Now in Mertha’s vision,
The snowstorm was relentless, the wind howling like a chorus of ghosts, carrying flurries of white across the frozen expanse. The sky above was a canvas of soft gray, streaked with faint rays of light that broke through the storm in shimmering threads, as though the heavens were trying to reach down and touch the earth. Despite the chaos of the storm, there was a strange peace in the air, an almost sacred stillness beneath the roar of the wind.
Mertha trudged through the deep snow, her boots crunching with each step. She was younger now, smaller than she had become in recent years, but still sturdy, her muscular form carrying the weight of the magic lantern that swung in her gloved hand. The lantern’s light was impossibly bright, cutting through the swirling snow like a beacon. Its glow illuminated the path ahead, casting long shadows behind her. Shadows that didn’t belong to her.
The silhouettes of her clan followed her in a solemn line, their voices rising and falling in murmured conversation. They had no faces, no features—just dark shapes against the shimmering snow, but their words were clear, unmistakable. These were her people, her clan, the ones she had sworn to protect.
“The storm’s getting worse,” one shadow said, its voice heavy with concern.
“I can’t believe she’s leading us through this. Does she even know where she’s going?” another shadow muttered, doubt lacing its tone.
“Quiet,” a third voice hissed. “She’s our leader. Show some respect.”
“She’s just a kid,” a fourth voice whispered, softer than the others, almost pitying.
“Yeah but she’s strong.” Another one chimed in.
Mertha’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Not now. She gripped the lantern tighter, the warmth of its handle seeping into her glove. The light felt like a lifeline, something tangible to hold onto as the storm raged around her. She took a deep breath, her exhale visible in the cold air, and spoke quietly to herself.
“I remember this,” she murmured, her voice low and steady. “I remember this moment like it was yesterday.”
Her dark red hair, longer than it was in her present adult form, enough to brush her shoulders, clung to her damp face. She could feel the weight of her clan’s trust pressing down on her, heavier than the snow that blanketed the ground. She was young then, barely more than a girl, but she had been named leader after the death of their former chieftain. She could still see the ashes of her predecessor scattering into the fiery depths of the volcano, the smoke rising like a solemn prayer to the gods. She wasn’t as muscular then as she was in her present adult form, not as big, but some muscles on her arms showed a little covered in scars.
“That was the day I took the oath,” she said softly, her breath hitching. “I swore to protect them. To lead them. But…”
She glanced down at the lantern in her hand, its light reflecting in her sharp eyes. “I didn’t know what it meant to lead. I didn’t know what it meant to protect. All I knew was how to fight. How to kill.”
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “They honored me for my strength, for the beasts I’d slain with my bare hands. But strength doesn’t mean a damn thing when you don’t know what to do with it.”
The voices behind her grew louder as the shadows murmured amongst themselves, their faceless forms shifting uneasily. She could feel their doubt, their fear, their trust in her wavering like a fragile thread. It stung more than she cared to admit, but she kept moving forward, the light of the lantern guiding her steps.
The snowstorm began to ease as the light from the lantern grew brighter, casting a golden glow across the frozen landscape. Mertha felt an odd sense of calm wash over her, the peace of the visions settling in her chest. She could feel it working on her soul, soothing the ache buried deep within her, but it wasn’t enough to erase what was coming.
“This was the first moment,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “The first moment I realized what failure felt like.”
She stopped abruptly, causing the shadows behind her to shuffle to a halt. For a brief moment, there was only silence, the snow falling gently around them. The air grew tense as the clan murmured in confusion.
“What’s she doing?” one shadow asked.
“Why did we stop?”
“Is something wrong?”
Mertha didn’t answer. Her lips curled into a grin, sharp and confident, but her heart was hammering in her chest. She could feel it—the presence in the storm. The weight of its gaze pressing down on her like an unseen hand.
“Get back,” she said, her voice firm and commanding.
The shadows hesitated, their murmurs growing louder.
“Mertha?”
“What’s going on?”
“Get back!” she barked, turning to face them with a glare that silenced their protests.
As the clan retreated, the storm seemed to part, and a massive shape emerged from the swirling snow. It moved with a slow, deliberate grace, its heavy footsteps crunching against the frozen ground. Standing before Mertha was a beast unlike anything she had ever seen—a Zarjhitt.
It was over nine feet tall, its powerful body rippling with muscle under a thick coat of dark, wiry fur. It resembled a monkey, Its legs were long and sinewy, ending in clawed feet that dug deep into the snow. Its arms were disproportionately large, hanging low, and its hands were massive, with long, sharp fingers that curled like talons. Its face was grotesquely human-like, but stretched and distorted, with a flat, wide nose and deep-set, empty eyes that glowed faintly with a pale yellow light. Its head was crowned with jagged, horn-like ridges that jutted backward, each one uneven and sharp as broken bone.
Its body was a patchwork of color and texture—its chest and shoulders were a mottled gray, like weathered stone, while its arms were a deep crimson, as though stained with blood. Its fur-covered torso transitioned to a pale, sickly blue at its stomach, and its multiple tails—long, thin, and whip-like—were a stark black, each one tipped with a jagged, bony spike.
The Zarjhitt stood motionless, its blank face betraying no emotion as it stared down at Mertha.
“That’s… that’s a Zarjhitt,” one shadow stammered, their voice trembling.
“They’re real?” another whispered.
“I thought they were just a myth.”
“They’re not myths,” an older voice muttered grimly. “They’re nightmares. No one fights a Zarjhitt and lives.”
“Mertha,” one of the shadows called out, panic creeping into their voice. “Are… are you going to fight it?”
Mertha’s grin widened as she cracked her knuckles and punched her fists together, the sound echoing through the still air. “Hell yeah, I am.”
‘This was the day my body wouldn’t fucking listen to me. Crazy isn’t it? This was the day I never came across an enemy like this. This bastard…this bastard scared the shit out of me. It didn’t carry the same aura as the other beasts I killed.’
The clan fell silent, their fear palpable as they watched the young leader square off against the monstrous beast.
Mertha’s grin faltered for the briefest of moments as she stared up at the Zarjhitt, her mind flashing back to the memories of that day. “I remember this,” she thought to herself. “I remember the fear. I remember feeling so small. So… powerless.”
Her hands clenched into fists as the beast’s tails lashed behind it, stirring the snow into the air. “Ten of them died,” she whispered. “Ten people I swore to protect. And I barely did a godsdamn thing to stop it.”
‘I stood there and watched it happen, and I sat there in shock. After, I ended up killing it, but it was a cheap shot. I had stabbed it in the back of the head with a large branch after it bit the heads off one of my clan members..
The Zarjhitt’s glowing eyes narrowed slightly as it leaned forward, its breath steaming in the cold air. Mertha tilted her head up, meeting its gaze with a defiant grin.
“I remember this day,” she said aloud, her voice steady despite the storm around her. “The day I learned what it means to fail. To truly lose. My mind betrayed my strength. I betrayed my clan. Fear took over.”
The beast didn’t move, its blank, grotesque face unreadable as it loomed over her. The two of them stood there, locked in a silent stare-down, the snow falling softly around them.
The snowstorm roared louder as the fight began. The Zarjhitt stood tall, its grotesque, distorted face blank and emotionless, yet its sheer presence radiated malice. Its claws flexed, long and razor-sharp, as its whip-like tails lashed the air behind it, carving streaks through the falling snow. Mertha, lantern discarded in the snow, cracked her knuckles with a grin that split her face, her green eyes blazing with a feral hunger.
"Let’s dance, you ugly bastard," she muttered to herself, her breath visible in the icy air.
‘But in this vision, whatever this place is, whatever the pool of light is doing, I can do something. I’m gonna do what I should’ve done. Even if this is some dream thing, it’s playing back my memories, and everything is vivid. Even here, I won’t falter.’
The Zarjhitt moved first. Despite its massive size, it was blindingly fast. It lunged forward, claws aimed for her throat, its tails whipping around to flank her. Mertha ducked low, the claws slicing just above her head, and twisted her body to avoid the tails. The air pressure alone from the tail’s swing sent a shockwave that rippled through the snow.
Mertha retaliated with an upward punch to its abdomen. The impact was explosive: the snow beneath her feet blasted outward, sending shards of ice flying. The Zarjhitt’s massive frame staggered backward, but it recovered quickly, its reinforced tail snapping toward her like a spear.
She barely had time to react. The tail’s edge grazed her side, ripping through her leather armor and opening a deep gash on her ribs. Blood poured from the wound, staining the snow crimson, but Mertha didn’t flinch. Instead, she grinned wider, wiping a trickle of blood from her mouth.
"Pain," she whispered to herself, "it reminds me I’m alive."
The Zarjhitt roared, its sound a guttural mix of animalistic rage and something unnatural. It leaped into the air, its claws raised high, and brought them down with brutal force. Mertha rolled to the side, the impact of its claws splitting the ground where she had stood. Snow and dirt erupted in a geyser as the beast’s claws dug deep.
She sprang to her feet, charging straight at it. Her fists were a blur as she unleashed a flurry of devastating punches to its midsection. Each blow detonated like a cannon, sending shockwaves through the beast’s torso. The Zarjhitt staggered, but it lashed out with its tails, one catching her across the back and sending her sprawling into the snow.
She skidded several feet, her blood streaking the white ground. The clan gasped, cries of fear erupting behind her.
“Is she... dead?” one shadow murmured.
“She can’t beat it! It’s too strong!”
The Zarjhitt turned its head toward the clan, its glowing yellow eyes narrowing. It began stalking toward them, its tails swaying menacingly as it prepared to slaughter them.
Mertha’s eyes snapped open. Her bloodied face lifted from the snow, and a grin stretched across her lips. “Not today,” she growled, sitting up abruptly.
Before the Zarjhitt could take another step, Mertha was on her feet and moving faster than anyone could track. She barreled into the beast with the force of a wrecking ball, tackling it away from the clan. Her fists came down in rapid succession, each strike aimed for vital points: its throat, its ribs, the base of its skull.
The Zarjhitt howled in pain, but it wasn’t done yet. Its fur rippled unnaturally as the hair along its arms and back hardened into sharp, spike-like protrusions. With a sweep of its arm, it slashed at her, the jagged hairs slicing deep into her forearm as she raised it to block.
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Blood sprayed onto the snow, but Mertha didn’t falter. She grabbed the beast’s arm with her injured limb, tightening her grip until its reinforced fur began to crack under her strength.
“You think I’m scared of a few scratches?” she snarled, delivering a headbutt straight to its face.
The impact shattered its nose and sent it reeling, but one of its tails lashed out, spearing her through the thigh. She gasped, her leg buckling beneath her, but she used the momentum to grab the tail and yank the Zarjhitt forward.
With the beast off-balance, she slammed her knee into its chest, hearing the satisfying crunch of ribs breaking beneath her strength. The Zarjhitt stumbled back, its claws clutching its chest, but before Mertha could press her advantage, it retaliated.
The beast’s claws shot out, one raking across her stomach and the other slashing across her shoulder. The force sent her flying backward, her body crashing into a nearby tree. The wood splintered under the impact, snow and bark falling around her.
The clan gasped again.
“She’s not getting up this time,” one of them whispered.
The Zarjhitt roared in triumph, its tails lashing the air as it stalked toward her crumpled form. Blood dripped from its broken nose and cracked ribs, but it was still relentless.
Mertha groaned, coughing up blood as she pushed herself to her feet. Her legs were shaky, her vision blurred, but her grin never wavered.
"Pain," she muttered, spitting blood onto the snow. "Pain makes me feel strong."
She darted forward again, moving with a speed and ferocity that defied her injuries. The Zarjhitt swung its claws, but she ducked under the first and sidestepped the second, closing the distance between them. She drove her fists into its midsection, her blows exploding with raw power.
The beast roared, raising its arm to strike, but Mertha grabbed its wrist, twisting it with a sickening snap. The Zarjhitt howled in agony, but she wasn’t done.
She leapt onto its back, wrapping her arms around its head. Its tails stabbed into her sides, piercing her flesh, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she laughed—a wild, unhinged sound that echoed through the storm.
"You think that’s enough to stop me?" she growled.
With a primal scream, she grabbed its jaw with both hands, her fingers digging into its flesh. Blood poured from her wounds as the Zarjhitt thrashed, trying to shake her off, but she held on.
"Not this time," she whispered to herself. "I’m not letting them die this time."
With one final surge of strength, she *ripped* its jaw apart. The sound of snapping bone and tearing flesh filled the air as the beast’s blank face twisted into a grotesque, gory mess. Blood sprayed across her body as she yanked its head back, tearing it in half.
The Zarjhitt collapsed to the ground in a heap, its body twitching before going still. Mertha stood over it, her chest heaving, her body drenched in its blood. She let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her face with a trembling hand.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw them. More Zarjhitt. They hung in the trees, their glowing eyes watching her in silence.
Mertha’s grin faltered for a moment as she stared at them. Then she let out a long, slow breath, her voice quiet but resolute.
"Pain is my solitude," she murmured. "It’s my freedom. It reminds me I’m still standing on solid ground."
She clenched her fists, her bloodied fingers trembling. "I’ve failed before. I’ve failed so many times. But I’ll keep bearing the pain. For them. For my clan. For the Tyrants. For Xyenn."
Her lips curled into a soft, bittersweet smile. "He reminds me of my son. Reckless, stubborn. But he’s growing. He just needs a push. And if it takes pain to help him, then I’ll give him every ounce of it. Pain makes us strong."
She turned her gaze back to the Zarjhitt in the trees, her grin returning.
"Come on, then," she muttered. "Let’s see if you can kill me."
The Zarjhitts began to move, their grotesque forms leaping from the trees with terrifying speed. Their glowing yellow eyes pierced through the storm, their tails whipping behind them like jagged, living weapons. The snow swallowed their massive frames as they charged, the ground rumbling beneath their weight.
Mertha stood her ground, blood dripping from her wounds, steam rising from her body as her breath fogged the cold air. Her grin widened, her expression wild, feral, and full of defiance. The storm roared around her, but her voice was steady as she spoke to herself.
“I’ve always been like this,” she muttered, flexing her bloodied fingers. Her muscles ached, her body screamed in pain, but she welcomed it. “I’ve always taken everything with my strength. Never my mind.”
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a brief moment as the beasts drew closer. "It’s why I failed them. My clan. My family. My husband. My son." Her voice cracked, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
The first Zarjhitt lunged at her, its claws swiping for her head. Mertha’s eyes snapped open, her body moving instinctively. She ducked low, the claws slicing through the air above her, and countered with an uppercut that detonated like an explosion. The impact sent the beast flying backward, its chest caving inward with a sickening crunch.
But another beast was already on her. It slashed at her side, its claws ripping deep into her flesh. Blood sprayed across the snow, but Mertha didn’t falter. She grabbed the beast’s arm, twisted it with a brutal snap, and drove her knee into its face, shattering its grotesque features.
“I swore I’d protect them,” she growled, slamming the beast into the ground with enough force to crack the frozen earth. “But I didn’t know what it meant to protect. I thought strength was enough.”
Another Zarjhitt lunged at her from behind, its reinforced tails whipping toward her like spears. She spun around, catching one tail in her hand while the other pierced through her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, her blood soaking the snow as she yanked the beast closer and delivered a devastating headbutt.
Her clan gasped from the distance, their voices trembling with fear.
“She’s taking too many hits!” one shadow cried.
“She can’t keep this up!”
“Why doesn’t she retreat? She’s going to die!”
Mertha didn’t acknowledge them. She was too lost in the rhythm of the fight, too consumed by the pain that coursed through her body. And yet, she still smiled, even as blood dripped from her lips.
"Pain," she whispered to herself, "pain is my solitude. Pain is my freedom."
Another Zarjhitt came at her, its claws slashing in a flurry too fast for most to follow. Mertha dodged left, then right, her movements sharp but slower now. A claw raked across her thigh, another across her ribs. She stumbled, blood pouring from her wounds, and the beast lunged for her throat.
But she caught its jaw in her hands, her bloodied fingers digging into its grotesque face.
“I hated myself,” she murmured, her voice trembling with emotion as she stared into the beast’s glowing eyes. “I hated myself after they died. My husband. My son. My clan. I failed them all, and I hated myself for it.”
With a primal scream, she ripped the Zarjhitt’s jaw apart, blood spraying across her face as its lifeless body crumpled to the ground. She turned, panting, to face the others.
“But they never turned their backs on me,” she continued, her voice raw, her grin defiant. “Even when I failed them, they stayed. Because that’s what we were. A clan. A family.”
The next Zarjhitt came barreling toward her. This one was larger, faster. Its claws slashed at her chest, carving deep gashes into her flesh. She staggered, her vision blurring as blood poured from her wounds. The beast’s tail lashed out, striking her in the stomach and sending her flying backward.
She hit the ground hard, the snow cushioning her fall, but her body felt like it was breaking apart. The clan screamed in horror.
“She’s not getting back up!”
“She’s dead! She has to be dead!”
The Zarjhitt turned toward the clan, its glowing eyes narrowing as it began stalking toward them. Its tails whipped through the air, ready to strike.
But Mertha’s fingers twitched. Her bloodied hand pressed against the snow, and she pushed herself up. Her body was broken, her muscles screaming in agony, but her grin returned, wild and full of fire.
"I love this," she muttered, her voice low and filled with a strange, dark joy. She stood on shaky legs, her blood painting the snow beneath her. "I love pain. Pain reminds me I’m still here. It reminds me I’m strong."
The Zarjhitt turned toward her, its blank face unreadable. Mertha laughed, her voice echoing through the storm.
“You want more? Come get it!”
She charged forward, her movements fueled by pure adrenaline. The beast met her head-on, its claws slicing at her arms and chest. But she didn’t stop. She drove her fists into its body, each blow detonating like a bomb. The ground shook with the force of their clash, snow and ice exploding around them.
The beast’s tails pierced her side, her back, her leg. Blood poured from her wounds, but she didn’t falter. She grabbed its tails, twisted them together, and dragged the beast closer. Her fists rained down on its face, breaking its skull with every brutal strike.
"I’ve failed so many times," she thought, her vision blurring as she continued to fight. "But pain keeps me grounded. Pain reminds me of solid ground. Of reality. Of what I have to protect."
She finally drove her fist through the beast’s chest, ripping out whatever passed for its heart. The Zarjhitt collapsed, lifeless, at her feet.
But there were still more in the trees. Dozens of glowing eyes stared down at her, unblinking.
Mertha staggered, her body barely holding together. Half of her was gone, her blood soaking the snow, her breathing ragged. She turned slowly, her green eyes meeting the silhouettes of her clan. But they weren’t her clan anymore.
They were the Tyrants. Shadows of them. Yuuna. Xyenn. Gorran. Quinara, Sethrak, Zyphira, Draeven, Illyana, and Kivorn.
Her lips curled into a soft, bittersweet smile. “I feel safe and sound on solid ground,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Safe and sound. Solid ground. That was what pain meant to her. Pain was solitude. Pain was freedom. Pain reminded her she was alive, that she was still standing, even when everything else fell apart. Pain was what she bore for others, so they wouldn’t have to.
"I’ll always be a leader," she said, her voice growing stronger. "Because my kingdom is right here in front of me. My family. My Tyrants. The people who are oppressed by those stupid ass dragon gods.”
Her vision blurred as she dropped to her knees, the blood pooling around her. But she kept smiling, even as the Zarjhitts began to move again.
The snowstorm began to ease. The wind softened to a whisper, and the flurries of white turned into a gentle cascade, falling like ash from a distant memory. Around Mertha, the light began to shift. It glowed in soft tendrils, warm and golden, wrapping around her battered body like a comforting embrace. The snow beneath her bloodied knees shimmered faintly as the light flowed into her, seeping into her wounds, her bones, her very soul.
‘This light…making me feel all mushy inside. Gross. But I can’t reject it. I didn’t think jumping in that pool of light would make something like this happen.’
Her breathing slowed, each exhale visible in the freezing air. The world grew quiet—peaceful. But the silence wasn’t empty. It was the kind of stillness that welcomed reflection, that demanded it. She felt the warmth of the light blooming in her chest, and her broken body trembled as she lowered her head, her eyes staring at the blood-stained snow beneath her.
“I still have so far to go,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of the light.
Her fingers curled into fists, her knuckles raw and bloodied. She could feel the pain coursing through her, but she welcomed it. Pain had always been her companion, her constant reminder of who she was and what she had lost. But now, within this moment of light and stillness, she allowed herself to look deeper.
Her lips twitched into a faint smile, one that carried the weight of years of reflection and regret. “I’ve been running on strength alone for so long. Punching my way through every problem. Taking every hit because I thought pain made me strong.” She paused, her voice trembling. “And maybe it does. Maybe it’s the only thing that’s kept me on my feet. But... strength isn’t enough. Not for what’s ahead. Tch, I was kinda crazy.”
Her mind drifted back to the faces she had lost—her clan, her family. Her husband’s laugh, her son’s reckless grin. The warmth of their fires, the sound of their voices carrying through the cold nights. All of it was gone now, wiped away by him.
“King Haldrek,” she muttered, her teeth gritting as the name left her lips. The light around her flickered, as if responding to the surge of anger that boiled in her chest. “You took everything from me. My clan. My family. You burned it all to the ground.”
Her fists slammed into the snow, the impact sending a spray of crimson-stained powder into the air. The light dimmed for a moment, but then it pulsed again, brighter, softer, enveloping her once more. It wasn’t just healing her body—it was steadying her, tempering the fire that raged within.
Mertha tilted her head back, her bloodied face turned toward the faintly glowing sky. The snowflakes that landed on her cheeks melted instantly, their cold kiss almost comforting. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting, failing, getting back up, and fighting again. But what have I built? What have I truly done except survive?”
Her grin returned, sharp and defiant, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I thought surviving was enough. That if I could keep moving, keep punching, I’d find some way to make it all mean something. But I see it now. Surviving isn’t enough. I want more. I want to take more.”
The light pulsed again, stronger this time, and she felt it filling her, mending her broken body, stitching together the pieces of her fractured soul. It wasn’t just healing—it was a reminder. A reminder of what she had sworn to herself after losing everything.
“I’ll get my kingdom,” she said firmly, her voice steady now. “I’ll carve it out with my bare hands if I have to. And when I do, I’ll make sure it’s a place where no one has to feel what I felt. No one will lose their family the way I lost mine.”
Her mind drifted to the Tyrants, their faces flashing in her thoughts. Yuuna’s chaotic grin, Xyenn’s reluctant determination, Quinara’s teasing smirk, Gorran’s quiet strength. They weren’t her clan. They weren’t her blood. But they were hers. Even the people who were oppressed by the gods, she saw them as her own.
“They’re my family now,” she murmured, her voice soft. “My kingdom is standing right in front of me. And I’ll protect them with everything I’ve got. Even if it means bearing all their pain, even if it means breaking my body over and over again.”
Her thoughts lingered on Xyenn. His recklessness, his stubbornness—it reminded her so much of her son. The way he fought with everything he had, even when he didn’t know what he was fighting for. The way he hid behind his pride, too afraid to show his pain but still desperate for someone to see it.
“He doesn’t know it yet,” she said to herself, her smile softening, “but he’s got what it takes to lead. He just needs more pain to shape him into the man he wants to be. More lessons to break him down and build him back up. Pain will make him stronger. It always does. And it has for him. And I’ve taken note of it. He’s not the same as he was when I first met him. And I say all that to say I want someone to say that about me. Her voice grew quieter, almost wistful. “And maybe... maybe if I help him grow, I can forgive myself for failing my son.”
The light around her began to shift, growing brighter, more radiant. It wasn’t just healing her now—it was lifting her, holding her steady as she rose to her feet. Her body was still battered, her wounds still fresh, but she stood tall, unbroken.
The Zarjhitts in the trees began to stir, their glowing eyes narrowing as they prepared to attack again. But Mertha didn’t flinch. She looked at them, her grin returning, sharp and full of fire.
“Come on, then,” she muttered, cracking her knuckles. “I’m not done yet.”
The light pulsed again, and she felt it flowing through her veins, merging with her blood, her bones, her very essence. It wasn’t just healing her—it was reminding her of who she was.
“Solid ground,” she whispered, her voice almost reverent. “I feel safe and sound on solid ground.”
Pain was her solid ground. It was her anchor, her constant. It reminded her of what she’d lost, but it also reminded her of what she still had. It was her solitude, her freedom, her reminder that she was still standing.
The Zarjhitts leapt from the trees, their claws glinting, their tails whipping through the air like blades. Mertha braced herself, her fists tightening, her grin widening.
“I’ll always be a leader,” she said, her voice full of conviction. “Because my kingdom is right in front of me. And I’ll protect it until my last breath.”
As the beasts descended upon her, the light around her flared, illuminating the battlefield in a radiant glow. And Mertha, bloodied but unbroken, charged forward to meet them head-on.
…
The battlefield was silent now, except for the soft whisper of the snow falling around her. The once-roaring storm had quieted, leaving the air heavy with the scent of blood and the lingering warmth of the light that had surrounded her. Mertha stood amidst the mangled, lifeless bodies of the Zarjhitts, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Her own blood mixed with theirs, staining the snow crimson.
Her body was battered, broken in ways that would have killed anyone else. One arm hung limp at her side, her ribs felt shattered, and gaping wounds ran across her legs and stomach. But she was alive. Standing. Smiling. The grin on her face wasn’t one of triumph or glory—it was something quieter, more reflective.
Her boots crunched softly in the snow as she staggered forward, her gaze sweeping over the carnage around her. The beasts lay in heaps, their grotesque forms torn apart by her hands. Claws and tails lay severed, their glowing yellow eyes now dim and lifeless.
The light that had swarmed her earlier still lingered faintly, flickering like embers around her frame. It wasn’t the same fierce illumination that had healed her and held her steady during the battle—it was softer now, almost reverent, as if the light itself was pausing to listen.
Mertha’s voice broke the silence, low and raspy, carrying the weight of years of regret. “I’ve stood in places like this before,” she murmured, her eyes distant as she stared at the carnage. “Surrounded by death. Covered in blood. And every time, it’s been the same.”
Her hand trembled as she reached out to the nearest corpse, her fingers brushing against the jagged fur of the Zarjhitt. Her bloodied reflection stared back at her in the beast’s frozen, blank eyes.
“I survived,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But they didn’t. My clan… my family.”
Her thoughts drifted back to that day so many years ago. The screams of her people, the roar of the flames as Haldrek’s forces descended upon them like a storm. Her husband, her son, her clan—fighting valiantly, dying bravely. And her, standing in the midst of it all, strong enough to break monsters with her bare hands but helpless to stop the slaughter.
“I thought strength was enough,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought if I was strong enough, I could protect them. I could protect everyone.” She chuckled bitterly, shaking her head. “But strength wasn’t enough. It never was.”
Her mind lingered on her failures, on the faces she couldn’t save. Her husband’s determined eyes, the way he had smiled at her even in their hardest moments. Her son’s reckless grin, so much like her own, full of fire and ambition. She could still hear his voice, teasing her, challenging her, making her laugh.
“They’re gone because of me,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “Because I wasn’t enough. I didn’t think. I didn’t lead. I just fought. So what if I was young? It still haunted me. It affected me, and the way I fought.”
Her knees buckled, and she sank into the snow, her blood pooling around her. For a moment, she let herself feel the weight of it all—the failure, the loss, the hatred she had carried for herself. Her head tilted back, and she stared at the pale gray sky, her breath visible in the cold air.
“I’ve hated myself for so long,” she muttered. “For failing them. For failing him.”
The light around her flickered again, brighter this time, wrapping around her shoulders like a comforting embrace. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep into her battered body.
“But they never turned their backs on me,” she continued, her voice steadier now. “Even when I failed them, my clan stayed. They followed me, even after I led them into pain, into death. Because that’s what we were. A clan. A family. That’s what makes it so fucking hard, that’s what made it hit hard..the failure.”
Her lips curled into a faint smile, bittersweet and full of longing. “They believed in me, even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I couldn’t forgive myself.”
She chuckled softly, shaking her head as the realization sank in. “It’s funny, really. I spent so many years swearing I’d take Vördrheim from Haldrek. I told myself I’d tear him apart, take his kingdom, and make it mine. I thought that was my purpose. That was what I was fighting for.”
Her grin widened, a spark of warmth lighting her bloodied face. “But now… now I see it. I already have my kingdom. It’s not lands or castles or thrones. It’s them. The Tyrants, the people I protect
Her voice grew quieter, laced with a deep, unshakable conviction. “They’re my kingdom. And I’ll protect them, no matter what it takes.”
She rose slowly to her feet, her body trembling but unyielding. The light around her flared brighter, surging into her wounds and sealing them shut. She could feel its strength flowing into her, but it wasn’t just healing her—it was grounding her, steadying her resolve.
“I still have so far to go,” she said firmly, her green eyes blazing with determination. “I’m not done yet. I’ll grow stronger. I’ll grow smarter. I’ll be the leader I was supposed to be.”
Her gaze shifted to the horizon, her lips curling into a wry grin. “And one day, Haldrek… I’ll come for you. For Vördrheim. For everything you took from me. You’ll see what it’s like to lose everything. I’ll bear their pain,” she said softly, her voice full of quiet conviction. “I’ll take it all, so they don’t have to. Because that’s what a leader does, right? That’s what it means to stand on solid ground.”
Mertha stood tall amidst the carnage, bloodied but unbroken, the light around her glowing brighter as the snow continued to fall.
Her voice, steady and sure, her grin wild, her voice cut through the silence. “I will atone for my failures. And punch deadly holes in each dragon god that wants to fuck with me.”