Nogay-Horde

The ocean swelled with menace. Beneath the churning waves, shadows loomed—vast, creeping things that writhed and twisted in the deep. The sky hung low and grey, casting an eerie light over the horizon as if the world itself held its breath. Ultra Woman H stood tall in the shallow waters, her towering frame dwarfing the waves that crashed against her thighs. Her outfit was unmistakable—crisp white T-shirt emblazoned with Japanese kanji across her chest, damp and clinging to her form from the sea spray, and deep navy-blue bloomers that left her long, muscular legs bare. Her black hair was tied back with a white headband, stray strands clinging to her cheeks as the wind picked up. Chains hung loosely from her wrists—remnants of her capture, still attached with heavy cuffs, the broken links rattling as she clenched her fists. Her eyes scanned the horizon, sharp and unyielding, searching for the threats she knew were coming. The water around her shifted suddenly, rippling outwards in a

The air shimmered with the aftershock of psychic force. The Invulnerable Man—massive, immovable, a living juggernaut—collapsed to the cracked pavement, moaning, the whites of his eyes flickering beneath twitching lids. Sparks sputtered from the wreckage of the Brain Trust’s transport nearby, its sleek black sheen scorched from the inside out by the very child they had sought to control. He screamed in agony, his vision having been reduced to pitch-black nothingness. Tamara slowly walked over to the scene, her long dark hair fluttering in the dying wind. She quickly rushed over beside Terry, who was still in his Batsuit, chest rising and falling with adrenaline. She helped the new Batman up and he turned toward her, awe and concern battling across his features behind the red-eyed cowl. “You okay?” He asked, scanning her face. She didn’t answer right away. Her dark eyes, impossibly deep for someone her age, were trained not on the unconscious man or the wreckage—but on him. “You

Samus Aran had fought Ridley more times than she could count. Each battle had been brutal, leaving scars both physical and mental, but she had always survived. She had killed him, burned him, crushed him, obliterated him down to nothing but charred remains—and yet, he always came back. Again and again, an undying nightmare that refused to stay dead. This time would be no different. The air inside Samus’s gunship was tense, the hum of the controls the only sound accompanying her steady breathing. She had been tracking unusual Space Pirate movements for days, their ships converging on the remains of a derelict Federation vessel floating near a dying star. It was an obvious trap. She had taken the bait anyway. The wreckage loomed ahead, fractured hulls casting jagged shadows over the void. There was no distress signal—there hadn’t been one for hours. Whatever had happened here was over. The Space Pirates weren’t looking for survivors. They were after something else. Her

The war was over. Garreg Mach Monastery stood quiet and whole again, its worn stone walls washed by the warm glow of the setting sun. For months, it had echoed with the sounds of battle preparations, strategy meetings, and hurried footsteps. Now, laughter and celebration filled its halls—the sounds of victory and survival. Yet for Annette and Hapi, the joy felt distant. Annette wandered through one of the monastery’s quieter corridors, her usual bounce slowed to a thoughtful walk. The faint hum of music and voices drifted from the main hall, where others were still celebrating. She had laughed with them earlier, even danced, but eventually slipped away. After all the fighting and uncertainty, she thought happiness would come easier. It should have. But the sense of relief she expected hadn’t come. Instead, there was this lingering restlessness. Her fingers brushed against the familiar stone walls. The place hadn’t changed much, though the people had. She had changed too. The war