With a whisper to Nightpiercer, she imbued the blade with her Celestial essence. The sword pulsed and elongated into a celestial form—longer, darker, inscribed with burning runes.
With one clean strike, she cleaved the beast in two.
The Class 11 Shadow Beast screamed.
Too late.
Grace turned her gaze toward it, eyes glowing like stars.
And then she moved.
Faster than sound.
She struck.
Again.
And again.
Ten strikes in the blink of an eye—each blow cutting through flesh and soul.
The beast staggered.
Her dragon dove from the sky, engulfing it in a cyclone of celestial fire.
When it collapsed, Grace raised her hands and summoned every remaining wisp of shadow and fire she had absorbed during the fight.
She poured it into the ground.
Into the air.
Into the very bones of the city.
And then, she sealed it.
A golden dome of celestial energy rose from the ashes—impossibly strong, reinforced by runes that shimmered with starlight and death.
