A woman suddenly arrives at a temple now in ruins, similar to the Greek temples that have deteriorated to this day. Her clothes were shredded to rags, and the filth was like a second skin to her. Blood and soot dripped from her sword. Sword cuts ran from head to toe. Panting and barely conscious, an ordinary human being wouldn't be able to withstand such wounds; which isn't the case.
A breeze hit her beautiful face with its heart-shaped jaw, and her straight black hair swayed. She clenched the hand holding the hilt of her sword with unimaginable strength, and even wounded, her will gave her the strength not to give in. Her pitiful state was no excuse not to move forward.
"Shit. I finally made it to this damned place. I hope Mjoffrain's gourd is here. I'd hate for my journey here to have been a complete waste of time," she said with a scowl and a menacing tone.
With a serious expression, a desire to be right, and an unwavering will, she walks toward the entrance to Mjoffrain's temple. Her steps are slow, the reason is clear, and her breathlessness only demonstrates her need for rest.
Upon entering, she finds herself in a dark corridor; and with a certain sense of space, anyone would assume that, besides being narrow, it would be obvious that the corridor was a death trap. Walking down the corridor, a bright light illuminates the end of the tunnel-like corridor, indicating that the real trap was not in a corridor, but rather inside an unknown temple, with unknown threats.
Entering the room, she surprisingly finds something unusual. A sarcophagus under the floor in front of her. Of course, "her day was perfect," she thought sarcastically, with a brief eye roll.
Thinking she might find the relic hidden in its owner's coffin, the inevitable course of action was to approach the resting place of the dead slowly and carefully, as it was the only clue to the gourd's location. Opening the coffin, she concluded that there would be no trace of the gourd there. However, her mission could not end there, so she was motivated to find something in that tomb.
Rummaging through the sarcophagus a little more, a false bottom held a map leading to the sacred treasure buried with an ancient emperor of Mjoffrain. Ard Aheindr Sar Fraain, the misunderstood.
In a single, distracted second, the raven-haired huntress felt a club strike her right core, specifically in the area of her serratus anterior, breaking at least four ribs. Flying at terrifying speed, she was thrown against the wall, which opened a hole perfectly shaped like her body.
Still conscious, pain was overwhelming every part of her body; to the point of wanting to be dead. Blood was pouring from under her eyes, her vision was compromised. Despite the indescribable pain, she could still move. However, as not everything was perfect, in addition to the fractures in her core, her arm was completely torn apart. Without hesitation, she grabbed her sword with all her remaining strength.
Her appearance at this very moment is that of a completely divine beauty, about to fall.
Arming her sword, she ferociously hunts down the one who struck her, ready to retaliate. Using all her swordsmanship, she severs an arm from the being who caused her injuries.
"A Seraph!?" she exclaimed, surprised by what she saw.
The Seraph was probably standing guard, protecting Emperor Ard's tomb. He dodged the woman's second sword attack, but she then returned the attack with her wooden club spiked with rusty iron, knocking the woman back a long distance.
With the time gained, he threw the woman away, thus gaining a safe distance to regenerate his arm.
"You son of a…" A contraction of pain cut off her speech, and even now, speaking would be bold against such an enemy and in the current situation. Losing concentration for even a second would be a fatal mistake; the enemy could launch a second attack and, without a shred of effort, kill her with a single blow of his club.
It's difficult to move anyway, which gives the Seraph the opportunity. A surprise and fatally surgical strike would be the right choice, but she remembered her deplorable condition, but it was a risk to take since she didn't have many options, ending the fight as quickly as possible was the key to surviving at this moment, in this circumstance.
Without much patience, her decision was to deliver a final blow, unleashing everything she now possessed. The Seraphim, seemingly devoid of conscience and logic, charged forward with her superior speed and movement. Dodging his club, the woman feinted to use her maximum strength to strike the enemy's weak point in front of her.
As the climax of the fight drew to a close, the blade struck the Seraphim's belly, the weak point, cracking the supreme energy core. This caused energy leakage, and as a result, the guardian's flesh melted, defeating him. His flesh was transformed into a foul-smelling, violet rot, forcing the woman to hold her nose.
"Finally, this fucking puppet is dead... Holy shit!" With a final scream, she declared her victory.
[Love, are you okay?]—the woman's communicator rang.
"I am, but with some injuries. Good thing I brought a body recovery potion."
[Don't forget, don't remove the supreme energy nullifier. You know what could happen if you use it.]
"I know, I know. For now, keep an eye on the objective," she concluded as if it were a farewell.
[For now, I'll cut our connection so we can't be tracked. I love you, Nataly.]
"I love you too." Her voice sounded too melancholy. She ended her connection to the artifact and threw it to the ground, breaking it with a stomp. Sparks flew from the magical device.
Her wounds from the recently finished battle were healed by the powerful healing potion, and soon, with renewed determination, she decided to look at the map more carefully and follow it precisely.
The path wasn't as difficult as she imagined; so she quickly headed straight for the forgotten emperor's treasure.
The entrance was a cave, and despite her doubts, she decided to enter. Inside the cave were two ends: one corner with gold, and on the other, what the woman had come for.
Nataly walked slowly, her guard completely closed, attentive to every speck of dust falling from the cave ceiling. Her sword in hand, ready for any disagreement.
She grabbed the golden gourd as soon as she got close. Inside was the liquid that could grant immortality to anyone. And why did she want this? Anyone would have wondered, or even expressed some curiosity at such a fact.
The reason was simple. To save her child. Child? Is she pregnant or has she already given birth? Yes. In fact, she already has a child, but he is doing well. The child in her womb whose life is in danger.
With this liquid, she can grant her child a new life. It would be more detailed and specific to explain it magically.
Nataly's child bears a practically divine curse, cast by one of her enemies; the curse would be that after birth, the child would die prematurely, become stillborn, and curse his parents forever. And to prevent this, the liquid would become the final ingredient in a legendary potion that is nearly impossible to make due to the rarity of the ingredients. And the effect of this would be that, as soon as immortality was born, it would help him stay alive, cheating the curse's fate of death.
With the gourd in hand, just after removing it from the pedestal it was on, a light from the sky struck her, causing indescribable pain, especially in her stomach, but it didn't last long and left her unconscious.
And a question many would ask her or her lover: 'Why didn't your lover come in your place, since you're pregnant?'
Well, the answer is a bit difficult, but in short, a linear factor in the course of this story prevented him from coming.
Half an hour after the light fades, she awakens and ten powerful beings appear from the sky, with powerful magical auras emanating from them, radiating destruction wherever they touch.
One of them pointed at her and slowly threatened, "Surrender, child. This prank has gone too far; your duty awaits you, and your punishment will soon be revealed. The oracle will reveal your fate and show the path to our victory in this coming war. As for the bastard born, he will be granted mercy and exiled to the middle lands south of the continent." He raised his hand and clenched his fist. "As for the dead fetus, we will give it a proper burial, as an act of kindness."]
Nataly's face distorted into a grotesque scowl. Her sudden rage gave her a headache that throbbed like a hammer blow; it was what snapped her out of her daze.
"Dragon form!" she screamed in despair, tucking the item into her dimensional ring. Then she unleashed a blast of magic: "Explosive burst of fire!"
She tried to distract them with this attack; of course, it didn't work. From her dimensional ring, she pulled out a katana. "Godspell, the blade that slices through even a macro atom of mana, capable of cutting through even the purest ether."
"Do you think you'll be able to stand up to the ten higher beings of the divine with just a magic sword?" the man from before asked.
"I may not be a ten-man sword, but the sword isn't just for fighting. Wave storms!"
Indeed, she was now able to successfully divert her thoughts. With the rest of her mana, she was able to use a teleportation spell that hides your mana signature and teleports you to the last location you marked as a transfer point.
She then reappears in her hiding place. Quickly and wordlessly, she handed the item to her husband, and he quickly completed his potion. Nataly drank it calmly and soon felt the curse being broken.
However, the only thing that wouldn't leave her mind was one of the ser's lines: 'Dead fetus.'
Two days later, the couple followed through with the rest of their plan: vanishing from the map.