The battlefield was littered with craters and scorch marks, the once-solid ground now a war-torn wasteland. The Vengeful One stood amidst the chaos, her body drenched in sweat and blood, her chest heaving with each labored breath. Her arms trembled as she wiped at the blood trickling into her eyes, her regeneration slower than ever from the relentless strain of the extended battle.
She couldn't help but chuckle, the sound low and almost unhinged as she staggered back a step, her crimson eyes locking onto the Umbra Wyrm. The massive creature stood tall and unwavering, its obsidian scales gleaming in the dim light as though mocking her efforts. Its sulfurous eyes narrowed, and its massive form shifted, straightening with an almost regal air.
Her laughter faltered, replaced by a growing tension in her chest. Her gaze swept over the beast, her sharp mind catching the subtle shift in its stance, the way its wings flared slightly, its tail swaying in calculated control. It wasn't raging anymore. It wasn't desperate.
It was looking down on her.
Veins bulged across her forehead as this realization sank in, a pressure building behind her eyes that had nothing to do with the physical strain of the fight. This wasn't the fiery rush of Hunt's Euphoria. No, this was something deeper, darker, something that made her fists clench so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
The beast, this walking myth, this overgrown lizard—was mocking her.
"You..." she growled, her voice trembling as her jaw clenched. Her body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. "You think you're better than me? You think you can look down on me?!"
The Umbra Wyrm snarled in response, its sulfurous eyes narrowing further as if taunting her. It stomped the ground once, a deliberate motion that sent tremors through the battlefield, as if to say, You are beneath me.
Her laughter returned, harsher now, almost manic as her aura flared around her, flickering and pulsing like a living shadow. "Oh, you've made a mistake, beast. A big mistake. You think I'm the prey here? You think you're untouchable because of your legend?"
Her voice rose, her rage bleeding into every word as she took a step forward, then another, her stance firm despite the shaking of her exhausted limbs. "I am not prey. I am not beneath anyone! I am the Dark Messiah! I am the Vengeful One! And I will make you regret underestimating me!"
The Umbra Wyrm roared, its wings flaring wide as it crouched, preparing to lunge again. Its claws scraped the ground, its massive tail coiling like a battering ram.
But her smirk returned, her fiery gaze locking onto the beast with unrelenting fury. "That's it. Keep looking down on me. It'll make it all the sweeter when I tear you apart."
The ground trembled beneath their feet as the two combatants squared off once more, their shared defiance echoing across the ruined battlefield. This wasn't just a fight anymore—it was a clash of pride, and she refused to let the beast have the last word.
On the ridge overlooking the battlefield, the troops of the 1st Dark Marine Battalion and the 53rd Battle Group huddled together, their eyes glued to the shimmering light orb conjured by Private Illarion. The scene displayed before them wasn't just awe-inspiring—it was terrifying.
Their queen, the Vengeful One, stood bloodied and battered, her once-fluid movements now strained, yet her fiery aura burned brighter than ever. Her laughter echoed through the projection, jagged and sharp, as she hurled taunts at the towering Umbra Wyrm. Her fury was palpable, a living force that seemed to ripple through the air even from this distance.
"She's... enjoying this?" Corporal Yevan muttered, his voice a mix of disbelief and nervous admiration as he watched her stagger back, wiping blood from her eyes.
"Not just enjoying it," Private Orlen whispered, his eyes wide. "She's thriving. Look at her—she's practically feeding off it."
A low whistle came from Sergeant Tharos, who leaned against his halberd, shaking his head. "I've seen plenty of commanders lose their cool in the heat of battle, but this? This isn't rage. This is something else. It's like... she's offended."
"Did you see that grin?" another soldier chimed in. "The Wyrm straightened up, and it was like something in her snapped. If it were me, I'd be on my knees begging her forgiveness."
The group murmured in agreement, their voices low and filled with a mix of awe and trepidation. Illarion, still maintaining the light orb, glanced back at his comrades, a wry grin on his face. "Makes you think twice about ever stepping out of line, huh?"
"Twice? Try a hundred times," Yevan replied with a nervous chuckle. "I wouldn't even dream of doing anything that could make her think I was looking down on her."
Private Orlen shuddered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Imagine what she'd do if one of us pulled something stupid. She'd—she'd obliterate us!"
Tharos let out a low laugh, though there was a hint of nervousness in it. "And we'd deserve it. Anyone dumb enough to get on her bad side after seeing this? Yeah, they've got it coming."
The troops fell silent for a moment, their gazes returning to the projection as their queen shouted at the Umbra Wyrm, her voice ringing with raw fury. She launched herself at the beast again, her fists glowing with dark energy as she struck its obsidian scales with relentless determination.
Finally, one of the younger recruits, his voice barely above a whisper, said what they were all thinking. "She's... incredible. Terrifying, but incredible. I'll follow her to the ends of the world if it means never being on the receiving end of that rage."
The group nodded in solemn agreement, a shared understanding settling over them. Their queen wasn't just powerful—she was a force of nature, a being who demanded respect not just through her might but through her sheer, unyielding presence.
"Let's make one thing clear," Tharos said, his tone firm as he addressed the group. "None of us, and I mean none of us, will ever even look like we're doubting her. Got it?"
"Got it," came the unanimous reply, every soldier nodding in agreement.
As the battle raged on in the projection, their resolve only grew stronger. The Vengeful One wasn't just their queen—she was their unstoppable, awe-inspiring leader. And none of them had any intention of crossing her path in the wrong way. Ever.
The battlefield's chaos dimmed for a fleeting moment as clarity pierced through the haze in her mind. The relentless fire of Hunt's Euphoria subsided, allowing a sharp focus to take its place. A smirk tugged at her bloodied lips as a memory resurfaced—an ability bestowed upon her, one she'd nearly forgotten in the haze of battle.
The Umbra Wyrm roared in the distance, its sulfurous eyes burning with fury as shadowy energy began to gather in its maw once more. The ground trembled under its power, the sheer magnitude of its next attack threatening to obliterate everything in its path.
But the Vengeful One was ready.
Her hands moved in a blur, forming intricate signs with a speed and precision that defied her exhausted state. Each motion carried purpose, her fingers twisting and flowing as shadowy energy crackled around her palms. Symbols of power flared into existence, hanging in the air like ghostly sigils before being absorbed into her rapidly building spell.
"Aegis of Equilibrium," she intoned, her voice low and commanding, the final sign snapping into place as the glowing runes around her hands surged outward.
A dome of shimmering, translucent energy erupted around her, its surface alive with swirling patterns of light and shadow. The Umbra Wyrm unleashed its attack with a deafening roar, a massive beam of shadowy flames tearing through the air toward her. The force of the impact slammed into the dome, the sheer power driving her backward across the torn ground. Her boots dug deep into the dirt as she slid, the shield groaning under the assault.
Her arm trembled, her bones groaning under the strain, but her smirk only grew wider. "Not so tough when you face yourself, are you?" she muttered through gritted teeth.
As the attack reached its peak intensity, she gritted her teeth and pushed herself further. Her left arm, already weakened and splintered from the fight, moved painfully, her fingers forming a circle as though mimicking a scope. The protest of her cracking bones sent sharp jolts of pain through her body, but she ignored it, forcing her aura to bend to her will.
The Aegis of Equilibrium flared, condensing its reflective energy into a single, concentrated point within her improvised "scope." The shield, designed to deflect energy back at its source, now obeyed her command to channel it into a precise counterattack.
With a deafening roar, the redirected energy fired in a concentrated beam from her hand, a searing lance of shadow and light that tore through the air with an intensity that rivaled the Wyrm's original strike. The beam struck its chest, the exact spot she'd been eyeing since the battle began.
The impact was catastrophic.
The Umbra Wyrm's obsidian scales, so impervious throughout the fight, cracked and shattered under the concentrated blast. The beam carved deep into its chest, piercing through its seemingly impenetrable hide and searing the vulnerable flesh beneath. A sickening screech tore from the beast's throat, a sound of agony and disbelief as its legendary defenses failed it.
Blood—thick, dark, and steaming—poured from the gaping wound as the beast staggered, its massive body slumping to the ground. Its claws raked against the dirt, dragging its bulk forward in a feeble attempt to retaliate, but its strength was failing. The once-mighty Umbra Wyrm, a terror of legends, now crawled in the dirt like a wounded animal.
The Vengeful One stood where she had been, panting heavily as the adrenaline coursing through her veins began to wane. Her left arm hung limp at her side, splintered with jagged cracks running through it like a fractured stone statue. Every breath sent sharp pain through her chest, but she paid it no mind.
Her crimson eyes locked onto the beast, her expression twisting into something manic. A dry, raspy laugh bubbled up from her throat, growing louder until it echoed across the battlefield. It was a sound of triumph, exhaustion, and unrelenting defiance.
"Not so invincible now, are you?" she taunted, her voice hoarse but brimming with satisfaction. She took a shaky step forward, her laughter breaking into fits as she looked down at the crawling creature. "All that power, all that legend… and you still couldn't beat me."
The Umbra Wyrm let out a low, pained growl, its massive form twitching as it struggled to move. But it was clear—the battle was over. The queen stood victorious, her fire extinguished but her resolve unshaken. She straightened, her dark aura flickering weakly but still present, as she looked upon the beast that had dared to challenge her.
And she laughed again, a sound that sent chills down the spines of her watching troops, her triumph etched into the shattered ground and the air heavy with the scent of blood and ash.
The ridge erupted with an explosion of noise as the massive form of the Umbra Wyrm finally collapsed, its broken body dragging across the dirt in a futile attempt to move. The soldiers of the 1st Dark Marine Battalion and the 53rd Battle Group stood in stunned silence for a fraction of a second, disbelief etched across their faces as they watched their queen, bloodied and battered, standing tall against the defeated beast.
Then, all at once, the cheers began.
A roar of triumph echoed across the mountains as the troops erupted into wild celebration, their voices blending into a cacophony of whoops, whistles, and victorious shouts. Marines clapped one another on the back, their earlier nerves replaced with sheer exhilaration. Some thrust their weapons into the air, others pounded their fists against their armor, the sound of metal ringing out like a battle hymn.
"She did it! She actually did it!" shouted Private Orlen, his youthful face flushed with excitement as he grabbed the nearest soldier, shaking them in disbelief.
"What did you expect? She's our queen! She's unstoppable!" Sergeant Tharos bellowed, his usual stoicism breaking as a grin split his rugged face.
Even the always-stern Grand Commandant Lian, who rarely let emotion touch her disciplined demeanor, let out an audible cheer. Her normally composed features softened, her lips curving into a rare and genuine smile as she raised her sword high in the air. "Long live the queen!" she shouted, her voice ringing out over the din, drawing even louder cries of approval from the gathered troops.
"Long live the queen! Long live the queen!" the chant began, spreading through the ranks like wildfire.
The shimmering orb of Private Illarion's light magic still hovered, displaying the battlefield in vivid detail. The soldiers could see her there, standing amidst the carnage, her left arm cracked and limp, her cloak torn and fluttering in the wind, but her head held high. Bloodied but victorious.
"She looks like a demon out of legend," Corporal Yevan muttered, his awe barely concealed as he stared at the image of her. "But she's ours. She's our demon."
"And she just took down a beast we thought was unbeatable," someone else said, their voice filled with reverence.
"Of course she did," Tharos replied, his grin widening as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "She's the Dark Messiah. The Vengeful One. There's nothing she can't do."
As the troops continued to cheer, their voices carrying over the mountains, the sheer magnitude of what they'd just witnessed began to sink in. Their queen, their leader, had done the impossible. She had faced a legend—and won.
Lian glanced at the orb once more, her heart swelling with pride as she watched the Vengeful One laugh through her exhaustion, her dark aura still faintly flickering around her. For the first time, the Grand Commandant allowed herself to feel unreserved excitement, her gloved hand clenching into a fist at her side.
"What a queen we serve," she murmured to herself, her lips still curved into a smile.
The chanting and cheering showed no signs of stopping as the troops celebrated their queen's victory, their morale soaring to heights they'd never thought possible. This was more than a win—it was a moment of legend, one they would carry with them forever. Their queen stood victorious. She had conquered the unconquerable, and nothing in the world could shake their faith in her now.
The battlefield was eerily silent, save for the faint crackle of residual energy in the air and the labored groans of the Umbra Wyrm as it dragged its massive, broken body across the ground. The Vengeful One stood still, her chest rising and falling with deep, deliberate breaths. Blood dripped from her cracked left arm, its stone-like surface fractured and useless, hanging limply at her side.
With a grimace, she reached over, gripping the damaged limb with her right hand. Without hesitation, she tore the arm from its socket, the jagged edges of bone and flesh pulling apart with a sickening rip. Blood gushed momentarily before her divine regeneration kicked in, shadowy tendrils weaving over the wound as a new arm began to grow in its place.
She winced, her teeth gritted against the sharp, stinging sensation as the muscles and bone reformed. It wasn't pain she couldn't handle—it was just another step in the price she paid for power. With a sigh, she flexed her new fingers as the limb fully regenerated, her crimson eyes flicking toward the crawling beast.
"Pathetic," she muttered, her voice cold and dripping with contempt. She took a moment to stretch her body, feeling the weariness in her muscles begin to fade as her wounds sealed. Her aura flared faintly around her as she rolled her shoulders, shaking out the tension from the relentless fight.
When she was sure her strength had returned, she began walking toward the beast, her steps deliberate and measured. A dark spear began to form in her hand, its shaft sleek and jagged, its tip shimmering with a malevolent energy that seemed to absorb the light around it. The weapon pulsed in her grip, a reflection of her own hunger for domination.
The Umbra Wyrm let out a weak growl, its sulfurous eyes flickering as it tried to lift its head. The once-mighty creature now lay broken, defeated, its massive form a shadow of its former terror.
She stopped a few paces from the beast, the ground trembling faintly beneath her boots as her aura expanded. Her lips curved into a dark smile as she raised the spear, the shadows around her coiling and writhing in anticipation of the killing blow.
"It's over," she said quietly, her voice carrying a chilling finality.
But just as she prepared to thrust the spear downward, a voice rang in her mind, stopping her cold. Her eyes widened slightly, her grip on the spear tightening as the voice reverberated through her consciousness.