The Slaughter at Varranth’s Crossing

The night was silent, save for the drip of blood from the last general’s throat. That’s when the knight appeared, his glaive shining with runes, and a Crai’Gai Suppression Crystal hit the ground, humming with a choking, mana-draining force.   Vionna staggered for a heartbeat as the crystal bit into her essence — and then she smiled, a slow, wide, terrifying thing.   “I haven’t been held back like this in a long time…”   Her voice was a low purr.   “I think I’m going to enjoy this.”   The knight lunged. The first clash was thunder. Sparks exploded as Moednarr met the glaive. Vionna twisted like a serpent, ducking under the sweeping strike, her boot connecting with the knight’s ribs hard enough to crack bone. He retaliated with a downward slash that grazed her shoulder, blood spraying across the moonlit dirt — but Vi only laughed, her green eyes glowing.   Moednarr: “Ah, there it is. The real you. I was getting bored of that restrained little assassin act.”   Vionna (grinning, blood dripping off her face): “Oh, don’t worry, darling — I’m done playing nice.”   Her Eye activated - instead of green, it turned light purple. Time slowed. She saw everything — the angle of his elbow, the twitch of his heel, the exact moment he would breathe.   She parried the next strike with a perfect angle, sliding past the glaive’s haft and carving a thin line across the knight’s chest. She was faster, sharper — even suppressed.   Moednarr: “Hah! His guard’s wide open! Split him in half, left shoulder to hip!”   Vionna (laughing): “Yes, yes, YES—!” [slashes through him, blood sprays]   Moednarr: “Delicious.”   “Oh, you’re good,” she laughed, dodging another strike by mere millimeters. “But not good enough.”   And then it happened.   The ground shook. The suppression crystal cracked.   "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH"   Vionna’s aura erupted into a storm of emerald and crimson flames, the impossible manifestation of both Green and Red Crai’Gai at once. The knight stumbled back in disbelief as the crystal shattered outright, its shards dissolving into motes of light.     “You thought this would hold me back? You should’ve brought two.”   Her speed skyrocketed — beyond human, beyond Asiendalian. Each slash left rifts in the air itself, Moednarr screaming like a banshee as she cut space around her.   Moednarr: “He’s panicking. Look at those eyes. Do you feel it? That terror?”   Vionna (licks blood off her lip): “Mmm, I feel it… it makes me tingle.”   The knight swung again, desperate now, and Vi didn’t just dodge — she was gone. Her voice echoed behind him.   “Too slow.”   Moednarr: “More speed! Don’t give him air!”   Vionna: “Say less!”   Moednarr: “Yessss. Just like that! Carve him apart!”   Her blade carved diagonally through his back, black blood spraying. She appeared in front of him, her grin manic, twisting Moednarr in a reverse grip and driving it upward through his chest.   She didn’t stop there. She pulled the blade free, spinning in a blur of glowing steel, her strikes multiplying until the knight was nothing but shredded meat, a fine red mist hanging in the air.   She stood there for a moment, bathed in his blood, laughing — a cold, psychotic, beautiful laugh that made even the shadows recoil.   “I told you…”   Her breath came heavy, her pupils dilated.   “Don’t hold back next time.”   The survivors — aides, guards, the other commanders — were frozen in place. Literally. From Vi fear radiated like a suffocating wave, locking them in place, unable to move, unable to breathe.   She turned to them, her expression cold, predatory.   “Well… since you’re all here…”   She walked forward, slowly, deliberately, Moednarr dripping blood. None of them could run. None of them could scream.   Moednarr: “The commanders are next. They’re not moving. Shall we?”   Vionna (tilting her head with a wicked grin): “One by one. Slow enough for them to know what’s coming.”   One by one, she executed them.   No hesitation.   No mercy.   No survivors.   By the end, Varranth’s Crossing was silent but for the sound of her boots splashing through pools of blood. Every leader, every officer was dead — their bodies strewn like broken dolls.   Vionna sheathed Moednarr, wiping blood from her face with her sleeve, her grin settling into a satisfied smirk.   “Now that was fun.”   When word of what happened reached the Coalition, terror spread like wildfire. Soldiers whispered about the Emerald Reaper, the Laughing Wraith, the woman who slaughtered a whole war council and painted the earth red.