The battle resumed its deadly rhythm, a macabre dance between divine power and mortal skill. I continued to weave between Sedna's strikes, my pale white form blurring as I twisted and dodged. But the starstone spear found its mark time and again, carving thin lines across my pale flesh that burned with unnatural fire. Each wound was shallow but persistent as the alien metal refused to let my divine form heal properly, leaving weeping gashes that accumulated like tally marks of her expertise.

My tendrils lashed out in coordinated patterns, but Sedna moved like quicksilver through the air currents she commanded. Wind lifted her above one tendril's sweep while pushing her aside from another's thrust. When I managed to corner her against a collapsed wall, forcing her to engage directly, my claw-arm finally connected with her ribs in a devastating backhand that should have shattered bone.

Green light immediately enveloped the injury. The necromantic healing sealed broken ribs and torn flesh within seconds, restoring her to perfect condition. I snarled in frustration and whipped a tendril toward the puppet soldier providing the magical support. The mechanical appendage struck with enough force to separate his head from his shoulders in a spray of dark blood.

But victory lasted only moments. Across the street, another corpse twitched and sat up with jerky, unnatural movements. Dead eyes fixed on Sedna as green energy flowed from its fingertips toward her form. Coln's consciousness had simply jumped to a new vessel, treating the fallen bodies like spare parts for his remote operation.

My gaze swept across the battlefield, counting the scattered dead. Dozens of corpses littered the broken streets: human soldiers, monster refugees, even some of my own Tireless units that had fallen to concentrated magical attacks. Each organic corpse represented a potential puppet for the necromancer's use.

Tireless formations seven through twelve, I commanded through our mental connection. New objective: dismember all corpses within combat radius. Prevent necromantic reanimation.

My mechanical children immediately shifted tactics. Instead of engaging the living soldiers, they turned their attention to the dead, pulling gleaming blades from their bodies' weapon compartments. The sight of the dark steel cutting into their fallen comrades sent shockwaves through the human ranks.

"Stop them!" Sedna shrieked, recognizing the threat to her support network. "Protect the fallen!"

The human soldiers found themselves in the bizarre position of defending corpses instead of fighting for their lives. They threw themselves between my Tireless and the bodies, using shields and spears to block mechanical limbs from reaching their grisly targets. The battle devolved into a surreal melee where humans died trying to preserve the dead.

Meanwhile, Sedna pressed her attack with renewed desperation. Her spear became a blur of starstone and wind, slashing across my chest and arms in rapid succession. I gave ground, letting her drive me back while my tendrils whirled in defensive patterns. Each exchange left new wounds on my divine form. A gash across my left shoulder, a puncture through my right palm, a long cut down my torso that would have been fatal to any mortal being.

"You're weakening," Sedna taunted between strikes, her voice carrying on the wind currents she commanded. "Each wound adds up, false god. Your flesh may be divine, but starstone makes it bleed just like any other."

I ducked under a horizontal slash and countered with my sword-lance, forcing her to twist away on a gust of wind. Brave words from someone who'd be dead three times over without her pet necromancer.

"Coln and I are a team!" she snarled, her spear coming around in a vicious arc that I barely intercepted with my claw-arm. "That's what makes us dangerous!"

No, I replied, parrying another thrust while two tendrils swept toward her legs. That's what makes you weak. You can't win without him.

The insult struck deeper than any physical blow. Sedna's eyes blazed with fury as she abandoned her careful defensive posture. She dove forward recklessly, ignoring the mechanical appendages reaching for her, focused solely on driving her spear through my chest. Wind currents propelled her with tremendous speed, the starstone point aimed directly at my core.

I could have dodged. Should have dodged. Instead, I let her commit to the attack, accepting the spear's bite as it sliced deep across my left shoulder. The alien rock parted my Primordial flesh like butter, sending waves of burning agony through my form. But Sedna's reckless charge left her completely exposed.

Two of my tendrils struck simultaneously. The first tore across her right thigh, mechanical teeth shredding muscle and sinew. The second raked down her bicep, leaving parallel gashes that exposed bone beneath. Blood sprayed across the broken street as she gasped in pain and shock.

"Coln!" she called desperately, stumbling backward with crimson streaming from her wounds. "Heal me!"

Silence answered her plea. No green glow enveloped her injuries. She spun around frantically, searching for her necromantic support, only to discover the grim efficiency of my mechanical children. The Tireless had succeeded in their grisly task; every corpse within sight had been methodically dismembered, leaving nothing but scattered limbs and severed heads for Coln to inhabit.

It's over, Sedna, I declared, advancing slowly, my sword-lance ready to strike her down. Your puppet master has no more puppets to play with.

But Sedna merely gritted her teeth, her grip tightening on the starstone spear despite the pain wracking her body. Without warning, she pivoted and dove toward the nearest human soldier, a young man barely out of his teens who stood frozen in shock at the sudden violence.

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The spear punched through his chest with sickening ease. His eyes went wide with betrayal and confusion as Sedna twisted the weapon deeper, ensuring a quick death.

"What are you doing?" an officer shouted from nearby, his face pale with horror. "He's one of ours!"

"Sacrifices are necessary," Sedna replied coldly, withdrawing her bloody spear. "We serve a greater good."

The murdered soldier's corpse twitched and rose, dead eyes focusing on Sedna as green energy began flowing from its fingertips. Coln had found his new puppet, purchased with the life of an innocent man.

The human soldiers stared in stunned disbelief as their leader's wounds began healing once more. Some raised weapons uncertainly, torn between loyalty and revulsion at the casual murder they'd witnessed.

I looked directly at the horrified officer. She'll kill every last one of you to claim victory. If you care about your men's lives, order a retreat.

Sedna whirled toward the officer, starstone spear gleaming with threat. "Don't you dare abandon this mission!"

But the officer's face had hardened with resolve and disgust. "Withdraw!" he commanded, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "All units, fall back immediately!"

Sedna snarled and launched herself at the officer, intent on silencing his retreat order with blood. I intercepted her strike, my claw-arm catching the spear shaft inches from the man's throat. The irony wasn't lost on me; I was defending the lives of soldiers whom earlier had just tried to kill me.

Go, I told the humans simply. Live.

The officer nodded once, gratitude and shame warring in his expression. Then he and his men were running, abandoning their leaders and their mission in favor of preserving their lives.

Sedna and I faced each other across the blood-soaked street, surrounded by mechanical soldiers and a single animated corpse.

With a vicious yank, Sedna tore the starstone spear from my mechanical grip, the otherworldly stone scoring a deep wound across my right palm as it pulled free. The weapon had bitten deep, but I pushed the burning pain aside. My tendrils responded instantly, striking toward her in coordinated strikes that would have torn any mortal apart.

She leaped backward with supernatural grace, wind currents lifting her clear of the mechanical dragon heads. Her spear shaft became a blur as she deflected two tendrils that nearly reached her torso, the hard wood scraping against my divine flesh with showers of sparks. The impact jarred through my partly mechanical body, but I was already pivoting toward my true target.

My sword-lance swept in a devastating arc toward Coln's final puppet. The young soldier's corpse tried to shamble away, but divine strength drove the blade clean through his midsection. The body separated in a spray of dark blood and entrails, upper and lower halves hitting the broken street with wet impacts.

My surviving Tireless fell upon the bisected remains like mechanical vultures. Their weapons emerged from hidden compartments. Serrated blades, bone saws, and cutting implements all reduced the corpse to component parts with methodical efficiency. Arms severed at the shoulders, legs cut away at the hip, the head removed with surgical precision. Within moments, nothing remained but scattered meat that could never serve as a necromantic vessel again.

"No!" Sedna screamed, her voice cracking with frustration as she watched her vital support network literally dismantled before her eyes. "You filthy machine! You've ruined everything!"

I could see doubt flickering behind her pale eyes like candleflame in wind. The calculating part of her mind was weighing odds, considering escape routes, measuring the distance to safety. Her body language shifted subtly; weight on her back foot, shoulders angled toward the nearest exit. The instinct for self-preservation warred against whatever devotion bound her to this doomed mission.

But her faith won. Her face scrunched with religious fervor as she visibly crushed her survival instincts underfoot. Kanis Rael obviously commanded loyalty stronger than the fear of death. With a wordless battle cry, she shot toward me like a missile, her starstone spear leading the charge with wind currents propelling her forward at tremendous speed.

My tendrils responded by grabbing chunks of debris from the battlefield around us: broken masonry, twisted metal, even pieces of the dismembered corpses my Tireless had created. I hurled the projectiles in rapid succession, turning the air between us into a storm of deadly missiles.

She dodged with fluid grace, her wind magic allowing impossible mid-air corrections that carried her around a flying brick, under a chunk of masonry, past the severed arm of a human soldier. But each evasion cost her momentum and precious time. Her supernatural agility couldn't entirely compensate for the need to constantly adjust her trajectory.

Meanwhile, I felt no fatigue whatsoever. My divine form knew no exhaustion, no burning muscles or labored breathing. Every injury she had suffered, despite Coln's healing, had accumulated into a growing weariness that showed in the slight tremor of her spear arm and the sheen of sweat on her brow. I had all the time in the world to wear her down.

As she twisted away from a particularly large piece of rubble I had launched, one of my tendrils lashed out with serpentine speed. The mechanical appendage struck low, its fanged maw clamping down on her right foot just above the ankle. The teeth, designed to pierce monster carapaces, tore through flesh and bone like paper.

Her foot came away in a spray of arterial blood. The severed limb disappeared down my tendril's gullet while she crashed to the ground in an uncontrolled tumble, her momentum carrying her across the blood-slicked stones. Her agonized scream echoed off the broken buildings as she tried desperately to rise on her remaining leg.

I was already above her, my twelve-foot frame casting her in shadow. She looked up with eyes full of furious surprise, perhaps expecting some final chance to strike back or escape. Instead, my sword-lance descended in a clean arc that separated her head from her shoulders with surgical precision.

Her head rolled across the black volcanic stones, coming to rest against a pile of rubble. Her face still wore that expression of shocked indignation, as if she couldn't quite believe that her divine mission had ended in such mundane failure.

With the level 100 Spear Master dead at my feet, I surveyed the devastated Underside district. Broken buildings lined silent streets where my Tireless stood motionless among scattered corpses. The human soldiers had fled, abandoning their invasion for the safety of retreat. Only death and destruction remained as testament to their failed assault.

I reached out with my enhanced Mind Speech, the divine ability now unlimited by the System's former constraints. My mental voice touched every consciousness within miles: human soldiers fleeing through the volcanic tunnels, monster defenders huddled in their barricades, even the distant minds of Coln's remaining forces.

Sedna the Dervish is dead, I declared, my words resonating in every mind simultaneously. All human soldiers will withdraw from the Central Hellzone immediately, or face the full wrath of the God of Weaponry. This is your only warning.

With my declaration complete, I turned away from Sedna's cooling corpse. My sword-lance rose, divine power flowing through the blade as I cut a rift in space and time itself. The portal opened with a sound like tearing silk, revealing the familiar sight of the caldera beyond.

My surviving Tireless marched through the dimensional gateway in perfect formation, their mechanical steps echoing in the tunnel between worlds. I followed last, leaving the ruins of the Underside behind as the rift sealed shut behind us.

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