The desert wind howled like a ravenous beast, sending up spirals of red dust against the backdrop of a dying sun. On the horizon, ancient shards of glass and steel glimmered under the flickering light—relics of a forgotten age when humanity ruled the Earth, now swallowed by the sands of a new and ruthless world. Above it all loomed the remains of a great monolith, its jagged silhouette casting long shadows across the wasteland. A solitary figure emerged from the chaos, her outline sharp against the fractured vista.
Her dress—a white garment trimmed with pink—clashed jarringly with the stark brutality of the world around her. The uniform was pristine, tailored impeccably to fit her lean, athletic frame, and it moved with a fluidity that suggested more than mere fabric. Her black gloves, slick and polished, caught the crimson light as she adjusted the pink cross perched on the cap atop her head. Thigh-high stockings, equally black, clung to her legs like shadows, a contradiction of elegance and dominance. The vivid red braid that trailed down her back seemed to burn against the ruins, framing her face, pale as moonlight, with piercing ochre-yellow eyes that seemed to see secrets buried beneath centuries of sand.
The dead leaves of an old world swirled around her boots—fitted, polished to a void-like shine—as she approached the base of the monolith. A circle of ancient glyphs, carved into the stone centuries ago by hands that had long since turned to dust, shimmered faintly. She knelt, trailing one gloved finger over the faded carvings. The faint hum of mechanical whispers filled the air, neither alive nor dead but something caught in-between. The symbols responded to her presence, flaring momentarily before dulling to silence. She smiled—a sharp, knowing curve of lips that held no warmth—and stood, brushing sand from her knees.
“You’re late,” a voice echoed, sharp and metallic. Its origin was a figure perched atop the ruins of the old monolith. He was clad in a patchwork of armored plates, scavenged from what looked like remnants of war. A ragged crimson cape fluttered behind him, torn at the edges. “I thought even ghosts of the Old World valued punctuality.”
“Perhaps,” she replied, her tone smooth but steeped in quiet menace. She took a slow step forward, her heels crunching softly against the cracked earth. “But I find patience makes the prey taste better.”
The man tensed, gripping the hilt of a jagged blade strapped to his side, its serrated edges glowing faintly blue. His mismatched armor clinked as he dropped from the edge of the ruin, landing gracefully in the sand several paces from her. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his face shrouded by a visor scarred with centuries of exposure to the wilds. Despite the obvious battle-worn detail of his armor, he exuded an aura of confidence—and for good reason. Few dared to barter with her kind. Fewer still walked away.
“You underestimate me, then,” the man said, his voice a low growl now. “I’ve faced heretics who’ve fallen farther than you. Hell, I’ve killed gods.”
Her grin grew wider, more feral, as she tilted her head. “And yet here you are, meeting a devil in the shape of a nurse. Tell me, how does it feel to know the last face you’ll see is one of mercy?”
Without warning, he charged forward, the blade in his hand flashing with unholy light. Sand erupted behind him, his boots churning in a storm of motion. But she didn’t flinch. Instead, she stood her ground, waiting until the moment his blade whistled toward her neck before moving. Her movements were as fluid and precise as a surgeon’s scalpel, sidestepping his strike and twisting behind him in a blur. Her gloved hand darted out and caught his wrist like steel catching glass.
“Tsk, tsk,” she whispered, tightening her grip until the blade clattered to the ground. “You’re playing a game you can’t win.”
With an effortless flick of her arm, she sent him sprawling into the sand. He sprang to his feet instantly, but she was already there, her black-gloved hand gripping his throat. She hoisted him effortlessly into the air, as though he weighed no more than a feather. His visor cracked under the pressure, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes filled with panic.
“The monolith,” he choked, clawing at her arm. “You don’t understand. If you awaken it—”
“Understand?” she interrupted, her voice ringing with icy contempt. “I’m not here to understand. I’m here to end.”
For a fleeting moment, the monolith behind them came to life, its glyphs blazing with fiery light that painted the sands in shades of crimson and gold. The air grew heavier, charged with a power too ancient to comprehend. She released the man, letting him collapse to the ground, gasping, and turned back toward the glowing relic. Her silhouette against the roaring light was almost divine, like a goddess descending into the mortal plane. In her hand, a blade—sleek, black as the void, and pulsing with an inner crimson glow—materialized from nowhere.
“You were right about one thing,” she said, without looking back. “Killing gods is what I do.”
And with that, she plunged the blade into the heart of the monolith. The world erupted in chaos.
The sands screamed as if alive, a cyclone of destruction tearing through the ancient ruins. The man staggered to his feet, shielding his face from the storm as he watched her—a lone figure, standing amidst oblivion, her red braid whipping in the chaos like a banner of war.
When the storm subsided, nothing of the monolith remained except blackened glass craters and the echoes of its final scream. The woman turned to the man, who stared at her in disbelief, his visor shattered, his weapon forgotten in the sand. Her eyes burned brighter now, twin suns set within a flawless, smiling face.
“Well?” she asked, adjusting the pink cross on her cap. “Are you coming, or would you rather die here? Your choice.”
He hesitated only for a second before nodding, stumbling after her as she walked into the shadow of the horizon, her white dress a beacon of eerie light against the world’s ruin.
Genre: Dark Fantasy / Post-Apocalyptic Epic
The Source…check out the article that inspired this amazing short story: Makima Nurse Costume: Cosplay Ideas That Command the Spotlight
Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links. If you click on these links and make a purchase, we may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Our recommendations and reviews are always independent and objective, aiming to provide you with the best information and resources.
Exclusive Stories, Photos, Art & Offers - Subscribe Today!
Post Comment