In a grand castle, nestled in a village where stories were told with passion, there was one tale that always captured the imagination of the people. It wasn't about heroes who slayed monsters or conquered kingdoms. No, it was about the legendary warrior Lianhua. Her name was known far and wide, a legend who wielded a sword like no other, unmatched in her skill.
Her age was a mystery. Some claimed she was young, others said she could be centuries old. What was certain was her strength and the way she fought for the helpless, for the poor who couldn't defend themselves. There was no evil too great for her to face. But, of course, not everyone admired her. The Demon King despised her, swearing to end her life, but as history tells it, one day, both Lianhua and the Demon King disappeared without a trace. Their armor, their swords, and even their legacies seemed to vanish as if they never existed.
Some believed they were dead. Others said they simply gave up, choosing to walk away from the battles they had fought for so long. But even now, a century later, whispers of their legend continued to swirl through the winds of time. People still talked as if the final chapter had yet to be written, waiting for the return of the warrior who had once fought so fiercely.
I, on the other hand, was just a normal girl. Or at least, that's what I thought. My name was Eloula, and I was 19 years old. Yet, there was something unusual about me. I couldn't remember anything from the first 17 years of my life. The doctors said I had fallen and hit my head, causing the memory loss and my neck was severely injured, leaving me with a deep scar.
I lived with an adopted family in the Imperial Palace, as my father worked for the emperor. While we were granted the privilege of living there, we were never allowed to meet the emperor. My father's work kept him busy, and I often found myself with my step-sister, Liora. She was, by all means, family to me, though she had a way of getting on my nerves.
Liora looked just dont like me—blonde hair, green eyes, a perfect image of beauty she was 21 years old . On the other hand, I had black hair that fell to my hands and dark brown eyes. Despite our differences, I never let it bother me. We had a strange connection, one that was closer than blood.
One morning, as I woke up in a daze, I felt something was off. It was just like any other morning—except Liora came barging into my room, shouting, "ELOULA, GET UP NOW!"
I groaned, still half-asleep, not understanding why I had to be up so early.
"Father has an important appointment today, and we need to make a good impression," she said, pulling me out of bed. Without waiting for me to respond, she began fixing my hair and helping me into a fine dress.
As we made our way through the corridors of the palace, Liora whispered, "Eloula, remember, behave yourself."
I nodded, but deep down, I wasn't sure how well that would go.
When we reached our parents' room, Father stood up and introduced us: "This is Liora, the eldest, and Eloula, the youngest."
He smiled at us warmly, and we all sat down. Our mother looked at us with pride, but I could barely focus. They began discussing business matters with a group of merchants. The emperor was mentioned several times, and the talk dragged on for what felt like an eternity. My eyelids were growing heavy, and I was on the verge of falling asleep. That was, until Liora nudged me each time my head dipped.
The conversation continued for about 30 minutes. When the tea arrived, one of the businessmen glanced at me and said, "Eloula, you don't look like your sister at all or your parents. your clearly adopted. It's obvious."
My parents exchanged a look, and Liora stared at the man in shock. I felt a surge of anger rise within me. Without thinking, I stood up and shot back, "Well, you don't look like someone with any manners either, yet here I am, saying nothing."
The man was taken aback by my response. Liora immediately tried to pull me back down, but I wasn't having it. I shrugged her off and muttered, "Fine, I'm leaving."
Without waiting for anyone to stop me, I stormed out of the room. I hurried to my chambers, threw on a simple outfit, and fled the palace. The fresh air outside was a relief, and I walked away from the chaos I had just left behind.
I wandered through the village, lost in my thoughts. The market was bustling with people haggling for goods. The sounds of the village were comforting, and for a brief moment, I felt like I belonged. My mind, however, kept drifting back to the strange conversation. What if I was more than just the adopted daughter of the emperor's servant?
As I walked further, I passed a stall with various weapons on display—large, small, sharp, blunt—each sword more finely crafted than the last. The vendor, a gruff man, noticed my interest and called out, "These aren't for women. They're not like dolls."
I couldn't help but laugh at the audacity of it all. "I may not be a warrior, but I could certainly show you that I'm not someone to be underestimated."
The vendor didn't respond, his face stoic. But before I could say anything else, I heard a scream.
"LET ME GO, YOU DISGUSTING MAN!"
I turned around, only to see Liora, struggling in the grasp of a man. He was pushing her to the ground, and she was crying for help, shouting for someone to save her.
My heart raced. This man wasn't just harassing her—he was trying to harm her.
What should I do? I heard a voice in my head, almost as if it were speaking directly to me.
And then it hit me: Attack him now.
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