Without hesitation, she began to weave again, this time forming a hexagon with her hands. She was grasping at her last hope, trying to summon something, anything,
In a critical moment of raw emotion and instinct, Nana completed her hexagon weave just in time. Her fingers snapped in a surge of mad rage, directed at the man who had gravely injured her father.
As she did so, her father’s assailant’s head exploded, blood spraying in all directions and staining the white snow red.
Her father lay on the ground, groaning in pain, his hands desperately trying to stem the flow of his own blood, his life ebbing away.
As the man who had fired the projectile fell dead, the situation escalated further. From the treeline emerged 16 other men, all dressed in dark, rugged attire, their bows drawn and aimed with deadly intent.
In a blind fury, Nana began to snap her fingers at each of them, her actions driven by fear, anger, and a desperate need to protect.
As Nana, fueled by desperation, continued snapping her fingers, each snap unleashed a destructive force against the hidden enemies. One by one, the shadowy figures in the treeline were decimated, falling to the unseen power she wielded.
Yet, amidst the chaos, her mother was not idle.
Her mother quickly formed two triangles with her hands in a weaving motion, her movements precise and deliberate. Closing her eyes, she brought her hands together in a clap. A still green light began to envelop the bulky man -- Nana’s father -- on the ground.
Miraculously, the light seemed to have healing properties, as his wound slowly started to close under its glow.
However, the enemies were relentless. Arrows continued to rain down around them, one finding its mark as it plunged into Nana’s shoulder. A sharp gasp escaped her lips from the sudden, searing pain.
Her mother dove in, grabbed Nana, and rolled through the snow, narrowly evading a volley of arrows.
Her mother raised her hand towards one of the archers. A bubble of green-lit energy enveloped the man’s head, and with one ruthless closing of her fist, the bubble contracted and crushed him instantly.
Nana lay gasping for air, the pain from the arrow in her shoulder almost overwhelming. Her mother, with a calm yet urgent demeanor, began to wipe the sweat from Nana’s face.
Placing a hand reassuringly over her head, she quickly and decisively ripped the arrow out, a necessary but agonizing action.
Nana’s gaze, sharp and focused despite her pain, caught sight of the newcomers. To her astonishment, a younger version of the Yami King approached, exuding an air of casual authority with his hands nonchalantly tucked into his pockets.
Beside him walked Erebos, but not as Nana knew him.
He was clad in strange attire, unlike anything she had seen before: dark black with a peculiar logo emblazoned on it, depicting a woman holding a torch. His attire was completed with dark-colored leather pants, adding to his mysterious aura.
Erebos, with a discerning eye, surveyed the scene. "It seems there is some talent out here," he remarked, his gaze lingering on the man sprawled in the snow, stained with blood.
His comment carried surprise and curiosity about the chaos that had unfolded.
Nana, still fueled by fear and anger, lifted her hand towards the Yami King and Erebos, ready to unleash another bout of her newfound power. Her mother moved first, driven by pure protective instinct.
She pinned Nana’s hand to the ground firmly and uttered a commanding "NO."
Nana grappled with confusion and fear as the surreal events unfolded around her.
"Mother, I don’t know what’s going on right now, but this has to just be memories, it can’t be real--" she began, disbelief and desperation cracking through her voice.
But before she could finish, Erebos appeared over her, his presence commanding and enigmatic. "So, someone out there does have the ability to alter time, even if only on such a small scale," he mused, his voice carrying a tone of intrigued recognition.
"That is pretty neat, nonetheless."
Nana opened her mouth to answer. Her words died as Erebos extended his hand over her mother.
As he did so, her mother’s skin began to grow pale, a visible sign of her life force being drained.
Her mother’s hand twitched toward Nana, not strong enough to reach her but close enough to make the moment worse.
Nana wanted to crawl forward.
She wanted to bite, scream, kick, anything.
The memory held her in place and made her watch.
It was worse than pain.
Pain at least belonged to her.
This was helplessness dressed up like a lesson.
Nana hated every breath she was forced to take inside it.
"You have a lot of potential, and you may even be useful one day," Erebos stated, his voice calm yet heavy. He placed a hand over Nana’s shoulder, his touch heavy with foreboding. "But for now, you will need to suffer for a while."
Nana’s mother’s eyes turned lifeless, a heartbreaking and terrifying transformation. From her, a small orb emerged, floating into Erebos’s hand. In his palm, two orbs -- one green and one blue -- spun around, their dance mesmerizing yet sinister.
The sight of her mother’s life essence being captured in such a way was a chilling and profound moment, leaving Nana in a state of shock and despair.
"Maybe if you ever become strong enough, I’ll let you see them again," Erebos’s voice echoed in Nana’s mind, a statement filled with both a challenge and a cruel hint of hope.
As these words resonated, fiery pain seared through Nana’s shoulder and engulfed her senses.
The world around her began to blur into darkness, the pain overwhelming her consciousness.
In those fleeting moments of consciousness, Nana saw the Yami King standing over her, his presence dominating and heavy. "Why not just kill the brat?" he uttered, his voice cold and devoid of empathy.
The chilling suggestion hung in the air after the desperate struggle Nana had just endured.
As these words echoed in her mind, everything faded to black, the pain, the voices, and the images dissipating into nothingness.