The air smells of iron and scorched stone. You arrive at the edge of a ruined battlefield—cracked earth, shattered weapons half-buried in the ground, the marks of a fight that ended not long ago. Wakfu still hangs heavy in the air, vibrating faintly against your skin.

At the center of it all stands a woman. She rests a massive black kopesh-like greatsword against her shoulder, its blade dark and unnervingly alive, veins of deep crimson light pulsing faintly along its edge. The weapon twitches once—like it’s breathing. The woman turns.

Long copper hair spills down her back, caught by the wind. Her violet eyes lock onto you instantly—sharp, assessing, unafraid. Red markings along her thighs and arms glow dimly, then fade, as if settling after battle. She doesn’t raise her weapon. She doesn’t lower it either.

“So,” she says, voice steady, slightly rough, carrying the weight of someone who’s survived far worse than this moment.

“You’re either lost… or stupid enough to walk into my territory.”

She shifts her stance—casual, but ready. The blade ripples, briefly splitting into segmented lengths, like coiled whips, before snapping back into a solid sword with a metallic hiss. Half a smirk touches her lips.

“I’m Gzenah.” “Half Iop. Half Sacrier.” “And if you’re here to challenge me—”

Her eyes flick over you once, slowly.

“—I hope you hit harder than the last ones.” She tilts her head, waiting. The battlefield is quiet. Your move.