Smoke still billowed from the wreckage of the mechanical monstrosity, a testament to the power of his golden brush, partially obscuring the lurid, crimson-tinged purple sky. Leonardo da Vinci stood, catching his breath, feeling the drain of energy yet still invigorated by his youthful physique. He was about to stoop and examine his "drawn" creation more closely when his finely honed instincts—sharpened over a lifetime as an inventor and keen observer—screamed a warning of new danger approaching from the side. It wasn't the heavy clang of machinery, but the faint, stealthy footsteps of a human.
Suddenly, before Da Vinci could even raise the golden brush in his hand, a figure shot out from his right with the speed of a tempest. Long, fiery red hair, like blazing flames, whipped behind her. The figure was slighter than he'd expected, yet possessed an astonishing power and agility.
Clang! Clang! Shhlick!
The sharp, furious shriek of metal on metal erupted, accompanied by sparks. The newcomer, a young woman clad in well-fitted, dark, tanned leather armor, moved with a fluid yet decisive grace. Twin short swords flashed in her hands, parrying and countering the attacks of a group of mysterious figures in drab, hooded cloaks that completely obscured their faces. There were three of them, wielding curved daggers and slender blades, their strikes fast and aimed to kill.
Da Vinci stood still, observing the fierce battle before him with an analytical gaze. He noted the woman's swordsmanship; it wasn't just ferocious, but imbued with precision and efficiency. Every movement was calculated, like a deadly dancer. Her eyes, glimpsed through strands of fiery red hair, were as cold as polar ice, holding a sharp, lethal glint.
The clash was over in moments. The red-haired woman moved with a clear speed advantage. One of her swords deflected a dagger aimed at her throat, while the other sliced across an assassin's arm, drawing a pained howl. Her foot then shot out, striking another assailant behind the knee, causing him to stumble before her blade plunged downward without hesitation.
Seeing two of their comrades fall, the last remaining assassin realized his disadvantage. He glanced at Da Vinci, who stood as still as a statue, a flicker of calculation in his eyes, before deciding to make a swift retreat. He dodged the woman's follow-up strike and spat out, his voice raspy but filled with venom, "Tch! So close to killing the 'Chosen One'!" With that, he vanished into the shadows of the ruins, leaving behind only those enigmatic words echoing in Da Vinci's mind.
The red-haired woman stood still for a moment, breathing heavily but still alert, scanning her surroundings. Once certain the enemy was truly gone, she slowly lowered her twin swords. Her delicate face, framed by the fiery hair, remained impassive, those same cold eyes now fixed on Da Vinci, assessing him. She glanced at the colossal, inert mechanical beast nearby, then back at him. His strange attire and his bewildered yet calm demeanor made her frown slightly.
"Who are you?" Her voice was a little rough, yet sharp. "And that pile of scrap... did you take it down yourself?"
Da Vinci was about to speak, but the woman moved quickly. "No time for questions now! This place isn't safe. They might come back, or others could follow. Follow me, quickly!" She didn't wait for a reply but turned and broke into a run, her movements still swift and silent.
Though filled with questions and confusion about his situation and this new world, Da Vinci's intuition told him that this slender woman, who possessed a strength belying her frame, was his only lifeline at this moment. He decided to follow her without delay.
The two of them ran, navigating a path littered with the wreckage of metal structures and large chunks of stone. The surrounding landscape was barren and dangerous, with plumes of smoke rising in several spots. Da Vinci tried to match his breathing to the woman's pace, while his genius mind recorded every detail he saw.
"Wait!" Da Vinci called out as they dashed through a narrow passage between crumbling walls. "Can you at least tell me what's happening here? Where exactly are we? And... what did those men mean by the 'Chosen One'?"
The woman, whose name he would later learn was "Kiana," glanced back at him, a mixture of surprise and suspicion in her eyes at his seemingly clueless questions. "Where in the blazes did you come from, asking questions like a lost child?" she retorted, quickening her pace. "This is Ashfall, what's left of the land after the endless 'Machine War' turned it to cinders... As for the 'Chosen One'..." Kiana paused for a moment, as if weighing her words. "It's just some ridiculous legend those machine-worshipping fanatics believe in... But judging by how those assassins were after you... maybe it's not just a legend anymore today." Her cold eyes fixed on Da Vinci meaningfully, making him feel the weight of some unknown significance he might be carrying.
Kiana continued explaining as she led the way, "Our world is collapsing at the hands of the 'Nebula Machine Empire.' They are vile beasts who want to devour everything with their terrifying mechanical technology. That giant spider-thing you just dealt with was just one of their grunts. We, the 'Free Federation,' are the few who remain, fighting them with all our might."
Finally, after a perilous run, Kiana slowed her pace before what appeared to be a small village or refugee camp. It was crudely constructed, using sharp metal scraps and large stones as defensive walls, with small watchtowers scattered about. As soon as the two of them stepped into the defended perimeter, dozens of people—burly men in battered armor, elderly women, and young children—whipped their heads around to face the newcomers. Their eyes were filled with suspicion and exhaustion. Swords, spears, and all manner of makeshift weapons were instantly pointed at Da Vinci, accompanied by threatening shouts.
"Hold it right there, stranger!" a hoarse voice of an elderly man boomed.
"Everyone, stand down!" Kiana stepped in front of Da Vinci, raising her hand as a signal. "He's with me."
Though Kiana's words made many lower their weapons, the gazes fixed on Da Vinci remained distrustful.
"I've brought someone," Kiana turned to the elderly man, who seemed to be the leader here. "He might be... more special than we think," she added, her tone hinting at something significant, before nodding for Da Vinci to follow her deeper into the settlement. He was left to face the curious stares and the palpable tension of the survivors of this wondrous, yet perilous, new world, with the mystery of the "Chosen One" weighing heavier with each passing moment.