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There was no need to overthink things, nor dwell on complications. Everything was already on fire anyway.
"Open fire!!!"
Within hours, on that rain-swept field, war tanks white as porcelain fired their guns, obliterating everything. Fighter jets strafed with machine guns and missiles.
To anyone watching from outside, it would have looked like that woman was walking straight into her death. A logical thought. But…
There is no logic behind absolute power.
Years of evolution couldn't even tear her clothes, much less wound her skin. Her mana was so dense that touching her was impossible — the only chance would be a moment of distraction, and that would not come soon — and even if it did, it wouldn't matter. She regenerates.
Still, seeing thousands of soldiers and tanks spread before her like an inescapable horizon, Niyx's gaze was emptier than even she expected.
She clenched her fist until the veins on her arm stood out. Then a single thought passed through her head.
'Time to fight.'
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To be clear, that creature did not feel empathy; her nature was simple: be born, fight, adapt. That was all — what she had done and what she always would do.
Thirty years ago, on a certain day, that monster had seen a small black-haired boy singing and acting in the middle of a city of ash, forgotten by the world. There were others like him.
But this boy in particular was cursed; the image the monster saw was of a young boy being stoned while performing.
A deplorable image, one that made her strangely curious. Approaching the boy as he picked himself up and forced a smile, she found herself interested in humanity — at least a little.
"So…"
The monster, who possessed a rare kind of beauty, looked into the boy's eyes and asked a question.
"I understand what you were trying to do. But doesn't that just prove that stupidity has no cure?"
They were abandoned in a place forgotten by God and the world. The chance of rescue or shelter was the same as being blasted by a nuclear bomb.
"That's a good question…"
The boy rose and looked at her, small against her larger form.
"I wanted to make them happy."
"By humiliating yourself?"
"I'm not humiliating myself… it's acting. I like theater."
The creature tilted her head slightly. Curiosity flickered in her eyes.
"Acting? What is that?"
The boy felt awkward at the question; it was hard to explain, but he tried in his own way.
"It's like you become another person, like playing a character from a story, but bringing them into reality using your body."
"Hm?"
"I wanted to bring a bit of hope to them, using my stories…"
"So it's a lie?"
He lowered his eyes, a strange feeling in his chest, and answered.
"Yes…"
It was a place of hopelessness, where only children tried to survive. War orphans who never found a home — they all lived in that abandoned place.
"Could you do that acting for me?"
He blinked in surprise.
"Y-you sure?"
"I'm sure."
She climbed onto a pile of rubble and rested her chin on her hands, watching the boy closely.
A performance about a great hero. One who fights for justice and the good of others, who is strong enough to defeat evil and gentle enough to comfort lost people.
Such a thing was new to her, but watching that boy portray multiple characters at once, she realized how difficult it was.
She had already lived ten years as a metamorph; she adapted quickly to life and could see how unrealistic that notion was, especially in the world where she was born.
Humans — no, any thinking lifeform — do not want an all-powerful being to guide or save them; they want power for themselves. Heroes do not exist in such a world; they would be seen as ignorant. Bit by bit, people would envy and destroy them, because they do not know, nor believe, that someone like themselves could possess unwavering goodness. Gradually, that hero would die alone, knowing he had changed nothing by using his power for others.
For that reason, she chose to fight for herself; it had been that way since birth — her nature. But in that moment, she asked the human a single question, someone who, despite having no hope, still tried to give to others.
"What is your name?"
"It's Xanthir. And yours?"
"I don't have one."
"Your parents didn't give you one?"
"I don't know who they are. I'm a metamorph."
The boy's eyes widened when he realized one of the most powerful monster races stood before him; he was startled, but swallowed his fear.
"Y-you are my first audience… so, as thanks, would you like a name?"
She stared at him, blinking a few times, expression unchanged.
"If I like it."
He thought, then the perfect name came to him.
"Niyx. What do you think?"
"Niyx…" she repeated, trying the sound. "I like it. Then I will be Niyx from now on."
She visited him often after that; sometimes clean, sometimes covered in blood, which frightened the other children, but he didn't mind.
Soon the little group grew: it began with Niyx and Xanthir, then Erebos and Lorian joined. They formed a quartet of actors. They would be the heroes Xanthir dreamed of. Roles were distributed among the Pillars of Salvation.
Lorian would be the group's leader, the serious, strategic hero who always plotted plans and oversaw missions.
Xanthir would be the charismatic one, uniting the group and saving people in dramatic fashion.
Erebos would be the handsome hero type, serious and dedicated, hating delays and slowness.
And Niyx — she was to be the super-strong heroine, not too proud, with a gentle side for children; everyone would love her for being strong and beautiful.
But thirty years of acting backfired. In the end, they realized they were nothing special; perhaps heroes simply didn't exist after all.
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Smoke and destruction covered the horizon: bodies strewn on the ground, destroyed tanks, craters — everything fallen.
The girl yawned as if shaking sleep from her bones and continued walking. The city on the horizon waited for her while the rain fell relentlessly and violently.
'I guess that was it… now it's just time to fight him, finally.'
As she finished the thought, a capsule larger than her slammed into the ground before her, opening a hole in the earth.
Unhurried, Niyx watched ir open and gas hissed out.
From within, a white monster emerged with an enormous human smile planted where its face should be, faintly stained red on its teeth.
It was large and muscular, the skin under its hands expanding like a blade.
It laughed in a distorted voice.
"Eliminate, monster."
"Hmp. Look who's talking."
In the blink of an eye it lunged. Blades sliced the air, but Niyx dodged effortlessly, her movements as light as the falling rain. When the blade brushed her skin, she simply stopped the attack with her hand — no scratch, no blood.
'So now they're sending bioweapons? Well, Eldoria isn't so holy after all…'
She spun her body and landed a devastating kick, followed by a double punch reinforced with mana. The impact made the monster spit blood and fly backward.
"I don't know what you are. A human, an elf? Or some corpse they experimented on. But I'm not interested in fighting you. If you want to live, get out of here now. While I'm feeling generous."
But the monster began to walk toward her again. Niyx narrowed her eyes as she noticed something interesting.
'It assimilated my mana? I see, so that's how it is, is it?'
She brought her hands together, forming the sign of an inverted temple. A predatory smile spread across her face.
"I won't go easy on you. See?"
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