Meanwhile, in a village torn apart by battle, a girl faced off against a formidable monster of equal strength to a Purple-level Knight.
The village had once been a peaceful place—small houses with thatched roofs, a central well, and fields stretching to the horizon. Now, those houses lay in ruins, their roofs scattered across the ground like broken toys. The well had collapsed into a heap of stones. The fields were scorched and cratered, smoking under a darkening sky.
Elysia Raizen stood at the heart of the destruction.
Her black hair fluttered wildly in the wind, long strands whipping around her face like living things. Her golden eyes were fixed on the creature before her, cold and calculating despite the chaos. Lightning crackled around her—not as an attack, but as an aura—golden sparks dancing across her skin, her clothes, and the blade of her raised sword.
Before her towered a Wyvern.
