Methuselah
The dark one didn't respond to the fae calling out for him, and even when she poked him, he didn't look like much more than a hollow husk. That is, until his eyes suddenly rolled back at her, like two rubies signaling her defeat.
Got you.
What came immediately at the same time were spears erupting from beneath the two. There was no escape, he had stopped his own heartbeat and lured her under these trees. The games of Gods were often this complex, she had erred in underestimating him due to the gap in raw combat experience and physical prowess.
Ironically, even the sunlight was on his side, expanding the shadows to stretch them far beneath his foe. But none of this mattered, because she had made the mistake of leaving herself wide open, there was no way to escape so many shades any longer. Bound by the impaling blades, the idea of her using that blade to free herself was an absurdity.
She might struggle, but he would never let her escape.
"I told you, you can't kill me." He said in a blasé manner of fact before rising. It seemed their roles were reversed, but not quite. He had taken some heavy damage, even the shadows he conjured inside him to repair his broken body would not suffice. You could tell his body was beginning to crumble, but it wasn't enough to stop him. The arrows fell from his body and vanished, revealing dark tendrils writhing out of his own wounds.
Despite his pants and difficulty to stand, he respected her enough to refuse to fall here and now. Simply put, his own shadow was puppeteering his shell, keeping his wounds from spilling his vitality while letting him stand tall.
The ability to shape and mold darkness as one pleases, while it wasn't the most potent or destructive ability, its true terrifying nature came from its versatility. Such a man could easily keep an army alive by kneading their wounds with shadow. Ah, but he was no man now was he?
Well, just because I won't die from something doesn't mean it can't hurt. He thought, but did not speak. The truth is, he was only keeping himself alive, the damage he had been dealt was very real. But despite the pain she had inflicted, in his eyes, there was no harshness or cruelty, only earnest praise and admiration.
"That was a magnificent blade. To be able to bypass any ability and carve the soul itself, regardless of strength or durability. To think such a terrible weapon would force me to use such trickery. If you so wished for it, you could easily cut through the peaceful life I so desperately seek. Rafalia, you are the strongest spear. However-"
You have taught me the value of my life. For that, I thank you. He thought in earnest. Had she shown any less mercy, he would be the loser in this. It was exactly because of that that he could not show her any less, he would finish this with his true power. He presented his palm to her, slowly but surely bringing his hand closer to her kidney.
"This- is my spear."
A jet black tar-like aura ripped out of his hand, and in but a few seconds, something devoured her without pity, rending her flesh and bone into nothing upon contact, devouring her left hip and anything in between. The spears and the tendrils covering his wounds vanished, and while she was thrown back, he simply fell on his knees.
