Rebecca POV:
I've always distrusted men. No, it's more accurate to say I've learned that men cannot be trusted. The real reason I chose the archer class had nothing to do with my physical ability. It was because I couldn't trust anyone to watch my back, not even for a moment. Being summoned to the tutorial felt like both a curse and a blessing. But at least I had my sister. She's always been my protector, my anchor, and I love her for it.
She inherited all the good qualities from our late mother, who was a true angel among people. Our mother shielded us from the monster we shared our DNA with. That man wasn't human. I doubt anyone else could empathise with our struggles. He was a monster in human flesh. Maybe that's why it was easy for me to kill monsters in the tutorial. Killing them was like purging the world of his memory, one arrow at a time.
The memory seared into my mind like a brand, the air thick with the stench of alcohol and sweat… and blood. England lost the 2018 semi-finals, but we lost something far more precious that night, our mother's spirit. We were just 13, but that night… that night, I learned what true fear was. The kind that wraps around your heart and squeezes until you can't breathe. We watched in silence as the empty bottles piled up.
The tension in the air was suffocating, pressing down on us like a heavy, dark cloud. He ordered our mother into a room, and the door closed like a prison gate. Her screams pierced the air, each one a dagger that tore into my soul. We huddled together, the walls closing in around us, her agony stretching on for hours, ripping her apart piece by piece… and with her, our innocence. I felt something inside me break that night; a fragile hope, shattered beyond repair. From that day, something changed in the way Mother looked at us. She no longer feigned happiness. She became a husk of her former self, yet she still protected us as much as she could. Until she couldn't. The day we found her… her body wasn't just lifeless, it was broken, drained, a hollow shell that once housed the woman who had given everything to protect us. The smell of death clung to the air, a cruel reminder of the life she had endured, and the monster who had destroyed her. When the man who called himself our father saw what had happened, he blamed us.
We became the new targets of our father's insanity. Anna, my courageous sister, came up with a plan to escape. She led us to freedom when we were sixteen, but the scars never left us. We met a man who offered us refuge, and we lived with him for three years, until the tutorial began. Those were happy years for me, a brief respite from the storm.
But I didn't realise then that Anna was slowly beginning to resemble our mother. I was too naive, too eager to believe in a happy ending, to see the signs. But when we teleported to the white room, she was crying. The truth spilled out, and with it, a flood of regret that threatened to drown me. I regretted not seeing it sooner. I used one of my questions to uncover the truth, which only made my heart break further. That's why I chose the bow, I vowed never to let anyone else hurt my sister.
Now, I have to live with the consequences of my actions. As soon as the men left, I asked about Jacob's true intentions. His honesty was a knife to my heart, twisting deeper with every word. Fear overtook me, and before I could react, one of his men incapacitated me from behind. Now I find myself in a tent, tied up, with my sister unconscious beside me. I hate men. I hate their lies, their betrayal, their cruelty. Hudson and Shawn probably are worse. How else are they so strong? Even if they come back. I will never let them close.
As I desperately tried to form an escape plan, my mind raced, fragments of trauma crashing into my thoughts, threatening to overwhelm me. The tent flap opened, and my body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. A familiar figure entered, but instead of relief, I felt a surge of anger. I couldn't afford to trust him, I couldn't afford to trust anyone.
"Rebecca, Anna, I'm here to get you out. Hudson has a mad plan. He's starting a massacre, and I don't think we'll be able to stop him. Let's get out of here before anything begins," Shawn explained, his voice laced with urgency. His words were like venom, each one fueling the fire in my chest. I wanted to believe him, to see a saviour in his worried eyes, but all I could feel was the boiling rage, the helplessness of years past surging to the surface. Men lie. They always lie. I wasn't going to be their victim again. I needed proof. I needed to ignite the flames of war myself.
"Give me your knife," I snarled, the words sharp, almost feral. The cold edge of desperation sliced through my resolve, but I couldn't show weakness. I needed control. I needed to feel that cold steel in my hands, a promise that this time, it would be me who decides. "'I'll knock you out and escape." The words were a lifeline, a way to reclaim the power that had been stolen from me. "I can't hear any screams so there is no war happening. Give me the knife. Prove you're on my side." My gaze bore into him, daring him to defy me, to show his true colours. He looked at me with concern but eventually obliged. He didn't argue, didn't hesitate, a wise choice. After cutting both Anna's and my ropes and grabbing my gear, I stayed true to my word. It seemed Shawn had his own plans, he moved like a man possessed, hurling himself into the tent's supports. The entire structure groaned under the force, and with a deafening crash, the tent collapsed around us, the world falling into chaos. I didn't pause to think. I grabbed Anna and ran, the instinct to survive pounding in my veins like a war drum.
I didn't wait for him to recover. I half-dragged, half-carried my sister, her body heavy and limp as she slowly stirred, her groggy eyes trying to focus. I didn't have time for gentleness. "Anna, get up! We're not dying here!" The urgency in my voice was fueled by the thought of losing her, of failing her again. As we climbed onto the rock, I felt the weight of years of pain and fear clawing at my insides. It exploded out of me in a scream that tore at my throat, the sound of a soul pushed to its breaking point. 'YOU OFFERED US SAFETY!' The words ripped through the night, filled with a fury that had been building for far too long. 'YOU GAVE US YOUR WORD! NOW WE WILL HAVE OUR REVENGE!' The rage was a living thing now, untamable, and it surged forward, driving me to knock an arrow and unleash it into the crowd below. Each shot was a release, each scream from the crowd a twisted satisfaction. The fury in my voice was a living thing, raw and uncontainable, ready to consume everything in its path. I looked down at the mob, their faces filled with both horror and rage. Their fear only fueled my anger, stoking the flames higher. I knocked an arrow into my bow and fired into the crowd. I didn't care for accuracy, my wrath didn't need to be precise. With a crowd this size, my arrow was bound to find a target. And then it happened:
Beep!
A goddess is incredibly impressed with your resolve.
The notification was a distant hum in the back of my mind, overshadowed by the bloodlust surging through my veins. As I continued firing, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a familiar figure with blood dripping from his fingertips. He was a spectre of death, cloaked in makeshift armour, a short sword glimmering in the moonlight. He looked in my direction, his deep black eyes sending a shiver of fear down my spine. But then he smiled, a dark, knowing smile that spoke of shared vengeance, of an unspoken bond in our desire for retribution. In his eyes, I saw the same fire that burned in my own vengeance, pure and unyielding. It wasn't just support he was offering; it was a shared promise, a pact forged in blood and fury. I would accept it, and together, we would burn this place to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes in our wake.