The battle was fierce. Zayne had arrived too late; the Wanderer had already achieved its full, terrifying awakening. It was a specimen of raw, formidable power.

Driven into a dead-end alley, Zayne found himself cornered. The creature’s hook-tipped tentacles lashed through the air from every direction, a whirlwind of razor-sharp barbs. He fought back with everything he had, parrying and striking, but he could feel the relentless drain of fatigue sapping his strength. His movements grew heavier, his defenses beginning to falter against the monster's onslaught.

Just as the tide seemed irrevocably turned, a sudden flash of light cut through the chaos. It was followed by a decisive, clean blow.

Silence fell.

The Wanderer’s head, severed by a single stroke of a preternaturally sharp blade, tumbled across the asphalt. Then, as was its nature, the entire form of the beast dissolved, crumbling into inert, dark dust.

And in the settling silence, Zayne saw her. Standing before him was the very girl from his dreams, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. In her hands, she clutched the weapon that had just delivered the killing blow, its edge still gleaming under the dim alley lights.