The next blow had no recognizable form.
It wasn't a punch, nor a kick, nor a defined impact that could be analyzed as a common physical attack.
It was as if Vergil had decided that her existence at that point in space was too inconvenient to remain untouched.
The force surged through the air before the movement even finished, crushing the space around her body and launching her upwards with enough violence to distort her very perception of up and down.
That small world inside the coliseum spun, the sky merged with the ground, and then came the fall—brutal, chaotic, definitive.
She crashed into the ground like a meteor without glory, opening an irregular crater, the impact shattering rock, earth, and remnants of ancient enchantments.
The sound echoed across the field like a dry thunderclap.
Her body lay partially buried, limbs at awkward angles, her shield thrown far away, rolling uselessly until it stopped several meters away. The air left her lungs in a single, silent spasm.
