Chapter 7

Rachel watched as they tried to calm Grunt down. The guy still hadn’t gotten over his loss to a six-year-old. At that moment, loud applause erupted. Everything was going according to plan: the right people were already gathering intel on the ritual, while another team handled fundraising. Father won’t give me another chance. The clan won’t forgive mistakes. She had to prepare everything else, but her assistant’s whining was getting unbearable. What did they know about being weak?

— "Enough with the whining already. He just took down a level-20 monk built like a tank. Hear the crowd going wild?"

— "Screw you. You’re a girl—you’re used to being weak. I was the strongest in my group, the top of my academy class, and now some brat humiliates me?"

— "Shut up."

Rachel could’ve said a lot, but none of the words in her mind fully captured her thoughts. How do you explain something to someone who lacks the experience to understand? How do you read a word without knowing the letters? Grunt was nothing—a weed that grew in fertile soil.

In a month, Rachel would turn 18, and she’d finally be free to do as she pleased. But first, she had to fulfill her father’s conditions.