The Sword Saint’s Second Life As a Fox Girl

5-55 Pride

Being an Apostle of Nyx herself, Erin knew just how powerful and dangerous Nyx’s Divine Gift would be. Gaining an immense surge of strength but at a huge cost. Hers was her lust, which would gradually erode her sanity if she didn’t sate it frequently. Witnessing Aera overdrawing on her Divine Gift, Erin shuddered to imagine the cost. She wanted her to stop but the thought of Aedan in imminent danger held her usual disposition back. She herself was in no position to tell Aera otherwise. 

Still, that didn’t mean Erin couldn’t be worried for Aera. The latter’s stats were ever-increasing. She was only in the realm of twenties but at present, her stats had surpassed those in the fifties and they only kept rising. Initially, Erin was able to keep up with Aera’s speed but she was eventually outran.

Erin saw the battle taking place on the horizon, their destination. From afar, she could feel the divinity drifting and wafting from the melee. It was a battle of Faiths. She didn’t know how this came about but that was not her concern. Aedan’s safety was. 

By the time the zealots took notice of the two’s presence, Aera was already upon them but she stopped for no one. She rammed and ploughed her way through the battlefield. Those who tried to stop her or get in her path were either pulverised or incinerated. Aera had become a literally walking sun that weighed hundreds of stones. Despite this, her speed was akin to a hawk swooping for its prey. 

“Skinwalkers,” Erin muttered upon getting close enough to the battlefield. She saw the symbols the zealots had engraved onto their skin. She recognised them both. One was from recent encounters and the other was a recent memory. Neither were pleasant to recall. She brandished a pair of long swords and made her way through the battlefield, cutting down all those that trode into her path.

Those who avoided her blades fell prey to her tails. They moved like creatures with minds of their own, seeking out victims. As soft as they felt and seemed, they were harder than steel when they fell their victims. Many had aimed for her tails, thinking they would be her weakness. The truth was far from their expectations. When they learned of it, it was already over for them all.

Erin gained two levels from this mindless slaughter alone. Killing sapients yielded a lot of experience, thrice the number of common monsters. Instead of regret or terror, only a sense of exhilaration rushed through her. Instead of restraining herself, Erin let herself loose and unleashed her killing intent on all those who trod too near to her.

Despite the euphoria, Erin understood something was wrong with her and she knew the cause. It was Revenant. Every time she died, she never came back whole. There was a piece of her that remained dead. Not only that, the feeling of how she was killed, supposedly, also stayed with her. However, the dread did not cripple her. Instead, it only drove her to kill more. Kill or be killed, the words kept echoing in her mind.

The rapturous state she found herself in came to a sudden halt when a strange yet familiar presence neared her field of senses. It was no presence that she had acquainted with before but she knew who it was— or rather, what he was.

Although Aedan’s safety was still the top priority, the presence of this peculiar individual robbed her of attention and focus. She stopped in her tracks and faced the slowly approaching man.

“Erynthea,” the man greeted. “We finally met, dear sister.”

“I’m no sister of yours,” Erin retorted. “Certainly no sister of one who acquainted himself with… demon sympathisers.”

“Are the other sapient races any better?” the man scoffed. “The humans are certainly no better. If anything, at least the Demons are honest with what they are and don't try to hide behind some desperately forged sophistries and philosophies.”

“Is that what you keep telling yourself every night before you go to sleep?” Erin shot back. “It’s ironic, truly. For someone who’s the Apostle of Pride, you’re lacking a lot of it.”

The man chuckled. “Such is the jest of our dear goddess. I reckon you were quite the celibate before you were the Apostle of Lust, no? We were all antithesis to the aspects we are assigned to.”

“Enough of this. I only have one question for you.”

“My name is Marc.”

Erin snorted. “Your name is no concern of mine. My question is; will you get the fuck out of my way?”

“The answer is as clear as the sky, wouldn’t you say? Elsewise, why would I be standing in your path?”

“Just to be sure,” Erin said with a grin and shot towards Marc. It was barely a second and her blade had already reached his neck. However, the blade failed to cut into his flesh.

“My gift is Pride Persecutor. Whatever I will, it shall be the truth.”

Erin raised an eyebrow. She scoured his information. The Appraisal screens showed nothing of much interest other than his Divine Gift, Pride Persecutor. As Marc stated himself, it allowed him to bend reality to his desires. However, there was a limit. As for the extent of the limit, Erin was still in the dark about it but she knew there had to be a limit.

“I do not want to fight him,” said Marc as he slowly pushed the blade off his neck. “My intention is not to harm your companion. I merely wish to release the seal on him.”

“And why would you want something like that? Do you not know what would happen if you did?”

“I’m well aware, which is why I want to release the seal.”

“You’re not making sense.” Erin tried to move her sword but it won’t budge against Marc’s fingertips.

“I’m tired of living among false ideologies and forged principles. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of all these… hypocrisies. Aren’t you tired?”

“I am.” Erin nodded. “I’m very tired— of people like you!” She swung her other sword. It rushed like the clap of thunder.

Marc leisurely took a step backward and the blade missed him completely. “I have lived a long life. Centuries I have lived through. I was Nyx’s Apostle for half of that lifetime. If you think you have any hope in defeating me, you can stop dreaming.”

“Not the first time I have heard of that. In fact, the one who said these words always fell before me in the end. What makes you any different?”

“Because of this,” Marc said and snapped his fingers.

The swords in Erin’s hands dispersed into thousands of glitters. Erin widened her eyes.

“Do you still wish to fight?”

Erin re-armed herself. This time, she fancied herself a greatsword. “Do you?”

“Such snark. I can only imagine how many people you have angered with that tongue of yours.”

Erin huffed and lunged. Her blade danced swiftly and viciously across the air in spite of its size. It would take significant skill and strength to repel her attack but March did so with a simple flick of his hand.

“I mean what I said. I don’t wish to fight.”

“Good. Just stay put and let me slaughter you.”

“I don’t wish to die either,” he said and side-stepped a slash that carved inches into the solid ground beneath them. 

Erin closed her heart to Marc’s words. Whether they were truthful or just taunts, it mattered none to her. He was an obstacle in her path that needed to be cut down. That was what he was to her. Sibling in faith be damned. Hiding her grimace, she turned her blade around and swung high and wide. She twirled, bringing her blade around, and charged at him.

Marc’s hands moved like a master conducting a tune. The blade seemed to dance along in his direction. The strike that was aimed at his neck drifted off the path.

Erin wanted to snarl but she held herself back. That was no advantage in losing her composure. Besides, that wasn’t all to her assault. Bolts of lightning shot towards him in a flurry. He twirled like a dancer and the lightning bolts shot past him without even grazing him. A large stream of thunder followed, rushing at him akin to a raging bull.

“Do you not learn?” Marc scoffed and pointed at the colossal lightning projectile. There was no special gesture nor did Erin feel a surge of Mana. Yet, the thunder stream disappeared into the air in the blink of an eye.

“If hypocrisy is all you can spout, then please do us both a favour and keep your mouth shut.”

“Very well, sister. It appears that you are the type that could learn through a harsh lesson.”

Erin rolled her eyes and pounced at Marc, her greatsword flourishing with lightning and a violet glow.

Marc’s hand was ready to batter the sword away but his mind changed at the last second. He pulled back his hand as the sword cut through the air, leaving sparks flying in its wake.

Erin grinned. She lurched forward with a thrust.

Marc clenched his fist and a spherical vortex of air was formed between him and Erin.

Instead of retreating, Erin thrust into the vortex and it came undone the moment the blade’s tip touched the vortex.

Marc’s expression turned dire for the first time since their encounter.

Erin continued forward, driving her sword towards her brother by faith.

Marc thrust his palm forward in response.

Flesh met steel. Blood would have splattered but sparks flew instead. The clash threw the two a few steps back.

Marc was unharmed but only at first glance. His hand trembled from that clash.

Erin smirked. His weakness had been uncovered. Destroying his altered reality seemed to hurt him and she had the means to shatter his fantasy.

“This is the first…” Marc muttered. 

“Hopefully not the last,” Erin said and unleashed her fury on him. Lightning enveloped her as she rained down blows and slashes upon Marc.

With a wave of his hand, he repelled a blow. With a snap of his fingers, he stopped a slash. However, the onslaught gradually overwhelmed his senses. A shield was only as effective as the wielder’s reaction. Eventually, a strike slipped through his defence and grazed his shoulder. 

Without being given the chance to absorb his surprise, Erin moved in and drove her heel into his belly. Marc retched and stumbled backwards. His wobbly steps failed him and he tripped. But instead of falling, he remained standing. Witnessing such a miracle, Erin refrained from continuing her onslaught.

“You have excellent instincts,” said Marc as he straightened himself without any assistance, which looked to be an impossible feat. “Most would have just pounced on that wonderful opportunity. Somehow, it never occurred to them that it was a ruse. They all thought the same thing. Victory was assured. Oh, how wrong they were.”

“Sounds like you choose your opponents quite carefully.”

“Perhaps… only the fools had dared to face me while the one with wits knew better than to confront me. You, dear sister, are neither and both at the same time.”

The violet glow on her sword intensified. She would have retorted if her Sixth Sense wasn’t screaming at her to be on her utmost caution.

“Are you just going to let me stall for time?”

Erin narrowed her eyes. He was not stalling, she knew that much. He was taunting her, baiting her into attacking. The trap had been set. As for the form of the trap, she was clueless, but the trap was there, waiting for her patience to run out.

Marc chuckled. “I supposed us siblings are the bane of one another. Perhaps that is why our dear goddess is letting us fight among ourselves without doing anything to stop us.”

Before Erin could absorb his words, a distant roar snapped her out of her cerebration. She felt shivers running across her skin. She knew which beast the roar belonged to. “Great. Just what I need,” she growled.