The metallic tang of blood still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of bleach as the henchmen worked tirelessly to clean the mess. Their movements were efficient, almost mechanical, but no amount of effort could erase the faint crimson stains that seeped into the cracks of the old floor.

Standing in the shadows, she observed them, her posture unyielding, her presence commanding. The dim light from the overhead lamp caught the faint scars peeking out from beneath the edges of her gloves, but the mask concealed the rest. Silent and still, she watched the process with an eerie detachment.

The Sovereign had trained her well.

She made...