The crimson sun, a malevolent eye in the alien sky, dipped below the horizon, painting the desert sands in hues of blood orange and bruised purple. Rumi, huddled beneath the meager shade of a thorny acacia tree, shivered. Xylos, unlike the lush Atheria, was a world of extremes. Days were scorching furnaces, nights bone-chilling deserts.

  The mechanical voice, her ever-present companion, broke the silence.

  This new skill that seemed to not be activated on its own like (portal) Rumi though about how to activate it she remembered in animes she watched as a kid that the system activates by saying what you want to be shown or done. Rumi trying this said as a test "status".

  Curious about this Transformation Rumi said "High Stormzen"

  The moment the word escaped her lips, a jolt, like static electricity, surged through her. Her vision blurred, the world around her shimmering and distorting. A searing pain erupted behind her eyes, as if they were being pierced by a thousand needles. She gasped, clutching her head, the world momentarily a blinding white.

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  Then, as abruptly as it began, the pain subsided. Her vision cleared, but the world looked different. Colors seemed more vibrant, sharper her vision seemingly changing at will then she was able to see her own face but it looked different. And her eyes… they were different. Gone was the familiar brown. In their place, a pale, almost ethereal blue shimmered, radiating an inner light.

  A tingling sensation spread through her limbs, a newfound power surging within her. The mechanical voice, usually a calm and detached observer, crackled with excitement.

  Rumi, mesmerized by the change in her eyes and power, felt a surge of raw energy, a connection to something primal, something… partly divine. She had a feeling this was just a glimpse into the power that resided within her.

  She had spent the last few days navigating the treacherous dunes, the scorching sun beating down on her, dehydration gnawing at her throat. The lizardmen, their reptilian eyes gleaming in the twilight, had become a constant threat. They hunted in packs, their movements silent and deadly.

  Rumi, her skin cracked and blistered, her throat parched, stumbled upon a crumbling ruin. It was a temple, she realized, its walls adorned with strange, hieroglyphic symbols. A sense of foreboding washed over her. This was no ordinary ruin. It pulsed with an eerie energy, that seemed to seep from the very stones.

  Hesitantly, she stepped inside. The air inside was thick with dust and the scent of decay. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light filtering through the shattered windows. As she ventured deeper, the air grew colder, the silence more profound.

  Suddenly, a low growl echoed through the chambers. Rumi's heart leaped into her throat. She whirled around, her hand instinctively reaching for the crude dagger she had fashioned from a bone.

  Two figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing with an eerie green light. They were unlike any lizardmen she had encountered before. Taller, more muscular, their scales shimmering with an iridescent sheen. They wore ornate armor, crafted from the bones of long-dead creatures.

  One of them, larger than the other, stepped forward, its voice a low, guttural hiss. "Intruders… are not welcome."

  Rumi, her voice trembling, replied, "I… I mean no harm. I'm just passing through."

  The creature let out a chilling laugh, a sound like dry leaves skittering across stone. "Passing through? Here? I do not like liars"

  The larger creature raised a clawed hand, a signal to its companion. Rumi knew she was outmatched. These were no ordinary lizardmen. These were warriors, hardened by years of combat, their eyes burning with a savage hunger.

  She prepared to fight, her mind racing.

  The larger creature lunged, its claws raking across the air. Rumi, agile despite her exhaustion, dodged the attack, her mind a whirlwind of desperate calculations. She had to find a way to escape, to survive another night on this unforgiving planet.

  The battle raged, a desperate dance of death in the shadows of the ancient temple. Rumi, fueled by adrenaline and a fierce will to survive, fought back with a ferocity that surprised even herself. She used the crumbling ruins to her advantage, her movements swift and unpredictable.

  Finally, an opportunity presented itself. As the larger creature lunged again, Rumi sidestepped, her dagger flashing. She aimed for its exposed throat, sinking the blade deep. The creature let out a guttural roar, its eyes widening in disbelief. It stumbled back, its grip weakening.

  Seizing the moment, Rumi turned and fled, disappearing into the swirling dust, the echoes of the battle fading behind her.

  She had survived. But the encounter had left her shaken. Xylos, she realized, was a world of constant struggle, a place where weakness was punished swiftly and mercilessly.

  As she fled into the desert night, the mechanical voice chimed in,

  Rumi, her body aching, her heart pounding, knew this was just the beginning. The journey had only just begun, and Xylos, with its unforgiving beauty and deadly inhabitants, was far from finished with her.