The ambush hit them like a storm—sudden, brutal, and chaotic.
Selene’s senses sharpened as arrows whistled through the air, striking guards at the front of the caravan. She cursed under her breath as the bandits descended from the rocky terrain and grassy hills surrounding the Sand Pass. The once quiet, serene scene was instantly transformed into a battleground.
"Stay sharp," Edwin muttered beside her, raising his shield and spear, eyes scanning the approaching wave of enemies. Despite the intensity of the moment, his calm, almost methodical demeanor remained. His spear angled outward, ready to thrust. His body moved with the precision of a veteran who’d seen his fair share of fights but didn’t let fear or panic get the better of him.
Selene nodded, focusing her energy. Her Void Fist hummed with latent power, ready to unleash devastating blows. Her eyes flicked to the approaching attackers—scruffy, desperate men armed with swords, axes, and bows. Bandits, likely, but they moved with a calculated confidence. This wasn’t their first ambush.
"Here they come!" Edwin shouted as the first group closed in, their boots kicking up sand as they charged.
The first bandit swung a crude axe at Edwin, but the man was quicker than Selene had expected. Edwin’s shield shot up in a flash, deflecting the blow with a practiced ease. He immediately countered with a thrust of his spear, sinking it into the bandit’s side with brutal efficiency. The man gasped, his eyes widening in shock before collapsing to the ground.
Selene didn’t have time to admire the precision. Another bandit came charging at her, his sword raised high. She shifted her stance, and with a quick dash, she activated Shadow Step, her body melding into the shadows. She reappeared behind the man, her Void Fist glowing as she delivered a devastating blow to his back.
Void Sunder activated instantly, the punch sending shockwaves of void energy through his body, causing him to cry out in pain as his armor cracked under the force. He crumbled to the ground, his body destabilized by the void energy rippling through him.
Edwin was a whirlwind of motion next to her. His spear darted out like a snake, stabbing at the legs and torsos of the attackers, while his shield was a fortress, deflecting incoming blows with impeccable timing. Selene realized quickly that Edwin wasn’t just another guard; he was a well-oiled machine of defense and counterattacks, his movements measured and precise.
"Behind you!" Selene called out, spotting another bandit lunging toward Edwin’s exposed back.
Without turning, Edwin spun his shield around, catching the attacker’s sword mid-swing. He shoved the bandit backward with enough force to send him stumbling into Selene’s range. She didn’t hesitate, her Phantom Strike activating as she delivered a series of swift blows with her Void-infused arm. Each punch created void echoes, phantom fists that struck again after a brief delay, battering the bandit into submission before he could even raise his weapon again.
"Good teamwork!" Edwin grunted, nodding his approval as he blocked yet another attack with his shield, following up with a well-aimed spear thrust.
Selene smirked, adrenaline coursing through her. She was starting to see how they complemented each other—Edwin, the defensive juggernaut, unyielding and steady, while she darted in and out of the fray, hitting hard with devastating speed.
But the bandits kept coming.
More poured from the hillside, their numbers seemingly endless. Selene could feel the weight of the fight starting to press down on them. No matter how many they cut down, more took their place. Her Void Fist pulsed with energy, and she unleashed another Void Sunder, punching through the chest of a particularly aggressive bandit who had nearly gotten past Edwin’s defenses. The shockwave tore through his body, sending a ripple of void energy out, disorienting the enemies around him.
Edwin, despite his calm demeanor, was starting to show signs of fatigue. His shield arm wavered for just a second, but it was enough for one of the bandits to slip through his guard.
Selene saw the bandit coming, his sword raised, his eyes locked on Edwin’s exposed side. Time seemed to slow. She tried to dash forward, to block the blow, but she was too far. The sword came down in a deadly arc toward Edwin’s unprotected back.
And then, out of nowhere, an axe flew through the air, spinning end over end before embedding itself in the bandit’s skull. The man collapsed instantly, his sword falling harmlessly to the ground. Edwin, startled, glanced over his shoulder as the bandit dropped.
Standing on a nearby ridge, framed by the fading sunlight, was a blonde-haired man with a wooden peg leg, an easy grin on his face as he strode toward them.
"Looks like you could use a hand," the man said, his voice light despite the deadly accuracy with which he’d thrown his axe.
Selene blinked in surprise, not expecting to see someone else join the fray. "Who the hell are you?" she asked, dodging an incoming attack as she spoke, her Void Fist slamming into another bandit’s chest with a satisfying crack.
The man with the peg leg shrugged casually, retrieving another axe from his belt as he joined the fight. "Leif," he said, throwing the axe with expert precision and taking down another attacker. "And I think I just saved your friend there, so you’re welcome."
Edwin, still catching his breath, gave a wry chuckle. "I’ll take all the help I can get."
Leif’s movements were quick, his peg leg not hindering him in the slightest. He moved with the grace of a seasoned adventurer, his axes flying through the air with deadly precision, cutting down bandit after bandit. He fought with an almost reckless abandon, but his skill was undeniable.
With the three of them working together, the tide of the battle began to shift. Selene unleashed her Eclipse Dash, dashing through several enemies and marking them with shadow energy. She circled back, her body a blur of motion, and as she passed through them again, the delayed void energy detonated, sending a shockwave through the bandits, scattering them like ragdolls.
Edwin, now back in rhythm, used his shield like a battering ram, knocking enemies off balance before skewering them with his spear. His movements were still controlled, but there was an urgency to them now, a sense that they couldn’t hold out much longer.
Leif, meanwhile, fought like a man possessed, his axes flying through the air, hitting their marks with frightening accuracy. Every time Selene or Edwin seemed on the verge of being overwhelmed, another axe would come spinning into view, dispatching the threat with brutal efficiency.
The clash of steel, the roar of chaos, and the stench of blood hung thick in the air as Selene and Leif fought desperately to hold the line. The ambush had been brutal, but they had somehow managed to stay alive—barely. Edwin, still standing, though wounded, was fighting with the determination of a man with everything to lose. His family waited for him in Windmere, and he wasn’t going to die here, in this godforsaken pass. Not after everything.
But Selene could see it. She could see the way his legs trembled, how his shield arm faltered, the way his spear seemed to weigh him down more and more with each passing moment. He was close to collapsing, and they were running out of time.
Selene’s void-infused arm pulsed with energy, her muscles screaming in protest as she swung again, punching through the chest of an enemy with Void Fist. The power surged through her Mithralite prosthetic, amplifying her strike, the bandit’s body crumpling under the force as the shockwave of void energy exploded inside him. Armor shattered, bones cracked, and he fell, lifeless, to the sand at her feet.
But there were more. Too many more.
Leif was at her side, his face twisted in pain but focused. He moved with surprising speed for someone with a pegleg, darting between enemies, his axes whirling in the air, a blur of steel and rage. His axe embedded in a bandit’s throat, and with a vicious yank, Leif pulled it free, the man dropping at his feet, blood spurting across the sand.
"You holding up?" Leif grunted through clenched teeth, his body heaving with exertion as he slammed his pegleg down to regain balance.
Selene didn’t answer, her breath ragged, her body aching. She spun, narrowly dodging an incoming strike from another bandit. Her Shadow Step activated just in time, her body disappearing into the shadows and reappearing behind the attacker. With a swift punch, her Void Fist connected, the energy rippling through the bandit’s body, tearing him apart from the inside. The man fell to the ground, writhing in agony before succumbing to the void’s power.
"Edwin!" Selene shouted, glancing over to where Edwin was barely holding on. His shield was battered, his spear chipped from overuse, and his leg—a vicious gash ran down his thigh, blood pouring freely.
Leif saw it too. Edwin was on the verge of collapse, his body shaking from the pain, and the next bandit was already upon him. Without a second thought, Leif threw his axe, the weapon spinning through the air before embedding itself in the bandit’s skull. The man fell with a sickening thud, his sword clattering uselessly to the ground inches from Edwin.
"You good?" Leif called, moving toward Edwin as fast as his pegleg would allow.
"I’ve been better," Edwin grunted, his voice tight with pain, but he gave Leif a grateful nod. "But still standing."
Selene stepped in, her eyes narrowing as more enemies surged toward them. "We need to get out of here. We can’t hold them off forever."
Edwin’s response was cut short by the sudden appearance of a bandit wielding a jagged scimitar. The man swung at Edwin’s legs, aiming to cripple him. Edwin blocked the first blow with his shield, but his injured leg gave way, and he stumbled. The bandit lunged forward, swinging with deadly precision. Selene saw it happening in slow motion, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Move!" she shouted, pushing Edwin aside with a burst of strength, but the blade still connected, slicing through the muscle and tendons in his leg. Edwin cried out, collapsing to the ground as blood poured from the wound.
Selene’s breath caught in her throat. "No…"
Before she could react, the bandit swung at her, forcing her to dodge. Her body felt heavy, her movements sluggish from the relentless pace of the battle. She activated Abyssal Grapple, her Mithralite arm shooting forward, grappling the bandit and pulling him toward her. The void tether wrapped around him, reducing his defenses as she delivered a devastating punch to his face, shattering his skull. The man crumpled to the ground, but the damage was done. Edwin lay motionless, his leg bleeding profusely.
"Edwin!" Leif’s voice broke through the chaos, and Selene turned just in time to see him sprinting toward them, his remaining axe in hand. But before he could reach them, a bandit came up from his blind spot, swinging a mace at Leif’s pegleg.
The wooden prosthetic splintered under the force of the blow, and Leif let out a guttural cry as he toppled to the ground. His body slammed against the sand, and for a moment, Selene thought he might not get back up. His leg—his good leg—was bent at an unnatural angle, and blood trickled from the jagged stump where his prosthetic had been connected.
Selene’s heart pounded in her chest, and her vision blurred with exhaustion and fury. She swung her arm in a wide arc, activating Void Echoes as she struck the nearest enemy. Phantom fists followed her strike, hitting the man again and again with relentless force. But even as she fought, she knew it wasn’t enough. The numbers were too great, and they were losing.
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Another bandit charged at her, and she barely had the strength to block his attack. Her Mithralite arm clanged against his sword, the vibrations reverberating through her bones. She staggered back, her knees threatening to buckle under the strain.
Leif crawled toward Edwin, blood trailing in the sand behind him. His face was pale, his breath labored, but he was determined. He reached Edwin’s side, his fingers gripping the man’s shield and dragging it over their bodies as best as he could.
"Selene," Leif rasped, his voice strained. "We’re not gonna make it."
Selene’s chest tightened, her gaze flicking to the horizon. There was no sign of reinforcements. No sign of help. It was just them. She gritted her teeth, pushing down the fear that threatened to consume her.
"Shut up, Leif," she growled, her voice trembling with barely controlled emotion. "We’ll make it. We have to."
But even as she said it, she knew they wouldn’t. The bandits closed in around them, their weapons raised, their eyes gleaming with victory.
One bandit swung his axe at Leif, but before it could land, Selene used the last of her strength to dash forward, grabbing the man with Abyssal Grapple and pulling him away from Leif. The bandit snarled, swinging wildly at her, but Selene ducked, slamming her Void Fist into his chest. The shockwave of energy sent him flying backward, but Selene staggered, her vision swimming as her strength left her.
"Selene!" Leif called out weakly as he tried to stand, but his injured leg gave way, and he collapsed beside Edwin, his face contorted in pain.
Selene stumbled back toward them, her body moving on instinct alone. She couldn’t feel the pain anymore, couldn’t feel the exhaustion. All she could see was the blood, the bodies, the endless wave of enemies.
As she reached Leif and Edwin, her knees buckled, and she collapsed beside them. The world around her blurred, the sounds of battle fading into the distance. Her head spun, her vision darkening, but the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Edwin. Despite his injury, despite the blood pouring from his leg, Edwin stood over them, his shield raised, his spear clutched tightly in his hands. He was breathing hard, his face twisted in pain, but he was still standing.
Still fighting.
Selene’s heart ached as she drifted into unconsciousness, the image of Edwin’s defiant stance burned into her mind. She had fought to protect him. Leif had fought to protect him. And now, despite everything, he was fighting for them.
Her vision faded completely, and the world went black.
***
Paola stood on the edge of the cliffs, the wind swirling around her like a wild dance, tugging at the loose strands of her dark hair and whipping her cloak out behind her. The fading light of the sun, now dipping below the horizon, bathed the desert in a soft, golden glow, casting long shadows across the rugged landscape of the Sand Pass. Her gold-flecked brown eyes gazed down at the battlefield below, where the aftermath of their victory was slowly being tidied up.
The Arcane Forge scouts were already on the ground, moving with efficient purpose, assessing the carnage. Yasmin's team was handling the clean-up with practiced ease, their movements sure, even casual. The fight was over, but the energy of the day still buzzed in the air, clinging to everything like static before a storm.
Paola felt that tension in her bones, the way the wind seemed to whisper through the cliffs, echoing the chaos they had just survived. She flexed her toes, digging them into the cool stone beneath her, feeling the rough texture against the skin of her feet. The sensation was grounding, but even that didn’t chase away the strange sense of hollowness that gnawed at her from within.
Her body was still, but her mind wasn’t.
She had won. They had reclaimed the relic. A hefty reward was on its way, and she had done exactly what she had come here to do. But victory didn’t feel like she thought it would. It didn’t feel like triumph, not really. There had been madness in the fight, a madness she had stood in the center of, but as the wind whipped against her bare skin beneath her cloak, she realized something unsettling.
She hadn’t even needed to bring out her cosmic bunny slippers.
The thought made her lips twitch slightly, a half-formed smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Those slippers—her Diamond Tier gear—remained tucked away, hidden for now, something no one else knew about, not even her closest companions. Her being Void Borne was one thing. That was a secret she could afford to keep. But the slippers, those ridiculous, deceptively powerful slippers, were on a need-to-know basis. And so far, no one needed to know.
But now, as the wind tugged at the edges of her cloak, sending it flapping against her bare thighs, Paola couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t used them. Was it restraint? Or was it something else?
Her eyes narrowed, watching the scene unfold below her. The clean-up continued, but Paola’s thoughts were elsewhere, floating in that space between certainty and doubt. The voices in her head whispered in the quiet, each one tugging her in a different direction. Some of them, the louder ones, told her this was necessary—that everything she had done was right, that this was how things were supposed to be. They said she was a warrior, a protector, and that sometimes, violence was the only answer.
Other voices, though, were quieter. Quieter, but harder to ignore.
They whispered of something deeper, something more complex. Was this what she really wanted? Had all of this—the bloodshed, the destruction, the constant fight for survival—been the right path? There was a calmness in one of the voices, like the eye of the storm, offering her solace, telling her that it wasn’t all about chaos and madness. And yet… another part of her, a part she couldn’t always hear clearly, told her that maybe chaos was exactly what she needed.
She lifted her chin slightly, letting the wind play with her hair, the strands slipping across her face, brushing against her lips. Her cloak flapped violently in the breeze, teasing at the edges, revealing glimpses of her bare skin underneath. The cool air kissed her body, sending shivers racing up her spine, but she didn’t move. She let the elements swirl around her, wrap her in their embrace.
The night was creeping in, the light fading, and the stars were starting to emerge, pinpricks of silver against the deepening blue of the sky. Paola’s fingers flexed by her sides, her body still tense from the battle, and though the fight had ended, it didn’t feel like it had. Not for her.
Below, Yasmin and Ayla were already debriefing with the guild officials, their voices carried faintly by the wind. Yasmin’s energy, still crackling from the fight, was unmistakable. Even from this distance, Paola could sense her friend’s signature bravado, that manic joy she seemed to find in the heat of battle. It was infectious, and Paola had to admit, she admired Yasmin’s ability to not only survive but thrive in the chaos.
Paola, though, couldn’t quite relate to that.
She stared out at the desert, her eyes tracing the path of the setting sun as it dipped lower and lower behind the dunes. The relic had been recovered. The mission was a success. But somehow, it all felt… hollow.
Maybe it was because she had seen the relief in the hostages’ eyes. Maybe it was because Poca had stayed behind, refusing to leave Selene’s side until she was sure the demon woman would survive.
Poca’s words echoed in Paola’s mind: "She will make it back. I will make sure of it."
Paola had nodded, given her report, said everything that needed to be said. The bandits were either dead or arrested, and Yasmin, as promised, had done the heavy lifting. The fight had been brutal, but they had won. Yasmin’s explosive power had been as devastating as always, and Ayla’s unrelenting strength had carried them through. Even Poca, with her quiet, methodical healing, had done her part.
But Paola? She had been there, yes. She had fought. She had killed. But she hadn’t felt… present. Not in the same way she usually did.
Her toes curled against the edge of the cliff, the wind picking up again, pushing against her with a force that made her feel like it could sweep her away if she let it. She considered that for a moment—the idea of letting the wind take her, carry her far from here, far from the chaos and the questions, far from everything.
But she didn’t move. She stood there, still as stone, her cloak fluttering wildly behind her. The wind tugged at it, revealing more of her bare skin, her body marked with the faint remnants of battle—bruises, cuts, and scratches that Poca hadn’t quite gotten to yet. The pain was dull, distant, and Paola welcomed it. It made her feel alive in a way the victory hadn’t.
She had killed today. That much was certain. And yet, as she stared out at the vast, empty desert, there was a strange sense of peace inside her.
For once… she thought to herself, there isn’t an empty, hollow feeling.
She had done what needed to be done. She had saved lives. She had reclaimed the relic. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she hadn’t been left with that crushing emptiness that usually followed a fight. It was still there, yes, that nagging sense of something missing. But it wasn’t as strong as before.
Maybe that was what victory felt like. Or maybe, she thought with a bitter smile, it was simply the absence of failure.
The wind howled, and Paola tilted her head back slightly, closing her eyes as it rushed over her, carrying with it the scent of the desert, the faint smell of blood and sweat still lingering in the air. She let it wash over her, let it fill her lungs, as she stood on the precipice, teetering on the edge of something she couldn’t quite name.
She thought of Selene, broken and beaten, lying in the sand next to the man she barely knew, but had fought to protect. Paola had seen it all—had watched as Selene and Leif had tried, and failed, to fend off the ambush that had nearly killed them. She had seen Edwin’s desperate attempt to protect them in return, standing over their bodies with his shield raised, even as his strength failed him.
And now, as she stood on the cliffside, alone, Paola couldn’t help but wonder if any of it really mattered.
The voices in her head whispered again, some louder than others. This is what you were made for, one said. This is your purpose, another added. Chaos is the answer, the third whispered, its tone darker, more insistent.
But there was another voice, one she could barely hear, one that was quieter than all the rest. It spoke to her like a distant echo, barely audible over the wind. It was calm, like the eye of the storm, and it told her that maybe, just maybe, she could be more than this. More than the killing, more than the endless cycle of violence.
She opened her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the battlefield one last time. Yasmin and Ayla were still talking, their voices blending into the background noise of the desert. Poca was tending to Selene, her expression tight with focus, her hands glowing softly as she worked to heal the demon woman’s wounds.
And Paola? Paola was just… here. Standing on the edge of something she couldn’t quite define.
She took a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs as the last of the sunlight disappeared behind the horizon. The stars began to emerge, twinkling above her in the darkening sky. The wind continued to whip at her cloak, and Paola let it fall open, the fabric flaring out behind her like wings.
Her body was exposed to the elements now, the cool air brushing against her skin, sending shivers through her as it caressed the marks left by the day’s battle. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the wind, or the cold, or the ache in her muscles.
All she cared about, in that moment, was the strange, hollow sense of peace that had settled inside her. The kind of peace that came not from victory, but from the absence of failure.
Paola stepped away from the cliff’s edge, the wind still tugging at her cloak as if trying to pull her back. But she moved forward, her feet silent against the sand, feeling the cool grains shift beneath her toes. The chaos of the battlefield was behind her now, fading into the background as she made her way toward the sound of water flowing nearby. The wind, though fierce up on the cliffs, carried the soothing hum of a river, promising a quiet escape from the madness that still echoed in her mind.
Her cloak flared open behind her, fluttering in the breeze, but she made no effort to close it. The cool air wrapped around her body, the remnants of the battle clinging to her skin—a mixture of dirt, sweat, and blood that had dried into a thin, uncomfortable layer. She was filthy, but that was the least of her concerns. The wind wasn’t enough to strip away the feeling of the day’s weight on her shoulders, and she knew that only the river could wash it clean.
As she neared the riverbank, the sound of the water grew louder, the soft rush of the current offering her a moment of peace. The trees along the river were sparse, their leaves rustling gently, casting shadows on the glistening surface of the water. The golden hue of the sunset reflected off the river, giving it an almost ethereal glow, as if the world itself was slowing down for her.
Paola stopped at the edge, her toes hanging over the bank, brushing against the grass that lined the water. Her cloak pooled around her feet, forgotten as it slipped from her shoulders. The cool night air kissed her skin, but the wind had become softer here, the rush of the river providing a gentle contrast to the violence she had left behind. She felt the breeze lift her hair, the loose strands fluttering as she stood there, staring at her reflection in the water.
She looked down at herself, taking in the sight of her body, dirty and worn from the battle. Her fingers fidgeted with the belt that clung to her waist. She was filthy, but more than that, she felt disconnected from the person staring back at her. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, her small, perky breasts visible beneath the dirt and grime that covered her skin. Her stomach was flat, taut from the weeks, maybe even months, of battle, but she felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity as she looked at herself.
Her black, feline ears twitched in response to the sound of the river, drawing her attention upward for a moment. She noticed, for the first time in what felt like ages, the small white tufts of fur inside her ears—something she had barely noticed before. They seemed so natural now, so much a part of her that it was hard to remember a time when they hadn’t been there.
Her gaze drifted lower, the hair between her legs, fully grown out now—a jungle she never would have let grow back on Earth. The sight of it was jarring, a stark reminder of how much she had changed, how far she was from the person she used to be. The river’s reflection captured her silhouette, her body framed against the soft glow of the setting sun, but it didn’t feel like her anymore. Not completely.
Paola turned her body slightly, her eyes catching on her tail—the long, black, fluffy appendage that swished slowly behind her, brushing against the backs of her thighs. She reached out, touching the soft fur with the tips of her fingers. It was real. It had been real for a long time now. The tail grew from her, from the base of her spine, as if it had always been there, as if this was who she was meant to be. It moved with her, swayed with her every thought, every emotion.
She blinked, staring down at her reflection in the water, watching as the woman in the river blinked back at her. Her gold-flecked eyes, sharp and catlike, stared back with an intensity she didn’t quite recognize. The water rippled, distorting her reflection, but the eyes remained—haunting, questioning.
“Paola Juderías,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle rush of the river. “Who even are you now?”
The woman staring back at her from the water didn’t have an answer.