Chapter nineteen
The intern who dares to challenge her master
Thud! Crunch!
The heavy door didn’t rely open—it swung forth with an explosive force, crashing against the wall.
Elizabeth woke with a start, her heart racing, and quickly scrambled upright. Panic flickered in her eyes as she glanced at her wristwatch, the numbers blurring through the haze of sleep.
“How could I oversleep?” she gasped, disbelief mingling with fear.
“Sleepin’, eh? That’s how you lot repay ? Taking it easy every single day?” The voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. It belonged to Veronica, who strode into the room with an air of authority, her presence palpable like a storm about to break.
“Haven’t I told you before? Not everyone can afford to slack off. If you keep this up, I promise you, your end isn’t gonna to be a whole lot of fun,” she continued, her eyes scanning the room with disdain.
Veronica’s gaze landed on a boy no older than Elizabeth, barely tall enough to et her defiant stare. Without hesitation, she marched over, snatched a gleaming silver sword from the corner, and pointed it at him with an almost predatory intensity.
“You! Co here. Fight with . Let’s see what you’ve really got. If you think ‘taking it easy’ will get you anywhere, think again.” The kid stood up, hesitating, his eyes wide with a mix of uncertainty and fear.
But Veronica wasn’t going to give him a chance to hesitate.
She gripped him by the collar, pulling him forward with surprising strength.
“C’mon, punk! You must’ve trained hard, right? Or are you too scared to face ?” she taunted, drawing back her sword and charging at him.
The atmosphere was charged with tension; it almost felt absurd.
Elizabeth watched the scene unfold, a part of her wanting to intervene, as she sat there, frozen on the spot.
It was pretty hilarious. Oh, god, I hope you’re there.
With a swing of her sword, Veronica cut through the air, her movents precise and deadly. The boy flinched, panic overtaking him as the sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground with a resounding thud.
The blade, now unsheathed, bit harshly into his shoulder. A scream erupted from his lips, his eyes wide with shock as he saw the crimson trickle of blood flowing down his arm.
“Feeling tough now, huh? C’mon—” Veronica sneered, yanking her sword back and slashing toward him again. The blade sliced through the air, a brilliant flash of silver, silencing everyone in the room as they held their breath.
Veronica yanked her sword from its sheath, its blade catching the light as she swung it through the air. The sharp edge cut a gleaming arc, a flash of silver slicing through the heavy atmosphere, causing the surrounding silence to thicken as if everyone montarily held their breath.
“Hey, stop, challenge , coward—”
Veronica’s sword abruptly halted mid-swing. She spun around, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto the source of the voice.
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From across the room, Elizabeth stood up, eyes blazing with fierce determination.
“Yeah, you’re afraid?” Elizabeth’s voice rang out, laced with defiance.
“Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that!” Her heart raced as she gripped the blood-stained sword, steeling herself for battle.
“Oh, right, you think you've got what it takes?” Veronica replied, a low chuckle escaping her lips as she brandished her sword.
In a flash, Veronica lunged, her blade raised high above her shoulder. It t Elizabeth’s with a violent clang, a shower of sparks flying from the impact. Elizabeth barely had ti to react as the force knocked against her shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through her body.
With a quick roll, Elizabeth ducked under Veronica’s next swing, leaping forward with newfound determination. Her sword arced through the air, cutting a line that struck true, slicing through Veronica’s knees. A stream of blood erupted from the wound, painting the ground below in a vivid crimson as Veronica grunted, disbelief flashing in her eyes.
“How on earth—” she gasped, the words barely escaping her lips as she stumbled backward.
Seizing the opportunity, Veronica retaliated, her blade glinting ominously as it t Elizabeth’s forearm with a brutal clash. Elizabeth felt her arms quiver under the force, but she refused to yield. With fierce intention, she caught Veronica’s blade and whipped it aside, forcing Veronica to grasp the hilt tightly to keep it from slipping away.
Without missing a beat, Veronica swung her sword again, delivering a harsh blow that cracked against Elizabeth’s forehead, pain radiating through her skull. Yet the fire in Elizabeth’s eyes burned bright, unrelenting.
She dodged to the side, countering with a powerful punch that landed squarely on Veronica’s shoulder. Veronica staggered back, eyeing the fresh wound with a mix of shock and fury.
Elizabeth saw her chance, her instincts kicking in.
With a swift move, she launched her blade through the air, knocking Veronica’s sword from her hands with a final, resounding crunch. Breathing heavily, both girls stood in tense silence as Veronica finally turned, retrieving her sword with a swift, practiced motion.
She shot one last nacing glance at Elizabeth, a promise of future encounters flickering in her dark gaze, before disappearing into the engulfing shadows of the room.
Penelope’s eyes bulged.
Pain exploded on impact, but as crimson liquid trickled down Penelope’s arms, a strange comfort followed. The sharpness of her agony softened, replaced by a brief sensation of relief.
Just then, the bowl above her opened, and a clear glass of water materialized.
“Hold it, don’t drink it,” a voice commanded. The weight of the command pressed against her chest, and an internal battle erupted within her psyche.
Her throat scread for moisture, parched and raw, each dry swallow felt unbearable. Yet, caution gripped her tightly, a cold hand around her heart. Fear slithered through her veins like ice, whispering of consequences that lood in the shadows.
The word ‘torture’ echoed relentlessly in her mind, and the raw, anxious instinct to obey surged within her. A promise of relief dangled before her, glimring enticingly, but each second stretched painfully, as though the universe was toying with her suffering.
She raised the glass, its edges cool against her trembling fingertips.
As the water's surface shimred, it seed to mock her, a tantalizing beacon of all her desires now forsaken. She brought it closer, and the breath she drew was shallow and shaky, each inhalation laden with tornt. She brought it to her lips. The temptation beca a palpable force, an aching knot of need lodged deep within her chest.
Ti itself distorted, with each mont dragging excruciatingly as sanity teetered on the precipice of oblivion. Her resolve, built on the fragile foundation of will, began to crumble, grain by grain, until doubt flooded in like a tidal wave.
Suddenly, she felt it: the liquid vanished into nothingness right before her eyes. The coolness of the glass was replaced. Her throat felt like kindling set ablaze, the fire raging and twisting, an inferno that consud her from within. Despair clawed at her soul, threatening to drag her deeper into a void.
As the last remnants of the water evaporated, panic surged through her.
Her mind spun in a frenzy, thoughts colliding like storm-tossed waves. A deep, visceral ache settled in her stomach, twisting violently. Each heartbeat reverberated with a defiance she hadn’t known she possessed.
Sanity was slipping away.
She clenched her fists around the glass. She felt fragile.
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