The battle raged around Mary, the clash of steel ringing in her ears, the roar of power crackling through the air like the roar of an angry storm. Her breath was ragged, her body straining against the pressure that threatened to break her apart. The Archangel's power was surging through her, but it felt as though it was both a blessing and a curse—an overwhelming force, urging her to succumb to its full might. Yet, she held on. She fought the darkness that whispered in her mind, desperate to claim her as its own.
The figure before her—this harbinger of destruction—watched her with an almost clinical detachment, as though it were studying her every move, waiting for the inevitable moment when she would fall. It was no longer just a battle of swords and spells. It was a battle for her very soul.
Mary's saber hummed in her grip, the ethereal glow growing brighter with each swing. Her heart pounded, her thoughts blurry as the Archangel's influence pulled at her like an invisible chain. It wanted to break free, to take control. But Mary would not let it.
"Why do you resist, Mary?" the figure asked, its voice cold and mocking. "You are the chosen one. You were born for this. To wield the power of the Archangel and reshape the world in its image. Why fight it?"
Her eyes blazed with defiance. "Because I'm not a tool for destruction. I choose my path. And I will not let you control me."
The figure's eyes narrowed, and with a flick of its wrist, a wave of darkness surged toward her. The blast hit her full force, sending her crashing into the stone wall behind her. She gasped for air, her body aching from the impact. But she refused to stay down. The Archangel's power surged within her, and she knew this was the moment—the moment when she would either succumb or break free.
Lela and Loosie fought valiantly beside her, their weapons flashing as they engaged the figure's minions. But the dark figure itself remained untouchable, its movements too swift, too unpredictable. Mary couldn't afford to be distracted, but she knew that if they didn't hold their ground, they would be overrun. She couldn't do this alone.
With a cry, she pushed herself to her feet, her mind clearing as the Archangel's presence pulsed through her veins. The saber in her hand began to vibrate, its blade glowing brighter than ever before. She could feel the Archangel's voice in her mind—urgent, commanding. The power was hers to wield, but at what cost? She couldn't let it consume her.
Mary looked toward Lela and Loosie, who were struggling to hold their ground. She could see the determination in their eyes, but she knew they wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. The figure was too powerful. It was only a matter of time before it overwhelmed them all.
But Mary wasn't going to let that happen.
With a deep breath, she focused on the energy coursing through her. The saber in her hand pulsed with light, and she felt the Archangel's power respond, bending to her will. She was no longer a passive vessel for its might. She had become the master of it.
In one swift motion, Mary lunged toward the figure, her saber cutting through the air like a beam of pure light. The figure's eyes widened in surprise, and for the first time, it stumbled back, its movements faltering as it tried to evade the attack. But Mary was faster.
Her saber connected with the figure's cloak, and for a moment, the room seemed to freeze. The darkness around them flickered as though it were afraid, as though it knew it was being challenged. The figure's cloak disintegrated into nothingness, revealing a form that was more monstrous than she could have imagined—a shadowy entity, its skin like cracked obsidian, its eyes burning with an unnatural fire. The power emanating from it was almost unbearable, but Mary stood her ground.
"You've come too far to stop now," the figure hissed. "You think you can defeat me? You think you can stop the rise of the Archangel?"
Mary's voice was steady, unwavering. "I don't need to defeat you. I need to defeat what you represent. I won't let you bring this world to its knees."
With that, she thrust her saber forward, sending a shockwave of light and energy hurtling toward the figure. The explosion of power sent ripples through the air, shaking the very foundations of the chamber. The figure howled in pain, its form flickering, its strength waning.
But it wasn't over yet.
With a guttural roar, the figure summoned another wave of darkness, a shadow so dense it seemed to consume everything in its path. Mary was knocked back once again, the force of the attack nearly sending her to her knees. She gasped for air, the weight of the battle beginning to take its toll. But she couldn't stop. Not now.
"Mary," Lela's voice cut through the chaos. "You have to finish this. We're running out of time!"
Mary looked toward her, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes, the weariness that had begun to settle into every movement. Loosie, too, was struggling, her movements sluggish. They were reaching their limits. This fight couldn't last much longer.
She turned back to the figure, its form shifting and warping, regaining its strength. It was only a matter of time before it became unstoppable. Mary had to do something—something more, something that would end this once and for all.
With a desperate cry, Mary summoned the full power of the Archangel, allowing it to surge through her in a torrent of light and energy. The force was nearly overwhelming, but this time, Mary didn't fight it. She embraced it. The Archangel's power filled her, its light blinding in its intensity. Her saber blazed with a brilliance that seemed to burn the very air around her.
And with that, she struck.
The saber cut through the darkness like a knife through paper, the light around it slicing through the very fabric of the world. The figure screamed as the light consumed it, its form dissolving into nothingness. The energy released in that moment was like a tidal wave, and the world seemed to tremble beneath it.
Mary stood there, breathing heavily, her body shaking with the aftereffects of the battle. Her saber dimmed, the light fading as the Archangel's power receded. She had done it. The figure was gone.
But the victory was bittersweet. She could feel it—the remnants of the Archangel's presence inside her, still pulsing like a dark heartbeat. The battle was over, but Mary knew this was just the beginning.
The figure had been right about one thing: she couldn't escape the power that coursed through her. It was part of her now. And if she was going to survive, she would have to learn to control it—before it controlled her.
"Mary…" Lela's voice was soft, tinged with concern. "Are you all right?"
Mary didn't answer immediately. She was still reeling from the intensity of the battle, from the power that had surged through her. But she knew one thing for sure: the fight wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
"Let's go," she said finally, her voice steady but weary. "We've still got a long way to go."
With that, they turned, making their way through the now silent chamber. The battle was won, but the war was far from over.