You Already Won

The breeze blew through her hair like a teasing whisper, brushing past her cheeks and catching the tips of her blonde strands as they shimmered in the sunlight. Destiny stood near the mountain's edge, her fingers playing idly with the edge of her gem bag as she gave it a final count. Twelve billion points. She smirked. Not bad. Not great. But not bad.

The black-and-gold robe she wore shimmered like oil against the light, the hood draped halfway over her head. The cloak had self-repairing fabric—thankfully—because she had no patience for holes or wear and tear. And when the wind caught it just right, flaring it behind her like twin wings of ink and metal, she couldn't help but admit it: she looked like a final boss. Or at least a mid-tier mini-boss with main character flair.

Destiny secured the gems into her gold zone—a private spital storage pocket—and cracked her knuckles. The view was too nice to ignore. She leaned forward slightly… and ran.

Straight up the side of the mountain.

To anyone else, it would've seemed impossible—gripping footholds or needing climbing gear—but Destiny was more a force than a person. Her boots sparked with Ryun as they gripped the sheer stone face, but it wasn't just for function. She was enjoying herself. With every step, her legs coiled with tension and snapped upward like a slingshot. The air streaked past her cheeks. Clouds drifted like drowsy ghosts beside her. And the world slanted unnaturally, tilted sideways in her vision as the sky and stone blurred together.

The wind in her hair was freedom. The rush was pure. She felt like a goddess skating across a planet's jawline.

But after a few minutes of sprinting vertically with zero resistance, her thoughts soured a little. It had been days since she ran into anything worth breaking a sweat over. No monsters. No cults. No outlanders with god-complexes. No "NPC natives" looking to prove something.

She clicked her tongue and grinned.

Alright, she thought. Time to make things interesting. Let's find the next hellhole and run into it screaming. That always wakes things up.

Her senses were dull. Her fingers itched. The mountain sang with wind—but she needed the scream of chaos.

Something. Anything.

Destiny sat on the jagged lip of the mountain, legs swinging slightly as her eyes traced the valley below. Herds of strange beasts moved like inkblots across the pale grass—horned antler-lions, boulder-backed toads, even a massive dragon-like creature that looked half-asleep on a bed of bones and roots. All of it should've fascinated her. But none of it did.

She exhaled, cheek resting on her hand. Her blonde hair swayed with the breeze.

Three days until the eighth.

Her brow furrowed slightly. Vari hadn't mentioned anything about a rule change. Which was rare. Elegantly perfect, she thought with a scoff, the phrase echoing in her head like one of Vari's polished throwaway lines. Vari usually narrated everything—schemes, shifts, twists in the realm's pulse. So her silence now? That was loud.

And yet it wasn't just the mystery that annoyed her. It was Vari herself. Or rather… herself.

It was maddening, thinking so often of someone who was her and wasn't. A future. A god. A mirror that glared back with a face sculpted in power and poise but dipped in venom and smug certainty. Was that what I become? Destiny thought, running her fingers through her hair. I thought I'd be more… awkward. Maybe humble. Not—

She shook the thoughts off like ash and stood.

"Enough gods. Enough sitting. Let's do something."

She cracked her knuckles, inhaled sharply through her nose, and shifted her stance. The air around her grew heavy, like a held breath. Her cloak settled. Her body stilled.

Then she reached inward.

Her Ryun began to build—not just in her core but along the web of nerves beneath her skin. She filtered it precisely, like threading sunlight through a thousand tiny needles. Each strand obeyed her command, cycling through her limbs and coiling at her soles. Her aura shimmered gold and black, fractal patterns forming around her fingertips and heels.

And then she moved.

This wasn't raw speed. This was grace incarnate. A movement meant to blur time—elegance given velocity.

A flash. No, less than a flash.

A streak of gold tore across the valley and through the stone itself.

A mountain—once proud and ancient—shivered. A perfect diagonal seam sliced through its center, a cut so clean the upper half hovered for a breathless moment before crashing down into itself. Thunder rippled outward. Wind cried in terror. Creatures scattered like glass marbles.

Destiny stood far ahead now, several miles from where she started, Ryun still crackling around her body like threadbare lightning.

She was breathing hard. But smiling.

"That's good," she muttered to herself. "But a decent ranker… they'd block that. Maybe even redirect it."

She sat again, this time atop the shattered peak. Her thoughts swirled.

I need to layer it. Move while moving. Motion within motion.

She closed her eyes. Not just speed.

Control.

Standing atop the ruins of the mountain she had cleaved in half, her black-and-gold cloak flaring behind her like a divine banner in the wind. Her eyes glimmered with mischief and challenge.

She raised one hand lazily toward the horizon.

A ripple of Ryun danced across her skin, and then her aura surged.

She moved—not at light-speed this time, but fast enough that the mountains ahead seemed to warp before her, as if anticipating their own demise. She twirled mid-air, hands glowing, and pointed like a maestro conducting ruin. With each flick of her fingers, beams of condensed golden light lanced out. One after another, dozens—then hundreds—of beams shot into the next three mountains, carving through their peaks and foundations like divine scalpels. The rock cracked, crumbled, and then collapsed in wide avalanches, raining stone and smoke across the valley below.

From the rubble, a deep groan erupted—an ancient, thunderous sound that trembled the bones of the area itself.

The massive dragon-like creature stirred, now clearly agitated. It rose to its full height—its long, obsidian-scaled body stretching across the sky, plated in molten-red ridges, with horns that crackled like thunderclouds. Its six wings unfurled, and its blue eyes locked onto Destiny.

She smiled.

"You're awake now, huh?"

The beast roared, a breath of crimson fire cascading toward her like a hell-born tidal wave.

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Destiny raised both arms—and her golden aura flared, forming a radiant dome around her, a smooth sphere of Ryun-woven shielding. The flames slammed into the dome, boiling the air and blackening the sky, but she didn't budge.

Instead, she launched herself forward inside the dome—blazing straight through the inferno.

The dragon saw the incoming light and snapped forward, its jaws wide.

It bit down.

But the dome… shifted.

Dozens of golden spikes shot outward like blades from a celestial sea urchin, impaling the inside of the dragon's mouth. Destiny stood at the center, her arms now outstretched like a cross of war.

She clapped her hands.

The light dome exploded inside the dragon's throat, channeling beams and compressed Ryun straight down into its core.

The dragon shuddered—then detonated.

A blast of pressure and light shook the mountains. Blue blood rained from the sky in sheets, and massive chunks of glowing red flesh and shattered bone followed. The earth was painted in gore.

Destiny stood untouched, her golden aura forming a lotus-like shield above her. The blood and organs slid harmlessly off her light.

She tilted her head back and laughed—loud and unrestrained.

"Now that was exciting."

The sun filtered through drifting clouds, casting soft light across the vast valley below as Destiny floated with slow grace, her golden wings unfurled like extensions of divinity. Each beat of the light-crafted wings shimmered, more illusion than substance, but enough to keep her gliding just above the treetops and craggy terrain.

The last few hours had been underwhelming. Just three gold gems found—nothing else. No real threats. No competitors. That dragon was the only amusement. It made sense, though. From what she remembered, this region was as wide as three North American continents stacked together. The sheer scale of it made chance encounters rare.

Still, she'd covered insane ground over the past five days. Her enhanced body barely tired, and with Ryun coursing through her veins, she could run across rivers and leap ridgelines like stepping stones. But it wasn't just about the power—it was the presence it gave her. The freedom.

She never considered herself an "animal person" back home, but being out in nature? That was different. Her love for open skies, wind on her face, untouched ridgelines—it had always been there. And here, in Requiem, the wilderness felt wild in the right way. Not chaotic. Not hostile. Just… earnest. The animals here respected power. Even when they weren't sentient, they could sense it. It kept them from being pests.

That part, she liked.

She sighed and twirled midair, coasting lazily on a thermal. The wings crackled with low golden Ryun, and her cloak danced behind her like a comet tail.

And yet… even with the new powers, the unnatural strength, and the exhilaration of flight, there was something she missed.

Gear.

As much as she loved the freedom Ryun gave her—the ability to leap canyons, scale cliffs with a thought, and move like wind incarnate—it wasn't the same. She missed the feel of climbing. Not just the action, but the gear.

The harness, the rope weight at her side. The tight pull of carabiners clicking into anchors. Chalk on her hands, the tension of each grip, the pressure in her legs as she balanced on a knife-thin ledge. She missed the prep. The risk. The process of earning the summit one foothold at a time.

Out here, she just flew.

Which was… amazing. No denying that. But it was also easy. And Destiny was someone who didn't like shortcuts—not when it came to the things she loved. Powers were great, but they lacked that raw texture of a real climb, of physical limitations being pushed and outwitted.

She glanced down at a cliff face streaked with mineral veins, the kind that would've made for a perfect route back on Earth. It felt weird, missing something so mundane while floating like a goddess. But it made her smile.

Maybe after this event, she'd find a way to challenge herself properly. No flying. No Ryun. Just her and the mountain again.

She breathed in deeply.

Still, she couldn't complain. Golden wings weren't exactly a downgrade.

Far off in the distance, a glint of light bounced off what looked like a silver spire protruding from a rocky plateau.

Finally. Something.

She angled her wings and dipped forward, streaking toward it like a falling star.

The wind howled around her as Destiny tucked her wings and dove, golden light trailing behind her like a lance tearing through the sky.

Below, chaos reigned.

A native civilization—tiered stone buildings carved into the silver-veined cliffs, smoke rising from shattered courtyards—was under siege. Competitors, Freelancers, outlanders—it didn't matter. They were attacking with reckless aggression. Ryun blasts erupted between market stalls, blades clashed in the streets, and frightened citizens, clearly not warriors, fought with desperate fury to defend their home.

Destiny sighed, her eyes narrowing.

She came down like a judgment.

A radiant blur streaked across the clouds—then impact.

A boom thundered through the cliffs as she struck the earth like a falling star, golden wings flaring in every direction.

The four closest Freelancers, caught in the radius, didn't even have time to scream. The sheer force of her descent combined with a lightburst detonated from her aura disintegrated them on contact—erased, atomized, gone in a blink.

Dust billowed. Silence followed.

The battle in the area froze.

All eyes turned to the golden and black—cloaked figure rising from the cratered street, standing untouched as golden Ryun coiled around her feet like mist.

She smiled—serene, unapologetic. "Wasn't anyone gonna tell me we were picking on civilians today?" she said softly, around her, the air shimmered. And the invaders hesitated.

The remains of the four she'd just incinerated still glowed with heat behind her. Ahead—dozens more stood. Contestants. Outlanders. Natives. Mercenaries and warriors who believed the best path to glory was by stepping over corpses.

The golden snake sigil coiled along her back, its fanged maw snarling beneath a broken crown. Vari's mark. The emblem of the Supreme Family.

The reaction was instant.

A voice rang out from the crowd.

"Oh look," it said, rich with mockery, "a Supreme Family member graces us with her presence. Shall we all bow our heads?"

An outlander stepped forward. Her sword dragged along the ground, green flames etched with divine lettering dancing up her arms like living scripture. Zirah Wex. She wasn't hiding her presence—no, she flared it, sharp and scalding. The air crackled with the weight of her Ryun, as though every word spoken carved itself into the bones of the realm.

Destiny smiled, tilting her head slightly, "That your way of saying hello?"

Zirah only smirked. "My way of saying don't expect reverence, little whore."

Beside her, glowing in pulsing red like molten sorrow, stood Raetha Volne. A native—born in the haunted region of Vrakkon, where names were spells and blood remembered everything. Sigils swirled around her, burning patterns into the air. She didn't speak with her mouth. The marks on her skin trembled as her Ryun translated her intention directly into Destiny's mind.

"Your light blinds you. I'll carve eyes where they should be."

The third stepped forward with a light skip and a lazy twirl of her pistols—Xavion Bell, known in their world as "Crisper." Multicolored hair, pastel charm and war-grade tech armor. She looked like she belonged in a tactical fashion show, but her guns hummed with the kind of lethality that would make the strongest flinch.

"Are we supposed to take turns trying to kill you, or is this like a free-for-all raid boss moment?" she asked. "Because I'm all warmed up."

To her left descended Ser Halnoth, his wings folding in with immaculate precision. His armor was white and celestial, yet battered—each scratch a protest, each dent a sermon unsaid. The blade at his side was too elegant for a man so grim.

"She bears the mark of the Supreme," Halnoth said, more to himself than anyone else. "But not the restraint. If you are what they say, show it. Otherwise—step aside."

And last came Tharnic of the Furnace, hoisting his hammer onto his shoulder like it was weightless. His chest glowed beneath a tattered smith's robe—veins of light pulsing through black steel flesh. He looked tired. Not angry. Just worn, like iron that had been struck too many times.

Destiny's eyes flicked across them all. They weren't allies. Just individuals orbiting violence. The others—nearly thirty—watched from behind, tension ready to tip into carnage at any word.

Zirah Wex tilted her head, eyes glowing faint green beneath her cropped bangs. Her sword hummed with pulsing energy.

Raetha Volne's red sigils flared like fresh wounds. She stepped forward, lips barely parting.

"You are radiant, Supreme child," she murmured. "I wonder how loud your bones scream when broken."

Xavion "Crisper" Bell whistled, twirling a pistol before flicking open her gunwheel mid-stride. "Yo, chat, someone clip this—this is definitely a mid-boss drop. Gold sigil? Prime loot." Her pistols snapped into place, each glowing with purple-pulse energy. "She better drop a rare skin or I'm rage-quitting."

Ser Halnoth's wings rustled faintly as he stepped forward, his gaze stern.

Tharnic of the Furnace grunted, pointing the hammer at Destiny. He spat to the side.

"Vari burned down my father's forge. Now her spawn wears the brand like it earned anything." His eyes narrowed. "You're nothing but an entitled blight."

Destiny didn't flinch. She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, and met their eyes one by one. Her golden gaze was unreadable. "If I wanted your respect," she said, brushing windblown hair from her face, "I'd be dressed better. Besides, who wants respect from bullies?"

"You're here to defend these people?" Crisper asked, cocking her head. "'Cause they're already down a few respawns, sweetheart."

Destiny looked around—the burning streets, the fleeing children, the smoldering corpses.

"Tell me something," she said. "Why are you doing this?"

Zirah's smirk widened. "They're NPCs. Plus I need the experience. Not all of us got the castle treatment!"

Raetha's voice fluttered, barely above the wind. "To feed the sigils."

Tharnic just stared.

Halnoth closed his eyes. "Because justice has lost its throne. And these sacrifices will fuel my ascension to restore it."

Crisper shrugged. "And hey, leaderboard points."

Destiny's smile was slow and dangerous.

"Good," she said. "Now I don't feel bad."