She knew she couldn’t keep it up forever, even with Dominion.
The gods must have been watching after all, because she noticed Grigori approaching at the corner of her eyes. And she wasn’t the only one who did. The elementalist turned his attention away from her, wasting his time taunting the nobleman. He stopped attacking her, directing the elements to hone in at Grigori instead.
That was his last mistake.
A split second was all she needed to shoot out her duplicates. The first blade sank into his thigh, then his arm, then his stomach. When he fell, another found its way to his shoulder and impaled him on the ground.
Credit where it’s due, the elementalist impressively still had the strength to fight through the pain. An orb of congealed dirt and stone formed surprisingly fast and launched towards her.
She raised Iratallin and Dawnstrife, her aether surging into the two swords and slashed through the large projectile. Its broken fragments flew by her, cutting across her face and skin but she ignored it. Veriel leapt forward until she was standing over the imperial, a foot pressed down on his torso.
Veriel pointed the pact sword at his face and Lionel’s eyes widened. Before he could protest, the elf let its point nick his cheek - the slightest cut you would get if you scratch your face too hard. Her curse immediately took hold. The lacerations began from his face, traveling down as howled and thrashed on the ground.
It was a second later that she realized that maybe it would have been more beneficial to keep him alive a bit, perhaps question him even. But considering how much blood was draining out of him, that was neither here nor there. It was done and he was dead. However the Imperium got the information, it only meant one thing: she needed to move.
Fortunately, it didn’t take long until Lionel made no sound at all.
Veriel started walking towards Grigori as the vitality of Dominion started to bleed out of her. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice hoarse. The elementalist had thrown him pretty roughly.
The pain in her shoulder hit her first, the arrowhead shifting in her shoulder with every breath she took. Her feet were heavier than boulders and her body swayed. Before she could reach the nobleman, the siltori fell to her knees, her legs stubbornly refusing to work. She let out a mirthless laugh. Guess this was what she got for being out of action for too long. It was embarrassing, honestly. Her former companions would have teased her if they could see her like this.
For the first time, Veriel took a clear look at her unexpected ally. At most, the man was probably in mid-twenties. His techniques were solid, but it was clear he just started his journey with reaving. A handsome and reckless, ready to throw himself into danger. He would’ve fitted in well with the dawnmartyrs. “You could have gotten yourself killed, you know,” Veriel pointed out, slowly trying to catch her breath. “But thank you, Grigori al Myros. Things would have gotten a lot worse if it wasn’t for you.”