CHAPTER 52: A’S ENDGAME 6 (SOULS)

The moon offered light so dim Elara could barely see. It was as if the moon itself had withdrawn from the chaotic presence of the earth.

Elara’s heart beat hard within her chest, not just because she was standing on opposite sides with her comrade, but because she knew there was only one way out—and that was the hell of a decision to make.

"Tch," she hissed, back-stepping to dodge Natasha’s charging punch. "I’m lucky those cute eyes of hers weren’t reserved. That would’ve gotten into my head too easily."

"Arghhh!" she gasped immediately, pain shooting from her back ankle. She wiggled her leg as if trying to shake off a flesh-eating mouse.

A miniature stick-man fell from her leg, the size of a board marker, with the same color as Natasha’s skin.

It was a fragment of Natasha’s hand—Nora had manipulated Natasha to donate it while Elara was still wallowing in woe.

"Disrespectful pest," Natasha snarled, hopping on one leg as she attempted to crush the stick-man with a rock that rose from the ground, carried by invisible forces. But the real Natasha struck again, this time more precise and faster. Elara ducked below it and back-stepped.

She had fought Natasha one-on-one for more than hours before, so most of Natasha’s moves she already knew. And now it was even easier—it wasn’t Natasha’s will but a subconscious body controlled by someone who still had about five hundred puppets in her deck.

"That’s it!" Elara smirked, eyes widening. "If I go on the offense rather than defense, she might not be able to keep up."

She smiled, immediately seizing the opportunity to strike Natasha with a punch. But Natasha entered a well-protected stance that already countered her move. Yet what really was Elara’s move?

Her hand stopped midair, fist poised for a punch—facing directly at Natasha. From behind Elara, a rock flew with massive momentum, crashing toward Natasha’s crossed arms held in defense.

BOOM.

It struck, splitting the rock in two and leaving scratches on Natasha’s arm. She skidded backwards—no blood, no pain, no hesitation. Before she could recover, Elara appeared in front of her, punching straight to the nose. Still, no blood.

Natasha’s expression was pale, her eyes so dark Elara didn’t know if she was even seeing at all.

"Damn your fucking immortality! I have a clan to save!" Elara roared, sending more and more punches into Natasha’s face, each more furious than the last. But all too soon, she was exhausted with nothing to show for it—nothing achieved.

Whatever wounds were inflicted healed instantly. Bones shifted back into place like fluid.

"Damn!" Elara cursed, back-stepping and breathing heavily as sweat crawled down her temple.

"Hmph," Nora hummed, still pacing in her awkward dance under the moonlight.

Elara’s head twisted immediately to the smile curving at the edge of Nora’s mouth. Terrifying as it was, the last time she saw that smile, something dreadful happened. What could it be this time?

Splash!

The sound of liquid hitting the hard ground cut through her cautious thoughts, forcing her gaze to shift again.

A smile appeared on her lips, but it hid dread. "You’ve got to be kidding me," she giggled, taking cautious steps backwards.

Natasha had deformed into liquid—and that wasn’t all. She was shifting into the least stable state of matter—gas.

The liquid staining the grass began evaporating, saturating the air. First it lingered in place, then it drifted toward Elara in tight, controlled streams, no longer weak or random.

"No other option. No other option!" Elara exclaimed, fear screaming through her being.

She stomped her foot to the ground—whether by instinct or by will—and a pillar of earth jutted upward like a shield between her and the gas. But the vapor simply floated around its side.

"No, please... that obliteration from the inside... I made that plan," Elara rasped as her pace turned into a pathetic run, the gas chasing behind her like yellow clouds of curses.

She ran, half screaming for her life while circling the pillar. Somewhere in that desperate flight, her ominisight eyes flicked open. Nora’s smile widened, believing she was in control—but—

"Let’s see who’s in control," Elara whispered.

She looked—with the eyes that saw beyond the original.

And she was.

"Well played," she whispered, eyes fixed on the pillar, where chains twisted around its base. Chains she had falsely woven under the disguise of fear.

"Fool," Nora snarled, not Elara. The gas shifted, curving to bracket Elara from the front. But—squeak—

The chains held it back, making the gases spark in unstable revelation. For a second, Natasha’s pale face was visible within them.

Elara smiled, though bitter tears slid from her eyes.

"I’m sorry, Natasha. I never wanted any of this. I wanted us to fight and still laugh but..." she whispered, ducking beneath the gas. She hesitated a second, then did it.

She broke the chain—completely separating body from soul.

Natasha’s body reformed, falling to the ground, motionless—freed from the curse, but also freed from her soul.

At the same time, Elara’s eyes shifted to Nora. Now she could see the valves of wind flashing around her, the souls under her control. Among them, Natasha’s soul levitated, gaze fixed skyward, broken chains trailing her path.

"Rest in peace," Elara whispered.

But before Nora’s anger could even surface, Elara stomped her foot again. A giant earth-knife fired from the ground, cracking against the multiple chains that bound goblin souls to their bodies far in the elven and demon clans. Chains snapped one by one, souls freed. She stomped her other foot again, launching a rock upward that struck the earth-knife, adding momentum until it broke through all the bindings, setting the souls free—like curtains rising from around Nora.

"Soon enough..." Elara whispered. "I’ll join you, Natasha."

"What have you done!" Nora shrieked, eyes bulging, teeth gnashing furiously.

"You’ll pay! No—you can’t even pay! That was just one soul!" she screamed, dragging her claws down her own face until the flesh tore open. "You—you ruined my master’s plan!"

In a blink, she appeared before Elara, every detail of her being reflecting pure rage. Her blow struck Elara’s chest, sending her sprawling back, coughing blood.

"Bye, Lord Allen," Elara whispered, barely standing under the searing pain. She didn’t resist—she accepted every consequence Nora had to offer.

"Father! I guess your clan is safe now," she smirked faintly as Nora roared, sending her flying with another brutal blow.

It became a sequence of chaos. Elara didn’t fight back for even a second—until it radiated.

Light shone from the midnight sky. And not just any light, but divine light that burned away the darkness within Nora.

She screamed as her body began fading, even as warmth wrapped itself around Elara.

Elara’s vision blurred, but through it she saw a feminine figure descending with the light.

"Who are you?" Elara whispered, lying flat on the ground, chest heaving as her gaze lifted to the sky.

"I am Tamara," the figure replied softly. And she had not come alone.

She had come with Natasha’s soul.