Serena, the Terror of the Battlefield
Across the ruined field, the surviving enemy soldiers no longer saw a woman standing before them.
They saw the Sword of Anthures.
Covered in the blood of those who threatened her people, Serena remained perfectly calm amid the destruction. Her black armor bore the scars of battle, its deep purple details almost lost beneath ash and crimson. In her hand, the blade that had ended countless charges still burned with a restrained red glow.
There was no fury in her eyes.
Only discipline.
Every movement had been precise. Every strike had served a purpose. The enemies beneath her feet had not fallen to blind rage, but to the merciless efficiency of the greatest military commander of the New Era.
Serena never desired war. She had spent much of her life preventing it.
But when peace failed, and innocent lives stood behind her, she became the lesson every invading army would remember:
A sword exists to prevent war—but those who force it to be drawn must face its edge.
On that battlefield, the soldiers finally understood why entire kingdoms feared the name of Serena, the Guardian of Anthures.