Emilia stood at the entrance of the ruined hospital and let out a long, weary sigh. The once pristine white walls were now cracked and blackened, debris littered the floors, and the acrid smell of smoke and burnt plastic hung heavily in the air. She was never meant to handle such mundane threats as these low-level terrorists. As Captain of the A-3 District Star Forces, her duties usually involved far greater dangers—planetary threats, rift anomalies, or elite enemy operatives. But the moment she received the report that this was the exact hospital where her father was stationed for recovery, everything changed. She had dropped everything and rushed here without a second thought.
As she scanned the group of armed terrorists gathered in the devastated lobby, Emilia quietly activated her ability. Her eyes glowed faintly with a silver hue as she peered into the countless threads of possible futures. Images flashed through her mind in rapid succession: masked men storming the corridors, gunfire echoing through the halls, and her father lying motionless in his bed. These attackers were not random opportunists. They had come with a clear, deadly purpose—to assassinate her father.
The realization sent a fresh wave of irritation surging through her. Her expression hardened, and without uttering a single word, she released her aura. An invisible pressure rippled outward like a shockwave, heavy and suffocating.
Austin, the leader of the terrorist cell, felt his knees buckle the instant the aura washed over him. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead. It was common knowledge throughout the districts that Emilia was an Investor-tier warrior. He, by contrast, was only a Borrower-tier fighter—two entire tiers below her. The gap in power was enormous. Where he could borrow strength from surrounding energy sources for short bursts, she could invest her own power into devastating, sustained combat techniques that few could withstand.
Standing calmly beside her, Vice Captain Devante observed the scene with mild amusement. He was not surprised by Emilia's outburst in the slightest. "These idiots actually had the courage to try and kill Emilia's father," he thought to himself. "How brave… or perhaps how utterly stupid." Of course, he had already deduced their motive as well. His own sharp instincts rarely missed such obvious patterns, even without future-sight.
Austin quickly realized there would be no peaceful escape from this confrontation. Swallowing his fear, he barked orders at his men. "Form up! We fight!"
It seemed like pure suicide: two Investor-tier operatives against one Borrower and four lowly Glimpsers. But Austin had no choice. Failure was not an option for him or his group. He raised his laser rifle, aiming directly at the two figures silhouetted against the shattered doorway, and opened fire without hesitation. Bright crimson bolts of energy streaked across the hall. His subordinates followed suit, unleashing a chaotic barrage of lasers that lit up the dim interior with deadly flashes.
Emilia could not help but scoff at their childish display. To her, their attack was nothing more than a pathetic tantrum.
She took one deliberate step forward, planted her boot firmly on the cracked floor, and launched herself toward the terrorists with explosive speed. The sound of her movement echoed like thunder.
**BOOM.**
Ignoring the incoming lasers as though they were harmless raindrops, she closed the distance in an instant and drove her fist straight into Austin's abdomen. The impact was devastating. The leader of the terrorists flew backward, crashing violently into the far wall with a sickening crunch. His arms and legs twisted at unnatural angles from the sheer force.
"Dammit… she really is an Investor-tier warrior," Austin gasped inwardly, struggling to breathe through the pain.
For those unfamiliar with the tier system, there existed six progressive levels of power: Glimpser, Borrower, Extractor, Investor, Paradox User, and the legendary Singularity. Each tier was further divided into three distinct specializations—Therapist, Scholar, and Warrior. Therapists excelled at manipulating emotions and psychological states, turning fear or doubt into weapons. Scholars devoted themselves to expanding their intellect, gaining near-superhuman analytical and strategic abilities. Warriors, like Emilia, focused entirely on raw combat strength, honing their bodies and techniques into instruments of overwhelming force.
Emilia had always been a pure Warrior. She cared little for emotional manipulation or intellectual pursuits. Instead, she had poured every ounce of her talent into increasing her physical power, speed, and durability. That singular focus had carried her to the Investor tier at a remarkably young age, earning her both respect and fear across the districts.
Devante watched the unfolding battle with a faint smile playing on his lips, but he made no move to intervene. He leaned casually against a broken pillar, arms crossed, clearly confident that Emilia could handle the situation on her own. His trust in her abilities was absolute.
Meanwhile, Austin lay slumped against the wall, his limbs dislocated and his body wracked with pain. Emilia paid him no further attention and turned her focus to the remaining four terrorists. What followed was a brutally one-sided display of dominance. Even while facing four opponents simultaneously, she relied only on the most fundamental techniques—swift kicks, powerful punches, precise hand jabs, sharp elbows, and devastating knee strikes. Yet every movement was executed with perfect timing and overwhelming strength. The terrorists were tossed around the hall like ragdolls, their laser rifles clattering uselessly to the floor as bones cracked and bodies slammed into debris.
In another part of the hospital, Trevor had been hurriedly dragged away from the fighting zone by his teammate Alvin. Just as Alvin prepared to evacuate him through a side exit, Trevor suddenly seized Alvin's arm with surprising strength. His eyes had turned completely white, devoid of any pupil or iris, and thick streams of bloody tears began flowing down his cheeks.
Alvin froze in shock, his heart pounding. "Trevor? What's happening?"
"Alvin…" Trevor whispered in a strained, fading voice, "you need to go back right now. Tell Emilia… to move."
Before Alvin could ask for any explanation, Trevor's body went limp as he lost consciousness.
Alvin hesitated for only a split second. He did not understand the reason behind the sudden warning, but he trusted Trevor enough to act immediately. Turning on his heel, he sprinted back toward the main hall as fast as his legs could carry him.
By the time Alvin burst back into the devastated lobby, Emilia had already dispatched the last of the terrorists. She was now walking slowly toward the injured Austin, her expression cold and resolute, clearly intending to finish the job.
"Looks like this is the end of the road." Austin rasped, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to sit up.
"Yeah," Emilia replied flatly, her voice devoid of mercy. "For you."
A bloody, defiant smile spread across Austin's face. "Not quite."
At that exact moment, Alvin charged into the hall, his voice tearing through the tension like a siren.
"MOVE!!!" he screamed with every ounce of strength he possessed.
Emilia reacted instantly, her body moving on pure instinct. She leaped sideways just as Austin's expression twisted from triumph into pure shock and despair. He realized too late that his hidden trap had been exposed.
**BOOM.**
A powerful explosion erupted exactly where Emilia had been standing moments earlier. The blast was concentrated and vicious, strong enough to obliterate anything within a ten-meter radius, yet controlled enough not to collapse the entire hospital wing. Flames and smoke billowed outward as debris rained down.
Emilia straightened up, brushing dust from her uniform, and glanced briefly at Alvin. A silent nod of acknowledgment passed between them. Without wasting another second, she turned and strode purposefully toward the corridor leading to her father's hospital ward, her aura still faintly radiating around her like a protective cloak.
The battle was over, but questions lingered in the air. Who had sent these terrorists? Why target her father specifically? And what other dangers might still be lurking within the shadows of the district?