Petra ignored the others and stepped forward.
The sand wyrm stayed still for a while, as if it was checking the surrounding. Then, without warning, it surged toward her, sand exploding beneath its weight.
Petra did not flinch.
She tightened her grip on the scythe, her fingers steady, almost gentle. Her gaze softened as she looked at the dark blade, then hardened as she faced the charging mass.
"I won't let anyone hurt you again," she whispered. "Sister."
The world tilted.
***
"Petra. Ashia."
Their mother's voice was warm and steady.
"Protect each other, okay? Mom has a mission."
The memory unfolded like a painted scene.
Niesha knelt in front of them, clad in black armor that still gleamed despite the dust. A sword rested at her waist. She patted both girls on the head and smiled.
Six-year-old Petra nodded quickly.
"Yes, Mom. I'll be Ashia's shield. I promise I'll keep her out of trouble while you're gone."
Ashia, identical in face but not in spirit, puffed out her chest.
"Hey, that's my line, sis." She kicked the air wildly. "If anyone bullies Petra, I'll kick their ass!"
Niesha sighed and lightly spanked Ashia's head.
"You little troublemaker. Listen to Reverend Adavus while I'm gone, or I'll give you both a real spanking."
Petra squeaked and instinctively covered her backside.
Ashia laughed and bolted away.
"If you can catch me!"
Niesha chased her for a few steps, laughing, while Petra watched from the corner, smiling shyly.
Then a voice echoed from the barracks entrance.
"It's time, Niesha. The troops are ready."
Niesha stopped and turned back.
"Just a second, Reverend Adavus."
She opened her arms.
"Both of you. Come give Mom a hug before I go."
Petra ran in immediately.
Ashia hesitated, squinting.
"You won't spank me, right?"
"No," Niesha said smoothly.
Ashia stepped forward—and yelped when she got a light smack anyway.
"Hey! You lied!"
Niesha laughed, hugging them both tightly.
Petra pulled back slightly and asked, voice small,
"Mom… are you going to find Father too? You said he's on a mission. Are you bringing him home?"
Niesha froze.
She turned her face away just long enough for a tear to fall. She wiped it quickly and forced a smile.
"Yes, Petra. Once this mission is over, I'll bring your father back."
Petra beamed and waved enthusiastically as her mother turned to leave.
Ashia ran after her and hugged her leg.
"Mom, don't go."
Niesha gently pulled her free.
"I'm coming back. Promise."
Ashia cried harder.
"Liar. You said that when we asked about Father."
Niesha knelt again, wiped Ashia's tears, and said softly,
"This time, I'll bring him back with me."
She stood up and walked away.
She never looked back.
That night, the sisters slept in the same bed.
Petra whispered,
"Do you think Mom and Dad will come back tomorrow?"
Ashia stared at the ceiling.
"Maybe."
Tomorrow never answered.
Weeks passed. Then months. Then years.
***
In a blink, they were thirteen.
Petra and Ashia stood at the entrance of a cave with several other children. Reverend Adavus stood tall before them, his voice firm.
"Today is your final test. Cross the mountain through this cave. No weapons. No supplies. Survive for three days. If you succeed, you will become full subjugators of Malvury Fortress and receive a Name."
A boy raised his hand.
"But Reverend, we already have names."
Adavus shook his head.
"Those names hold no power. The Name I speak of is given by Gods. It carries not just your identity but also power."
He looked around. "Show me the fruit of your training. Bring the pride of Malvury."
Everyone shouted,
"Yes, Reverend!"
"Go."
They ran.
Ashia grabbed Petra's hand, dragging her along.
The first day was quiet—too quiet.
Then screams echoed through the cave.
"Wolves! Run!"
Chaos erupted.
Ashia shoved Petra behind her, swinging wildly with a wooden stick.
"Stay back!"
Petra shook her head, gripping her own stick.
"I won't be a burden!"
They fought side by side, clumsy but determined.
Ashia was busy with one wolf when another lunged from behind her.
Petra saw it.
She stepped in, swung with all her strength, and smashed the wolf into the cave wall.
"Are you okay, Ashia?" she asked.
"I'm fi—"
Ashia's eyes widened.
Another wolf leaped, sinking its teeth into Petra's neck.
"PETRA!"
Ashia screamed and kicked the wolf away, beating it again and again until it stopped moving.
She dropped to her knees and caught Petra, pressing her hands against the wound.
"No… no, no, no…"
Petra smiled weakly.
"I'm happy… you're fine."
"Stop talking!" Ashia cried. "I don't need your help!"
Tears blurred her vision.
"Don't cry," Petra whispered. "Don't be sad."
"Then don't die," Ashia begged.
Petra's voice faded.
"Promise me… you survive."
Ashia shook her head violently.
"No. We will. Together."
Petra didn't answer.
Her hand slipped from Ashia's grasp.
Ashia screamed.
The cave trembled.
A bell rang inside her head.
A panel appeared.
************************************************
Page 1/2
Name: Petra Falx
Race: Human
Age: 13
Class: Warrior
Level: 1
Party: None
Coalition: None
Description: The Lone Wolf.
Status:
Health: 300 / 300
Mana: 100 / 100
Stamina: 150 / 200
Attributes(Free Points: 0)
Strength: 10
Agility: 8
Endurance: 10
Intelligence: 8
Dexterity: 8
Awareness: 7
************************************************
Next Page>>
Ashia stared at it, then at her sister.
"You and I," she whispered, "will be together. Forever."
Another panel slid into her vision, cold and merciless.
"Do you wish to activate Unique Skill: Hand in Hand?"
Yes / No
Petra did not hesitate.
Her finger moved before her fear could catch up.
Yes.
The world lurched.
A sharp ringing filled her ears, like a bell struck inside her skull, and light poured out from her chest in violent waves.
Ashia gasped as her sister's body burned, the flames didn't burn but warmed her.
Petra's limbs dissolved into shadow, bones stretching and folding as if they were never meant to stay human.
Ashia's laughter echoed faintly, warm and wild.
I'm here, it seemed to say. Don't let go.
Petra's body collapsed inward, swallowed by darkness, and in its place a black scythe emerged—its blade curved like a crescent moon, its surface pulsing softly, as if it were breathing.
The girl pick the massive scythe with care, and stood up.
She was Ashia.
No—she was Petra now.
Her eyes were calm, too calm, as she stepped forward into the chaos.
She charged into the darkness without hesitation.
Wolves rushed her from every direction, their growls echoing through the cave, but she was faster. The scythe carved through fur and bone, its blade humming softly with every swing. Blood splashed against the stone walls, dark and sticky, mixing with sand and shattered rock.
Then the screaming started.
Not beasts—people.
Participants who once mocked them, calling them orphan and deadweight.
Those who tripped Petra on purpose.
Those who laughed when Ashia fought back.
They tried to run.
They tried to beg.
"Wait—!"
"We're sorry—!"
"It wasn't me—!"
The scythe did not stop.
Petra's face remained calm, almost gentle, as if she were doing a chore long overdue. Yet her eyes burned, bright and furious, reflecting Ashia's fire beneath the surface.
"Don't touch her," she whispered once, to no one in particular.
The cave became a slaughterhouse.
An hour passed.
Then there was nothing left.
Silence swallowed the cave, thick and heavy, broken only by the slow drip of water from the ceiling. Petra stood alone among the corpses, her breath shallow, her hands slick with blood that wasn't entirely hers.
She looked around.
Bodies lay everywhere—wolves, broken children, shattered dreams. The smell was overwhelming, metallic and rotten. Petra's lips curved upward into a small, strange smile.
"You won't be lonely anymore," she murmured.
Her knees buckled.
The scythe slipped from her grasp, clattering softly against the stone as she collapsed face-first into the bloodied sand.
***
Three days later, no one had returned.
Reverend Adavus entered the cave with several subjugators, their torches flickering as the smell hit them like a wall.
"What the hell happened here?" one of them muttered, gagging as he covered his mouth.
"Mind your words, young man," the Reverend snapped, though his own face had gone pale. "Where is the scout we sent to oversee the trial?"
Another subjugator knelt, checking a body before shaking his head.
"He's dead too, Reverend. I… I think no one survived."
Adavus said nothing. His eyes scanned the cave slowly, stopping at the far corner.
"There," he said quietly.
They approached and found a girl sitting against the stone wall, hugging a black scythe tightly to her chest, as if afraid it might disappear. Her clothes were torn, her skin pale, but she was breathing.
"Ashia?" the Reverend asked.
The girl flinched violently.
Her eyes darted up in panic, then softened when she recognized him. Tears welled up and spilled freely.
"Ashia…" she whispered, shaking her head. "Ashia is dead, Reverend."
Her voice broke.
"Only Petra is left."
***
The memory shattered.
Petra stepped forward as the sand creature lunged again.
Her eyes burned, her grip firm.
"I kept my promise," she murmured.
And she swung.