The world around her crackled with raw, golden-white Abyssal Energy, the sheer force of it distorting the air in waves. The Skinwalkers had no idea what they had just awakened.
Her heart pounded, but it wasn't from fear.
It was from rage.
When the Skinwalker leader had licked his lips and bragged about the "other" women waiting back in their village, something inside her had snapped.
It wasn't just anger.
It was a memory.
—A cold alley. A hungry girl. The sound of boots slamming against stone.
She had run. Barefoot, starving, terrified.
The bandits had chased her down like she was some prey to be caught and broken.
"C'mon now, girlie! No need to run! Ain't nowhere to hide, anyway!!"
Their voices had been filled with amusement, as if she were just a toy.
She had run faster.
Faster.
Faster than she ever thought possible.
The world blurred, her feet barely touching the ground. Wind howled. Vision stretched. And then—
Darkness.
Not just the darkness of the night.
Something else. Something deeper.
She had crossed over. Into the Abyss.
She still didn't understand how it happened. Maybe she had run too fast, broken through the limits of the world itself. Or maybe something—someone—had pulled her in.
Either way, she had survived.
She had learned to fight.
Not just for herself, but for others.
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For the ones who couldn't run. For the ones who were trapped.
For the ones who had no one to fight for them.
And now, now these dumbasses thought they could just say those words in front of her?
That they could treat people like things?
No.
Not again.
A violent surge of golden-white energy erupted around her, cracking the ground beneath her feet.
The Skinwalkers froze.
The leader, who had been so confident seconds ago, suddenly looked pale. His grin faltered.
Speedy locked eyes with him, her heterochromatic gaze burning with an unforgiving light.
"You think you're hunters?" she whispered, her voice eerily calm. "You think you're predators?"
The air thickened, pressing down like the weight of a coming storm.
Speedy took a step forward—and the entire battlefield shook.
"You have no idea what it's like to be hunted."
Her body flickered. Blurring. Distorting. Moving too fast for the eye to follow.
"Let me show you."
And then—
She vanished.
The words had barely left Speedy's lips before the battlefield exploded with motion.
A single shockwave ripped through the air as she vanished from sight. Golden-white streaks blurred across the battlefield, moving at speeds that defied logic, defied existence itself.
The group of 15 Skinwalkers never even had the chance to scream.
The first died instantly—his throat severed before his body even registered the pain.
The second had a mere half-second to turn his head before his entire ribcage collapsed inward, shattered by a single, precise flicker of Speedy's palm.
The third? His body twitched as if trying to move—only for Speedy to appear behind him, her fist piercing through his chest and ripping out his heart in one seamless motion.
The fourth was running before he even understood what was happening—his instincts screaming at him to flee—
But Speedy was already there, a golden blur that shattered both of his legs with a single devastating kick before snapping his neck with a flick of her wrist.
The fifth, sixth, and seventh tried to raise their weapons—desperation flooding their eyes.
They only saw a brief flash of light before their bodies were torn apart mid-motion, severed cleanly at the waist.
The eighth Skinwalker whimpered, stepping back, hands trembling—
Only to jerk violently as Speedy drove her fist through his sternum, lifting him off the ground before launching him into the sky with such force that he vanished beyond the clouds.
The ninth to twelfth never saw her coming.
She danced through them like a storm of golden destruction, her fists and feet blurring between strikes. Bones shattered. Blood painted the ground. Bodies fell.
The thirteenth tried to beg.
Speedy didn't hear him.
His skull caved in from the force of a single, well-placed palm strike.
The fourteenth tried to run.
He got two steps before Speedy reappeared in front of him, a single spinning kick sending him flying with a sickening crunch.
And the fifteenth?
The last of them?
He collapsed to his knees, his body shaking, staring at the slaughter of his comrades with horrified disbelief.
Speedy stopped in front of him.
He opened his mouth—perhaps to beg, perhaps to scream—
But Speedy simply placed a single finger against his forehead.
A pulse of golden-white Abyssal Energy.
His body seized violently.
Then he dropped—dead.
And the Leader?
He hadn't even processed what had happened.
One moment, he had been surrounded by his men—his "brothers", the ones who had laughed and cheered at their sick desires.
The next?
They were gone.
His eyes were wide, his breath shaky, his instincts screaming at him to run.
But before he could so much as blink—
A hand pressed against his forehead.
A gentle, almost lazy touch—yet it paralyzed him completely.
His body convulsed as a pulse of foreign energy surged into his mind.
His entire consciousness unraveled in an instant.
Every secret. Every memory. Every single atrocity his people had committed.
The women. The cages. The ones who had already been broken beyond repair.
The ones who were still waiting for rescue.
Her fingers tightened against his skull, power pulsing.
For a second, he thought she was going to crush his head outright.
But she didn't.
Instead—
She vanished again.
A burst of golden light, and suddenly—
She was gone.
And so was he.
The entire exchange had happened in less than a second.
To most, it was as if the Skinwalker leader had simply disappeared—one moment there, the next vanished along with Speedy.
Only four people truly saw what had happened.
Key.
Nythra.
Dheerash.
Eunoia.
And now…
Speedy was already on her way to the Skinwalker village.
Because now?
They weren't just going to be hunted.
They were going to be erased.