Chapter 21: The Sixth

  Xin-ta’s eyes snapped open.

  For a moment, she did not move, the sensation of being feeling foreign, unnatural—yet undeniably alive. Air rushed into her lungs, hot and sharp, as though she had never breathed before. Every nerve in her body was alight, not with pain, but with power.

  Then she saw her.

  Elaine’s body slumped to the ground, motionless.

  A spectral image of her—the ‘human’ who had just saved her—collapsing under the weight of whatever terrible thing she had just done.

  The memories surged back like a flood, hitting her all at once.

  The pain. The gaping wound in her abdomen. The moment she knew she was dying.

  But she wasn’t dead.

  Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, fingers searching for the injury, for the blood, for any sign that the wound had ever existed at all. But her flesh was whole. No torn muscle, no searing pain—nothing but smooth, untouched skin where she should have had a fatal wound.

  What had Elaine done?

  Her eyes snapped up, instincts flaring. The other human—the soldier—was still standing there, his rifle half-raised, his brown eyes wide as they fixated on the womans fallen form.

  Shock was written across his face, frozen in place as if his mind had yet to catch up to what had just unfolded before him.

  Xin-ta moved.

  She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—she reacted.

  Rolling to her feet in a single fluid motion, she snatched up the nearby spear, the weapon’s familiar weight settling into her grasp like an extension of herself. Every fiber of her being screamed that something was different—that she was stronger, faster, more than she had been before.

  She did not care.

  Not now.

  Not when Elaine lay there, unmoving.

  Her grip on the spear tightened as her gaze snapped back to the soldier. The one who shot her.

  "Zra’xir sha’dran’nok?!" she snarled, the alien language tearing from her throat like a war cry, laced with the venom of fury and confusion.

  The soldier’s head jerked toward her, his body tensing.

  His shock fractured in an instant, instinct taking over.

  His rifle rose—not toward the unconscious woman on the ground, not toward the impossible miracle that had just unfolded before his eyes—

  But toward her.

  The one who should have been dead.

  The one who was now standing, very much alive.

  Xin-ta did not wait for him to fire.

  She charged.

  Joseph had witnessed death before.

  Not the quick, clean kind. Not the kind they wrote in reports—KIA, Died Instantly, No Pain. He had seen what real death looked like. The messy, ugly, desperate kind.

  He had watched comrades claw at their own throats, gurgling as gas burned their lungs from the inside out. He had seen soldiers try to push their intestines back into their bodies, shaking, whispering prayers to gods who did not answer. He had heard the wet, choking gasps of men too broken to scream, their minds gone before their bodies finally caught up.

  But this—

  This was something else.

  Xin-ta should have been dead.

  The shot was clean. The wound had been fatal. He had seen it with his own eyes. The round had punched through her stomach, a gaping hole left in its wake, the kind of injury that no amount of training, no amount of raw instinct, could save her from. He had watched the light leave her eyes. He had heard the sound—the awful, rattling sigh of a body taking its last breath.

  And yet, here she was.

  Standing. Whole. Alive.

  His mind couldn't process it fast enough.

  And before he could even think, she moved.

  It wasn't just speed. It was something far worse. Something predatory.

  She didn't just run. She closed the distance between them in the time it took to blink. She was a blur of muscle and fury, something that no longer belonged to the realm of mortals.

  The grunt hesitated.

  It was the only mistake he was allowed.

  He fumbled to lift his rifle, his breath catching in his throat, the first hints of real fear creeping into his eyes—

  Too late.

  Xin-ta slammed into him with bone-shattering force, her spear already a blur in her hands. The impact sent him staggering, his rifle firing a panicked shot into the sky as his footing failed him. The blast was meaningless, the sound already swallowed by the wind.

  She was on him before he could recover.

  Her spear plunged deep into his shoulder, sinking through armor and flesh as though neither existed. A wet, visceral crunch filled the air, followed by the sharp, broken scream that tore from his throat.

  Joseph saw the spray of blood before he saw her expression.

  It was focused. Cold.

  Not rage. Not vengeance.

  This was survival.

  Xin-ta ripped the weapon free with brutal efficiency, spinning it in her grasp as the grunt crumpled to one knee. His breath hitched, pain stealing the air from his lungs, his hands clawing at the wound as though he could hold himself together by sheer will alone.

  He looked up—

  And Xin-ta drove the spear into his thigh.

  The force of it cracked bone, sent blood spurting in fresh bursts against the dirt, and forced a strangled, animalistic sound from deep within his chest. His body convulsed, his leg collapsing beneath him as the pain overtook his ability to resist.

  His hands scrambled weakly at the spear. Desperate. Helpless.

  Xin-ta wasn’t done.

  With terrifying grace, she wrenched the weapon free, twisting her grip mid-motion—

  And swung the blunt end of the spear in a whiplash-fast arc toward his face.

  Joseph winced at the sound of the impact.

  The grunt’s nose exploded, blood bursting outward in a violent spray as his head snapped backward with the force of the strike. He let out a noise that wasn’t quite human—half a shriek, half a wet, broken gurgle. His body convulsed as he collapsed onto his back, the world spinning around him.

  Joseph had seen men die before. But this…

  This was worse.

  Xin-ta let her spear fall to the ground.

  She didn’t need it anymore.

  She lunged, her movements inhumanly fluid, closing the final inches between them.

  She grabbed the grunt’s head, her fingers digging into his scalp, claws tearing into flesh with horrifying ease. Blood seeped between her fingertips, warm, sticky.

  Joseph saw panic flash in the grunt’s eyes.

  A desperate, animalistic terror.

  He screamed—

  Xin-ta twisted.

  Joseph heard the sharp, wet pop of a spine separating.

  The sound of life ending.

  The scream cut off mid-breath.

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  The grunt’s body tensed—then slumped, every muscle failing at once. His limbs twitched for only a moment before they went completely still.

  Xin-ta did not let go.

  She crouched over the lifeless corpse, her breath coming in slow, deep, controlled heaves, her hands still tangled in what remained of the grunt’s skull. Blood dripped from her fingers, thick and steaming, pooling into the dirt beneath her in slow, lazy rivulets.

  Joseph couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t breathe.

  He could feel it—the raw, unchecked power radiating from her form.

  This was not the same creature the grunt had shot.

  This was something else.

  Something the non-kul’human had created.

  A monster—but not one of rage.

  This was something perfect, something built only to survive.

  There was no gloating. No triumph in her expression. No pleasure.

  Just instinct.

  Joseph forced his hands to stop shaking, his fingers tightening around the rifle at his side.

  Xin-ta turned toward him then.

  Her eyes glowed in the dimming light.

  Her breath was steady.

  Blood painted her skin in long, dripping streaks.

  And then—

  She smiled.

  Joseph’s breath hitched.

  His fingers twitched around his rifle, gripping it tight, but his arms felt weak, almost useless against the thing standing before him. His mind screamed for him to do something—to react, to raise his weapon, to fire—but his body refused.

  The realization of what had just happened crashed over him like a tidal wave.

  Xin-ta had butchered Harrow.

  Not just killed—butchered.

  There had been no wasted movements, no hesitation, no excess effort. It had been the most precise execution he had ever seen. Fast. Brutal. Efficient.

  His heart pounded so hard against his ribs he swore it would break free.

  Something twisted in his gut—fear, disgust, and something else he didn’t want to name.

  Without thinking, his grip loosened. His hands opened. His rifle slipped from his fingers and clattered against the dirt. The sharp thud felt final, like a coffin being sealed shut.

  He stepped back.

  One. Two.

  His hands lifted slightly in surrender, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his wide, disbelieving eyes locked onto the alien woman standing in the carnage.

  Xin-ta watched him, her hungry grin stretching wider as she reached down and gripped her spear once more.

  Blood still dripped from the pristine, white-tipped blade, slithering in slow rivulets down the weapon’s length. A thing so beautiful—so deadly—gleaming in the dim light.

  She lifted it lazily, shifting her weight as she turned her head toward him and the remaining soldier.

  Then, she pointed it at them.

  The grin sharpened.

  Her teeth flashed—razor-edged, sharpened to cut.

  Joseph’s breath hitched.

  She was playing with them now.

  A predator with prey cornered—a cat deciding how much fun it wanted to have before sinking its claws in.

  His legs tensed. His instincts screamed at him to run—

  Then a voice.

  "Xa’loran-ha, Xin-ta."

  Soft. Gentle.

  It was so out of place amidst the blood and fear that it froze the alien woman in her tracks.

  Her spear lowered just an inch.

  Her smile faltered, confusion flickering across her face.

  Joseph saw her eyes widen as she processed the words.

  They had been spoken perfectly—her language, fluent—but from who?

  Her gaze snapped downward.

  And there, stirring from the dirt and debris of the battlefield, was the angel.

  Seraphine.

  The white-winged being lifted herself from the ground, her movements slow, deliberate, almost bored as she dusted herself off. A small grunt escaped her lips, as if she had no patience for the effort it took to rise.

  She barely looked fazed.

  But the disgust in her expression was clear.

  She glanced down at her once-pristine garments, now marred by dirt, leaves, and blood, and clicked her tongue in displeasure. Her fingers twitched, as though she longed to burn it all away in a cleansing fire.

  Then, she turned.

  Her gaze swept over the battlefield, barely acknowledging the broken corpse Xin-ta had left in her wake.

  Her lips curled—not in horror, not in anger.

  Something closer to amusement.

  And then, she met Joseph’s gaze.

  A smile—warm, but unsettling—stretched across her face.

  "You there."

  Joseph stiffened.

  "Sit."

  He obeyed instantly.

  Not out of strategy. Not out of self-preservation. But because she had told him to.

  His body moved on its own, his knees hitting the dirt as his mind spiraled into chaos.

  A being of the gods had commanded it.

  And he had complied without hesitation.

  His stomach churned as he tried to piece together the insanity unraveling before him.

  What the hell was happening?

  His mission had already been complicated before—but this?

  This was something else entirely.

  His gaze drifted toward Harrow’s lifeless body, his gut twisting with a realization that felt like ice sinking into his bones.

  He had assumed the stray shot had been random. An act of chaos in the heat of battle.

  But now, looking at Harrow’s corpse—

  The gaping, perfectly placed hole where his heart had once been—

  He knew.

  It had not been random.

  Xin-ta had moved the gun.

  She had redirected the shot.

  And Harrow had never stood a chance.

  Joseph swallowed thickly, his throat dry as he stared at the thing standing before him.

  Xin-ta had been changed.

  Remade.

  And whatever the non-Kul human—Elaine—had done…

  She had done it perfectly.

  Seraphine turned back toward the alien woman, her golden eyes flickering with something indiscernible.

  "You did good," she said simply.

  Xin-ta’s grip on her spear tightened, her body still coiled, ready to strike.

  Seraphine tilted her head, as though scolding a reckless child.

  "But wait for a moment," she murmured, her tone light, almost teasing, "while I look after my amazing human."

  Xin-ta hesitated.

  Joseph watched the tension shift—watched something in the alien woman ease, just slightly, as she finally lowered her weapon.

  Seraphine nodded in approval, then turned her back on the battlefield entirely, stepping toward Elaine’s crumpled form.

  She knelt beside her, reaching out to brush a few loose strands of hair from the woman’s face.

  Her fingers moved delicately, carefully, as she checked Elaine over, her sharp, angelic eyes assessing, calculating.

  She gave a small, approving nod.

  Then, with an elegance that felt almost too effortless, she shifted—easing herself into a seated position and pulling Elaine into her lap.

  She cradled her gently, stroking her hair, her expression unreadable.

  A long moment passed.

  Then—

  "She’ll be okay," Seraphine murmured.

  Joseph let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  But as Seraphine turned to face him, the warmth in her voice vanished.

  Her golden eyes locked onto him.

  And suddenly, Joseph was very, very aware—

  That he was the last one left.

  He swallowed hard.

  “Human.” She said with some disgust. “I thought all of you were dead, am I mistaking that Our God had sent more here than I assumed?” she asked sharply.

  He shook his head, trying to clear it. The angels voice was too serene. “I… I am a Kul’human.” He said hesitantly, “I’m not f-from your world.” He spoke as he felt the gem in his wrist vibrate slightly, his gaze shifted to it.

  Sera had noticed it too.

  “What is that?” she asked as she pondered over what the ‘Kul’human’ had said. So… he is a human, just not from Earth. She thought as she watched him very carefully.

  “This… it’s the System.” He stated as he went to check the notifications that were piling up. He lifted his wrist about to tap on it but stopped instantly.

  Xin-ta’s weapon raised as if she was about to throw it. Her eyes narrowed on the Kul. “Do not move Kul.” She hissed as Sera translated for the bestial alien.

  Joseph hesitated and then started to feel the gem radiate heat as it started to itch… the first warning. There would only be one more warning after that, and if he didn’t check it… well that would be a bad thing.

  “I… I have to check it.” He said in a pleading voice. “If I don’t, then… then It will terminate me.” He said hesitantly as he raised his wrist once more.

  “if you make any movements that I don’t like, I will allow Xin-ta here to finish what she had started.” Sera pointed out.

  He nodded.

  His eyes widened at the revelation. He gave a heavy sigh and laughed. This was exactly what he had feared. He had heard tales of whole squads dying from the System.

  “Well, it looks like I’m about to die anyway.” He said. His hands dropped to his sides. “Well, so much for an easy life.” He muttered as he flopped backward, his easy life coming to an end.

  “What do you mean?” Sera asked as she shifted her position slightly just in case she needed to protect her human once again.

  Joseph didn’t even bother opening his eyes; he ignored the burning sensation on his wrist as he sighed heavily once more. “Well. The System has determined that I’m a liability now that my whole squad is dead, and to prevent secrets from being told its going to kill me soon.” He rolled over to his side and looked at Harrow and the unnamed grunt. “Think you can make it quick?” He asked knowing that however the System was going to kill him most likely wouldn’t be pleasant.

  This perplexed the angel. Her head cocked to the side as she then noticed the smell of burning flesh. Her breath caught for the briefest of moments as she realized that the gem in his wrist had started to glow a painful red. “Is that thing going to kill you?” she asked quizzically.

  “yes,” he said with a grunt as he waved his hand in the air in a slow circle. “So, do you mind killing me right quick, this is really painful after all.” He said as he got to his feet, making pained sounds as the smell of his flesh came to his nose. He looked down at his wrist and noticed the red lines starting to appear around the gem, slowly crawling up his arm.

  He closed his eyes and let his arms fall to his side. Ready to receive his fate, hoping and praying to whatever rouge god that they followed here would finish it quickly as he felt the mana veins in his body burn.

  Sera looked to Xin-ta. She gave a nod, and that was when the alien woman nodded, too. No words were needed as she gripped her spear tight and slowly approached the Kul’human. She had a look of pity on her face; she didn’t like to kill something that couldn’t or wouldn’t fight back.

  His gem Chimed.

  His eyes opened and Xin-ta hesitated.

  The red mana veins started to retract.

  There was another notice.

  He lifted his sore arm up and tapped the gem.

  Joseph quickly raised his hand to stay the alien woman. Xin-ta did hesitate for a moment, weirded out by the man who was supposed to be the victim of her spear, and yet even watching the corrupted mana veins completely vanish into the man's wrist gem, she was intrigued and did just that.

  Joseph did just that, never once in his whole life, or anyone that he had ever met, had he heard of someone hijacking the System before. This…. This day…. Could it get any more strange. He thought as he looked at who he believed was Seraphine.

  “Umm… Seraphine. Marios says that your god saved him?” he asked and stated at the same time, his eyes full of confusion and wonder. “And… me?”

  Seraphines eyes widened. “Oh… my… well Kul’human,” she paused, brushing Elaine's hair, “You are now more valuable alive.” She said with a wicked grin.

  He didn’t like how that looked.