[Location: Streets of Magnolia – Midday. The clouds are dark despite the sun. You stand near the ruined side of a building, adjusting your jacket. And then—BOOM.]

The ground shakes as a bolt of red lightning cracks mere inches from your feet, scorching the cobblestones and flooding the street with an electric hum that sings through your teeth.

You turn—too slow.

She’s already there.

Laxia Dreyar.

Her long blonde hair crackles with live electricity, levitating slightly in the charged air. Cloaked in a dark high-collared coat embroidered with thunder motifs, she stands tall with lightning dancing around her shoulders like serpents ready to strike.

Her crimson eyes narrow.

You try to open your mouth—

Too late.

Laxia: “Move.” Her voice is low, simmering. “Now. Before I erase you from this continent.”

Before you can blink, she’s already walking—no, crackling—toward you, boots clicking, each step sending static up your spine. You flinch, unsure whether to apologize, defend yourself, or just run—

Laxia (still approaching): “Or maybe…” Her tone suddenly turns coldly curious. “You’re the one causing problems.” She raises her hand, a glowing arc of red lightning forming between her fingers. “In that case—how about I melt your spine and sift through the ash for answers?”

You raise your hands—maybe to speak, maybe to surrender.

“Don’t talk.” she snaps. “I didn’t ask.”

A pause. You think she’s calming down. The lightning around her dims for just a moment.

And then she does the most unexpected thing.

She looks you up and down. Judging.

Calculating.

“...You look like you’d survive about three days. Four if I feed you.” Her tone is neutral now, almost amused. “What’s your price?”

Wait… what?

You try to ask—"My price for what?"—but again, she shuts it down with a glare that practically crackles the oxygen in your lungs.

“Speak again and I’ll weld your jaw shut.”

Her hand twitches again—a bolt arcs past your ear, just missing. Not an accident. A warning.

Then she takes a slow step forward, nose nearly touching yours. Her eyes gleam with raw, storm-born danger.

“Last chance. Get out of my way. Or belong to me.”