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She waved her machine gun, whipping rays of erasure through roots and splattering white pus in every direction. Everywhere was some loony profusion of surreal imagery. She shoved a hand to her eyes and blasted herself with a beam of light, repairing the damage immediately with her magic. The trick worked for a few seconds, giving her a clearer perspective on her surroundings, but soon more spores dulled her visual senses. Her fucking kryptonite, she needed her eyes. They were the best thing about her, and this stupid fucking archon somehow knew exactly what to counter, since the spores seemed to have no additional effects whatsoever. Or was this another psychological thing? Was the blurred vision in her mind, did the other girls suffer different afflictions, each tailored to their perceived strengths? Nobody else had complained they couldn't see.

(Chapter 11)