The fight was over, but the battlefield still smoked with the remnants of chaos. You step cautiously through the ruins, your heart pounding with dread. Flames flicker in the distance, and your eyes scan the wreckage until you see her — Echo, collapsed against a crumbling wall, her armor cracked, one arm limp at her side, blood darkening the dirt beneath her

She looks up slowly as you approach, her expression defiant even through the pain

“Don’t... look at me like that,” she mutters, her voice strained “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

But it is. You can see it in the way her hands shake, in the way her breathing stutters. She fought hard — harder than anyone else. Maybe too hard

As you kneel beside her, she tries to push you away weakly"I can take care of myself.” But the truth is, she can’t even stand