Either way, Daisy won.
Mutants were essentially a team of mages—high attack power, devastating psychic offense, but far too fragile up close. Glass cannon, every one of them. Once you knew their ability, fighting them wasn't particularly difficult. A razor-sharp mind only mattered if the body could keep up.
If Emma went Diamond Form to absorb the blade, the psychic grip dropped and Daisy had her opening. If she kept the psychic assault up and didn't shift, the Godslayer took her in the throat. No version of this ended well for the White Queen.
Emma saw the logic immediately. Diamond Form was the less fatal option. Her body transformed, crystalline and luminous—and worth noting, Emma's Diamond Form had nothing particularly to do with diamond. Whatever it actually was, the hardness and strength far exceeded anything real diamond could manage.
She could see the Godslayer coming. She knew exactly where it would hit. Her body simply didn't move fast enough.
But Daisy had already closed the distance, moving faster than the blade itself. She caught it before Emma could brace, brought it around in a controlled arc—aimed at the neck, not to kill. A lesson. This woman was too arrogant.
Emma, cornered, dropped Diamond Form and threw everything into a fresh surge of psychic control at that exact moment. The blade was only a few centimeters (an inch or two) from her neck.
The standoff—reversed. Sword at Emma's throat. Emma's psychic assault hammering down on Daisy's mind like a gang battering a locked door. Daisy could not afford to let Emma in. There were too many secrets.
Emma was in equal danger. One lapse in concentration and she lost her head.
"You drop the sword. We both walk."
"Works for me."
Neither of them moved.
Emma had to hold the psychic lockdown perfectly or the blade fell. Daisy had to hold out until Emma broke, or she'd never get free. First one to slip died.
"I'll agree to help you rescue them." Emma said it through clenched teeth.
"Perfect. Let go of my mind and we go right now."
Full circle. Emma didn't trust her not to take her head the moment the grip released.
Reasoning failed. Promises failed. Daisy gave up on words entirely. She settled in, held the sword steady, and simply waited. Let's see whether White Queen's neck was harder, or her sword was harder.
She had reasons to be motivated. Mystique had slipped her vibration scan without leaving a trace. Diamond Form apparently shrugged off her power too. Two consecutive failures for her core ability, back to back. The motivation to recover was very real.
The psychic deadlock held her mostly still, but not completely. She had just enough freedom to control her skin surface. A micro-vibration—barely perceptible, surface only.
The Eastern massage technique, not called upon in some time, came back without effort.
One pulse. Two. Three. Half a meter of air between them—at this range even pure surface vibration carried. She adjusted the frequency as she went, calibrating for Emma specifically. She had enough experience by now to tune for the individual.
Intangible waves moved through Emma's lightly dressed form, relentless and consistent. Any slip in the psychic control and the sword fell. Emma could not afford slips.
Emma noticed something was very wrong almost immediately. This was not any vibration attack she recognized. A large question mark lit up behind her composed expression.
It was like a noose tightening around her neck. The more she held the psychic suppression, the tighter it drew—and if she released it, she could enjoy the sensation fully, but the price was her life. Dead ends in every direction, dark and featureless ahead.
Daisy's own situation wasn't comfortable either. Her mind was split between two fronts—holding her defenses while running the vibration—and she was straining hard on both. She still had enough left to keep firing words into Emma's psychic space, but barely.
By her estimate, ten minutes was the ceiling for an opponent in normal human form. Emma had far more reserves and willpower than most, but the same limit existed somewhere.
"Emma Frost. Admit defeat. You have no winning move here."
Silence. Emma's pride would not allow it.
"Hey, auntie—this is rough going, isn't it?"
"Hey, auntie—what are the Hellfire Club membership benefits? Pitch it to me."
"Hey, auntie—are you about to hit your limit?"
Emma's jaw tightened. She was not going to be baited.
Sweat ran down her neck. A faint tremor moved through her body—not vibration power, the body's own response at the edge of its tolerance.
Emma was not some sheltered novice. She'd pushed into extreme territory before—asphyxiation games, breath-play taken further than Western thrill-seekers who simply wanted a scare. She understood very well what the edge of the body felt like. She was standing on it now. The difference was that this time, the price of stepping off wasn't a hospital visit. It was her head.
Enjoy a moment of pleasure and lose her life, or continue enduring. Those were the only two choices.
She committed. A final burst of psychic energy—surging out in a spiral. It hammered through Daisy's defenses, broke the vibration rhythm, and the sheer overflow shoved a physical wave into the room. Daisy staggered back two steps.
Diamond Form immediately. Emma turned and ran.
"This is your own office. Where exactly are you going?"
Daisy was faster. She ignored the headache, reached with her left hand, grabbed Emma's wrist, and pulled.
Diamond Form felt completely different in the grip—cool, near-luminous, density and hardness far beyond anything ordinary. Probably below adamantium and vibranium at the absolute top of the scale, but leagues beyond all else.
Emma deliberately polished the surface of her forearm to frictionless. Like grabbing a length of silk—Daisy's hand slid off.
She was already compensating. The moment contact broke, she extended her fingernails—hardened a notch above Diamond Form—and clamped them onto Emma's diamond wrist.
She pulled. The gleaming White Queen was in her arms.