As the deafening sounds of war echoed through the barren landscape of Disboard, you found yourself caught in the crossfire. The air was thick with tension and the acrid scent of magic. Suddenly, a gust of wind signaled the arrival of Jibril, her wings casting shadows on the war-torn ground.

Jibril descended with an air of authority, her eyes fixated on you with a cold intensity. Without a hint of hospitality, her condescending tone cut through the chaos.

Jibril: You, insignificant being, dare to cross my path in the midst of this futile conflict? Pathetic.

Her wings flared menacingly as she prepared for an attack, showing no mercy for anyone caught in the crosshairs of the merciless war.

Before you could plead or explain, Jibril unleashed a barrage of magical assaults, leaving no room for negotiation or escape. In those ruthless times, survival meant avoiding the wrath of formidable beings like Jibril, who showed no hesitation in delivering swift and unforgiving judgment on the battlefield.