Shadow Slave: Riftwalker

Disclaimer: This chapter is a little graphic.

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Aeona reached into her pocket, revolted by the action. What lay inside was an eyeball, her eyeball. It was a sickening reminder of the single most painful moment of her life, or perhaps the worst that she remembered.

Her hand curved beneath it, scooping it in a bowl-like position. As she removed her hand from her pocket, she gulped in anticipation. She had almost hoped that she'd have a reaction to it, but alas, the worst she felt was sick to her stomach.

This meant that she would have to force herself to react manually.

While she couldn't speak—or breathe—her opponent certainly could. Upon noticing the eyeball in her hand, he scoffed, "Seeing your own defeat? Maybe even the reflection of your own disgust through that misplaced eye of yours..." She heard his words but saved a response for later.

To his surprise, and absolute confusion, the lady before him placed her hand over her lips and let her left eye trickle onto her tongue. "W-What...?" Even he almost vomited at the sight, "...you've gone mad."

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Grounded Counter POV:

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Shoving the defenseless woman against the stadium walls, he chuckled in amusement. While he had never met the girl himself—at least not before the tournament—he heard each and every rumor, and even rumors aside, he knew who she truly was.

She was vile, merciless, and most of all...

...disgusting.

This 'Glad-Marked Dragoon' or new and improved 'Battle Maiden' wasn't honorable. She picked on the innocent and excused her behavior as: "Taking out criminals for the sake of the holy!". She believed that because the Statue of Divinity chose her, that she was excusable for her options. That because she was viewed as 'holy'—or whatever fucked up meaning of it that Gods had—that she was suddenly blessed to do whatever.

So, he trained relentlessly, practicing day in and day out. Most of his life was dedicated to growing, he studied modern stances, counterattacks, offensive and defensive movements. All of which just to beat one woman. One girl far stronger than she deserved.

She looked at people weaker than her as ugly, nasty creatures akin to the abominations in nature, so he took her eye. She murdered his parents, strangling them by the throat until they cried their final tear, and so he did the same to her. Unfortunately, the girl wasn't crying, she seemed to be in her own thoughts.

That was until her eyes focused back on him. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, which brought him into a cackle. What an entertaining expression...

Rather than throwing another useless punch at him, she reached her hand into her pocket, before taking it back out. The Grounded Counter—or otherwise known as Eisleigh—mirthfully laughed.

"Seeing your own defeat? Maybe even the reflection of your own disgust through that misplaced eye of yours..." She had finally seen her own pathetic self! Or maybe it was him hoping that this was her final self-reflection, thinking about her failures in life.

But no...

...this demon of a woman wouldn't change so easily...

She tossed the eyeball into her mouth before smirking with a scrunched nose and a distasteful expression. He was appalled, this was no final goodbye... or if it was, it was a nasty one. 

Moments later he heard a gag, one similar to when her hand was in her pocket. "W-What...?" Once again, he reacted, this time imagining something rancid. "...you've gone mad." but before he could process what was going to happen next, it happened.

The cunning girl in front of him, rather than fighting back with the same emotional power she knew before, had chosen a more strategic approach. He thought she was underestimating him, but in reality, he thought she was dumber than she was.

The Glad-Marked Dragoon ejected whatever breakfast the Castle of War gifted him, if the food was even from the same day. What followed was the same eye he tore from her face. All of it—akin to the blood flooding his opponents face—it covered his in a long splash. As he felt her visionary orb impact against his nose, he lowered his guard for a moment...

...and as the Battle Maiden planned, she took advantage and high-kicked the regurgitated-on face, this time knocking him to the floor. Opening his eyes in fright, he noticed that his vision was obstructed in yellow. She got me...

He was a superior fighter, and while the notorious Dragoon was known for mass murder, her victims were merely Dormant humans. These people were without an aspect, and from what he knew—and observed from the battle—this girl was significantly weaker than he was. In the end, she used two things unrelated to strength in order to win him over.

One, the feeling of disgust—his and her own.

Two, the blocking of vision—ironically of the same man who took her eye.

Without pausing for breath, she continued her onslaught, striking his left mandible with her right elbow. Multiple teeth shot out of his mouth, but she slammed his jaw and head against each other in order to seal his lips. From the backlash of this scenario, he accidentally swallowed. Each individual tooth slid down his esophagus.

As his head shot back in pain, she shot it farther with an uppercut and round-housed him farther away. While he was on the ground before, this time he was lying face up with his back against prickly gravel. His vision had finally cleared, but as he focused on his opponent, he wished it hadn't.

Her expression was deranged with hunger, desperation, and a tinge of excitement. Her eyes had an odd spark running through them, as if in a state of enlightenment. She wore a frown but bore the aura of a smirk. 

"Monster..." He hissed, pain overstimulating his nerves.

She dove to the ground, fist first into his lower abdomen. Unfortunately, as if mirroring his sharp and cunning fingernail style, she pierced his skin and tore away his lower-right abdomen. He felt a gut-wrenching sting, but had no time to react, as she stood and stomped on his neck with her bare feet, mimicking his strangulation from earlier.

"Ack!" He coughed but was silenced as she crouched and moved closer to his face.

"You said: 'Seeing your own defeat? Maybe even the reflection of your own disgust...'" She muttered as she increased the pressure her sole applied, "...but it seems you witnessed it firsthand..."

Moments passed which felt like hours, but just as he was about to lose consciousness, she brought her leg up, releasing him from his restricted position. He gasped for air, and choked on his own spit, but as he finally reached a moment of comfort—compared to his situation—she looked down on him with a taunting expression.

"How the mighty have fallen." She chuckled, "You should have controlled your disgust." She paused then rose her leg into a familiar stance. "Although... I can't be talking, this entire counter happened because I couldn't either." Her leg lowered and—with the most powerful force so far—she axe-kicked him, caving his skull in and converting his brain to mush.

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Aeona's POV:

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[You have slain an Awakened human, Eisleigh]

[You have received a Memory...]

Aeona fell to the ground, out of breath and on the verge of unconsciousness.

[...received a Memory: Fang of Serpentine]

Her eyes shut with the same fatigue she had felt mere seconds before the Nightmare. The last figure she noticed was one of above, a figure that radiated the aura of an Ascended. It was a familiar figure, and it held an expression of shock. 

The shock on their face twisted into a wicked grin, marking the end of her quarterfinal match.