Chapter 8: Soldier

Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Soldier "So what does this flame actually do?" Betty asked, arms crossed over her chest. The phoenix shook her tiny head, feathers ruffling with exasperation. "No, I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand yet. If you’re lucky enough to awaken it... you’ll know then." Betty shrugged, completely unbothered. "Alright then, Birdy—what’s your name? What should I call you?" The phoenix blinked at the sudden shift in topic. "Uh... my name is Calista. But why aren’t you more curious about the flame? It’s not something ordinary!" Betty casually turned and started walking ahead. "Calista, huh? Nice name." She glanced back with a smirk. "And as for the flame... didn’t you just say I’ll understand when the time comes?" Calista’s tiny beak parted, speechless at Betty’s calm reaction—like they were chatting about groceries, not magical phoenix powers. "Now I’m heading back. Sophia’s probably home alone." With that, Betty vanished, leaving Calista flapping in the air, hovering in silence as she stared after her new master. "Humans are so weird..." she muttered. Betty stepped out of the basement, humming softly to herself, plastic bags in one hand filled with ingredients for dinner. "La la la—" Her voice cracked mid-note. She paused, blinking. ’My voice...?’ She cleared her throat and hummed again. It was hoarse, gravelly—deep, almost like a man’s. ’Okay, I can speak now... but why do I sound like I chain-smoked for ten years?!’ Before she could dwell on it— "Bang! Bang! Bang!" The sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the air, freezing her in place. Her eyes widened. "H-Huh? What’s going on?" She rushed outside—and her breath caught in her throat. Police units were lined up along the main road, guns raised. A chaotic shootout was underway. Then she saw them. Men staggering toward the officers—grotesque, broken things. Their skulls were cracked open, gray matter exposed. Some crawled forward with no legs, blackened skin peeling, reeking of burnt flesh. Betty slapped a hand over her mouth, nearly vomiting. ’D-Did the apocalypse already start?! How? This... this isn’t right! In the novel, it didn’t happen until after the original owner escaped the kidnappers—one month later!’ Her heart pounded wildly as she turned and bolted down the street, dodging panicked pedestrians. Screams rang in her ears. More gunshots. Sirens. She didn’t look back. "Sophia!" She burst into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her, chest heaving. Her eyes immediately scanned the room—and relief flooded her. Sophia was still asleep on the sofa, hugging a pillow close, unaware of the nightmare unraveling outside. Betty knelt beside her, gently brushing hair from her forehead. ’Thank god... she’s safe. Now I have to think of a safe place to put Sophia’ "You can bring her into the space," Calista’s voice echoed suddenly in Betty’s ear. Betty flinched, eyes wide. "Huh? You can talk to me outside the space?" she asked, glancing around. But then her expression shifted as the words registered.Her eyes lit up. "Wait—that’s a great idea. I don’t want to drag her through chaos and risk her life." She looked down at Sophia sleeping soundly."What do I have to do to bring her in?" "Just place your hand on her and think about giving her permission to enter the space," Calista explained. Betty leaned down and gently kissed Sophia’s forehead.Then she placed her hand over the phoenix mark on her own arm and focused. ’Let her enter....’ In a soft shimmer of light, Sophia’s small form vanished from her arms. Betty blinked.She looked down. The blanket remained—but no clothes. Her eyes widened."Calista... she’s not here. Her clothes are not with me. She’s not... naked in there, right?" she asked, voice full of concern. There was a pause before Calista replied with an amused tone. "Don’t worry. That strange undressing rule only applies to you, the master of the space. It’s a weird clause from the immortal phoenix who created it—something about ’rebirth and purity’ or whatever." Betty groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Wow... what a weird fetish," Betty muttered, rolling her eyes as she stood up. Still grumbling under her breath about the immortal phoenix’s odd rules, she casually walked toward the apartment door and peeked outside. The sky was dimming—not the soft orange of dusk, but a deep, unnatural black creeping in like a curtain being pulled across the heavens. She quietly shut the door and locked it, pressing her back against the wood with a heavy sigh. "Now begins the never-ending night... No more summer. No sun. Just cold. Just winter," "Wow, that was a good rap line." She whispered. Turning on her heel, she marched into the kitchen. Her expression hardened as she scanned the drawers, pulling out every knife she could find—paring knives, steak knives, even a rusty old cleaver. One by one, she strapped them to her arms, thighs, and calves, using torn cloth strips for makeshift holsters. When she finished, she stood in front of the mirror. A girl in pajamas, now laced with blades, stared back. She clapped her hands once into a military salute, sharply. "Alright. soldier Ready for hell." Her gaze turned somber as her fingers curled into fists. "That damn author... All his other books were amazing. But this one? It pissed me off the most. Cruel. Twisted. Brutal." She looked toward the window again—toward the darkening sky that now held no trace of peace. "Why would in this world, people get worse than monsters. Greed, madness, betrayal... I know what’s coming." Her lips pressed into a tight smile. "And this time, I’m not dying like the last FL. They try to touch me?" She patted the knives strapped to her legs. "They’ll regret it." Suddenly—BANG! BANG! BANG! A sharp, urgent knock slammed against the apartment door, echoing through the quiet space like gunshots. Betty froze. Her face went pale instantly, all the color draining from her cheeks. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the nearest knife strapped to her thigh, pulling it out with a shaky breath. "W-Well... haha..." she forced a nervous laugh, barely above a whisper."I was just joking earlier, y’know? Just trying to look cool... yeah." She tiptoed toward the door, pressing her back against the wall beside it, knife raised. Her breath caught in her throat as another knock came—slower this time, almost... like an alcoholic person knocking. Thud... thud... thud. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. ’Who could it be...’ she thought, gripping the knife tightly. For a moment, she considered calling Calista. But what could the little bird do against this chaos? She reached toward the peephole—then stopped. ’What if it’s already one of them? A half-burned corpse... a neighbor turned monster...’ Swallowing hard, she crept toward the kitchen, dragging an iron rod and tucking it into her waistband. "Alright... you knock. I stab. That’s the deal," she muttered to herself. Another knock. This time louder. BANG! BANG! "Shit."