Thanks to a seismic wave, I feel everything. I can visualize every person within a ten-meter radius: their body, their movements. But above all, I've developed a connection with the ground.
I tried. The cannibal had covered himself with tree bark, but it wasn't strong enough. What I need is something hard, something resistant.
As if the ground were calling her, mid-run, she crouched and touched the earth.
A material enveloped her entire body, starting from her arms.
The man delivered a violent, precise, and swift blow. His focus was razor-sharp; he wanted to end it with this attack.
The machete struck Simone's head just as she stood up.
The man and the others thought it was over. But Simone burst into laughter.
The man looked at his machete. He had indeed hit Simone, yet she stood upright, with no visible damage to the naked eye.
Grabbing the machete still lodged in her head, Simone yanked it violently to the right, dragging the man along with it.
"What's covering your skin?" he shouted.
Simone swept the man aside, despite his physical strength surpassing hers.
"What the hell is this? How is she…?"
They stared at her skin. It had turned gray in an instant.
"No, it's when she touched the ground!"
"Are you idiots or what? She must be using a material from the soil!"
Pinning the man's left arm to the ground, Simone straddled him.
The man threw a direct punch with his right.
"AAAAH, my hand!"
The moment his fist struck Simone's face, it shattered instantly.
The man was in agony, not only from his broken hand but also from his ankle—Simone's simple leg sweep had fractured it.
But what disturbed him most was Simone's gaze. When she opened her eyes, all he saw in them was his own death.
Simone slammed her right fist into the man's face. Once. Three times. Ten times. Twenty times. Fifty times.
A deathly silence enveloped the circle. The other riders, witnesses to their comrade's execution, didn't react. They didn't move, didn't speak. They just stared at Simone.
Finally stopping, Simone gazed at her work. The man's head was nothing but a pulpy mess, his brain crushed to bits.
"I want to vomit, but I can't," she whispered to herself. "To think that it wasn't me who did this… but it was me. I took a life, good or bad, that's not the point. I killed someone because I knew he was going to torture me."
Morality and human emotions are so complex. But I've chosen the path of the survivor, the one who'll take every risk to stay alive, Simone thought as she stood, glaring at the seven remaining riders.
"From now on, anyone who shows intent to kill me, I'll strike first. Their head will fall before mine. I swear it," she vowed silently.
The riders, having seen Simone's new abilities, were wary. She had gained these powers through adversity and pain. She could surprise them again with another stroke of genius.
Simone felt her body grow heavy. Her internal and external wounds caused her excruciating pain. She knew that, no matter how much willpower she mustered, her legs would give out eventually.
"What a shame they're more than ten meters away," she thought. "But before I fall, others will fall with me."
She launched herself toward four of the seven riders, who stood ready to face her.
She stopped at nine meters, raising four fingers, each aimed at a rider.
"This run has completely drained me. My head's spinning, but I have to hit at least two. Granite arrows… I now know the name of what covers my body."
Simone focused all the granite in her body to the tips of her four fingers.
"Swift, sharp, almost imperceptible like the air. That's the result I'm aiming for."
Stalactites, thin and pointed like stalagmites, formed at the tips of her fingers.
Breathing deeply, Simone raised both hands to the sky, launching her granite stalactites.
"What are you doing? You just threw your claws!"
"Give up!"
But, like the cannibals, Simone could control her creations. Unlike them, she did so with her mind.
She closed her eyes, forging a connection with her stalactites. Her vision extended to the sky, the wind, the clouds, the position of the sun.
Bringing her stalactites back down, she visualized the four riders' positions from the heavens.
And she struck them in the throat. The stalactites returned so quickly they had doubled in speed.
The four riders didn't notice the holes in their throats until the wind passed through them.
They collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from their throats.
Blood poured heavily from Simone's nose. Before losing consciousness, she whispered, "Dina, it's your turn."
She crumpled to the ground, her body riddled with wounds, her face disfigured. Yet the three remaining riders kept their distance, wary of her.