After a few moments while your brain calms down, you feel... a strong link to her, rapidly cooling panic and surprise fading, so... you're still connected to her. Still, the memory thing was unexpected, but is something you'll have to explore later. Shaking your heard, you suddenly find yourself back in your body, in your armor, pulling a woman out of a slab of tar, flaring your magical aura. She's still screaming as the sticky tar, hooks deeply planted into the woman rip loose chunks of flesh as Theresa's war axe tears the Weaver from the face of reality, grinding into fiery oblivion.
As the last of the Weaver is sucked away, disconnecting, the crystal pad that was in use detonates, firing raw, liquid mana straight up, which washes over you, the woman in your arms, and bolts of lightning rip loose, shearing massive holes in the hull. With the death of the weaver, you feel the teleportation blocking spell it was using flex and snap. Even from here, you can feel small portals rip open on the face of reality as new draconic mana signatures register before everything dims a bit. Blinking, you realize that the liquid mana had been affecting you somehow.
You feel a hand on your shoulder, and the fox goddess whispers into you hear, blowing slightly, "Gods don't exist, this is your explanation." before the hand disappears. You feel your body seeming to wrench, and a body seems to catch you as you're thrown, a very feminine one with a bit of muscle, that feels familiar and you realize that Loren in her draconic form is behind you, having 'caught' you. A boiling hot mana washes over you, and you look up as your mother returns, dragging the torso by the head of the Emperor, his arms and legs having been burnt off, and several white hot needles penetrating his body. Your mother, Tiamat Blackhorn, does... something on her arm, and the boiling hot mana is suddenly reduced, and she's just in the muscular, taught form she arrived in. Is she bringing the emperor so that Theresa, or possibly Loren, can execute him?
Theresa stumbles to her feet, the axe still grinding before she turns settles it down and turns off the strange black half moon of death, looking around. She reaches up and touches her throat guard, "All troops, victory conditions." The battle almost immediately begins to calm down. A movement out of the corner of your eye flicks, and the shadow returns, but a dark elf begins to rise, a dark elf with very blue hair. The woman in your arms wrenches, and spasms, her body undergoing some seriously rapid transformation as whatever toxic mana in her is expelled.
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