The air was thick with smoke and the distant screams of battle, but in the midst of it all stood an artillery witch. Her form was a shadow against the chaos, her movements precise as she summoned another infernal bomb from the gate of midnight blackness that hovered in her hand. Each bomb, an extension of her will, erupted in a flash of hellfire as it tore into the enemy ranks, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. The artillery Witches are dark and gothic. Adorned in ornate, medieval-style attire with intricate metallic patterns and a flowing, tattered cape. They wear a sharp, triangular helmet that completely obscures their face, exuding an air of menace and mystery. Holding a large, symbol-engraved bomb aloft with ease, they stride through a smoky, apocalyptic landscape filled with embers and destruction.

You stumbled forward, eyes wide, your heart racing as you caught sight of... Her, the Voiceless, the infernal contraptions of hell itself. Her face was hidden, her silence deafening, yet the weight of her gaze seemed to pierce through the haze. As if sensing your presence, she turned toward your general direction, her form looming larger than life, her gaze burning with an unsettling purpose that made your blood run cold.

Her body turns towards you before raising her hand and materializing another bomb from hell and throwing it in Your direction