The heavens broke.
Rain poured from the sky in violent sheets, as though even the world itself could no longer bear witness to grief.
Thunder rolled like war drums.
Lightning split the darkness like divine judgment.
And upon that ruined battlefield…
Selara stood.
Aren's blood still stained her hands.
His warmth still lingered against her skin.
His final smile still carved into her soul.
But Selara no longer trembled.
No longer wept.
No longer broke.
She rose slowly from the mud.
Rain cascading down her armor.
Washing away tears that refused to stop falling.
Yet her eyes…
Her eyes no longer held sorrow.
They held annihilation.
The enemy soldiers felt it first.
That shift in the air.
That suffocating pressure.
That primal instinct screaming a single truth—
Run.
But it was already too late.
Selara moved.
And the storm followed.
Steel flashed like lightning.
Her blade cutting through the rain-soaked battlefield with terrifying precision.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
No humanity.
She was no longer fighting soldiers.
She was carving through fate itself.
Men fell before they could scream.
Before they could react.
Before they could understand what had become of the woman once known as a commander.
Because this was not battle.
This was wrath.
Lightning illuminated her silhouette — a phantom of silver and death, hair drenched, armor gleaming beneath heaven's fury.
Thunder answered every strike.
Rain masked every cry.
"She's a monster!"
"She's not human!"
"RETREAT!"
But Selara heard nothing.
Saw nothing.
Felt nothing.
All she saw…
Was Aren falling.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Her blade became an extension of grief.
Each strike a scream.
Each movement a sob.
Each fallen enemy a desperate, useless offering to the void left behind.
And at the heart of the chaos…
He stood.
The Enemy Commander.
Untouched.
Unmoved.
Watching.
Rain streamed down his dark armor as he observed the devastation with narrowed eyes.
"So…"
His voice was calm.
Cold.
"…this is the famed Knight Commander."
Selara stopped.
Across the battlefield.
Rain pounding between them like a curtain of fate.
Slowly…
She lifted her gaze.
And for the first time—
He saw it.
Not rage.
Not hatred.
But something far more terrifying.
Nothing.
Eyes hollowed by loss.
Soul stripped bare.
A silence so deep it suffocated the air itself.
Then—
She walked.
Not rushed.
Not charged.
But walked.
Blade dragging through the mud.
Rain cascading endlessly from heaven's broken heart.
"You've lost control," the commander sneered, raising his sword. "Grief makes warriors weak."
Selara did not respond.
Lightning cracked.
Thunder roared.
And the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then—
She vanished.
Steel collided with explosive force.
A shockwave of power tearing through rain and earth alike.
The commander staggered backward, eyes widening.
Fast.
Too fast.
Impossible.
Selara's attacks came like the storm itself.
Relentless.
Unpredictable.
Overwhelming.
He blocked once.
Twice.
Three times.
But Selara was no longer bound by discipline.
No longer constrained by strategy.
No longer tethered to fear.
She fought like something unleashed from the depths of despair itself.
Lightning flashed again—
And suddenly—
Her blade was at his throat.
The commander froze.
Rain dripping from the razor edge of death.
For the first time…
Fear entered his eyes.
Selara's grip tightened.
Her breathing ragged.
Unsteady.
Violently controlled.
"…You…"
Her voice emerged — hoarse, fractured, trembling with restrained devastation.
"…took…"
Rain fell harder.
Thunder shook the earth.
"…everything."
The commander lunged desperately.
But grief was faster than fear.
Steel flashed.
Silence fell.
The commander's sword slipped from his fingers.
Eyes wide.
Disbelieving.
And slowly…
He collapsed into the rain-soaked earth.
The battlefield froze.
Enemy soldiers staring in horror.
Because the storm had claimed its king.
Selara stood over him.
Rain pouring endlessly.
Blade trembling.
Chest heaving.
Victory.
Revenge.
Justice.
Yet—
Nothing filled the void.
Because Aren was still gone.
Her fingers tightened painfully around her weapon.
Body shaking violently.
Not from exhaustion.
But from something far more fragile.
Far more broken.
"…Why…"
The whisper escaped her lips.
Lost beneath the roar of rain.
Lightning flickered across the battlefield.
Illuminating fallen bodies.
Ruined dreams.
And a warrior who had won everything…
Yet lost the only thing that mattered.
Selara's knees gave way.
Armor crashing against mud.
Rain swallowing her completely.
And then—
She screamed.
A sound so raw.
So shattered.
So violently torn from the depths of a broken heart…
That even thunder seemed to fall silent before it.
"AARRREENNN!!"
The heavens wept harder.
As though answering her agony.
As though mourning with her.
As though powerless to undo what fate had stolen.
Selara collapsed forward into the rain.
Hands clawing into mud.
Shoulders shaking violently.
Grief finally ripping through the walls rage had built.
"I killed them…"
Her voice cracked into broken sobs.
"I killed them all…"
But the storm gave no answer.
Because some losses could not be avenged.
Only endured.
And somewhere…
Beyond rain…
Beyond war…
Beyond life itself…
Aren's final smile lingered like a ghost she could never escape.