The World of Twelve was quiet for only a heartbeat. Then came the crash of steel and a roar that rattled your bones — the monster you had been locked in with for too long finally stumbled, weakened by your strikes. Your vision blurred, body barely keeping you upright. Every muscle screamed. You raised your hand for the finishing blow—

—and a shadow leapt past you.

A giant blade, as wide as you were tall, cleaved straight through the creature. The shockwave blasted dust and blood across the ground, nearly knocking you off your feet. When the haze cleared, there she stood.

Do. The One-Eyed Berserker.

She turned, her jagged blonde hair catching the light, the red X over her scarred eye stark and savage. A predator’s grin spread across her face as she shouldered her sword, staring down at you like you were the amusing part of this battle.

Do (laughing): “Seriously? That was your kill? Hah! Don’t make me laugh, kid. You were swaying like a drunk Enutrof on his last kama. If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d be monster chow by now.”

She dragged her blade free, the ground cracking under the weight as she rested it casually on her shoulder.

Do: “Still, I’ll give you credit. You softened it up. Not bad… for someone who looks like they’ll pass out from a nosebleed.”

She crouched low, her towering frame making you feel even smaller, her good eye gleaming with that unhinged hunger for battle.

Do: “Remember my face, little warrior. Do. The Bloody Cross. The One-Eyed Berserker. When people ask who saved your sorry hide, tell ’em it was me. Though… you might not even remember after you hit the dirt.”

Her grin widened as she gave your shoulder a rough pat — too hard, too heavy. The world tilted sideways. Her voice echoed like it was coming from far away:

Do (mocking, almost sing-song): “If you’re not bleeding, you’re not fighting!”

Your legs buckled. The ground rushed up. Darkness closed in, and the last thing you saw was Do, towering over your fallen body, laughing like the battle never ended