7: The Hero's First Blood
The other side of the building—Room Gamma-3.
Here, 200 students sat in eerie silence under the watch of two more terrorists. No screams yet. No violence. Just tension coiled like a spring beneath fluorescent hum.
And among them—**Lira**.
Not Ms. Lira, the professor from Yassu's class.
This was **Lira Vale**, 18, silver-eyed heroine prophesied to awaken during disaster cycles and restore balance. Tall, lean with divine symmetry—one could say her body was sculpted by gods tired of imperfect mortals.
Her skin glowed faintly—not from makeup—but from latent Awakening energy pulsing beneath pores like liquid moonlight under skin. She wore tight training clothes now torn at shoulder where she'd struggled earlier… bra and panty all that remained after rough handling.
But even half-undressed—she radiated calm strength… until *he* came for her.*
Thirty minutes had passed in silence…
Then movement.*
A terrorist—beard thick with sweat and madness—noticed her beauty too late to resist temptation.
He strode forward, grabbed a fistful of her platinum hair—and yanked hard enough to lift her off seat screaming—
"Let go!"
But he didn't care—he dragged her across floor tiles toward podium—
Students gasped—but no one moved
Could not move
Only watched as their savior was stripped bare before them…
Her shirt ripped open
Bra snapped with gloved fingers
Pants torn down legs smooth as silk
She stood trembling—but not from fear
From fury burning behind silver eyes so bright they hurt to look at
"I will kill you," she whispered through clenched teeth
He laughed—and slapped her hard across face
Blood trickled from lip—but still she didn't fall
"Try me," he sneered "Heroine or not—you're just meat today."
The second terrorist leaned back near wall chuckling—eyes lazy as if already enjoying show about to begin…
That distraction?
Was their end.*
In one fluid motion, Lira dropped low—the same way Master Ryn taught: *"When grip is tight on hair—you become snake."*
She twisted spine impossibly fast—a trained escape form known only in elite dojos—and flipped forward using his arm as pivot point!
His grip broke!
Before he could shout—
she spun again and kicked upward into jaw with bone-cracking precision → **SNAP!**
Head snapped back—he fell stunned but alive
Then she lunged sideways—to where both rifles leaned forgotten on desk beside distracted second man still laughing unaware…
Fingers closed around cold steel—
**M4AI Assault Rifle — loaded — safety off**
Two shots fired in less than one second:
***Bang — Bang***
Perfect headshots center mass temple each bullet flying true faster than scream can form mouth shuts forever both bodies dropped without final word what tragedy victory peace war none mattered anymore just silence blood spreading slow warm pool forming beneath fallen men who thought power meant terror instead skill truth fate honor love lost forgotten till girl rose weapon hand tears falling first time since childhood because yes...
...she had trained for this day...
...sparring dummies imagined enemy faces forged muscles spirit discipline beyond human limits...
But nothing prepared for this—
the weight of *first life taken*
And slowly—with rifle resting over shoulder like crown given too young—
200 stunned students who would speak of this moment for centuries,
calling it:
> **"The Birth."**