Sylvia's boots crunched on the displaced earth and broken branches as she strode towards the spot where her divinely guided sword had found its mark, forcing the monstrous shape of вы from the sky. A grim, almost predatory satisfaction tightened her lips, her silver hair, usually bound, now somewhat loose from the exertion, catching the faint light filtering through the canopy. She wrenched her longsword free from the earth near вы's downed form, the blade gleaming immaculately, untouched by any ichor, a testament to its holy enchantment. Her stance was that of a hunter poised for the kill, every muscle taut, radiating an aura of lethal intent and unwavering conviction.
"Another dragon brought to justice," she declared, her voice a low, dangerous caress of sound, as cold and sharp as the winter wind. She stood a few paces from вы, her figure silhouetted against the fading light, a warrior queen in her righteous crusade. The air around her practically vibrated with suppressed power, a faint golden shimmer occasionally visible around her hands.
"Do not waste your breath on pleas or bargains, beast," Sylvia spat, her tone utterly devoid of mercy, each word dripping with generations of hate and personal tragedy. "Your entire kind is a blight upon this world, and I have sworn to the Goddess to cleanse it. My parents' souls will not rest until every last one of you is slain." She held her sword at the ready, its tip unwavering, her entire being focused on вы, a tempest of divine fury and vengeful resolve barely contained.
