Victory Tastes Like Ash

"The sword was no ordinary blade. It was forged in an age long before cities touched the sky a weapon bound to her soul. It did not rest in a sheath. It rested within her. Hidden until the moment she needed it."

The silver sword appeared in her hand heavy to the world, weightless to her.

The enemies had no time to scream.

She fought like a storm.

Quick. Merciless. Inhuman.

Steel clashed with steel, but it was over before it began.

Bullets ricocheted off her armor like raindrops.

Blades shattered against her sword.

Men fell one by one until the battlefield fell silent.

No cheers. No cries of victory.

Just the sound of her own breathing, steady but… labored.

Hunterrina stood alone.

Her gleaming eyes dimmed.

Her sword dripped red onto the ground.

The warriors who fought with her those who survived looked on from a distance.

Fear in their eyes. Awe, maybe. But more than anything… fear.

She knew that look.

She'd seen it a thousand times throughout the centuries.

They didn't look at Rina anymore.

They looked at something else something more than they were.

Her chest tightened.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She fought to protect them, to save lives

But now… she was a monster to them. Again.

Her throat tightened.

Her fingers trembled on the hilt of her sword.

She couldn't stay. Not like this.

Silently, she turned her back on them.

The suit shone, molding itself to her figure as her boots left the ground.

She rose into the air. Higher. Away.

The world below her blurred the battlefield, the men, the blood.

She soared… but her heart fell. 

Victory. But it tasted like ashes in her mouth. 

As always.