Watching the battlefield instantly shift from three against two to one against two, leaving only billowing black smoke and occasional flashes of gray-black light, the fake Valkur cursed, "Damn Sebek! He's always the fastest at running away!"
However, his curse was instantly cut short by a blade flash as swift as lightning.
Valkur's expression turned incomparably sinister, and the captain's cutlass in his hand transformed into a longsword. "In that case, let me witness the power of Toril's Lord of Death!"
"I never said I wouldn't help!" Edna replied quickly. "Kelemvor, you wouldn't think that me beating him up while you fought him would get in your way, would you?"
The skull beneath Kelemvor's hood silently opened and closed its gleaming bony jaw... Everyone who saw it understood the Lord of Death's implication: the undead did not speak human language.
Valkur—no, he should have been called An, Mulhorand's former God-King and the current war god Anhur—was practically roaring. "Kelemvor? Haven't you always called yourself a valiant Knight?
Refusing a duel only proves your cowardice! But you even dare not defy a woman's words... What? Has this new Mystra accepted your courtship in Midnight's place?
Heh~
Do Toril's male Gods even understand what self-respect means?
Women should just stay where they are and wait obediently for men to choose them!
This world, heh~ should be remade!"
"The last one bold enough to choose between two goddesses was called Helm," Edna said softly. "Look, he's by the sun right now, preparing to sacrifice himself to feed a snake!
Why don't you ask him what he thinks about it?"
Endless purple stars emerged behind Edna... fist-sized meteors smashed fiercely toward Anhur one after another.
"And~" she said calmly, "I won't let you provoke me into entering that black-smoke domain to attack you directly.