Chapter Text
Pain. That was the first thing she felt. A deep, raw ache, like her body had been pulled apart and stitched back together by an unskilled hand. Her head throbbed, her muscles burned.
Then came the smell.
Blood. Smoke. Burning flesh.
She opened her eyes.
The sky above was gray, heavy with clouds that swirled unnaturally, as if stirred by unseen hands. The ground beneath her was wet, soaked in a mixture of mud and crimson. Around her, bodies lay in twisted heaps—men, women, even children. Some bore the cuts of steel, others the burns of fire.
Everything around her was quiet, save for some screams that rang from time to time, and huts, village houses, and lodges were burning.
And then it hit her.
She wasn't supposed to be here.
Memories came in fragments. She was… someone else. A woman from another world, another time. She remembered city lights, the feel of a touchscreen beneath her fingers. But those images were fading, dissolving like mist in the morning sun. What remained was something stronger. Something primal. She flexed her fingers, feeling the raw power coursing through her veins. She was tall, her body carved with strength, her senses sharper than they had ever been before, and naked as the day she was born.
She knew this body, as this was also her.
Diana.
Daughter of Hippolyta. Princess of Themyscrya.
But Olympus was silent in her mind. No whispers from the gods, no tether to her Amazonian sisters. It was as if she had been ripped from her world and thrust into this one, alone.
A group of men emerged from the burning huts. Their armor was crude, made of rusted iron and leather. They carried axes, swords, and torches, their eyes were full of malice.
They spotted her.
One of them, a bearded brute with a thick scar running down his cheek, let out a low whistle. "Well now, what do we have here?"
Another laughed. "Looks like we missed one."
"She's alive."
Another man laughed. "Not for long."
The tallest among them stepped forward, his grin revealing yellowed teeth. His tunic bore a sigil—an iron kraken on black.
A sigil she remembered, barely, as memories came to the forefront again, only to disappear swiftly. Ironborn.
Diana didn't move as he approached. She could hear the confidence in his steps, the certainty of a predator closing in on his prey. He reached for her, one meaty hand grabbing her wrist.
"Come on, girlie. You're too pretty to die in the dirt. Maybe we'll have some fun first—"
A switch flipped inside her.
The moment his fingers dug into her skin, something primal, something divine, erupted from within her. A surge of raw power flooded her veins, and before she even thought to act, she moved.
Her free hand lashed out—faster than thought, faster than anything human. Her fingers wrapped around his throat. His eyes widened in shock. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she crushed his windpipe like it was made of paper.
He didn't even have time to scream. His body crumpled like a rag doll.
The others went silent.
Then came the chaos.
One of the Ironborn lunged at her, a rusted axe swinging for her skull. She caught it. Not the handle—the blade. Steel bit into her palm but didn't cut. The Ironborn had just enough time to look confused before she ripped the axe from his grasp and buried it in his face.
Blood sprayed. His corpse hit the ground.
The rest hesitated. The laughter was gone, replaced by uncertainty. Fear.
Good.
She moved. Fast. Too fast.
One tried to raise his sword—she closed the distance in a blink, grabbed his head in both hands, and twisted. A sickening crack echoed through the air. The body dropped, lifeless.
Another came at her with a spear. She dodged, grabbed the wooden shaft, and snapped it like a twig before driving the splintered end into his chest.
A fourth warrior tried to run.
She ripped off the head of the nearest corpse and hurled it at him. It struck the back of his skull with a wet crunch, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt. He didn't move again.
The last two finally realized what they were dealing with. One dropped his weapon, turning to flee. The other roared in defiance and charged.
She met him head-on, dodging his desperate swing. She grabbed him by the wrist and ripped his arm from its socket.
His scream was short-lived—she caved in his skull with his own severed limb.
The final Ironborn was already running full tilt for the trees. Coward. She kicked a fallen sword off the ground with her foot, caught it mid-air, and hurled it like a spear.
It found its mark. The tip exploded through his chest, pinning him to a tree. His body twitched once. Then, nothing.
Silence.
A sound caught her attention. Movement.
She turned—villagers. The survivors. A handful of them, crawling out from their hiding places in the rubble. Their faces were pale with fear, eyes wide as they took in the scene before them.
They saw the slaughter.
They saw the tall, blood-soaked naked woman standing amidst the carnage.
A few dropped to their knees, whispering prayers. Some openly wept.
"W-what… are you?"
An old woman, stepped forward. Her face was streaked with soot and tears.
Diana turned, surveying the destruction. The village was barely standing. The bodies of the slain lay scattered, and those who had survived had lost everything.
She clenched her fists.
This world was cruel. The strong took what they wanted, leaving the weak to suffer. It reminded her too much of the stories her mother had told her of the past when the Amazons had fought against the armies sent under the orders of Ares.
She would not let it stand.
She raised her voice. Thunder boomed above her.
"I am Diana, daughter of Zeus. I am strength. I am vengeance. I am Justice. I am your salvation."
For a long moment, silence hung in the air. Then, one by one, they knelt.