The Saint of Stone had an extremely cold gaze that could have frozen the lightning crackling around them into solid ice.
Then, in the next moment, that gaze became calm.
It was the calm of someone who had lived through centuries of conflict and had learned that panic was a luxury afforded only to those who could not afford to lose. It was the calm of a master who understood exactly what was at stake and exactly what needed to be done.
Around her, the guards nearby flooded into defensive positions with precision of those who had trained for exactly this scenario, their metal weapons raised and their Mana burning bright as they formed a wall of flesh and steel.
And in the shuffle of bodies and the flash of weapons, the figure of the Holy Daughter became hidden briefly, obscured by the press of Warriors who surrounded her with their own forms.
Imperator Luddya frowned at this tactical repositioning, his dark burning eyes tracking the movement with displeasure that creased his otherwise pleasant features.
Then he shook his head slowly.
"Sad."
His voice was soft, almost regretful.
"Fucking sad."
The pleasant mask slipped entirely, revealing something harder beneath.
"I never thought it would have turned out this way."
His hands rose, and the Mana that had been holding him aloft began to shift and flow with new purpose.
"Mana Organ... Rain."
HUUUUM!
The sound that followed was unlike anything the natural world could produce.
High in the skies above them all, above even the floating landmass of stone where the Saint and her guards stood ready, something began to manifest.
It started as a point of light, a convergence of blue and crimson energy that swirled together like two rivers meeting and refusing to fully merge. The light expanded rapidly, growing from a spark to a glow to a radiance that made looking directly at it painful even for those whose cultivation had reinforced their eyes against such brilliance.
And then it took form.
A heart.
A massive manifestation of a Mana heart formed in the heavens, its structure so detailed and so vast that it seemed like an organ ripped from the chest of some titan and suspended in the sky for all to witness. The chambers were visible, four sections of crystallized energy that pulsed with rhythms that matched no mortal heartbeat. Veins and arteries of concentrated Mana spread outward from its surface like roots seeking soil, networks of power that extended in every direction.
It was radiant beyond description, the blue and crimson energies that composed it swirling together in patterns that seemed almost alive.
And from its trunks, from the great vessels that extended downward toward the floating temple below, crimson-blue blood began to erupt.
Not blood as mortals understood it.
Something far worse.
The liquid that poured from that manifested heart fell like rain, but each drop elongated and hardened as it descended, transforming from fluid to solid, from droplet to spear. Thousands of them. Tens of thousands. A deluge of crystallized Mana falling from the heavens like the wrath of Ancestors who had grown tired of mortal existence.
They smashed down upon the floating landmass of stone with impacts that cracked reality itself, each spear tearing through rock and barrier and flesh with equal ease. The sound was deafening, a constant thunder of destruction that made speech impossible and thought difficult.
And that was only half of the assault.
BOOM!
The Crimson Imperator had not been idle while his ally summoned his manifestation.
Jack’s bloodthirsty grin had only widened as he raised his massive greatsword, the weapon that seemed too large for any mortal to wield now blazing with crimson energy that leaked from its edges like flame from a furnace!
He waved it through the air with a grace that belied its enormous size, and as the blade moved, it left trails of power in its wake.
Cyclones of pure crimson Mana erupted from those trails, spinning vortexes of destruction that tore through the air toward the floating temple. Each cyclone was shaped like a dazzling crimson crescent moon, beautiful and deadly, their edges sharp enough to cut through anything they touched.
They joined the rain of spears in a combined assault that defied any reasonable defense.
It was terrifying.
It was utter devastation!
The sky itself seemed to bleed crimson and blue as the attacks thundered down upon the temple and its defenders.
The Saint of Stone waved her hand.
White Mana erupted from her palm in quantities that would have drained a dozen normal Warriors dry, condensing and shaping itself into forms that matched her will. Lotus petals. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Each one spinning with edges that could grind stone to dust, each one layered upon the others to form a barrier that intercepted the rain of death falling from above.
The petals met the spears and the crescents with impacts that shook the floating landmass to its foundations. They spun and ground and deflected, turning aside attacks that would have devastated entire tribes, stopping the vast majority of the assault through sheer density and rotation.
But it was two against one.
And even the Saint of Stone, even a being who had served the Covenant for centuries and whose power was legendary throughout the Lands of Stone, couldn’t be everywhere at once.
Some attacks passed through.
A crescent moon of crimson Mana slipped past her barrier on the left side, carving through three guards before they could even raise their weapons. Blood rushed up in fountains as bodies fell apart. A rain of spears found gaps in the spinning petals on the right, punching through armor and flesh with impacts that ended lives in instants!
Mutilated hands and limbs flew through the air, severed from bodies that crumpled without them.
Screams mixed with the thunder of continuing impacts.
And beneath it all, the floating landmass they stood upon began to groan with stress it was never designed to endure.
CRACK!
The sound was enormous, a breaking that seemed to come from the very heart of the stone that had carried them across the skies. The runes that had kept it aloft flickered and sputtered as the rock itself fractured, a great fissure running from one end to the other.
The landmass split in half.
Two pieces where there had been one, each beginning to tilt and fall as the Mana that had sustained them failed.
A storm of white, crimson, and blue raged through the air where the temple had floated, energies clashing and mixing in patterns that would have been beautiful if they weren’t so deadly. The lightning that had surrounded their sanctuary was overwhelmed by the greater powers now being unleashed, absorbed into the conflict and adding its own fury to the chaos.
When the storm cleared, when the dust and debris settled enough to see through, the devastation was complete.
Multiple bodies of guards floated in the skies momentarily, suspended by the residual Mana that still saturated the air around them. Some were whole. Many were not. All of them were dead or dying, their lives ended in the span of heartbeats by forces they had been powerless to resist.
Then gravity reasserted itself.
They fell.
Down toward the Lands of Stone far below, their bodies tumbling through open air like meteors trailing blood instead of fire. Some still clutched their weapons. Some still wore expressions of defiance that death hadn’t erased. All of them plummeted toward impacts that would scatter whatever remained of them across the unforgiving rocks.
And in the midst of this falling carnage, the figure of the Saint of Stone was seen holding the hand of the Holy Daughter as she bellowed out with a voice that cut through the chaos.
"On me!"
Her figure became surrounded by a cloud of white-blue Mana, the energy condensing beneath her feet and around her body to form a platform of flight. The remaining guards who could still move, those who had survived the initial assault with wounds that didn’t prevent motion, grabbed onto her or onto each other, forming a chain of survivors clustered around their leader.
The cloud began to fly out toward the distance, accelerating away from the shattered remains of their floating temple with speed born of desperation.
Nobody noticed that even though the Saint of Stone was seemingly holding onto the hand of the Holy Daughter, her gaze was actually fixed elsewhere.
Her stellar eyes, burning brighter than they had in decades, were locked onto a cluster of female guards who had seemingly been gravely injured and were falling toward the stones below!