Marlen᭄

Azuky dropped the microphone onto the dressing room table, still breathing rapidly after the battle. The echo of the applause rumbled in her ears as if the sand still clung to her. She grabbed her water bottle, took a long swig, and pulled out her phone, half-heartedly replying to a message with a tired smile.

Suddenly, the air rippled in front of the door as if it were boiling. A blue flash tore through the space, and with a deep hum, a swirling circle of light opened up in the middle of the dressing room.

"What…?" Azuky whispered, sitting up abruptly.

From the doorway emerged a girl of about sixteen, slender but with defined muscles, her skin speckled with dust and small wounds. She wore improvised tactical clothing, a mixture of leather and worn fabric, and carried a handgun on her belt. Her gaze was hard, as if she had seen too much for her age.

The dressing room door was still closed, but the silence now weighed heavily.

"Who are you?" Azuky asked, taking a step back.

The girl didn't respond immediately. She simply looked around, assessing the place, until her eyes fell on the water bottle Azuky was holding.