The hallway of yhe Mogadorian base was was chaos—blaster fire streaked through the air, slicing past cracked wall and sending embers into the wind.
The Mogadorians poured in from both sides, their pale skin marked with jet-black scars, their red eyes locked onto her with murderous intent. Blasters whined as they powered up.
Freya stood at the heart of it, gripping her Staff of Terra, it is dark, metallic appearance with a twisted, spiral-like design running along its length. The surface is rough and textured, giving it a weathered, battle-worn look, as if forged from a single piece of ancient metal. Its color is predominantly blackened steel with subtle silver and gray highlights with spiraling grooves, reflecting dim light in a way that makes it appear both mystical and deadly.
As Mogadorians rushed at her, their heavy boots crunching against the debris-covered floor.
One of them lunged, a jagged blade humming with dark energy aimed straight for her chest. Freya twisted, sidestepping with effortless grace before swinging her staff with brutal force. The moment it struck the Mogadorian's side, a thunderous shockwave erupted outward. The force blasted the attacker off his feet, sending him hurtling into two others behind him. The ground trembled beneath her as the shockwave rippled outward, knocking debris loose from the broken structures around them.
Another enemy charged from behind, bringing down an axe. Freya spun, raising the staff horizontally. As the axe connected, the staff pulsed with energy, sending out another wave of force that sent the Mogadorian soaring backward like a ragdoll.
More of them rushed at her—too many. Freya narrowed her eyes. Time to change tactics.
She flipped the staff downward, pressing her thumb against a small groove near its center. Instantly, the staff shrunk, twisting inward like collapsing metal plates until it became a small, palm-sized rectangle, barely the size of a playing card. She slipped it into a compartment on her belt in one fluid motion.
Then, she reached to her side and retrieved two power discs.
Now, in each hand, she gripped a power disc—solid rings of dark metal, their inner edges glowing a steady blue. As she activated them with a flick of her fingers, the outer rims ignited into a brilliant nimbus of white light, tinged slightly with blue.
The Mogadorian base echoed with the heavy boots of approaching soldiers. The air was thick with tension, the scent of ozone lingering from discharged blasters. Freya—Number One—stood at the heart of the corridor, gripping her twin power discs, their neon blue glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
The Mogadorians emerged from both ends of the hallway, blasters raised. Their leader sneered. "Kill her."
A storm of red energy bolts filled the air. Freya barely flinched.
Each shot struck her, but instead of searing through flesh, the energy splashed against an invisible barrier, spreading in a ripple of blue light before fading. The shimmering effect lingered for a fraction of a second where the shots landed—her personal shield flaring to life before settling back into dormancy.
She smirked. Nice try.
With a flick of her wrist, she hurled her first disc. It spun through the air in a bright arc, its razor edge humming with energy. The lead Mogadorian barely had time to react before the disc sliced cleanly through his chest. His eyes widened in shock. A strangled gasp escaped his lips—then, like a dying ember, his body cracked apart into cascading black ash.
Blaster fire continued to rain down on her, but her shield absorbed every hit, sending ripples of light across her form.
She was unharmed and bored as she lunged.
The second disc whirled in her grasp, spinning like a deadly sawblade. With a precise flick, she sent it ricocheting off the corridor walls. The Mogadorians barely had time to react as the disc struck one in the throat—a sharp crack echoed before he crumpled into dust. The weapon bounced to another soldier, carving through his shoulder in a flash of white-blue energy. He barely had time to scream before his body disintegrated into nothing.
Another blast slammed into her back, but the shield held strong. A blue ripple cascaded over her form, dispersing the energy harmlessly.
Freya gritted her teeth, her patience running thin. She whirled around, eyes locking onto the shooter—a Mogadorian standing at the far end of the corridor, his blaster still smoking.
Big mistake.
She snapped her wrist, releasing the disc in a fluid motion. It cut through the air like a streak of lightning, its inner glow pulsing with raw energy. The Mogadorian barely had time to register what was coming before—
SHNK!
The disc tore through his skull with brutal precision, the blue glow illuminating his shocked, contorted face for a fraction of a second. Then, his body began to fracture, dark veins of energy splitting through his form before he crumbled into black ash.
Freya extended her hand, and the disc whipped back to her grasp, humming as it settled into her palm.
The last Mogadorian, shaking, fired wildly. Bolts struck Freya's shoulder and chest, causing quick bursts of blue ripples to flicker across her armor. She barely acknowledged them as she strode forward.
"You done?" she asked, catching her returning disc mid-spin.
The Mogadorian dropped his blaster and turned to run.
Freya sighed. She flung her disc one last time. It whirled through the air like a neon buzzsaw, cutting him down before he reached the exit. His body broke apart into particles, vanishing into the void.
Freya smirked. "Too slow."