Inside the Ashford capital, destruction reigned.
Buildings lay in ruins, streets were split and burning, mana smoke rose into the sky. Sirens blared. Civilians ran for their lives while Awakeners and soldiers fought desperately to hold the line against any remaining miasma creatures.
On one of the shattered streets, Evangeline sprinted forward, coat flaring behind her.
In her hands were two beautiful yet deadly Desert Eagle pistols, their silver bodies engraved with faint runes. She fired without pause, each trigger pull unleashing bullets infused with mana.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Every shot she took was a headshot.
Black miasma creatures leaping toward fleeing civilians suddenly snapped back as their cores were destroyed, their bodies dissolving into smoke that vanished in the wind. Evangeline moved like a dancer in the chaos—dodging slashing claws by a hair's breadth, sliding under sweeping arms, spinning and firing mid-motion.
Her accuracy was terrifying.
