Self-Harming Heroine

Chapter 6

“Those who possess power must use it for society and humanity.”

Arin grew up hearing those words.

Both of her parents were supernatural ability users who had spent half their lives fighting monsters on the frontlines. The weight of their words carried a meaning far deeper than most could understand.

Having parents with supernatural abilities didn’t guarantee their children would inherit them. Abilities weren’t passed down through bloodlines.

But Arin was born with an ability.

Her parents always told her the same thing—great power comes with great responsibility.

Arin couldn’t easily accept those words.

What did power have to do with responsibility? Power was just power. It wasn’t something she had asked for; it was simply something she had been born with.

So why was she supposed to bear responsibility for it?

Back then, when she was still a child, Arin grew tired of her parents’ repeated lectures.

She felt like their words had been etched into her ears, worn down by endless repetition. She had heard it so many times that she eventually began to rebel. Sometimes, she’d deliberately act in opposition to their words.

Arin was a supernatural ability user.

But she didn’t understand the weight carried by the term “supernatural ability.”

To her, it simply meant that she was stronger than most people. That was all it was—nothing more, nothing less.

She wouldn’t come to understand its true weight until she turned twelve.

It had been an ordinary day.

She finished school, ate ice cream with her friends, and waved goodbye at the crosswalk, promising to meet them again tomorrow.

They’d met yesterday and today, so of course, they’d meet again tomorrow.

People take their everyday lives for granted, assuming they’ll continue without interruption.

Without any specific reason or evidence, they simply believe tomorrow will be just like today.

And yet, the peace they believe in so firmly is nothing more than a fragile illusion that can shatter at any moment.

The first to notice something was wrong that day was Arin’s supernatural ability.

Her power—Danger Sense—was designed to detect any threat against her.

Twelve-year-old Arin froze in place and looked up at the sky.

Her ability was sounding an alarm louder than it ever had before.

Why?

What was causing this?

She had no idea.

But Arin trusted her instincts.

She ran.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, desperate to escape the range of danger.

But no matter how far she ran, her ability didn’t stop.

Even when her lungs burned and her legs felt like they would give out, the alarm continued to blare.

Eventually, Arin realized the truth—

The entire city was in danger.

Her ability’s warning grew louder, so deafening that it drowned out all other sounds.

The noise in her head became unbearable, making her ears ring and her heart race with terror.

Then—

At the very moment her ability’s alarm reached its peak—

The sky cracked.

Like glass shattering, a rift tore through the heavens.

Even now, Arin vividly remembers the single word that slipped from her lips in that moment—

“Ah...”

And then—

Like raindrops falling from the sky—

Monsters poured out.

How could she ever forget that day?

The horror. The catastrophe. The apocalypse.

Screams filled the air.

Blood splattered everywhere.

People died.

People were eaten.

People were torn apart.

Walls crumbled.

Buildings collapsed.

Utility poles toppled.

People fell.

People shattered.

People died.

People died.

People died.

That was the day Arin first felt the true weight of the word “supernatural ability.”

That was the day she finally understood what her parents had always been trying to tell her.

And Arin recognized that expression.

She had seen it before.

That day.

In that city.

When monsters poured down from the sky.

When enormous beasts devoured people whole.

Crunch. Crunch.

She heard the sounds again.

No—hallucinations.

She forced her mouth shut, swallowing back the nausea.

Don’t panic.

This isn’t the same as back then.

I’m strong now.

Don’t be scared.

Why do you think you came to the Academy?

She struggled to lift her head.

The chimera golem was gone, and Angelica was checking on the girl.

Fortunately, the girl was unharmed.

Rapid Regeneration.

That was her supernatural ability.

The evaluation ended.

But the image of the girl’s shattered shoulder wouldn’t leave Arin’s mind.

*****

Supernatural abilities related to regeneration heal any injury.

They always restore the body to its perfect state.

But fast healing doesn’t mean the absence of pain.

It still hurts like hell.

Wounds still torment you.

And when a shoulder is shattered like that, the pain is beyond imagination.

The girl—Lucia—spent the entire class drenched in cold sweat.

Even now, she was pressing against her fully healed shoulder, her breath shallow and uneven.

Was it phantom pain?

Arin glanced at Lucia several times, her concern growing with each look.

She couldn’t forget the sight of Lucia collapsing in a pool of blood.

She couldn’t erase the pained expression contorting Lucia’s face.

It must have hurt—a lot.

It must have been unbearable.

Arin knew because she had felt the same before.

Students at the Academy were always expected to be prepared for injuries.

You couldn’t become a great warrior if you feared getting hurt while learning to fight the Beasts of the Beyond.

But being mentally prepared didn’t mean reality followed your expectations.

No one liked pain.

Arin sighed.

Deep down, she knew her concern for Lucia wasn’t purely out of kindness.

Seeing Lucia injured had dragged up her own buried trauma, making her heart ache in sympathy.

Still, that didn’t make her worry a lie or her feelings insincere.

When class ended, Lucia—pale and shaken—practically fled the room.

Arin had offered to walk home together, but Lucia declined.

Watching her retreating figure, Arin’s expression turned bitter.

“I hope she’s okay...”

It was hard to let it go.

Even if the wound had healed, the pain would linger.

Pain always did.

Arin knew that from experience.

In the end, overcoming it was up to the person who suffered it.

There wasn’t much Arin could do to help—maybe offer an ear if Lucia needed someone to talk to.

“Not that I’m in any position to talk...”

Arin shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

Crunch.

She froze.

It sounded like something being chewed.

No—it was just her imagination.

A hallucination.