Inherit The Battle

Yet now, as the darkness edged in, it was that very helplessness that bubbled into a poison of self-hatred.

Bitter resentment surged, directed at herself—as if each constricting breath was a reminder of every time fate had chosen someone else over her.

At the forefront of those memories stood Jia, the one who could charm even the fiercest of adversaries, the one who always seemed to land on her feet while Judy stumbled in the shadows. “Why do they always choose her?” she thought bitterly, the desperation anchoring itself deeper in her chest.

And yet, for all her thoughts raging within her, the most piercing pain was the absence of the small dagger—a simple piece of metal that could have turned the tide of this fight. If she had only saved a few coins, if she had only been quicker, more resourceful… each ‘if’ became a knife of its own, cutting deeper into her resolve. With every ounce of strength dwindling, she cursed the limitations that bound her, each realization grounding her in despair.

Judy’s world blurred, edges softening as despair curled around her. The man’s grip was oppressive, but what clawed at her was the dark memory of her arrival at the pavilion—the brink of defeat.

Fear had danced alongside hope that day. The clamor of voices was a tide—intimidating, mocking.

She remember her quaking hands, the weight of expectations, or rather, the burden of insignificance.

Yet, with each duel she faced, something ignited inside her.

Cheers cascaded like water, washing away shame, replacing it with a fierce determination.

Every victory, however small, was a sliver of light, illuminating her path.

She clenched her fists, recalling that she was forged in the flame of struggle.

The crowd’s roars, echoing in her ears, reignited the fire within.

Her past victories, tangible in the marrow of her spirit, whispered, “Fight.”

Heat crawled through Judy’s body. Making her groan in satisfaction at the charge of oxygen surging through her limbs.

The man strangling her felt it too, his eyes widening in horror as runes glowed like embers along her arms, neck, and forehead—an ethereal embrace of dark energy enveloping her.