Chapter 7 - No One Heard Her Cry
Malrik fell a few kilometres away from the Eagles’ hideout, with Saera chasing after him.
"I hope you're prepared to die, you murderer!" Saera screamed, her voice trembling with pain and rage. "I’ll finally avenge you... Mom, Dad..." She glanced up at the night sky, lit by streaks of red and blue light.
"You’re an idiot, girl," Malrik said, standing up, his arm bleeding. "You should've hit me with your strongest attack back there."
"You’ll taste it soon enough!" Saera snarled, preparing to strike.
"You don’t understand," he said, drawing his sword. His eyes suddenly gleamed green. "You caught me by surprise once, but now..."
He unleashed his aura—terrifying, even if not on the level of a royal guard. "Now, you won’t even lay a finger on me."
Saera’s fingers trembled. She could feel it—beating him would take more than just courage.
"You sure are confident, huh?" she said, forcing herself to sound unfazed. "You pathetic imperial dog!"
She charged forward, an ice sword forming in her hands. She swung hard—yet to her shock, the sword passed through Malrik without resistance, as if he wasn't even there.
Again and again, she struck—faster, harder—but it was like slicing through mist.
Backing away, panting, Saera barely had time to react before Malrik closed the distance and slashed her arm with his blade.
"You’re going to end up dead, girl," he taunted.
"Tch..." Saera winced, blood dripping from her wound. "At this rate... this’ll get ugly..."
"But I’ve realized something, murderer!" she snapped back, trying to keep her resolve burning.
"Huh? What are you babbling about now?" Malrik scratched his ear lazily, yawning. "Doesn’t matter what you figured out. You can’t win. Surrender already."
"Your ability can’t stay active all the time, can it?" Saera said, ignoring him. "If it did, you wouldn’t even be able to hold your sword... or you’d have sunk straight through the earth to the core!"
Malrik’s eyebrows lifted in mild surprise, before he chuckled.
"You're a clever girl, I'll give you that... but so what? You still can’t beat me!"
"I can!" Saera yelled, dashing forward at full speed.
But again, she passed through him. And in the blink of an eye, Malrik deactivated his ability, swung his sword, and caught her with another brutal slash. His timing was flawless.
Saera stumbled back, clutching her side. Wounded, but unyielding.
"Well, I must commend you," Malrik said mockingly. "You figured out my weakness—only speed can beat me."
"It was obvious," Saera growled. "If I’m faster than you can react, I can land a hit!"
"But you couldn’t even touch me at your fastest," Malrik said, grinning.
"Does it have anything to do with your green eyes?" she asked, hesitantly.
"Bingo!" he laughed. "My eyes let me see fast movements easily—gives me time to activate my technique without fail."
"Tch... damn you!"
Without waiting another second, Saera rushed at him again, her speed blinding—but the outcome remained unchanged.
Each time, Malrik struck her down effortlessly, his blade cutting her over and over.
Her chest was slashed open, blood pouring from her wounds.
She collapsed near Malrik's feet, struggling to breathe, her lungs pierced and broken.
But he wasn’t done.
Malrik stabbed her through the chest again and again, each blow fueled by the seething hatred burning in his eyes.
Finally, he kicked her aside, sending her battered body rolling across the blood-soaked ground.
Saera lay motionless—her face unrecognizable beneath blood and bruises, her chest torn open, her arms broken and bleeding, her fingers twisted and raw. She tried to get up, but her body lay sprawled out, defeated, too shattered to move.
"This was the obvious outcome, you ice witch!" Malrik roared arrogantly, standing tall with only a minor wound on his arm from when she had caught him off guard.
But there was something off about him — he wasn’t satisfied. The bloodlust radiating from him was unmistakable. He marched toward her again, unleashing brutal kicks — to her face, her chest, her thighs, her legs — wherever he could reach.
Saera couldn’t even scream. Her throat was too damaged, her body too broken. Breathing alone demanded every ounce of strength she had left.
It was a humiliating defeat — she lay helpless at her enemy’s mercy. The fight had been completely one-sided, despite her best efforts. It was clear now — she was no match for Malrik.
Her battered body said it all — she wouldn’t last much longer. Her end was near.
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The dried blood crusted on her face grew wet again as tears slipped down her cheeks, the bitter realization crashing over her:
she would die here, unable to avenge her parents.
"By now, Faeron and the others must have finished their business too!" Malrik sheathed his sword, his eyes turning black once again. "With this, the Eagles are finished!"
Malrik hurried back toward the hideout to check on the situation, while Saera remained on the ground — helpless, death drawing nearer with every breath she struggled to take.
High above, Lioren was locked in battle with Izak — beams of red and blue light clashing violently in the sky. Suddenly, the red beam shrank, concentrating into a single point. The blue light quickly followed, stopping just in front of it.
"What are you doing, Lioren? Not coming at me?" Izak growled, tightening his grip around his sword.
"This is getting us nowhere…" Lioren muttered, focusing his aura into a single point.
"Well, then I’m coming!" Izak shouted, charging forward. His swords struck at Lioren's arms relentlessly. Blood ran down Lioren’s arms, but his concentration remained unbroken.
It was the same technique he’d used in Gerdon—when he crushed the sky itself.
A dense orb of red light hovered above, pulsing like a dying sun – a meteor!
"Tch…" Izak clicked his tongue in urgency, glancing upward as he halted his strikes. "Wouldn’t this harm your allies too?"
"You don’t need to worry about them… Smoker is light itself — he can get away easily. I can’t sense Garron’s aura... he’s probably dead. And Saera is busy with Malrik, far from here," Lioren said calmly.
"Damn you!" Izak cursed, rushing upward. Radiating more blue aura than before, he slashed furiously at the descending meteor, breaking it into pieces. Lioren followed him, bombarding him with gravity-type attacks as Izak desperately shattered the debris.
Both men were exhausted and wounded now. They plummeted downward along with the debris — but suddenly, a beast summoned by Faeron struck Lioren with its sharp claws.
"Faeron! Don’t interfere! The match was a draw!" Izak protested.
"Idiot. It wasn’t a duel," Faeron said coldly, catching Izak safely in his arms. "It’s simply a war."
Lioren crashed to the ground — defeated, but alive.
The moment Malrik reached the hideout and saw Mira standing beside Smoker, he dashed forward, sword in hand.
The blade tore into Smoker’s back, catching him off guard.
"Chief!" Mira cried out.
“Damn you…” Smoker growled, tossing away the cigarette from his mouth. In a flash of light, he blinked away from the next blow.
“Tsk… I thought that was enough to kill you,” Malrik muttered, disappointed, licking the blood off his blade.
“Don’t think a stab can kill me,” Smoker replied sharply, as Mira quickly tied a strip of cloth around his waist to stem the bleeding.
“Wait—” Smoker suddenly snapped. “What happened to Saera?! Where is she?!”
“Well, I guess it’s pretty clear...” the imperial dog laughed, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust. “I don’t need to say anything, do I?”
“You bastard!” Smoker’s voice cracked with fury. “I’ve already lost too much… and you’re just adding to it!”
Two light-bullets burst from his hands and struck Malrik before he could react. One hit his right shoulder, knocking him to his knees, his left hand clutching the wound. But Smoker didn’t let up—he unleashed a barrage of lasers, one after another, merciless and unrelenting.
“Your ability won’t work here, Anderian Chief!” he roared, the lasers hammering into Malrik’s arms, legs, chest—there was no way a wounded soldier could dodge them all.
“I know your ability very well... Even with those green eyes and S-rank reflexes, activating it takes time!”
Far away from there, Saera lay on the ground, struggling to breathe.
“Saera!” Rai cried desperately, halting his horse midway to their base.
Her face was so battered it was nearly unrecognizable. Rai’s heart sank. He dismounted quickly and rushed to her side, dropping to his knees.
“That chief guy did this to you, right?” His voice cracked. Tears fell like raindrops onto her blood-caked cheeks. “Don’t die, please! I—”
“They say it right… he’s truly the ruthless hunter.”
Rai checked her pulse. Faint, but there. Her breathing was heavy—shallow—but she was alive.
“You’ll make it, Saera. You’re alive after all this—”
“If nothing is done, she’ll die in a few minutes, Rai, my little cry-baby.”
A voice cut through the moment—gentle, yet heavy with truth. Rai froze.
He turned immediately, recognizing the voice. Standing behind him was the Bergian Empress—Elira Stormhart—the only S-class healer in the world. Her aura was gentle, warm, calm.
She was someone he could never forget.
When he was five, Rai’s father had travelled to Bergia for mysterious reasons—possibly to meet his brother-in-law, Crown James II, and his newlywed bride. Rai had gone with him, only to be left behind in the royal palace when his father vanished without explanation. For nearly a year, the Empress herself had cared for him until his dad came back with no explanation of where he had been for those years.
James had refused to have a child, and so Elira had taken Rai under her wing like a son for that year. She comforted him, held him, played with him, pampered him. He would only sleep when she cradled him in her arms and recited ancient folk tales.
“Rai… you’ve grown so much, no, son?” Elira said softly. She was tall, adorned in elegant royal garb, a crown upon her head, glittering jewels draped across her body. C-rank soldiers flanked her silently.
“Seeing your teary face reminds me of that day in the garden—when you got pricked by that horn flower. You cried like mad! Even I teared up. Then I healed you… and that smile you gave me—I remember it to this day. It was the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.”
Rai listened to her silently. But as soon as she paused, he spoke.
“Elira-mum… I’m sorry. I never wanted this. But you’re the enemy now. If the Bergian troops see you with me, it could put us both in danger.”
“We’ll talk later. First, let me heal your girlfriend. You don’t want her to die, do you?”
“G-Girlfriend?!” Rai stammered, cheeks flushing as he wiped away his tears. Still… he trusted her. If anyone could save Saera, it was Elira.
She stepped past him and knelt beside Saera. Her hands began to glow faintly.
“The wounds are deep,” she said, her voice serious. “Even with constant healing, it’ll take at least half an hour. Make sure no one sees me until then.”
“Why are you helping me?” Rai asked, suspicious. He had made the whole world his enemy now. He trusted Elira as a healer, but not as an ally.
“Does a mother need a reason to help her child?” Elira snapped, glaring at him with a sharp, almost frightening look.
“But I’m your enemy,” Rai said slowly, pushing himself up, still confused. The area around them was still cloaked in darkness—no one could see them clearly.
“Seems like a lot has happened to you, my child…” Elira’s voice trembled as tears welled in her eyes. “Now you’re even doubting me?”
Back at the ruined base, Smoker’s ruthless lasers hammered Malrik—one after another—until suddenly, a dark shield appeared, blocking the attack and defending the wounded chief.
A tall figure emerged—one of the four royal guards: Varek Voltaine, wielder of darkness.
A cold, chilling aura spread across the battlefield.
“Cease fire!” came a commanding voice from Smoker’s left.
The sky above filled with the shadow of a massive airship bearing the Bergian flag. To Smoker’s left, the darkness deepened due to Varek’s presence. But within seconds, the view became clearer.
Two royal guards stood confidently—Varek and Zara.
But they weren’t the ones behind the overwhelming aura.
The source stood between them—a man with a crown on his head, wrapped in a deep red royal robe lined with golden trim and a heavy, dark fur cloak.
Crown James II, Emperor of Thunder—ruler of Bergia—had arrived.
Next Week in Chapter 8 – The Price of Survival
“Hell… born into this rotten world, there’s not a single damn thing worth suffering through,” I muttered, my voice breaking. Tears streamed down my face as I pulled my hat low to hide them.
I stared up at the cracked wooden ceiling of our house. I wanted to die. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I had to survive — for her… and for Myra.
Then came the phase I never want to remember.
Each day was torture — my mother working herself to the bone in town, the stale scraps of food we somehow managed to find, and the nightly horror. The man kept coming. Even as she grew weaker, even when she could barely breathe, he still forced himself on her.
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