High above, turbulent currents of law surged like solid waves, churning the sky into a chaos of color.
God-tier powers clashed at will. Every flash marked an eruption of energy great enough to destroy a civilization.
Yet beneath that violent spectacle, two subtler and deadlier figures quietly began their hunt.
The Night Lady's figure had nearly merged with the deepest void. Only pinpricks of starlight flowed around her, constantly distorting light and perception.
She moved like a blind spot through the raging storm of energy, utterly silent.
Dies Martin was more active. His true form remained indistinct, but countless tiny Deceit Runes spread along the battlefield's edge like invisible tendrils, gathering information and weaving illusions.
"That singing woman's scared out of her wits. She's running around like a startled rabbit," Dies Martin sent to the Night Lady, his will tinged with mockery. "She's strayed from the main battlefield. Makes it easy for us to give her a little 'surprise.'"
The Night Lady did not respond to his taunt. Her will remained steady and calm.
She fixed on the figure hovering at the edge of the turbulent energy, her aura of withering unstable. It was Wither Chanter Electra, whose barrier Night Cherry Tangle had just wounded and whom several Main Gods had begun to suspect.
Electra was just as Dies Martin had said: unsettled. She had to guard against the other gods above turning their anger on her, watch the two unabated pressures coming from Magic City, and swallow the shock and humiliation of being ambushed by a mortal.
She had no idea the real hunters had already drawn near.
"Night Lady, seal off space. Don't let her escape or call for help. I'll give her something to keep her entertained until she can't tell which way is up."
Malicious excitement