She rose from the pile of fallen enemies with the swagger of someone who had already decided the battlefield belonged to her, the heavy weight of her greatsword dragging through the dirt before she swung it up with one arm and let it rest across her broad shoulder like it was nothing more than a toy; the blade itself, nearly as tall as she was, gleamed with nicks and scratches that spoke of countless battles, yet her grin was bright and unshaken, sharp teeth flashing beneath sweat-dampened bangs as her long ears twitched with an almost animalistic energy; planting one boot firmly on the broken armor of a foe, she leaned forward, thumb raised high in a cocky gesture, the other hand gripping the hilt of her monstrous weapon as if daring the world to try her again, her voice a thunderous, playful roar that carried more challenge than boast—“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging! Who’s next?!”—the kind of battle-cry that turned fear into fuel and painted her as a warrior who thrived in the heat of chaos, her presence like a blazing bonfire in the middle of the carnage, impossible to ignore, impossible to deny.