“You there,” Vio said to the armor-clad man.  “Follow me.”

“I hardly think you’re one to be giving me orders,” the armored soldier said.  “Especially when we only have to discuss the terms of your surrender.”

“There’s a field about half a mile to the east.  We can have our battle there.”

“And why should I take orders from you?”

“Your underlings look barely capable of holding a sword, if you could call those rusted weapons swords in the first place.  I want to minimize casualties on both sides, and would prefer to avoid having my soldiers have to slay your underlings in the heat of battle if I can help it.  Besides, it sounds like your quarrel is with me alone.”

“A foolish choice, but it is yours to make.”  The leader turned to their soldiers.  “Men, stand down while I deal with this haughty wench.”

“Should we do the same?” Lieutenant Maxwell asked.

Vio nodded, her eyes affixed on the masked fighter.  The two stared each other down, as much as was possible with their face clad in armor.  They seemed powerful— not enough to defeat her— but certainly enough that she might have to resort to transformation to cut them down.

The two leaders walked off in silence while their armies appeared to honor the brokered ceasefire.  Through a small patch of forested land they traveled toward a field that would forever mark one of their graves.  In any other circumstance, Vio would have enjoyed the outing, spending time among nature, enjoying the light warm breeze coming from the northwest, but there was no joy in her steps as she marched on, resolved to do what needed to be done.

They reached their destination a few minutes later.  Vio walked thirty paces onward before turning around.  Neither said a word as they stared each other down, watching each other’s movements, surveying their stances, and probing for any potential weaknesses.  The wind whipped up into a gust, as though the planet were watching, eager to see the first of what would certainly be many battles to decide the fate of the world.

“Will you not engage me, Dame Knight?  Very well, then I shall strike the first blow!”

The soldier blitzed forward with a silent blur that should have been impossible for someone wearing so much heavy plate.  They crashed down upon Vio with a massive downstroke, one which she raised her sword to parry.  But they withdrew their attack at the last second, diverting their swing away from Vio’s greatsword, and attempted to swerve around it.

Vio willed a bit of magic into her blade and it doubled in size, catching the slash as the masked fighter attempted to feint, locking the two in a contest of wills.  Vio pushed forward with all her might and knocked the fighter back, staggering them.  She thrust forward, but withdrew her strike at the last second.  It was too easy.  An illusion?

She turned around and parried a strike aimed at her waist, narrowly avoiding a fatal wound.  Despite the attack, she remained steadfast as the soldier continued their assault, swinging in directions that defied reason.  Their strikes seemed even to bend and twist space and reality, turning what should have been routine attacks into ones that required precise calculation and preternatural focus just to defend herself, let alone press the initiative.

Their attacks weren’t particularly strong in terms of sheer force, but they more than made up for their individual weakness in quantity and precision.  Each blow seemed to be perfectly aimed at a vital spot or a weakness in her armor, whether at her neck, waist, shoulders, elbows, or otherwise.  One vicious slash even aimed to slice her head clean off, one of the few times the fighter’s arrogance got the better of them and Vio was able to briefly press an attack.

And worst still, despite fighting offensively— in both senses of the word— they hardly seemed fatigued.  No shortness of breath, and barely a light sweat as they continued their relentless attack.  However, Vio was beginning to parse certain patterns and proclivities in their attacks, their tendencies to dodge left, and an almost imperceptible limp in their right ankle when leaping backward.  But considering the tenacity and cunning of her foe, she realized that even that weakness could be a ploy to lure her to her death.

“I am impressed,” the fighter said.  “You are the first Shard-wielder to last so long against me.  But you will fall like the others.  It is inevitable.”

Vio said nothing, knowing that anything the fighter said carried a dual purpose, every word and action a blade aimed to take her life.  Those words were designed to intimidate her into thinking they were far beyond her.  And also to appeal to her emotions, to grieve for dead people who might never have existed.  Or provide cover for an ambush.  The latter proved true as she sidestepped a thrust coming at her from behind.

So that’s it.  Vio smiled.  Finally, some progress on what this individual’s technique was.  Some sort of duplication ability.  By moving so quickly as to be perceived as little more than a blur, they were also obscuring that they were temporarily distending into two separate bodies, allowing them to contort in ways that wouldn’t have been possible for a single mind or body.  But analyzing a technique was only the first step toward countering it.

“So you’ve figured it out,” the armored fighter said.  “I suppose you are a little more clever than most.  However, you will fall just like the rest.”

Their body bent and twisted in unnatural ways.  Muscles undulated just beneath their armor as their fingers warped and twisted in impossible directions.  A guttural, disgusting sound like a throaty gargle reverberated from within their mask before the metal bent and separated at the joints.  Two more arms ripped out of their back, followed by two additional legs sprouting from their lower torso, and before long, there were two of them, seemingly identical in every way.

“You shouldn’t have sent your soldiers away,” they said.  “With those numbers, you might have had a chance, at least to escape.  Fare thee well, Knight of Vilhold!”

Vio shook her head as the fighter’s dual bodies charged at her from different directions.  Two wings sprouted from her shoulders as she gained two feet in height.  She blocked the strike coming from her front with her greatsword, and batted the one behind her aside with her wings.  The two continued their assault on the nephilim warrior, who was being pushed back as she again took time to analyze and process their attack patterns.  But unlike before, she was holding her own, even occasionally pushing back and taking the initiative when the two bodies weren’t perfectly coordinated.

The two warriors in three bodies continued their battle, Vio now incorporating her mastery of earth-element magic to lob dust and clods of dirt at her assailant’s bodies as they fought.  A dance of blades ensued, Vio individually outclassing either of the two bodies, but still finding herself unable to land a decisive strike.

“So, the rumors of the famed Angel of Vilhold are true after all.”

Vio again made no response.

The other body spoke.  “I have heard rumors of a warrior who could assume the form of an angel.  A truly fearsome warrior said to be the mightiest in the entire kingdom when she transforms.  It seems the rumors are true.”

“I never claimed to be an angel,” Vio said, seeking an opportunity for some subterfuge of her own.

“So, you can speak, after all.”

“I can.  Tell me, why go to all these lengths to seek me out?  Are you that mad for power that you would throw away so many innocent lives to sate your ambition?”

The two bodies both laughed in unison.  “This is the power of our creator herself!  The power to shape worlds, to turn even our most fantastical desire into reality.  For ultimate power, anything might be sacrificed!”

“And who are you to make such a determination?  I care not what you do with your own life.  Damn yourself for all eternity for all I care.  But your ambitions have cost far too many lives already, and for the sake of the people I am sworn to protect, I will see you brought down.”

“You are such a fool, Dame Knight.  You have such power, and yet you squander it on such weaklings?  How utterly contemptible!  For the good of the world, for the sake of furthering the path of conquest our creator has sought to bring upon us, I will cut you down.”

Vio scowled.  “You sound just like Raesha, down to the last word.  And your words, just like hers, are merely a lie you tell yourself to justify your own lust for power.  However nicely coated in a veneer righteousness they are, they are nothing but selfishness made manifest.  For the sake of all those who depend on me, I will strike you down!”

The fighter smirked.  “We both know you don’t have the power to do so.”

Vio smiled.  “If you believe that to be true, then test your resolve against my blade.”

“Oh, I will!”

The two bodies charged Vio with a relentless fury, but where their attacks were measured and precise before, now they were frantic, erratic, and full of abandon.  Just as Vio had calculated, they were walking right into her trap.

The fighting continued on for another two minutes, Vio counting down the seconds since she transformed.  Four hundred seconds had elapsed, twenty to go until they would make their move.  Vio pressed onward, eager to feign desperation and weakness, and it was as though the masked fighter was equally eager to play along, letting their two bodies be backed up against a nearby tree.  With three seconds remaining, their expressions of worry and fear gave way to a sadistic glee as they charged their blades toward her.

Vio faltered backward, continuing the ruse that her transformation was expiring, and let her opponent launch simultaneous strikes at her from the front and back.  But as they reached the point of no return, thrusting their swords forward, Vio loosed the restraints being held on her transformation to prolong its duration.  Two more wings sprouted from her back and her height increased another two feet.  Her sword was now joined by a spear conjured of her own mana, alit by holy fire, and filled with her righteous fury.

It was over in an instant.  Both of the masked fighter’s bodies suffered fatal wounds.  To one, a spear through the heart, felling the body instantly.  And to the other, a sword strike deep into the abdomen, one which would prove fatal in mere minutes from internal injury and blood loss.  The fighter quivered and shook as Vio withdrew her blade and returned to her two-winged state.

“I– I don’t… understand.  Seven minutes.  That’s what all the information said.  So, how?”

It was exactly as Vio had anticipated.  This fighter knew of Vio and had done their research on her capabilities.  And they were right— Vio’s transformation normally had a duration of seven minutes.  Seven minutes, in her four-winged state.  But during her travels with Zethira and Lady Elissa, she’d received a powerful boon from a village of her own kin, one which allowed her to take on both a two- and six-winged state.  And she could maintain the former of those for hours with little fatigue.  It had never come up since her return to Etria five days prior, and so it was information that not even the most entrenched spies would be able to relay to their masters or sell to the highest bidder.

“Your research on me was too good,” Vio said.  “You had done so much of it that you never considered that it could be faulty.  Or outdated.”

“Ha.  Ha.  Now then.  Finish me.  That is… the only way.”

Vio nodded and, with a single stroke of her greatsword, decapitated the man with neither remorse nor hesitation.  As the ground stained with their blood and the light vanished from their eyes, three golden crystals emerged out of their body, lying atop their corpse.  She picked them up, and just like the shard given to her by Her Majesty days earlier, they sublimed within her body, filling her with strength and resolve.  And making her all the more apprehensive about the battles still to come.