After devouring her meal with a voracious hunger, Jinra felt another, more urgent need tugging at her. A pressing desire, as mundane as it was imperative. Without hesitation, she withdrew into a discreet corner, away from prying eyes, and allowed herself this brief moment of privacy to relieve her body. There, in the silence, she let her mind drift toward the shadow dimension — that cold, immaterial place where the distant voice of the system echoed, this mechanical entity that regulated her powers and dictated her limits.
Breathing deeply, she voiced the question burning on her lips, tinged with an almost palpable annoyance: "System, how can I destroy an entire village infested with goblins and hobgoblins, led by a mysterious chief who grants them abnormal strength?"
The silence stretched, heavy, before a neutral, cold voice replied: "I cannot help you with this mission."
Jinra furrowed her brows, incredulous. "What? You, my one and only friend, refuse to help me?"
The system answered, its voice detached like a metallic echo: "True friendship between master and servant is impossible. Tell me, Jinra, what does friendship mean to you?"
This question caught her off guard, leaving her suspended for a moment. "I… I thought you had the answer to everything." But the silence persisted, heavier than before.
A dull irritation rose within her, mixed with a hint of loneliness. "I don't know either." Strangely, this simple word — "friendship" — triggered something in the system's circuits, a flaw or doubt unlike itself.
"If you help me understand what friendship is, I will propose a solution to defeat this village."
Jinra shrugged, half skeptical, half cynical. "If you want."
The system resumed, this time more calculating: "Here is the plan. If you execute it perfectly, you will become stronger. You will learn to make your environment a weapon, an innate reflex."
Leaving the shadow dimension, Jinra activated her skill "Gravitational Mastery, level 3." A strange sensation enveloped her: her body became lighter, almost floating, as if the laws of physics bent to her will. Her internal gravity decreased by 35%, granting her lightning speed. She began to run, so fast that the world around her blurred into a cascade of indistinct shapes and colors.
Then, suddenly, she hit an invisible obstacle, lost balance, and fell to the ground. A burning pain reminded her that an old wound had reopened, but her flesh was already slowly closing. She grimaced, gritting her teeth: "That hurts…"
"You have exceeded the speed of sound," the system intervened, cold and pragmatic. "At that speed, even the smallest obstacle becomes a deadly threat."
Jinra, wiping dust from her face, snapped: "Your plan is to kill me?"
"I order you to execute without question."
She shrugged, a bitter smile on her lips. "Very well, I'm playing along."
A hobgoblin stumbled awkwardly between the tree trunks, completely unaware of the looming danger. Jinra's smile stretched cruel, merciless. In a fraction of a second, she dashed, her movements becoming an invisible dance, a slash of lightning through the air. The creature was reduced to a pile of pieces, precise and clean, like a macabre masterpiece, a surgical work.
"See, system, this is how it's done," she said proudly.
The system responded with ruthless coldness: "You remain one of the weakest among the Guardians."
Anger exploded inside her like a blazing fire. "You should thank me instead of putting me down!"
A silence settled, then the electronic voice resumed, tinged with distant irony: "Noted."
"No, you have to say you're sorry."
The system hesitated, then concluded, almost reluctantly: "Your mental state has improved. You will feel better. So, I apologize."
A slight smile lit Jinra's face. "So, what are we waiting for?"
With precise care, she gathered the hobgoblin's pieces. Her nimble fingers assembled each limb, each joint, merging the organic and technological parts of her system in a macabre ballet. Soon, the puppet stood up, animated by her will, a sinister marionette with mechanical movements.
She left the forest, slowly climbing a cliff overlooking the village below. There lay a sea of green, repugnant and countless creatures, a horde ready to surge. The wind carried their growls, wild cries, and a pungent smell heavy with promises of death.
Jinra cast a cold gaze, sharp as a blade. "The Puppeteer's show can begin."