The culprit of that day officially marked it as one of the most unfortunate in her life. Every moment seemed to turn against her, as if fate itself had decided to test her.
Behind her, destroying everything in its path, chased a massive, four-armed gorilla, the size of a fully grown elephant. Its fur gleamed under the sunlight, and each step shook the ground like an earthquake.
Delia knew: fighting this creature would be suicide. Her instincts screamed that the opponent was a serious threat, far more dangerous than any she had faced before. But seeing that the pursuer showed no signs of stopping, she realized there was no escaping.
Running blindly would only increase the chances of encountering something even more unpredictable.
She assessed the terrain. Trees were scattered, the ground flat, without sharp rocks — an ideal place for a fight. Wasting no time, Delia swung her sword in a turn and launched a couple of blades at the beast.
The fur absorbed almost all the damage, only slightly cutting the skin. But she paid it no mind: the gorilla continued forward, undeterred.
With all four limbs, it struck the ground. The shockwave split the earth, knocking Delia off her feet and sending her several meters away. As she fell, every bone in her body signaled pain, but there was no time to pause.
Rising again, she was attacked anew: another blow sent her into the air, and only a tree saved her from a more painful landing. A cloud of dust concealed her for a moment.
"Arghhh!" The beast, proud and furious, beat its chest and roared deafeningly.
{Damn…} — flashed through Delia's mind.
Hearing the arrogance of her enemy and feeling the sharp pain from broken bones, she felt something awaken in her heart, something that had slept for centuries.
Rage — ancient and relentless — filled every cell of her body.
Slowly, majestically, she rose. Every movement carried incredible force: her black hair grew to her shoulders, as if absorbing the darkness of the night, and her eyes, icy and piercing, sparkled like millennia-old ice.
Her muscles tensed, her height increased — her body assumed the shape of a perfect machine of destruction.
The enemy froze under the weight of her gaze. It did not even realize it was facing not a girl, but the embodiment of war itself. Her breathing became even and deadly, and her presence — overwhelming. The moment came when the pitiful creature understood its place — at her feet.
Wasting no time, Delia mobilized colossal energy and unleashed the most powerful attack from her sword. The blade, far surpassing her previous strikes, sliced through the air, destroying everything in its path toward the monster. Without waiting for it to reach its target, Delia drew her second sword and charged at the gorilla.
The beast managed to raise its limbs for defense.
Collision.
Haaa-rrr!
The dull thud of a severed arm hitting the ground was accompanied by a spray of blood and a piercing scream. Black fur on the creature's chest quickly turned crimson from the long, deep cut. It barely had time to react when another strike followed: the blade pierced its chest, and after passing through flesh, it broke against bone, lodging in the wound.
Landing behind her enemy, Delia was not satisfied with the quality of the swords. Memories of the axe involuntarily surfaced in her mind, stirring a pang of longing.
Shaking off the thoughts, she waited for her opponent to turn toward her — she had no intention of attacking from behind.
— Feeling pain? Well, cry! — her voice, cold and disdainful, cut through the air. Her icy eyes burned through the beast.
The gorilla, clever enough to recognize the tone, growled and lunged again. But Delia stood motionless, as if testing it. When the creature's paw slammed toward her, she tensed her muscles and met the blow with a counter movement.
Delia was pushed several meters back, but the gorilla didn't budge. It seemed the girl had lost the strength contest, yet the deformed, bloodied fist of the beast told a different story.
— Ha-ha-ha! — laughter burst from her chest, and with it went the pain. The taste of power filled her. The battle had fully shifted into her hands.
The wounded, weakened beast made a desperate attempt to grab Delia. Its paw passed mere centimeters from her face, stirring her hair, and the gorilla, losing balance, fell to the ground.
Blood foamed from its mouth, its breathing shallow and weak.
Delia approached the fallen foe slowly. Her gaze was cold, impassive, without the slightest hint of pity.
— It's over. You made your choice.
She tore the core from the creature's body and left the battlefield. Her heart gradually calmed, adrenaline receded, replaced by slight fatigue, dizziness, and nausea.
With effort, she took a nutrition bar prepared by Qin Xuan, ate it, feeling her strength slowly return, and set out to find a place to rest.
Each step was both a sensation of victory and a warning: the world was full of dangers, and only those who understand their limits can survive.
Delia stopped at a small stream. The water reflected her black hair and icy eyes. She took a deep breath.
Power without control — nothing but destruction. Power without purpose — emptiness. And purpose… purpose must be clear, otherwise every victory turns into defeat.
Her gaze shifted to the clearing where the battle had raged moments before. Every tree, every branch reminded her that danger could lurk around every corner, and a single weakness could cost many lives.
— But I will not lose, — she whispered. — Not today, not tomorrow. Not before this beast, nor before those stronger than me. I will be strong, and let everything that moves in this world learn to fear my name.
The words were spoken not only to her enemies but to herself — to the inner fear that sought to awaken with the adrenaline, to the parts of her soul that wanted to doubt.
She closed her eyes and felt the gentle breath of the wind on her face. For the first time since the fight, she sensed peace, however fleeting.
— And yet… — she smiled, — power without control means nothing. It is needed to protect those dear to you, those who believe in you. Everything else… is just dust on the road.
With these thoughts, Delia finally sat on the ground, leaning against a tree, allowing herself to rest. Her body ached, her spirit remained tense, but the inner resolve and the philosophy of strength she had realized that day made her stronger.
Every scar, every scratch was now not only a mark of battle but a reminder of who she was and who she would become.