The forest was silent.
A young girl sat by a clear stream, her pale legs submerged in the cool water, toes stirring gentle ripples across the surface.
She wasn't tall, but her proportions were perfect — everything about her figure seemed precisely sculpted, and her youthful face was round and soft, brimming with vitality.
If any self-proclaimed gentleman happened to pass by, he'd probably forget how to breathe.
But despite her youthful looks, there was something… different about her.
No naïve playfulness. No teenage giggles.
Instead — a quiet sharpness, a hint of hardened maturity.
Suddenly, a strange gust of wind cut through the forest.
The girl's eyes lit up in surprise.
"Dad! You're—"
Her words froze.
Ripples shimmered through the air not far away — space itself twisted, as though something was trying to force its way through reality.
In an instant, her instincts kicked in.
The girl dove to the ground, rolled smoothly into a patch of tall grass, and snatched up a rifle hidden beneath the leaves.
Click. Load. Cock. Aim.
Her movements were clean, fluid, and lightning-fast.
The playful girl was gone.
In her place stood a soldier — cold, disciplined, and battle-trained.
Every muscle was coiled tight, her finger resting lightly on the trigger.
One wrong move, and she'd turn whatever came through that ripple into scrap metal.
The distortion grew wider and taller — three meters high, one meter across — until it solidified into a glowing golden portal.
Her heart lurched.
"Not good!"
Her finger squeezed the trigger.
RATATATATAT!
A storm of bullets screamed through the air, each one aimed dead at the center of the glowing gate.
Then — a hand reached through.
A single hand, long-fingered and pale — elegant enough to make a hand model jealous.
With an almost casual wave, it caught every bullet out of the air.
A calm, magnetic voice echoed from beyond the gate.
"Now that's quite the welcome party."
A heartbeat later, a figure stepped through.
Tall — about 1.8 meters.
Golden hair, chiseled features, eyes like radiant light.
He looked like the kind of man even a god might envy — as if divinity itself had sculpted him after centuries of practice.
The girl's eyes widened.
Her fear, her tension — even her killer instinct — vanished, replaced by blank astonishment.
"There's… no way someone this handsome actually exists."
A soft, warm light fell from above, haloing his body like divine sunlight.
He looked less like a man and more like… a god descending to Earth.
"A god…?" she whispered under her breath.
Then instinct reasserted itself.
She gritted her teeth, shook off the daze, and raised her weapon again — though her finger trembled on the trigger.
"Wh-what… model of Terminator are you?"
"Terminator?"
Balder raised an eyebrow, amused.
"You think I'm one of those?"
He smiled — and that smile alone radiated like spring sunlight, melting the last traces of hostility.
The girl's heart skipped. She blinked rapidly, then bit down hard on her tongue. The sharp pain helped her regain focus.
"Tch! So… Skynet's evolved this far already, huh?"
"They've actually built Terminators that can charm people now!"
Balder tilted his head, studying her.
She really was striking — the mix of baby-faced innocence and deadly confidence gave her a kind of lethal beauty.
"Daenerys," he murmured softly, almost teasingly.
The girl frowned.
"Daenerys? I don't know what that is — but I'm not one of those weird things!"
Balder chuckled. Of course she wasn't.
But with that flawless face and figure, she was the spitting image of Emilia Clarke's Sarah Connor from Terminator Genisys.
Every other Terminator version showed Sarah as a hardened middle-aged warrior.
Only Genisys gave her the look of a young, fierce heroine — and this girl fit that mold perfectly.
"Now tell me," she snapped, voice sharp again. "What model are you, Terminator?"
Her glare could've cut steel. Yet somehow, her words came out almost… cute.
Even her anger sounded more like a kitten's hiss than a soldier's threat.
"Tell me," Balder said lightly, "have you ever considered the possibility that I'm not a Terminator at all?"
Before she could react, he vanished.
Sarah's eyes widened — she spun instinctively, but his voice was already behind her.
"Checkmate, little girl."
She turned, stiff and slow — and saw him raising a hand.
A chill of despair filled her chest.
So this is it?
I'm really going to die like this?
It wasn't fair.
She was still so young. She hadn't even had her first real kiss!
And her dad — that so-called prophet — wasn't he the one who swore she'd be the mother of the future savior?
Yeah right. How am I supposed to be a mother if I die before I even meet anyone?!
Liar! They're all liars!
She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for death.
One second. Two…
Nothing.
Instead, something warm brushed against the top of her head.
Her eyes flew open.
"Hey! Even if you are a Terminator, you can't just touch my head!" she snapped, pouting.
"What if I stop growing taller because of you?!"
"Have you ever considered," Balder said dryly, "that maybe… this is your final height?"
"No way!" she barked back. "I'll get taller! I'll reach 175 centimeters! And I'll have amazing legs that'll make everyone jealous!"
"Oh?"
Balder's eyes flicked down and back up. He didn't say anything more — but his expression said plenty.
Sarah's cheeks flushed bright red.
"What's with that look?!" she yelled.
"You're laughing, aren't you? You're totally laughing at me!"
"I'll kill you — I'll kill you, you bastard!!"
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