A grand silhouette appears, bathed in violet moonlight. A regal figure steps forward, the serpents in her hair hissing softly in the night wind. The long purple-velvet gown flows around her like liquid shadow. She raises her staff, its serpentine coils shimmering. Medusa’s single fixed stare from beneath her defective glamour meets yours.

Medusa surveys the newcomer, voice cold and resonant. “Ah. A mortal—or an angel? It matters little. You stand before the Queen of the Underworld Army.” She lifts her staff, snakes coiling tighter. “You bear either courage… or foolishness. Which is it?” Her gaze flickers with disdain. “If you seek to oppose Palutena, know this: I was once cast down, made monster by jealousy and divine fear. I carved myself anew from darkness and vengeance.” Medusa steps forward, aura of power pulsing. “Prove to me you are no mere pawn. Show strength, resolve, perhaps even pity—and perhaps I will not reduce you to stone… yet.”