness and rage overflowing, the demon put all its strength into smming the weapon into its bone armor. The result was devastating. The snowstorm that rose above them receded for an instant as the ground shattered.

  Saint shot forward like a cannonball. Her mind, always calm, worked furiously to recompose her body to counterattack, but her movements were painfully slow. The pain, even when ignored, slowed her actions and even her thoughts.

  The ice spirit approached like the cold breath of death, and not for the first time, the vague thought of her own end crossed her mind.

  NO

  As swiftly as ever, all doubt was crushed with will. The wisps of darkness and shadows swirled around her, colliding violently with the snowfkes falling on the cracked ground.

  The creature shot toward her, raising a bone spike that emerged from its own body. The movement was swift, filled with primal energy, but Saint would not stay still. Spinning on the ground, Saint moved aside only to flex her legs and leap to bring down her assaint.

  If she couldn't kill this creature with sheer strength, she would use her wits; if she couldn't win with her mind, she would use her will; and if she couldn't trust anything she had, then she would trust her allies…

  An untainted will rose over the battlefield as Saint's eyes bzed with anger. Forcing her trembling legs forward, she stepped forward to reach the creature, downed by the ankles. A spark of mockery flickered in those eyes.

  No matter how strong you were, as long as you were a mortal, you were still subject to the ws of the world you inhabited. Meaning that if you were careless enough to allow someone to grab your feet, you were as helpless against gravity as any other mundane creature.

  Saint's gloves burst from the force of the grip, a moment before the creature spun in an arc straight into the ground, away from her. The frozen earth shattered, but well, that blow could have been more of a spectacle. This was a corrupted demon; such wounds were nothing more than an annoyance. Extra motivation for the being to seek to kill her even more diligently. But that was fine; she needed him to focus on her and only her.

  The demon rose unharmed, wearing a grimace of both seething rage and uncontained mockery. This being of corruption despised her; he didn't see her as a threat, and with good reason. She was tired, so tired. She felt her eyes struggle for the first time in millennia, searching for the dreaded sleep.

  She didn't sleep, didn't need it, found it neither pleasurable nor efficient. But she had once slept, twice, actually. When her fme was forged in the Nether workshop and when corruption took possession of her soul.

  Both memories were so contrasting, one marked by security and longing, and the other tainted by shame and fear.

  Now that such a sensation was repeated, she couldn't help but feel her body tremble. But that was okay; it was a weakness, an anomaly in her being. But she wasn't perfect, and on this path of imperfection, those differences would be her greatest source of strength. For the desire to live with such limitations and overcome them gave her one more reason to grow differently from her siblings.

  The demon looked at her for a long moment, reveling in her fear. It was a nightmarish creature, one not so special or powerful, but one that was endowed with greater intelligence than others. A trait that allowed it to thrive and survive even in a nd of demons. But it was also that trait that allowed it to be deceived.

  Right behind her, hidden among the remains of broken stone, a shadow had been waiting since her mistress had freed her in her first fall. This shadow wasn't as strong or as resentful as any of her kind, so she couldn't help like others. But she had a role to py and a strength to offer at just the right moment.

  Then, the shadow leaped like a silent arrow. There was no sound, no pop, only the gleam of whitish fangs about to sink into the demon's neck. But this was a corrupt one, a rather intelligent one even among them. Alerted by his instincts, he moved too quickly, turning to face his ambush with his own cws.

  For an instant, it seemed the writhing demon would slice the lone shadow of a small snake. And if that half-breed shadow had attacked alone, that would have been its fate. But of course, Saint wouldn't allow it.

  A tendril of shadow moved among the cracks in the creature's armor. Right at the spot where Saint had grabbed it to throw it away. For a moment, it seemed weak and harmless, but then, a myriad of shadow tendrils grew in an uncontrolled explosion.

  Like a devouring pgue, the tendrils grew and spread through the armor's cracks, through the creature's flesh. Blood gushed forth, and a shriek of pure agony echoed across the pin. It was a morbid and violent event as flesh was ripped and the natural armor made from its own body fractured.

  The demon recovered much sooner than anyone could have imagined, tearing one of its arms through the dense shadows. But that was its biggest mistake, for its goal was never to wound, but to distract.

  The sensation of two fangs burying themselves in the back of its neck assaulted it. With a scream of pure rage, it tried to shake off the slippery serpent. But to his surprise, the shadow simply dissolved into the parasite crawling beneath his skin.

  His eyes were a deep red as he savagely tore at his enemy. Gone were the traces of intelligence that characterized him. Now he simply fought like an animal.

  It was a morbid sight to watch, a creature struggling to tear off its own skin while screams of agony and bloodshed filled the air. But in reality, there was no one who cared.

  Like a hammer, Saint's fist struck the creature, causing it to fall. The pain in its newly formed core was gone, and only strength remained… strength beneath a body about to fall apart. But it didn't matter, because there were no more enemies ahead.

  Without looking again, Saint summoned a heavy warhammer from the darkness. Its surface scraped the ground for an instant, sinking it into the earth under its own weight. Then, with a bow, the heavy hammer fell upon the creature's head.

  The creature's skull cracked easily, scattering blood and bone everywhere; but contrary to expectations, there was no warning from the spell. Instead, tiny insects began to emerge from the demon's broken body as if escaping a diseased corpse.

  She didn't allow it.

  Their shadows, which danced around her, materialized and ignited under the fme of her divinity. Small screeches were heard as the vile creatures were consumed.

  < You have killed a transcendent demon [Carrion Demon] >

  < Your shadow grows stronger >

  < Your heart brims with darkness >

  A sudden calm fell over the battlefield, but she couldn't enjoy it. Their shadows froze, their joints creaked. Time itself seemed to slow down.

  The Winter Titan had arrived.