[Eldridge Village | 11 Years Ago]
The scent of soil lingered in the air as golden rays painted the small village of Eldridge in morning warmth. Birds sang, roosters cried, and a soft humming drifted from a cottage at the edge of the fields.
That hum came from her.
Althea.
A girl of fifteen, with soft pink hair tied into a messy braid, violet eyes full of wonder, and skin kissed by sunlight. She wore a patched dress and held a basket of grain, her small figure carrying the weight of more than just harvests.
"Here we go again…" she whispered to herself, hoisting the basket onto her hip and flashing a cheerful smile to the rising sun. "Another day, another miracle."
Her parents—old, frail, and bound to slow steps—watched from the porch.
"You should rest, sweetie," her mother called softly.
"I'll rest when the weeds start walking themselves out of the fields!" Althea laughed, waving a hand. "Besides, the chief said he'll give us extra potatoes this week!"
They looked at each other with guilt in their eyes, but she didn't see it.
She wouldn't let them see her break.
Her life was hard—but her heart stayed kind.
The villagers loved her.
She worked, smiled, helped with births, nursed the sick—all while studying from borrowed notes a friend gave in exchange for Althea doing her homework.
She matured young.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she had to.
[Two Years Later]
At seventeen, Althea stood taller. Her features softened into beauty that made even passing merchants stop and stare. But it wasn't just beauty that made her glow.
She had awakened.
Her mana bloomed like a gentle breeze, and the world answered her call.
A healer. A rare class—more so in the backwaters of a village forgotten by maps.
The Hero Association sent messengers. The Church offered sanctuary.
She refused them all.
"I don't want to save the world," she said with a smile.
"I just want to take care of the two people who raised me."
So she stayed.
Her healing was affordable, her touch warm, her presence magnetic.
Men from nearby towns came just to see her. Some faked injuries. Some brought gifts.
But she always kept her distance—polite, never encouraging.
Until he came.
[Darven Town – One Evening]
"Marry me," said Jayant, the son of the town lord.
Fat, leering, dressed in fine silk stained with sweat. His eyes slithered across her figure, and his tongue licked his lips before words even left them.
Althea smiled—tight, uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," she said, lowering her head. "My parents need me. I have no plans to marry."
Jayant's smile twitched. His pride cracked.
And the same night... he sent bandits.
•••••
It was supposed to be a routine return to her village.
She sensed them too late—five shadows stepping from trees, weapons gleaming, their eyes dripping with lust and cruelty.
"You don't have to scream," one said. "No one's coming."
They encircled her.
She trembled. Her hands clenched.
"Who are you?"
"Why are you doing this?"
A cruel laugh answered. And then... he stepped forward.
Jayant. Mocking. Grinning.
"You should've said yes."
She panicked—threw soil in one's eyes and ran. The bandits laughed, chasing her like hunters toying with prey.
She ran until her legs gave out, until they caught her.
They beat her.
Mocked her.
Held her down.
Jayant approached, his hands roamed around her body tracing her curves. He tore her robe apart leaving only her bra to cover her chest.
He couldn't hold back anymore his hand reaching for the last layer that protected her dignity.
"Please..." she whispered. "I have to take care of my parents..."
And that's when a piercing sound came.
An arrow pierced through Jayant's skull, dropping him like filth to the ground.
Another arrow. Then another. Then another.
Bandits died in seconds—clean, ruthless shots through eyes and hearts.
The last two stood frozen—until vines surged from the earth, wrapping around their legs like serpents.
They never stood a chance.
From the shadows walked a boy.
Eighteen. Messy black hair, calm brown eyes. Bow in hand. Quiet fury in his gaze.
He said nothing at first.
Just knelt beside her, took off his robe, and gently wrapped it around her torn body.
"You're safe now," he said, softly.
"No one will harm you again."
And that was how Amael entered her life.
Not as a lover.
But as a savior.
•••••
Amael told everything to his parents and village chief about what happened since she passed out from crying in her mother's arm.
Amael spend the night in village chief's house and was treated like a savior.
Next morning, after giving his farewell he went out of the village.
Amael was supposed to leave.
But the girl with trembling hands and violet eyes held onto his sleeve and asked him to stay.
She thanked him for protecting her from the bandits.
"Come visit me. Every week," she said with a teary smile.
"Every week?" He asked her, as it was not possible for him with his job.
"You don't want to see me again…?" she asked him with teary eyes, as if he says no she will starts crying hard.
He felt as if he refused he will be branded as a criminal.
How could he say no?
Especially when the entire village was glaring at him like they'd beat him senseless if he made her cry.
So he returned.
Every week.
Then twice a week.
Then… without needing a reason.
Althea will wait for him since early morning, and when he will arrive she will cook for him herself.
She asked him to teach her how to use bow.
He taught her to shoot. She learned fast—not because she wanted to fight, but because she didn't want to feel helpless again.
They shared meals. Laughed. Healed together. Fell into rhythm like sun and sky.
And somewhere between all of that…
They fell in love.
[Two Years Later]
A lot changed in these two years.
Amael now was a full grown man.
Althea was radiant. Strong. Happy.
Her parents, now healthier thanks to Amael's medicines, watched from their porch with teary eyes.
They can now move and work like again.
Now there only wish was to see her daughter wedding before they leave the world.
One night, they pulled Amael aside.
"She's everything to us. If you love her… marry her."
So he did.
Nervously, awkwardly, earnestly—he asked.
"I… I like you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you… marry me?"
She didn't reply with words.
She kissed him, with tears in her eyes.
All this time she was worried that one day he will leave her and she won't be able to see him again.
But now she can live with him forever.
And the whole village cheered as they wed under cherry blossom trees that swayed with spring winds.
They gave the couple a house. Small. Humble. Filled with warmth.
•••••
Just like this two years passed happily.
Their son was born a year later.
A small sparkle of light with his father's eyes and her soft pink hair.
She named him Lioren, meaning "light after rain."
And life was beautiful.
Their son, was now a year old—chubby-cheeked and always giggling, with eyes just like his father. The house smelled of stew every evening, laughter echoed through their walls, and for once, life didn't feel like survival.
She cooked, healed, laughed.
Amael took smaller quests to stay with her.
Her parents finally had peace in their hearts.
Then came the letter.
Amael opened it at the dinner table—his hands slightly trembling as his eyes read the emblem.
Hero Association – Direct Recruitment Notice.
He was being scouted to work under an S-rank Hero—one of the strongest in the empire. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
"It's in Angelis," he said, swallowing hard. "The capital. They're offering a home there too—for us."
Althea smiled, hiding the dread in her chest.
"That's… amazing, Amael. I'm proud of you."
That night the couple were extremely happy and sad at the same time.
[Life in the Capital – Angelis]
The capital of Angelis was nothing like the village.
Towers of white marble stretched into the clouds. Mana lights glowed in every corner. The streets bustled with nobles, merchants, and soldiers.
At first, Althea felt small in the chaos.
But Amael never let go of her hand.
The home the Association gave them wasn't grand, but it was enough—two bedrooms, a small garden, and a warm hearth.
She planted herbs there.
Lioren chased butterflies.
And when Amael came back from missions, they'd all sit on the floor and eat together—no nobles, no duties, just family.
Althea started a tiny healing clinic on the side street.
She didn't need money—Amael provided that—but helping others made her feel useful. Fulfilled.
They would explore the city on weekends.
Lioren rode on Amael's shoulders, and Althea would laugh while holding both their hands. Sometimes they'd sneak into festivals, eat too much street food, or ride a glowing mana boat across the lakes.
Even in the capital, even with all her scars—Althea smiled again.
She dared to believe that maybe… just maybe…
"We'll grow old together."
She kissed Amael on the balcony that night, with city lights below them.
But peace was never hers to keep.
Happiness is a cruel thing.
Because once you have something that pure…
The world always comes to take it.
[Two years later]
The news came and shook her whole.
The village, Eldridge, had been wiped out.
Monsters surged through corrupted forests.
The Hero Association did nothing, too late before they reached the place.
There were no survivors.
Not even bodies to bury.
Her parents died without a grave.
Their home burned without a memory.
Althea fell to her knees. Screamed until her voice gave out.
Only Amael held her—saying nothing, just letting her break.
Just after she lost her family.
Three weeks later,
Shadow Prince attacked in the Hero Academy.
Not only this his whole army was roaming and killing in the street of Angelis.
Amael was sent on a mission.
A rank upgrade under an S-rank hero.
He was supposed to be safe.
But when the Shadow Prince attacked… his team fled.
They left him behind.
His body was found days later—torn, mangled, unrecognizable.
They gave her a ring. That's all they could find.
Her heart shattered and world broke.
She stopped speaking for days.
Only her child's smile kept her tethered to the world.
•••••
But life was still not easy for her.
The Hero Association came knocking again.
"You're a healer. We need you."
She refused.
So they threatened her child.
They made her work long shifts. Forced her to drink potions until her mana bled.
She wasn't a healer anymore.
She was a tool. A slave.
Her clinic was now a cage. Her robes, stained with blood that wasn't hers.
And still… she smiled when she came home. For him.
For Lioren.
"Grow strong, little one. Then I can go and be with Papa…"
But even this was too much to ask for?
Fate played another game with her.
A year later.
It was the Princess's birthday. She had a shift.
Just one night, she told herself. One night away.
But while the nobles danced…
The shadows came.
The Shadow Prince returned with his monsters.
By the time she returned… the sky was still red.
Her home collapsed. Blood soaked the ground.
She found her son's body beneath broken stone.
His arms and legs were gone.
"Mama…"
That was the last word the maid heard before running.
Althea held what remained of him. All night.
Cried until her throat tore.
Screamed until her heart stopped.
Dawn came. She sat by the ruins, hollow and broken with everything lost.
That's when the man came.
A hooded figure, calm and slow.
"They will never answer for what they did. Unless you make them."
"Who… are you?"
"I am the hand that offers the flame."
"Will it bring him back…?"
"No. But it will make the ones who watched him die… burn."
He showed her the Black Flame. Dark as death. Whispering hatred.
"You'll die after," he said. "This power is not mercy. It is retribution."
Althea stood. Her body numb. Her heart gone.
"Good."
She took the flame.
And she changed.
Her hair turned black.
Her skin pale.
Her eyes emptied.
The girl who once smiled while carrying wheat...
Was gone.
That day Althea died and with her death Nemesis was born.
The girl who healed every one died broke and lost when she needed help.
[Present time]
Now, the underground hall echoed with silence as 200 broken souls kneeled before her.
Their names lost. Their hearts chained.
She sat upon a throne of shadow—no longer Althea.
She was Nemesis.
"They called us weak while we wept."
"They never came when we begged."
"So now… we will make them beg."
She raised her hand.
"Let the world call us monsters."
"We were never their people anyway."
"Let the retribution begins."
And the violet flames danced black.
The Forsaken vanished into the night.
And Nemesis, the Queen of the Broken, began her war.
[END OF CHAPTER]