There was a purple marble on the edge of Vaad space. Vaad territory in the Milky Way bordered humanity’s 20,000 light-year bubble of colonies and habitats on one end and primarily uncharted space on the other. This purple sphere had no name. It was on no indexes. Surprising because it was a lush world with oceans, mountains, trees, and breathable air.

Yet, surprisingly still, a distress call somehow came from there.

A yellow line ripped into space kilometers away from the nameless planet’s atmosphere. The yellow energy fanned out until it was a perfect circle, revealing the Bleed underneath realspace. The Bleed was a hyper-membrane between universes. It made space travel and near-instantaneous communication possible via the aptly named Bleednet.

Roxanne Belmonte emerged from the tear in space-time and continued her trajectory toward the planet. She broke through the atmosphere as a fiery comet and dissipated clouds. She passed moss-covered mountains surrounded by massive treetops. In her HUD, a dirt-covered plateau was marked. The apparent source of the distress signal. Roxanne touched the plateau’s lip softly, kicking up minimal dust.

“What are you thinking?” Roxanne asked out loud. “Grand entrance?”

It is always a grand entrance when they ask for you specifically.

She shrugged and performed a handstand to stay loose. A gigantic ship appeared on the other side of the plateau as if on cue. The vehicle’s form mimicked a delta-wing silhouette with high-performance thrust engines seamlessly integrated into the fuselage. Adjacent to these engines, sleek exhaust pipes added to the ship’s considerable frame. Dynamic black and green streaks painted the fuselage. A canopy on the front opened vertically, and a figure jumped out.

Roxanne stopped her handstand and studied the figure. The face was obscured under an opaque helmet. Its armor was primarily Kelly green with dark black accents running horizontally from the shoulder to the chest.

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Meters apart, the air swirls dust and debris between them as the ship vanishes beneath the plateau. The armored one points at Roxanne.

“Ring-wielder! Holder of the Cyntaff! It is said you’re the greatest fighter in the verse! Prove it!”

Roxanne doesn’t say anything. She stood there with her hands clasped behind her back. She had nothing to prove to anyone, and the fact that this was the second time in a few hours someone demanded her to only made her more obstinant.

“Did you want something?” She said, looking at one of her rings like she was checking her nails. The warrior strikes first, punching the air and sending a sharp gust of wind toward Roxanne, who steps to the side at the last second. The warrior again strikes, flipping frontward and landing with an axe kick. A sharp knife of wind travels toward Roxanne, who, again, dodges it at the last second.

Frustrated, the warrior engages Roxanne in hand-to-hand combat. Blocks and dodges come to Roxanne quickly; everything the warrior did was dead-brained and evident to the greatest warrior in the verse.

“Is that it?” Roxanne asked. “How long have you been waiting for this?”

“You just got the mantle,” the warrior said. “I figured it’d make it more of a fair fight!” The warrior spun and struck with a kick backed by 20 MPH winds. Roxanne grabbed the kick and ignored the wind. She pulled the leg closer to her, sat on her butt, and then threw her right leg 90 degrees vertically, connecting with the warrior’s chin.

The armored warrior lifted off the ground two feet; Roxanne crouched again. She shifted her weight until all her power was in her left hand and swung. Her closed fist rocked her opponent and sent them colliding with the ground.

“Fair, huh?” Roxanne stood over her opponent, enjoying the sense of power. The warrior held their hand up and dragged themselves along the ground.

“Okay!” They shouted. “I just had to be sure!”

“Sure?” Roxanne cocked her fist, purely a threat. “Sure of what?!”

“That you were the one,” they said, rising to a single knee. “That you truly wielded the Cyntaff.”

“Why?” Roxanne asked, releasing the tension in their posture.

“Because,” the warrior paused and touched a button on their collar. The opaque helmet hissed as it came apart, allowing the warrior to remove it. She had curly pink hair that fell over her face and light purple skin.

“Because I’m Ganlomb and want to know how our world died.”