“Why am I not surprised?” Zel sighed inwardly, turning her attention back to her opponent. She wouldn’t just end it now - that just wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t be fair. She’d wait until the Sister could move again and do it properly. 

But who knew how long that would take? It would only make sense to pass the time, and what better way to pass the time than with conversation?

“You know, I would’ve been a non-factor if you just kept your highwaymen in check,” she began. “You could’ve raised an army that all of Willowdale couldn’t dream of putting a dent in. But no, you just had to extort farmers for grain!” 

It was laughable. Such a menial, petty thing, and for what? To show the evil Ikes what-for, by robbing some farmers just because they happened to be the wrong color. The only thing Zel could do at this very moment was laugh. Laugh at how hard the locusts tried to be a threat, only to bring destruction on themselves by pushing too hard.

“Not only that,” she continued, “but just ‘cause I happened to crawl out of some bunker in the E.Z. and happen to have a better grasp on Fog-breathing than most, you couldn’t leave me be. So, this is what you get.”

Holding out her hand and spreading her fingers, she made white lightning arc between her fingers to illuminate her smile. She wasn’t grinning ear-to-ear, or snarling like a beast; this was a smile of earnest promise, a more severe threat than any of the extraneous words that came out of her mouth.

“I’ll be the boogeyman you want me to be. I’ll make sure you, the real war criminals, face justice. True justice. There will be no corrupt war trial - you won’t get to live on as a tolerated nuisance just ‘cause your country won the war. I’ll wipe you bugman scum out down to the last queen, and then I’m coming for the Emperor.”

“Don’t you dare speak of justice to me,” the Sister spat. “Ikesia had the gall to stand against its betters, and rightfully paid the price. And the Sage… He was as weak a leader as they come. A suicidal madman that would sooner trap his people than face defeat. We both possess strength, yet you side with those who lost. Not of your own free will, but because that’s what you were made to do.”

“Strength? You have no real strength,” Zelsys rebuked. “That’s why dregs of humanity like you feel the need to impose yourself on those who cannot defend themselves. The moment you are faced with one who equals you in violence, your philosophy falls apart. The capacity for violence is only part of real strength - that’s what the likes of you refuse to understand.”

A grin of broken teeth and chitin plates spread across the Sister’s face. “You’re fucked either way. Even if you were to somehow grow to equal the Sage, you’ve no chance against the Divine Emperor, let alone all of Pateiria. No one does. Even the Grekurians understand that simple fact.”

Zelsys returned a grin of her own, her teeth gleaming like fangs and her eyes shining predatory silver.

“I’ve no clue where the limits of my capability lie, but I know this much: I’m far from your biggest problem,” she shot back. “You of all people should know this; if terrorists like you keep encroaching on the lives of this country’s people, they’ll make the War of Fog look like a fucking joke when the blackwall comes down. They will rebuild Ikesia not as a country, but as an engine of vengeance. And you will have stoked its flames.”

She squatted down and stared the broken Locust Noble in her eyes, grabbing her chin to force eye contact. 

“And when the Second War of Fog starts, we won’t be there to stop them,” she said. “We’ll be right there in the middle of it, carrying the Divine Emperor’s head on a pike through the burning streets of his capital. All because you couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

Zelsys hadn’t even meant most of what she said when she first began, having allowed a continuous stream of consciousness to lead her down this path. Even though she had spoken from a place of wrath and spite, saying all these things lit a flame in her chest that wouldn’t be extinguished. Indeed… If the Locust Nobles chose to keep going after her, and chose to keep threatening the lives of innocent people, she would willingly be the very thing they accused her of.

“You are just… The fantasies of an arrogant madman brought to life,” the traitor gurgled. “Wal-walghking propaganda.”

“Fantasy, eh?” chuckled the beast-slayer. 

“Does this feel like fantasy?!” she growled, digging her fingers under the bright-red plate over the bug’s left breast. A sharp yank sent it clattering across the ground, percussion to the sweet music of the Sister’s screaming. She stepped back, already anticipating the sister’s furious sweeping strike as she got up, using the time to work the bolt and load a new slug shell. Ka-klack. Ka-klack.

Spreading out her arms, Zelsys continued taunting the previously well-composed swordswoman, “You want me to be your perfect antagonist?! Here I am! Come at me you zipperhead-loving bug whore!”

One moment, she was taunting a downed foe. The next, she was forced into an elaborate dance of dodging by an unfettered onslaught so savage that it seemed like losing an arm only made the Sister stronger. 

In the absence of said limb the Locust Noble began to rely much more heavily on her footwork, striking out with lightning-fast kicks and knees that even Zelsys wasn’t willing to go up against; not for fear of being overpowered in sheer kicking power, but because the Sister still had the advantage in terms of melee weapons. It was a foregone conclusion that if Zel made the mistake of countering the Sister’s kicks with her own, the traitor would use her sword as a thrusting weapon to get the upper hand.