[center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c4/1e/b1/c41eb1e0552e2a3a8ab1baeadb2f43a5.gif[/img] [url=https://youtu.be/UN00p8MNajg]OST[/url][/center] [hr] It was cruel to make her go first. To be the meterstick by which everyone else would be measured, to set the bar for the whole morning. It was an awful thing to go first. To set the curve. How would anyone else ever measure up? The headache was bothersome, though. The fog had only receded from Rivka’s brain that morning and in its absence her strength had begun to return. But now it redoubled, pressing in on the consciousness within her skull and prickling it with millions of tiny jolts. The pressure mounted, and mounted until she felt as though her skull might collapse. Then they came. Three figures, coalescing from nothing. Growing from the dark shadow of the world and imbued with malice and the thirst for destruction. They advanced, step by unnatural step, and her will flagged. She was again in that subway station, again the darkness was closing in, and again she faced opponents that she did not have the strength to match. But maybe this time she did. Such a small thread to grab, so distant her fingers might not even reach. It tickled her mind, hanging just beyond her mind’s eye. But it was there. She knew where, and the truth was she [i]hated[/i] it. The ugly, dull lump of ill-fortune that weighed like an anchor at her core. There had been no sense of her ascension, no feeling of the power within her now that the anesthesia faded. It had been an object of utter contempt for two days, a knife in her back every time she beheld it. The Russian even took to keeping it covered, even when she slept, as though that might overcome its curse. It was bad luck. It was an [i]affront[/i] to be given such a lifeless omen, a dark blasphemy that to her eye could have been nothing more than a lump of polished coal. The damned thing didn’t even work, and she had tried. No focus, no effort, no energy would prompt even a flicker of life in its depths. Until this moment she thought for sure the operation had failed. Not out loud, but in the privacy of her deepest, darkest thoughts in the still of the night she had doubted. Not that she could pass this trial; she would have passed it even if it killed her, whether she could summon a single [i]iota[/i] of magic or not. But that somehow they might have been wrong. That she would go home bearing nothing but an ill omen that she would never be free of. That she would face her family and tell them that she couldn’t do it, look her little cousins in the eye and tell them that she wouldn’t be a hero after all. But here in this dead place, this void of life and cheer, with dead leaves crunching under her shoes she felt it. It extended a hand to her, offered her power if only she would take it and sang out with an angel’s voice to dispel the pain from her mind. A ringing, purifying melody that she could never pen if she labored a thousand days and a thousand nights. [center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/334896275868876800/765009094864011274/Rivka4.png[/img][/center] [url=https://voca.ro/1fIYLL4cuhzZ]And the prism within her exploded into light.[/url] Rivka splayed her arms to the side, fingers outstretched, threw back her head and laughed. Power coursed through her veins, a perfectly triumphant symphony of sheer anticipation full of promise and potential. It spiraled to a tune that only she could hear, and in its face no monster could hold sway. It began at her core, now awakened to its true nature, and spread across her and within her. Her clothes gave way to her Parma, the attire that would be her armor. Strength filled her muscles, every sinew flashing with vigor and vitality, and a weight somehow familiar settled in her hand. Glasses settled on her face, tinting the world before her, and at last she felt complete. Her chin dropped, eyes alighting on the interlopers that dared to sully her moment. She wasn’t done. A world had opened before her, and she would take her time to explore it like a new instrument. Another medium for her art. She would not be rushed. The narrow street in front of her was engulfed in flames, a wall stretched from sidewalk to sidewalk. Whitehot, far too bright to be beheld by the naked eye for long. But she looked upon it without pain. The light glittered off her opalescent glasses, and sparked anew the blazing rainbow within the dark stone at her middle. Opal had once been believed to hold all the virtues of the gemstones whose hues filled its depths, and she understood for the first time. It had not been lifeless, only dormant. Waiting for the right moment to wake and fill her with invincible might. Within her she carried untold potential, and here, today, she would realize the merest fraction. Her Gladius flipped around her fingers with greater dexterity than she could ever have dreamed, and its form brought a smile to her face. Its dark dyed surface drank in the light and only made its gleaming inlay shine all the brighter. Simple sights in perfect alignment and a gleaming bayonet, and a smooth, satisfying top break. It did not take rounds, not as such. But she understood. She was the gunner and the ammunition both. The wall died down with her arms still outstretched, gleaming eyes staring at the monsters that had scared her so much before. [color=8407c2]“Listen to my song, gentlemen~?”[/color] Her rifle snapped to position, sights aligned with her eye, and a thin lance of scarlet issued forth and speared the first Void where its heart should have been. It pierced and continued forth until it dissipated, its target already slain. She didn’t want it to be so simple. The faster she finished the better, yes, but she wanted to [i]experiment[/i]. If only there were more enemies to face. The rifle split just before the barrel, snapping open as though ejecting a casing but only steam wafted out. Rivka snapped it shut again and sighted as the second void set foot on the sooty line she had drawn on the asphalt, and this time she pulled the trigger twice. Aiming was effortless. She didn’t even think about compensating for the recoil; she just did it. The weapon had been made for her, from her, and it obeyed her perfectly. Both shots struck the monsters chest, rocking it back, and its body simply exploded. Vaporized, returned to the ether from whence it had come. One remained. She could take it out as easily as the others, but… Rivka bit her lip and a grin split her face from ear to ear. She slung her rifle over her shoulder, freeing her hands, and waited. She felt so strong, she had to see what she could do. Push her limits just a little. It charged at her without regard for the passing of its comrades and Rivka felt the last of her fear melt away. It crossed the line, building speed, and she gathered in her hand the hottest flame that she could manage. A ball of energy so hot and so bright that even through her glasses it burned as though she held a miniature sun. Hands flew for her throat, seeking to tear and destroy, and the Baetaerran stepped to the side; the first time her feet had left the ground since the Void appeared. Its clumsy attack passed through the space she had occupied mere moments before, and she jammed a star on the verge of nova into its chest, blazing through its inhumanly thin body like tissue paper until it dissipated and left her standing at the heart of the dying light. The artist dusted her hands, and took a deep bow before her unseen audience.