The energy blast had leveled the kitchen, turning stainless steel appliances into twisted, molten scrap. Bola Ahmed stood amidst the cooling slag, his white tattoos pulsing with a rhythmic, divine light. The halo above his head spun with such velocity it hummed like a jet engine, casting a cold, clinical radiance over the destruction.
"Tch... such imperfections," Bola whispered, looking down.
Vela lay motionless in the center of a blackened crater. Her clothes were tattered, her skin scorched, and her blood pooled on the fractured tiles. To any observer, she was a broken toy, a victim of the "Perfect" evolution.
Then, the air changed.
It didn't just grow heavy; it became dense. The oxygen seemed to vanish, replaced by a primal, suffocating pressure that made the very foundations of the Prime Minister's estate groan. The building began to shake—not from an explosion, but from a localized vibration centered on the girl in the crater.
Outside, in the main plaza, Xerxes-Vahl froze. The 9th Commander tilted his head, his four eyes widening behind his tattered hat as he stared at the residential block. "Such power..." he murmured, the golden butterflies around him scattering in sudden terror. "The equilibrium... Is being disturbed by a single soul."
Inside the ruins, Vela's fingers twitched. She pushed herself up, her movements slow and deliberate. As she rose, a glowing mark manifested on her forehead—a sleek, Sci-Fi tattoo that flickered between the visage of a snarling wolf and a coiled dragon, its lines jagged and neon-bright.
"Hey... bitch," Vela rasped, her voice sounding like grinding tectonic plates. She reached up and tore the hair tie from her head, letting her hair fall wild and matted with blood. "You aren't perfect either. You're just a snack that's taking too long to chew."
She reached down and unbuckled her combat boots.
As she dropped the first one, it didn't just fall; it hit the floor with the weight of a falling star. CRACK. The floor shattered, fissures racing across the room. She dropped the second. CRACK. The entire kitchen floor caved in by six inches.
Then, she unlatched the heavy silver bracelets from her wrists. The moment they touched the ground, the structural beams of the basement below snapped. The ground didn't just crack; it disintegrated.
Bola stepped back, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his "perfect" face. So she's been holding back this much weight? he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Vela took a single step forward. The ground turned to powder beneath her bare feet. Then, she vanished.
There was no sound of a footstep. Only a ZOOM—a sonic boom that shattered every remaining window in the wing.
Bola didn't even have time to raise his guard. One moment he was standing; the next, Vela was inches from his face. Her hand was buried deep in his chest cavity, her fingers curled around his pulsating, violet-white heart.
"Hmm," Vela muttered, looking him in the eye. "Looks like I missed your core. You've got too much junk in the way."
She ripped her hand out, bringing a spray of blood with it.
Bola screamed, his halo flared, and he unleashed a point-blank laser blast from his eyes.
Vela didn't dodge. She opened her mouth and swallowed the light. The violet energy vanished down her throat, and she let out a small puff of smoke. "A bit salty," she remarked.
Infuriated, Bola conjured a massive, jagged sword of pure white energy. He swung it with enough force to cut a mountain in half. Vela reached out, grabbed the blade with her bare teeth, and bit down. The energy sword shattered like cheap glass, and she chewed the glowing shards before spitting them back into his face like shrapnel.
Vela moved in a blur of hyper-kinetic strikes.
She drove a palm into Bola's chin, launching him toward the ceiling, then appeared above him to axe-kick him back into the dirt. As he hit the floor, she was already there, delivering a flurry of punches so fast they created vacuum pockets in the air.
Left hook. Right cross. Double-palm thrust.
Bola tried to fire a massive energy beam from his palms—. Vela simply grabbed the beam with her hands, crumpled the energy into a ball as if it were tin foil, and shoved it back into his mouth.
BOOM.
The energy exploded in his throat, distending his jaw. While he was reeling, Vela stepped in close. She didn't use a fist. She swung her leg with the force of a wrecking ball, catching Bola squarely in his balls (in between he's legs).
CRACK. The sound of his "perfect" pelvic bone shattering echoed through the hall. Bola's eyes bulged, his face turning a sickly shade of purple. But Vela wasn't done. She grabbed him by the throat, lifted him up, and delivered a second, even more powerful kick to the exact same spot.
CRUNCH.
"That's for the appetizer," she hissed.
Bola fell to his knees, his "Perfection" crumbling. He tried to summon his halo to heal, but Vela reached up and grabbed the ring of light. With a roar of pure, unadulterated strength, she snapped the halo in half over her knee as if it were a dry twig.
The divine light flickered and died, leaving the room in a terrifying, blood-red shadow.
The fight—if it could even be called that anymore—moved into the courtyard. Vela treated the Prime Minister like a punching bag. She dismantled him limb by limb. She tore his arms from their sockets and used them to beat him across the face. She shattered his kneecaps with a series of precision stomps that turned bone into jelly.
Finally, Bola stood—or rather, slumped—against a ruined fountain. His hands were gone, his legs were mangled stumps, and his white tattoos had faded into a dull, sickly grey. Blood dripped from every pore of his "Perfect" skin.
"How... how is this possible?" Bola screamed, his voice breaking into a pathetic shriek. "I am perfection! I am a god ! I am strong! How... HOWWWWWWW?"
Vela walked toward him, her bare feet leaving bloody prints on the stone. The mark on her forehead glowed with a predatory hunger.
"How? It's simple," Vela said, stopping just inches from his shivering form. "You are weak because you think power is something you wear like a crown. I am strong because I've spent my whole life carrying the weight of the world just to stay on the ground. You've simply been running... and now, I'm gonna cook you, since you destroyed the only food I had left."
The terror in Bola's eyes was absolute. This wasn't a soldier standing before him; it was a force of nature that had been denied its dinner.
"Wait... please... PLEASEEEEEEEEE!" Bola screamed, the "god of Perfection" reduced to a begging wreck.
Vela didn't answer with words. She raised her foot, the air around it distorting from the sheer density of her released power.
"Barbecue," she whispered. "Is served."
BOOM.
The final strike didn't just kill Bola; it erased the courtyard. It destroyed the entire kitchen and the building slipt into half .
Vela stood in the center of the silence, the mark on her forehead fading. She let out a long, tired breath, her stomach letting out a thunderous, echoing growl.
"Still hungry," she muttered, before collapsing onto her back, staring up at the bruised sky.
Bola stayed on the ground he's life began to flash before he's eyes and tears dropped from he's eyes
"Ho.....w?" He whispered as he took he's last breath.