Lissa hid behind her shield, standing in between the raging battle and the twins, who for once had seen sense and abandoned their usual reckless behaviour. Trista stood a few dozen feet further, partially embedded in a wall. She was hiding behind her large shield, which was a wise decision. The Paladin turned her attention to the light-show that was tearing the marketplace apart. The rest of the militia had retreated or fled, at least those who had been fortunate to escape the battle. Roughly half of the group of brave men that had accompanied them to apprehend the witch were dead, caught between hammer and anvil as the forces of Light and Darkness clashed in what could only be described as an apocalyptic battle.

Lissa had witnessed plenty of battles were magic was involved, but never something of this scale. The Priestess, despite her exhaustion, proved to be truly adept at magic. The Paladin was not an expert on the matter, her own magical abilities being incredibly limited compare to what the two women were unleashing at one another, but even the blind could feel how the air itself sundered at the titanic energies that were being unleashed.

However, for all the Priestess' abilities, the witch countered her every move. The Priestess, in turn, blocked any counterattack that the witch unleashed. Whenever two attacks met each other in between the two parties, the energies would spiral out of control and explode, sending powerful shockwaves that flattened everything in their immediate surrounding and toppled over anything that was not nailed down. If it were not for their heavy training and magically reinforced equipment, Lissa had no doubt both she and her Knight would have shared the faith of the dead militia-men.

She looked over to where Trista was and was pleased to see the woman still standing at the ready, having managed to climb out of the wall she had been blasted in. Her helmeted face peered over her shield as she observed the battlefield with a seeming lack of emotion. Lissa knew her better than most, though, and knew the woman was trying to discern a pattern she could use to join the attack. She wasn't stupid and knew that blindly rushing in would distract the Priestess and only get them both killed. Unlike normal weaponry, magic could attack in more than just straight lines, and it was clear from Trista's hesitation that she knew that only her shield could take a direct attack. If one of those attacks hit her from the side, or worse, the back, she'd be torn apart instantaneously.

Trista suddenly seemed to see something and briefly turned to Lissa. Exchanging signals with the briefest of movements, both parties being unable to move their shield much, the two Warriors nodded solemnly at one another. Then Trista took a small step forward, her eyes fully focusing on the battle as she started to slide along the wall, towards the witch.

Glissandi was having a hard time. In raw strength she had the upper hand, but the witch's training somehow exceeded her own. The attacks the vile woman launched at her lacked punch, but were all the more insidious. They pierced layers of her defences and it was only due to her massive energy reserves that she was able to hold her ground. Unlike a battle between two skilled swordsmen, a fight between mages was devoid of the parties moving. Both stood their ground, shields flaring up so strongly they became visible to the naked eye. Energies sundered around them and distorted the air while both mages tried to obliterate one another relentlessly. Attacks pierced the air, hidden and unseen to those not versed in magic, crashing into the opponent's defenses or meeting another attack mid-way, resulting in explosions that ripped the earth apart.

Her shields shook as the witch launched a broad assault, countless spears of dark energy colliding against the golden field. Glissandi gritted her teeth and moved her arms, gathering energy and throwing it in a straight line at her enemy in response. The witch's shields flared up as more energy was poured into them, until they grew so dense that the woman behind it was obscured by pure darkness. Then the golden ray slammed into it and the witch took several steps back, her shield unbroken. Glissandi's vicious grin was met with a feral growl as the witch lost some of her composure. The woman couldn't keep it up! The Priestess was outclassed in ability, but not in strength. With the Lord on her side, she'd triumph! Darkness could not prevail against the Light!

Her hopes were dashed as a needle-sharp offensive smashed into her shield from the side and sent her flying. She crashed into the ground, hard, felt her skin rupture as she slid across the rough stones. Before she could regain her bearings several more attacks hit her shield and she was sent skidding again. More attacks followed but this time she countered with a broad wave of energy, dispersing them. She stood up, anger overriding fear. She met the witch's gaze, saw the confidence in the woman's eyes, the disdain for her opponent and all she stood for.

When the creature of Darkness laughed that musical laugh, Glissandi could feel how her eyes started twitching. She brought her hands up in order to launch another offensive of her own, refusing to yield, when a massive blast came down from the sky like lightning and tore into her shield with more strength than she had thought possible. She felt the pressure wash down over her as her shield lost its shape and desperation bubbled to the surface. Then the attack faded and relief flooded over her for the briefest of moments, before she felt the same energy gather above her again. Looking up to the sky in despair, she had only time to whisper the Lord's name before the next attack came down on her, this one even stronger than the last one.

Trista saw how the battle was unfolding in their opponent's favour. The Priestess was starting to buckle, holding her shield up with lines of fear marring Glissandi's young face. She grunted as she kept sliding across the wall. She was no expert when it came to judging the magical strength of people, but she was quite certain that the Priestess was the stronger one by a fair margin. The reason as to why the witch was winning despite that was as clear as rain to her; the witch had combat experience while the Priestess didn't. And it was clear that the witch had caught Glissandi off-guard and put the Priestess on her back foot. She was panicking now and that was bad. If Glissandi fell, the rest of her party would follow shortly there-after. She'd lose those around her again.

The scar on her face heated up as a raging fury took root in the core of her soul. No. Not again. she thought with grim determination. She'd die before she would let that happen again. She may not believe in the Lord, and she may have lost her faith in the Order, but the Priestess had been placed in her care. She was more than just Glissandi's sword, she was also her shield. And a shield would break before harm could befall its wearer. Lissa could not interfere, the moment she moved the Squires would be blown apart. Neither could she herself couldn't launch an assault, the witch would simply switch targets for a moment and obliterate her.

Yet, wouldn't that buy the Priestess time for a counterattack?

Trista raised her sword and made up her mind.

Glissandi was panicking. Attack after attack crashed into her shield, and what was once a perfect circle of golden energy was now heavily dented, cracks appearing around the zone of impact, their number and size increasing with each consecutive blow. She was afraid. She knew she should be afraid of the Light losing to Darkness, of failing in her duties, that her loss would cause the death of countless believers, of her party members, but all that raged in her mind was the thought that she didn't want to die.

Another blast tore into her shield and she was smashed into the ground, barely managing to keep her hand out so she could keep reinforcing her shield. How was the witch doing this? How could she keep up this relentless assault without tiring? Her own muscles trembled with exhaustion, her once angelic face marred with the ugly emotions of pure fear and exasperation. She was going to die! She didn't want to die! Lord above, she was scared out of her mind.

Then a determined scream tore her out of her thoughts.

Using the wall as a stepping stone, Trista launched herself forward. With every step the Knight gained speed, launching herself into a full sprint only a moment after starting. With an absurd amount of speed for such a heavily armoured warrior, she stormed at the witch, her sword held low, mostly behind her shield. The witch was pulled away from her offensive and was obviously taken off guard by the sudden assault, her cocky grin dissipating at the sight of the charging Knight.

Heavy shield held in front of her, her winged helmet peeking out just above it, an unshakeable determination in her every step and an absolute murderous aura surrounding her, Trista was a frightening sight to behold. It managed to shake the witch's composure for a brief moment before her battle instincts kicked in and she launched a powerful wave at the Knight.

Trista felt the attack more than that she saw it and knew that she could take it head on, but that she would be blasted back into, if not through, the wall behind her. It would leave the Priestess open to a follow up attack, as the woman would be too disorientated to have done more than reinforce her shield again, inexperienced to real battle as she was. Disregarding her own safety, the Knight threw her shield into the attack. Magical energies collided with the shield and the attack dispersed in an explosion that sent the shield flying. Trista had aimed her shield well enough that the resulting blast launched it just besides her, rather than through her. The witch's eyes widened as she realised that her attack hadn't tore the Knight apart, and that she was still coming, and was now much closer.

The witch waved her hands about and gathered more energy and prepared to launch a vast amount of small attacks, giving the Knight no chance to survive to counterattack when Trista suddenly threw her sword. It spun around the air in a straight line at the witch. Blindly firing off her attack, she threw herself to the side as the magically reinforced sword slashed through her barrier with ease, the blade only lightly nicking her.

Trista saw the attacks coming and knew she had no chance of dodging it. Yet she would not yield. She would strive to survive until her last breath left her. She tried to feel where most of the attacks would come from and threw herself in the opposite direction. Then they hit her and pain washed over her for a brief instance, before darkness consumed her.

"Trista!" screamed Lissa, having been forced to witness the entire exchange without being able to interfere. She had to watch on helplessly as the Priestess had panicked, only to earn a slight reprieve as the Knight sacrificed herself, nearly managing to take out the witch with her attack. Then the witch eliminated the Knight in turn and Lissa felt hot tears stream across her face as Trista was blown away, her body sent flying through the nearby wall and possibly several others, like a rag-doll. She was about to abandon all reason and charge at the witch herself when thunder roared and split the air, nearly causing her to drop her shield. The twins behind her were less sturdy on their feet and fell over. Lissa's gaze traversed from the hole in the wall, over the witch, who for the first time since the battle started was looking frightened, towards Glissandi.

Trista was gone. Due to her. She had failed. Had surrendered to fear and panic and had abandoned her training. Because of her inexperience, her failure, a brave Knight of the Order was gone. Because of that bitch in front of her, dozens of militia-men were death, a child was nearly murdered and Trista was gone. And only the Lord could know how many other atrocities she had committed.

"No more!" she screamed, the air around her ablaze with energies as her mind broke free from the mental conditioning she had endured for years. During all the mock battles she had performed in the Monastery, she had always been forced to hold back, to control her energy, to not go all out. That training had taken such a hold on her that even now, with death looming over her, she had forgotten about the barriers she had put up within her soul. Now, with her fury burning unbridled within her and rage intertwined with sorrow sweeping across the surface of her mind, that block was gone.

The darkness surrounding the witch was struggling to maintain its existence against the golden rays that were radiating from the Priestess as she accessed reserves she had all but forgotten existed. The witch held up her hand in desperation, realising that she had vastly underestimated the raw strength of her opponent. "You can't! You'll blow up the city! Think of the innocents!" she screamed, attempting to discourage the Priestess from her attack.

The Priestess considered her words for a brief moment, then came to the cold truth that if this creature survived many more would die. Yet even so...

."You have a point," the Priestess admitted, controlled fury seeping through her voice, and shifted the angle of her attack.

The witch only had time to scream before a tall pillar of blinding light struck down on her from the heavens and evaporated everything it touched.