Cold wind howled like a resentful ghost, echoing through the shattered silence of the battlefield. The air still shimmered with chaotic energy, remnants of high-tier mana clashing, crackling and popping like burning wood left too long in the flame.
Huff! Huff!
Elina's breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps. Her chest rose and fell violently, and her once fair, youthful face had turned pale—almost sickly. She looked like a flower wilting in a storm, lost and brittle.
"Damn!..." she muttered, biting her lip in humiliation, trembling with suppressed emotion.
Ever since she was born, the world had treated her kindly. Not just people—no, even nature itself bowed to her name. The wind softened when brushing her cheek. The rain never dared to fall too hard.
But today, under this blood-stained sky, she learned a bitter truth.
In the vastness of this terrifying world, she was nothing.
No one cared who her father was. Her name meant nothing in the face of death.
