MANA!

"4 months before it begins." she sighed.

The woman with lavender hair stood in her personal shooting range, her sports bra clinging to her sweat-drenched skin.

The air was thick with the subtle scent of gunpowder of spent bullets. She lowered her gun, her breath steady, her eyes sharp as she called forth the target. It was riddled with holes, each one hitting the mark she intended or at least close enough. At the center, a single red mark glared back at her—her final shot, perfectly placed. She smiled with satisfaction crossing her face before it faded into a cold stoic face.

" Guns will be useful in the initial phase but once they start getting armor it'll be useless. However, that isn't the same for explosions." she thought to herself

She moved to the treadmill, her lean frame gliding effortlessly as she increased the speed to an almost Olympic pace. Her lavender hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, swayed with each stride. But soon, her breaths grew ragged, her chest heaving as she pushed herself to the limit. 

Her sprint was 10 minutes long at full speed but she wasn't satisfied.

When she finally stepped off, her legs trembled slightly, but she remained firm. She grabbed a bottle of water from the bench and drank deeply, her mind racing even as her body recovered.

"So far, things have been going well. Predictable for now," she muttered to herself, her voice low and measured. "That man died as planned. But the driver… he wasn't supposed to take him to that hotel. Something changed. What?"

Her brow furrowed as she traced gently her finger along the sternum, The touch triggered a flashback, and her motivation

*******************************************************

The room was a battlefield, the air thick with the stench of smoke. The woman with lavender hair—Ophelia—stood at the center of the chaos, her expression cold and unreadable.

One of her opponents, a blonde woman with brown roots who had a dagger in hand, glared at her with a mixture of fury and betrayal.

"You filthy whore! I'll kill your traitorous ass today!" the blonde spat, her voice trembling with rage. She lunged, but Ophelia sidestepped with effortless grace.

The blonde's dagger shattered against an invisible barrier, and she was flung across the room, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. Ophelia didn't speak. She didn't need to. 

The man, Orion Heart, stepped forward and conjured his golden shield flickering into existence around the other ponytail blonde's neck just as Ophelia reached for her. The shield, composed of interlocking pentagons, shimmered on impact.

Ophelia remained unbothered as she unleashed a barrage of spells—each one more lethal than the last and targeting a single spot.

"How strong is she?" the blonde whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Get a grip. We might fall here if we don't," Orion snapped, his deep voice cutting through the tension. He raised his hands, reinforcing the barrier as Ophelia's spells chipped away at it, one after another.

The ground beneath them was scorched, the air so hot it felt like it burned their lungs with every breath. Ophelia's pyrokinetic abilities were on full display, blue flames dancing at her fingertips as she kept her opponents at bay not letting them get close as it was a 3-on-1.

She shot a spell that twisted the air into a spiral of fire, followed by another that crystallized into shards of molten glass. Each attack was designed uniquely for each one. The assassin was kept at bay with flame barriers, the mage disrupted with quick less lethal spells to prevent her from casting and the knight faced a barrage of lethal spells as Ophelia was wearier of him.

The trio fought valiantly, but Ophelia was relentless. Her lavender hair floated around her as if caught in an unseen wind, her eyes glowing an eerie blue. She began to levitate, the ground cracking beneath her as she summoned a massive flame ball—a miniature asteroid of pure fire.

"This ends now," she said, her cold voice reverberating in the area.

The opponents braced themselves, their final attacks charging in unison. But before Ophelia could release the flame ball, a hand pierced through her chest from behind. Her eyes widened, the glow fading as she looked down at the bloodied hand straight through her heart.

"Damn hypocrite," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she noticed the dark red eyes on the man.

"You don't get to say that," Orion growled, his deep voice filled with a mixture of anger and arrogance. He withdrew his hand and Ophelia's body lifelessly slid from his hand.

"WAIT! Ophelia, you bitch!" the man screamed, rushing forward. But by the time he reached the body, it was already engulfed in flames, reducing to ashes in moments.

All that remained was a faint smirk from the woman which turned to ash as well, a final taunt from the woman not letting them get what they wanted.

"FUCK!" the blonde ponytail woman shouted in anger.

***************************************************

THE PRESENT

After a quick shower, Ophelia stood in front of the mirror, her lavender hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. She toweled herself off but her hand lingered on her chest, tracing the imaginary wound that served as a constant reminder of her past failure.

Her dull purple eyes met her reflection and paused for a moment.

"I will not fail this time, Orion," she murmured, her voice resolute. "I can only rely on myself. When the time comes, everyone will be for themselves."

She dressed quickly, choosing practical clothing suited for both the lab and the field. She slipped into a fitted, long-sleeved athletic shirt made of moisture-wicking fabric, its dark gray color blending seamlessly with her cargo pants, which were a deep olive green and lined with multiple pockets for tools and supplies. Her brown sports shoes were creased from countless hours of exercise and fieldwork, their soles thick and treaded for rugged terrain. Over her outfit, she donned a crisp white lab coat, its pockets filled with either pen or paper.

Ophelia entered her lab, a small space that was equal parts cutting-edge research facility and makeshift survival bunker. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with notebooks, jars of preserved specimens, and hand-drawn diagrams of anatomy and mana pathways.

A large workbench dominated the center of the room, cluttered with microscopes, petri dishes, and stacks of handwritten notes.

In one corner stood a clear-walled cell, its ventilation system humming softly. Inside was a rabbit, but it was far from ordinary. Its muscles were unnaturally pronounced, its teeth sharp and carnivorous, and its eyes glowed faintly red. On the other side was a big computer screen with a 3D structure of the same animal without its skin, another it was split in half and other images of its cells.

She approached her notes, flipping through pages filled with observations and sketches. The journal, its pages noted with detailed drawings of muscle structures, tissue changes, and possible mana circuits. She picked up a pen and began writing.

Day 31 of Experimentation: Development of Mana Stones

After extensive observation, I've concluded that the new breeds exhibit clear signs of genetic mutation. However, despite their accelerated physical development, they have yet to produce mana stones. The presence of mana pathways suggests that the potential is there, but the stones themselves remain null. Possible explanations: 1) The subjects are too young to have fully developed mana stones. 2) They have not been subjected to sufficient environmental stress to trigger the formation of mana stones as a survival mechanism. Further testing required.

She closed the journal, her mind already racing ahead. "I bought this ranch because it was the site of the earliest rumors," she thought, her gaze drifting to the mutated rabbit. "I don't know what exactly brought me back, but I shouldn't assume I'm special. I have to improve quickly."

Ophelia stepped outside, it was afternoon. She mounted her quadbike, its rugged frame fitted with a utility box filled with tools, weapons, and supplies. Strapped to the side was her mechanical bow. The bow's limbs were reinforced with carbon fiber, and its pulley system allowed for precise, high-powered shots. A quiver of arrows was slung across her back, their tips glinting in the sunlight.

Her hunting attire was the same long-sleeved shirt she had under her lab coat, its fabric designed to regulate temperature, while the cargo pants offered ample storage for small tools and ammunition. Her brown sports shoes were scuffed but reliable.

As she rode through the dense forest, her sharp eyes caught sight of a massive trail cutting through the underbrush. She slowed the quadbike, her instincts on high alert. "Hah… would you look at that?" she muttered, dismounting to examine the trail more closely. The ground was torn up, as if something heavy had been dragged—or perhaps something had been slithering. The absence of hind leg marks suggested the latter.

She parked the bike and retrieved a Glock from the utility box, tucking it into her waistband for easy access. Moving on foot, she followed the trail with cautious steps and alerted. The air grew mustier the deeper she ventured, the scent of blood, feces, and concentrated urine assaulting her nostrils. She unfolded the handkerchief from her pocket and tied it around her face, the fabric dampened with a sanitizer-like scent to mask the stench.

The trail led her to a grim sight: a pile of bones and skin, the remains of snakes, small animals, and even the severed head of a wild dog. Feathers from birds littered the ground covered by dark dried blood and by dirt and decay of flesh. At the center of the carnage was a massive burrow, its entrance wide enough to fit a small car. A low, rumbling snore emanated from within.

Ophelia's lips curled into a faint smirk. "A new test subject and by the size of the burrow at this time before the phase it must be a mutant," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She crept closer, silently, until she could peer into the burrow.

The creature inside was a monster, its body covered in coarse, mottled fur, its limbs muscular and clawed. It was the same species as the one she had captured for her experiments, but larger and more feral.

Without hesitation, she set to work. She unspooled a length of military-grade wire thread, its sharp edges nearly invisible. She wove it around the burrow's entrance and through the surrounding trees, creating a web of traps designed to slow and injure the creature. Once the traps were set, she nocked an arrow and took aim.

The arrow grazed the monster's side, drawing a thin line of blood. The creature awoke with a deafening screech, its eyes blazing with fury as it charged out of the burrow. It slammed into the wire threads, the sharp edges cutting into its flesh. Though the threads broke under its weight, they left deep gashes, slowing the beast and disorienting it.

Ophelia fired two more arrows in quick succession, each one finding its mark in the creature's eyes. "First, sight," she said coolly, her voice steady despite the adrenaline.

Next, she threw a paper spray can near the monster and shot it with an arrow, releasing a cloud of noxious gas. "Second, smell," she murmured, watching as the creature thrashed in confusion.

Finally, she drew her Glock and fired a single shot, the sound echoing through the forest. "Lastly, sound," she said, her tone almost clinical.

But the monster wasn't done yet. With a guttural roar, it unleashed a blast of wind from its mouth, the force radiating outward in a four-meter radius. Ophelia, standing just three meters away, was thrown back by the shockwave, her body slamming into a tree. She grunted in pain but quickly recovered, her eyes narrowing with determination.

"So it was stress," she said, a faint smile playing on her lips. She fired the remaining arrows into the creature's legs, immobilizing it, before finishing it off with three precise shots to the head. She found out how to induce mana stone or mana development because she deduced that animals usually attack with their affinities first, but this one only attacked after being on the brink of death so the answer could be stress. As the monster fell, Ophelia turned her attention to the burrow.

But before she could celebrate, something darted past her, a smaller monster, caught in the wire threads she had set earlier.

"This one's not as big… perhaps a female," she mused, her mind already calculating the implications. "So, maybe there's more inside."

She approached cautiously, her Glock at the ready. Inside, she found a nest with four pups and, to her surprise, a vine with purple leaves exuding a faint, familiar aura. 

"Mana," she whispered, her voice filled with awe and triumph. The vine was a rare find, a natural mana-infused plant that could revolutionize her experiments and growth.