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Qingdao used to be a peaceful planet on the frontiers. Just a few years ago, the Ascendancy treated it as one would treat an oyster capable of making a great pearl down the line, but war had a way of interfering with one's plans. Not to mention one's life.

Because, against all odds - or precisely because it had wished to stack the deck so much in its own favour - the Ascendancy lost. It only took one measly battle for the tide to turn, one chance for those who had been used as tools to turn against their masters and the dreams of human supremacy evaporated. Along with any other plans. And after that, the peace treaty struck harsh, levying penalties that left the government scrambling. Retreating into its shell. Abandoning its investments along with some of its responsibilities, it turned inwards to recover from its losses, abandoning the frontier worlds to fend for themselves.

Or at least so the people of Qingdao believed.

There were many variations on the tale; probably as many as there were people on the planet. But the sentiment remained the same: the Ascendancy's high-and-mighty core-worlders, those who wielded all the power and prestige in the world, abandoned the common people. This was then, a tale all too common through history, for as several philosophers have noted, wars are fought by spilling the blood of young men on the battlefield in order to appease the bloodlust of old men sitting behind a desk. And for Shineyd, nothing could have been better about the situation. After all, not only did she get to crack the head of some assholes, she also got paid for it.

Speaking of... The thing beneath her feet writhed in pain as it attempted to move.

[color=#cb0a1e][b]"Oh. You're still alive,"[/b][/color] Shineyd spoke as though she were talking about the weather. [color=#cb0a1e][b]"Really should've told me earlier. I could've killed you and saved you the pain!"[/b][/color] She aimed her pistol. Toggled the safety. Let loose a shot which echoed through the ruined building, the sound carrying outside and alerting the rest of the idiots she came here for. They would be scrambling to their feet at any moment now, ready to turn the intruder into a sieve of bullets, but Shineyd refused to move from her position. A position which lay open on all sides, with plenty of cover for her enemies. She knew she would be riddled with bullets within seconds and die if she were any other soldier. But Shineyd spat at that notion.

A hail of bullet fire rained onto her within minutes, but most of it sparked instead of penetrating her form. For instead of yielding meat, the bullets encountered a layered, grotesque combination of flesh and metal, plates merged with cords of muscles that would not be out of place on titans. Even if a few bullets did manage to penetrate this unorthodox armour, Shineyd kept her mouth clenched so they would not hear her scream, appearing like a juggernaut in the eyes of her enemy.

Three seconds later, Shineyd moved.

She felt her magic drain as she controlled her hellish shell, manipulating the mass to launch her like a crossbow bolt. Smashing feet-first into the ribcage of her enemy, she felt the pathetic human body yield beneath her oh-so gentle touch, then she sprayed her foes with her assault rifle.

They fell like wheat before the scythe. Though they wore bulletproof vests, they could not protect all of their body and Shineyd did not care how many bullets she wasted. She aimed to injure as many as possible, causing them to drop their weapons or fall back before she parted her shell and rushed forward.

Her second victim got his throat eviscerated. Her third shot her, but she shook it off and blew a hole through her skull. Her fourth dove behind the carcass Shineyd left behind; the red-haired merely maniac touched it and commanded it to impale him with a spike. The fifth and last victim pissed himself before she shattered his shin with a kick that had extra mass behind it, then stomped on his head with a satisfying splat.

Five people killed within about twice as many heartbeats.

Shineyd took cover before she let out an explosive breath. Shifting spells in such rapid succession left her strained; she needed a few seconds to recover before she could be at her full fighting strength again and there were three more fireteams for her to handle judging by the directions of attack. She had to be at the top of her game, so she listened closely; one of the quirks of her regeneration was that her hearing also restored to normal within an eyeblink. Extremely useful in battle, but also extremely annoying as it meant she had to get used to gunfire again.

A few seconds later, she could hear the characteristic, thundering steps that came with people sprinting in heavy equipment. Shineyd really had to give them credit: they reacted quicker than she got used to. Or maybe her fame already spread far enough that people could handle this much. Time to show them a new trick, then~

Concentrating her armour around her most vital areas, Shineyd broke into a sprint towards her opponents. Naturally, they opened fire, but she sank her teeth into her lips and drew blood; forcing herself to remain silent as she endured their torturous assault. A rain of white-hot, serrated agony which threatened to tear her apart. A symphony of bullets which blasted through muscle and bone alike, digging deep into her being, but never able to completely punch through, for the ever-rejuvenating flesh would not let it.

The pain rocked Shineyd's world, but she remained conscious as she pushed forward, diving deep into the formation. Most of the gunfire stopped to prevent friendly fire as she deliberately moved behind one of the soldiers, who tried to pump her full of bullets. If only his magazine did not click empty, he might have been able to scratch her a little.

Reaching for his knife, the soldier attempted to intercept her, but Shineyd sped past. She needed a second to clear her head, to be able to focus, so she zig-zagged between the people around her, forcing them to risk killing or injuring each other if they wanted to hit her. Her lungs burned with exhaustion; she could only keep this up for a couple of seconds, but that was all she needed to bring forth her ace in the hole.

The soldiers around her turned into red mist. The ground ceased to exist beneath her feet and she fell about a metre. The moment of her hanging in air turned into a stretched-out eternity as she felt her magic scream bloody murder, along with the [i]knowledge[/i] in the back of her mind that she could have killed herself with that spell. It always made her break out in cold sweat, but she relished it and she landed smooth on her legs before she sprinted towards the edge of the crater she had carved for herself.

She had gotten used to Maws of Charybdis a long time ago. It was still not a pleasant experience by any means, nor could she use it again for a while unless she wanted to risk ripping her skin and insides open. But if she were just a little lucky, she would have eliminated all of her pursuers. Unfortunately, twelve remained. Fortunately, they froze in shock as they saw their comrades evaporate, giving her ample time to kill three of them before they opened fire at her.

Shineyd took the pain head on and let hideous laughter escape her lips. There was still so much fun to be had...