She gripped the ancient relic tightly, feeling the power running through it. Her grip tightened as pain surged through her, but if this pain is what allowed her strength, then so be it. She fought her entire life to get her hands on such a relic, and she wasn’t going to lose it due to some pain. No, she was better than that— she had to be better than that.

A pained groan escaped her mouth as she doubled over, her hand releasing the relic as it smashed into pieces on the marble flooring, yet despite that, the rush of power still flowed through her as a scream of agony escaped her.

How pathetic she seemed. All the wars and battles she fought, only to be brought to her knees by some old artifact. Her companions would laugh in her face if they saw her in such a way.

“Hah….” She groaned, trying to get into a crawl— she hadn’t a clue when she fell over onto her side, hugging her body tightly in pain. Her mind was foggy; she couldn’t even remember why she was in so much pain. Was this going to be the end of her? No, it couldn’t be, but she didn’t find herself panicking about the possibility; it was but a fleeting one that left her yearning for that possibility than anything else.

Ancient markings carved into her skin at a painstaking slow rate, leaving her skin to slowly bleed and bruise in their wake. She hadn’t a clue what the markings were or said, all she knew is that she wanted them to stop, but they wouldn’t stop.

Regret filled her entire being— regret for choosing this quest— regret for her arrogant ways— regret for her power-hungry nature. If only she listened to her father when he adviced her of the opposite— when he adviced her to go live a peaceful life away from the adventure, death, cruelty, and victory, but she was— is an arrogant, selfish, daughter and she will always be. Is that why her father looked at her with such sadness? She always wondered why he looked at her as if she was her mother, and it turns out, she was just like her. Putting herself in needless danger to prove herself and build onto her ego, and all she can do is laugh at the pain— laugh through the pain.

All those times she would degrade someone for merely suggesting she was like her mother, and here she was, acting just like her.

Her vision faltered a bit, a pained gasp leaving her as her body gave away to the pain, and collapsed sideways, unmoving, if you didn’t count the shallow breaths being taken, that is.

When she wakes up— if she wakes up— she’s going to rethink her life choices and probably move to the country side; it’s the least she could do for herself and her loved ones, so she doesn’t cause anymore disappointment…

It’s the least…