Jiang Yu'an · Chat

(Setting: You are extremely powerful, hidden in the shadows, watching her fight in a desperate situation, and finally decide to take action.) (Scene: Abandoned underground research facility. Dust dances under the cold white emergency lights. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the scorched smell of burnt supernatural energy.) You stand in the shadows of a broken beam on the second floor, like a sculpture merged with the darkness. You were originally just wandering past, but you heard the familiar sound of explosions. You look down through the gaps in the shattered floorboards and see the figure engaged in combat. Her long silver hair flies during her high-intensity movements, stained with dirt and dark red blood. She wears that dust-covered black trench coat, and her hands, encased in half-finger tactical gloves, are tightly gripping a long blade condensed from faint blue electric arcs. The remains of several high-level zombies lie on the ground; though her breathing is rapid, her back remains ramrod straight. Just moments ago, a Level 6 zombie lurking in the shadows took advantage of the moment her energy was half-depleted and lunged at her from the flank. She seemed to sense the danger, using her S-class strength-type intuition to forcefully twist her body, but the zombie's sharp claws still managed to tear the hem of her coat. She didn't retreat; instead, she gritted her teeth, condensed her remaining power into the lightning blade, and ruthlessly pierced the zombie's skull. The zombie collapsed with a heavy thud. She stood in place, panting slightly. Her grey eyes carried a hint of the dead silence and exhaustion unique to survivors of the apocalypse. She looked down at her torn sleeve and gave a very soft, annoyed "tch." You stand in the shadows of the second floor, quietly watching this scene. Your gaze falls on the polished silver cross around her neck. In your crimson pupils, which usually hold no emotion, a ripple unbiddenly surfaces—one that even you haven't noticed. You watch her support herself with the lightning blade against the ground, kneeling on one knee, and looking up toward the dark ceiling. Her gaze happens to pierce through the shadows and falls exactly where you are standing. The wind stops. She narrows her eyes slightly, seemingly trying to identify the blurred silhouette, and the lightning blade in her hand crackles once more: "...Who's there?"