[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/O34hemi.png[/img]

[sup][@Ariamis][@Asuras][@Shifter_Master][@Majoras End][@BrokenPromise][/sup][/center]

Was it coincidence, or planned? Even as more magical girls flooded the stage, Anaya’s magical assistance enabled the natural vocals and instrumentals of the Endsinger to be amplified, ringing brightly through the ruinous environment. As she synchronized with the music, the doll master felt an electrifying thrill, as if she were on the verge of awakening to a new, once-unknown dimension of artistry, and around her, the angry mob of verbally abusive ghosts nodded, shifting away to enjoy the concert once more.

Or, they tried to, if not for the fact that they were brutally eviscerated mere moments later, one of Feral’s clones lunging out from the spectral clouds in search of a heart that beat, of flesh that was still warm. The two tumbled into the concrete, but monstrously mighty as the beast was, they’d yet to sink their fangs or claws into Anaya, giving Celia an opportunity to intervene.

Upon Endsinger’s stage, chaos ran rampant too. Though the teamwork of the Ascendancy was perfect, even the most well-oiled gears could be disrupted by a wrench thrown from an outside source. In this case, of course, that wrench was a beaker filled with corrupted reinforcement magic. As Viva fired her magic bullets, causing a spray of magically-corrosive fluids, Fanfan descended, her mechanical gauntlets hyper-extending through that spray and subsequently being coated in it. The magical acid worked quickly, chewing into the metal, and the force of Fanfan’s landing was the hammer that shattered the birdcage’s integrity; mere moments after they struck the ground, the extended fingers broke. Fanfan fell, and what easier targets existed than one airborne and distracted? A pair of Ferals lunged for her, as the other three beasts converged upon the inverted bubble that Leena, Dawn and Endsinger was in.

Surrounded by blades and hostile intent, the lich grinned with predatory panache, her guitar-halberd flourishing as she sang on, strummed on. Even with her magic nullified, her own voice carried through, pitch-perfect and damn badass. Her eyes burned with soulfire, her voice caused banshees to quit, her focus was more singular than revenging revenants. And even in the face of the Ascendancy’s wrath, she simply added that to her performance too.

[b]“Not a witch, girl,”[/b] the lich said, tossing her hair in Dawn’s direction, [b]“a fucking [i]star[/i].”[/b]

And in that moment, Leena ran her through, drilling swords tearing a hole into Endsinger’s chest. Like a blender, putrefied flesh splattered everywhere, coating the mountain of rubble black and red. But there was no despair, no anger from the audience. After all, what was the point of a heart, for a being that had already died?

The dual-wielding swordswoman had driven her blades hilt deep into Endsinger’s torso, and now, the lich pushed the swords in even further, until Leena’s very arms were buried inside Endsinger’s body. A pleasant coolness spread through Leena’s arms, none of the grotesqueness of visceral violence seeping from ruined flesh. And perhaps that was certainly the case, because, with a daredevil smirk, Endsinger grabbed the back of her head, pulled her close, tore her mask off with her teeth and kissed her deep. The passion of a woman loved for centuries in the underworld. The exaltation of a performer who finally resolved to bring her music into the light. Endsinger bent her backwards, swords still sticking out the lich’s back, and with an almost too-casual movement, raised her guitar up as well.

There was no ring of clanging steel as Dawn’s greatsword smashed against it. Rather, it had been aligned at just the right angle for the blade to snag against the strings, unleashing an epic riff that sent the spectral fanclub wild.

It wasn’t monstrous strength, undead resilience, or ancient magics that they should have feared.

It was her utter disregard for anything that [i]they[/i] wanted.