FVN Chapter 216 Alexandra of House Vero [II]
Chapter 216 Alexandra of House Vero [II]
"Stats! I want to see everything you have on this... Alexandra. Show me." Rafel ordered Peitho. And his subservient infernal system, S.I.N.S, pinged up a bright gold screen before his leopard-amber eyes.
It showed his request in bright fonts under the waning, evening sun.
[Opponent name: Alexandra Italia Vaughn, Sixth of Her Name.]
[Species: Demiurges, the Wiccan Creatures.]
[ Opalpyre Clan ]
[Title: Princess of the Seventh Realm Plains.]
[Chosen weapon: Battleaxe, NAESAVRUM.]
[Rank: S, Supernatural.]
[Magus Class: Mistress Witch, Third Year.]
[Arc: THE RAVEN.] Stay connected with empire
"She really named her battleaxe 'no savior'?" Rafel quipped; he was looking up at the slot on his system's view screen naming this damsel. Nae Savrum meant No Savior in the ancient aijallon languages of the druids. "—that is unsavory."
Despite his slight cynicism, Rafel knew that if his system had considered Alexandra's name worth mentioning, then she was a real threat. He stared straight out from the jutting graystone steps of the Citadel's entrance as the system's panel fizzed out with her information. Rafel bit on his lip.
A bunch of girls passed him by the tower's cobbled steps. And one of them sneered at his maroon shirt doublet and the insignia of the mystical firebird.
"Phoenix is going down tonight."
Rafel said nothing to the girl's playful jibe, and she and her friends went onwards giggling at the look on handsome face and turning back every now and then to catch his citrus-colored iris, until they were out of sight. They took the bend amongst the sliver towers to the amphitheater. Rafel could already hear the pre-clash tumult of the gathering, eager for the finals to kickoff.
He said aloud to Peitho, "I am the seventh born incarnate of Hel in the whole damn world... and I am still only a Rank-A. Tell me something, how the fuck did she get to be a Rank S, huh?"
He was talking about Alexandra.
Peitho promptly replied after scouring though her literal universe of data.
[Pardon, Apollyon, but the answer you seek is currently locked and unavailable for present status. Host cannot access these files. But I can offer this as a comfort: Alexandra has not being in the supernatural tier for long; we can use this to our advantage.]
[This information screen is granted to Host by his ability as Ascended Warlock, 2nd Hel Circle!]
[1 000 soul coins used!]
[Helworth: 1.3 Billion.]
Then Rafel asked again. "I don't even know the names of the other gladiators at the Clash of Swords tonight?"
[Ding!]
[Your other adversaries pose no real friction on the battlefield. They are mere extras. And if I may, my Lord host, I think you shall prove yourself on the sands against the demiurgan female.]
Alexandra of House Vero—and she was made of the gods.
Her patrons had to be [Juventas] and [Smutba] for sure.
She was a princess. A maiden. And a whore.
His demonic [mana core] surged with the need to dominate just in looking at her. To have her [Conquest Ring]. She had that WoW! That allure. Therefore the resonating sexiness—and definitely the matching pow! He found himself saying aloud,
"Alexandra..."
The girl was in all black. Her armor total Raven. She turned.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"Uh?"
Rafel was saved by the Pontus of the Game's voice; he heralded forward the contenders in a tone worthy of mortal combat: "BEHOLD CORYNTHIA, YOUR GLADIATORS!!!"
"Yeaahhh!" Multitudes cheered. And out from a sliding bronze gate the four swordsmen—and swordswomen piled out.
From then on, things were pretty straightforward.
The Ludus maker gave her pairings, in this case the Headmistress obviously.
[Israfel the Bloodthirsty Vs Saul the Gaul]
[Alexandra of House Vero Vs Blue the Bonebreaker]
Rafel thanked the Underworld gods he got the pompous Griffin first. The Gaul admittedly did put up a fight on the sands, but Rafel had been fighting the most part of his life, Maulers and fucking Grim Reapers. The Gaul attacked with [Spear of Anarchy], hurling forward his javelin with terrible speed. It split into a distaff and rocketed toward Rafel's head in a cloud of gold-green fire.
With [Umbra Shield], Rafel swallowed the flames, engulfing the spear in his shadows. He didn't have to lift his longsword as he hurled the weapon of consequence back at the Gaul. Saul managed to move his head back but the butt of the spear still caught him in the jaw.
Thwack! It echoed.
And it was enough for Rafel to move in with an upraised [Bloodthorn] and send the sanguine blade of death into his adversary's stomach. Guts oozed forth with a hissing, but Rafel intentionally missed all the major organs.
'Even braggart pricks should learn from their folly,' Peitho cajoled him to spare the Gaul's life.
He had barely pulled [Bloodthorn] from Saul's bleeding entrails when he heard a sharp shout from his rear. It hit him with a deafening shockwave. Rafel was thrown off the Gaul by the piercing vocal fury. He dragged back on the sands, digging his sandals into blood-soaked earth as waves of rolling sound rippled across the arena, threatening to remove him from his feet.
He managed to peer through one eye at the witch behind the auditory spell.
It was Alexandra; she was using two vices: [Scream of Banshee] and [Wailing Storm].
A vortex of sound energy shrouded in massive blackness tossed off the other two gladiators to the far reaches of the vast arena. Saul the Gaul hit his head, fainting instantly from loss of blood and blunt trauma to his cranium. And Blue was missing an eye. She too lay on her side, discarded like a sac of wet clothes—only she was wet with blood.
Alexandra had finished off the Bonebreaker too.
With the giantess and the Gaul out of the fight, the Clash was left to Israfel the Bloodthirsty and the Princess of the Plains.