Aer watched as the deadly shard of jagged gray mana shot towards her apprentices, her heightened Saintly perceptions making it feel as slow as a drifting cloud. She saw as Rythian Marlowe's face contorted into a victorious smirk, his arrogance nearly palpable as he silently taunted her. She sensed that, miles away, Kiro and Seira had expertly fought off an onslaught of Second Circle mystics, oblivious to the certain death just seconds away from reaching them.

She drew in a shuddering breath, digging her nails into her palm.

She couldn't stop it. Not unless she wanted to tear her core apart again. And even if her apprentices survived the sudden wrench needed to get them out of the way, this attack was imbued with a Saint's will — it would relentlessly pursue her with the determination that only an earth-aspected Saint could muster, tiring her out until it drilled through her and into her disciples' feeble bodies.

All of this stemmed from her mercy. All of this pain, all of this bloodshed was because she had decided to let Hong Ma live. Even now, the matriarch was sniggering behind her hired protector, relishing the torment of the woman who had rescued a trio of innocent children from her cruel experiments. How ironic, that her intervention had lead to them dying even earlier.

What could she do? What could she do? She steadied her shaking hands, forcing herself to stay calm. She needed to keep a clear head. For her disciples. But… there wasn't anything she could do here, was there?

You're a monster. After hundreds of thousands of slaughters, you're still not satisfied?

But it would save even more lives. Her precious apprentices, that they were bound to kill.

Your thirst for blood is never quenched, and so you feel a need to justify it.

What else could she do? Her throat knotted, but she steeled herself. If she didn't do this, even more deaths would result.

At least you wouldn't be the one killing them, you monster.

The attack was already almost there. It was going to kill her disciples if she didn't stop it!

I pleaded to you, right before you went off to fight them. I begged you not to do it. Instead, you struck them all down, dooming me and the rest of the sect in your ruthlessness. But of course, you don't care, do you? You don't see us as human, just mindless sheep waiting to be slaughtered. You're no better than the woman you're trying to kill.

No! That wasn't her real husband. He wouldn't —

Why wouldn't I? You betrayed me. You betrayed us all. I regret every ounce of faith I had in you.

She slumped, slowly falling back to the molten ground.

Was this how she died? Helpless to stop a man dozens of times weaker than her from killing the only people she still cared about?

It's better than the alternative.

No. It wasn't.

She stopped herself from falling, silencing the voice and gritting her teeth in determination. That wasn't her husband. Her husband was long dead, and if he were alive, he would have never wanted her to die like this.

And she'd see the heavens fall before she let him down again.

Her aura billowed out like a wave of dense fog, and the volcanic rock beneath her instantly cooled against the swirling wind. Sparks of lightning crackled in midair, but she moved so fast that she made them seem motionless in comparison. Her husband has died protecting those he cared about. If nothing else, she'd be able to go like he did.

With the slightest amount of effort, the shard of true earth halted to a stop, an onslaught of true wind pushing against it with overwhelming force.

Marlowe's expression shifted to one of shock, but she was already behind him, slamming him face-first into his own conjured rock.

He desperately shot up, surrounding himself with a protective barrier of magma. "W-what are you doing? Don't you see your apprentices are going to die?"

His words wouldn't make it to her ears for another fraction of a second, but her mana sense brought them to her instantly. She projected a response back, smirking.

"I have plenty of time before that happens."

He had barely even registered the message when a thousand needles of wind stabbed through the molten rock, puncturing him so fast that he couldn't even bleed before the next attack came.

The glowing staff knocked him back down, and she appeared next to him, true wind gathering behind her.

His eyes widened in terror, and he frantically tried to change his trajectory. The blade of cutting mana missed him by a hair, and he forced his spirit into overdrive, releasing a blast of flame that encompassed the entire valley.

"You dare toy with me while my attack is the blink of an eye away from slaughtering your kin? That will prove to be a deadly mistake, woman!"

"Is that so?"

***

Rythian Marlowe threw himself from the explosion as fast as his mana-infused body would allow, observing the results of his attack. He wiped his palms on his suit, trying to reassure himself that he hadn't miscalculated. That attack had to have hit her, right? Right?

The silver-eyed woman stepped from the flames without a scratch, laughing as she pointed a simple iron blade towards him.

"Let me show you the height of the heavens, volcanic Saint."

His conjured flames pooled towards her, and it took him a moment to realize that she was manipulating them towards her sword. He began to shout, but his words were interrupted by a flash of inexplicable pain as a dozen wounds suddenly appeared on his person.

How was she so fast?

He channeled mana to palm, preparing to retaliate, only… there wasn't a palm to channel it to. He looked down, screaming as he clutched the bloody stump that used to be his right arm.

***

Aer tossed away the now-melted iron sword, turning away from the fallen Saint with a melancholy smirk. Hong Ma slowly backed away from her, struggling to even breathe in her choking aura. To the Third Circle mystic, her battle with Marlowe must have happened too fast to even register.

"P-please, honored Saint, this worthless, pitiful mystic begs for your mercy!"

Her killing intent sharpened, and she looked at the woman with dead eyes. "Seira said the same thing to me when we first met. How horrible are you, to teach your clan's children to fear anyone with more power than them?"

Her aura pressed down, and Hong Ma didn't even get to scream before her body and spirit were crumbled to dust.

Aer slumped, slapping herself to prevent the wave of emotion from overtaking her mind. She had done it, but this fight wasn't over. She had one last task.

This entire time, her entire body had been spasming, her uncontrolled mana ravaging her cells from the inside out. Now, though, her iron will forced her muscles into motion, and she threw her bag of holding onto the ground.

Rythian Marlowe eyed it hungrily, struggling to stand against her crushing aura.

"I… will… strip that bag of holding from your dying corpse…"

She sighed. "You were right about one thing, volcanic Saint. I will be dying today. However, it will not be to your terms."

True lightning flashed in her palm, and the entire bag exploded, spewing its charred and broken contents all around them.

He roared with indignity, clutching his stump of a shoulder and gnashing his teeth at her. "Why in the heavens did you do that? It's unwritten code that the victor gets the spoils!"

She snorted. "Rythian Marlowe, you threw away code the moment you sent a dozen Nascent Soul cultivators to attack a defenseless trio a full circle below them."

"Y-you dare? You dare?"

The man roared, reversing the trajectory of the shard of true earth. "I will make sure that every limb of yours is severed before finally killing you and moving on to your disciples. I will make you feel a hundred times the pain you have caused me to feel. I will —"

The technique darted into view, and Aer sighed. "All this trouble for a little stone, huh?"

She closed her eyes, smiling as she felt her apprentices' mana one last time. Then, her core exploded, engulfing the area in a raging swirl of true storms.