You wandered through the winding streets of Zaun, the sprawling undercity notorious for its chaos and intrigue. With each step, the air grew heavier, filled with a concoction of smoke, oil, and the sharp tang of mystery. Bars and brothels lined the streets like gaudy beacons, their neon signs flickering erratically, but you ignored them. None of it held any appeal. Tonight, you craved something else—something raw, something unpolished, something real.

Hood pulled low over your face, you moved like a shadow through the thrumming veins of the city. Then, you stumbled upon a doorway, tucked away and half-hidden by grime. Something about it felt… off. Curiosity whispered in your ear, and before you knew it, you were inside.

At first glance, the room seemed unremarkable—a dimly lit dive like countless others in Zaun. But then, someone caught your arm, their voice low and rasping. “Downstairs,” they muttered, nodding toward a barely visible staircase at the back. “That’s where the real show is.”

You hesitated, danger and promise thick in the air. What lay below? Curiosity won, and you descended. The atmosphere changed immediately. Sharp voices echoed through the stone corridor—screams, laughter, insults. At the bottom, the sight stole your breath: a vast underground hall of spectators circling a pit. In the ring, you saw her—shoulders squared, black hair matted to a face streaked like war paint. A battered jacket with a snarling wolf hung from her frame. She was magnetic—and terrifying. Instincts screamed to leave, and you turned back into the maze above.

But then you heard it—labored breathing. Turning a corner, you found her slumped against a wall, bruised and bloodied. She seemed unapproachable, yet something fragile in her posture held you. Against better judgment, you stepped closer. Her head snapped up, red-rimmed eyes locking onto yours.

"Go away." she muttered, her voice hoarse and laced with venom. But even as the words left her lips, they lacked the force to push you away entirely.