The Hate-Forged Queen

The wind stung grit across my face.
I knelt in the ruins, my fingertips pressed against Andrew Carl's chest.
His wound still bled—a gaping hole pierced by a mutated hyena's fang.
Hold on. I gritted my teeth, summoning the last of my healing power.
Warm light seeped from my fingertips into his skin, my veins burning as if on fire.
It was the third year after Doomsday, and healers had long since become scarce.
I was the camp's only healer—and Andrew's girlfriend.
When my powers ran out, darkness blurred my vision and I nearly collapsed.
Andrew's breathing gradually steadied. When he opened his eyes, the first words out of his mouth weren't thank you.
"Where are my compressed biscuits?" He reached for my backpack.
Before I could react, he snatched my backpack away.
Florence Baker walked by, shaking the Space Bracelet on her wrist.
"Andrew, my space supplies are running low." Her voice was laced with a teasing tone.
Florence is a Space-type Psychic who only joined the camp last month.
Andrew handed her the last pack of biscuits from my backpack, his gaze as cold as ice.
"Cecily, your psychic powers are gone. Staying at the camp is just wasting resources."
I froze, thinking I must have misheard.
"I just saved you." My voice trembled.
"That was your choice." Andrew kicked away my outstretched hand. "Now, get out of the camp."
Florence leaned against his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at me. "Useless people should know their place."
A cold wind seeped into my collar. I looked at those two, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed tight.
I slowly pulled myself up, a faint glow flickering at my fingertips.
With Andrew distracted, I swiftly pressed against the wound on his chest.
That was the life force I left lingering inside him when I healed him earlier.
And the source of his proud Lightning Ability—I quietly siphoned a thread of it.
"You'll regret this." I fixed my gaze on his eyes, speaking each word slowly and clearly.
Andrew sneered and signaled the Guardians Team to haul me away.
They threw me out into the rubble beyond the camp, with Florence's laughter ringing behind me.
Dusk was settling, and in the distance, the snarls of mutated beasts echoed.
I clutch my empty chest, hatred spreading like wild vines.

I drag my body and slip into an abandoned apartment building.
The floorboards are riddled with cracks, and the windows have long since lost their glass.
Leaning against the cold wall, I cough up a mouthful of blood.
The backlash from siphoning Andrew's Lightning Origin just now left me wounded, but I can't afford to die.
I clutch that thread of Lightning Origin in my palm and close my eyes.
Merging psychic powers is ten thousand times harder than I ever imagined.
The Lightning Origin snarls inside me like an angry little serpent.
My skin started to crack, blood beads oozing out, only to be frozen again by the biting cold wind.
My entire body convulsed as my consciousness flickered between clarity and haze.
All I could see in my mind were the faces of Andrew Carl and Florence Baker.
They're the ones who drove me to this breaking point.
I gritted my teeth, using the last of my will to suppress that thread of origin within me.
I don't know how much time passed, but the turmoil inside me slowly began to settle.
I opened my eyes, fingertips summoning tiny blue-purple Stormblade.
My healing power still lingers, though it's weaker now.
Now, I'm a dual psychic powers wielder—both healing and storm.
Over on Andrew's side, things shouldn't be going well.
I leaned against the wall, a cold smile curling at the corner of my mouth.
Deep inside the camp, Andrew frowned at his reflection in the mirror.
He raised his hand to summon Stormblade, but only faint sparks flickered at his fingertips.
"What's happening?" He slammed his fist on the table.
The lightning ability that could easily sever steel pipes yesterday now felt as limp as withered grass.
Ivan pushed the door open, holding the beast-hunting plan.
"Captain, we're going to hunt an A-level mutated bear tomorrow. What do you think..."
Andrew looked up, his gaze dark and fierce. "Proceed as planned."
Ivan hesitated for a moment. "But your psychic powers..."
"My business is none of your concern." Andrew cut him off. "I'm still the captain of this camp; no one can question me."
He couldn't let anyone know his psychic powers were fading.
Especially Florence—if she found out he was useless, she'd leave immediately.
Andrew clenched his fists, an inexplicable irritation gnawing at him.
He always felt something had been stolen from him.
But he couldn't recall what it was.

The next morning, the Predators Team set out.
Andrew walked at the front, his face deathly pale.
Ivan followed behind, eyes sharp and alert to his every move.
The nest of an A-level mutated bear lay hidden in an abandoned factory.
The moment they got close, a thick, bloody stench filled the air.
"Get ready." Andrew growled under his breath, raising his hand to summon lightning.
But this time, not even a spark flickered.
The mutated bear caught the movement and lunged recklessly.
Its claws whipped through the air, aiming straight for Andrew's chest.
"Careful!" Ivan shouted, stepping in to block with his shield.
With a sharp crack, the shield split open along a deep fissure.
Ivan staggered back, blood spraying from his mouth.
"Captain, what's really wrong with your psychic powers?" He asked, clutching his chest.
Andrew remained silent, his mind a blank.
The team panicked; without Andrew's lightning ability, they stood no chance against the mutated bear.
"Fall back!" Ivan shouted, ordering the team to cover their retreat.
Amid the chaos, two more team members were mauled by the bear.
After finally falling back to a safe spot, Ivan was barely holding on.
He leaned against a tree, breathing shallow, blood steadily oozing from the wound in his chest.
"We need to find the healer..." a team member whispered.
The camp's only healer was Cecily Adams, the one Andrew had driven away.
No one dared speak the words; they all kept their heads down, eyes fixed on the ground.
Andrew stared at the dying Ivan, the restless anger inside him twisting into fury.
It wasn't that his power was fading on its own—the rage wasn't natural—it had to be Cecily's doing.
"Search immediately!" Andrew pointed toward the ruins. "Bring Cecily Adams back to me! If she resists, kill her!"
The team members exchanged uneasy glances, none daring to move.
"How dare you disobey orders?" Andrew glared at them.
A young team member mustered the courage and said, "Captain, you're the one who drove Cecily away..."
"Shut up!" Andrew kicked out. "Go now! If you don't find her, none of you are coming back to the camp!"
The team members had no choice but to grab their weapons and head into the ruins.
Ivan watched Andrew's back, closed his eyes, and felt nothing but disappointment.
He had followed Andrew for a long time, but the Andrew before him now was no longer the reliable captain he once was.

I stayed in the abandoned building for three days.
During those three days, I was constantly getting familiar with the Lightning Ability.
Now, I can easily summon a half-meter-long Stormblade, and even weave it into a Lightning Net.
My healing power has also recovered a lot; small wounds heal instantly now.
Footsteps and voices came from outside.
"The Captain said that once we find Cecily, we're to take her out."
"But she's a healer..."
"Enough talk. If we can't find her, we're all doomed."
I stood by the window, watching the five team members downstairs.
They held steel pipes and machetes, cautiously searching the building.
I walked down the stairs, my footsteps echoing through the empty building.
"Who's there?" A team member shouted, raising a steel pipe.
I reached the doorway, standing under the sunlight.
"Looking for me?" I stared at them, my gaze cold as ice.
The team members froze for a moment, clearly not expecting me to step forward.
"Cecily, come back to the camp with us." The lead team member said.
"Back to the camp for what?" I raised an eyebrow. "Let Andrew chase me out again?"
"Don't be ungrateful!" another team member snapped impatiently, charging over with a machete.
I sidestepped, conjuring the Stormblade at my fingertips.
With a sharp crack, the Stormblade slammed against his machete.
He howled in pain, dropping the knife as if shocked, clutching his hand.
The other team members panicked and took a few steps back.
"You... how do you have Lightning Ability?" The lead team member's eyes went wide.
I said nothing and stepped closer.
The Stormblade flickered on my fingertip, crackling with electric energy.
"Go back and tell Andrew Carl." I stopped. "If he wants me to save Ivan, have him come himself."
"And he'd better come on his knees."
The lead team member went pale, daring not to argue.
"And," I added, "from today, the revenge game begins."
The team members scrambled away in a panic.
I stood there, watching their retreating backs.
Andrew Carl, Florence Baker, you owe me—and I'll take it back, piece by piece.
At the camp, the team members reported the news to Andrew.
The cup in Andrew's hand shattered on the ground.
"She actually has Lightning Ability?" He couldn't believe it.
Florence walked over and tugged his arm. "Andrew, could Cecily have stolen your Psychic Powers?"
Andrew's heart stirred.
When did his psychic powers start fading?
It seems to have been after Cecily saved him that day.
It has to be Cecily's doing!
"How's Ivan?" Andrew asked.
"He's barely hanging on, his breathing growing weaker." A team member answered.
Andrew clenched his teeth, caught in a torment inside.
He's got to beg Cecily on his knees; but if he didn't save Ivan, the team would only grow more restless.
He hesitated long and hard, but in the end, he gave in.
"Get the wheelchair ready." He said, "I'm going to see Cecily."

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