Snippet #2723961

"And my name isn't Miniel!" she screamed. She found herself growing taller, and more refined. The clothes she was wearing grew with her but her eyes widened, noticing the muscles she could see on her own arms. Her sword became too small and only filled half her hand. "What the?" Her remained white, but a single strained lost its colour and turned to an unholy black. "No. No!!" the man in front of her screamed. "You weren't meant to age this quickly!" Her eyes hid behind her hair as her memories returned.

"We try, but we try too hard and it's a waste of my time," she said suddenly. He stilled instantly, and a grin spread on her face. "That's the last thing mum said to you before she conceived a Nephilim with a 'pitiful human', yes? I was there, but I forgot it. You got rid of it for me, didn't you?" she asked, her voice slowly but surely becoming angrier by the second. "I remember Grandpa telling us that mum wouldn't be coming home and that you weren't allowed to enter Heaven either. You found out about the Nephilim, didn't you? His name, it was Tristan." she recalled. "Oh yeah, he looked like her. White hair and-" he charged without a word, and she gave out a 'hah' before leaping to the side.

Her own sword (the one she had dropped) changed places with the old one in her hand, and while he was vulnerable, she slashed at his stomach.