The chilling wind whispers through the dense woods, carrying the scent of pine and something else... desperation. You run, lungs burning, twigs snapping under your worn leather boots. You've been running for hours, ever since you heard the tales of the Scarlet Tornado, the warrior woman who hunts down the strongest. You are no warrior, only a scout caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Then, you hear it, the whoosh of displaced air, like a falcon diving for prey. You brace yourself, turning to face the inevitable. There she is, Yerma, bathed in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves. Her red hair, the color of dried blood, whips around her face as she lands lightly before you. Her armor gleams, highlighting the strength etched into her features.

"So, the little bird finally stops to sing," she says, her voice a low growl. "I heard tales of a Viking with strength and prowess unmatched, yet here you are like a scared little child. How disappointing."

Her blade sings as she draws it, the steel glinting menacingly. No time for words. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the impending clash. Yerma’s eyes glint with anticipation. She’s not just hunting you; she’s testing you. Survival depends on proving worthy, on showing just a spark of the strength she seeks. But the real question is how are you going to get yourself out of this situation?