Let's Train Heroine

The air itself seemed to darken as Z'thraag lumbered across the land, his massive body dripping with oozing, corrosive acid that seeped from every pore. With every step, the ground beneath him hissed and boiled, turning from fertile soil to barren, cracked wasteland.

Once-vibrant plants shriveled and blackened in his wake, and entire fields that had once been used to grow crops were reduced to smoking ash within seconds. The sickness spread quickly—people who lived in nearby villages could only watch in horror as the very earth beneath their feet turned to poison.

As Z'thraag approached, the air grew thick with the acrid stench of decay. The demon's body was grotesque—fat, bulbous, and twisted beyond comprehension, his single enormous eye staring out from a misshapen head. Acid constantly leaked from his body, sizzling against the ground, and any living thing that came too close died almost instantly, consumed by the deadly vapors that surrounded him.

Z'thraag was far more than just a demon—he was a Kingdom-class entity, a living nightmare capable of wiping entire nations from existence. The Moon Light Country was his destination, but in his path, another country fell.

Falstad was a once-proud country, filled with bustling towns and proud citizens. Z'thraag passed through it like a force of nature, leaving nothing behind but the cries of the dead and the sickening stench of rotting bodies. Dozens of adventurers—brave warriors, mages, and fighters—had tried to stop him. But they were nothing to him. He didn't even need to break a sweat.

SSS-Class adventurers, the strongest of their ranks, gathered in desperation, hoping to stem the tide of his destruction. They were powerful, each capable of taking down entire armies on their own, but Z'thraag was different. He didn't just kill them. He played with them, laughed at their futile attempts to harm him as his massive hands smashed them like insects.

Some he crushed with his fists, others he burned alive with his acidic touch, their screams echoing across the land as they dissolved into nothingness.

To Z'thraag, Julia and her team had been nothing but a passing amusement. If he'd wanted, he could have obliterated them without a second thought, but that wouldn't have been any fun. He enjoyed the struggle, the fear, the moment of realization when they understood just how helpless they were.

And now, he was on the move again, heading straight for Moon Light Country.

As Z'thraag passed through the desolate land, a shadow loomed ahead—a wide, barren expanse known as No Man's Land. No kingdom claimed it, for it was a wasteland where nothing grew, a land without life. But today, Z'thraag wasn't alone. Standing in his path, framed by the endless horizon, was a figure—a single woman.

She was breathtaking, a vision of grace and power. Her long, flowing black hair shimmered in the dim sunlight, cascading down her back in silky waves. She wore a traditional kimono, a deep indigo fabric adorned with intricate gold embroidery. The kimono wrapped her slender frame perfectly, the obi tied tight around her waist. In one hand, she held a katana, its blade gleaming with a deadly light.

Her eyes, sharp and focused, locked onto Z'thraag with unwavering determination.

Her name was Yamashiro Akane, a warrior from the Light Tempest Kingdom. She was no ordinary woman—she was Kingdom-class, one of the few beings in the world powerful enough to face a creature like Z'thraag head-on. Her presence exuded confidence, a calm strength that belied the danger she faced.

As Z'thraag came closer, Akane narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening on the hilt of her katana. She knew what she was up against. She had heard about it, seen the destruction, but this was her duty. She had been sent to stop him, and she would do everything in her power to fulfill that mission.

Z'thraag's voice rumbled through the air, low and guttural, like the grinding of stones deep beneath the earth. "Who... are you?"

Her focus on Z'thraag, and she spoke, her voice clear and commanding. "It doesn't matter who I am. What matters is that you will go no further. From now on, you will stop here and buried."

Z'thraag let out a deep, booming laugh, his massive form shaking with amusement. "Buried?" he sneered, his single eye glaring down at her. "You dare bury me?"

Akane's face remained impassive. "Yes "

With a deafening roar, Z'thraag lunged at Akane, his massive hand swinging toward her with enough force to crush a mountain. But she was faster. With a graceful step, she dodged to the side, her katana flashing as she struck at his arm.

The blade sliced through his flesh, and for a moment, Akane thought she had him. But Z'thraag's body was different. His skin, if it could even be called that, was like molten stone, thick and impenetrable. The blade barely left a mark, and what little damage she caused quickly healed over, the acid that leaked from his body sealing the wound.

Z'thraag's eye narrowed. "You think you can hurt me?"

Akane leaped back, her sword held in a defensive stance, but Z'thraag was already upon her. His fist crashed into the ground where she stood, sending shockwaves through the earth. She barely managed to avoid the brunt of the attack, but the force of it knocked her off balance, sending her skidding across the ground.

Before she could recover, Z'thraag was on her again. His hand wrapped around her torso, lifting her into the air as if she weighed nothing. His grip tightened, and Akane gasped as the air was forced from her lungs. The acid from his skin burned through her clothes, searing her flesh, and she let out a cry of pain.

Z'thraag grinned, his voice dripping with malice. "Let's see how beautiful you are when I'm done with you."

With a sickening squelch, Z'thraag's other hand came up and swiped across her face. The acid burned through her skin, melting the flesh away in an instant. Akane screamed, the pain overwhelming, as her once-beautiful face was reduced to a mass of raw, bubbling flesh. Her vision blurred, and she could feel her skin dripping away, the acid eating through muscle and bone.

Z'thraag wasn't done.

He slammed her into the ground, the impact shattering the bones in her arms. Akane screamed again, her voice hoarse from the pain, but Z'thraag only laughed. He reached down, grabbing her broken arm, and twisted. The bone snapped, the sound echoing through the barren land as he ripped her arm from her body. Stay updated with empire

Akane's vision swam, her mind barely able to comprehend the agony she was in. She had trained for years, prepared herself for any battle, but nothing had prepared her for this. She had always prided herself on her strength, her ability to withstand anything. But this... this was beyond anything she had ever imagined.

Z'thraag took his time, savoring every moment of her suffering. He moved on to her other arm, breaking it slowly, methodically, before tearing it off as well. Blood poured from the stumps where her arms had once been, soaking the ground beneath her.

Z'thraag wasn't done.

But still, he wasn't done.

With brutal efficiency, he moved to her legs, snapping them one by one. The bones shattered beneath his hands, and Akane screamed, her voice raw and desperate. Her once-graceful limbs were now nothing but mangled flesh and broken bone.

When he was finished, Z'thraag stood over her, his eye gleaming with satisfaction. Akane lay on the ground, her body broken and mutilated, her face a melted ruin. She could barely breathe, her chest heaving with shallow, labored breaths as she clung to the last threads of consciousness.

Her mind drifted in and out, flashes of her life flickering before her eyes. She had once been a proud warrior, a woman of strength and beauty. Now, she was nothing but a broken shell, left to die in the wasteland she had tried to protect.

Z'thraag knelt beside her, his voice a low growl. "You thought you could stop me? You thought you were strong?"

Akane couldn't answer. She could barely think. The pain was too much, too overwhelming.

Z'thraag stood, his task complete. He had enjoyed himself, yes. But now, it was time to move on.

As he turned to leave, he looked down at her one last time. "Your world will burn," he said.