"Golden Light… Outburst!" the gateman bellowed once more, his voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. He hoped to catch Lola off-guard..
But not again. She was prepared this time.
Every moment isn't going to bring ease or give you what you want...
And so was this moment...
At this moment, Lola was ready and could easily evade.
With a sharp inhale and reflexes honed by years of battle, she tapped into a strange, explosive strength even she hadn't known she possessed. Her boots tore off the ground, and with a fierce grip, she grabbed Ralia Amia, launching them both into the air like a rogue firework.
She didn't have time to think—only instincts and priorities. And Ralia was a priority.
Not just because she was a fellow general of Josh Aratat, but because she was a weapon rarer than most: she had the ability to crush armies with emotions alone.
A true empath , one rarely seen.
And though her abilities were currently muted by the magic-resistant bracelet currently worn by the gateman, still, that silencing of her Empath powers had a time limit—30 minutes. And when it wore off? She would be a force of reckoning.
As they soared mid-air, the blast cracked below them, a blinding light and thunderous pulse echoing through the compound. Lola twisted mid-flight, her muscles straining, her mask hissing with her breath as she somersaulted them over the explosion.
Ralia, less gymnastic by nature, barely held in a scream. Her insides lurched like a tossed satchel of stones. When they landed behind a broken archway, she collapsed to her knees, retching forcefully, her orb pulsing erratically in line with her breath.
Lola's eyes, however, didn't blink.
She had already scanned the battlefield.
And her heart fell.
Five more. Five of the freed prisoners—men, women, and one boy barely older than a toddler—had been vaporized by the last blast. Their ashes painted the floor like ghosts of victims that had died without a decent burial.
Then her eyes landed on a sixth form—half-destroyed, barely recognizable, but still familiar.
It was him.
The charming young man who, moments ago, had laughed with her like the weight of the world had finally lifted from his shoulders.
She showed him her face along with other prisoners to calm him down and assure him, before she put her mask back on.
He'd told her he was going to find a woman just as beautiful and fierce as she was, and if she weren't a superhero, he'd have dropped to one knee right there and then and proposed to her. His confidence had made her smile.
She'd even blushed behind her mask, just a little. He was handsome, funny, and bold. For now, her heart belongs to another— Josh Aratat . In another life—perhaps one with fewer monsters and more time—she might have said yes.
But now… now he was dust.
Erased.
Her fingers tightened on the grip of her whip until the leather creaked.
Grief struck first—a brutal, piercing ache in her chest—but it was quickly eclipsed by something far sharper:
Rage.
Not the wild, flailing kind. No, this rage was molten—contained, compressed, and pressurized deep within.
She wouldn't scream. She wouldn't cry. That would waste the fuel.
She would use it.
Then came the sound.
A laugh.
Low. Mocking. Rotten.
> "Aww... did I ruin your little rescue mission?"
The gateman stepped out of the smoke, fully visible now—his grotesque face illuminated by the dying embers of the last explosion. The scar carved across his cheek caught the light like a glinting blade, giving him the look of something carved in cruelty.
He spun his wand lazily in one hand, cocking his head at her.
> "Don't worry, love. I'm still saving you for dessert."
Lola didn't flinch.
She didn't growl or curse.
She just lowered her chin, eyes locked on him like a sniper through scope.
"Keep talking," she said softly, her voice the hush just before a thunderclap.
"I'll make the final seconds of your miserable life feel like a century in hell—so when the devil greets you, it'll feel like mercy."
And without another word, she stepped closer with Ralia Amia behind her.
Her whip coiled beside her like a serpent about to strike, crackling with raw lightning.
Each step she took carved deep into the ash below, a quiet tribute to the fallen. A vow.
The gateman scoffed, his wand spinning again with reckless arrogance.
"Trying to scare me?" he barked with a twisted grin. "Ahahah! Oh, love… let's keep playing."
But Lola didn't flinch.
She didn't blink.
She just stood there—still, collected, terrifying in her composure.
Her whip buzzed with mounting voltage, the air around her shimmering with static. Not from rage—she wasn't unraveling.
She was refining.
The storm inside her had condensed into something surgical.
Precise. Calculated. Fatal.
And it was aimed squarely at the scarred mockery in front of her.
This wasn't revenge anymore.
This was retribution.
"Your last mistake," Lola said quietly, "was thinking this was a game."
And in that moment…
something broke inside her.
Not her will.
Not her resolve.
But a dam—a spiritual lock she hadn't known she was carrying.
A memory surged forward, raw and alive—Josh Aratat's voice, steady and warm, singing a verse of the rise of the blade song that he used to hum whenever he trained her and the other generals, it also helped her when she doubted herself.
A warrior's song.
A verse she once thought was just a ballad.
Now, it was her heartbeat.
> 🎶 Through trials of blood and endless pain,
I forge my path, I break the chain.
From a servant's role to a warrior's pride—
A maid no more, but a storm inside. 🎶
Her body trembled—not in fear, but with awakening.
The wind shifted. The very air around her began to hum, vibrating with an ancient energy—power unshackled.
In the arcane distance, Josh faltered mid-strike, sensing it instantly.
> "She's... breaking through," he whispered, mid-parry with the golden toad. "Lola…"
Back in the field of ash, the song roared in Lola's ears like thunder:
> 🎶 Rise, Rise, let the skies ignite.
A fire reborn, in the heat of the fight.
Increase in strength, as the world takes heed—
Mastery flows like the air I breathe.
Rise, Rise, from the depths we ascend,
An assassin maid, a lieutenant till the end. 🎶
BOOM!
Something continued to break-out like crumbling bread in her mind, it felt like a chain melting under flame.
Light surged through her veins. Her whip coiled like a divine serpent, glowing golden-white, electricity pulsing with the beat of her heart.
She didn't just level up—
She ascended.
A Brigadier.
And with that, Josh Aratat, wherever he stood, felt the ripple in the universe and ascended as well—his rank surging to Brigadier General, as if their souls were tied in a bond beyond the physical.
The wind howled.
The ground cracked in spider-web veins beneath her boots.
People stopped mid-fight to stare at the epicenter. Even the dying paused to witness the birth of something greater.
The gateman, once so arrogant, so drunk on his own power—went pale.
He staggered back a step.
His wand hand shook.
He could feel it.
That was no ordinary aura. That was death approaching, wrapped in grace and lightning.
From the sidelines, Ralia Amia grinned, eyes glowing with wild delight.
> "Oh... you're so dead."
The wave of Lola's breakthrough spread like a tempest—a divine warning.
And across the battlefield, each of Josh's generals paused in mid-fight and whispered with awe:
> "The assassin maid... has risen."