Rose knew the Mountain God would arrive within moments, her time slipping away like grains of sand. She stepped toward the ceremonial dress, her hands trembling as she picked it up. The silence of the temple pressed against her chest like a weight she could not lift. As she tried to drape the cold fabric over her shoulders, a small stone slipped from her pocket—the stone Emily had given her.
She froze, staring at it. For a fleeting moment, her chest tightened, and she picked it up with trembling fingers. Her hand clenched around it as if holding onto the last remnants of her fading strength. A whisper of warmth flickered through her, but it was fleeting, drowned by the crushing tide of despair.
The Mountain God appeared, her presence like a storm of black fire that consumed the room. The temple trembled with her power, the ground splitting under her steps. Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she saw Rose standing there, dressed for sacrifice. "Perfect," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she grabbed Rose's hand.
Rose raised her gaze, her eyes hollow, her voice cracking under the weight of a thousand broken moments. "You were my hope," she whispered, "but you turned it into a nightmare."
The Mountain God laughed, cruel and mocking, her grip tightening. "Don't try to look pitiful—it won't work on me."
And then it happened. Again.
The cycle restarted. Time rewound itself, cruel and unyielding. Rose was thrust back into the same moment, the same steps leading her to the same fate. The dress. The stone. The Mountain God. Every time, she would say the same words: "You were my hope, but you turned it into a nightmare."
Yet, every time, the Mountain God's response was different—mocking, dismissive, amused—but the end never changed.
With every loop, Rose felt her resolve crumble a little more, her soul battered by the weight of repetition. Her tears dried up long ago, replaced by a void that gnawed at her heart. Each cycle carved deeper wounds into her spirit, the hope she once carried shattered into fragments too small to piece together. And yet, she kept going, bound by the cruel strings of fate, caught in a nightmare without end.
It was the 101st time Rose had been dragged back, forced to relive the same twisted nightmare. But this time, she wasn't trembling. She wasn't pleading. She stood tall as the Mountain God emerged, her presence as dark and suffocating as ever.
The god's smirk curled in anticipation, expecting the broken girl. But Rose didn't cower. She stepped forward with steady, deliberate strides. The Mountain God narrowed her eyes, her curiosity piqued.
Rose stopped inches from her, the tension between them crackling like a storm. Slowly, she raised her hand and her trembling fingers brushing against the cold, unyielding face of the god. Her touch was fragile, almost tender, as if she were caressing the remnants of a shattered dream."You were my hope," Rose said, her voice like a blade cutting through the silence. "But you twisted it into a nightmare."
The Mountain God's smirk faltered for a split second before she grabbed Rose's hand in an iron grip. "And you," she replied darkly, "are my hope as well."
Rose's lips curled into a bitter smile as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her voice turned sharp, every word laced with venom. "Then finish it. Kill me."
The god's eyes flashed with something unreadable before her expression hardened. She shoved Rose back with force, her hand flying to her sword. But as she tried to draw it, her fingers froze. The blade didn't budge. Rage contorted her face. "What did you do?" she hissed, her voice trembling with fury.
Rose stood there, her tears gone, replaced by an icy defiance. She tilted her head, her gaze piercing. "What's the matter?" she said, her tone dripping with mockery. "Can't pull your precious sword?"
The Mountain God's hand trembled as she tried again, her power faltering for the first time. Rose let out a hollow laugh, stepping closer with a predator's calm. "You've spent lifetimes breaking me," she said coldly. "Did you think I'd let you win forever?"
The Mountain God's anger turned to something far more dangerous—fear. And Rose relished it.
Rose stood still, a haunting calm enveloping her like a shroud. Her eyes locked onto the Mountain God, piercing and unyielding. Her voice was steady, almost too quiet, yet it carried the weight of something undeniable.
"Did you take Lily's soul?" she asked.
The Mountain God hesitated, her body trembling as if shackled by an unseen force. Her lips moved against her will, the truth dragged out like a confession from a sinner. "Yes," she hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage.
"Come here," Rose commanded, her tone sharper than any blade.
The Mountain God's feet moved involuntarily, her once-majestic aura reduced to nothing but helpless compliance. She approached slowly, like a predator turned prey.
"Kneel," Rose ordered, her voice a chilling crescendo.
And the Mountain God fell. Against every instinct, every ounce of her stolen strength, she knelt before Rose, her pride shattered.
Rose laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. She covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders trembling with the weight of emotions too deep to name.
"Tell me something," she said, her voice low and laced with venom. "Can you turn back time?"
The Mountain God glared, her fury smoldering beneath the surface. "No," she spat. "My power is to steal, to take the abilities of others-
"Of course," Rose said with a cold, knowing smirk. "You're nothing but a thief."
Her words struck like thunder, and for a moment, the Mountain God faltered.
Rose stepped closer, her voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "The first time you killed me," she began, her eyes dark with fury, "the status screen didn't call it a mission accomplished. Instead, it gave me something—something you couldn't steal. A memory. A piece of who I was."
The Mountain God's expression twisted, dumbfounded and confused, for she was unable to understand what Rose was talking about. Yet, she was too afraid to ask anything, confusion mixing with fear.
"And then it told me," Rose continued, her voice growing sharper, more powerful, "that I had to die a hundred times. A hundred deaths to reclaim what you stole—my memories, my strength, my essence. Every time you killed me, you thought you were breaking me. But you weren't. You were giving me back 10% of what was mine."
The Mountain God's fury cracked, her expression betraying the first flickers of true fear.
"And now," Rose said, her voice rising like a storm, "after all this, after every death, I came here already knowing the truth. There's no temple heart. No sacred core to this place. The heart…" She leaned in, her voice a blade, "…is you."
The Mountain God's eyes widened, her rage twisting into panic.
"You thought you were invincible," Rose sneered, her laughter cold and biting. "You thought you held all the cards. But you're nothing. Just a parasite feeding on the power of others. And now, even that is slipping through your fingers."
The Mountain God struggled, but her body wouldn't obey. She knelt there, bound by Rose's words, her own strength useless.
"You don't even understand, do you?" Rose whispered, her gaze unrelenting. "You've already lost. And now, you're nothing but the last piece of what's mine to reclaim."
The Mountain God could do nothing but kneel in silence, the weight of Rose's wrath crushing her into the ground. The hunter had become the hunted, and for the first time, the Mountain God knew what it meant to be powerless.
Rose stood, her expression void of warmth, and commanded in a voice sharp as steel, "Release Lily's soul."
The Mountain God trembled under the weight of the words, compelled to obey. With a flicker of dark energy, Lily's soul was freed, shimmering faintly in the air like a fragile thread of light.
"It's done," the Mountain God said, her voice hollow. "But it won't change anything. She's already dead."
Rose's gaze turned colder, her eyes dark pools of unyielding resolve. Without hesitation, she reached for her sword, the blade gleaming like judgment itself.
"You've taken enough," Rose whispered, her voice carrying both fury and sorrow.
She drove the sword into the Mountain God's heart. The being gasped, staggering before collapsing to the ground. The black aura around her flickered, waning into nothingness.
As the Mountain God lay there, her breaths shallow and fading, Rose loomed over her. "I already know," she said, her voice a quiet storm, "that you're no god. Just a tragic human, cursed by greed and cruelty, trapped in this mountain for eternity. You're not divine. You're a relic of despair."
The Mountain God's eyes widened in faint recognition, but Rose's expression didn't soften. She turned, walking away with heavy steps, her sword glinting with the blood of justice and vengeance.
"None of it matters to me anymore," Rose murmured, her voice carrying into the night.
The screen flickered to life, casting an eerie glow in the now-silent room. The words scrolled across its surface like an indifferent observer:
[Congratulations]
[You have completed the second mission]
[ You have gained a gift.You can now access detailed information.]
Rose didn't bother to look. The words held no meaning to her anymore. Her eyes, dull and empty, stared ahead as she turned away from the glowing screen. Without hesitation, she walked out of the room, her steps echoing in the hollow silence.
Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened by the weight of lives lost and truths uncovered. The air around her was cold, almost suffocating, yet she didn't falter. She didn't need the screen's praise, its rewards, or its hollow promises.
Outside, the night was still. The snow, relentless and uncaring, fell around her, blanketing the blood-stained ground in a fragile veil of purity. She didn't stop to mourn. There was no time for grief, no room for weakness.
She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, her knuckles white. Somewhere deep inside her, a faint ember burned—of purpose, of rage, of something unnameable. Without a word, she moved forward, leaving the temple and its ghosts behind.