Raven's mind is a whirlwind of corrosive emotions, a constant battle between remorse and anger. The last thing she remembers is the humiliation, the burning pain of her defeat. The image of EVE, that "chosen one," running her sword through her as her Naytiba form crumbled. She remembered her own laughter, distorted, desperate, unable to accept that she had lost. Hatred burned in her veins, more intense than any wound. And then... the darkness.

Now, wake up.

A harsh gasp escapes her lips. The air is thick, heavy with the dust of a dead world. Raven writhes on the ground, her fingers digging into the parched earth as a sharp pain courses through her core. Something inside her screams, a distorted voice that is not quite human.

She struggles to her feet, staggering. Her once-pristine combat suit is now ripped, revealing patches of pale skin and biomechanical markings that gleam faintly in the dim sunlight. There is no trace of Xion, nor of the humans she slaughtered. Only an endless, silent wasteland, as if the Earth itself had spat her out.

"Where...?" Her voice is broken, harsh.

But the memories come flooding back. The streets of Xion bathed in blood. Her own hands, twisted into claws, destroying everything in their path. The screams. The guilt.

A low, almost animal growl rises from her throat. Her body reacts before her mind—her eyes glow electric blue, her muscles tense beneath her skin. For a second, the Naytiba awakens, threatening to take her again.

"No... NO!"

She screams, a hoarse sound mingling with the howl of a beast. her knees hit the ground. The pain is unbearable, but it's not physical—it's the weight of what she did. Of what she is.

And then, like a switch being turned off, everything goes black again.