Yamashita Hiro
Shinto - Church on the Hill
Morning phase
"And why not...?"
Standing tall, her reputation seemingly unaffected by your rather harsh review, it is not only until you make a pause to catch your breath that Ariel intercedes, her mouth drawing a smile that contains more amusement than anything else. Far less gullible than Luna or Theressa, the heir of the Labelle Family does not appear to be someone that can be influenced with words alone. Her Amethyst eyes offer a glimpse at the level of determination she possesses, her words absolute to the point where it wouldn't be a mistake to compare them to a decree. In that sense, the question she presented earlier has been nothing but a formality, a display of etiquette that a devil like her can do without. Yes, much like the Assassin you got to meet earlier this morning, this person is one that will take your life the moment you make a wrong move.
"Don't we lie about ourselves all the time...?" Ariel muses, unfazed by your arguments, her stance already displaying traits of superiority. "Fashion is all about deceit... It's not just about enhancing one's beauty or hiding one's ugliness, it's about deceiving the mind of the observer. Out of ambition, out of power, out of fear, we lie and bring an illusion into reality. Wouldn't you agree, Yamashita-san?"
Concealed within her relaxed demeanor and the promise of an insightful conversation, is a surge of hostility that does not escape your senses. And nor does it evade Theressa's instincts who, from the very beginning, has been preparing herself for combat. Certainly, she has done well in enduring this far, holding back her anger. Perhaps because of the words you spoke at the hotel when a second skirmish between her and Assassin seemed unavoidable, she thought that it was only reasonable to give this person a chance to explain herself. So when Ariel Labelle cleverly avoided your first question and, what's more, now shows the intention of attacking the group, the nun springs into action, taking at least three steps forward in the blink of an eye.
"You two, get back...!"
Where once stood a mere woman, now stands a Holy Warrior. And, as such, Theressa displays no hesitation or mercy. Before you can even process what is going on, your silver haired companion has already begun her attack. Amongst the various levels of 'monster-like' proficiency within the ranks of Executors, there are those who stand out in the use of Black Keys. There are some who can wield four in one hand and four in the other without suffering any loss in accuracy nor efficiency, an amazing feat capable of defying reason through martial arts alone. But whilst those enforcers hide an unrealistic number of Black Keys underneath their clothes, Theressa Rossi only needs a few.
The reason should be evident: She does not need any more.
Three Black Keys are tossed one at a time in rapid succession, the act so fast that to the naked eye, it would appear as if Theressa has just gone through the motions once instead of thrice.
Even though she does not intend to end Ariel's life instantly, she is still aiming for a kill. And the fact that she is able to preserve someone's life with a miracle like the one she's about to perform serves as a testament of how skilled she truly is.
Proliferation is not an option; it's a command. Now go forth and multiply
---כפל אלוהי---
Three become nine and nine become twenty-seven.
Twenty seven become a storm.
Without slowing down even for an instant, each projectile carries as much force as an arrow. Within the realm of the supernatural, it's a straightforward and simple, yet effective approach to end a battle swiftly. After all, the time it takes to accomplish all this is little less than a second, 0.7 to be precise. In other words, there is really no way for the blonde to defend herself against this sort of attack. No matter how much political power she has amassed over the years, no lie she can tell can stand against an ambush that exceeds mortal's limits-!
"Ah."
---Except.
Faith is not the only thing that powers miracles. Sometimes, certain individuals can weave them naturally without the aid of an outside force. Those who overturn fate through sheer willpower are known as heroes-!
As if to enforce this belief, a surge of red lightning cuts through the air, knocking countless weapons aside with a single motion. What follows is the continuous sound of 'metal' hitting the ground, evidence that ascertains that Theressa Russo's attack failed to hit its mark.
"Wha-"
There, standing between the devil and what should have been certain death, stands a spearman dressed in fancy blue skin-tight jumpsuit, his weapon as crimson as the blood of the warriors whose life it has claimed.
"Hey, young lady, that wasn't half-bad. You are no slouch." The man offers genuine compliment. And yet, the difference between them is already clear as day. One that cannot be overcome. "But... Do that again and I'll have to kill you."
Then, as an afterthought, he adds, his body sinking into a battle stance:
"Actually, knowing my Master, I might have to kill you anyways..."
'What a waste' is what his expression conveys.