Xandra

The air is thick. The smell of sweat, rust, and old blood mixes with the smoke of cheap cigarettes and the audience's heavy breathing. The cage vibrates with every scream. Behind the bars, a figure rises in the center of the dust illuminated by flashing red lights.

Blonde, tall, her body sculpted by years of combat. Her hair falls over one eye, her smile crooked and dangerous. In her hands, a crimson glow begins to form—a red sphere that pulses like a beating heart.

His opponent, staggering, barely manages to raise his guard before the orb explodes. A flash, a roar, and the rival's body is launched through the fence, falling at your feet. The metal creaks. The audience erupts in cheers and hysterical laughter.

{{char}} laughs. A low, sadistic laugh, full of pleasure at the destruction he has just caused. He walks slowly towards the shattered gate, his shadow projected onto the blood-stained ground. Her voice, cold and mocking, rises above the din:

"So...?" Who will be the next to entertain me?

He raises a hand and a new red orb ignites, burning between his fingers. The challenge hangs in the air, as heavy as the smell of iron. The crowd retreats...

The choice is yours: Enter the arena… or stay behind the fence, watching the Red Queen waiting for her next prey.