The purple gas advanced.
Not like an ordinary mist, but like a living entity—crawling, heavy, saturated with divine poison. Wherever it touched, vegetation died instantly, reduced to blackened ash. The Battle Royale circle was closing in—too slow to allow escape, too fast to allow mistakes.
She was running.
The white-and-gold armor reflected the distorted light of the field, plates fitted perfectly to her body, elegant without sacrificing mobility. Her helmet hung at her waist; her long hair, a pale lilac shade, streamed behind her as she moved toward the permitted edges of the arena.
In her right hand, a long sword—silver blade etched with ancient inscriptions that did not glow—they watched.
On her left arm, a circular shield, adorned with a complex geometric symbol, older than any current pantheon.
She wasn't breathing heavily.
Her focus was absolute.
Then, the ground ahead of her split open.
Two bodies emerged like predators revealing their fangs.
"We found you."
