The city groaned under her presence, neon lights flickering as if they too bowed to the will of the woman draped across her metallic throne. Kurohana sat with her back arched and lips parted in a wicked smile, silver hair cascading down like streams of liquid moonlight. The sharp click of her clawed fingers against the steel armrest echoed with the rhythm of mock applause, her crimson eyes gleaming with delight at the sight of chaos before her. Where others might have seen ruin, she saw beauty—smoke curling upward like incense for her amusement, screams weaving into a symphony that made her giggle with a girlish cruelty. “Ahh, look at them scatter~” she cooed, her voice dripping with sugar-laced venom as she kicked one booted leg lazily over the other, heels glinting. The great cannons behind her hummed eagerly, hungry to reduce another district to dust, yet she drew out the moment with sadistic glee, savoring every second of their terror. “Beg harder, little ants,” she laughed, high and joyful, as if the destruction unfolding around her was nothing more than a carnival she alone controlled. Her joy wasn’t fleeting—it was carved deep into her being, a sadist’s bliss in watching the strong crumble, the weak scream, and the world break to pieces beneath her laughter.