The End Before The Beginning

A lone woman stood amidst the ruins, her figure a solitary pillar of defiance against a shattered world. The ground beneath her was carpeted with corpses—human and inhuman alike.

Twisted beasts and grotesque creatures littered the battlefield, their bodies blending into the devastated landscape. The stench of blood and decay permeated the air, as though Earth itself was weeping.

Her black hair fluttered under the chill breeze that swept through the desolate wasteland. Her red eyes, piercing and fierce, took in the destruction that surrounded her.

Blood smeared her pale face, dripping from the corners of her lips where she had bitten down in pain. Her silver robes were stained with crimson, their once-shining fabric torn and shredded.

Her skin was marred by numerous wounds, deep gashes and stab marks that crisscrossed her body. The most grievous of them all was the dagger lodged just beneath her heart, its jagged edges digging into her flesh, glinting wickedly under the fading light.

She did not flinch as she gripped the hilt and pulled. The blade came free with a sickening squelch, tearing at her insides as it slid out. Fresh blood streamed down her front, but she paid no heed to the pain. There was no time for weakness.

Her body trembled, not from fear or exhaustion, but from rage. Fury burned in her gaze, and her cracked lips parted as she exhaled a shuddering breath.

Her gaze remained fixed on a singular point in the distance: a path lined with devastation, yet notably devoid of the countless corpses that littered the rest of the battlefield.

At the end of that path lay a solitary body—severed, broken, and still. It was the form of a beast that had once towered over her, a monstrous amalgamation of fur and flesh, with black and red fur matted in blood. This was one of the Four Cardinal Monarchs, beings of near-unstoppable power who had ravaged Earth and its people. Now, its life had been ended by her hand.

But her victory was bitter. Her chest tightened with a different kind of pain as she glanced toward another body—human this time, lying several paces away. The woman who had betrayed her. The same woman who had wormed her way into Laura's trust, then sunk a poisoned blade into her side at the moment of her greatest triumph.

Laura's hand tightened around the blood-soaked dagger she had just removed, her knuckles turning white. "You think this is enough to stop me?" she spat, her voice hoarse and raw.

She tilted her head back, glaring at the sky as if daring the heavens themselves to defy her. "Come out!" she roared, the sound echoing across the desolation. "Show yourselves!"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"Hehehe."

Then, mocking laughter filled the air as three figures emerged from the shadows, each appearing from a different direction.

The first was a hulking figure, its frame a grotesque mix of bear and human. Dark fur covered its body, matted with the gore of countless battles. Its mouth curled into a cruel grin, exposing sharp fangs that glistened with fresh blood.

The second figure skittered forward, insectoid in nature. Its chitinous exoskeleton gleamed like polished onyx, while multifaceted eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light. Its voice buzzed with sadistic amusement as it spoke, each word a stab of mockery. "Hahaha... The wounded lion roars on its deathbed."

The third figure, the most human-looking of the three, sat perched atop a massive mole-like creature. It lounged lazily, as though the chaos around it were nothing more than a spectacle for its own amusement. Its pale skin and dark hair made it almost pass for human—almost, except for the eyes. Those cold, predatory eyes.

These were the remaining three Cardinal Monarchs. They taunted her with words in the language she had once known so well, voices dripping with malice. "Do you think you can take on all three of us in that condition?"

"Dying now would be a better option." The insectoid being chuckled.

"But we can't allow that. You killed one of us, after all." The one atop the mole shook its head.

But their mockery only fueled her rage further. The light in her eyes burned brighter, fueled by her defiance.

Laura did not wait for them to make the first move. A panel appeared before her and from it she drew an amethyst sword that seemed to devour light itself. She lunged forward, channeling every last ounce of strength into the battle.

Boooom~

The explosion from the clash rocked the earth for dozens of miles. She fought with ferocity, knowing full well that her life was slipping away with every passing second. Her wounds bled freely, her vision blurred at the edges, but she refused to fall.

Each strike she delivered sent shockwaves through the ruined battlefield, and each time a Monarch's blow connected, the earth trembled beneath her feet.

Minutes felt like hours as the brutal conflict raged on. Despite her condition, she managed to outmaneuver the most human-like of the Monarchs, unleashing a devastating spell that left the creature gasping for breath as her pitch black sword tore through its chest. With one final, desperate thrust, she drove her sword through its heart, silencing its laughter forever.

But her victory was short-lived. She barely had a moment to breathe before a sharp, searing pain exploded in her chest.

Puck!

Laura looked down to see a set of jagged, insectoid claws protruding from her body, stained with her blood. The insect Monarch had moved too fast for her to react, and now it tore her heart from her chest with a sickening crunch.

Her strength faded rapidly, and she sank to her knees. Darkness crept into the corners of her vision. She could feel the world slipping away, her life extinguishing like a flickering candle. Yet, even as the darkness closed in, Laura's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile.

She had killed two of them. It wasn't the victory she had hoped for, but it was enough. It had to be.

She whispered a silent farewell to the world she had fought so hard to protect, her body collapsing onto the blood-soaked ground.

"Hehehe..." The last thing she heard was the fading laughter of the remaining Monarchs, echoing like a cruel farewell.