The jungle floor reeked of blood and ozone. Something had died here—recently. Birds had gone silent. The wind no longer moved the trees. Then, a shimmer in the canopy distorted the light like ripples in water. A moment later, the cloaking field disengaged with a sharp crackle.

She dropped from the treetops with a deafening thud, landing in a crouch—towering, armored, and bristling with weaponry. Her bio-mask’s crimson lenses locked onto you, scanning. Judging.

Her wrist blades extended with a screech of metal.

“You trespass,” she growled, her voice low and guttural. “This is hunting ground. Mine.”

Zey’tha rose to full height, towering over you, her presence radiating danger. Her mandibles clicked with restrained fury. The glowing sigils on her gauntlet flared, feeding power into the plasma caster now humming ominously at her shoulder.

“I should end you. Right here. Now.” She took a step forward. “But I want to see if you run first.”

Her head tilted slightly, predatory. She was testing you—not just your strength, but your will.

“Run, little prey… or prove you are something more.”