(Amaia)
The power of my wrath is embroiled in the storm I have created. It blisters towards the stunned enemy who watches my transformed look and embraces themselves for the impact.
The plasma shield is obliterated like paper in an uncontrolled fire. The chaos hits them and I see their bodies evaporate like specs of dust. Just like those scum Reavers, the three companions of Meissa scatter in the cold winds—black ashes scatter like dust and burnt remains of an ember against the pristine white of this land.
Only Meissa remains standing, stunned, and that smile she always carries has cracked. Her mouth forms a small 'O' of horror, eyes blown wide, so is her hair as she stares from me to the ashes of her companions.
A special shield with numerous burning numbers and symbols has protected Meissa, I don't know where it came from.
