The Bigshot's Superstar Wife - Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Who are You?

Athena moved like a phantom through the battlefield, her every motion precise and deadly.

The demonic beasts charged at her, their corrupted red eyes glowing with bloodlust, but they were no match for her and the ancient sword, Arthivian.

Her first swing severed the neck of a wolf-like creature, its roar dying in a gurgle as the blade cleaved clean through.

As its body crumpled, the crimson glow in its eyes dimmed, and its physical form dissolved into a cloud of shimmering red particles.

These particles coalesced into delicate, glowing butterflies, their ethereal wings glinting in the storm’s brief flashes of lightning. One butterfly became two, then dozens.

Arthivian drank greedily from the beast’s core, its engravings pulsing with dark energy as if alive, feeding. Its hunger is insatiable.

Athena barely had a moment to breathe before another wave of creatures lunged at her from the shadows. It’s been so long since I moved my arms and legs.

A hulking bear-like monster charged forward, its massive claws swiping at her with incredible speed. She dodged in a fluid twist, the rain slicking her movements but not her resolve.

The beast roared again, its infected eyes glowing brighter as it reared on its hind legs to deliver a killing blow. But Athena was faster.

She crouched low and sprang upward, slicing through its chest with a diagonal slash. The blade met no resistance as it cut through the corrupted flesh.

The beast bellowed in agony before collapsing, its core consumed by Arthivian in a brilliant flash of light.

More butterflies emerged, joining the growing swarm that now danced around Athena in the stormy gloom.

She didn’t stop. Another beast, and another, fell under her relentless assault.

Each kill was marked by the glowing butterflies that illuminated the battlefield, an eerie contrast to the chaos of the storm.

The rain poured harder, streaking her face and soaking her hair, but she paid it no mind. Her focus was absolute, her purpose unwavering.

The screams of the beasts and the clash of claws against steel echoed through the night, accompanied by the rhythmic thunder that rolled across the sky.

The corrupted creatures tried to overwhelm her with numbers, but it was futile.

Her strikes were precise, each one finding its mark, and Arthivian’s hunger grew insatiable with every core it absorbed.

A serpent-like beast lunged at her, its fangs glinting with venom even in the dim light. Athena leaped into the air, spinning mid-flight, and brought Arthivian down in a graceful arc.

The serpent’s head separated cleanly from its body, and both dissolved into luminous butterflies that joined the growing swarm around her.

The field soon became a surreal sight.

Despite the violence, it was breathtaking, a swirling sea of glowing red butterflies flitted about, their light casting an otherworldly glow on Athena’s determined face.

Lightning struck nearby, illuminating the entire battlefield for a split second.

At that moment, she stood amidst the chaos, drenched in rain and blood, her hair glowing faintly purple under the power of Arthivian.

The butterflies circled her like an otherworldly crown, their soft glow starkly contrasting with the carnage she had wrought.

More beasts roared in the distance, their growls carried by the wind. But Athena stood firm, her grip on Arthivian unwavering.

“Come,” she whispered to the darkness, her voice low but resolute. The butterflies pulsed in time with the blade, as if answering her challenge.

The storm raged on, but so did Athena, a warrior forged in death and reborn in destiny. The night was hers, and the demonic beasts would not see the dawn.

The sword’s appetite is too big… but it ended so soon.

Wait!

Who is this?

What the…

The air was thick with tension, the rain pounding against the earth in relentless sheets as Athena faced the figure before her.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath, adrenaline still coursing through her veins from the battle with the demonic beasts.

Yet, the new challenge before her was unlike anything she had just faced.

The sword that had clashed with Arthivian was a bluish silver blade, its edge gleaming even under the dim light of the storm.

The force behind it had sent a shiver up her arms, and now she stood her ground, glaring at the silhouette. I met my match!

The intruder moved with a fluidity that matched her own, and each strike that followed was precise, and calculated.

Their swords clashed again, the metallic ring echoing in the storm, sparks flying with each contact. It’s even more exciting!

Athena’s eyes narrowed as she adjusted her footing, her muscles taut and ready to react.

“Who are you?” the voice finally broke through the rhythm of their duel, sharp and demanding.

Lightning struck, illuminating the scene for a brief moment. Athena’s heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of his face. Mors. His aura has changed! Was it all a mask?

His eyes… they were like ice, cold and unyielding, staring at her with a ferocity she hadn’t seen before. Did he possess multiple identity disorder? What side am I facing? Who?

Her lips curled into a smile, not one of amusement, but a crazed, knowing grin. The kind she hadn’t worn since her days as an assassin.

She tilted her head slightly, her hair plastered to her face by the rain. “Your lawfully wedded wife,” she replied, her voice dripping with mockery.

Her grip on Arthivian tightened as she took a half-step closer. “But I should ask you the same question. Who are you?”

Mors didn’t falter. Instead, he chuckled, a low and humorless sound that sent a chill down her spine. “Your husband,” he said simply, his lips curling into a smirk. “Till death.”

The words hung in the air, their weight amplified by the storm.

Neither of them moved for a heartbeat, their gazes locked in a battle of wills. And then, as if by unspoken agreement, they charged at each other again.

Athena’s blade hummed with power, the ancient engravings glowing faintly with dark energy as they met Mors’ silver sword.

Their strikes were faster now, more ferocious, their movements a deadly dance under the flashing sky. Mors’ strength was staggering, each blow heavier than the last.

Athena found herself gritting her teeth as she parried and dodged, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected him to possess such skill or such ruthlessness.

Where did his strength come from?