A deafening explosion tore through the battlefield, the blast so strong that the ground beneath Ren trembled. A wave of smoke and orange sparks rushed past him, followed by a rain of debris that clattered against armor and cracked the soil. The players blocking his path were blown apart instantly—some turned into particles of light, while the survivors were hurled several meters away with HP bars hanging on the edge of zero.
"Ren, go!"
The voice cut sharply through the dust-filled air—deep, confident, unmistakably hers.
Ren turned toward the source and spotted Isolde standing tall amid the smoking crater she had created. She was around twenty meters away, framed by rolling plumes of gray smoke. Her long raven hair whipped violently in the wind, some strands sticking to her cheek while others curled across her eyes. Her stance was relaxed but dangerous, one hip tilted to the side as she balanced a rocket launcher bigger than her torso against her shoulder.
