The evening was peaceful.

Lucia sat on the grand balcony, the golden glow of the setting sun illuminating her soft smile. In her lap, Milim giggled, swinging her legs as she ran her fingers over Gaia's smooth scales.

The small dragon—her beloved companion—purred, eyes half-lidded in contentment.

Veldanava sat nearby, watching them with warmth in his gaze.

Lucia kissed Milim's forehead. "You've grown so much, my love."

Milim pouted. "I'm already big and strong!"

Veldanava chuckled. "Then protect your mother for me, alright?"

Milim grinned. "Of course! I'll protect Gaia too!"

The young dragon nuzzled against her, as if understanding.

Lucia smiled. But in the depths of her heart—a strange unease settled.

She shook it off.

Rudra was away, but he would return soon.

They were safe.

Or so she thought.

The Elves' Betrayal
They came under the cover of darkness.

Silent. Precise. Merciless.

A race that once swore peace had turned into hunters.

With Veldanava weakened and Rudra gone, their opportunity had come.

To them, Milim was not a child.

She was power incarnate—a weapon to be molded, a tool to dominate the world.

They descended like phantoms.

The palace guards never saw them coming—a quick slash to the throat, a poisoned dart, a muted cry.

And then—they reached the chambers.

Gaia sensed them first.

The dragon let out a low, warning growl.

The elves hesitated.

Their leader whispered. "Kill the beast."

A blade flashed in the dark.

Gaia roared in pain—a long, agonizing sound that shattered the silence of the night.

Milim jerked awake.

Her eyes fell on Gaia's bloodied body—the dragon thrashing weakly on the floor, gasping for air.

"G-Gaia?"

She scrambled toward her fallen friend, shaking him desperately.

Gaia let out a weak cry—his golden eyes locking onto hers—before, with one last shudder, his body went still.

Gone.

Her best friend. Her guardian.

A small, broken whimper left her lips.

Then—cold hands gripped her.

Magic surged, forcing her body paralyzed as a spell sealed her voice.

Tears streamed down her face as she was ripped away from Gaia's lifeless form.

Veldanava felt it the moment they took her.

A pulse in the air—a break in the harmony of the world.

He was out of breath before he even reached the halls.

Lucia ran beside him, panic filling her every step. "Milim—where's Milim!?"

Then they saw.

Gaia's still body.

And beyond—Milim, bound and helpless in the arms of their attackers.

Lucia let out a choked sob.

Veldanava stepped forward—but his body wavered.

For the first time, he felt weak.

The elves saw it.

They smirked.

"You're no god anymore, Creator."

A blade pierced through Lucia's stomach.

Veldanava's heart stopped.

Lucia stumbled—eyes wide, hands trembling as blood stained her dress.

"Lucia!"

She collapsed into his arms.

Milim, still restrained, watched in horror.

A ragged cry tried to tear from her throat—but the spell sealed her voice.

She couldn't scream.

She couldn't call for them.

She could only watch as her mother's body grew still.

Veldanava shook with grief.

Then—the final blow.

A spear of light pierced his chest.

For the first time in eternity—he felt pain.

His breath hitched. His fingers trembled.

And then—he fell.

The Creator of the world—slain.

Milim's body froze.

Her heart stopped.

And then—

Something inside her broke.

A sound escaped her lips.

A low, fractured whisper.

Then—

A scream.

It was not human.

It was rage. It was grief. It was the end of all things.

The sky split apart.

The ground quaked.

The elves—so sure of their victory—felt something they had never known before.

Fear.

Milim's eyes glowed—a blazing, furious pink.

Her body rose into the air, golden and crimson energy surging violently around her.

Her tiny hands trembled—then clenched into fists.

Power—limitless, raw, uncontrollable—flooded out of her.

And then—

The heavens fell.

Milim stood amidst the carnage, her breath ragged, her body trembling. The bodies of the elves who had stormed her home lay scattered around her—ashes in the wind, remnants of their treachery.

But it wasn't enough.

Her pain was too great.

Her mother—gone.

Her father—gone.

Gaia—gone.

She could still hear their voices.

She could still see Gaia's lifeless body, feel her mother's warmth fading in Veldanava's arms, see her father collapse for the first and last time.

The rage in her heart ignited into something greater—something final.

The elves had taken everything from her.

And so—she would take everything from them.

Milim rose into the sky and flew straight to the eleven kingdom, her pink hair whipping violently in the storm of energy surrounding her.

Her hands stretched outward, crackling with golden and crimson light.

A single word left her lips.

"Dragon Nova."

The sky blazed.

A sphere of impossible energy formed between her palms—growing, growing, growing—until the very fabric of the world trembled beneath its weight.

And then—

She hurled it downward.

The explosion was not an attack.

It was a cataclysm.

It was annihilation itself.

The elven lands—their forests, their rivers, their palaces—vanished in an instant.

No screams.

No survivors.

No more elves.

When the dust settled, the land where the elven kingdom once stood was nothing but a crater—a barren wasteland of silence.

Milim floated above it, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her face.

She had done it.

She had destroyed everything.

Yet—why did she feel so empty?

Why… was she still hurting?

She closed her eyes, gripping her chest, feeling the unbearable weight of loss.

And then—

A voice echoed through the void.

A voice that all heard.

A voice that was not of man, nor monster.

A voice that governed the Cardinal World itself.

A voice that once spoke in harmony with her father.

The air grew thick—heavy, suffocating, alive.

Milim, still hovering over the wasteland that was once the elven kingdom, felt something shift. The destruction she had wrought was not just an act of vengeance—it had been a sacrifice.

A sacrifice that the world had accepted.

And now, it would bestow its blessing.

"AMOUNT OF SOULS REQUIRED... CONFIRMED."

Milim gasped, her golden eyes widening as an invisible force coiled around her.

She could feel them—the countless souls of the elves, their lingering energy spiraling into the heavens, converging around her.

The Voice of the World continued, its tone mechanical, unwavering.

"ALL OTHER REQUIREMENTS HAVE BEEN MET..."

Her body burned.

Her very essence quaked.

The energy surged into her, flooding her veins, rewriting her existence.

She clutched her chest, her heart pounding, her mind overwhelmed by power beyond comprehension.

"THE INDIVIDUAL: MILIM NAVA..."

Her body lifted higher, arcs of energy dancing across her skin.

Her pink hair glowed, her very soul evolving.

Then—

"IS ABOUT TO BEGIN THE HARVEST FESTIVAL."

A deafening boom shook the sky.

A golden pillar of light erupted from her body, piercing the heavens. The world itself trembled as reality bent and reshaped itself around the birth of something new.

Something unstoppable.

Something divine.

And in that moment—

Milim Nava, the Daughter of Veldanava, was no longer just a child.

She was a force of nature.

A Cataclysm Incarnate.

And the world—would never be the same again.