CHAPTER 20: FIGHT THROUGH THE BOTTOM OF YOUR HEART
***
"Do remember one thing; you will always fight, not just for the sake of your fate, but against your fate itself as well. Survive this time, Trizha Frantzes."
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"...Fine."
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The world, and every fragile soul clinging to its surface, now rested in the trembling hands of two children.
They fought to protect the remnants of a peaceful life of a fate against a monster who had dared to interrupt a blossoming romance with cold sweat and a heartless, hollow soul.
The Prom Tower—once a symbol of luxury and youthful dreams—was now a zone of absolute destruction.
Anyone who dared to approach its crumbling base would meet despair.
Anyone trapped inside would meet a death as painful as it was inevitable.
However, two specific individuals, battered and only minutes into their recovery, were sprinting back into the heart of the furnace.
"What are you doing?! Look at it! The entire tower is coming down!"
Wyne's voice was high with panic, her lungs burning as she struggled to keep pace.
She reached out, her fingers brushing the air where the other woman's coat had been a second before.
"It's suicide! We have to stay back! The military and the rescue teams are already moving in—let them handle it!" Wyne added.
However, Yuri Calypso, our renowned Former Mafia Queen, didn't stop.
She didn't even slow down.
Every time a new crack spider-webbed across the tower's marble facade, she let out a guttural curse of pure, unadulterated rage.
Her establishment—her billion-dollar legacy—was being ground into dust by forces she couldn't yet see, and she felt every fracture in her own bones.
Walls were pancaking.
Glass was raining down in a shimmering, lethal curtain.
The foundations groaned under the weight of the immense shockwaves that had rippled through the structure only moments ago.
Yuri snarled, slamming her shoulder into a slab of fallen masonry that blocked her path.
When it didn't move, she punched it with her bare fist, the impact echoing like a gunshot.
"Damned bastards! Who do they think they are?!"
Yuri's voice was a jagged rasp of fury.
"Who the heck is destroying my hotel?! The Prom Tower is worth billions—no, trillions! Do they have any idea how much work I put into this freaking place?!"
Wyne stumbled over a piece of jagged rebar, her voice cracking as she regained her footing.
"H-hey! Are you even listening to me? I said it's too dangerous! We have to get out of here right now!"
Yuri suddenly whipped her head around, her eyes bloodshot and wild as she glared over her shoulder.
She didn't stop running, her legs pumping with a frantic, desperate energy.
"I heard you the first time, slowpoke! The tower is breaking down—I have eyes! But do you know who I am?!"
She didn't wait for an answer, her teeth bared in a snarl.
"I am Yuri Calypso! I am the founder of this freaking establishment! This isn't just a building; it's my responsibility! I have students like you in there—children who paid me for a one-week vacation!"
Except they didn't. They were forced to be here.
"They came here to dance and eat cake, not to be buried alive! Why do you think I'm running toward the fire, you idiot? To save them!"
"But you're injured! You haven't recovered from the last fight–"
Wyne's protest was cut off as Yuri waved a dismissive, blood-stained hand.
"Shush! If you're so obsessed with your own safety, then run the other way! Go join the cowards at the perimeter!"
Yuri's eyes flashed with a sudden, sharp intensity.
Wyne shook her head, her own resolve hardening despite the terror. "I can't! My friend is still in there! I have to go and find her!"
"Exactly what I just said!"
Yuri turned back toward the entrance, her pace accelerating.
"You want to save one person, I want to save hundreds! Don't you dare try to compare your fear to my duty! Now move your legs or get out of my way!"
The conversation ended as abruptly as the tower's stability.
Yuri skidded to a halt for a split second, reaching for the silver briefcase she had clutched throughout the chaos.
With a practiced click, she pressed a hidden indentation on the handle.
The case didn't just open; it disassembled.
Mechanized plates hissed and whirred, unfolding like a metallic origami.
The pieces surged upward, latching onto Yuri's forearms and locking into place with a series of heavy, hydraulic thuds.
Within seconds, her slender arms were encased in massive, high-tech RPG cannons.
Wyne stood paralyzed, the heat of the fire reflecting in her wide eyes.
She reached out, her hand trembling. "Wait—"
She was too late.
Yuri didn't look back.
She pivoted, pointing the muzzles of her cannons away from the building.
BOOM.
The recoil was a physical shockwave that flattened the dust in a twenty-foot radius.
The propulsion launched Yuri off the ground like a guided missile, a streak of chrome and fury dashing toward the crumbling entrance.
"The heck…"
Wyne stood alone for a heartbeat, the vacuum of Yuri's departure pulling at her clothes.
But the fear of being left behind was eclipsed by the memory of the friend she had spent so long hating—the friend who had saved her once before.
She gritted her teeth and plunged into the smoke, following the trail of Yuri's exhaust.
***
Inside the Prom Tower, the world had been replaced by a deafening roar.
Wyne barely made it through the entrance before a fresh shockwave slammed into her, nearly lifting her off her feet.
This wasn't just the sound of falling stone; it was the sound of power being unleashed.
The main security gate—a monstrous slab of diamond-treated steel designed to withstand a siege—had been torn from its hinges.
The metal was warped and glowing orange at the edges, melted through as if by a concentrated sun.
As she pushed deeper into the lobby, the horror truly began to take shape.
The screams of the many were a constant, jagged underline to the thuds of falling masonry.
Desperation was the only currency left.
She saw soldiers in tactical gear trying to funnel crying students toward the exits, while others lay pinned under marble pillars, their voices fading into silence.
Meanwhile, Yuri Calypso was a whirlwind above them.
She used her arm cannons to propel herself through the air, intercepting falling debris before it could crush the survivors below.
Every time she fired, a massive chunk of the ceiling vanished into dust, but Wyne could see the silent tears carving tracks through the soot on Yuri's face.
She was saving hundreds, but she couldn't save them all.
Below the chaos, General Koby was a blur of motion.
He moved at blistering speeds, his silhouette a flickering shadow as he snatched students from the path of falling glass.
Yuri provided the cover; he provided the rescue.
But even their combined might was a drop of water against a forest fire.
To Wyne, the tragedy was a grim reminder of the wall between imagination and reality.
In the world of heroes, everyone is saved; in reality, unavoidable deaths occur just for the sake of the spectacle.
Wyne stopped.
She found herself standing in the center of the grand ballroom, her legs refusing to move another inch.
She was stunned—frozen by a cocktail of grief, terror, and the sheer scale of the demise unfolding around her.
She watched as a support beam finally snapped, the sound like a thunderclap.
The ceiling began to tilt.
A massive section of the ornate chandelier and the surrounding stone groaned, detaching from the heights.
Wyne looked up, her breath catching in her throat.
The rubble was falling directly toward her, a mountain of stone descending to seal her fate.