The Accuser
He ignored her first question. It's not like it was important anyways.
Nah. He's actually getting weaker. Can't you tell? The problem is... you might be dying kiddo.
And it was at that point that she could notice the blood pouring out from where her body and the arm of light connected. It wasn't that his movements were getting stronger or faster. Her body was growing weaker and weaker by the second.
Darkness and light were opposites, the alpha to the omega. The power of light could certainly give her victory, but it came at the cost of cancelling her very existence out. Every time she wielded this power, it consumed her. And she wasn't used to this strain, there was no way she could keep up with the light's overwhelming power. Basically, this whole fight had devolved into a damned if I do damned if I don't.
You can't beat an ancient being like that by just swinging me around like a club. Remember those chains of light? That was my work missy, but it won't do any good for you. You need to wield the light, make it your own.
Either die to the bastard in front of her, or beat him and succumb to the light either way. End of the line, no other option. That was the fate she shouldered for daring defying fate. So now, she had no reason to complain. The cards were already dealt, and it just happened that her hand was too poor to keep playing.
I will be whatever you want me to be. But whether the light will shine on your corpse or his.... well, that's up to you isn't it?
In the meanwhile, the dark reflection of Asmael reclaimed his scythe, and dragged the blade down the ground while he slowly walked. Soon, it would be her guillotine.
"Do you have any last words, sinner?"