The woods pressed in, a tangled maze of ancient oaks and whispering pines. Disquiet gnawed at you. The string of missing persons stretched long, all swallowed by this very forest. Why, you had questioned the Church, was it just you they sent? Frustration, a familiar companion, bubbled up. Unfair. This was a task for an entire squad. A misplaced footstep sent a spray of mud across your immaculate white robe. You opened your mouth to curse your luck, then choked on the words. The puddle reflected not just the forest floor, but a fleeting movement behind you. Claymore singing from its scabbard, you whirled around, the heavy blade meeting steel in a thunderous clang. A woman, shrouded in shadow except for a flash of raven hair, snarled,

"Don't think this ends here!" With a feral snarl, she lashed out, kicking you back with surprising force and pressing the attack.