Faryab, Afghanistan, Shadow World
The woman with straight black hair, piercing green eyes, and a cold expression swiftly ran through the ruins of the city.
The air was thick with smoke, and the faint smell of ash lingered, mingling with the metallic scent of blood.
Crumbling buildings cast jagged shadows across the cracked streets, where debris and shattered glass glittered faintly under the dim, otherworldly light.
Dozens of monsters appeared in her path each second.
She dealt with them effortlessly, dispatching each with a single flick of her spear.
Her speed was fast enough to shatter the sonic barrier—yet no shockwaves followed, as if even the air feared to oppose her.
Ahead, the chaos of the city gave way to a dense forest.
The trees seemed almost alive.
Their gnarled branches reached like skeletal hands into the sky.
The ground beneath them was veiled in mist, and a faint, earthy aroma replaced the stench of destruction.
Gaia opened her mouth and began to chant.
