Maya's Training

  A dull crack rang out—Maya’s forearm had taken the blow.

  Just before Beatrice's punch could crush her face, Maya managed to raise her guard. She rolled across the padded floor, putting distance between them and scrambling back to her feet.

  But she was barely standing. Her legs trembled uncontrollably just from facing Beatrice.

  “You sacrificed your arm to block the strike—acceptable. But Maya... your breathing is all over the place. Have you already forgotten the ether breathing I taught you? Without mastering it, you’ll never grasp Duality Martial Arts.”

  Beatrice’s voice cut through her haze. Maya forced herself to recall the method.

  (Draw in ether from the cosmos through the crown chakra, let it pool in the Svadhisthana chakra, just below the navel...)

  She shifted her focus to breathing—remembering that she wasn’t surviving alone, but sustained by the flow of universal energy. Women, especially Returners, were said to be better at receiving ether. Beatrice had just explained that.

  The pain in her arm dulled slightly. Her fear eased. A faint warmth spread through her battered body.

  “Learn to breathe like that even in your sleep. And especially during combat.”

  Beatrice vanished from Maya’s vision. A blink later, she was behind her.

  “This is Shadow Step. A footwork technique that lets you close distance in an instant. You still have much to learn.”

  Maya flinched, bracing for a strike from behind—but it never came. Instead, she felt Beatrice’s silent intention: she was here to teach.

  “Your arm’s fractured. You’ll need Emma to heal it. Until then, focus on ether breathing and mastering Shadow Step.”

  It was the first time Maya truly understood—Beatrice was serious about making her stronger.

  “I understand. Please continue to guide me.”

  Looking straight into Beatrice’s eyes, Maya felt—for the first time—the desire to live up to her expectations.

  For the first time, Maya wasn’t just enduring the pain—she welcomed it. Because she would need this strength.

  Clara’s Room

  Clara was smiling through tears.

  Victoria silently watched her. When Emma moved to use Healing Palm, Victoria gently stopped her, instructing her to focus on treating Clara’s back instead.

  “You’ve suffered something unspeakable, haven’t you? It’s still hurting you, even now.”

  Victoria’s Exceed, Pulseveil, was reading Clara’s emotions with perfect clarity.

  “Isn’t it ridiculous?” Clara said, laughing bitterly. “My friends were slaughtered. I was killed too. And then I got brought back—just to be tortured all over again. What kind of joke is that? What’s the point of living if it’s only to be butchered again? I... I want to die. Right now.”

  She sobbed, lips curling upward in a grotesque parody of a smile. Snot dripped freely from her nose, and she made no move to wipe it.

  Victoria knelt in front of her.

  “I know it’s painful, Clara. So I’ll be blunt. The students you went to Lumen Dei with—the ones still alive—they’re about to be slaughtered by Ezekiel. Do you think that’s ridiculous, too?”

  Clara froze. Her twisted smile vanished.

  “No... no, please... not again... don’t kill anyone else... it’s too cruel…”

  She was about to scream, but Victoria pressed a finger gently to her lips.

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  “I’m sorry. That was harsh. But the threat is real. We’re not all-powerful, but we can still act—before it’s too late. We’re going to kill Ezekiel. And the headmaster who allowed this.”

  Victoria’s voice rang with authority. It cut through Clara’s despair.

  “You don’t understand. No one can fight that monster!” Clara cried.

  “You’re a kind soul, Clara. I know you are. That’s why I’m asking. I have an ability that lets me see into people’s memories. If you let me see the moment Ezekiel killed you and your friends, we might be able to prepare. But only if you agree. This is your decision.”

  Victoria’s ice-blue eyes shimmered.

  “…My friends…”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to avenge them. And me. I don’t want anyone else to die because of him…”

  Clara’s tears fell in silent torrents.

  “I swear I will,” Victoria said firmly.

  “Then… please look. See what happened to us.”

  Clara’s voice shook as the memories came flooding back.

  “Thank you. I’ll hold your right hand, Clara.”

  Emma took Victoria’s other hand, bracing her against the trauma she was about to absorb.

  Victoria’s eyes glowed. Echoveil activated.

  The world dissolved into light, and when it reformed, Victoria was no longer in the shelter room. She was inside Clara’s memory.

  Clara – Then

  Clara was a first-year at Lumen Dei Academy. She’d been part of the choir since childhood. She loved to sing, and by middle school, she was often chosen as a lead.

  But she was never arrogant. What made her happiest was singing together with her friends.

  (We’ll be singing Christmas hymns here next time...)

  She beamed at the thought. Just then, her wrist communicator buzzed.

  (You’re late! We’re waiting on the 12th floor!)

  (Oh no—the vice principal summoned me today...!)

  Panic set in. Clara ran out of the music hall.

  Main Tower

  The 12-story building at the heart of Lumen Dei. The 13th floor was the headmaster’s private sanctuary.

  Clara passed the ID check, took the elevator up, and knocked.

  “Come in,” a calm voice said.

  “I’m so sorry for being late!” she apologized sincerely.

  Inside, the room was lined with Valkyrie statues—grand, mythic. And there stood a tall man, maybe in his forties, wearing an elegant suit. His amethyst-purple eyes marked him as none other than Ezekiel Balthazar, the newly appointed vice principal.

  “Anticipation makes beauty all the sweeter. I’ve gathered the finest voices of the choir today—Clara Whitman, thank you for coming.”

  He smiled and sat.

  (He’s... so kind. He’s not angry at all...)

  In the misogynistic world of Lumen Dei, where men ruled and women obeyed, Ezekiel seemed like a rare exception—a gentle man.

  There were five girls in the room, including Clara. They were close friends.

  (What took you so long?)

  (Let me guess, back at the hall again?)

  (Come on, we’re starting.)

  Their silent glances spoke volumes.

  Margot began to play the piano, and the choir started to sing.

  Their voices blended, divine and holy, filling the mythic room with sacred resonance.

  Clara felt pure joy.

  Then... her throat tingled.

  She forced herself to keep singing. (It’s just nerves. I have to sing my best for him.)

  Suddenly, Albina collapsed forward.

  Christelle dropped to her knees, drooling uncontrollably.

  The piano slammed into discord and stopped—Margot had fallen off her bench, seizing.

  Meida tumbled backward, shivering violently.

  Clara remained standing—but paralyzed. Drool dripped from her lips. She couldn’t blink. Couldn’t move.

  (What... what’s happening?!)

  Ezekiel smiled—pure, radiant joy.

  “Roughly fifteen minutes to saturate a room this size with the paralytic. It’ll vary, of course, depending on whether the subject is human or a Returner.”

  His words were meaningless to Clara.

  “But it would be cruel not to explain. You deserve to know what’s happening. And what comes next.”

  He began to undress.

  Clara could only watch, horrified, as his arms mutated—each growing into two massive anacondas.

  Four monstrous serpents locked eyes on her and her friends.

  “Well now, Clara Whitman. You were the last to arrive, so I’ll save you for last. Watch closely. You might awaken to something... delightful.”

  Smiling, one serpent coiled around her waist and sat her down so she could see everything.

  Clara couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t shut her eyes.

  “Let’s begin.”

  One by one, the serpents tore into the paralyzed girls.

  If they had been able, they would’ve begged. Run. Fought.

  Instead, they were slammed, crushed, and torn apart before Clara’s eyes.

  She wanted to scream. To call their names. To stop him.

  But she could do nothing.

  “To strip someone of resistance and inflict pain—that is how dominance is achieved,” Ezekiel said reverently, as though delivering scripture.

  “You see, Clara, men have always conquered through pain and submission, as it was in the age of kings and saints. Dominance is not cruelty, Clara—it’s a divine right. And now, you will help me prove it.”

  He stared down at her body—head to toe.

  “Ever since I took this form, it’s been hard to control my urges. How do you think you’ll satisfy mine?”

  One serpent’s fangs grazed her throat.

  Inside, Clara was screaming.

  (I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die… but I can’t move…)

  “Her tears slid down her cheeks, but she couldn’t even blink to stop them.”

  Victoria – Now

  “Gghh...!”

  Blood streamed from Victoria’s eyes, ears, and nose.

  Emma had expected this. She pressed Healing Palm to Victoria’s head—but the bleeding didn’t stop.

  Victoria reached for a towel, trembling, and pressed it to her face.

  Emma stood, placing both hands on the back of Victoria’s skull.

  Ten minutes passed.

  Victoria finally wiped her face. Her features still stained, her eyes swollen from crying.

  “Clara.”

  Her voice was deathly cold.

  “Yes. I... I couldn’t do anything…”

  Clara was crying too.

  “It wasn’t your fault. He’ll die. I won’t let him live another second.”

  Victoria’s voice echoed in the room—frostbitten and absolute.

  HELL’S RETURNERS.

  check out my Substack article here:

  https://open.substack.com/pub/knishi2050/p/why-i-wrote-hells-returners?r=5wfkgu&utm_medium=ios)

  I'm really honored you stayed with Maya's journey this far.

  There's a lot more to come, and your support means everything ??