The humid Kvatch air shattered as Nu-Mantia ripped open a void rift above Sheena’s courtyard. "Enough of your dusty throne, Duchess!" she shrieked, hurling a screaming orb of pure oblivion onto the flagstones. Darkness coalesced into a towering lich – bones of fractured stars, robes of lost whispers, radiating soul-crushing dread. Nu-Mantia cackled. "One stroke, Queen of Kvatch! Can your steel bite this?"

Sheena sighed, boredom etching her face. Slowly, she rose. Her hand found The Demented Requiem. The Zweihander slid free silently. Sunlight blazed along its edge as she stepped forward, unhurried. The lich lunged with claws of despair. Sheena raised the blade in a single languid arc – like brushing aside cobwebs.

The Requiem parted the void-flesh. No impact, no spray. Only a sighing sound as darkness flowed around the blade. The pressure vanished. The lich stood whole for a heartbeat… then its upper half slid diagonally away. Both sections dissolved like smoke.

Nu-Mantia’s sneer froze into horror. Sheena flicked void-dust from the Requiem’s pristine blade. "One stroke," she stated coolly. Click – the sword sheathed. "You waste my afternoon, Mantia. Fetch me wine." She reclaimed her throne. Nu-Mantia trembled amidst shadow-smoke, defeated by effortless, terrifying boredom.