Around them, the Eldar rangers tiheir assault, their arrows weaving through the chaotic melee. Yet none could strike Rosina. She moved with such grad fluidity that it was as if she dahrough the battlefield, always a step ahead of death.

  Sydria roared, her fury building as Rosina’s mog smile never faltered. “How you stand there, smiling, after betraying everything we oood for? After sacrifig your own people to Chaos? You Bastard!”

  As another energy arrow streaked toward Rosina's exposed back, a psychic shield shimmered ience, blog the projectile effortlessly. The translut barrier rippled as it absorbed the force, leaving Rosina untouched by what should have been a fatal strike.

  Rosina gripped the Executihtly, swinging the long bde in a powerful upward arc. The strike sent Sydria reeling backward, her banentarily broken.

  Rosina stepped forward, her voice rising with a sudden scream that echoed like a banshee’s wail. “You call me a bastard?” she shouted, her voice sharp and pierg. “No, Sydria—you’re just a fool!” Her scream wasn’t just sound; it carried the power of raw psychiergy. A visible shockwave expanded outward from her, rippling through the air with enough force to rattle the structure around them. Eldar Rangers hidden throughout the tent were struck by the wave, their minds overwhelmed by its psychic resoheir cloaking fields flickered and failed, leaving them exposed as they staggered, paralyzed by the devastatial assault.

  Sydria, protected by her Banshee mask, was ued physically. The mask’s advanced meisms shielded her from the effects of the psychic scream. But the sheer force of Rosina’s power struck a deep psychological blow. Sydria’s thoughts raced as fear crept in. Rosina had released a Banshee Wail without any tools, and its range had covered the eent. That level of raw psychic power was almost unthinkable. How could anyone hope to defeat su enemy?

  The other Rangers shared Sydria’s terror. Immobilized by the psychic assault, they watched helplessly as Rosina turned her focus to the arget. Holding the Executioner with both hands, she leaped toward the Ranger. Her movements were graceful, almost serene, as she twisted through the air and brought her bde down in a perfect arc.

  The Executioner cleaved through the Ranger with surgical precision, splitting the target in two. The bde’s spiritual energy sliced through the body as easily as it would through ceramite armor or the hull of a Chimera troop carrier. Rosina barely registered the resistance as she moved to her arget.

  The Ranger she targeted ried desperately to move, to raise a on, but the paralysis held firm. Rosina rushed forward, croug low to build momentum, and swung the bde in a wide arother body fell in two, lifeless. Rosina’s thoughts were methodical, calg. ‘One more should secure total trol,’ she thought as she pivoted toward another Ranger frozen in terror.

  She jumped again, the Executioner raised high, preparing for yet another fwless strike. But this time, Sydria intervened.

  Appearing like a ghost beh Rosina’s flight path, Sydria struck upward with both Mirror Swords. Rosina twisted mid-air, bringing the Executioo bear in defehe ons cshed with a sound like ringing gss, the spiritual energy c through each bde amplifying the sharp g.

  The csh sent shockwaves through the air as the two women collided, their ons moving too quickly for the eye to follow. The dense, crisp sounds of bde meeting bde filled the tent like a torrential downpour oal. The Rangers, though paralyzed, felt cold sweat trickle down their faces as they listeo the deadly symphony of strikes. They couldn’t see the battle clearly, but the sounds alone painted a vivid picture of its ferocity.

  Sydria’s relentless assault forced Rosina back, each strike aimed with precision and fury. As they nded, Sydria positioned herself protectively in front of the surviving Rangers. Rosina, however, did not retreat far. A pair of ethereal wings unfurled from her back, lifting her gracefully into the air. She asded to the steel beams supp the roof of the tent, her movements deliberate and unhurried.

  The wings were the gift of the Swooping Hawk Path, granting Rosina the ability to traverse the skies with ease. Perched atop the structure, she reached into a hidden partment arieved a long-barreled on. It was an Eldar missile uncher, sleek and deadly, desigo fire armor-pierg projectiles.

  Rosina smiled down at her oppos, the mog expression never leaving her face. With calcuted precision, she aimed the on at the ground below. A single missile ejected, trailing sparks as it desded. When it struck, the groued in a blinding inferno. Fmes roared through the tent, ing everything in their path as the shockwave bsted debris outward.

  The tent became a maelstrom of fire and chaos, the seari and choking smoke engulfing the battlefield. For the Rangers who had barely begun to recover, it was another devastating blow. Sydria, standing her ground amidst the storm, tightened her grip on the Mirror Swords. Her gaze fixed on Rosina, who hovered above the destru like a dark angel of war.

  For the Eldar Rangers, the battle was nothing short of a nightmare. Rosina’s relentless assault overwhelmed them. She moved with the precision of aire Eldar warhost, wielding the Executioner with deadly fi times, she was a Screaming Banshee, paralyzing her foes with psychic wails and cutting them down with elegant brutality. At other moments, she became a Swooping Hawk, rainih from above. When she vanished into the shadows, she reappeared like a Ranger, striking with lethal precision. Her mastery of multiple paths made her an uable and unstoppable force.

  The Eldar had ehe battle believing they held the advahey had fought Rosina before, and while she had defeated them in every skirmish, those defeats had felt circumstantial—a matter of her skills as a duelist and her ing in guerril warfare. This time, they expected victory. Rosina had o hide and was bound to defend the altar. They had the numbers, firepower, and carefully id traps on their side.

  But the Rangers quickly realized h they were. From the moment the battle began, Rosina seized trol. The traps meant to ensnare her were useless against her fluid movements. Every tactic the Rangers deployed was tered with chilling ease. She wasn’t merely fighting to defend the altar—she dictated the rhythm and flow of the battlefield. Her movements were so precise and her mastery of different bat disciplines so seamless that it felt like fag aire warhost trated in a single body.

  Sydria, the most experienced among them, threw herself into attack after attack, but Rosina deflected her every strike. The Eldar leader, once fident, now realized she had uimated her foe. Rosina wasn’t merely strong—she was a force of nature.