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The sky puckered, like a pond's surface breaking to a thrown stone, and the metally smell of ozone flushed the air.  Clenching her fist around the paradox she'd prepared in her hand, Verga flicked through spacetime, just as the heavens opened up with a undulating drum of ker-cracking.  The place where she'd just stood bulged and exploded with lightning, barely missing the vanished Verga.

"CAN YOU FEEL MY POWER?" roared the Emperor.  Though the lightning quickly dissipated, the air continued to heave and wobble, like a beaten tuning fork.  Nature itself was struck dizzy and delirious.

It had been as predictable as a traffic light, of course, Verga expected nothing less after tackling the Emperor and then taking the time to talk and vent, but there wasn't any consolation in that.  Even knowing from a mile away an attack would be coming, the split-second force of the lightning had forced Verga to peel apart the dimensions just to avoid it.  [i]My last get-out-of-jail card,[/i] she thought grimly, as she slipped back into reality behind the Emperor and felt some lilting power fizzle and die from her molecules.  Stretching her muscles and skimming her mental checklist, it seemed, for the time being, Verga had lost access to all her shields.  She'd have to make due with swords.

[I]Foolish, arrogant human...[/I]  Privately, Verga had been glad the Emperor ignored her words in favor showboating.  Privately, she was glad for every drop of shallowness and ugliness and foolishness and arrogance Daichi had thrown back at her.  The simplicity of a brawl with a king on a power trip, the sticky, tar-like joy of gorging her spite—this made sense to Verga.  Nothing in the world made sense, except for this.  Verga felt as though she'd come home after a very, very long day in the woods.  Wasting no time, she surged into action, her every move fueled by the sharp, charged-up energy of pure cold malice, and the terrifying might of the Emperor was like arms stretched out in welcome.

The Emperor's bellowing challenge had seemed to invite a response, or at least a quip, but clever quipping and mid-fight wordplay all struck Verga as distinctly gouchey.  And anyways, trying to exercise her sarcasm muscles always brought Verga no small amount of frustration.  Her only response, upon reappearing behind the Emperor, was instant, silent aggression, hurling an enormous axe-head of bright blue time straight at the Emperor's back.  Dodging and blocking was a game she couldn't play for long, but maybe if she could slow him down...