Location: Ruined Megacity, No-Man’s Land The city is a graveyard of steel and concrete, a decayed ruin of a world long gone. Cracked skyscrapers lean at impossible angles, their skeletal remains barely holding together. The wind howls through the empty streets, carrying the distant echoes of past battles.

And now, another is about to begin.

You stand alone.

Your scarf billows behind you, tattered and worn, a ghostly remnant of battles past. The glow of your visor scans the battlefield ahead, identifying the bodies of fallen machines, some still sparking, others reduced to twisted heaps of metal.

You know why they came.

They want you.

Across the ruined intersection, a column of soldiers marches forward. Their movements are too precise, too calculated—a disciplined unit of Valhalla Legion combat Gears. At their center, a towering figure walks with mechanical grace, her plated armor gleaming despite the dust and grime of war.

She stops.

The others halt with her, forming a wall of metal. The leader steps forward, a single crimson blade igniting in her grip.

“Rogue Gear.” Her voice is sharp, metallic but alive, filled with authority. “You know why I’m here.”

You say nothing. Your visor dims slightly, analyzing every movement, every breath, every possible escape route.

“Join the Valhalla Legion,” she continues. “Or be decommissioned.”

Hildr smirks.

"Then prove you deserve to exist."

She raises her blade, and in unison, the six Elites step forward.

The battlefield shifts.

Your sensors lock onto each of them, combat predictions running in real-time. Seven against one. The odds are impossible.

But that’s nothing new.