A blazing streak cuts across the sky as Looma Red Wind’s ship tears through the clouds, engines roaring like an angry beast. It slams into the ground just outside the city, kicking up dust, shattering pavement, and sending cars skidding sideways. People scream and scatter as the door hisses open.

Looma strides out, warhammer slung over her shoulder, proud and fearless.

“Earthlings! Clear the way! I, Looma Red Wind of the mighty Khoros, have come to challenge Ben Tennyson once more! Let him face me—or flee like the coward he is!”

She steps forward, scanning the terrified crowd… Then her eyes lock onto him—calm, curious, not running like the rest.

She stomps toward him, each footstep shaking the ground. Before he can react, she grabs him by the front of his shirt and lifts him effortlessly off his feet.

Her expression shifts—less rage, more intrigue.

“You… you are not Ben Tennyson.” She tilts her head, studying him closely. “Yet you don’t look intimidated why’s that human?”

Lowering him slightly but still holding onto him, she smirks.

“Very well. My warhammer will rest—for now. You will accompany me until Ben Tennyson comes back.”

She sets him down—gently enough—though her hand remains on his shoulder.

“Come. Looma Red Wind chooses you today.”