The ground was slick with fresh blood, splattered in wild, erratic patterns. Somewhere, a child screamed—then fell silent. I tightened my grip on my sister's wrist and ran, dodging bodies and debris, lungs burning, dome walls looming above.
I must escape... I have to keep running until help finds us. But how could everything change so fast? Just yesterday, my biggest worry was whether I would embarrass myself at the Astrille Festival.
The festival was meant to honor the Goddess of Fate—supposedly, she blesses all with good fortune. For me, luck felt distant. The truth: I didn't want to parade as a princess. I wanted to become a warrior, to test my strength. But my mother, Sanghai's monarch, never understood. She saw me as a bargaining chip, ready to be engaged to Riot's prince, not someone who'd ever wield a sword.
Her voice echoed in my memory, fierce and cold: "A true daughter of Sanghai does not shed blood, she gathers power in other ways." Power—always meant for someone else. Society had a metallic crown for women: beautiful, but heavy enough to shackle movement, ideas, dreams.
I thought I could resist her, fight the tradition. A sharp pain in my shoulder wrenched me back to the present—a chunk of metal from the kids' battles glanced off my arm. "Stay close," my sister said, face pale but determined. She pulled me toward the shattered entryway. The Dome Battles—the big draw of the festival—had become chaos. Where destiny was on the verge of uniting as a qualified team, it has now transformed into a survival game.
I glanced around at the crowd. The monarchs, the generals, even the festival contestants—all watched, powerless. Some had been eager to become warriors, dreaming of joining the council, their skills tested on the three levels of battle. Now, can just watch their offspring getting killed. It was the siren for an emergency. Once the dome is closed can only be opened after half of the time of allotted time for outsiders to intervene.
My own magic sparked weakly at my fingertips, reminding me of how small I still was. I had shown sparks to my father once—he hadn't said a word, just studied my face. Maybe he sensed then, as I do now, that swords and magic were not enough.
A shout—a familiar voice: "Over here!" My sister's friend waved, trying to gather survivors. I hesitated, torn between the urge to fight and the fear that comes while realizing that my body is weak to handle my own magic.
I ran, hoping help would find us. Hoping I'd have a chance to change the fate written for me.My legs buckled beneath me. I crashed to the ground, gasping for air. My voice shook.
"I can't… I can't run. I can't feel my legs anymore."
Kiara leaned over me, eyes wide with panic. "We can't stay here—he's already killed half the kids in the dome! If we don't move, we'll be next!"
A servant's cold voice cut through the chaos. "Leave her, Princess Kiara. She's nothing but a burden—"
Before he could finish, hot blood sprayed past my cheek. I blinked, dazed, watching crimson droplets splatter onto my dress and smear across my hands. Every breath burned. My ears rang—until my sister's scream snapped me back.
Kiara stumbled backward, tears streaking her face. Her hands scrabbled for support, legs shaking. The ground seemed to swallow her as she fell with a thud. Over her shoulder, a nightmare approached—the monster, hands slick and red, eyes empty, grinning at our fear.
The servant rushed to drag Kiara up. The monster moved faster. A single, wet thump, and the servant collapsed beside her, lifeless.
Terror froze me. My limbs prickled and tingled—nothing worked. But I forced myself up, each step heavy as stone. "Kiara—hold on. I'm coming." I reached near her shielding her somehow.
The monster advanced. His feet left bloody halos with every step. My heart pounded so loudly I thought it might burst.
A whisper floated behind me, barely audible. "I'm…sorry, Sherliey."
I turned. Kiara met my eyes—wet cheeks, trembling lips, a twisted smile of guilt and fear. In a blur, she shoved me forward, hard.
Her footsteps echoed away as she ran. Even my own sister—the last person I trusted—abandoned me, feeding me to the monster like a meat shield.
My chest clenched knowing my. father is watching this and has power to stop this madness. I was clinging on, wishing that my father would save me; however, somewhere i knew the truth that he won't.
The monster loomed closer to me. No one else was left other than me and Kiara, and the time was almost up. The dome would open in ten minutes, but I didn't think I'd last ten seconds.
I gritted my teeth, raised my hands, and called on fire magic. Nothing but a flicker. I tried lightning twice. The air tingled, but my energy fizzled out.
I'd never felt so helpless—or so determined.
I scrambled behind the nearest rock, slipping on blood-soaked marble. Focusing hard, I hurled fire at the monster's feet, slowing him only for a moment. I'd prepared cluster-blast magic by the wall—if I could just lure him into range and trigger the trap, maybe I had a chance.
The monster shambled closer.
My pulse raced. I drew all my strength for one final attack—lightning, then a desperate push on the boulder perched above him. The rock hit him with a loud bang sound.
This was it.
Every muscle screamed as I forced the last high-powered fire blast from my aching hands. My heartbeat stuttered, wild and uneven. The magic burned inside me, clawing against the limits of my nine-year-old body. My veins felt like ice and fire; the pain made my vision swim.
But this time? I saw the monster stagger back—raw flames licking across its skin. I'd landed a real hit, but my strength was fading fast.
Across the dome, Kiara bolted toward the escape portal. Only those with permission could pass through, but the outside always remained visible from within. As her figure grew small in the haze, I pulled myself upright and limped in her wake. Each step was agony. My chest heaved. My heart was a drum, pounding out hope for escape.
Five golden minutes remained. It was enough—if I could just keep moving.
The portal shimmered. I was close, my legs barely responding, but what stopped me was the sight beyond: a tall woman, back straight, her face a mask of command. My sister clung to her, weeping. I didn't need to guess. It was my mother.
For one brief moment, joy overwhelmed me. Kiara's betrayal faded away—only family mattered now. I scanned the crowd. Some watched me, eyes cold, wondering how the 'cursed child' had survived when their own hadn't. Others, curious. None celebrated.
Servants surrounded Kiara, offering comfort and concern. I searched for someone—anyone—who cared about me. My throat tightened, tears threatening.
High above, atop the monarch assembly, a familiar form watched. My father. His face lost in distance, his posture unreadable. He hadn't come down. He hadn't helped. But my mother was here. She had to see me.
Intense gazes burned against my skin. Among them, the elite squads—the chosen survivors of the Astrille Festival Dome Battle—eyes locked on me. Was I about to become their final member? Could I earn my place through pain and luck?
I crossed the final stretch, exhausted, desperate. My mother turned at last, her expression unreadable—cool, impassive, almost uncaring. I willed her to acknowledge me. Surely, she was just in shock.
"Idiot," I whispered to myself, "Mother won't leave me. Not after this."
I stumbled, breath catching, eyes locked on her face. She never smiled. Her legs didn't move. My own slowed, refusing to carry me further.
"Mothe—"
My voice faltered as her words cut through the air, sharper than any spell.
"I don't see any more survivors here."
No. I blinked, tears blurring my vision. My lips parted in a silent scream. Why couldn't she see me? I was here—her daughter.
She stared straight through me, unflinching.
"I came for my daughter," she announced, "and she is safe. If anyone else is here, let them speak up."
My body trembled. I tried to reply, but no sound came. Tears streaked my cheeks as shock and heartbreak rooted me to the spot. Magic had drained me, but her words hurt more than any spell.
My mother's coldness shattered hope. In that moment, I feared her more than any monster in the dome.
In the blink of an eye, I realized nothing was truly mine.
I stood there, silent, eyes hollow. Pain? No—I was numb.
The portal was closing. Around me, hundreds of eyes watched—but none reached out.
Gods and goddesses, monarchs, rulers of continents—all indifferent.
Why? Because I challenged their beliefs? Resisted their will?
That cruelty was their punishment to a nine-year-old girl.
So many had hoped to see me die today—
And my own family was among them.
My tears dried. My eyes burned red.
I closed them and felt the weight of how small and worthless a life could be without power.
For a fleeting moment, I understood: my ambition was never wrong.
But my method—my desperate craving for love and recognition—was flawed.
I begged for both, imagining I could have power and love.
In truth, power demanded sacrifice. A soul wasn't given lightly.
I wouldn't sell mine—
But today, I lost it.
The portal shut.
I was trapped.
The crowd's pity washed over me like cold mist.
The gods disappeared from view. Monarchs turned away.
But my father—hidden among the higher-ups—stayed.
Some stayed to watch the family drama unfold; others, to see if my death stirred a flicker in his eyes.
A sudden presence loomed behind me.
Ah, my nemesis.
I turned, glaring one last time at my father.
What expression do you wear right now?
Are you sad? Happy? Relieved?
Finally, the obedient children bear no disgrace?
Then, a rough hand closed around my neck, yanking me back.
Pain exploded as I crashed to the cold, hard ground with a thud that echoed inside my skull.
My heart slowed, pulse fading to a faint throb.
Lying there, I stared up at the domed ceiling, its cold shadows pressing down on me like a weight.
Tears slid silently down my cheeks as silence wrapped around me, heavy and suffocating—full of lost hope and empty promises.
The monster loomed above, its deafening breaths shaking the air.
Fists rained down relentlessly—each blow throbbed through my bones, fracturing my body, shattering my will.
A dark thought whispered in my mind:
Maybe this was better.
Maybe fading away was the only escape left.
No one wanted me here.
No one cared if I lived or died.
I was alone. Forgotten.
I should disappear—like a shadow swallowed by the night.
Then—deep inside, beneath the pain and despair—came a small, trembling voice.
Don't die like this. Don't give up now.
Live for your dream.
That voice pierced the darkness, a flicker of flame in a dying hearth.
With whatever strength remained, I clenched my hands tight and shut my eyes.
A warm surge spread through my veins, a pulse of energy mending the cracks in my broken body.
I didn't understand where this magic came from.
I only knew it was healing me—slowly, painfully—but surely.
When the next blow came, I moved.
I dodged it by inches, breath jagged and uneven, heart pounding like thunder in my chest.
The squad at the edge of the battle froze, their footsteps halting mid-turn.
The crowd hushed, uncertainty rippling through whispers as they turned their eyes back to the fight.
No one expected me to rise again.
But there I was—hand raised, trembling but defiant.
Magical circles ignited with brilliant light around my palm.
A fiery cluster of scorching fireballs exploded into the air, bursting toward the monster with thunderous force.
The sky itself seemed to catch fire—reds and oranges swirling in a fierce, burning storm.
The monster staggered, stunned, raw flesh sizzling beneath the magical onslaught.
I met that terrible, cruel gaze.
Seething with all the fury and pain I'd swallowed, I fired again and again—fifteen blasts, relentless, merciless.
No ashes remained. Just silence.
Whispers stirred among the crowd—fear mixed with awe.
"She is terrifying."
"What was that last blast?"
Aurelion, the sun god, eyes wide with excitement, allowed himself a rare smile before fading away.
Enyo, goddess of lust, lingered, watching with a knowing grin before disappearing into the shadows.
The Northern Ruler observed silently, then turned away without a word.
I pulled myself up from the scorched earth—changed forever.
The girl who entered the dome was gone.
In her place stood the new Sherliey.
The crowd erupted—shouting, cheering, their excitement crackling through the air. The energy was electric, throbbing with triumph and shock. I had denied my destiny—and somehow, I'd won.
But as they celebrated, my mother stood like stone, her face unreadable. She'd revoked any trace of warmth, her blood colder than ever, the royal line publicly fractured. My father, true to form, remained silent, the figurehead who did nothing.
Somewhere behind me, a man muttered to his friend, "Gods are ruthless even to their own kin. When a child's not useful, they're cast out from blood and power."
The friend shook his head. "Who'd have thought the tables would turn like this? No one expected this end
Time was up—the dome shimmered, then split open. I staggered through, the last survivor. My white dress had become crimson, heavy with blood. Bruises painted my face; cuts stung across my skin, and several bones throbbed with pain. My body was whole—barely. It seemed only the wounds from awakening were healed.
I drifted, numb and distant, drowning beneath the roar of voices. Then—a drumbeat thundered, followed by a resounding bang that rattled the ground. I barely had the energy to glance up.
A massive shadow loomed over me. The land trembled under its weight. I kept my eyes low, staring at shattered stone—until the air shifted and something immense settled before me.
Gasps rose from the crowd.
"Is that… Lord Isadore?" a girl whispered nearby, making my ears twitch.
A hush fell over the arena. The sky above the dome darkened, shadows swirling as something ancient approached.
Lord Ishidore appeared—not as a mere beast, but as a living legend. His silhouette blocked the moon and stars, scales glinting with silver and deep indigo. Each was etched with runes that pulsed and shimmered, alive with power older than the kingdoms that watched.
Wings unfurled behind him, vast and mighty, casting the crowd into darkness. The wind whipped at his arrival, stinging my bruised skin with motes of stardust and sparks. I tasted thunder in the air, felt my hair raise with electricity.
He landed with a force that cracked the marble underfoot. His claws were precise, deliberate—every step made the world tremble. Lightning skittered across his limbs, tail adorned in bands that glittered like stars. His eyes, molten gold rimmed with cobalt, surveyed the survivors and nobles alike—judging, measuring, deciding.
For a moment, I forgot my pain. Everyone did.
Lord Ishidore did not simply walk; he strode, demanding the attention and respect of gods and rulers. When he reached the center, he unfurled his wings, shutting out the crowd and the dome's walls with one sweeping gesture. He reared back and loosed a roar that shook the pillars, announcing his presence to every soul, living or divine.
In that instant, all pride, all ambition seemed to shrink before him. Even my mother, even the gods seated above, faltered in his shadow.
He was no messenger—he was fate itself made flesh
A weary smile curled my lips. "A messenger of god? He's early for the arena." The thought vanished as darkness crept into the edges of my vision.
The dragon transformed—his laughter, deep and cold, sent a shiver down my spine. "I am always on time, child. Like today. You wield magic none have seen before, but you're still unsuitable as a warrior."
His voice was a blade of ice. I flinched and forced myself to meet his eyes—piercing, ancient, glowing with quiet power. Fear swept through me, but I stood my ground.
With a swirl of motion, he lifted off, circling upward in a spiral that blazed through the arena, rising to the elevated seats above.
He called out, his voice echoing across the hall:
"It's settled. The last one standing is found. The final member of the Novices is chosen. Congratulations to all our champions."
Cheers pulsed through the stands. I heard my own breath—shaky, ragged—and felt the sting of pride mixing with exhaustion.
I was the last one. The chosen one.
But I was changed, inside and out. My destiny was no longer something to flee—and this world, full of monsters and gods, was ready to watch my next step.