Shadow Slave

Chapter 1201

Under the relentless onslaught of rain, blood was being washed off the shattered armor of a beautiful young woman with black hair and vermilion eyes. She swayed, trying to lash out with her cracked sword, but slipped in the mud and fell heavily to one knee.

Her breathing was hoarse, and her lips were painted crimson with blood. Mordret looked much worse than his sister. One of his eyes was gone, turning his face into a grotesque mask. So was one of his hands. His armor was on the verge of collapsing into a whirlwind of sparks, and terrible wounds covered his body, revealing flesh and bone.

And yet, his expression was calm.

'Ah... it hurts... I haven't felt pain like that in a long, long time...'

He was growing weak because of blood loss, his vision turning blurry. But he was so close to his goal... after long, excruciating years, the first true taste of his revenge was so near. So, Mordret took a step forward, and then another. His sword rose. His hand was firm and unshaken.

Morgan looked up at him, and the look in her eyes was sweeter than nectar. Confusion, indignation... and hidden behind them, a hint of fear.

"How... how are you still standing, monster..."

Mordret smiled.

'Barely...'

trying to buy time. Using one of the enchantments absorbed by her body, she was trying to heal herself - her wounds were already closing, and she was not bleeding nearly as heavily as she was

essence, her focus, and her stamina.

last a little bit longer than that. His sister gathered what little remained of her strength and dashed forward with a furious growl. Her sword flashed, sharp and cunning, aiming for his neck... Mordret knew that he wouldn't be able

his neck, endured the blinding flash of pain, and drove his own sword into a crack in

temple with

long sigh escaped

veil of rain covering the battlefield, he could see what was happening around them. Clan Song... was losing. The titanic worm was battered and mutilated, but three

wearing Whispering Blade's face - was not going to last much longer, either. Saint Madoc himself was close to prevailing in his harrowing battle against Beastmaster. Silent Stalker and Summer Knight were still fighting, both stubbornly refusing to admit defeat. At this rate, both of them would perish, and even if the taciturn daughter

the Reflection of Sir Gilead seemed to be failing against one of Nether's children that Sunless had somehow made his. The scoundrel himself,

and tired to do that. '...Dire Fang is dead? Sunless and the Dreamspawn killed a Saint?' This was a terrible, disastrous piece of news,

pushed her into the mud again with a cruel strike of his sword. There was more pain, and it was suddenly hard for him to keep

but Mordret liked it

They clashed several more times, and each time, Mordret was on the losing end of the exchange. ...Until he wasn't. At some point, somehow, almost unexplainably, he gained the initiative in

wounds he had accumulated, no matter how terribly Morgan hurt him, Mordret was unshaken. His one remaining eye

the continuation of the

the ground with her

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