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Her face was unrecognizable. Her lips were swollen and split, bleeding profusely, and her nose had been shattered completely, flattened against her bruised, swollen face. One of her eyes was gone—nothing but an empty, blood-filled socket remained, where once her light blue eyes had shone with power and beauty.

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Her remaining eye was nearly swollen shut, barely able to open, surrounded by dark bruises that covered half her face.

Blood poured from her mouth, where several of her teeth had been knocked out, leaving gaps that added to the grotesque appearance. Her scalp was raw, patches of hair missing where Nyx had ripped it out by the roots, leaving bald, bleeding spots across her once smooth head of pink hair.

Her robes, once pristine and white, now hung in shreds around her body. What little fabric remained was soaked in blood, clinging to her like a second skin. Large portions of her pale, white skin were exposed, but they had turned a sickening red from the blood that covered her entire form.

Her chest, stomach, and legs were visible through the tattered remains of her clothes, streaked with dirt, blood, and bruises.

Maris\'s body trembled involuntarily, weak and on the verge of collapse. Her beauty, once the envy of many, had been brutally erased by Nyx\'s relentless assault. She was nothing now but a broken figure lying in a pool of her own blood, barely recognizable as the Saint who had once stood proud and powerful.

Nyx stood above her, her arms crossed, a look of deep satisfaction etched on her face. Her lips curled into a slow, pleased smile as she admired the destruction she had wrought. Maris\'s pain, her utter defeat, filled Nyx with a pleasure.

"Look at you," Nyx purred, her voice filled with satisfaction. "The mighty Saint, reduced to nothing more than a bloody, broken mess. How does it feel? How does it feel to be powerless?"

Maris didn\'t answer. She couldn\'t. Her body, her mind, everything was consumed by the searing pain that coursed through her from head to toe. All she could do was lie there, broken beyond recognition, as Nyx stood over her, reveling in the agony she had inflicted.

Nyx stood over Maris, her hand raised, ready to deliver the final blow. Maris was barely conscious, her body a twisted, broken wreck, blood pooling beneath her. Nyx\'s fingers crackled with dark energy, the killing strike only moments away. But just as she was about to unleash it, a single word rang out.

"Push."

Before Nyx could react, she was suddenly thrown backward, as if an invisible force had struck her with immense power. She flew through the air, crashing into the ground several meters away from Maris. For a moment, she was stunned, lying in the dirt and staring at the sky, confused. What just happened?

Nyx quickly got back to her feet, eyes narrowed, scanning the area. She saw a figure standing protectively between her and Maris, his back turned toward her as he knelt beside the broken Saint. Nyx recognized him, though only vaguely. She had seen him before, standing by Maris, always close to her. His presence had never felt threatening until now.Nôv(el)B\\\\jnn

But there was something different about him, something that made Nyx frown.

This man, whoever he was, carried the same dark power she did—the power of evil magic.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it. How could this man, seemingly an ally of Maris, wield evil magic like hers? She had thought she was the only one here with such a power. Now, though, it was clear that the man kneeling beside Maris was far more than he seemed.

"Who are you?" Nyx growled, wiping the dirt from her face as she stood. "And how do you have this power?"

The man, Lucan, didn\'t seem to register her words at first. He glanced down at Maris, whose mangled body trembled in pain. His brow furrowed with concern. He placed a gentle hand on her forehead and spoke softly.

"Erase pain."

At his words, a faint shimmer passed over Maris\'s broken form. Her body relaxed almost immediately, the tension draining from her muscles as the unbearable pain she had been enduring vanished. Her face, once twisted in agony, softened, though her injuries remained.

Nyx\'s eyes widened in shock. The magic this man was using—his words had power. Actual power. He had simply spoken, and it had become reality.

"What… what are you?" Nyx asked again, more demanding this time. But before she could get a response, Lucan stood up, turning to face her.

Lucan didn\'t said anything. Currently he couldn\'t speak. One of the drawback of his power.

Lucan didn\'t respond. He simply stepped forward, his hands at his sides, his eyes locked onto Nyx.

Nyx vanished in a flash, teleporting right in front of him, aiming a punch at his face. But as she moved, Lucan spoke again.

"Stop."

Her fist froze in midair, halted inches from his face. Nyx\'s eyes widened in shock as her entire body was paralyzed, her muscles locked in place. For a moment, she struggled against the invisible force holding her still, but it was as if reality itself had obeyed Lucan\'s command. She couldn\'t move.

Lucan took a step back, putting some distance between them, then spoke once more.

"Release."

Immediately, Nyx regained control of her body, stumbling back as the hold on her was lifted. She regained her balance, glaring at Lucan. So, this was his power. Words that became truth.

This power is to much strong but there has to be some weakness.

Lucan looked at her, thinking how to fight. He released her after stopping her because his stopping is temporary. He can\'t stop her forever, but he doesn\'t want to her to know the time limit of his stopping ability, that\'s why she released her.