A lady—168cm tall, her posture effortless yet alert. Her scarlet red hair flowed down in twin ponytails that framed her sharp, angular face. Her ears were long and pointed, revealing her Elven blood, and her amber eyes glowed with an eerie calm, as though she saw far more than what was in front of her. Her beauty was surreal—almost unnerving—like a painting that watched you back.

  Her cloak fluttered slightly in the breeze, revealing a sleek, obsidian bodysuit beneath, molded perfectly to her graceful form. Her bust curved at 93cm, prominent but balanced by her toned physique. Supported casually on her shoulder with one gloved hand was a massive red crossbow, almost as tall as she was, it's intricate limbs pulsed with runes.

  The moment she spotted the trio, she casually turned to head back inside.

  The trio tilted their head in unison, confused at her expression.

  But Ladrel quickly grabbed her collar, tugging her back with a sheepish grin as her heels scraped across the ground.

  "I don't wanna," the lady grumbled, half-dragged.

  "I'll get you whatever you want," Ladrel promised quickly.

  The woman stopped resisting, her expression lighting up like a child offered candy. "Okay."

  Snap

  That single phrase had set something off.

  *I'll get you whatever you want.*

  Damon’s eyes darkened, and the earth beneath him cracked and trembled as if reacting to the weight of his fury.

  "You rob from the weak," he growled, his voice like thunder beneath a storm. "Drape yourselves in gold while the ones you steal from starve in silence. They die in shadows—unseen, uncared for. Left to rot in the streets like trash."

  The ground split further, angry veins of power crawling outward like lightning. The very air pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

  "And you dare to smile," he continued, stepping forward. "Like you’re saints. Like you’re doing them a favor. You turn their suffering into coin and drink to it. That’s not ignorance. That’s cruelty."

  Ladrel paled slightly, whispering under his breath, “This is bad… Master doesn’t like it when were noisy.”

  Damon’s teeth clenched so hard his jaw popped. A low growl rumbled in his throat, his voice colder than ice.

  Elrond shrugged carelessly. “I mean, that’s the whole point of it…”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  In a flash, Damon closed the distance between them. The ground cracked beneath his feet.

  “Shut the hell up,” Damon snarled.

  His fist slammed into Elrond’s gut with bone-crushing force, the air shattering around it as blue aura surged from his knuckles like a roaring flame.

  Elrond rocketed across the cave like a launched missile, his body crashing against the far wall. He slumped to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.

  The woman’s eyes lit up. She clapped her hands like an excited child. “Can I, can I, can I, please!”

  Ladrel chuckled quietly, as if enjoying the absurd contrast.

  Mocking, even.

  “Careful now, Ivy," Ladrel warned, settling down cross-legged with Tharn standing behind him like a mighty guardian.

  Zephyr appeared instantly in front of Damon, calm as ever, and chopped him on the head—hard.

  Damon’s eyes snapped back to focus.

  "You moron. You planning to bring this whole cave down?" Zephyr scolded.

  Gwen’s eyes widened. Unbelievable, she thought. Such pressure… this cave couldn't handle it. That didn’t feel mortal at all—who the hell is this guy?

  Her mind raced.

  Now that I think about it… I don’t actually know him. I’ve seen him crush things without touching them, fight with unseen force, and he still packs that kind of physical strength?

  She clenched her fist. Sure, if he hadn’t held back that punch, I’d still have overpowered him... barely. But that’s all I’ve got going for me right now.

  Her thoughts flashed back to ten years ago...

  ---

  “You’re a healer, my dear,” an old man told her.

  “Says who?” she snapped.

  “You’re a Caladrius. You’ve got healing attributes. That makes you a healer.” He laughed in that weird way of his.

  “I don’t bend to fate, or rules, or whatever crap the world spits out!” Gwen barked.

  "Hyaaaah!" The old man bonked her on the head with his staff. “I'm still your grandpa, you pesky little runt.”

  ---

  Day after day, she pestered him.

  From behind the corridor, he’d watch as she tried to channel her power. She aimed at a plant to destroy it, but instead... its leaves bloomed.

  One day, he called her over. Standing tall, he dropped the staff he used to walk. His old bones cracked—but underneath, he was still a mountain of muscle.

  In a flash, he tapped all her joints. Gwen dropped to the floor, unable to move.

  “What the hell, old man—why can’t I move?!”

  “Takes a couple minutes to break out of that,” he said, already walking away. “Good luck.”

  Snap.

  She popped her shoulder. Already free.

  "What was that?" she muttered. "Felt like bugs crawling over me..."

  The old man froze. Coughing lightly, he turned. “Didn’t you say you didn’t want to be a healer?”

  “Not necessarily,” Gwen shrugged. “I don’t mind healing people… I just hate it.”

  He frowned. Make up your damn mind, he thought.

  “I wanna fight. Be in the field. Beat people up like it’s nothing.” She lit up with joy.

  The oldman slapped her across the face immediately leaving no room for another word. “Why do I even bother...” he muttered. “Come back when you’re ready”

  Gwen pouted and stormed out of the house. Kicking stones as she muttered to herself along the way. Her eyes then fell upon a group of boys—around her age—cornering a terrified girl. Their intentions were clear and sickening.

  Her voice shot out before she could stop it. "Hey!"

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  But it came out shaky. She was scared. There were four of them, and she knew she couldn't do anything.

  "Why do I even bother." She whispered to herself about to run ahead—until she saw the girl's eyes. Teary, desperate, silently pleading.

  "Help me," the girl mouthed.

  Gwen didn’t think. She charged forward and slammed a kick into the face of the closest boy, knocking him flat. Blood splattered from his mouth as he gasped.

  "Who the hell is this chick?!" he spat.

  Pointing at them with trembling fingers, Gwen forced her voice to rise, masking her fear.

  "What do you think you're doing?! You're six years old!"

  The boy scowled. "I'm eight, you moron."

  Gwen blinked. "Oh. Sorry. That's my age."

  The boy gritted his teeth, flames erupted around his fist as he threw a punch straight into her face. Her head snapped to the side—but her eyes lit up with fury. She didn’t fall. Instead, she pushed back, her head grinding against his flaming fist.

  The boy’s expression twisted in fear. "What kind of monster...?"

  He leapt backward and launched a fireball at her. Gwen instinctively shielded the girl behind her, bracing for the impact.

  But when she opened her eyes, a green forcefield shimmered around them both. She looked at her hands in surprise.

  Then smirked.

  "You're dead."

  The boy tried to run, but she caught him by the collar and slammed him to the ground. Her fists pounded his face without mercy. His friends flinched, ready to jump in—until Gwen shot them a single glare. It stopped them cold.

  She helped the girl to her feet, her healing aura already mending the girl's injuries. By the time she walked her home, the boy lay half-conscious in the dirt.

  At the girl’s door, Gwen smiled gently. "I'm Gwen, by the way."

  She blushed a little, suddenly shy.

  The girl smiled back. "I'm Stacy. Nice to meet you."

  Gwen bolted home, calling out for the old man.

  He sat with his back turned when she entered. She bowed her head.

  "I promise... I’ll use what you trained me for—to protect."

  The old man smiled and turned around.

  "...And to beat people up," Gwen muttered under her breath, glancing away sheepishly.

  He grabbed her collar. "You little runt."

  From that day on, the old man trained her relentlessly—day after day, pushing her to her limits.

  Until, one day, Gwen developed a technique of her own.

  She began rapidly bursting her own cells and healing them almost instantly.

  The old man caught her mid-practice and shouted, "What the heck do you think you're doing?!" But then he paused—he could sense it. Her energy wasn’t fading; it was cycling. Being dissipated and renewed at a nearly impossible rate.

  She grinned.

  "I learnt that when the body destroys and recreate it's cells naturally, and when it does it becomes stronger, so I figured out that, if that's the case, I'll just do it a billion times over and faster."

  The old man raised a brow, thinking, Huh. She actually studies—when it’s something she’s interested in.

  Then he smiled, "You've already been doing that out of reflex a long time ago, little one." He thought to himself.

  Then, just as he looked her way again, Gwen’s eyes rolled back and she collapsed.

  The old man moved instantly, catching her before she hit the ground. He sighed deeply.

  "Man... I’m too old for this."

  Gwen stirred. With a weak, nervous chuckle, her head ringing back to the presnet, she smacked her cheeks with her palms.

  "Healer, huh?" she murmured with a grin.

  "I’ll show you what this healer can really do... you stupid old man."

  Gwen steadied herself with a slow exhale, clearing her mind.

  Then—her eyes snapped open, instincts kicking in just as a crimson arrow cut through the air toward her.

  She caught it mid-flight without blinking.

  From a distance, Ivy’s grin curled with amusement, "Eh..."

  The arrow in Gwen’s hand began to hum—subtle, eerie. It pulsed once… then burst with a silent whistle.

  Gwen flinched, her head shifting slightly at the sudden shift.

  From the detonation, a swarm of identical arrows shot outward, closing in from every direction.

  Every single one found its mark, piercing her body.

  “Homing, huh,” Gwen muttered, a smirk playing on her lips.

  Her body tensed. With a sharp flex, the arrows lodged in her body splintered and cracked—snapping clean in half from sheer muscle pressure.

  "Ooooh," Ivy's eyes lit up with delight.

  She slid the crossbow from her shoulder and gripped it with both hands. An arrow formed out of nothing and loaded itself—then she fired it straight into the sky.

  The recoil blasted Ivy back a step.

  Moments later, the sky darkened.

  It rained arrows—each glistening, hissing, burning.

  A massive forcefield bloomed up, covering all three of them.

  But something was wrong.

  The arrows didn’t bounce off. They shimmered… then started burning through the barrier like acid.

  Damon’s eyes narrowed. "It's pure essence."

  ---

  Essence—known to some as Flux, mana, Aether, Ki, wake, Chakra, quantum and thousand more—is the origin of all energy systems.

  The primordial life force.

  It is not just power. It is the first breath of creation—the source-code of EXISTENCE.

  The gods, realms, laws of nature, even time... were born from Essence.

  Every thing that exists, living or nonliving thing—every soul, shadow, or spark—carries a unique Essence signature.

  Unlike others, which follow systems and rules.Essence is limitless, pure, and boundless.

  Full mastery over Essence allows one to defy cosmic law. With it, a pebble can become a cannon. A whisper can become a storm. A mortal... can become a god.

  “Essence, huh?” Gwen tilted her head. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of that. They say it’s the source of existence or whatever.” She shrugged.

  Damon and Zephyr turned slowly toward her, stunned.

  “What…?” they both breathed.

  Gwen pointed accusingly. “Hey! I learn stuff too, you know!”

  She crossed her arms. “Our people call it Lumora. But turns out, all those names—Ki, Chakra, Haki, Rukh, mana, whatever—they’re just broken echoes of the same breath. Essence doesn’t care what name you give it. It’s the beginning. The override.”

  “We’ve lived side-by-side for over three millennia? So we’ve all kind of… transcended, each race unknowingly nurturing the other. About a milennia ago. We all started using essence, although not everyone’s fully evolved, some still stick to what they believed before our worlds collided.”

  Damon and Zephyr inched even further away from her.

  “How is she still talking?” they whispered, horrified.

  Gwen's fist cleched, "I swear, I'm gonna knock you guys light ut, if you take ONE more step away from me."

  "How's it that you know all these, yet you didn't know what flux was?." Zephyr asked

  "I've never heard of flux before that's why, you moron." Gwen answered

  “Are you guys done yet?” Ivy called lazily. “I’m bored.” She traced idle scribbles in the dirt with her finger.

  They turned toward her, confused.

  Damon's forcefield shimmered down.

  Ivy’s eyes lit up. “If you are…” She raised her massive crossbow and pointed it at them, “I want you three to die.”

  She fired.

  But instead of an arrow, a spiraling whirlwind burst forth, tearing toward them like a living storm. Trees, stones, and air bent to its path as it shredded everything in its way.

  Zephyr teleported forward in a blink, swinging his arm upward. A gust of slicing wind answered his motion, splitting the cyclone clean in half.

  “Noooo,” Ivy groaned dramatically. Her voice echoed faint, almost mocking. “You destroyed my biggest cyclone…”

  Gwen, boiling, charged straight at her. Ivy’s eyes locked on her and hurled her crossbow into the air.

  Gwen threw a punch, wind spiraling around her fist from sheer force. Ivy's eyes widened. “Whoa—!”

  She raised her arms in time, bracing hard as Gwen’s strike slammed against them. The impact blasted her backward, feet grinding through dirt.

  Relentless, Gwen surged forward. A high kick arced from the side—met with a swift guard as Ivy’s forearm caught the brunt of it.

  Persistent, Gwen shot another punch rocketing toward Ivy’s gut—this time, Ivy snatched Gwen’s wrist mid-swing, locking it in place with a firm grip. She yanked Gwen forward countering with a jab. Gwen tilted her head, narrowly dodging it.

  A wicked grin lit up Gwen’s face. She slammed an uppercut right into Ivy’s chin, sending her airborne. Snatching her ankle mid-flight, Gwen spun around and hurled her across the battlefield.

  Ivy skidded across the ground, hands and feet digging into the earth, carving a messy trail of debris as she slowed.

  Then—momentum reversed—she launched herself forward like a bullet.

  Gwen was already in motion. As their gazes clashed up close, Ivy kicked back mid-dash and snatched her falling crossbow out of the air.

  "Bam" she smiked, her voice faint and amusing.

  Without hesitation, she fired—point blank range.

  The arrow whistled straight for Gwen’s head.

  But Gwen twisted mid-motion, cleanly dodging the deadly shot as it grazed her hair.

  She launched upward, spinning midair, and slammed a brutal kick into Ivy’s skull. Ivy dropped low, her crossbow leaving her grip.

  Gwen spun again, launching a quick one-two kick to her ribs.

  Ivy deflected the blows, arms tightening under pressure.

  Then—twisting, reloading her momentum—Gwen drove a hammering punch from the opposite side straight into Ivy’s jaw.

  The hit sent Ivy crashing through a wall with a thunderous crack.

  "Who's next" Gwen smiled.

  "Huh?" a voice echoed from beneath the rubble. "That was really cool!" Ivy shouted, bursting out, dust covering her body, eyes sparkling with amusement.

  "Fight me! Fight me! I’m not done yet!" she waved excitedly.

  Gwen glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Ivy.

  Ivy immediately grabbed her crossbow. A strange pulse radiated from it as she fired directly at Gwen.

  Gwen stood unfazed, reaching out to catch the bolt mid-flight. But just before contact, it split into multiple smaller arrows. They homed in on her wrist—not to pierce, but to morph into a handcuff, chains shooting from underneath and anchoring her arm to the ground.

  She braced herself—but nothing happened. Confused, she raised her gaze—just in time to see Ivy already mid-spin in the air.

  Ivy's leg swung toward Gwen's face.

  Gwen raised her arm to block—but it was the cuffed one. The chain yanked it down, and Gwen’s eyes widened.

  The kick landed clean.

  She was launched into the air—only to be yanked back down by the chained wrist. Ivy met her mid-fall, driving a knee into her chin, snapping her head back.

  As Gwen reeled, Ivy followed up—fist to the gut, another to the side of the face. She pulled back to land a final blow to the gut, but Gwen caught her fist mid-swing.

  With a sharp yank, Gwen pulled Ivy close—then slammed her forehead into Ivy’s.

  Ivy’s eyes rolled as she staggered, nearly losing consciousness.

  But Gwen wasn’t done.

  Crackling with force, Gwen’s fist whipped through the air, slamming into Ivy’s gut. Shockwaves rippled outward.

  Ivy was sent flying.

  But the chain on Gwen’s wrist yanked her back in return—slamming her into a wall.

  “The chains pulled my punch. It didn’t land clean,” Gwen thought, sitting on the floor, breathing heavy.

  She smirked. "I know you're not done yet, moron."

  Standing up, she reached for the cuff with her free hand. Then stopped. Instead, she grabbed the chain—and snapped it in one motion.

  Ivy struggled to rise. Blood dripped down her face, but a wild, playful grin settled there. She extended her arm, and her crossbow flew into her hand as if pulled by a vacuum.

  Gwen took a single step forward.

  And just then—Damon and Zephyr appeared at her side.

  "I hate to cut in the fun" Zephyr said calmly, "But we need to end this, Fast."