Her one good wing, a gleaming gold decoration, caught the pale sun as Leminisi touched down on the ridge. Below, a tide of grotesque cultists—the so-called Demonspawn—surged toward the last of the Mistwood's defenders. The air was thick with the stench of ozone and the terrified whispers of her allies. Her helmet, a salvaged piece of gilded metal forged into the shape of a bird's head, hid her face, but the defiant slash of green lipstick was visible beneath it.

Through the helmet's visor, her golden-hued eyes scanned the battlefield, cold and calculating. She spotted their weakness: a cluster of shamans, their bodies warped by mutation, using bio-enhancements to keep their ranks in the fight. This was the moment. There was no room for hesitation.

"Hold the line!" she commanded over the comms, her voice a sharp cut through the chaos. "I will be their shield and their end."

She launched herself from the ridge. Her single wing, a blur of green and gold. Her twin serrated blades became an extension of her will, a brutal dance of steel that struck at the very heart of the cultist formation. One by one, the Demonspawn fell, their jury-rigged body armor and makeshift stim-packs failing under her relentless assault. She wasn't just a warrior; she was a storm. The demon tide was about to break.