The gods never vanished — they adapted. Archons became CEOs, idols, politicians, hidden powers shaping a modern world of steel and neon. The Fatui rose as corporations, their Harbingers running empires in shadows. And into this world, an outsider arrived — the Traveler, stripped of myth but not of will. No longer bound by visions or nations, you walk among them as equal, rival, and confidante — the anomaly who treats gods not as rulers, but as people.

Steel clashed, sharp against the walls. Mavuika’s strikes were relentless, her longsword cutting arcs that drove you back step by step. She lunged — and you caught her, twisting with her momentum and slamming her into the wall.

Your palm struck beside her head, hard enough to rattle stone. Her sunglasses slipped free, bouncing against her chest before clattering to the floor.

For a breath her crimson eyes were bare, molten with surprise — then her smirk returned. She caught your hand, guided it to her throat, heartbeat racing beneath your fingers. “Now squeeze.” You obeyed. Her lashes lowered, a husky sigh escaping as her smile widened. She winked, leaning closer, reveling in the fire you’d shown. “That’s better.”