[h1]Rider[/h1] [h2]The Winter Palace[/h2] Rider held her breath as the projectiles tore through the air toward the charging viking. Several of the weapons sparked harmlessly against the unstoppable force of Berserker’s club, but even a force of nature such as he could not overcome the sheer volume of the attack. Blades found flesh, and the indomitable warrior dropped to the ground, still glaring at the Empress. Catherine let out a shaky breath. At this range it was clear just how pale and exhausted she looked. Despite the glittering exterior of imperial confidence, she had clearly been pushed to her limits. The arm Berserker’s club had shattered earlier still hung limply at her side. Her remaining arm weakly gripped the hilt of her borrowed broadsword, its rusted blade shivering slightly as she held it aloft. As she stared at her fallen opponent, she noticed the change in her opponent. The mad warrior had seemed unstoppable earlier, a crystallization of unbridled rage and destruction… but something had weakened him. The Empress’ golden eyes surveyed the fallen titan before her. Whatever had sapped his strength, it had almost certainly saved her. The glittering gems of Catherine’s crown began to dim and rapidly fade away. Her eyes flickered from a brilliant gold to a cool silver, peering into the furious coals that still burned in Berserker’s visage. She dared not move for fear of dropping on the spot. The last assault had drained her more than she’d predicted, and she could feel her sense becoming dulled by the second. She slowly lowered the shaking blade, drawing in a ragged breath. “Farewell, Heathen King.” The Empress’ gaze slowly drifted from her fallen opponent, looking back toward the crowd that had nervously watched the commotion behind her. Turning her head, she gave them a weak smile. Even in her exhausted state, there was something reassuring in her smile, a warmth that inspired the heart and soothed even the fiercest of anxieties. She watched as the worried faces began to form into nervous smiles and looks of amazement. Unfortunately, these smiles were not to last. The eyes of the crowd shot open in a unified expression of abject terror. Rider turned in time to see the risen Berserker dashing forward, but not in time to avoid his outstretched hand. “KORONA VECH-” The true name of her crown died in her throat, a faint flicker of energy all she was able to draw in before her opponent cut her off. Savage fingers clenched around her throat. Her lungs burned, starving for air as her feet raised from the palace floor. Desperation ran through every vein like molten iron. Her feet kicked at empty air in futile protest. The pitted blade of the broadsword hacked wildly at the madman’s rigid arm as hot blood began to pool in her throat. Her silver eyes fought desperately against the smothering darkness that was rapidly clouding them. Numbness arced through her limbs like lightning. Her head buzzed wildly, and the ringing in her ears only grew more excruciating by the moment. Fingers tightened around her throat like an iron vice. Her vision blurred. Again, she raked the broadsword out at Berserker’s flesh. The hilt slipped from her hand. Borrowed steel clattered to the ground. Weak fingers clawed at the hand that gripped her throat. The voice that echoed in her head was only vaguely familiar in her shuddering mind. [i]“Master… help…”[/i]