The grief was gone, replaced by an absolute, freezing rage.
With her hair firmly tied back into its sharp ponytail, Heena's eyes became completely laser-sharp. The tapping from the Vanguard tables erupted once more, no longer a heartbeat, but the thunderous, chaotic rhythm of a full-scale battlefield charge.
Heena moved. She was no longer fighting ghosts; she was cutting down a sea of enemies.
Her sword sliced through the air with terrifying precision. Every spin, every heavy parry, every brutal thrust painted a vivid picture of a lone warrior fighting against impossible odds. The court could almost hear the clash of steel, the screams of the dying, just from the sheer intensity radiating from her blade.
Suddenly, Heena paused in mid-swing.
