Cursed Heir System: Revenge Against the Gods

Janine doesn't know who her parents are. She grew up on the streets and was dragged into an orphanage at age of seven, not out of kindness but the greedy orphanage director needs extra government money.

The orphanage was a cruel prison. She saw terrible things like kids sold as slaves or worse, and even terrible assaults. But Janine was small and helpless and could only watch.

On her twelfth birthday, the orphanage held its yearly rite of ascension, a ceremony to awaken divine blessings.

Janine stood among the scared orphans, expecting a common blessing. But when the ritual's light surrounded her, she unexpectedly received the Earth God's Blessings, which are usually given to nobles. Only twenty-one commoners in history had received such a gift and now Janine was the twenty-second.

A few days later, she stood in a grand hall with her messy silver-pink hair and torn clothes out of place against the shiny marble. Before her was a striking woman with flowing green hair and sharp amber eyes—Duchess Sharra Nocelle.

"So, this little one's the Earth's Champion?" she asked with a warm smile while leaning forward and her gloved hand gently patted Janine's head. Her touch was soft, strange which Janine flinched.

The orphanage director, a fat man with a slimy smile, bowed with hands clasped. "Indeed, Your Grace," he said with a fake and syrupy voice. "Her name's Janine. We've raised her with utmost care. It's… bittersweet to see her go."

Sharra's gaze returned to Janine with her smile softening. "Well, Janine," she said, "I've decided to take you to Nocelle Manor and raise you as my own. You'll get whatever you need. How does that sound?"

Her eyes widened. "You'll… take care of me?" she whispered, braced for the punishment that always followed kindness in the orphanage.

Sharra nodded gently. "Yes. You'll live free of worry. I can even arrange for you to see your friends here whenever you like and I'll ensure this orphanage is properly cared for. What do you say?"

Janine's hand drifted to her chest, remembering the pain, the things the director and his men did when no one was looking, the kind of pain that never left. "You won't… hurt me here?" she asked hesitantly. "It hurts when they do it."

Sharra's amber eyes widened in a moment and her smile vanished. "Who hurt you?" she asked calmly.

Janine hesitated and pointed at the director, whose face turned pale.

"Him," she said softly.

The director stammered while stepping back. "Your Grace, don't listen to her! She's a liar, always spinning tales. Ask anyone here!" He raised a hand to hit Janine, who flinched and curled inward, bracing for the blow.

A sharp shuck sliced through the air. Janine's eyes were squeezed shut and her body tensed, but no pain came. She slowly opened her eyes and her breath caught and stepped back as she saw the director's head on the floor, his body collapsing in a pool of blood. Her wide violet eyes darted between the corpse and Sharra, who's holding a glowing red sword and her elegant dress now stained with blood.

"Clean this filth," Sharra ordered. The soldiers snapped to attention, shouting, "Yes, Your Grace!" as they moved to clear the scene.

Sharra's gaze softened as she turned to Janine and the sword vanished slowly.

She knelt to the girl's level, her voice gentle again. "What's your name again, little one?"

Janine swallowed hard. "Janine."

"Janine," Sharra repeated, her warm smile radiant. "I'll make you stronger than anyone on this continent. So strong that no one, no filth, will ever hurt you again." She extended a hand. "Will you come with me?"

To Janine, Sharra was a divine warrior, a savior offering escape from her nightmare. Her heart is filled with fear and hope.

She clenched her trembling fists with a resolve—she'd never be weak again, never cower from monsters like the director. With a steadying breath, she placed her small hand in Sharra's for the new start.

From that day, Janine's goal was clear: to become unbreakable, a warrior no one could touch. She trained hard under Sharra's guidance. She was totally loyal to the Duchess.

Over the years, she became so strong that she eventually forgot what pain is. Until—

A crazy grey-haired boy with hollow eyes dared to challenge her for knighthood.

At present in Nocelle Manor's duel ground, soldiers, nobles, and workers cheered loudly for Janine, the Earth's Champion, their voices roaring in triumph.

But to her, the world was strangely quiet, the noise fading to a dull hum. Her violet eyes locked onto the grey-haired boy crumpled in the dirt with blood on his lips and his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Winning should have felt good, but something bothered her, there's an unfamiliar sharp sting on her cheek. She slowly raised a hand and silenced the whole crowd including nobles with one gesture, showing her total authority. The cheers stopped, leaving only the soft rustle of the breeze. She wiped her cheek where she felt a warm trickle.

Her eyes widened. A thin smear of red glistened on her palm. Alan had done the impossible. He'd made her bleed.

She looked at him as he struggled to his feet, wiping blood from his face with a bold smirk. "How's my dance, Champion?" he rasped, coughing as he steadied himself. "Managed to bleed a pretty face of yours."

Janine stared at him, breath caught. Her fingers trembled, not from pain, but from the strange thrill of feeling alive again after years of invincibility.

The crowd buzzed with hushed whispers with shock spreading like a wave.

"How did he even touch her?" a soldier muttered, his voice shaky with awe. "No one's ever gotten that close."

"Desperate fool," a noble scoffed, fixing his cloak. "Throwing himself at her like that? He's reckless."

"Something's not right," another whispered.

"No commoner moves like that. What's he hiding?"

Anna's crimson eyes were wide as she watched Alan sway. Moriko gripped his arm to steady him while her tail flicked nervously.

Duchess Sharra stood from her seat in the pavilion and stepped forward, her presence commanding the arena as her voice cut through the whispers with easy grace. "Enough," she declared, her tone silencing everyone instantly.

"Alan has met the challenge. He drew blood from the Earth's Champion and proved his worth of being my daughter's knight. His knighthood ceremony will be held once he recovers."

The crowd went quiet with her announcement. Alan's eyes flickered with victory.

Relief filled his chest, warm and heavy, like a burden lifting after a long fight.

He'd died fifteen times, remembering the pain of Janine's punches breaking his ribs, crushing his lungs, snapping his bones. The fear of those moments stuck to him, the terror of stabbing his own temple and the cold dread of slipping into darkness only to wake again.

Now, battered but alive, he'd pushed through her storm.

His vision blurred with fifteen deaths' worth of pain crashing down now that adrenaline faded. His legs shook, then gave out, his body worn from her hits and his own deaths.

Anna and Moriko tried to catch him, but Janine was faster. In a flash, she crossed the arena and scooped him up in her strong arms with her wild grin.

She held him close, his face pressed against her chest as he gasped for air.

"Kid, you absolute madman!" Janine exclaimed with bursting excitement. "I haven't felt a sting like that in years! Dodging my moves like you knew them by heart. You're the first in ages who's actually worth a fight!"

Her words spilled out, her grin contagious as she kept talking. "I'm telling you, grey-hair, you've got a real fire! A dance partner like that deserves—"

"Oi bitch, let him breathe!" Moriko snapped as she tugged at Janine's arm. "You're crushing him, you lunatic!"

Anna, hovering nearby, nodded quickly. "Jani, he's barely conscious! Put him down!"

Janine blinked as her excitement paused and looked at Alan, his head drooping against her arm, his eyes half-closed. "Oh, whoops," she said with a sheepish unapologetic grin. She gently set him down, propping him up carefully. "Got a bit carried away."