Do you think it's possible to kill a Goddess?

It's a question I've wondered at over many years, and one that I'm not sure of the answer to even now. After much contemplation though, I've come to think that Gods do not walk the face of Karridor, you do not see the humans, or elves, or Celestials worshiping living breathing Gods – those that would claim such are always, inevitably, outed as charlatans. So personally, I've come to believe, that if I can see it – if it can be sitting in front of me for years on end with an idiot smile – it is not a God.

Even if there are monuments built in its image. Even if worshipers flock to its side unendingly. Even if the religious Order that carriers its banner is the single most powerful and influential political group in the nation in which they both dwell. It is still not a God. Merely a King, or Queen – as the case may be. And those that flock around it are but fools, taken in by a deception on the grandest scale, a nation of idiots – led by their Idiot Queen.

…

…

…

The idiot queen has disappeared. I got one last fleeting glimpse of her as she disappeared beneath that glossy black dome – still wearing her idiot smile. She left us all to die. As expected perhaps, we did greet her with weapons bared – but even if we hadn't I imagine the outcome wouldn't have changed. Alexandria has little regard for those of us that scurry at her feet.

Around me the nine remaining member of the High Chorus are fighting frantically, swords ringing, blasts of light and heat exploding against the thorns and brambles of this new enemy. Gorfane is heavy in my hand. I stare down at it, the naked blade glimmers in the dying light of day, and I wonder how everything could have gone so wrong. How many years have I labored for this day? Slowly, carefully, patiently I pushed things toward this inevitable conclusion.

And for what?

She was no more aware of me today than five hundred years ago when I led the Chorus to her Throne. My eyes trace the edge of my blade, sheathed in my peculiar null mana, I was confident when I set out that – had I managed to stab her with this blade today, managed to gouge the heart from her chest – she would have died like any other demon. Only now does the ridiculousness of that sentiment settle upon me. I may as well have tried to use my sword to cut one of the stars from the sky – so great is the distance between us.

How long? How long to learn what I have learned? A Demon King is uniquely poised to learn of the weaknesses of their “Goddess” but even that took years. To pierce the barrier of a Goddess – just how much work do you think goes into such an endeavor? To learn and walk the path of the Whispering Heart, that only the greatest Grandmasters of the Celestial Chorus had an inkling of, to devote myself – body and soul – for hundreds of years to its perfection. Its mastery.

And none of it mattered.

Even when my blade was an inch from her heart – I was never for a moment reflected in her eyes. You need only look to that lazy idiot smile that did not falter for a moment in our contest to confirm that fact. All because, no matter how close I got to her – an inch or a mile or a millimeter – the gulf between us was still insurmountably wide. Only one of us didn't realize that obvious fact. What, after all, is five hundred years of slavish devotion, when weighed against someone like her? Maybe if I had five thousand – the gap might narrow – but it's obvious now, I don't have that kind of time.

Because something has unexpectedly risen up, something I did not account for when I drew up my plans to lay low the Goddess of demons – all those years ago. I do not regret my decision. For a demon, the climb is the most important facet of our existence – that endless and bloody struggle, crawling up by your fingertips over the incompetent scum all around you. Over the entrenched Demon Lords and their petty factions and rivalries, over family and friends, allies and enemies, until you can stand confidently atop the whole wretched pile.

For I, who had climbed that distance. Put down every threat to my power, starting with my own sister, I found the top to be simultaneously empty – and intolerable. For though I was called Demon King by the incompetent masses, revered and respected, there was another – still higher existence. The Idiot Queen, who looked down at all of us – bleeding and dying and fighting for scraps – from her Throne. I challenge anyone to blame me. There are almost none left who even know and certainly none left that care – but my actions were entirely justified.

That they seem to have prompted some sort of apocalypse is just bad luck.

And it is some sort of apocalypse, if the last few centuries of fighting against Aurora's “Unbound” did not convince me of that – the scene before me now certainly does. Hal'Trinneth, one of the few remaining bastions of Celestial power is being destroyed before my eyes. Already the citizens are abandoning it – the air is thick with evacuating Celestials, those too old or too young to be of use against The Encroachment mostly – flying high into the air, away from the massive floating island which has been firmly anchored to the ground by a massive bridge of plant matter that formed seemingly from nowhere.

Very few warriors of the Chorus are actually present today – gathering the entirety of the High Chorus in one place left gaping vulnerabilities in battlelines across the world that Aurora attempted to compensate for by deploying the Chorus far and wide, taking the place of exceptional individuals such as myself with the weight of numbers. As a consequence of that – and of the systematic extermination the Celestials have faced in recent decades – the massive flying cities have bare minimal amounts of troops, being one of the only places really safe from the Unbound. So when attacked directly – the citizens have little choice but to evacuate.

Before my eyes that bridge is thickening, huge ropes of brambles and vines wrapping around themselves, burrowing into the side of the island and rooting themselves there. A few brave fools from the city flew out and attempted to sever that bridge in the opening moments of this fight – seeing their corpses pinned to the side of the thing serves as a grim reminder of the futility of that course of action. Even I with my blade and all my skill could not dislodge that massive Unbound from Hal'Trinneth. You need only look to the High Chorus to see the complete hopelessness of the situation.

They are all fighting – bravely, valiantly, but without much success. Their magic is ineffective, not completely so – but ineffective. The sacred spheres conjured by their Amulet's of Seriah are being pierced in seconds, the strongest armor of the Chorus offering almost no protection at all. Though I just extracted him from the clutches of the Unbound creature, Mikeal has already been recaptured – his body wrapped in vines – and with him two of the others have also been ensnared. White fire dances along the entangling roots but to no effect.

“Alaina!” Aurora shouts. “Help us!”

Wordlessly I spring into action, rejoining the formation and aiding them as they desperately repel the Unbound tendrils targeting them. My blade dances before me, opening a path – as it always has – cutting back the unending tide.

This. This speaks to the hopelessness of of our situation.

I spin in the air, unleashing a dozen strikes in seemingly random directions – each one finding some errant bit of plant life and sending it tumbling to the ground, a nearly two hundred feet below. Using senses honed for hundreds of years, judging by displaced currents of air and the mildly uncomfortable feeling all Unbound radiate to guide my blade. But even as a dozen are cut down two dozen more are slipping up and around me. With unspoken agreement the remaining six members of the High Chorus rise still higher, abandoning those below to their fates in a bid for self-preservation.

This is what The Chorus has been reduced to – our best and brightest, our finest warriors – forced into a losing battle where the only goal is survival. The citizenry of Hal'Trinneth completely left to their own devices. Peripherally I am aware that that is not panning out well for those unfortunate souls – mostly unarmed civilians are being picked out of the air left and right. I'm sure the sight has Aurora's heart bleeding.

Another wave of thorny brambles. A wall of brown and green and angry purple – three hundred feet off the ground – rises in front of us. We're almost level with the top of the Unbound tree now. The sky is dark – the sun blotted out by brown and green – far below us even that glossy black dome has disappeared, buried under what must be tons of plant life. Perhaps she will die here as well – that would be a …satisfactory conclusion. Not as satisfying as personally cutting her heart from her chest but in these final moments of my life – I'll take what I can get.

As my sword slices through another questing vine, I feel another one smash through my recently regenerated wing, barbs and thorns securing it to my body. An inevitability. There are just too many – on all sides, moving with such speeds – impossible to maintain perfect evasion. Aurora and the others are already rising – still higher – leaving me and the other captured warriors to our fate. I don't bother trying to follow them with my eyes, opting instead to just keep swinging my blade. I cut myself free only to be immediately recaptured, that cycle repeats a dozen times until the damage becomes overwhelming, outpacing even my inhuman regeneration – leaving me unable to cut myself free again.

Still I swing my sword. Cutting back vines and brambles – even as thorny roots dig into my thighs, my wings, one even reaching up for my throat. So many years perfecting a fighting style perfectly optimized for destroying a single opponent – severing my connection to magic almost entirely in the process – has left me helpless in this situation. A grim sort of irony. Suddenly pain wracks my right hand – it twitches and spasms, releasing my sword.

I watch helplessly as the blade disappears into the wall of plants surrounding me. Grim despair rising in my chest.

I don't want to die.

I am special. I was Chosen. I was the Demon King! The whole world has trembled in the wake of my actions. This. This is not how I die! Gritting my teeth I try once more for freedom – flexing every muscle in my body against the vines imprisoning me. And to my surprise, it works. I break out of the cocoon of plants that had surrounded me, barbs and thorns tearing through me as I rip free. Once out, unable to fly, I immediately plummet toward the ground.

As I fall I can see why I was able to escape. The tree is burning. The wild overgrowth the High Chorus was struggling so desperately against has burst into flame, a spontaneous combustion of green fire. I see a few other cocoons of plant life hanging in the air as I fall, and see Celestials emerging from the rapidly blackening and charring pods – battered but alive. It's as if I'm falling through a fiery spiderweb – all around me branches and vines that had been moving with purpose have stopped and ignited, slowly burning away.

It seems demonic fire is effective. The thought crosses my mind dully as my body slams into the ground. Pain wracks me, dozens of wounds crying out at the impact, but I'm durable enough to survive a fall. Even so, I just lie there for a moment – staring up into the sky, obscured by hanging lines of fire which criss cross everywhere running to and fro above me, there is a kind of beauty to it. It seems I've been rescued. I can feel the bile rising in the back of my throat at the thought. Discordant emotions flashing across my normally serene mind. Anger. Disgust. A black and boiling hatred creeping up.

So I take a moment. Center myself. Find my peace – as the Whispering Heart teaches. After about thirty seconds I've regained my equilibrium enough to stand. There is a gathering of people maybe thirty feet from where I fell – but I ignore them – instead I muster all my calm, all my serenity, and walk to where my blade had fallen. It lays there in the dirt, forlorn and abandoned, until I bend down and – with a certain reverence – reclaim it. Gorfane is one of the few blades said to have power enough. Power enough to strike down a God.

Holding the sword, as I've held it literally millions of times before, I run my thumb down the well-worn leather wrapping its hilt. Reflecting on the absurdity of that premise. No matter how strong the sword, to kill a God one must drive home the blade – is there any arm that could manage such a feat? Perhaps. It was not until my third strike that Alexandria began to take me the least bit seriously. That arrogance could be her death. If the opportunity arises.

With a casual movement I sheathe the blade, turning to join the small gathering on the plains outside Shadfer. The human Hero Mattis and his party are there, Aurora and six members of the High Chorus as well, and standing in the center of them all – wearing her familiar vapid smile – stands the idiot queen. My eyes trace her body as I quietly take my position behind Aurora – she is as beautiful and perfect as the last time I saw her, an impossibly flawless beauty that somehow dominates the assembled Heroes and Kings with her mere presence – despite being probably the shortest person in attendance the feeling she is looking down on us all is palpable.

It's funny. Even when she is here, out on the battlefield, she looks so indifferent, so unengaged. When she sat on her Throne she was little more than a living statue, a perfect and unmoving beauty – the Sun which drew all manner of fools into her orbit – and here she is much the same. Her stance is regal, she never shifts from one foot to the other or coughs or stretches, she just stares us down, immobile – with her little half smile. I can see that presence she radiates is drawing in these fools as well – though Aurora has spent centuries decrying the evils of the Demon God, here now standing in her shadow, the fierce Celestial just looks lost, unsure.

In fact that uneasy expression is reflected on all of the assembled faces. People who had gathered with fire in their heart – to snuff out the Ultimate Evil with their lives on the line. Only to find themselves here, saved by that very evil. For them to be swayed by only this much, disgusting, where did the resolve to kill her – no matter the cost – disappear too? They're having a conversation by the Gods!

“Thank you, you've saved many lives.” Aurora says grudgingly.

Looking up I can see what she means – the tree has been largely beaten back. The intervening mile of land is covered in scars left behind by the battle. The ground torn and broken in hundreds of places where roots pushed their way out, and also scorched and blacked by a veritable sea of still-burning fire. After a moment I spot the cause, three distant figures are flying through the air and eradicating the offending vegetation. Two of them are sticking close together and have glowing green Runes carved into the air behind them – following their every move and vomiting fire seemingly on command.

With their matching black robes – almost like the acolyte robes of the old Order. Those two are curious creatures, maybe not even demons. Hard to tell at this distance. Looking at them they remind me of no demon I have ever seen. Not Imps or Sins or Gath or Succubi. And they look nothing like one of the members of the lesser Clans, the Zhelatel or the Sobaka. In fact the only demon I've ever seen they bear even a slight resemblance to is Alexandria herself. I feel a frown threatening to crease my brow so I drop that line of thought, reclaiming my inner calm.

The third figure is a succubus, betrayed by her batlike wings, doing most of the heavy lifting it looks like. Swooping in and out, burning through the attacking vines and brambles – a massive and familiar sword that looks like little more than a rough-hewn slab of stone in her hands. She seems to be using some sort of gravity vortex to gather the plants into massive clumps, before running them through with her sword and burning them from within. Those fires then spread along the interconnected network of branches, allowing her to rapidly carve her way through the Unbound creature.

It's quite the impressive sight, and as Aurora pointed out, it's giving the civilians the time they need to evacuate. Most of what remains of the Unbound creature is its main trunk, and the massive bridge rooted into the side of Hal'Trinneth. Which are the most dangerous parts of the thing actually, Alexandria's little servants are clearing away the rubbish but leaving the main body of the thing mostly unharmed – why?

“Can they not destroy it?” Mattis' gravelly voice inquires – apparently spotting the same thing I did.

“Unlikely.” Alexandria replies. Her voice is not soft, like you might expect of such a beautiful creature, but it has a certain infectious melodiousness. Like listening to a particularly moving song with each word she speaks.

“Perhaps they will be able to shear away and kill its body but there is nothing they can do about its core, unless I sorely miss my guess.” She continues. With infinite grace she daintily raises one delicate-looking hand, pointing at the base of the massive tree which is heavily obscured by layer upon layer of growth. “There, the core sits at its base. We must deal with it.”

So saying she scans the faces around her, that half-smile unfaltering – a species of amusement twinkling in her eyes. Seeing that. Seeing the idiot queen, finally descended from her oh-so-holy Throne here just to laugh at me, I reaffirm it – I carve it into my heart for the thousandth time – I will kill her. But Aurora heard the most important word in that last sentence.

“…We? I am …grateful… for your intervention against that monster. But the Chorus has nothing we can spare against it. Many of my brothers and sisters have already fallen this day, there is little we can do, and almost nothing with our strength so depleted.” Aurora says carefully.

I wonder if it's just me. Or I wonder if everyone can see Alexandria's smile subtly change, becoming patronizing and contemptuous. Or is that just my bias tainting my perceptions? My knowledge of how ridiculous Aurora's weak denial just now would sound to any ruler of demons.

“Who among us has the capacity to deal with the corrupted core of that creature?” Alexandria asks rhetorically. “It is I, of course. I who must come and clean up the filthy mess you insects have left behind. But to do so, I must physically approach the core of the thing. Doing so will invariably provoke some sort of defensive response. That is where you come in dove.” Her smile deepens as she speaks. Or maybe it doesn't.

“You cannot lay the existence of that monster at the feet of the Chorus. If anything…” Aurora starts to protest but her voice trails off halfway. Cowed by Alexandria's unchanging smile – that might actually be changing. One of the talents of the idiot queen is her ability to make use of the larger than life presence she projects to cow her conversational partners into submission. I've seen similar on the few occasions I witnessed a demon successfully petition her words, despite the lack of subtly or content to the things she says – speaking to her tends to leave people disorientated, taken off guard, unable to formulate responses while reading anything and everything off her largely unchanging face. I do not know if it is some sort of mind affecting magic, or truly the result of simply her “presence” but in either case the results are the same.

“I won't be educating you on the realities of the world dove. You'll have to work that much out on your own. But in any case, I don't feel the origin of the thing is the most pertinent point right now.” Alexandria says.

“You can rely on us.” Mattis cuts back into the conversation. “If it's your intent to destroy that thing – you have my and my parties full support. If it's allowed to rampage through Duke Clearwater's lands the toll will be heavy. This is one of the more populous regions of the Imperium and also one of the larger exporters of food crops. We must not let this land fall without a fight.”

“Is that so human? I agree with your sentiment, if not exactly your reasons. To see your wish realized – these lands protected – you need only cut a path.” Alexandria replies, her gaze lingering on the trunk of the Unbound monster.

Mattis gulps audibly at that, his party behind him looking uncertain, and he looks around at the members of the High Chorus for support. Aurora sighs.

“I suppose that creature cannot be allowed to exist – and with the servants of the Demon God…” She murmurs thoughtfully. “In fact, this is probably our best chance at reclaiming Hal'Trinneth. Though it is contrary to everything I believe, the situation right now calls for decisive action – and overwhelming power, so I suppose I have no choice but to trust you will uphold your end of this bargain.” Aurora glares at Alexandria as she speaks.

“The High Chorus will assist you in this endeavor.” Aurora proclaims.

“Good.” A new and oddly familiar voice joins in. Its owner dropping into the little circle a second later. Looking at her, I feel momentarily thunderstruck, because it's Vivianna. Almost exactly as I remember her. Her skin still youthful and pink, her wavy shoulder length red hair – so similar to my own – her curling horns still at a small size that betrays her youth. Her immaculately proportioned body, that could seduce even a Sin. She is completely unchanged, despite the seven hundred years that have passed since I last saw her, down to the angry black Brand on her forehead.

How is it even possible? She's supposed to be dead. As she looks around the little circle of people, her eyes passing me by as if I don't even exist, I notice one change – her eyes are blue now.

“My name is Pink…” She continues, outlining some strategy she intends to use against the Unbound monster but I hear no more. Because she just named herself – Pink. When she spoke I heard the word, her Name, not in the common tongue of man, but in the old demonic tongue I spoke in my youth – a word you can barely even pronounce with a human tongue. But none of the others reacted at all, judging by their slightly incredulous expressions, they merely heard the word Pink.

Meaning Vivianna was Named Pink. And the Name magic ensures that no matter who she introduces herself to, no matter what language she speaks, her Name is understood – because it is her. That is what she is. The greatest blessing the Goddess has been known to bestow, warping reality – changing the meaning of a Word so it also encompasses an individual. Something I – a Demon King – was never worthy of. Something even I do not fully understand. As those who were Named were very few, secretive, and only understood to be very powerful.

The greatest blessing the idiot queen has been known to give somehow found its way to my sister. My sister who is supposed to be dead. It's all I can do not to scream. My hand finds its way down to my sword, holding the hilt in a white-knuckle deathgrip. Thoughts of peace and serenity entirely blown away – ironically making me much weaker I note distantly – replaced by a towering inferno of rage. Because the idiot queen never so much as looked at me.

But somehow my sister was worthy? My sister who I should have killed hundreds of years ago? Even though it was I, who climbed to the top of that wretched pile, took that fiery crown, called myself the Demon King? Though it was I who spent hundreds of years devising a plan to take me up further – to let me ascend that final step? All that and the idiot queen doesn't even know my name? Doesn't even recognize my face – or the damnable Brand she put on my forehead – even when I stand not ten feet from her and she looks right into my eyes?

Somehow my weakling sister was worthy of her notice? Not I?

“…Blademaster, is that alright with you?” Distantly I hear Aurora asking me something.

“Alaina?” She asks again.

I look up to see everyone is looking at me. Mattis looks slightly worried. Aurora just confused. The other members of the High Chorus have faces that are carefully blank and unreadable – they have no great love of me. Alexandria is still smiling her smile, watching us all with her half-lidded eyes. And Vivianna – Pink – is looking at me with a slightly searching expression, as if we're long lost sisters or something. HAHA.

Containing my lunatic laughter with difficulty I turn to Aurora.

“I'm sorry, could you repeat that?” I say.

“You will be escorting the Demon God on the ground – ensuring she safely reaches the core of the Unbound – while we deal with the roots and branches it throws out from the air. Since you are uniquely suited to defending a single individual and the servants of the Demon God will be preoccupied with opening a path.” Aurora explains.

I look at Alexandria. At those half-lidded eyes. Mocking me? Laughing? I can't tell. My hand tightens on the hilt of my sword and I nod.

“Of course. I will see it done Aurora.” I confirm aloud. Moving to stand casually at the side of the idiot queen. Desperately trying to regain my calm – because it seems an opportunity might present itself after all, doesn't it? What else could this mean? Me? Defending her?

And watching Aurora nod, I think she might see that same opportunity. My feelings on the subject of the Demon God are not exactly a secret among the High Chorus.

“Excellent, then let's go, the longer we delay the more chance of the situation becoming even more irritating that it already is.” Pink says confidently.

Around us they spread out, as if we'd practiced this maneuver a hundred times. Pink is the vanguard flying about fifty yards ahead, one of Alexandria's other servants each flies about fifty yards away from us on either flank – still trailed by their glowing Rune Formations. Mattis and the bard are on our left. His swordswoman and mage cover our right. Above us, interspersed between Alexandria's servants the High Chorus is flying. And in the center walks Alexandria herself, with casual and immaculate grace you might expect to see at some lordlings evening party, rather than a battlefield.

Tightly gripping my sword, desperately trying to recenter myself, I walk alongside her.

Around us, there are explosions of activity on all sides, the Unbound monster apparently sensing our approach – perhaps even our intent. With Alexandria's servants in the fray however, their magics effective where the magics of the chorus were not, very little penetrates the formation. The warrior priests of the High Chorus – and the Heroes – have switched to entirely physical attacks, limiting their use of magic to bolstering their own flagging strength and healing wounds – letting the demons with their more effective magic act as artillery.

Walking alongside Alexandria, I can hear my breath becoming slightly ragged – a failure of the highest order for one who walks the path of the Whispering Heart – but not something I can help. There is little for me to do and my eyes are constantly drawn to Vivianna, using truly incredible magics – beyond even what I could cast before I severed my magical connection – gravity, razorwind, demonfire, and even zones of slight time distortion – she casts them over and over again in quick succession. Never failing in their construction, never faltering in her power – how large is her capacity to use such powerful magic in such quantities? Her raw output alone since we've set out is probably matches or exceeds the “Ultimate Weapon” Aurora had such confidence in at the start of this conflict – and that was powered by the entirety of the High Chorus and probably a thousand noncombatants on Hal'Trinneth.

It's incredible. Impossible. Even with a Name – such a thing is unheard of. I had expected that Alexandria's might would be overwhelming – no matter what reassurances Aurora might have provided – but her servants as well?

I shake me head. Trying to clear it. I continue walking forward, but I make no effort to focus on – or even be aware of – my surroundings. It's not as if Alexandria needs my protection. Turning my attentions inward. Striving to regain my peace. My disconnection. My strength. After a hundred cycles of deep and calming breaths, I feel I have regained my balance to some degree.

When I open my eyes again – looking out at the world once more. The fighting has become distant, I can only vaguely hear muffled sounds in the distance. Also it is very dark. Just ahead of me Alexandria is still casually walking forward, through a dark …tunnel? Looking at the walls around and above me I see they are made of solid wood – we are apparently walking inside of the giant tree. Above Alexandria a single mote of green light hovers, following above her head, lighting our path. In the flickering green light I see the perfectly circular nature of the tunnel we're walking in, the black scorch marks on all sides, the thin haze of ash in the air, and deduce that it must have been bored into the side of the tree by force.

Ahead – at the end of the tunnel – there is another source of light. A faint purple pulsing out from the deepest part of the tunnel. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and I feel a vague surge of alarm – will my glamour survive contact with such a large Unbound Core? Magic behaves erratically at times, when it comes in direct contact with the Unbound. But after a moment of thought I dismiss the concern, Alexandria is not liable to notice or care.

Together we enter the chamber in which the Unbound Core is housed. It sits in the middle of a large hollow in the wood, a huge and glossy black stone, shot through with and wrapped completely in the encroaching purple energy. Bigger than any core I have ever seen, less the heart of a monster, more a boulder – twenty feet high. Growing out of it are more thorny roots, vines, brambles – connecting the heart to the tree surrounding it. Those all lay inert enough, content to act as connectors between the heart and the body – not moving to attack us. Above me the green light flashes and forms itself in a Rune – nor the Rune is called, though the meaning escapes me.

“I do dislike this corruption.” Alexandria speaks. “Makes me emotional.” I can almost hear laughter in her melodious voice.

She gives me a considering sidelong glance. But I do not react, my inner turmoil quashed, my peace restored.

“Destroying this heart will take some time, but I think that the cost is …probably worth it. To allow something like this to exist for any period of time would be a mistake I believe. I have a method that should be effective, devised after some experimentation with these corrupted hearts. You need only keep me alive in the meantime I suppose.” Alexandria flashes me a lazy smile as she says that.

Before turning away. Putting me and my existence out of her mind. Glowing Rune Formations snapping into being all around her as she faces the Unbound Core. A tide of powerful magic activating all around me – before she steps forward, raises her arm, and extends a single finger to the surface of the Unbound Core. Immediately the whole room shudders, magic loosed wildly with no immediate visible effect to show for it.

Dumbfounded, losing my equilibrium for a moment, I stare down at her back. I was just trying to kill her. And now. Now she trusts me implicitly? She disregards my existence entirely? What the hell kind of thought process could possibly lead her to this course of action? Reaching to my side, I grip Gorfane tightly – staring down at her defenseless back. I can feel my eyes narrowing. That black sludge of hatred bubbling up inside of me. To think, the last act of the Demon Goddess Alexandria would be to snub me one final time.

I suppose that's why she's the Idiot Queen, distracting herself with her magic, exposing a defenseless back to an opponent. Thinking so, I can feel the blood rushing to my head. Pounding anger rising despite my efforts. My hand tightens on my sword, slowly drawing it forth.

Do you think it's possible to kill a Goddess?