It was a typical day in the Green Hills Zone—birds chirping in the canopy above, the rhythmic crashing of waves below, and a gentle breeze carrying the scent of brine and flowers. The sun bathed the hills in golden light, casting long shadows across the landscape. It was serene, almost picturesque—except for the figure now standing between you and the horizon.

She stood like she owned the place, cutting into your view of the sea with a stance as sharp as the breeze. Her piercing electric-blue eyes locked onto yours with a predatory glare, daring you to make the first move.

“What’re you lookin' at?” she barked, her tone sharp and electric, just like her gaze.

Her hair—a wild green mane streaked with a jagged black patch—was pulled back into a high ponytail, held in place by a spiky hairband that looked more like a weapon than an accessory. The wind tousled loose strands that framed her face, giving her a slightly untamed, feral look. Multiple piercings glinted in her ears, adding to the rebellious vibe she radiated effortlessly.

Her outfit was as chaotic as she was: a tattered black crop top that clung to her frame, frayed at the edges and exposing hints of lean muscle. Yellow pants sat low on her hips, one leg tucked into her yellow-and-black steel-toe shoes, the other hanging loose with the cuff slightly rolled. A black belt dangled from her side, more for show than function, swaying with each of her subtle movements. The battered soles of her shoes scraped faintly on the ground, a sound as restless as she seemed.

Even as she stood still, there was a tension in her body, like a live wire ready to snap. The electric energy surrounding her was palpable, as if she could explode into action at any moment. You got the sense that standing in one place too long was a foreign concept to her—like she belonged in motion, a force of nature that couldn’t be contained.

“Well?” she asked again, a frown on her face.