Alexa hovered for a moment above the devastated field, her sacred-demonic wings spread like two gigantic blades cutting through the red sky of Sankaria. The wind that had once flowed freely now curved around her, pulled by a presence too new, too intense, too hungry for that world to bear. The newborn power vibrated in every muscle, in every nerve, in every thought. It wasn't just strength. It was excess. It was as if all the years of pain, persecution, humiliation, and fury had suddenly received infinite means to express themselves.
She took a single deep breath.
When she exhaled, she smiled.
That smile had no ordinary joy. It had dangerous liberation. It had ancient vengeance finally finding a body capable of sustaining it. Alexa raised one hand, watching the claws of black and gold energy lengthen a few centimeters with her simple will. She only had to think, and the world obeyed. She only had to wish, and destruction offered itself as a tool.
