The morning began like any other. Yang carried a basket of herbs back from the forest, humming softly as the sun rose over the rooftops. The village was alive with warmth—children running, merchants calling, and her friends waving as they passed by.
But beneath that peace, shadows moved.
As Yang stepped into the square, a shrill whistle cut through the air. A moment later—chaos erupted.
Dark figures cloaked in black stormed the streets, blades flashing. The emblem of the Nemesis Clan gleamed on their armor. Villagers screamed and scattered as fire was lit upon rooftops.
"Attack!"
Yang dropped her basket, heart pounding. Her friends clung to her arms, terrified.
"What do we do, Yang?!"
Before she could answer, one of the masked warriors stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at her.
"There she is. The vessel."
Yang froze. Vessel?
The warrior lunged. Instinct guided her hands—she grabbed her friend and rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the strike. But as she scrambled to her feet, something inside her stirred. A burning warmth surged in her chest, echoing the same light she saw in her dreams.
Her vision blurred. The world slowed. For a single moment, she saw threads of energy coursing through the air, connecting everything—the flames, the steel, even the enemy before her.
Her body moved on its own. She raised her hand—and a burst of force erupted outward, hurling the warrior across the square.
The villagers gasped. Her friends stared, wide-eyed.
"Yang… what was that?!"
Yang stared at her trembling hands, fear and confusion tightening her chest.
"I… I don't know."
But the Nemesis warriors knew.
"So it's true," one hissed, steadying himself. "The seal is breaking."
Their leader raised his blade, shouting:
"Capture her alive! Do not let her escape!"
More shadows closed in, surrounding her.
Yang's breath quickened. She could fight—but the power inside her was unstable, wild. One wrong step could destroy everything around her.
"Run!" she shouted to her friends. "Get everyone to safety! I'll hold them back!"
The villagers hesitated, but her fierce eyes left no room for doubt. As they fled, Yang turned to face the warriors, her heart trembling yet determined.
For the first time, she stood not as a child—but as the girl fate had chosen.