Malum continued to laugh at Annette’s apparent misfortune, beckoning the others to come closer to her.
“There’s no need to be shy, everyone!” She said to them. “I’m sure dear Annette is aching to hear your voices again!
Annette could only wait with intense dread as the group stepped forward to confront her.
It was thankfully getting to be a bit easier to inflict hits on her sister now.
Meliora unfortunately had no time to admire the sword cuts on Malum’s body, as she had to jump out of the way from a lunging attack.
By this time, Malum had become a snarling mess, with her hair flying every which way. She glared upon her sister, and began slamming her hunting knife against the floor.
By some stroke of luck, Meliora had managed to get a hit on Malum. From this moment of serendipity, both of them appeared to be shocked.
It was to be expected. In some quick, momentary lapse, Malum’s Omnipotence seemed to have failed her.
At least it was getting a little easier to dodge attacks.
Meliora kept telling herself that as she managed to stay on her feet after yet another series of parried sword cuts.
Once she jumped back, Malum grinned at the way her sister was struggling to stay upright. She then took a glance at her hunting knife, and licked off any blood that managed to be spilt on it.
The second scene that Annette was taken to was a far different one. Instead of being in a dingy alley with a dead body, she was now in a dark, cold room.
“Can whoever is doing that at least give me a warning before you send me through?” She asked to no one in particular.
Nearby, she could hear whimpering in an even darker corner of the room. A quick glance around showed her that she was in somebody’s basement.
It felt as if all Meliora could do for now was block all her sister’s attacks. Malum didn’t leave any openings whatsoever for her to get through.
One particular swing of her hunting knife was enough to knock Meliora to the ground. It took all she had to keep a hold of the blade she was carrying.
“Damn sis,” Malum said as she taunted her twin, “you’ve been getting rusty over all these years.”
The young man that sat before Annette now couldn’t be much older than fourteen.
His appearance was likely that of the typical goth wannabe, with the black lipstick and everything. His expression was one of utter dismay, as he breathed unevenly from all the commotion.
After another second or two, he got on his hands and knees and went to look in the other room.