Pierce shoved aside the faceless guards and stepped forward, standing in front of the convoy with the weight of his nerves threatening to crush him. But on the surface, he maintained a calm, affable demeanor, offering a warm smile that could have fooled anyone less discerning.
"I wonder what the Goddess of Judgment needs from me?" he asked smoothly, his voice laced with the gentle tone of a kind elder.
To the average person, it would have seemed sincere—polite, even humble. But Bella was no ordinary person. Her intuition went beyond just instinct; it was a refined sense of emotional perception, bordering on precognition. If she truly focused, she could even catch glimpses of the future. It wasn't just combat sense—it was the ability to dissect emotions, no matter how well masked.
Pierce, unfortunately for himself, had trained for deception. If acting were an Olympic sport, he would take the gold. Every microexpression, every muscle twitch, even the precise rhythm of his heartbeat—he had perfected it all. The performance he gave would have easily won him an Oscar.
At first glance, his expression showed mild surprise—presumably at seeing the Goddess of Judgment in person. The second layer of emotion was a subtle furrow of the brow, suggesting that her sudden appearance must be tied to some grave event, one that disturbed him slightly. It was a masterful mask, one that most would believe.
But not Bella.
If she hadn't known any better, she might have been duped by this silver-tongued, cold-blooded fox. But her eyes, deep and emerald, didn't miss a thing.
Without a word, she dismounted from her motorcycle. The air shimmered around her hand, and within seconds, a black sword emerged—sleek, dark, and humming with ominous energy. Holding it with ease, she began to approach Pierce, step by deliberate step.
The surrounding crowd—who had been filming the scene on their phones with morbid curiosity—began to fall silent. As soon as they saw the weapon in Bella's hand, a collective realization seemed to sweep over them. The noise died down, their voices fading into tense murmurs. Everyone sensed it now—something serious was about to happen.
Step.
Step.
Each of her footsteps echoed like the toll of a funeral bell in Pierce's ears. He couldn't take his eyes off her. As their gazes met, something unexplainable happened—he felt as though he had fallen into another world.
A hellish one.
A sea of blood stretched out before him, soaked with shattered weapons and half-buried corpses. Spears, swords, and axes jutted upward from the crimson sludge, marking graves without names. Broken arms reached skyward, torn bodies clawed from the muck, their eyeless sockets locked on him. They screamed without voices, crawled without legs, and surged toward him with the slow, inevitable momentum of a nightmare.
It was as if the world itself was telling him, This is your fate, Pierce. This is what awaits you.
Fear—true, bone-deep terror—gripped him.
"No!" he screamed hoarsely. "Get back! I won't die! My great work isn't done yet! I can't die here!"
The world spun. His throat burned. And then—
It was gone.
In a flash, the crimson illusion dissolved, replaced by reality once more. Pierce stood in front of his black armored vehicle, gasping for air, face drenched in cold sweat. Around him, the guards stared at him with puzzled expressions, clearly disturbed by his sudden outburst.
He realized, with mortification, that he had screamed those words aloud.
Recomposing himself with effort, Pierce adjusted his tie and steadied his breathing. His expression darkened as he fixed his eyes on the approaching Bella.
"You're insane!" he snapped, his voice harsh. "What are you planning? Do you intend to assault a high-ranking government official? Are you trying to provoke Country M? You have no idea what kind of storm you're calling down!"
But Bella didn't respond. Her face remained impassive, unreadable. She didn't even slow her pace.
With every step she took, the pressure in the air intensified. It was like a volcano waking from slumber, magma rising beneath the crust. The guards around Pierce, trained and mindless as machines, raised their pistols in unison, aiming them at the girl. There was no fear on their faces—only mechanical obedience.
Bella's eyes narrowed slightly.
"They've been brainwashed well," she muttered. Her voice carried despite its softness.
Step. Step.
She stopped no more than five meters from Pierce, black sword glinting in the sunlight. The faint ripple of power around her warped the air itself.
"Tell me," she said coolly, "who gave you the courage to raise a gun at me?"
A cold smile touched her lips as she spoke.
Pierce instinctively stepped back. He could feel it now—the suffocating weight of her presence. She wasn't just threatening. She was inevitable, like judgment itself made flesh.
"I am a servant of the people," he said, voice shaking. "You… you don't understand the implications of this attack."
Bella tilted her head slightly. "I understand more than you think."
Then she raised her sword.
The air split with a sharp, metallic shriek, and a pressure wave surged forward. Several guards were thrown back, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. Some tried to resist, but their bodies trembled violently under the sheer force. One by one, they collapsed, eyes wide with horror.
"You built your empire on lies, on blood, on fear," Bella continued, walking past the fallen without sparing them a glance. "But today, you answer for it."
Pierce tried to run.
But it was far too late.
In the blink of an eye, Bella was in front of him, her sword pointed at his chest. He froze, the tip of the weapon gleaming like death incarnate.
"You think hiding behind your title makes you untouchable," she said. "But to me, you're just another piece of rot in the foundation."
From behind them, one of the elite guards stirred—different from the others, bulkier and faster. He lunged, trying to take Bella by surprise.
She didn't even turn.
With a flick of her wrist, a black energy wave burst from her blade, slicing the air itself. The guard's body twisted unnaturally before collapsing in a heap, motionless.
"You brought this upon yourself, Pierce," Bella said softly. "You made deals with devils. You tried to use monsters like Kingpin as pawns. But all pawns get sacrificed eventually."
Pierce, trembling now, fell to his knees. His voice cracked, desperate.
"You don't understand the bigger picture. There are things—people—beyond either of us. You kill me, and everything collapses. The whole balance—"
Bella leaned down.
"Then let it collapse."
The sword rose.
And then—
Sirens blared in the distance.
Military vehicles surged forward from beyond the blockade. Drones buzzed through the air. A voice echoed through loudspeakers:
"Stand down! Drop your weapon and raise your hands! This is your only warning!"
Bella straightened, looking toward the reinforcements. Her expression remained unmoved.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then she turned to Pierce again, eyes burning with a strange, resolute calm.
"This isn't over. But your time is."
She raised her free hand and snapped her fingers.
A flash of light enveloped her body—and she vanished, leaving behind a swirling gust of air and a single, black feather.
The reinforcements arrived seconds later, surrounding the area. But there was no one left to apprehend. Only silence, and the shame-faced Pierce, who had just glimpsed the abyss.
And realized it had looked back.
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