The hall exploded into chaos.
Velvet-clad nobles screamed, bolting from their cushioned seats as if the air itself had caught fire.
Silken gowns tore on banisters, fine boots skidded on polished marble now slick with arterial spray. The elf auctioneer's twitching body slumped against the podium, his head rolling to a stop near a toppled wine goblet.
At the center of it all stood the tigerkin woman—chains shattered, golden mana crackling wildly around her like a corona of divine fury. Her fur was streaked with blood, her golden eyes glowing with raw, primal hatred.
Above, two Syndicate enforcers leapt from the upper balcony, sabers gleaming under chandeliers.
"Neutralize her! Do it now!" one barked, mid-fall.
But Rahna was already moving.
The world slowed as golden afterimages trailed behind her. Her bare feet left cracks in the marble as she vanished, then appeared in front of the first enforcer mid-sentence.
A pulse of mana blasted outward as her palm struck his chest.
