The Snake God with SSS Rank Evolution System

On the other side of Myrta, Selena walked quickly down the stone steps of her residence. The remainder of her people moved behind her, some wounded, others carrying civilians pulled from the rubble. Fires still raged in the distance, and the western sky burned red.

A soldier ran up to her, breathless. He stopped and gave a quick salute.

”Lady Selena! Report from the west. A group of mages is attacking from that direction. They’re not wearing Myrta colors, and there are quite a few of them.” He paused. ”The one leading them directly... Duke Giorno Javelin.”

Selena’s step faltered. She turned to the soldier, one brow lifting slightly.

”Giorno?” She repeated the name slowly, as if tasting something bitter. ”He’s attacking us directly?”

She turned toward the west. There, between smoke and flame, a figure in armor stood atop the rubble, surrounded by mages ready to fire. Duke Giorno Javelin, with a small Javelin Squad banner fastened to his back.

Selena narrowed her eyes.

”Strange.”

She turned back to her soldier, her voice calm but sharp.

”He’s attacking our headquarters directly. Either he’s truly confident, or he’s already desperate.”

She looked toward Giorno again. The man seemed busy giving orders, but there was something restless in his movements. He looked back too often as if he was worried about something.

Selena nodded slowly to herself.

”Most likely the latter.”

She turned to face the rest of her forces. Her face was cold, but her eyes burned.

”Either way, hold them off. Don’t let a single one get deeper into the city.” She raised her remaining right hand. ”And for the mages, stand ready. We’re confronting them directly.”

A sharp-eyed captain stepped forward.

”Lady Selena, are you sure? We lost too many in the first attack. If Giorno has reinforcements—”

”That’s exactly why,” Selena cut in. ”He’s coming now because he knows we’re still fragile. If we retreat, he’ll trample what’s left of this city.” She looked the lieutenant straight in the eye. ”I won’t let Myrta fall twice.”

The captain bowed her head. ”Understood, Lady Selena.”

Selena walked to the front of the line. The rest of her forces followed, their steps heavy but orderly. Behind her, the mages began taking positions, staves and staffs raised, mana glinting at their fingertips. In the distance, Giorno still stood on the rubble, surrounded by the glow of spells ready to be unleashed.

Selena stopped at the head of the formation. She stared at Giorno from afar, and although her face remained calm, the sight of the ruined city made her determined.

”Giorno Javelin,” she said quietly, almost to herself. ”You think you can just take a broken city like this?”

She clenched her right fist.

”You’re badly mistaken.”

Selena raised her hand and swept it forward. Her voice cut through the smoke and chaos, sharp and clear.

”Attack units, advance in formation! Mage units, prepare your spells!”

The line moved as one. Soldiers in battered armor locked their shields, spears lowered, and stepped forward through the rubble. Behind them, the mages spread into a wide arc, staves glowing as mana gathered at the tips. The air hummed with building energy.

Giorno watched them come from his position atop the broken wall.

”Look at them. Still trying to fight back.” He turned his head slightly toward the mages behind him. ”Don’t let them close the distance. Fire at will.”

The mages of House Javelin raised their staves in unison. A volley of fireballs and lightning bolts screamed across the ruined street, slamming into the front line of Myrta’s defenders. The shields cracked brittle and the men screamed in pain. But the line didn’t break. They continued to advance, step by step, through the smoke and debris.

Selena walked behind the front line, her remaining hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Her eyes never left Giorno.

”Hold the line,” she said, her voice carrying over the roar of spells. ”Mages, return fire. Target their casters first.”

A second wave of mana erupted from Myrta’s side—lances of ice and arcs of lightning streaking toward Giorno’s mages. The first rank of House Javelin’s casters scattered, some thrown off their feet, others collapsing as spells found their marks.

Giorno’s confident smile flickered. He glanced toward the plaza, then back at Selena’s advancing line.

”They’re more organized than I expected.”

It didn’t stop there, Selena raised her hand and signaled the next wave.

”Push forward! Don’t let them breathe!”

The front line surged. They advanced through the smoke and rubble with grim determination. The mages behind them kept firing, targeting anyone who tried to raise a staff. A Javelin caster screamed as a lance of ice punched through his shoulder. Another collapsed, robes smoking, lightning still crackling around his fingers.

Giorno watched his line buckle. His face twisted.

”Useless! All of you, useless!” He turned to the mages beside him. ”Fall back to the secondary position! Regroup!”

But Selena had already seen the gap. She drew her sword and pointed it forward.

”Break their center.”

Her soldiers surged into the opening. The Javelin formation split, mages stumbling back, soldiers trying to hold a line that was already collapsing. Selena walked through the chaos, calm, her blade still lowered.

Giorno saw her coming. His eyes narrowed.

”You... you’re a bitch! Why don’t you just give up already! A woman like you won’t be able to lead this city.”

Selena stopped a few paces away. Her expression didn’t change.

”And you’re the noble who thought he could take a broken city while its people were still burying their dead.”

Giorno’s lips curled. ”You talk like you’ve already won.”

Selena tilted her head slightly. ”I’m not here to win. I’m here to defend my city.”

She raised her sword, the blade catching the firelight.

”And you’re standing in my way.”

Giorno’s jaw tightened. He looked at the collapsing line behind him, then at Selena. His hand moved to his own sword.

”Fine. If you want to die so badly, I’ll oblige.”

Selena stepped forward.

”Good. Then stop talking and draw.”

Giorno drew his sword. It was a fine blade, ornate, with gold filigree along the guard and a gemstone set in the pommel. The kind of weapon a noble carried to look dangerous, not to actually be dangerous.

Selena’s sword looked simple. It was just a well-maintained steel blade with a worn leather hilt.

They clashed for the same reason: to decide who deserved to rule this city.

Giorno was faster than Selena expected. His first strike came in high, a clean diagonal slash aimed at her shoulder. She parried, the impact ringing through her arm, and stepped back.

He pressed the advantage, swinging again and again. His form was textbook, every movement drilled into him since childhood. He fought like a man who had been trained by the best tutors money could buy.

But Selena had been trained by war.

She let him exhaust himself. Each strike she deflected, each thrust she sidestepped. Her breathing stayed calm. Her eyes never left his shoulders, watching for the tell that would come before every attack.

Then she saw Giorno’s right shoulder dipped, just slightly, before he lunged.

Selena stepped into the strike.

She caught his blade with hers, twisted, and drove her pommel into his wrist. His sword spun from his grip and clattered against the rubble. Before he could react, her blade was at his throat.

”Yield.”

Giorno stared at her, eyes wide, breath ragged. His hand still stung from the blow. Blood dripped from a split in his lip where he had bitten himself.

”You... you can’t...”