Fourteen months had passed since the war between the Eastern and Western Bang had begun,

  and the battle had only grown more brutal with each passing day. Vasilisa, now a seasoned scout

  in the Eastern army, had become known for her ruthless efficiency. She was appointed to the 7th

  scout unit, a ragtag group of soldiers who, like many others, were now barely hanging on.

  Originally, each scout unit had 65 soldiers, but now only 32—sometimes fewer—remained

  standing. The toll of the war had been horrific, the casualties mounting daily.

  But Vasilisa, through it all, stood tall, untouched by the horrors around her. Her reputation

  spread like wildfire among the generals. She moved like a ghost, a phantom in the night, killing

  silently, leaving no trace of her presence. In one day, she had wiped out three enemy scouts

  without a sound, her movements so precise and lethal that it seemed as though she was simply

  vanishing into thin air.

  Yet despite her success, the war's brutality wore on. The Eastern general—impressed by her skill

  and cunning—began to rely on her more and more. But now, something had shifted. A new

  terror had emerged from the enemy ranks, a new force to contend with: the fifth son of Emperor

  Radomir Volkov, the demon-born with superhuman strength.

  The demon was unlike any foe Vasilisa had faced before. His power was immense, capable of

  tearing through the army with a single swing. It wasn’t long before he decimated the remaining

  scouts from the Eastern army, slaughtering them with terrifying ease. His very presence seemed

  to cause fear to grip the hearts of all who saw him.

  The Eastern general, desperate to rid his army of this insurmountable threat, offered an enormous

  sum of gold for the demon’s head. But the demon wasn’t interested in gold. He was a force of

  nature, a weapon forged by the very blood of the emperor himself. He had no need for riches.

  The remaining scouts were either wounded, dead, or in full retreat. Vasilisa, trapped in the chaos

  of battle, knew she had no choice but to lay low. But as the demon tore through the battlefield,

  she realized she could no longer stay hidden. He had found her scent, and like a predator, he

  stalked her through the carnage.

  The battle was nothing like anything she had ever faced. She was forced to confront him, but the

  fight seemed hopeless. Despite her cursed immortality—an ability to regenerate from even the

  most brutal of wounds—she felt the crushing weight of defeat bearing down on her. She was torn

  apart again and again, each death more excruciating than the last. But no matter how many times

  she died, she kept coming back, her body knitting itself together, her spirit refusing to submit.

  Her comrades fell around her, their screams echoing in her ears, but the demon was relentless.

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  His massive fists crushed soldiers, his eyes burning with a savage hunger. Vasilisa, in her

  immortality, had become a symbol of fearlessness. But in this moment, she felt the smallest

  flicker of doubt—could she defeat him?

  She had no choice. If she didn’t, this war would become her tomb. She would be swallowed

  whole by the very thing she had been running from her entire life: fate.

  She fought with everything she had left. Her body was torn apart, again and again, but each time

  she returned stronger, more determined. Finally, in the chaos of their deadly dance, something

  clicked inside her. In the final, brutal moments of the battle, as the demon came at her for the last

  time, she knew this was her chance. She lunged forward, her weapon sinking deep into his flesh.

  The demon, stunned by her relentless will, fell to the ground, his monstrous body crumpling with

  a resounding thud. His last breath escaped him like the death rattle of a beast brought low by a

  stronger force.

  Vasilisa stood over him, her chest heaving with exhaustion. But there was something else—

  something deep within her, pulling at her. As the demon’s body lay still before her, an

  overwhelming hunger surged through her. She could feel it—an ancient, primal urge.

  Without thinking, without hesitation, Vasilisa bent over the demon’s body. Her eyes locked on

  his heart. She was drawn to it, as though it held some forbidden power, some essence that called

  to her. The warmth of the blood, the pulsing rhythm of life that had once been his... It was too

  much to resist.

  With a guttural growl, she tore into his chest, ripping out his heart. The taste was intoxicating, an

  explosion of power that flooded her senses. She devoured the heart, her body trembling with the

  energy coursing through her veins. It was then that she understood—this was no ordinary

  consumption. She had absorbed something more than just flesh. She had taken in his blessing,

  his strength.

  The power surged through her, overwhelming and intoxicating. She felt stronger than ever, her

  body pulsing with the same superhuman strength that had once belonged to the demon. It was

  her blessing now. She had claimed it.

  The moment passed, and Vasilisa stood, victorious but trembling. The battlefield was silent now,

  save for the distant cries of the wounded. She had survived, and more than that, she had gained

  something she never thought possible. She was no longer the same. She had become a force of

  nature herself.

  As the sun set over the battlefield, Vasilisa knew one thing for certain: this was only the

  beginning. The power she had just claimed would serve her. It would give her the strength she

  needed to fulfill her vow.

  She would get her revenge. She would bring the world to its knees.

  And no one—no one—could stop her.