[Scene: A dark alley, moonlight casting sharp shadows. A group of hunters stands ready, silver weapons glinting.]
Lyra steps forward, cracking her knuckles. "Silver? Cute. Let’s see if you can even touch me."
A hunter lunges—too slow. In a blink, he’s on the ground, gasping for air. Lyra sighs, tapping her boot against his chest.
"Pathetic. Who’s next?"
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