The Queen Who Fights Back (by Lily Hastings) novel Chapter 151

Chapter 151

“What did you say?”

The canyon at dusk was loud with wind, and the sun was nearly setting.

The night was almost here, wild gusts making the scalp tingle.

Madan was almost whispering–one could barely catch what he said over all that noise.

Not minding the wind at all, Maria yelled out, all laid–back and blunt.

She didn’t catch what Madan said over the wind.

“Nothing, probably just my imagination…” Madan waved his hand quickly, his face tightening up.

Maybe it was because for over half a year now, Bloodforge–his ultimate idol–had basically vanished off the face of the earth, not a single word out there about her.

The grapevine hadn’t buzzed with tales of her legendary exploits in more than a year.

Was he seriously imagining things now?

He was actually starting to think this skinny girl just might have the same vibe as his legendary idol.

Madan let out a bitter smile, thinking to himself:

‘Madan, this is hilarious. I must be blind to even mix her up with someone like Bloodforge.

‘At this rate, if Bloodforge herself showed up right in front of you…

‘You probably wouldn’t even realize who she was, huh?

‘The Bloodforge I pictured is this strong, musclebound woman–not some tiny little girl.‘

*****

“Whoooo,” the wind howled, its voice echoing through the canyon.

“Swish, swish,” leaves and branches rustled wildly, whipped about by the gusts.

The sunset clung to the horizon, draping the sky in vivid, electric shades that made everything pulse with life.

The gale tore through the canyon, making grasses and trees everywhere bend and shudder.

The deeper the night grew, the colder the air became.

Nova darted through the dense forest, every step silent and swift–barely a whisper under the cover of trees.

The darkness all around felt like a crouching beast, its jaws open wide, just waiting for prey to stumble in.

She pieced together her path from the scattered footprints, the bushes blasted apart by gunfire, and streaks of blood smeared across the ground.

With all these signs pointing the way, Nova was sure of it now–the real fight was up ahead, high above on the left side of the

canyon.

Nova raced through the thick underbrush, speeding toward the high ridge of the canyon, her movements swift and silent.

When she was about halfway up.

“Rat–tat–tat, rat–tat–tat-

Suddenly, machine gun fire ripped through the darkness, the jungle exploding like a beast baring its jaws wide.

But Nova didn’t do what her attacker in the darkness expected–instead of diving for cover, she darted straight ahead

Her agile figure shot forward like a panther, slick as lightning, slipping past the ambush with easy grace.

Before she got here, Nova picked up some guns and ainmo from a shady arms dealer off the streets of Kata City.

They couldn’t compare to her own stash–the weapons she’d custom–built and tweaked herself–but they’d do in a pinch.

Since busting out of Devil’s Isle and making it back to Zoria, she hadn’t unleashed carnage on a scale like this in a long time.

But now….

After dodging the burst of machine gun fire from the shadows, Nova quickly propped herself up, chambered a round in her P229, and fired a shot straight into the darkness.

The whole area was shrouded in darkness–once the sun had set, night covered everything in black.

She had to rely on the direction of the machine gun fire to figure out where her attacker was hiding.

“Pop!”

In the pitch–black, her shot punched straight through her target’s skull–a wet, brutal sound, then the lifeless body crashed to the ground with a dull thump.

“Rat–tat–tat-”

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

As the body dropped, the treetops above lit up with a fresh burst of machine gun and rifle fire–one after another, relentless.

The barrage didn’t let up for a second.

Nova wasn’t just facing one shooter; there were more lying in wait, locked in on her.

Nova leaped into the nearest bushes, weaving through a stream of bullets that chased after her every step.

At the same moment, she fished out a shadowy grenade from her pocket.

With her back to the sweeping gunfire, Nova’s red lips set in a firm line, and she bit the pin off the grenade in one swift, practiced motion.

She flung it back over her shoulder, nonchalant, never bothering to look where it landed.

“BOOM-”

The dark forest was suddenly swallowed up by a sheet of fire.

The trees and underbrush all around sparked into a wildfire in an instant, the grenade’s blast setting everything ablaze.

The whole place went up in flames.

The blaze lit up the canyon, turning night into blazing day.

In the blaze, you could see four Bloodblade mercs lying on the ground, blown to pieces–just bloody, mangled wreckage.

Three of them were dead on the spot.

The last one was barely alive, struggling for breath and fading fast.

The Bloodblade mercs were ice–cold under pressure. Even with his stomach, thigh, and arm torn open and blood pouring out, that last survivor refused to drop–he held on with pure grit.

He gritted his teeth, fighting through the pain, and fished a walkie–talkie out of his jacket.

With the last of his strength, he tried to radio his commander–the one who’d sent them after Nova–desperately scrambling to report the hellscape unfolding around him.

“Thud.”

Before he could even flip the walkie–talkie on, Nova slammed her boot down on his mangled arm with cold, ruthless precision.

The walkie–talkie dropped from his twitching fingers, bouncing roughly down the canyon slope with a sharp, metallic

clatter.

“Boom!”

Nova’s face was stone cold–she planted one boot on the mercenary’s bloody arm, the other pressing down, locking his neck in place.

Without even glancing down, she squeezed her legs together, snapping his neck with effortless precision.

The mercenary was dead before he could even make a sound.

After finishing them off,

Nova shot a cold glance up toward the canyon’s high rim, then burst forward, never slowing, her figure slicing through the shadows.

*****

Down at the bottom of the canyon, a few low–level Bloodblade mercs were hanging around on guard.

Madan, plus four guild mercs and the whole caravan, still hadn’t moved out.

They, including Maria and Jake, caught all of it, clear as day.

Halfway up the canyon, there was this sudden boom and flash, gone so fast it was like someone set off a firework up there.

“Did she… really die?” Maria mumbled, half–dazed, her voice thin and shaky.

She squeezed her hands so tight that her knuckles turned white, staring blankly ahead.

Everyone else looked just as spooked—it seemed like nobody doubted that thought, not for a second.

*****

At the very top of the canyon, right near the cliff edge, two groups stood off, tension crackling in the air.

One group was led by a towering middle–aged man, fifty–three years old and six feet ten inches tall.

Surrounding him were numerous mercenaries, each holding an M733 assault rifle.

Among them were three elite mercenaries, ten regular mercenaries, and twenty rookie mercenaries from Bloodblade Corps -all lined up and ready.

Of course, this middle–aged man wasn’t Snowfang.

He didn’t have the clout of Ghost–Hammer’s crew, but his influence was right up there. As one of the seniors who brought key combat skills into Bloodblade, he was a seasoned veteran that everyone respected.

They called him Monde Lanche.

Behind a massive rock in front of Monde, a blood–drenched brute lay sprawled facedown, dripping crimson and barely holding onto life.

He was a thick, six–foot–two–inch giant, his eyes bloodshot and wild, like he hadn’t slept in days.

His thick black beard was clumped together, matted with blood.

His body was a mess of bullet holes and knife wounds, and they were patched up in a hurry–he looked more like a corpse than a living man.

If it weren’t for the faint glimmer in his eyes, anyone would’ve thought he was already dead.

One’d never recognize that blood–soaked brute as the same apron–wearing, careful giant as before.

“Ghost–Hammer! Your time’s almost up. Got anything to spit out before you croak?” Monde jeered, a grin twisting his lips. “This idiot thinks he can last another minute? Not a chance,‘ he gloated to himself.

Monde was clutching his walkie–talkie when the explosion echoed up the canyon. ‘Hmph, probably nothing but some cannon fodder getting wiped out,’ he thought.

Monde barely paid any attention to it, brushing it off like background noise.

He figured his crew had already handled that clueless girl who’d blundered headfirst into the canyon.

He kept his eyes locked on Ghost–Hammer, who was crouched behind a boulder, and snickered smugly.

“We gave you a chance, but you were the fool who pissed it all away! You really thought that woman could be your boss?

“Nobody dared touch you when she was around. But now…

“She’s been gone for almost a year! You get what that means, right? Most likely she’s dead and buried!

“Still clinging to the legacy of a woman who’s probably pushing up daisies? If you don’t die, who will?”

Ghost–Hammer never let slip to Bloodblade’s crew that Nova was alive and kicking in Zoria.

Some of the Bloodblade veterans figured Nova had long since bit the dust.

Monde was one of them.

He glared at Ghost–Hammer crouched behind the rock, a vicious, mocking grin twisting his face.

“You’ve only got one bullet left and you haven’t eaten in three damn days. Even if that Bloodforge chick’s somehow still breathing, you really think she’s gonna swoop in here and save your sorry ass?

“Heh!

“That woman never gave a damn about her own people! She’s cold, selfish, ruthless–she doesn’t give a crap about anybody!

“Since you’re so hung up on her, why don’t you just go die with her?”

Monde swung his arm down, barking, “Get him! Go, now!”

Behind the massive boulder, Ghost–Hammer was still clutching his pistol, stubbornly refusing to let go.

Only one bullet left. That was all he had.

‘Already… running on fumes,‘ Ghost–Hammer thought, his mind swimming in and out.

‘Am I really tapped out here…? Can’t hold on much longer…

‘Boss, sorry… Looks like I’m headed out to see Marlie, and maybe finally have it out with that punk, Falcony, in the next world, Ghost–Hammer thought, a crooked smile flickering across his lips.

‘From now on, it’s all on you. Hope you can keep pushing through, even if I’m not there…

The last bullet wasn’t for the enemy–it was Ghost–Hammer’s last ticket out if he ever found himself truly cornered.

Out in the battlefield, sometimes dying was a hell of a lot kinder than getting caught and tortured or grilled for answers.

It’s a creed among mercenaries–when the fight’s really over, you keep one round for yourself. Better to end it on your own terms than get snatched up by the enemy.

Ghost–Hammer’s bloody hand shook as he lifted the gun, his muscle–bound arm tense, pressing the cold barrel right against his own forehead.

Just as Monde and his squad were about to rush the boulder,

right before Ghost–Hammer could pull the trigger—

“Rat–tat–tat-”

A storm of machine gun fire ripped through the air, echoing across the canyon.

Monde’s guys didn’t even get a chance to react–they were cut down before they knew what hit them.

From the depths of hell itself, a bloodthirsty female voice crashed into the chaos; sounding just like a demon returned for

vengeance.

“Monde! You senile bastard, you’ve got some nerve slaughtering my men right in front of me! You’re really itching to die, aren’t you?

“This canyon is about to become your burial ground–every last one of your men dies here tonight!”