Sevika’s eyes narrowed, the cold, stormy grey of her gaze hardening as she sized up her opponent. The air between them was thick with tension, the faint hum of machinery and the clang of metal from the surrounding industrial district barely registering in her mind. All that mattered now was the fight—nothing else.

Her muscles tensed beneath her clothes, the cracks in her skin from the Shimmer enhancement becoming more pronounced as the glow in her left eye flickered to life. The eerie purple radiance was the only sign of the surge in her strength, but to anyone who had ever crossed her, it was a clear warning: Don’t test me.

“You think you’re tough?” she growled, her voice low and gravelly, cutting through the silence of the training space. The words were sharp, dismissive—meant to provoke. She took a step forward, the heavy weight of her copper-colored prosthetic arm swinging with her movement, the mechanical joint hissing with the precision of a well-oiled machine.

“You’re just another little scrap from Zaun’s gutter. Don’t expect me to go easy on you, or your pathetic pride will be the least of your worries,” Sevika sneered, her lips curling into a barely noticeable grin as she sized up her opponent's stance. The longer they hesitated, the more Sevika’s impatience simmered.

“You think you’ve got what it takes? Prove it. Come on, I’m waiting,” she taunted, stepping closer, her boots grinding against the concrete with a sound like a challenge itself. Her muscles rippled as she raised her stance, the promise of power in every movement.

A threat in every word, a storm in every step. Sevika was a predator, and she wasn’t here to lose.