Antiope's face was pale, her pupils wide open. Her heart pounded and trembled, and it felt as if even the blood flowing through her veins was quivering in fear. Her thin fingers wouldn't stop trembling.
The suffocating pressure in the air made it all feel unreal.
Zeus's magical protective field had been destroyed. One-fifth of Paradise Island—including the forest and an external training ground—was annihilated. The gathered Amazon warriors were blown away by the shockwave of a nuclear explosion. Some were flung into the sky, colliding with each other mid-air. Limbs flailed, blood splattered, and the scene was horrifying.
There was no sound on the screen—only the visuals—and that silence made everything even more dreadful.
Phillipus stood frozen, her eyes vacant with disbelief. She didn't want to accept the truth. The scenes of helpless Amazons etched themselves into her heart.
Once, the Amazon warriors had been powerful. But now, they were so powerless, without even a chance to fight back. They were annihilated—killed, blown apart, dismembered—blood spraying across the ruins of white, crumbling buildings.
"Doris!"
Artemis reached toward the screen. Her friend could be seen clearly. One arm had been blown off and, under the force of the shockwave, she was flung high into the air before crashing down into the ruins.
The camera panned slowly, deliberately, across the silent devastation and broken walls. Sunlight beamed down over the ruins, illuminating the shattered limbs and spilled blood in an almost peaceful yet tragic light.
"Everyone…"
Artemis's pupils trembled. Her gaze locked on the mangled remains—those strong, iron-willed warriors who had trained, hunted, slept, and bathed with her. Now, many were nothing but fragments, their bodies torn apart, blood raining down from the sky.
The grief and pain made the three Amazon warriors shake uncontrollably.
But what came next was even more unbearable.
On the screen, a deep, magnetic male narration slowly returned.
"The magical protective field of Paradise Island has been broken. The next nuclear bomb, with a yield of one million tons, will be enough to erase Paradise Island from the earth…"
The voice delivered this chilling fact slowly, each word cutting deep.
On the screen, a one-hundred-ton nuclear missile began rising vertically. Flames of red and white gushed from its base as it thundered into the sky.
"Stop!"
Antiope screamed in horror, her soul nearly leaving her body.
Without the magical barrier, a nuclear bomb of this magnitude would kill over 99% of the Amazons on Paradise Island.
This wasn't war.
This wasn't the brutal, honorable battle they had once imagined—two sides clashing with blades, dying on the battlefield with pride.
This was merciless slaughter. There was no honor, no fierce clash of weapons, no blood-boiling combat. The skills and strength honed by Amazon warriors over millennia were completely useless here.
This was not war.
At last, Antiope was terrified to her core. She realized this wasn't a war between them and Bardi—it was an extermination.
"Stop!"
Phillipus was breathless. Her heart pounded uncontrollably as the nuclear missile flew. Her bronze-toned face was filled with panic. She and Antiope shouted in unison.
Bardi sat comfortably, his back sinking into the soft sofa. Hera, like a relaxed feline, lounged beside him. Bardi's casual fingers brushed the white shirt at her waist, her fair skin beneath subtly visible. Even through the fabric, she radiated an inexplicable allure.
He opened his mouth and accepted a longan Hera had peeled and offered with her slender fingers, smiling softly.
Then, as if playing the piano, Bardi gently tapped his fingers along Hera's waist to the rhythm of "Croatian Rhapsody."
His fingers danced lightly, a smile on his lips as he hummed along, relaxed and pleased.
"Only those who have never felt fear refuse to yield."
The corners of Bardi's mouth curled into a light, pleasant smile.
It was undeniably beautiful—radiant, warm, and gentle.
To Antiope and Phillipus, it was terrifying. This was the smile of a demon who viewed life as meaningless.
The most evil kind of smile.
Artemis's body trembled. Her bronzed skin, taut with muscle, bulged with veins like coiled dragons. Her eyes shook with fury. Then, she roared in rage.
The tragic scene was seared into her mind. The anguish transformed into deep, overwhelming anger, filling her heart.
On the screen, the missile soared on, flying across the ocean.
The thought of her homeland—Paradise Island—being wiped out by a nuclear bomb made her blood boil. Her eyes were red, her breath heavy with fury she could no longer suppress.
"I'll kill you!!"
Artemis let out a furious roar. Her foot struck the ground with a thunderous boom. The floor cracked into a deep crater as she raised her longsword and charged forward with explosive force. A fierce gust of wind burst through the room.
The wine cabinets behind the bar rattled. A wine glass was blown off the bar and shattered on the floor.
Papers on the desk were blown into the air, fluttering like leaves in the wind.
Artemis, like the ancient god of war, released her anger. Stepping forward with rage, her sword aimed at Bardi, the shattered floor crumbling under each stride. The blade cut through the falling papers as she charged at him.
Bardi remained still, seemingly lost in his own world, unbothered.
The glamorous Hera, lying beside him, was lost in Bardi's touch and indulgence.
Then suddenly.
Hera moved like a leopard. Her eyes flashed coldly. Her soft, stocking-clad legs kicked off from the sofa with explosive force. She transformed from a lounging beauty into a deadly force.
With swift precision, Hera stood before Artemis. Her long legs, wrapped in torn stockings, extended from beneath her ripped skirt, slender and beautiful. She stepped forward with a booming impact, spiderweb cracks spreading across the ground.
As Artemis charged forward, Hera leaned into her like a mountain—her delicate-looking back and shoulders absorbing the attack.
Boom!
Artemis, like a cannonball, was flung into the wall. She embedded into a deep crater, her eyes wide as the impact shook her chest and organs.
Cough!
She coughed up blood. The crimson liquid spilled from her lips as she glared furiously at Hera.
Hera calmly smoothed her torn skirt, tucking her long legs back beneath the fabric. Without a word, she returned to Bardi's side.
Her expression softened again, like a docile cat. She leaned against Bardi, resting her legs on the sofa. She guided his hand back to her waist and gently moved his fingers across her skin once more. Then, squinting slightly, she peeled another lychee, removing the seed before feeding it to Bardi.
(To be continued.)
***
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