CHAPTER 7 : GODDESS OF DEATH
535 Words
Three years had passed since the day Cera first stepped into the den of monsters.
Now, at sixteen, she stood among the last of them — no longer the trembling child who once bled in a warehouse, but the cold flame that refused to die out.
Her training had shaped her into something beyond human.
She could fight with guns, knives, bare hands — whatever death demanded.
But it was her aim that became legend.
They said even a flying eagle never escaped her bullet.
Some called it luck.
Marquis called it “a gift from hell.”
For years, she had been molded, broken, rebuilt — until mercy meant nothing, and hesitation was death.
Now, she was the youngest killer the underworld had ever seen — and the first girl ready to claim the title of Side Hand, the most trusted weapon of Marquis himself.
But before the crown of blood could rest on her head, one final trial awaited.
The End Fight.
Every survivor from every allied and rival gang was gathered in the pit — the place they called The Arena of Graves.
The rule was simple:
“Kill or be forgotten.”
Before the fight, the trainees were put through hell.
Tortured for endurance, starved for days, sent as mock hostages to rival groups just to test how far they’d go before breaking.
Those who couldn’t bear it, died nameless.
Those who survived, became legends.
And now, it was time.
The crowd roared as Cera stepped into the center of the arena — dressed in black, her twin guns strapped to her thighs, and the faint scar on her belly still marking the day she first fought back.
Her white hair ribbon fluttered with the desert wind, the same one she had once tied around her wrist as a child.
On the opposite side stood the top fighters from other dens — all older, stronger, and bloodthirsty.
But none of them had eyes like hers — calm, cold, endless.
The eyes of someone who had already seen death and learned to walk beside it.
“Ready?” Marquis’ voice thundered from the high platform above, his gaze proud yet merciless.
The bell rang.
The ground shook.
Gunfire, steel, screams — chaos unfolded like a storm.
Cera moved through it like a shadow — every step precise, every shot a death sentence.
Her bullets sang. Her blades danced.
Blood splattered across the sand like rain.
One by one, they fell.
No one could touch her.
And then — silence.
Only Cera remained, standing tall under the crimson sky.
Her eyes met Marquis’, and for the first time, a small smirk curved her lips.
He rose from his chair and said the words that changed everything:
“Rise, Cera. From this day… the world will know you as the Goddess of Death.”
The audience erupted in awe and fear.
The youngest, the smallest, the girl they once pitied — now ruled them all.
Cera looked up at the sky, the sun setting behind her.
For a fleeting second, she thought of William — of the world she once wanted to protect.
But that world was gone.
All that remained… was her.
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- Writer
