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She seemed to stay in the air for what seemed an eternity as she cleared the gap between the two combatants, the Dark Eldar's gaze locked with that of the daemon.
Hitting the ground lightly, the Archite leapt again and executed a perfect flip over the daemon's head. Without even releasing it, she had exposed herself for an instant.
She felt the cold embrace of razor sharp claws pierce her back. Leaping away in reflex, the Dark Eldar's mind swam.
The pleasure of being touched by such a being, being deemed worthy enough to be attacked.
Knowing that a follow up attack would come without warning, Drael'Kaen held her weapons at the ready, ready to strike or defend herself if needed.
An instant later, the daemon struck. Without even having to think about her, the Wych just reacted. Darting aside and landing a perfect landing, Drael'Kaen flickered her knife out to strike the Slaaneshi daemon from the side.
However, her well timed attack was countered as easily as Drael'Kaen had evaded the daemons attack. Metal hit inorganic flesh. Time slowed once again as the daemon screamed it's defiance at the Dark Eldar.
Once again, the two foes eyes met. And for a chilly instant, she felt the sorrow of a thousand years. She felt the eternal torment that the Greater Daemon had to endure for this brief and fleeting window into the material realm. And now Drael'Kaen was the one that was trying to end it prematurely and send it back to Warp.
Without even releasing it, her body was moving, defending and flicking away the daemons blows with relative ease even though her mind continued to process the flood of information being exchanged as the two warriors exchanged feints, dodges and attacks with lightning speed.
As they thought, one thought kept recurring. That she was the only thing that stood between this daemon achieving it's goals and the coldness of the Warp.
With a force of will, Drael'Kaen dropped her guard. Her body railed against the prospect of inevitable death. At last, she forced herself to drop to one knee, her weapon held out in front of her in a sign of ritual appeasement within her own culture. Her head was bowed down in respect to her foe.
She waited for the death blow.
She expected to feel the touch of the daemon one last time.
It never came.
Eventually, she allowed herself to glance up at where the daemon had been.
Before her was the daemon. It's perfect form showing no signs of fatique or even a scratch. Even before Drael'Kaen could speak, the daemon seemed to fade away into nothingness.
Before the form of the daemon faded completely, 'You have passed my test, Drael'Kaen. My plans for you shall yet come to pass and when I require you, you shall know it' drifted through her thoughts.