CHAPTER 155: CONTRITION

The sky split open with light, and dozens — no, hundreds — of glowing projectiles flared above the canopy, each one descending like a fragment of divine wrath. They streaked downward, all of them converging on the mark that still pulsed beneath my feet.

My eyes widened, my breath catching in my throat.

Yep...I’ve got to get out of here.

The ethereal arrows tore through the clouds and came crashing down, a storm of light that screamed like thunder as they fell.

They struck the earth where the glowing mark pulsed beneath my feet, each impact ripping apart soil and stone, tearing the ground open like paper.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

The air shook with the violence of it, the forest echoing with a chaos that rattled through my bones. The sound was deafening, the kind of noise that left your ears ringing even before the final strike had landed.

The ground convulsed under the sheer force, a crater forming where I had stood moments before, the mark obliterated in a storm of light and earth.

It wasn’t just an attack — it was execution, designed to decimate anything foolish enough to be caught in its radius.

Dozens of arrows rained from the heavens until finally the storm ceased, leaving only destruction in its wake and an aftersound that sizzled in the air, sharp and fleeting, like the fading crackle of lightning.

When the glow faded, Zarah fell to her knees.

Her chest heaved as she dragged in air, sweat gleaming against her emerald skin, every breath proof of the toll the skill had taken on her.

That attack had clearly drained her.

Anyone could see it — the tremor in her limbs, the unsteady rise and fall of her chest, the sheen of sweat coating her skin.

A given, really.

That was no ordinary skill; it was something meant to level the battlefield, not be used lightly. It reeked of desperation, of someone gambling every ounce of strength on a single, decisive strike.

But then, all at once, awareness seemed to strike her.

The haze of focus she’d been under shattered, and her eyes widened as if she had only just realized the weight of what she’d done.

"Chief!" she cried, forcing herself unsteadily to her feet.

Her voice carried panic now, sharper and rawer than before, the sound of someone waking from a trance. She had lost herself in the attack, but now she was suddenly conscious of its consequences.

"Chief!" she called again, more desperate this time.

She staggered forward, her bow still trembling in her hand, and moved toward the crater where the mark had been. Her breaths came heavy, each step uneven as her eyes darted frantically across the wreckage.

"Chief!"

Her voice grew more desperate with each cry, cracking at the edges as though it might soon break into something tearful. The forest, still echoing faintly with the memory of the barrage, seemed to hold its breath alongside her, the silence oppressive and heavy with dread.

I stayed hidden a moment longer.

Yeah, I was still alive.

I had blinked away at the very last instant, space folding around me just before the arrows struck. The mark had vanished the moment I slipped through dimensions, most likely because my power was too overwhelming for the restriction of her skill to cling to.

A relief, honestly. The only alternative would have been to take the attack head-on with [Fractured Reality], and without knowing the upper limit of what that skill could endure, the risk wasn’t worth it. One mistake there, and I’d be nothing more than a crater in the dirt.

But watching her now, the way her cries grew weaker, rawer, her head jerking side to side as if afraid she’d actually erased me... it cut into me deeper than I expected.

Her panic wasn’t feigned. She was almost trembling, her voice heavy with guilt, before I had even revealed myself.

That was enough.

I stepped out, letting myself be seen.

She spun at the sound of my footsteps, her eyes finding me instantly. The relief that washed across her face was unmistakable, her shoulders sagging as if a crushing weight had been lifted.

She hurried the last few steps, then dropped to her knees before me, her bow slipping from her grasp. Her words tumbled out, breathless and thick with guilt.

"Chief... I didn’t mean to cause harm. I only thought I had to go all out to stand a chance. Please, forgive me."

"Don’t ask for forgiveness," I said sharply, the edge in my voice making her flinch. "It’s insulting."

Her head jerked upward, eyes wide, searching my face.

I let the silence hang for a beat, then continued, my tone steady, deliberate.

"This is what I wanted from you — to see what you could do at your fullest. And you did not disappoint me." I extended my hand toward her. "So get up."

For a heartbeat, she froze, staring at my outstretched hand as though unsure whether to believe me. Then, slowly, she clasped it, her grip still trembling but firm enough to show she wasn’t entirely broken by her own fear.

If anything, I was more than impressed by what she had just shown me.

I honestly couldn’t imagine any beast or enemy I had faced so far surviving that last attack — [Valkyrie’s Cry] — and walking away whole.

Maybe Amon, with his blood manipulation, might have had some twisted way to endure it, but Chosen like Ezekiel? Or beasts like the Mooncat?

No. They would have been obliterated on the spot.

As expected, her evolution had given her something extraordinary, skills that placed her on a level close to Chosen themselves.

It had to be tied to her heritage somehow, that much was clear.

Zarah rose slowly, her bow clutched tightly in her hand, her gaze lowered to the ground. The aura of strength still clung to her, but despite everything I had said, despite the praise, she looked troubled — frustrated in a way that gnawed at her.

And I thought I understood why.

Despite all my fussing about her trying to harm me, I knew deep down there was more to it. A stronger motivation lay behind every arrow she loosed at me.

It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t resentment.

It was desperation — a need to...