Chapter 8 – The Heir
Cordelia walked alone through the desolate desert, her steps light but full of purpose upon the scorched sands. The wind howled across the wasteland, carrying with it the ghosts of forgotten wars and the scent of dried blood. Above, the sun loomed heavy, casting long shadows over shattered stones and bleached bones.
"Today..." she whispered, shielding her eyes from the glare, "...I'll search for my parents near that abandoned city."
Her voice was soft, yet her gaze burned with fierce determination. Every day was a battle—every lead, a dead end or a painful memory. But she refused to give up. Somewhere in this cursed world, her parents were still out there. Waiting.
Suddenly—clang... clang... clang...—the sharp, rhythmic clash of metal pierced the silence.
Cordelia froze, her ears sharpening.
"That sound..." she muttered, pulse quickening. "Swords? Could it be them?!"
Without hesitation, she sprinted toward the noise, kicking up clouds of sand as adrenaline surged through her veins. As she approached the crumbling ruins of an ancient settlement, the metallic echoes grew louder, more desperate.
Then a voice rang out among the ruins:
"Come on, you bastards! I'll defeat every last one of you, claim the inheritance, and protect everyone back at the orphanage!"
Cordelia halted, pressing herself against a broken wall. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner.
In the heart of a ruined plaza, surrounded by toppled statues and shattered columns, stood a teenage boy—barely.
He was injured, one leg soaked in blood, yet still defiant. Ten skeletal knights in rusted armor closed in around him, their hollow eyes glowing faintly red, swords raised to strike.
"He doesn't stand a chance…" Cordelia whispered, fists clenching. "He's just a human…"
But then—she felt it. A warmth rising from within. Familiar. Ancient. Divine.
She placed a hand over her chest and murmured, "Divine Possession."
In an instant, light enveloped her. Her brown hair shimmered into gold, her green eyes sparkled with starlit power, and two delicate white ram horns spiraled from her head. Her worn cloak transformed into glowing, graceful armor pulsing with divine energy.
She didn't waste a second.
Magic surged beneath her feet as she charged forward. With a mighty leap, she soared through the air and landed in the center of the undead ring. The ground cracked beneath her impact.
Then—BOOM!
A blinding shockwave burst forth from her radiant kick, infused with pure light magic.
Bones shattered. Armor scattered. The explosion lit up the plaza like a miniature sun.
When the dust settled, the skeletal warriors lay in pieces.
Cordelia turned—then gasped. The boy lay unconscious, blown back by the force of her attack. His sword was several feet away.
She rushed to him, kneeling beside his limp body.
"Hey... hey, are you alright?" she asked, gently shaking him.
He groaned, eyelids fluttering. For a brief moment, his gaze met hers.
Green eyes.
Then—darkness.
"He's out cold…" Cordelia murmured, letting the divine energy fade. Her golden hair turned brown once more, her horns vanished, and her armor melted back into a simple tunic and cloak.
Just a girl again. But the divine echo still lingered in her presence.
She scanned the area—no more threats. Still, her instincts told her to remain cautious.
Then she looked down at the boy.
"He's breathing… good."
She bit her lip, unsure of her next move. The city was empty. Silent. And she hadn't seen another human in so long…
"I can't leave him here."
With a sigh, she bent down, lifting him carefully onto her back. She carried him through the ruined streets to a shelter she had claimed—a half-buried house, still mostly intact, its walls weathered but standing strong against the desert winds.
Inside, she laid him gently onto an old, dusty couch. The fabric was faded and torn, but it would do.
Cordelia knelt beside him and whispered, "Cancel."
The last traces of her divine power vanished, leaving her fully mortal once again. She examined his wounds, pulling up the leg of his pants—and her heart sank.
Deep cuts. Severe bruises. A fractured bone.
He was lucky to be alive.
She spotted several vials strapped to his belt—healing potions.
Frowning, she muttered, "Why didn't he use them?"
Then her expression softened.
"Panic, maybe. First-timer's mistake. Tried to play the hero… and forgot what he had."
She opened a vial and gently lifted his head, pouring the glowing liquid into his mouth. The magic worked quickly, sealing the worst of his wounds.
Cordelia sat back with a quiet sigh. She placed the empty vial aside and draped a blanket over him.
"Now… I just have to wait."
Time passed. Minutes. Then an hour. She kept herself busy—cleaning his wounds, preparing water, studying his face. He was young—maybe her age. Dark, messy hair. And those green eyes…
Then—
"Ahhh!"
He jolted upright, gasping, eyes darting around in confusion.
"Where am I?!"
Cordelia sat beside him, calm, a small fire flickering between them.
"You're safe. I saved you," she said gently, her voice warm and composed. She tilted her head, curious.
"Now… can you tell me how you ended up here?"
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