Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

The Titans stood paralyzed, their monstrous hearts gripped by a fear they had never known. Towering beings who once loomed like gods over lesser races now found themselves looking up—way up—at a figure that dwarfed them in both size and presence. Rebecca's body had grown with terrifying rapidity, her frame now titanic, surpassing even what the Titans used to be mere moments ago. Her eyes, cold and unrelenting, cast a long shadow over the battlefield.

The sheer sight of her triggered a primal dread within them. They had never known what it meant to feel small. To feel helpless. To feel… hunted. But now, they knew.

"You enjoyed squashing people like bugs, right?" Rebecca's voice thundered across the mountain range, her colossal form amplifying every word. "I'd love to return the favor. Let's see how it feels when the roles are reversed."

Her voice rang out like a divine verdict, echoing with the weight of vengeance. The Titans panicked. Confusion clouded their once-proud faces. Some stumbled backward, scrambling away in desperation, abandoning all pride in the name of survival. Others, braver—or perhaps more foolish—stood their ground, gripping weapons, planting their feet firmly, as if sheer defiance could shield them from what was to come.

But Rebecca didn't flinch. She didn't slow. And she didn't care.

With the weight of a god and the wrath of a storm, she descended upon them. Her steps were like earthquakes, her movements swift despite her immense size. One by one, Titans—whether fleeing or fighting—met the same gruesome fate.

Crushed. Splattered. Flattened into twisted flesh and shattered bones beneath the heels of a girl who had once been beneath them all.

She marched without pause or mercy, her eyes scanning the Titan settlement with calculating coldness. Her goal was simple: extinction. No cries for mercy could be heard; even if there had been, they would have fallen on deaf ears. By the time her footsteps ceased, no Titan remained alive. Only silence, ruin, and blood.

The Titan King stood amidst the carnage, watching the massacre unfold with a mix of rage and agony. He had led his people for centuries, had seen battles and victories, but never—never—had he felt such hopelessness. His mighty warriors, now piles of mangled flesh. His proud clan, now a memory. His fists trembled. Not in fear, but in helplessness.

Rebecca shrank down slowly to her original form, her figure now that of the young woman she truly was. She stood directly before the miniature Titan King, her gaze locked onto his. Her expression was emotionless—unmoved by the bloodshed, untouched by remorse.

"How did it feel," she asked calmly, "watching your people be annihilated by someone you once looked down on?"

The Titan King didn't speak. His lips curled into a silent snarl, his eyes burning with hatred. That death glare—once capable of intimidating armies—only amused Rebecca now.

"Hmph," she scoffed, amused by his futile defiance. "Alright. It's time for you to die too."

With a swift motion, she plunged her hand—now cloaked in writhing black shadows—into his chest. There was a sickening sound as darkness consumed his heart. His eyes widened in disbelief as life slipped from his body, the shadows spreading through his veins like poison. Moments later, he collapsed, only to rise again as a puppet, hollow and lifeless, bearing a new mark: the number one engraved into his mask, shifting all other captured clan leaders down a rank.

---

*******

"What in the world happened here?" the Dwarf King muttered grimly, frown deepening.

He stood shoulder to shoulder with the other clan heads—each ruler of the major clans—gazing in horrified disbelief at the wreckage that once was the Titan domain.

No wind stirred. No birds sang. The air was thick with the stench of blood and burnt soil. Every Titan lay dead—flattened, dismembered, unrecognizable. What shocked them even more was that their bodies were now no larger than an average human's. The once-mighty race of giants… reduced to broken meat.

"Who was behind this?" the Dragon King asked coldly, his gaze narrowing with suspicion. "Who dares defy us with such brutality?"

"It appears we are no longer dealing with a petty threat," the Celestial King said, scanning the area slowly with narrowed, glowing eyes. "Whoever did this… they are far more dangerous than we anticipated."

Just then, a pair of wings cut through the air. Drakonix soared down, descending with urgency. The group turned toward the new arrival.

"Son," the Dragon King called out, his tone hesitant.

But Drakonix didn't even flinch. "Don't call me that. You lost the right the day you killed an innocent king and hurled his daughter through a rift."

The words struck like a slap, but the Dragon King said nothing in response.

"What happened here?" Drakonix asked instead, turning toward the Dwarf King. "I heard rumors, but this…"

"We saw this scene just as you are seeing it now. No survivors. No explanation," the Dwarf King replied with a tired shrug.

Drakonix narrowed his eyes. Something on the ground caught his attention. He descended in his human form, kneeling carefully beside a strange object.

It was an envelope, sealed shut with a sinister, dark aura. The seal reacted to his touch, dissolving instantly. He opened the letter, and as his eyes scanned the pages, his expression shifted with every paragraph—shock, recognition, sorrow, and worry.

"What's written in that letter?" the Dragon King asked, dropping the "son" title but keeping the stern tone.

Drakonix's voice came out low. "She… she's back. Rebecca. And she's seeking revenge."

He handed the letter to the Dragon King, who skimmed through its contents. His face darkened.

"How… how is she even alive?"

"That's not the right question," Drakonix replied sharply. "What you should be asking is—how powerful has she become, and how far is she willing to go?"

With those words, he transformed back into his dragon form, wings flaring as he shot into the sky. His heart churned with clashing emotions. Relief that she had survived. Guilt for failing her. And dread—for the war she was now declaring.

The Demon King stepped forward, arms crossed. "So, what's in the letter?"

The Dragon King didn't hesitate. "The daughter of the human king—the one I threw into the rift—she's returned. She's the one responsible for the missing clan leaders, including the Elf Queen. And now, the annihilation of the Titan Clan. She's out for revenge. That much is clear."

The Demon King chuckled softly, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes. "Well, this is going to be fun. A new threat, rising from the ashes."

The Celestial King's eyes narrowed, catching the Demon King's tone. He instantly knew what the demon was thinking—and he was thinking the same thing: capture the girl, breed her, and harvest the potential of her child.

"I'll pass," the Dragon King muttered, his wings unfurling once more. "Let her come to me if she dares."

With that, he soared into the sky, and one by one, the remaining clan leaders dispersed—each of them lost in their own schemes and secret ambitions.

---

Back at his dwelling, Drakonix landed, reverting into his human form once more. As he entered his sanctuary, he immediately sensed something… unusual.

Leviathan was already inside, lounging comfortably—beside an uninvited guest.

"You're back. Perfect timing," Leviathan said, a knowing smirk on her face. "You have a guest… and I think you'll be quite interested."

Drakonix stepped forward, heart pounding slightly as he turned toward the seated figure.

And there she was.

"Rebecca…?" he whispered.

Gone was the little girl he once held close. In her place stood a radiant, mature woman, poised with regal strength and grace. Her presence was commanding—almost divine. Yet her face was distant, unreadable.

"Drakonix," she replied, her tone neutral. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He took a step closer, unsure of what to say. "Rebecca… were you behind all those—?"

He paused, shaking his head. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He looked at her not as a witness, but as someone who once failed her.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "For being powerless that day. For not protecting you… or your father."

"It's fine," she said quietly. "You weren't the one to blame. You were innocent. The ones who weren't… I'll deal with them. Soon. So you don't need my forgiveness, Drakonix. You never did."

Her words, though kind in intent, pierced him. The warmth he once knew in her had dulled into something sharper—steeled by pain, shaped by vengeance. And in that moment, he realized…

She wasn't the same girl anymore.

She had become something far more dangerous.