The shockwave from Bella's final, golden-light-infused kick didn't just obliterate the Abomination—it rattled the sky itself.
Up above, the media helicopters that had been circling the Manhattan Bridge were caught in the blast's turbulent aftermath. The rotor blades wobbled violently as the craft rocked midair. The pilot struggled to stabilize the aircraft while the reporter clung desperately to the safety rail, her hair whipped into a frenzy by the gale.
The cameraman beside her clutched the rig with both hands, refusing to miss a second of the once-in-a-lifetime footage.
But despite the danger, neither of them showed fear.
They were still frozen by what they had just witnessed.
It wasn't just them—everyone was. The entire world, it seemed, had gone still. Whether they were standing on the bridge, watching from home, or reviewing satellite feeds at government facilities, one question echoed in every mind:
Is this the power of a human being?
Or… a god?
The Abomination, an unstoppable juggernaut immune to bullets, had been vaporized in an instant. One kick—just one—and it was gone. Reduced to dust.
The Goddess of Judgment, cloaked in mystery and radiating divine fury, stood like a silent sentinel over the chaos she had ended.
Was she even real? Or had a mythical goddess descended upon Manhattan?
The live feed lingered on Bella's silhouette as the dust slowly settled around her. Her long, golden hair rippled behind her as she stood atop the fractured bridge.
At that moment, a soft hum echoed in her mind.
Catherine Isa Bella
Strength: C+
Stamina: C+
Agility: C+
Magic Release: C+
Mental Power: E+
Luck: C
Noble Phantasm: None
Riding: D+
Intuition: C
Presence/Charm: A
A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips beneath the mask.
Three stats had increased—strength, agility, and magic release had all been bumped up from C- to C+. Not massive, but noticeable.
It was more progress than she'd made in the past two years combined.
Of course, back then, she'd mostly been taking out small-time crooks, gangsters, and the occasional supernatural minion. Nothing like this. Fighting the Abomination, with all his brutal strength and rage, had been the perfect challenge.
And now she had proof that the higher the enemy's power, the greater the reward.
That alone made tonight a victory.
Plus, she'd saved a busload of kids and a ton of civilians.
Yeah, she deserved a little celebration.
Steak sounds good, she thought. Maybe a nice bottle of red to go with it.
She turned away from the smoldering crater and made her way back toward the remnants of her motorcycle, which had been thrown clear in the blast. Though scuffed and slightly dented, the Ducati was still in one piece. Bella crouched to inspect it quickly.
Borrowed property should be returned in decent condition, she reminded herself.
Besides, Bella considered herself a woman of principle—at least when it came to keeping promises.
As she righted the bike, she glanced toward the school bus still parked a short distance away. Through the shattered windows, she could see dozens of wide-eyed children staring at her in wonder.
Some pressed their faces against the glass.
Others waved shyly.
Bella's heart softened.
Despite the trauma, they still had that innocent curiosity. That awe.
Whether they were human or animal, young ones were always the cutest. That truth transcended race or species. Bella might hold little patience for many adults—especially the two-faced elite who wore smiles while harboring selfish intentions—but kids? She liked them.
Especially the small, adorable ones.
She turned slightly and raised a hand in a casual wave.
The kids squealed with excitement.
But then Bella's eyes narrowed beneath the mask.
Her ears twitched, catching a sound from farther down the bridge.
Boots. Lots of them.
And then came the voice—stern, practiced, and laced with authority.
"Clear the way!"
Bella's expression darkened.
A line of black SUVs had pulled up on the Manhattan side of the bridge. Armed soldiers in combat gear fanned out, forming a perimeter. And at the center of the group stood a man in his fifties, stern-faced, square-jawed, and unmistakably military. His uniform bore the insignia of a high-ranking officer.
Figures.
Bella ignored them at first and turned to help clear a path for the trapped bus. She extended her gloved finger and gently pressed against the air.
BOOM.
With a soft, controlled blast, a wave of air exploded outward. It struck the pile of wrecked cars behind the bus, sending them flying off the road and onto the sidewalks in perfect alignment—without harming a soul.
A clear path opened instantly.
"Go ahead," Bella called out, voice calm but firm.
The crowd erupted in cheers. As the bus door swung open, children flooded out, racing toward her like tiny rockets.
Or at least, they tried to.
The adults quickly held them back.
The road was still littered with debris, and the cracks in the bridge were too deep for little feet to cross safely. If they ran forward, they'd trip half a dozen times before reaching her.
Bella mounted her bike and glanced at them with a faint smile.
She was about to rev the engine when her senses flared again.
The military officer had stepped forward. His presence was impossible to ignore.
"Goddess of Judgment," he called out, his voice surprisingly respectful. "We'd like to talk."
Bella didn't respond.
She turned the key.
The Ducati's engine purred to life, the golden aura briefly flickering around its frame as it shifted back into its more advanced form.
She didn't need to talk.
She didn't want to.
With a flick of her wrist, she twisted the throttle.
The bike surged forward—and toward the broken railing of the bridge.
The crowd gasped.
She wouldn't…
She did.
VROOOM!
In one swift motion, Bella launched the motorcycle off the edge of the Manhattan Bridge.
Soldiers shouted in alarm. Civilians ran to the guardrails. Reporters leaned dangerously over the edge, hoping to capture her final plunge.
But what they saw wasn't a fall.
It was a miracle.
Bella's motorcycle hit the water—and didn't sink. A thin golden sheen rippled beneath the wheels as she rode across the river itself, skimming the surface at impossible speeds. Jets of water exploded behind her as if her tires danced on the waves.
And then—she vanished.
A flash of light.
Gone.
No heat signature.
No radar return.
No trace on the water's surface.
Only the echo of an engine fading into the night.
From the helicopters above, frantic cameramen scanned every direction. Their spotlights searched and searched.
Nothing.
She had disappeared like a ghost.
On the bridge, the middle-aged military officer clenched his fists.
BANG!
He slammed his knuckles into the railing with a growl of frustration.
She had ignored him completely.
Just like she ignored them all.
They didn't control her.
Couldn't even track her.
And that—more than her strength—was what truly terrified them
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