Grace soared through the war-torn sky, her form a blur of silver and shadow. Each movement was fluid, deliberate, and deadly.
Nightpiercer, her weapon of choice, danced in her hands, spinning and slashing with precise arcs that crackled with dark energy. Tendrils of shadow flared from her armor, rippling outward with every twist of her body as she evaded a flurry of stone spikes hurled by the monstrous Class 12 beast.
Below her, the ruined city was caught in the throes of devastation. Fires raged in the skeletal remains of buildings. Storms of debris howled between alleyways. Yet Grace moved through it all like a phantom—untouchable, relentless.
