"Form V: Crimson Guillotine!"
The sky ignited.
But Serika felt it instantly; the stifling weight of corruption, wrong and rotting. The air around God Venthros shimmered like a fever dream, saturated with corrupted flame. The very act of burning felt… forbidden. Her fire met resistance, not from wind or water, but from something deeper. The god's very presence was a flame-devouring void.
Her qi sputtered as she neared him.
The searing aura leaking off his skin made her insides twist. Her own crimson blaze started to flicker. The guillotine—her strongest attack—was beginning to unravel.
No.
She gritted her teeth, forcing her core to churn harder.
Pain flared down her spine. Blood rushed in her ears. Still, she pushed forward. Because someone had to. Because this thing shouldn't be allowed to keep existing. Because many innocents have suffered. Because her father had bled.
