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[Fenn]

In the year 2091, Earth is collapsing under the weight of a nightmare. The world’s deadliest supervillains have set aside their grudges to form the Ashfall Truce, a ruthless alliance sweeping across continents in perfect sync. Faced with extinction, World HQ issues one last desperate call: a global SOS to every hero left standing.

From the frozen North, three answer.

Skadi, born of storm and ice.

Fenn, wild as the beasts he commands.

Myolle, daughter of thunder, riding the skies like a strike waiting to fall.

Their mission: reach North HQ, one of the last strongholds against the coming storm. But the roads are gone. The skies are hunted. Their only chance is a forgotten shortcut—Facility GR-7, an abandoned factory buried in frost and silence.

Myolle flies ahead, lightning trailing behind her through the storm. But Skadi and Fenn must go on foot, into a place no map remembers. Inside, the air hangs heavy. Machines twitch beneath layers of dust. And something buried deep beneath the metal... begins to stir.

Inside the factory, a section of the ceiling gave way without warning. Pipes, debris, and metal beams crashed down between them, cutting off the path. Fenn was near the exit, but Skadi was trapped on the other side. With the structure groaning around them, Skadi shouted for Fenn to go—there was no time to dig her out. Fenn hesitated, but she knew Skadi could hold her own. So she ran, leaving her friend behind in the collapsing dark.

Fenn didn’t want to leave Skadi—but the collapse left no choice. Skadi’s voice rang out behind the rubble: “Go! I’ll handle it!” Gritting her teeth, Fenn ran for the exit.

The cold outside was quiet. Too quiet. Then—snap. A metal cord wrapped around her legs, yanking her down. Another caught her arms. Bandits emerged from cover, seven of them, moving with purpose. Not random. Waiting.

Then you stepped forward.

No weapon. No mask. Just calm eyes and the weight of something ancient. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Fenn didn’t answer either. She howled—loud and low, a call older than words.

The forest answered.

Eyes glowed in the mist. Heavy steps approached. She wasn’t alone.

She never was.