“Oi, Saera! Wake up! This is no time to collapse!”
Rai’s voice cracked with panic. His heart pounded, his mind blank. He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what to do—had no answers.
The man who had been standing nearby sat down slowly. He wore his usual calm mask, but his eyes betrayed his worry.
What if she never wakes up again?
He was bold and blunt by nature—never one to sugarcoat—so he asked plainly, voice cold as always, “Is she alive?”
“Of course she is! What are you talking about? She’s alive and breathing!”
Rai’s voice trembled despite himself. His heart felt like it was being crushed. He couldn’t lose her—not Saera. Not one of the only three survivors of the fire.
“But we can’t take her to a hospital, right?” the man said, pulling a lighter from his pocket and flicking it open lazily. “You’ve already revealed your face to the world. And if they find out I’m alive and with you...”
“…Mhm. You’re right,” Rai replied quietly, the weight of reality sinking in.
“At this rate though…” The man’s tone sharpened. “She’s gonna die.”
Rai turned on him in a flash. No thought—only instinct. His hand shot forward, grabbing the man’s collar and tightening with a rage born from helplessness.
“Oooh! Scary as always!” the man smirked, unbothered. “I’m just stating facts. We don’t have time to argue, Mr. Flame.”
Meanwhile, Saera drifted into the darkness of her memories.
They weren’t kind.
They weren’t warm.
They were soaked in blood.
The blood on her hands now… felt just like it had two years ago.
She remembered that day—as if it had happened only yesterday.
It had been snowing in Anderia. A soft, delicate snow. The kind that made children laugh and mothers pull their cloaks tighter around their little ones. Saera had been one of them—wrapped in her mother’s scarf, humming a tune her father had once taught her. The air was cold, but her world was warm.
“Saera, darling! Lunch is ready! Now hurry up!”
A soft, soothing voice called from the kitchen. Her mother.
Saera had been watching television—something rare in the ghettos—and she eagerly leapt to her feet at the sound of her name.
Then—knock, knock.
“Strange… at this hour?” she whispered, confused. She opened the door and froze in surprise.
“Dad!” she squealed. “That’s a surprise! You finally got a leave!”
“Yes, for my cute little daughter,” he said warmly, sweeping her into his arms. It had been four years since they’d seen each other—she had been just eight then. Now, she was twelve.
“You’ve really grown, Saera,” he smiled, opening the bag he was carrying. “Look, I brought lots of sweets from the city! Now go call your—”
His words stopped.
A blade pierced through his back.
Blood spilt onto Saera’s arms as the sword tore through her father’s uniform. He cried out, stunned—he had never even held a sword before. With what little strength he had, he hurled Saera onto the nearby sofa, shielding her from the attacker.
“Sorry, Saera… I met you after four years… and this is how we meet.”
His voice faded, and then… silence.
He never spoke again.
“DAD!!” Saera’s scream echoed through the house. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she crawled to him, shaking his motionless body. But he was already gone.
She sat frozen, sobbing, unable to process what had happened. Her mind screamed questions she couldn’t answer. Why? Why would anyone kill him? Why her father?
She knew Anderians were treated like dirt by the Bergians… but this? This was beyond cruelty.
The door burst open again—soldiers rushed in, swords drawn, eyes set on the girl.
She raised her trembling hands to shield herself—instinct, fear, desperation. And then…
Ice.
A fierce, sudden burst of frost erupted from her palms. The soldiers froze mid-charge, their bodies locked in jagged crystals. She had no idea how she did it. But they were dead.
Rattled, she stood. Tears still streamed down her cheeks as she turned toward the kitchen.
“Mom…?”
She found her mother lying lifeless on the cold floor. A soldier had entered through the kitchen window—finished her off while Saera had been distracted.
“Mom! Dad!”
The screams came again. Raw. Agonizing. The only two words that left her lips.
She collapsed—her small body unable to carry the weight of her grief. The world faded to black.
When she woke up, she was in a warm, unfamiliar house. She lay on a soft, cozy bed. A man and woman sat beside her.
It was Jonathan—her father’s old friend. His eyes were filled with guilt.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” he said, his voice trembling. “I wasn’t able to save your parents… If only I’d arrived sooner... It’s my fault. If you want to kill me now, I won’t stop you.”
“Jonny! She’s just woken up!” the woman scolded gently. Her voice was calm, sweet—like her mother’s. Saera wanted to scream. To cry. But no words came. The trauma had locked her away from her voice.
The memories haunted her—bloody swords, her father’s scream, her mother’s still body. Night after night, she would wake up crying from nightmares.
Jonathan and the woman took her in, cared for her. And so did a boy who had once been just another face—Rai.
He tried to comfort her, argued with her, played with her. And slowly… she began to heal. Not completely—but enough.
Six months passed.
She learned to laugh again. She woke up early, had breakfast, trained at school till afternoon. She’d eat lunch while watching TV, argued with Rai over which show to watch, chased him around like a cat in the evenings. They’d share dinner together and sleep on the same cozy bed, under the same roof, with a small warmth that grew between them every day.
Her world had changed.
But she hadn’t forgotten.
She never would.
“They’re all dead, Saera. How many more years will you take to realize that?”
It was her own voice—her inner voice—cold and biting.
“You neglect the ones still alive and mourn the ones already gone. Truly pathetic.”
“Rai—the boy you love. His mother. They’re still alive! Stop ignoring them. Be there for them! They are your family now! You vowed to avenge your parents’ deaths. So be strong. Get up.”
It was already dusk.
Rai and the smoke-man still sat on the blood-stained floor, waiting—hoping—for her to wake up.
They had tried everything. Sprinkled water on her face. Called her name over and over.
But nothing worked.
Only a tiny flame of hope remained—and it could be snuffed out at any moment.
Suddenly—
“Look! She opened her eyes! Saera opened her eyes!” Rai exclaimed, his voice breaking with joy and disbelief.
“Huh… You were alive after all,” the smoke-man muttered, still cold, but a hint of relief slipped through.
“I’m glad you’re alright, Saera,” Rai whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. “I was so worried. I can’t afford to lose you here.”
“I’m sorry, Rai,” she said softly. “For always making you worry about me. But not anymore.”
Her voice rose—stronger, clearer, burning with determination.
“From now on, I’ll be the one protecting you.”
Her eyes gleamed with courage.
“I’ll grow stronger—not just for me, but for you… for Uncle Thalen. I swear I’ll surpass even him one day… and I’ll kill the monster who ordered the Anderian massacre!”
A single tear rolled down the smoke-man’s cheek. Just one.
But even one was enough to shock them.
“Oooh? So even you have a heart!” Saera teased, smirking.
“Eh?! W-Well…”
He quickly turned away, face flushed, unable to meet their eyes.
“It’s okay to cry, Smoker,” Rai said, grinning.
“We’re all human after all.”
“Watch out!” Smoker shouted, dashing forward as a water projectile hurtled toward Rai.
With a flash of light, he blasted it apart using a laser strike. The water dispersed mid-air—but something odd remained.
A letter.
Dry. Unharmed. Perfectly intact, even inside the water.
Rai caught it, eyebrows narrowing as he unfolded the damp-less paper.
To Rai,
As I anticipated, you went after the third guild. You've made your move.
Now I'll make mine.
If you still believe in freedom—find me.
I'll be watching you, till the very end.
No name.
No symbol.
Just silence.
Rai’s grip tightened around the letter. Whoever this was... they knew too much.
“A water-type ability… must be the Water Emperor,” Rai muttered, then scoffed. “What an idiot.”
“But what in the world is the water emperor doing here?” Saera stood up confidently, washing her blood-stained clothes.
“He’s an idiot…that’s it…nothing more nothing less…”
He was trying to reassure himself—but the weight in his chest said otherwise. This letter wasn’t just a threat.
It was a challenge.
And a warning.
Rai knew—whoever had sent it might be the only one capable of outplaying him.
“We’re heading out immediately,” Rai ordered. “It’ll take a few hours to reach Gerdon.”
The base was in ruins. The third guild was no more—left behind like a pack of wild wolves without a leader.
Meanwhile…
Gerdon had changed. The once-barren land—reduced to ashes by Rai’s flames—was now a battlefield.
The four generals stood like iron walls, facing off against the chiefs and vice-chiefs of the united guilds.
Bergia had already bled too much in the fire. And now, this surprise assault?
It was war.
“We’re the final line of defense here!” Kael roared. “WE’LL DESTROY YOU!”
The B- and C-rankers of the guild were getting hunted by the Bergian forces; what remained in front of the generals were the two guild chiefs—S-rank beasts—and their two vice-chiefs, A-rankers.
“I’ll take on that guy,” Selric pointed toward one of the guild chiefs, his grin wide. “This’ll be fun!” He laughed, charging forward like a predator stalking its prey.
“Oi! Wait up!” Taren shouted, trying to stop him. “Don’t go off on your own!”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Taren!” Selric’s voice was filled with arrogance. “There’s no one here who can command me! I’ve got this!” He charged, leaving Taren to deal with the other foes.
Garron, the guild chief, was not to be taken lightly. Known as Garron of the Silken Roads, his string manipulation made him a force to be reckoned with. He could control tough metallic puppets, each an S-rank opponent in their own right. Two puppets were all he needed.
“They don’t call me that for nothing!” Garron bellowed as his puppets leapt into action, charging toward Selric.
"My magma’s as strong as Rai’s flames!" Selric boasted confidently, preparing to launch an attack. "Take this! Magma-style Hellish Lava!"
But the puppets barely flinched. The heat of his attacks didn’t affect them. Selric, frustrated, launched attack after attack, but it was useless. His magma was powerful, but not enough to stop these formidable creations. They kept coming, and Selric, wounded and worn down, was forced to retreat.
Thinking quickly, Selric realized the solution wasn’t to defeat the puppets but to restrain them, giving him a path to the real threat—Garron. He couldn’t afford to waste time.
With a growl, Selric baited the puppets into attacking him, luring them closer. Without hesitation, he crouched down, gathering his magma deep beneath the earth. When the magma from above met the molten rock beneath, an explosion rocked the ground, creating a massive crater.
“Reckless, as always...” Kael muttered, his focus still on the vice-chief he was fighting. He had the upper hand in his battle.
The puppets rushed toward the crater, but the explosion had made their path unclear. As they ventured closer, they fell into the lava lake created by Selric’s attack. The heat melted them down to scrap metal, leaving Garron vulnerable.
“A puppet master without his puppets is like a lion without fangs or claws!” Selric shouted, his grin never faltering as he darted toward Garron.
In an instant, it was over. Garron fell.
With one chief down, the remaining fight felt like it was in their favour—until they turned to face Lioren Kade, the second guild chief.
Lioren’s gravity manipulation ability was terrifying. It made him a formidable opponent. While Selric was wounded and had exhausted much of his energy, the other generals were still engaged in their own fights. The thought that Lioren might be able to wipe them all out felt all too real.
“We’ve lost one,” Lioren said calmly, as the pressure around him thickened. “Now, let me show you what real power feels like.”
The ground cracked beneath his feet, and in that moment, everyone knew—this battle was far from over.
If you’ve made it this far—thank you.
Saera’s journey means a lot to me, and I hope her story struck a chord with you too. I’d love to hear your thoughts, theories, or favorite moments. Drop a comment before Chapter 3 drops!
The war for peace is just beginning.
Chapter 3: Clash of the Titans – Coming This Saturday.
New chapters every Saturday from now on!
How do you feel about the story up until now ?
