Chapter 337 Gemma, Gemma
Gemma shifted back to her normal self.
In the Micro world, where enemies were as bendy as rubber, her skills weren't much help.
Back in her usual form, she lost some of that otherworldly grace but felt more like herself.
It was her first time transforming since getting her new bloodline, so she was still getting the hang of it.
Dodging an attack, she sidestepped and slashed another twisted creature with her short blade. Instead of blood, there was just a pale, gaping wound.
A sharp pain in her waist sent her flying.
That was the price for landing that hit.
Gemma was getting used to this kind of fighting, trading blow for blow.
It seemed straightforward, but it was actually pretty tough.
First off, you needed to be able to take a hit. If you couldn't handle the pain, it was pointless.
Second, you had to know how to trade small injuries for big ones on your enemy, making sure you got the best deal. If you killed your enemy but ended up too hurt to move, it wasn't really a win.
It sounded easy, but to make sure you only got minor injuries, you needed perfect timing, control, and reflexes. Not many could pull it off.
Plus, you needed a strong will.
You had to handle pain, endure torment, and push through suffering, with a crazy strong life force.
Gemma's past had built that will in her. Her mental instability made her cold to everyone but William, even herself, letting her adopt this fighting style.
She had an unbreakable will, never showing fear or panic. She was relentless in solving problems.
For example, she didn't care where she was now; she just thought about how to kill these twisted creatures.
Others might think the same, but their reason would be to avoid becoming monsters like them. Gemma's thought was simple, "You hit me, I kill you."
People like her often achieved what others couldn't, even with a lot of effort.
Her short blade slashed another figure, and she got hit again. This time, instead of using the force to escape and regroup, she took the hit, slashing upward and cutting off several fingers of the guard who struck her.
The fingers fell to the weird gray ground and vanished, while new ones started to grow back on the hand.
Even Gemma couldn't help but frown.
The guards attacked again, and she kept fighting.
Her short blade left wound after wound on the guards, and she got more injuries. She noticed that the guards' wounds didn't heal, only their missing body parts did.
Gemma decided to switch things up, leaving cuts on the twisted guards without chopping off any body parts.
A fist slammed into her jaw, and she heard the sickening crack of bones. She couldn't dodge and got sent flying, crashing hard to the ground. But as she was hit, she managed to slash a guard's throat for the first time.
The guard froze, then melted into a puddle of goo.
The goo started to reform into a human shape, but it was slow.
Gemma glanced at the ground, her eyes calm, and kept fighting like her broken jaw was no big deal.
Time didn't mean much to her. She lost count of how many bones she broke by the time the last twisted guard turned into a puddle. Her jaw, shoulder, and one cheekbone were shattered, visibly sunken.
By then, the first guard she had turned into goo had reformed its legs and was working on its upper body.
Gemma looked at the ground again and then sat down to rest.
Time dragged on. When the first guard was almost fully reformed, she rushed over and turned it back into a puddle of goo.
This cycle went on and on. After each attack, she'd glance at the ground.
It was a monotonous, torturous space, like solitary confinement. In the dead silence, under the threat of twisted monsters, in endless combat, only someone like Gemma could endure.
Hungry and with no food around, she held on. Thirst was worse. When she felt her body nearing collapse, she started drinking her urine. When that ran out, she cut her wrist and drank her blood.
She knew it wasn't a smart move, but it was the only liquid she could find.
She never stopped watching the gray ground.
Gemma counted, starting over at thirty-six thousand. It wasn't precise, but it gave her a rough idea of time. When she had counted twenty times, she stood up.
It should be over eight days. If she weren't an Evolving person, she would've died earlier. But even so, she couldn't wait any longer, even if it wasn't the right time.
Gemma began furiously striking the ground, blow after blow. At first, her movements were quick, but they gradually slowed to an agonizing pace.
Her hands grew numb from the relentless impact against the unyielding ground, scraped until they bled, and even the bones began to crack. Yet, she kept going, unwavering and relentless.
Occasionally, she glanced at the gooey guards, noticing they no longer healed. A smile appeared on her face for the first time in nearly ten days, and she kept pounding the ground with her nearly ruined hands.
Gemma was still at it, striking the ground.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
