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New tricks for old corpses, hm? As Amaryllis rebounded over and over, slicing bits of Billy off, the necromancer shed his wounds and regenerated just as quickly. Minuscule wounds such as the ones that she inflicted wouldn’t be sufficient at impacting his mana reserves, and without a ‘seed’ within him, her other moves wouldn’t take root either.

Worse though, was that the muscle-lich had taken ahold of Mariette during this exchange. With an ally taken hostage, it became even more difficult to score meaningful victories. In a normal, bleeding human being, a victory could be secured by slicing one centimeter deep, to cut open an artery, or by stabbing three centimeters deep, to pierce an organ. But against the unbleeding, regenerating monster before her? With his constant rotations, Amaryllis couldn’t get in fast enough to deal a lasting mark, and with Mariette in his grasp, she couldn’t go for a thrust either.

All she did was hold onto the portal-summoner’s plushie, latching it to her back with some chains, as she continued her flurry of shallow blows, weaving in and out of the range of the lich’s improvised weapons.

She would wait. Wait, and trust that Mariette had her own answer.

Turns out, she did.

A radiant eruption of energy seared through the cold, gray day, roaring out of the portal mage’s mirror into the lich’s arm. At the same time, Sophia had committed to her own angle of attack, wings splayed as she drove her heavy axe towards Billy’s shoulder, as if to cleave him in half diagonally. In the brilliance of those strikes, Amaryllis leapt in as well, rebounding off a silvered bud from the opposite side that Sophia had attacked. It was the same speed as every other one of her skirmishing slashes, the same distance too, so that the tip of her Sword would bite one centimeter deep into the flesh of the undead.

But her magic reminded her Sword of the great form it once held, when it feasted upon a Behemoth.

And oh, did it enjoy that sensation.

A moment before the silvered blade scraped the top of Billy’s skull, Amaryllis’s sword grew in size, the saber transforming to a zweihander fit for cleaving through bone and brain. Would such a brutish weapon still be suitably elegant? 

Of course it’d be; the Knight of Rose could make any visceral spray artistic.